by Jaid Black
The crowd burst into cheers. She could feel Aleksi’s gaze boring into her.
Mayhap he would never want her for a wife, yet Agata took great pleasure in knowing that, at least in this moment, he coveted her.
AT LONG LAST, Erikk made his bedamned appearance. Why he couldn’t have done so earlier, before the wenches of Otar’s family had proceeded to take off their clothes, made Otar all the angrier.
Leaping toward Erikk with a growl, it took Otar but one hard punch to knock Otrygg’s nephew onto his backside. Otrygg was there in a heartbeat, picking Erikk up by the scruff of the neck and blasting his ears with foul words.
A handful of Toki’s soldiers attempted to interfere, but Lord Ericsson had been prepared for that eventuality. Within seconds, all hell broke loose in the alehouse.
From the corner of his eye Otar saw Madalyn quickly fetch the coins that had been tossed on stage. That accomplished, the three women ran back behind the curtain.
They were safe—good. It meant his wife would be physically up to the arse spanking she’d receive soon.
Chapter
Thirty-four
After tallying up their considerable booty, Drake, Agata, and Annikki had wisely decided to go to the adjoining hut. Otar and Madalyn would be having some heated words, and they all knew it.
Pacing in her bustier and G-string, Madalyn waited for her husband to arrive. She could hardly wait for him to get here; she needed to get a lot of anger off her chest. Though truth be told, she was mostly hurt.
The door to the hut slammed open. Otar stood there, a fresh cut on his face but otherwise unscathed. Only the black leather strap slashed across his chest where he kept his weapons. His hair had grown a little, falling past his shoulders. The two plaited braids remained, securing his black hair away from his dark eyes. His breathing was heavy, his eyes narrowed in anger. Every muscle in his body was corded with barely controlled fury.
They locked angry gazes.
“How could you!” they shouted simultaneously.
“Me?” Otar bellowed. He waved an enraged hand. “I’ve done naught but fight to protect New Sweden, and thereby my wife and family. But I see my wife was busy doing other things whilst I faced death on a daily basis!” His face twisted in pure, unadulterated fury. “Have you fucked anyone? Tell me! Tell me his name so I can kill him with mine own hands!”
“No!” she gasped. “And don’t you dare turn this around on me!” Typical male behavior, Madalyn seethed. She had thought Otar was so different from other men. “You can find the time to go to a strip show,” she screeched, “but you can’t find the time to let us know you’re alive?”
He stared down at her, his face incensed. Madalyn stared up at him, just as irate.
“I’ve sent home missives at least twice a sennight,” Otar gritted out. “Do not lie to me!”
“You’re the liar! We haven’t heard a damn thing. We were afraid you were dead!”
Otar blinked. Some of his anger seemed to wane, surprising Madalyn. She had thought he was trying to turn the tables on her. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he believed everything he was saying was true. The thought caused some of her own heat to fade a bit.
“Why did you take your clothes off?” he rasped. His jaw tightened. “It nigh unto killed me.”
Madalyn met his hurt gaze directly. “We were on the verge of starving, Otar. We had no food to eat.”
His eyes searched hers. “I sent home coins every sennight.”
“We never got them.” She shook her head. “Go next door and ask your mother, if you don’t believe me. For the last week, we’ve been living on one meal a day.”
She wanted to make the pain in his eyes go away, but first she needed an answer.
“Why did you do it?” Madalyn whispered. “Why did you go there to see women you presumably didn’t know take off their clothes, when you could have come home to me?”
“’Twas to capture a traitor we knew was to be there this eve.” His gaze softened. “I want no woman but you, Madalyn. Not now, and not ever.”
“I love you, and you hurt me,” she said quietly.
He stilled, her proclamation that she loved him sinking in and taking root. “I love you, too, Madalyn.” His voice was pained, his expression tortured. “It nigh unto killed me, seeing you up on that stage. Unable to reveal myself to the enemy, I could do naught but watch whilst soldiers, warriors, and nobles alike coveted what is mine.”
They stared at each other, adrenaline-induced by anger flaming into desire. Otar reached to her breasts and unclasped the bustier. It flew open, her breasts popping out.
“I’d kill any man who touched you,” Otar ground out. He palmed her breasts and rubbed her nipples. “You belong to me and only to me.”
Madalyn moaned, the sensual massage making thought difficult. But something needed to be said. “The same for you, Otar. I can’t stand the thought of you making another woman feel the way you make me feel.”
His hands fell from her breasts and found the dragon. He unclasped it, and she stood before him naked. His fingers sifted through her golden-red triangle before rubbing her clit.
“Vow to me that you will never fuck another man.” He backed her toward their bed, his voice guttural, like an animal’s warning growl. “Vow it.”
“I promise,” Madalyn soothed.
His strong fingers clasped her buttocks and kneaded them. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight.
“I don’t want any man but you touching me, Otar.”
Teeth setting, he whirled his wife around and bodily pressed her stomach toward the bed. He grabbed her hips and pulled them upward, preparing to penetrate her from behind.
The dominance in Otar’s touch was unnerving; Madalyn had never felt the full brunt of his possessiveness before. Her husband was always so stoic—she had never seen him so seemingly out of control.
“I love you, Madalyn,” he rasped, his hard cock poking against her entry. He released one of her hips and used his hand to guide him to her welcoming flesh. Positioned, his hand returned to her hip, locking her into a submissive pose. “Always.”
Otar surged into her on a growl, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. She gasped as he mounted her, his cock thick and filling.
“Oh God,” Madalyn breathed out, her nipples jutting out as he began rocking inside of her. He stroked in and out, the sound of her flesh suctioning his back in with every outstroke reaching her ears.
He took her harder, faster, moaning and groaning as he surged into her. Skin slapped against skin, the scent of their combined arousal perfuming the small hut.
“My pussy feels so good,” he ground out, fucking her at a wicked pace. His fingers dug harder into her hips as he ruthlessly branded her with his cock. “Madalyn.”
She moaned as he rode her, breasts jiggling beneath her. She arched her buttocks up higher in the air, allowing him to sink into her to the hilt.
Over and over he fucked her, hard, merciless strokes meant to conquer and claim. One of his hands dropped from her hips and found her clit, his callused fingers rubbing it at a brisk pace.
“Oh—God-oh-God-oh-God.”
Madalyn came quickly and fiercely, her body shaking from the violence of her orgasm. She cried out his name as he continued to thrust in and out of her, fast, deep strokes that further aroused her.
“I’m coming,” Otar said thickly, his body tensing over hers. He kept up the brutal pace, sinking into her depths over and over, again and again and again.
“Madalyn!”
Her name came out as a roar, a bellowing sound that was at once forceful and loving. His body stiffened as he came, a gush of warm semen filling her insides.
Madalyn collapsed onto the bed on her belly. Otar soon followed beside her, so as not to hurt her with his massive weight.
It took her a long moment to find the energy to move, but she located enough to snuggle into her husband’s powerful embrace. She slowly fell asleep, enveloped by a feeling of security
and completion she’d never before known in a man’s arms.
THEY SLEPT FOR BARELY HALF AN HOUR before Otar reached for Madalyn, rousing her. Sleepy, but fully aware of her husband’s larger-than-life presence next to her on the bed, she immediately noted that his territorial mindset hadn’t waned from their earlier lovemaking session. He was as aroused and forbidding as ever.
Madalyn slowly turned over on her side, facing Otar. His gaze was as vulnerable as it was possessive. He wanted to know that she viewed herself as more than a captive bride, as more than an Outsider woman who’d been forced into dwelling below the ground with him. Otar wanted the reassurance that she now saw herself as his wife.
She understood his fears, but didn’t know how to calm them. Only time and patience would demonstrate the depth of her love for him.
“I missed you so much when you were gone,” Madalyn whispered. She smiled softly.
“Show me,” Otar said hoarsely. He grabbed his stiff cock by the base and guided it toward her mouth. “Show me that you belong to me, Madalyn.”
His demeanor was one of dominance, a man who needed proof in every way a woman could give it that he was wanted. Madalyn didn’t hesitate long enough to blink. She opened her mouth and accepted his stiff cock inside.
Otar groaned as he slowly sank into her, his muscles tense. She sucked him hard on his outstroke, causing him to hiss.
“Play with my balls,” he thickly demanded, picking up the pace of his thrusts. “Gods, Madalyn,” he gritted out, “I love the way you suck my cock.”
His words encouraged her to suck faster. She bobbed her head up and down underneath him, greedily sucking him off. Otar moaned as he rode her, pumping in and out from between her lips at a frenzied pace.
The sound of wet mouth meeting stiff flesh echoed in the hut. His balls tightened, and she knew he was getting ready to explode.
“Suck my cock harder,” he growled, throwing his hips at her. She could see his jaw tighten. “Faster.”
Madalyn moaned as she sucked him hard, her head moving impossibly faster. He slammed into her mouth once, twice, three times more, then plucked his cock from between her lips with a popping sound.
“I want to come in my pussy,” Otar told her, his breathing labored. Beads of perspiration soaked his hairline. Throwing her legs over his shoulders, he gripped her thighs as he pressed the head of his cock against her moist entrance. “I love you, Madalyn.” Otar sank into her on a growl, plunging into her flesh to the hilt.
Madalyn gasped, her head falling back on the animal furs. “I love you, too,” she breathed out. “I’m sorry I was too scared to tell you that before you left.”
Her confession that she’d loved him for weeks made him impossibly stiffer inside of her. Nostrils flaring, Otar rode her hard, her breasts jiggling beneath him with every thrust.
The sound of flesh sucking in rigid flesh heightened Madalyn’s arousal. His fingers dug into her thighs as he took her hard and fast, making her moan and groan. A carnal knot of tension coalesced in her belly.
“I’m coming,” Madalyn gasped, sensation rocking her. He rode her harder and faster and—
“Oh God.”
The knot in her belly burst, the hardest orgasm of her life, the possessiveness in his lovemaking driving her wild.
“Mine,” Otar said hoarsely. He rode her like an animal, guttural growls erupting from his throat. His jugular bulged, every muscle in his body straining. “All mine.”
Otar came on a bellow, his cock jerking inside of her. Madalyn continued to throw her hips at him, knowing how much her husband loved it when she used her intimate muscles to milk him for every bit of cum he had to give.
“Madalyn,” he said huskily, slowly winding down the pace. “I love you so much.”
They collapsed in each other’s arms and lay that way for long minutes, neither moving or speaking.
Then again—Madalyn smiled, snuggling closer to her husband—words weren’t needed. They both knew how they felt about each other.
Madalyn Mae Simon Thordsson finally understood what it meant to love and be loved in return with equal passion. Shanty Row might be undesirable to the rest of Lokitown, but it was the best place in the world for her to be.
Chapter
Thirty-five
One month later
The Revolution ended with Toki’s death and the rebels’ victory. Hope and jubilation swamped New Sweden the day that Lord Nikolas Ericsson was crowned the new jarl and festivities sprang up everywhere, a party atmosphere engulfing the colony.
Otar was reinstated as a noble and as the rightful heir to his father’s estate. Leaving Shanty Row behind had been a bit sad for Madalyn, as her memories there were mostly good ones for her. The posh Thordsson longhouse, however, more than made up for it. Annikki had wept the moment she stepped foot inside the palatial house she’d spent most of her life in.
Annikki was doing well in other ways, too. She and Vardo continued their game of dodge and pursuit, but with each passing day, the cat grew closer to catching his mouse. Madalyn couldn’t wait for Vardo and Annikki to marry. Both of them wanted it and both of them deserved the happiness that would come from finally being together.
Agata was no longer lacking in suitors, nobles and warriors congregating daily for the chance to speak with her. All of them hoped Otar would put his twin sister up on the bride auction block soon, but Madalyn knew Otar wouldn’t do so until Agata said she was ready.
There was one man in particular, a noble named Aleski Pontus, who was always finding a reason to visit the Thordssons. Madalyn realized he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Agata, who, for reasons unknown, avoided him like the plague. She found her sister-in-law’s behavior strange. Especially considering the fact that Agata dearly loved Vardo, and Aleski was his son.
Drake and Iiro had worked things out, too. Iiro had been raised in status from soldier to warrior and was given a new, larger home. After Drake cleared the home of any signs of alien activity, she moved in.
Shanty Rowers were developing a higher status, as well. The alehouse had been converted into a theater and was expected to become one of Lokitown’s hot spots. Madalyn, Annikki, Agata, and Vardo were slated for their opening-night performance in less than two weeks. Annikki could hardly contain her enthusiasm; Vardo just wanted his kiss.
Best of all, Madalyn’s relationship with Otar grew deeper every day. If someone had told her the day she’d been captured in Alaska that a time would come when she couldn’t bear the thought of a life without Otar, she would have told them they were insane.
But that time had come. Otar was not only her husband, but her best friend as well. They had already accomplished things that it took most couples years to perfect, like finishing each other’s sentences and understanding each other’s personalities.
But then, they spent a lot of time together, both happier in the other’s presence than they could ever be out of it. Now that Otar worked from home, instead of at the grindstone, there was more time to be near each other. A definite bonus to her husband’s reclaimed heritage.
In the parlor, rehearsing her lines for the upcoming play, Madalyn stopped midline when she heard familiar baaing sounds, followed by the equally common sound of Otar bellowing. Victoria and Thor must have gotten out of their corral again. Otar hated it when that happened because they had a tendency to eat everything in sight.
“Victoria!” Otar barked, stomping into the parlor. “Get your wife and be gone anon.”
Madalyn grinned at her husband. He had called Victoria Thor and Thor Victoria for the longest time. It took him three weeks to get their names right, but now he never messed them up.
“They ate another pair of my braes,” Otar complained to Madalyn. He raised a callused hand to his forehead and sighed. It was apparent that drama ran in the family. “They conspire against me to drive me daft.”
“Awww, poor baby.” Madalyn chuckled. Her eyes danced as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Would you like
me to shoo them into their corral for you?”
“I can do it,” he grumbled. “But I need a kiss, first.”
That was just fine, because she needed one, too. A slow, lingering liplock later, neither of them could recall why Otar had come into the parlor to begin with.
“Are you happy, Madalyn?” Otar asked, hugging her close to him. “’Tis my greatest wish to make you the contentest wife in all the world.”
She smiled against his chest. Madalyn found it adorable how such a big, formidable man needed emotional reassurance.
“Your wish has come true.” She gave Otar a big squeeze. “I never thought I could be so incredibly happy.”
“Do you miss your old life at all?”
Madalyn shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Nay?”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
It was the truth. Madalyn Mae Thordsson née Simon had become an actress under the misguided notion that fame and fortune would equal love and completion. While she would always be proud of her acting accomplishments, she didn’t miss the world aboveground in the least.
Her heart just wasn’t there. If she was honest with herself, her heart hadn’t been there for several years before the fateful meeting with her husband.
“I love you, Otar,” Madalyn whispered. “Thank you for being mine.”
He’d spoken those words to Madalyn before, and his gentle gaze told her that fact hadn’t been lost on him.
“I love you, too, Madalyn.” He kissed the top of her head. “Are you about done rehearsing, so I can woo you into the bed furs?”
She grinned, teasingly thumping his chest. “Is that all you ever think about?”
Otar winked. “Aye.”
Snorting and crunching sounds reached their ears. They turned their heads in unison to see Victoria and Thor chomping on another leather victim.
“Ah gods!” Otar said, exasperated. “I will not have a single pair of braes to my name, do they have their say about it.”