2HotCurvesAhead
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Why the beautiful animal had appeared two weeks ago at Eileen’s doorstep and had chosen to stay was still a mystery, although the way Eileen had seen him act made her suspect there had to be more to the creature than what met the eye. Was he Loki in the flesh? The shape-shifter god who was said to appear in the form of a wolf from time to time? Whatever he was now wasn’t the moment to show his almost humanlike qualities—not in front of Ingrid.
“I want Leif eating from my hand and…”
Eileen rolled her eyes. Was the woman daft? She made magic, not miracles! The man Ingrid desired was not only the neighboring land’s new jarl but also one of King Harold’s fiercest and more renowned warriors. Skalds recited his great deeds, men admired his berserker nature and women whispered about his sexual prowess. A shiver ran down Eileen’s back. She had seen Leif only a few times and had avoided him ever since.
The first time, Leif had appeared out of the thin ether just as her former owner and his sons were about to rape her in the woods on their way back from the weekly market. Eileen touched the large scar crisscrossing her throat. She could still feel the cold steel biting into her skin as they’d told her to be quiet while they’d torn her clothes from her body and rough hands had fondled her everywhere. She had been only a child then, a defenseless girl about to lose her innocence in the most terrible way, when a loud, menacing growl had resounded through the woods, making her owner and his sons stop to look around, startled.
Eileen had barely had time to recognize a man standing in the shadows of the trees. Everything at that moment had been confusing and too fast. Bert, her owner’s youngest son, had laughed and looked relieved. Horrified, she had witnessed how Bert had approached the stranger with wide-open arms and had invited him to join the fun. But Bert’s laughter had died as his head had been severed from his body. The whole forest seemed to freeze as Bert’s head rolled over the muddy ground. Its small green eyes were still wide-open—staring at her—when the head came to a halt only a few feet from her.
Between tears and whimpers, Eileen had seen how the blond warrior went berserker and slaughtered all her owner’s sons before he went with cold, glazed eyes after their father. When Leif, covered in blood and grime, had finally turned to stare at Eileen she hadn’t been able to stifle her screams. Terrified, she’d scrambled backward, trying to escape him.
Eileen had thought she’d be the next one to lose her head. Instead, Leif had stopped dead in his tracks. Without further words, he’d thrown his tunic and belt knife toward her. Then he had turned around and disappeared into the woods, leaving Eileen alone, almost nude, surrounded by blood and beheaded bodies.
Eileen had been barely thirteen then, and Leif couldn’t have been more than four or five years older than she was. Now, in hindsight, she considered it an even greater deed for Leif to have so easily taken down those men. How had an inexperienced youngster been able to slaughter four men? Eileen shook her head and kept stirring the potion.
The incident had changed Eileen’s life. She’d never told people what really happened in the woods, but with the villagers knowing about her incipient powers, rumors that Eileen had been the one to kill all those men with her black arts had run rampant. From that instant, everybody stayed out of her way, and the new jarl ended up finding a plausible excuse to send her to this hut—as far away as possible from him and his family, but still within his reach to make good use of Eileen’s abilities.
Not that she could complain about Jarl Elof’s decision. The hut was old, and had been neglected but soon she’d been able to turn it into a warm shelter. She loved her new home and the freedom to do what she wanted. Well, yes, of course that she felt very lonely sometimes. Who wouldn’t? She was human after all. But she preferred her peace and solitude over the continuous abuse a female thrall was exposed to in a household full of men.
She had discovered Leif’s identity the day his clan came to extend their respects and bring gifts for her owner’s burial. There had been a strange connection between Leif and her when their eyes met. She’d known he’d recognized her when his pupils had dilated and he’d made a move in her direction. Almost immediately, Leif’s family had surrounded him, his father’s hand on his arm and his brothers directing worried glances at her. He’d seemed to hesitate when his father murmured something to him. When Leif finally turned his back on Eileen, her humiliation was so strong that she’d ended up running into the woods to hide until the burial finished and Leif was again far away from her and her life. Why the son of a jarl would want to save a worthless thrall like Eileen escaped her logic. Ten years later, Leif’s actions the day he went berserker still didn’t make sense to her.
Each time Eileen recalled the third time she came across Leif, a hot flush traveled through her body. Had it been only a month ago? It seemed as if an eternity had passed already. After hearing Leif was back from King Harold’s court, she had gone to return his knife. Eileen had felt an irresistible urge to find him and thank him for saving her from rape all those years ago.
Finding him hadn’t been difficult. As Eileen had reached the lake located within his lands, the sound of human moans and gasps had echoed from near its rocky shore. Curious, Eileen had followed the sounds, always careful to stay hidden between bushes and rocks. As she neared the water’s edge, Eileen had caught sight of Leif, all his bare, fierce power on display as he fucked a woman who lay bent over the trunk of a fallen tree.
Frozen in shock, Eileen had witnessed how Leif’s lean hips bounced against the woman’s round, proudly exposed butt, while his strong fingers kept the pink ass cheeks separated, allowing him to watch how his impressive cock rammed into the woman’s tight opening. Eileen had been fascinated by the way his hard muscles had moved rhythmically as he’d pumped into the soft, feminine body. She’d watched, amazed by the contrast between Leif’s golden skin and the woman’s pearl-white figure. His lover had moaned and cried out in absolute abandon while her plump breasts swung enticingly back and forth.
Eileen had easily imagined herself in the woman’s place. With curves as full as those of the other woman, Eileen could picture how her own breasts would feel if they swayed to the rhythm Leif imposed as he pumped into her, or the way Leif’s strong fingers would sink into her flesh as he held on to her.
Eileen had felt a thick, warm liquid trickling slowly down her inner thighs—as it did now, simply at the memory of what she’d witnessed. Leif’s nostrils had flared and his muscles had tensed. Raising his head, he’d stared straight into Eileen’s eyes. She couldn’t understand how he had been able to locate her with such ease, considering she’d been hiding between the bushes.
Leif’s ice-blue eyes had kept Eileen hypnotized as he’d withdrawn his glossy shaft from the moaning woman and had begun to stroke it with calm, strong motions, ignoring the woman’s raw pleas to keep fucking her. Eileen had felt her nipples tightening, brushing against the rough cloth of her underdress, while a sizzling feeling began to grow in her womb. The warrior’s black pupils had grown until only a thin blue ring was left of his irises, and a slightly crooked grin had spread on his face. When Leif had looked down at his large hand, firmly enclosed around his huge rod, Eileen’s gaze had followed his glance by its own volition. She had noticed the transparent tears glistening on the dark-red tip of Leif’s cock while his hand moved faster and faster. An empty space grew inside Eileen, pleading for her—for him—to fill it as a hot liquid gush moistened her secret parts. Eileen had pressed her thighs together at the same time as their eyes met again. Leif’s face had contorted as if he were in pain while snow-white spurts were ejected over the woman’s wiggling ass.
Eileen hadn’t waited for Leif to recover. Instead, after using all her strength to stick Leif’s knife in the nearest tree trunk, she had fled as fast as her trembling legs would allow her. Throughout her entire journey home, the feeling that someone was shadowing her, watching her, even when Eileen couldn’t see or hear anyone, had been present. Images of Leif fucking the other woman
replayed once and once again in her mind as she ran. As soon as Eileen had reached the privacy of her home, she had fallen onto her knees. Still out of breath, she had lifted her skirts and had sunk her fingers into her needy, hot folds until Leif’s name echoed in her small hut and she had dropped exhausted onto the ground.
Ingrid’s obnoxious, shrill voice brought Eileen back to the present.
“You are slow, witch! Can’t you work a bit faster? I have better things to do than sit here the whole day to keep you company!”
Eileen pressed her lips together, although the wolf seemed to have reached the end of his nonexistent tether and showed his long, sharp teeth without qualms.
“Tell your pet to stop growling at me!” Although her statement had probably been meant to sound like an order, Ingrid’s fear was obvious.
“He’s a wild wolf, not my pet,” Eileen stated calmly, trying to hide her amusement when an obviously horrified Ingrid turned with eyes widened.
“You’re keeping a wild wolf with you? Are you crazy?”
The woman’s high-pitched cry made the animal’s growls sound even angrier.
Ignoring Ingrid, Eileen filled a tiny jar with steaming, brown liquid. “Here! Don’t give Leif more than a spoonful a day.”
Ingrid snatched the jar from Eileen’s hands without taking her eyes off the growling beast at her feet. “Once the jarl has taken the potion, you’ll have to be at his side. The more time passes, the more powerful the effects are, and the jarl will need to…be near you. His urge to…” Eileen bit her lower lip, not knowing how to explain the potion’s effects without sounding coarse. “He’ll have feelings that will be overbearing for him, maybe even painful—”
Before Eileen could finish her explanation, the door closed with a loud thud. Not even a “thank you so much”? Eileen pursed her lips, restraining her chuckle. She let herself fall on the nearest stool, happy to be rid of Ingrid. The wolf sat down in front of her, his blue eyes fixed accusingly on Eileen.
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have done this to Leif. But if I didn’t give Ingrid something, she’d have convinced her father to throw me out of their lands…or worse. Ingrid is Jarl Elof’s only daughter, and as spoiled as she is, Ingrid knows perfectly how to get whatever she wants from her father. I don’t want him to throw me out of my home; it isn’t easy to be a lone woman without a safe place to stay.”
The wolf licked her hand and released a deep grunt. Eileen scratched him behind the ears.
“And one way or another, Ingrid would have found a means to trick Leif to reach her goal. At least now, Leif won’t be in any danger. He’ll only have a very healthy urge to fuck Ingrid, and anyway, I only gave her enough potion to last one week.”
The wolf stopped licking to stare at her, and Eileen could swear he looked bewildered. She gave him a crooked smile.
“It wasn’t a love potion. I gave Ingrid the brew I make for the studs during mating season. I used the hair only to make Leif focus his zeal on her. After a few days, Ingrid will probably be happy to see him leave for greener pastures.” Eileen giggled, imagining Ingrid trying to escape with widespread legs.
The wolf closed his eyes with a low whimper.
“Hey, it isn’t that bad! Bitch or not, Ingrid is beautiful and she’s the daughter of a jarl. It could have been worse!”
Chapter Two
Horror-stricken, Eileen eyed the blonde lock of hair under the stool. Slowly, she bent down and reached for it. How could Ingrid’s hair be there? Eileen was sure she’d thrown the lock into the cauldron! However, if the hair in her hand was any indication, then it hadn’t been Ingrid’s.
A hunch made Eileen rush outside. She almost stumbled over a hen in her haste, but didn’t stop to catch it and take it to the backyard with the rest of the chickens. First things first! As she reached the ash tree beside her hut, she came to an abrupt halt and stared at the empty nail. A cold shiver ran through her body. There, exactly there, should be hanging a black lock of hair. Her very own hair! The hair that should have been exposed to the moon’s magic, so she could transform it into a talisman. She searched around the tree, and finally fell on her knees to look for the lock of hair. The wind probably had made the lock fall from the nail. There had to be an explanation for why it wasn’t hanging there! With her heart beating faster and faster, Eileen combed the grass surrounding the old tree. Nothing. Her hands touched only soil, stones and little insects.
She couldn’t have confused her hair with Ingrid’s…could she have? Oh Loki, god of mischief and chaos! Eileen sat back on her heels and looked around forlornly. What could she do now? She couldn’t know if the hair she’d thrown into the potion was hers or not but obviously she hadn’t added Ingrid’s. She wished there’d been someone else there—someone who’d watched as she’d created the potion so she could ask what she’d done—but other than Ingrid, only the wolf had been in the room. Eileen’s eyes widened… The wolf!
She jumped to her feet and searched frantically around the hut but the wolf was nowhere to be found. He had left that morning and hadn’t returned. If she couldn’t ask the wolf to find her lock of hair, there was only one thing she could do. She had to keep Leif from drinking the potion by any means. Taking her cloak, she began to sprint through the forest as if her life was at stake, and there was no doubt it would be if she didn’t reach Leif in time. If his zeal weren’t focused on Jarl Elof’s daughter, Ingrid would convince her father that Eileen had given Ingrid the wrong potion on purpose and had committed treachery toward their clan. And Eileen didn’t even want to think what could happen if Leif discovered that he’d been drugged without his consent, much less what he’d do if he didn’t find the woman he needed to relieve his ache.
* * * * *
Eileen kept herself hidden in the shadows of the trees and checked the clearing for Ingrid. Apparently, the feast had begun a good while ago. Some people had already dispersed and some were obviously drunk, dancing and roaring the lyrics to bawdy songs as loud as they could and making bets to see who could empty their horn faster. Eileen’s heart sank to her feet. She was too late! Eileen caught sight of Ingrid coming straight through the woods, accompanied by two foreign warriors who seemed to be enjoying the girl’s shameless flirting. And she’s the one who wants Leif to adore her, to worship her like a goddess? Is he supposed to wait at home while she fucks other men? Eileen took a step forward so Ingrid could see her.
“Witch! What are you doing here?” Ingrid stopped and put her hands on her hips, obviously not too happy to see Eileen, judging by the way the woman stared at her.
“I need the potion back.” There was no time to waste on useless chatter. Ingrid wasn’t interested in anything Eileen had to say, anyway.
“The potion?” Ingrid raised her eyebrow.
“Yes. The one I made for you yesterday,” Eileen insisted, preparing herself for Ingrid’s outburst. Nobody—especially not a worthless thrall like Eileen—asked Jarl Elof’s daughter to give back something she’d been given.
“Why should I give you the potion? It’s mine. As you just stated, you made it for me.” Ingrid’s eyes narrowed into two thin slits.
“It’s…” Eileen bit her lip. She couldn’t admit the mistake she’d made, that Leif’s desire would be focused on another woman—maybe her and not Ingrid—if he drank the beverage. “It’s just wrong. You should make him fall in love with you in a natural way.”
Ingrid’s loud cackle raised the attention of several others in the clearing. Disdainful looks were directed toward Eileen before people went away, obviously wanting to put distance between themselves and the witch.
“Too late! I already poured it all in his horn.” The blonde grinned.
Eileen felt the blood draining from her face.
“The whole jar?” Her knees buckled. “I told you to not give him more than a spoonful each day!” Eileen’s voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.
“There was no time to give him only one spoonful a day. Leif came only for
the first day of the festivities.” Ingrid shrugged. “He leaves tomorrow morning.”
Stunned, Eileen stared at the woman. Potions could kill people! Was the woman daft?
“Is something amiss?” one of the foreigners at Ingrid’s side asked, exchanging a worried glance with his comrade.
Eileen ignored them. Let Ingrid find an excuse for her companions. Eileen needed to find Leif. And soon! She still wasn’t sure if it was her lock of hair she’d thrown into the cauldron but regardless of whose hair she used, Leif was going to suffer if he couldn’t get his relief. Even if he was a big warrior, the potion was meant for studs and was therefore quite strong. Eileen didn’t even want to imagine what a whole week’s dose could do to a human.
Aware of the people’s curious stares, Eileen crossed the clearing and approached the trestle tables specially prepared for the feast. Most of the guests occupied benches, and only at the main table were chairs for the chiefs and warlords. The smell of roasted beef, rich stew and freshly baked bread reminded her that her last meal had been too many hours ago. Maybe she could find a thrall or servant with whom she could trade one of the amulets she always kept in her cloak for food before she went back home. With so much food everywhere, Jarl Elof’s wife wouldn’t notice if one of the thralls gave Eileen some meat and cheese to take with her. As she neared the main table, where Leif sat with the other jarls, the laughs and noisy conversations turned into low murmuring. The villagers weren’t used to having a witch visiting their festivities—not unless they had good reason to do so—and Eileen hadn’t a privileged position like those witches in other places. The villagers were probably trying to figure out why she ventured to come to their celebration. Eileen ignored the stares and whisperings and instead tried to center her attention on the man for whom she was there and who was looking straight at her.