It was getting to her. He was getting to her.
Johen came in a roar, his cock jerking inside her. Sofia watched his eyes all the while, witnessing as life deserted them once again.
It was as if he understood that she would go back to plotting against him once the passion faded...and needed to fortify himself against any injury that knowledge might cause.
Chapter Eleven
B y the early hours of the sixth day of her marriage, the erotisk had completely run its course. Gone was the gnawing pain, the ache, the unquenchable lust. In its place was a soreness that made her feel like a young virgin again instead of like the mature woman that she was.
Sofia had never had so much sex in her life. Johen had made love to her nearly nonstop this past week, pausing only long enough to sleep and eat. He looked as exhausted as she felt, yet he still managed to rise to the occasion every time she moaned and called out for him.
He had taken her more times than she'd thought possible, in more places than she'd ever dreamt of letting a man invade her.
And she had begged for it. Like an animal in heat, she had needed Johen's hard cock as though her life itself depended on it.
The weirdest thing of all, though, was the trust she had begun feeling for her husband. He was big and powerful, deadly and gruff, yet tender and gentle at the same time. At least with her. If she was to never learn another new fact about him, she fully comprehended one thing:
He would never hurt her.
Too bad she couldn't say the same about herself, where he was concerned.
Sofia sighed softly as she gazed at Johen's sleeping face. She disliked the thought of causing this man any pain, but she owed it to herself to try and escape. Six days of great sex hardly made up for a lifetime in captivity.
Down here, she would never have choices. Johen would decide her every move. Any woman in her right mind would try to flee.
It's not like he can't replace you. Today he calls you his wife, but he'll forget you the moment you leave....
If only she truly believed that.
For five days and nights, Lord Stefsson neglected his duties to New Sweden that he might remain by his wife's side. When he awakened on day six and found Sofia sleeping soundly beside him, Johen realized that the effects of the erotisk had passed.
The selfish part of him wished it otherwise, for he knew that so long as lust consumed her she would lie with him willingly, even initiate their lovemaking. Now that Sofia could shake the carnal cobwebs from her mind, the uphill battle would begin.
He had heard enough stories over the years about captive brides to know what a difficult time 'twould be in their dwelling until Sofia accepted New Sweden as her home and him as her husband. That was why he'd vowed to himself not to purchase an Outsider bride.
But as Johen watched Sofia sleep, golden ringlets framing her beautiful face, he knew it didn't matter. However long it took, whatever manner of willfulness she displayed, 'twould be worth it.
Something about Sofia had called to him from the moment he saw her. There was a look in her eyes he understood only too well: a void, an ache that resulted from feeling lifeless inside.
It took the dead to recognize the dead.
Johen had no knowledge of what Sofia had gone through prior to her capture by the bride-hunters, but whatever 'twas, it had caused a great sorrow within her. He faced eyes like those every time he glanced in a looking glass.
He had seen so much during his rise to power, mercilessly fighting Toki for Hannu's autonomy. Dead bodies strewn like fallen paper along the icy rivers. Children blown apart--innocent little victims who had done naught wrong to anyone. Mothers weeping. Mangled corpses everywhere so far as the eye could see...
Witnessing these sights in theory was altogether different than seeing them in reality. A part of Johen had died in the uprising, a piece of his soul he'd thought never to recover. Being with Sofia made him feel hopeful again, as though it hadn't been in vain after all.
"Let us take away each other's pain," he murmured, one hand gently sifting through her hair. As Johen watched his wife sleep, he knew he had made the right decision in choosing her for his bride. They bore more in common than either of them knew. "I cherish you more with each passing moment."
'Twas true. The way she smiled despite herself whenever she found him to be good company, every time he slid his cock inside of her and those blank, sad eyes sparkled their brilliant blue-green for those stolen minutes...
He loved her. With his whole heart he already loved her, though he couldn't tell her until she was ready to hear it.
Sofia had not been raised in his culture and therefore didn't understand his people's ways. His mother had told him about the conversation she'd engaged in with his wife three eves hence, and of Sofia's bewilderment that a man could love so fiercely, devoutly and quickly.
His mother had not lied to her. He cherished Sofia as though he'd known her all his life.
Johen blinked, recalling that he had duties he could no longer neglect. There were disputes to be settled, grievances to be heard and a sector to rule. With a sigh, he stood up and headed to his chest to fetch clean clothing.
'Twould be a long road with Lady Stefsson, but one his lordship felt certain was worth it.
As the doors to the vast bedroom quietly closed, Sofia's eyes slowly opened.
Long before Johen had touched her hair or uttered a word, she had known that his attention was fixed on her. Not sure of what to do or say, she had feigned sleep. His softly spoken words echoed in her heart:
Let us take away each other's pain...I cherish you more with each passing moment.
Did he know about her brother's death? About losing her parents so many years ago? Had she said something to him she couldn't recall? What pain was he carrying? Should she even care?
They hadn't engaged in much conversation, for most of their waking hours had been spent in bed. Yet somehow there didn't need to be any words between them. Somehow, some way, what they had together was, in its place and time, right.
Sofia sighed. She had to leave. Johen was affecting not only her mind, but her heart as well.
Chapter Twelve
S ofia ran as fast as she could, running blindly into the unknown Viking world outside Johen's home. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't even know if she was trying to escape or if she was merely blowing off built-up steam. Tears welled in her eyes from the confusion she felt.
Staying below the ground with Johen was so alien as to be frightening. Returning to the icy world above was equally distressing. She was alone up there.
Down here she had Johen, Eemil and Amani--three people who very much wanted her in their family. Even knowing her anger and frustration, they had enveloped her into their fold, treating her as one of their own.
To them, she belonged.
She came to a sudden stop, panting for air. It was all she'd ever wanted--a real family. But at what price?
Grief overwhelmed her until she just had to cry. She hadn't lost control of her emotions since her parents had died, but now she couldn't seem to stop herself.
"Sofia."
The voice, so gentle, so concerned and familiar, soothed in a way that frightened her. Succumbing without a fight wasn't in her vocabulary, but she was so tempted....
"Sofia," Johen murmured, coming to stand beside her. Thankfully he didn't touch her; she was overwrought enough as it was. "Are you all right?"
"No," she sobbed, trying to stop crying. She swiped at her tears, but they continued to fall. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. I don't even know who I am anymore--and that is the scariest thing of all.
Johen didn't interrupt her, which she was oddly grateful for.
"Up there in my world, I had nothing. I lost everyone that ever mattered to me. My parents, my brother--all of them are dead."
"I am sorry," he said quietly. "Were they alive, I would go steal them for you."
Sofia stilled. She smile
d through teary eyes. "Would you really?"
"Of course," Johen said as though he couldn't understand why she thought otherwise. "I want to make you happy, Sofia--the happiest you've ever been."
She looked away. "That wouldn't take much," she whispered.
Johen led her a few paces to a bench, and he gently pulled Sofia down beside him.
"I will not pretend to understand what you must be feeling. I have seen it on the faces of countless captive brides, but have never lived it for myself."
He sighed. "What you must understand is that my people will never let you go. They couldn't even if they wanted to. Once the bride-hunters captured you, your fate was sealed. I know you are angry at me--"
"No," Sofia said honestly, "I'm not. I realize that if you hadn't bought me, someone else would have. Still, I can't seem to get beyond the fact that it happened."
He nodded his head. "You are angry with me."
"Not at you specifically--I'm mad at this entire civilization." She splayed her hands. "Your ways are not normal to me, Johen. If you stole a woman above the ground, you'd go to prison."
He whistled through his teeth. "Prison? A cell of incarceration? For doing what the gods decreed?"
"No one believes in your gods up there," she said gently. "They haven't for thousands of years."
"More's the pity."
Johen threaded his fingers through Sofia's. "I know this is difficult for you," he murmured. "I vow to give you as much space and time as you need in order to find your happiness."
"What if I never find it?" she asked sadly.
He squeezed her hand. "You will. I would allow it to be no other way."
Sofia couldn't help but grin at his arrogance, and he winked down at her.
They sat in silence for a long time, neither of them saying a word. They held each other's hand, their souls finding a peace neither of them had experienced in years. After what felt like a lifetime to Johen, Sofia at last rested her head on his shoulder, allowing him to embrace her.
Old Myria, the herbalist, watched in the shadows, a smile parting the wrinkly folds of her face. She had known these two were right for each other the moment she met Sofia. Some called her gift a blessing, others a curse. Whatever it was, she had known.
Fate was ironic with its twists and turns, but in the end it always worked out right. That was difficult for the newly wedded couple to fathom now, but in another month, Sofia would love Johen with as much passion as he loved her. Another month later and she would be pregnant with his child.
Fate was indeed ironic, yet equally wise. There was no other person alive who could have recognized and understood the shadows that the other carried.
Clutching her hooded cowl tightly about her, old Myria crept away. Something portentous was about to grip New Sweden in the form of a wench. She could only pray to the gods in Valhalla that her people were ready for it.
Epilogue
Three months later
Y ou are definitely with child," Johen proclaimed. He shouldn't feel so pleased with his fertile self whilst watching his poor wee wife try to ward off the morning sickness that had consumed her over the past couple of weeks, but he couldn't seem to help it. She was pregnant. No wench could ever hope to be sexier.
"Either that," he teased, "or you've succumbed to a new illness no Viking has ever heard tell of."
Sofia moaned as she clutched her rebellious stomach. "What kind of illness would that be?"
"Mayhap we would name it wife-of-the-green-face."
"You are not funny."
"And here I thought myself a court jester in the making."
"You could use a few more lessons."
Johen rubbed Sofia's back, doing his best to comfort her. It was long moments before she felt relieved enough to sit up, and then took a seat in her favored place--his lap.
Smiling softly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I am very happy, you know."
He kissed her forehead. "Aye, I know," Johen murmured. "I can see it in your eyes." He gave his wife a gentle squeeze, not wishing to tempt nature and make her sick. Especially not whilst she was sitting upon his lap. "I have never felt more blessed, Sofia. Thank you for all the goodness you have brought to my life."
"That's so sweet--you're going to make me cry."
"You do that often, too, these days. Mayhap we should change the name of the ague to wife-of-the-green-face-and-red-eyes."
Sofia gave him a good-natured thump on the chest. "You really do need more lessons."
A court jester he was not, but fool-crazy in love, he was. The past three months had been the most wondrous of his life. He and Sofia had become so close that Johen was hard-pressed to recall a life before her. 'Twas almost as though he hadn't lived before that fateful eve at the bride auction.
Truth be told, he hadn't. He had existed, but he had not truly lived.
"Thank you for having my child," Johen murmured, his gaze memorizing her face. "I love you, Sofia."
"You're welcome," she whispered back. She reached up and ran a hand over the contour of his jaw. "I love you, too." Her smile held the promise of a long, happy life together. "More than you'll ever know."
Later that afternoon, once the morning sickness had securely passed, Sofia and Johen took a mine car to a docking station on the far side of Hannu, where Johen's parents lived. Her in-laws took the news of Sofia's pregnancy just as she'd known they would: with hugs, kisses and tears of joy.
"I cannot begin to tell you how happy we are!" Amani laughed. "Eemil and I are to be grandparents!"
Eemil was equally thrilled, running a few homes down to pound on his brother's door and share the news of her pregnancy. Pretty soon Johen's entire extended family was there, with food and drinks brought in for an impromptu celebration.
Sofia grinned up at her husband as his father and uncle began singing and dancing, a bawdy Viking performance reserved for only the most special occasions. Johen threw his head back and laughed, then gave Sofia a contented squeeze.
She was happy. God help her, but she'd never been happier.
Life in the Underground had turned out to be more wonderful than Sofia had thought possible. It didn't hurt that she was married to the world's greatest man, but Johen aside, the kingdom still had a lot to recommend it.
Johen had given Sofia the most amazing present--the gift of being loved no matter what. They had only been married for three months, yet her heart felt as though they'd been together for three lifetimes. Everything between them had clicked that fast and that well.
She still thought about the world above the ground from time to time, and now was one of those times. Her mom and dad would have been as overjoyed as Johen's parents at the news of her pregnancy. And Sam would have been the world's greatest uncle.
Sofia smiled. She hoped that her family was looking down from the heavens and seeing this moment through their angels' eyes.
She blinked, then turned her attention back to the Viking performance. Laughing with her husband, she laid her head on Johen's shoulder, grateful to be a part of this wonderful family.
The Warlord
Wants
Forever
Kresley Cole
The Origin
of the Valkyrie
I nto the blood-splattered snow, the lone warrior fell to one knee and shuddered with weakness. Still, an arm shot out to raise a sword against the oncoming legion.
Her dented breastplate swallowed her small form.
The winds howled, whipping her hair, but she heard the twang of the bowstring unleashed. She screamed in fury; the arrow punctured the center of her armor, the blow sending her flying back.
The arrow had pierced through metal, then barely through her breastbone, just enough that her heart met the point with each beat. The beating of her own brave heart was killing her.
But her scream had woken two nearby gods sleeping together through a brutal, wintry decade. They stirred and looked down upon the maiden, seeing in her eyes courage bur
ning bright. Bravery and will had marked her entire life, but the light ebbed with death and they mourned it.
Freya, the female god, whispered that they should take her courage and preserve it for eternity because it was so precious.
Woden agreed, and together they gave up lightning to cleave through the ether and strike the dying maiden.
The light was violent and slow to fade and made the army tremble.
When blackness cloyed once more, the healed maiden woke in a strange place. She was untouched, her human mortality unchanged. But soon an immortal daughter would be born from her--a daughter who possessed her courage, Woden's wily brilliance, and Freya's mirth and fey beauty. Though this daughter enjoyed the power of lightning for sustenance, she also inherited Woden's arrogance and Freya's acquisitiveness, which merely endeared her to them more.
The gods were content and the maiden adoring of her new baby. Yet after an age had flickered past, the gods heard another female call out for courage as she died from a battle against a dark enemy. She wasn't a human, but a Furie, one among the Lore--that strata of clever beings who have convinced humans that they exist only in imagination. Scarce moments had the creature--in the freezing night her breaths were no longer visible.
"Our halls are great, yet our family is small," Freya said, her eyes sparkling so brightly a mariner in the north was briefly blinded by the stars and almost lost his way.
Grim Woden took her hand, unable to deny her. Those surrounding the dying Furie saw lightning rent the sky once more.
And it would strike again and again in the coming years, continuing on well after female warriors--be they human, demoness, siren, changeling or any brave creature from the Lore--knew to pray for it as they died.
Thus the Valkyrie were born.
Chapter One
Five years ago
Mt. Oblak Castle, Russia
I f the overgrown vampire didn't stop staring at her face, even his wicked talent with his sword wouldn't keep his head upon his shoulders.
The thought made Myst, an immortal known as the Coveted One, grin as she curled up in the windowsill of her cell. Leaning against the reinforced bars, she watched the two vampire armies battle below as she might a rumble from the back of bleachers.
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