Conquered Shores

by Brooklynn Rivers

  He worked his magic slowly, delving into her center with one finger then with two. Slickness gathered between her legs as he massaged the sensitive knot of her desire. Although he was her enemy, she couldn’t resist the way he made her feel. He rendered her defenseless with each stroke of his hand.

  She gasped as he sat her on top of him, impaling her with his unyielding shaft.

  “Ride me,” he groaned, cupping her buttocks, rocking her to and fro, “Ride me hard.”

  Once again, she succumbed to pleasure. She straddled him, bobbing up and down as he probed deeper. Her essence gathered inside her core with each powerful thrust. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Pressure started to build from within. She pumped faster, driving him in deeper.

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  “Come,” he groaned, meeting her thrusts with his own, “We can do it together.”

  With one final plunge, she climaxed as he filled her with white-hot passion. Every muscle in her body quaked. Every nerve burst with pleasure.

  Shannon rolled off and sucked in a breath. She stared into the mist that hovered above the pool and exhaled.

  “What’s the matter, sweeting?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

  “Ravenshield,” she said nervously.

  “Call me Gunnar.”

  “Gunnar.”

  “Yes?”

  “Nothin’ good is gonna come out of this.” She cleared her throat.

  “Yes it will,” he said, tracing the birthmark on her breast.

  “No,” she said and pushed his hand away, “Keepin’ me around will be of no benefit to ye.”

  “You have no idea who you truly are, do you?”

  “I know exactly who I am,” she said, “and there’s no easy way to say this.”

  “Say what?”

  “I wanna go home.”

  “No,” he said sharply, “You belong to me now.”

  “I belong to no man,” she said, scooting away from him.

  “I make the decisions around here. Not you.”

  “My presence here’ll only cause problems.”

  “That is a chance that I am willing to take.”

  “Why waste yer time?”

  “We are matched, do you not see that?”

  “Matched?” she scoffed, “I think not. Ye have plenty of women who would be willin’ to warm yer bed. I’m just one of many.”

  “You are special,” he said, meeting her eye to eye, “A gift from Thor himself.”

  “Och!” she huffed, “I don’ believe in yer pagan gods!”

  “You may not believe it but it is true.”

  “I cannae stay here. Do ye hear that?” Shannon asked, pointing to the door, hearing Kiera scream, “Nothin’ but woe will fall upon yer house if ye keep me here. I can feel it.”

  “How do you know such things? Are you a soothsayer? A witch perhaps?”

  “No,” she shuddered, thinking of her visions, “I’m neither.”

  “The prophecy foretells of a Valkyrie,” he explained, getting up from the ground. A Valkyrie made of fire.”

  She laughed aloud. “Ye have been at sea far too long.”

  “Do not mock me.” His temper flared.

  “Ye have lost yer mind,” she scoffed.

  He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her from the floor. “Mind your place.”

  “Let go.” She tried to pry his fingers from her forearm.

  “I’m not the terrible man you think I am, Shannon,” he said, loosening his grip, “Get dressed.”

  “Gladly,” she said through clinched teeth.

  “I will not tolerate this,” he spat, pulling on his leather pants.

  “Ha!” She threw on her tunic. “If I’m supposed to be so revered, then why should I listen to ye?”

  Ravenshield seized her by the shoulders and spun Shannon around to face him. He had had enough of her goading and was determined to make her stop. Why didn’t she listen?

  “You try my patience!”

  Shannon looked up at him and saw a fury in his eyes like none other. He looked intimidating, menacing. Fear shot through her as she watched flames from the candlelight dance in his pupils. She swallowed back the bitter taste of terror, wondering if she had pushed him too far.

  “I don’t believe in your prophecy,” she whispered.

  With one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “I have had enough!”

  “Let me down!” she screamed, pounding on his back with her fists. “Let go of me!”

  “There’s no way I am going to do that,” he declared, walking across the room.

  “Where are ye takin’ me?” she cried.

  “We’re going to settle this once and for all.” Ravenshield said as he flung open the door.

  Chapter 8

  His shoulder dug into Shannon’s stomach with each pounding jolt. Blood rushed to her head so quickly that it caused her temples to throb. She turned to see the evening sun dip just below the treetops and wondered where Ravenshield was taking her.

  Darkness devoured the last remnants of daylight as he headed for the forest. Tears welled in her eyes. Panic filled the pit in her stomach. Was he planning to leave her in the woods?

  Fear seized her as he trampled through the woods with her over his shoulder. Shannon swallowed hard, knowing she had made a mess of things this time. Ravenshield was furious—blinded with rage because of her big mouth. She just could not stifle her Irish pride. A chill ran down her spine. There was no way she could survive the night stranded in the woods.

  “Wait,” she cried, “Perhaps we can talk about this.”

  “No,” he barked, marching into the woods, “Enough talk. The sooner you come to terms with who you are, the better off you will be.”

  “No!” she exclaimed, flailing her legs, “Ye cannae do this!”

  “Yes, I can.” Ravenshield tightened his grip.

  “Just because I don’ want to be yer sex slave doesnae give ye the right to do this!”

  Ravenshield whisked her off his shoulder and put her down on the ground. He spun her around to face him, glaring straight into her eyes. “What is it going to take for you to understand that you have no say in the matter?”

  “What kind of man are ye?”

  “The kind that is tired of hearing you talk!”

  “No real man would leave a woman out here without as much as a weapon.” Her voice trembled.

  “You’re tongue is sharp enough to fend off anything,” he countered.

  “Ye’re heartless,” she snapped.

  “If I were as heartless as you say, then I would leave you right now.”

  “Go ahead,” she taunted as her face turned red with anger, “I guess I will have to fend for myself.”

  He bent down closer to her and growled, “You would not last a night out here all alone. If wolves did not get to you first, then thieves would. You would fall prey to a pack of hungry beasts either way. What say you, lady?”

  “Stop it,” she said hoarsely.

  “That’s what I thought.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the dirt path.

  “Yer worse than any wolf or thief.”

  “I should give you a flogging for your brazen mouth.”

  “Ye wouldnae dare.”

  “Do not tempt me,” he said, winding his way through the woods.

  Fear spread through her like wildfire as he dragged her further into the dark forest. Crickets chirped loudly as daylight faded into shadow. The sound of twigs snapping and leaves rustling echoed through the hollow. A frosty breeze pricked at her skin, chiseling away at her courage.

  “Where are ye takin’ me?” she asked, listening to a wolf howl in the distance.

  “We’re going to see the Woodland Witch,” he replied, crossing over a dead log.

  “Woodland Witch?”

  “Yes. Now be quiet before I gag you.”

  Shannon looked around and wondered what kind of pagan
ritual awaited her. As a child, she remembered horrible stories of witches, keeping her awake long into the night—bloodthirsty savages, dark spells, human sacrifice. A sick feeling spread throughout her body. This cannot be, she thought, spying an animal’s skull that crowned a wooden pike in the middle of the trail.

  Suddenly a large mound appeared from out of the shadows—a mud hut. Tendrils of smoke billowed out from a crude chimney jutting up from the roof. Dim light streamed out of two narrow windows, casting an eerie glow that pierced through the darkness. The shrubbery that hugged the walls looked like demons reaching out to grab her.

  Terror seized her as they approached the doorway. Sweat moistened her palms. Blood rushed through her veins. Heat scorched her face as she swallowed the bitter taste of fear. Panic oozed from every pore, paralyzing her where she stood.

  Shannon looked on as Ravenshield balled up his fist. Don’t do it, she said to herself. It is hard to tell what is in there. Run! Run away! Evil dwells there, she thought, taking a step backward.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Shannon gasped as a thunderous noise rocked the inside, vibrating the rotten boards. Silence blanketed the forest. Tension filled the air making it unbearably heavy. Something or someone stirred from within—a slow shuffle broke the silence.

  “Who dares disturbs the Woodland Witch?” A raspy voice asked.

  “Ursa,” Ravenshield started, “It’s me.”

  The spy hole slid open, and a bluish grey eye peeped out. “Step a little closer.”

  “As you wish,” he said quietly, leaning toward the door.

  Suddenly it slammed shut and, with a few clangs, the door swung open. A tiny woman in beggar’s clothing stepped out on the threshold. Her disheveled hair was entirely white and looked as wild as the madness in her eyes. Shannon tried not to stare but was drawn to the mud-caked face that showed signs of too many winters.

  “I have been expecting you, Ravenshield,” she said.

  “I am here seeking your guidance.”

  “Of course, you have,” she said, “Come inside and warm yourself by the fire.”

  “Thank you,” he smiled, following her lead.

  Shannon entered the witch’s hut cautiously. Blankets and furs covered the floor while a roaring fire filled the hearth. An iron caldron hung just above the crackling embers. She could not help but wonder what the old hag was simmering inside the large pot.

  “Do you think I am cooking bat wings and frog eyes?” The witch cackled loudly.

  Shannon face flushed, wondering if the old woman could read minds. There was an air of darkness surrounding Ursa, she thought. And one thing was for certain—she wanted no part of it.

  “Sit,” The witch motioned both of them to the floor. “Sit, sit.”

  She swallowed hard and watched the hag scuttle from one end of the room to the other gathering a kettle and three goblets. What was she preparing? Poison? Whatever it was, Shannon was not going to drink it.

  “What is she doing?” Shannon whispered to Ravenshield as they sat on the rug.

  “Making tea,” Ursa answered, bustling around the fire, “I do not have guests often.”

  “Thank you for allowing us in your home,” Ravenshield said graciously, “Ursa, is there anything you need?”

  “Winter was rough this year,” she explained, “but I managed well. I need more firewood. The nights get a little too chilly for these tired bones.”

  “Consider it done,” Ravenshield continued, “I’ll see that you get at least two cords.”

  “Your generosity is most welcomed,” she said, pouring three flagons of warm liquid.

  The witch shoved one of the goblets in front of Shannon and took a seat. She stared into it, watching steam float into the air. With one quick sniff, she whiffed the aroma—it smelled like tea, but appearances could be deceiving.

  “Go on,” Ursa coaxed, waving her hand, “Drink it. It is just tea.”

  Shannon looked up and saw Ursa staring straight at her with a huge grin on her face. Her teeth were yellowed and stained. She peered into a pair of piercing eyes set in dark hollows that seemed to have no end. In the dim light, the old hag’s face looked like a skull.

  “Shannon,” Ravenshield said, snapping her out of the trance, “It is rude to refuse her.”

  Shannon watched him take a few large gulps before she brought the cup to her lips. It is tea, she said silently and clearing her throat. One little taste would not hurt. Go on and do it, her conscience prodded. If Ravenshield drank it, then it was not poison.

  Hesitantly, she brought the cup to her lips. With one small sip, she tasted it, savoring the minty flavor. It wasn’t bitter at all. As a matter of fact, it was sweet and rather pleasing.

  “I knew that you would like it,” Ursa grinned, “There are many things I know about you. Many things that the prophecy has yet to reveal.”

  Shannon raised her head, narrowing her eyes on the hag. How would a woodland witch know anything about her? There were dark and dangerous forces surrounding this woman and she wanted no part of any prophecy.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ursa growled.

  “Do what?” Shannon asked.

  With one quick swoop, the hag grabbed Shannon by the arm and ripped the front of her dress, exposing her breasts. Kicking and screaming she tried to fight the witch off, but her limbs felt weak. Her head grew heavy. She was paralyzed. Something held her down. There was an unknown force that drained her energy, rendering her helpless.

  She could hear her own heart beat faster and faster. Her lungs filled with terror as Ursa drew closer. It was impossible to breathe.

  The witch was fixed on Shannon’s birthmark, stretching out one gnarled finger to trace the outline it with her nail. Heat radiated from the mark as it began to glow.

  “She’s the one!” Ursa screamed.

  “Are you sure?” Ravenshield asked, cradling Shannon in his arms.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  “What do the spirits tell you?”

  Ravenshield shuddered as he watched the witch’s eyes roll back in her head. She’s having a vision, he thought. Doubt clouded his mind—what if something went wrong. He had to protect Shannon at all cost.

  “Help me,” Shannon whispered, watching Ravenshield unsheathe his sword.

  “She is the Valkyrie. The Valkyrie of Fire,” Ursa chanted, rising from the ground, “The one who tames her will get all they desire. Your saga is treacherous until all can see. Her powers are strong and can force one to his knees. Death and destruction will follow ‘til she’s bound. Beware, Ravenshield, lest you’re buried in the ground.”

  Suddenly a whirlwind of smoke hurled out of the hearth swirling around the room, churning the air violently. Chairs slid across the floor. Goblets slammed against the wall. The ground quaked fiercely.

  Shannon felt weightless, freed. The wind whipped and lashed at her body. She could move again—and not a moment too soon! Breaking away from Ravenshield’s grasp, she crawled toward the door and unlocked the latch. Let the walls crumble down around them, she thought, racing outside into the night. Nothing was going to stop her from escaping now.

  “She’s getting away!” Ursa screamed as the winds whipped violently.

  Ravenshield scrambled to his feet and dashed out the door. Where did she go? He glanced around looking for any trace of her. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a ghostly shadow disappearing into the thicket just a few yards in front of him.

  “Shannon!” he yelled, bolting after her.

  Shannon heard his voice trail off into the woods. She had to keep running. She had to get away. Wolves and thieves couldn’t be any worse than what she had just endured.

  Keep going, she said to herself. And don’t look back. She needed to find a place to hide. There had to be a way out of these cursed woods, and she was determined to find it.

  Night swallowed her, one shadow at a time. As she darted down a narrow path, the forest came alive. Tree limbs slashed at her. Thorn
s scraped her ankles. Vines snaked up from the ground, shackling her feet.

  Her head throbbed. The palms of her hands dripped with sweat. She couldn’t see. Danger lurked in the shadows. There was no escape. Suddenly, leaves reached out and covered her face.

  “Who do we have here?”

  Shannon turned around and gasped. It was not leaves that smothered her but a thick palm instead. The dark phantom shoved her against the oak tree and held her there. Bark scraped her shoulders and back as she struggled to break free.

  She glanced up at the silhouette towering over her. Terror seized her as a stream of moonlight cascaded over his face. She recognized the battle scars that peppered the left side of his cheek.

  Magnus.

  “Now what are you doing out here in the woods all alone?” he growled, “I knew that if I waited long enough, you’d be mine.”

  Horror flowed through Shannon’s veins as she fought to get away. Thrashing. Kicking. He leaned against her using his body to pin her down. She tried to squirm out of his hold, but he was too strong—too powerful.

  “Go on and fight,” he whispered in her ear, “Keep it up. You will soon grow too weary to care.”

  His breath burned her skin as she continued to struggle. She would rather die than be claimed by him. For once, she wished that Ravenshield would come and rescue her.

  “There are things I’m going to do to you that will make you scream,” he growled, sliding his hand inside the front of her dress.

  “Get off me!” she groaned.

  He caught a glimpse of Shannon’s birthmark. “What is that?”

  “Let go of her!” Ravenshield’s voice echoed through the forest.

  Magnus turned his head and saw Ravenshield running straight for him. He spun around to face him but kept a firm hold on Shannon’s shoulder.

  “Ravenshield,” he smirked, “What are you doing out here?”

  “I can ask you the same thing,” Gunner replied.

  “I heard something in the woods and decided to see what was going on.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No one is allowed beyond the crossroad,” he said as tension grew, “You know that.”