by Bambi Lynn
“Who?”
“Hush, Wulf.”
Her modor held her hands between her own. Small comfort when what she really wanted was to crawl onto her lap and feel her arms wrapped about her. “You still believe he is helping us? After what he did to you?” Her voice sounded incredulous.
“What did he do?”
“Hush, Wulf!”
“I have to believe that. Otherwise what hope is there?”
Edlyn looked down at their entwined hands. She stroked her thin, heavily-veined ones over hers, younger but equally calloused and thin. It had been so long since she had shown either of them the slightest concern, Kaylla was not sure how to respond to this new demeanor.
“They are leaving before sunrise on the morrow.”
Her heart leapt within her chest. Her throat tightened blocking the air from her lungs. “Where? What about us?”
“They go to Axning.” She shrugged. “They will take some hostages, to ensure the rest of us stay put, but…I do not know who.”
Is he going to take me with him?
She snapped her lips shut, realizing she wanted him to take her. Or even better, stay. “What of you?”
“Wray is leaving me behind, but giving me the choice to wait or flee.”
“Wray? That stumped over heathen has a name?”
“Do not speak ill of him. He has shown mercy.” She glanced around at the abused women. “I could have suffered so much more.”
Kaylla stared at her, unconvinced. “Seems we have both put our trust in men we should not.”
Wulf looked up at her. “What will we do?”
‘Twas her modor who answered. “After they leave tomorrow, we’ll decide. Now, I must return.”
“What? No!” Wulf jumped to his feet, blocking her way to the door.
Kaylla felt equally appalled that she would willingly return to that barbarian who claimed her.
Edlyn took Wulf’s hand and pulled him back down next to them. “Do not worry for me. He will not harm me.”
She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. She hadn’t realized she had been squeezing them into tight fists, but now she noticed the sting of her ragged nails bearing into her palms, still scraped and sore from crouching on all fours in the yard.
Her modor placed a gentle hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry for what he did. I didn’t see, but I know.”
“What? What did he do?” Wulf fairly bounced up and down with curiosity.
“We needs must bide our time. Do not go rushing in to save the world. Wait. See what happens. You forever remind us that all will work out. We must cling to that hope now.” She pointed her gaze at Wulf. “Think of the danger Wulf could face.”
The three of them stood. Kaylla clutched Wulf to her.
He fought to escape her grasp. “Do not go.” He sounded like the little boy he was.
“I must. I just needed to tell you, Kaylla. Keep your brother safe.”
Wulf was stunned to stillness as Edlyn hugged them both to her. When was the last time she had hugged one of her children?
“It does not matter how many children I’ve lost; it does not matter how much I try to distance myself from you, if anything happens to either of you, I will have no more reason to live.”
Nothing could have prepared her for the emotion that welled up within her at her modor’s words. She pulled back to look at her. She looked younger somehow. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“I’ll keep Wulf safe.” She choked back her own tears. “We’ll see each other soon?”
Edlyn nodded and stepped away. She turned at the door and gave them a lopsided smile. They both kept waving even after she had closed the door behind her.
Chapter Eighteen
She liked it! Rolf stood too close to the pyre. He stepped away from the heat and began circling the perimeter, viciously kicking debris into the flames. The smell of burning flesh recoiled within him. Better to focus his attention on keeping the contents of his stomach put rather that the arousal Kaylla displayed while he fucked her in front of a group of the roughest men he knew.
Her inner walls had thickened. Her puss had grown slick with her juices. His cock grew hard just remembering the soft feel of her clenching him, milking him of his seed. He had found it easy enough to come quickly. To prolong the pleasure was to prolong her exposure.
He had warned her not to fight. Praise Odin she had obeyed. He knew her body well enough that he had recognized arousal within her. But what had unleashed such passion? Had she found it stimulating to be subjugated before his comrades?
He had never doubted his prowess between the bed furs. But it seemed unlikely that she had been so aroused by him with so little effort on his part. He had ever enjoyed the pleasures of a woman without considering the source of her desire. All that mattered was that she indeed desired the bedsport.
Leastwise that was all that had mattered before now. He had known women who were stirred by the knowledge of being watched. But for some reason, he yearned for reassurance that she lusted for him.
Why did he care whether this girl was excited by her own lustful fantasies or his cock in her slit? The end result was the same, was it not?
So why did the notion that her pleasure may have had little to do with him eat away at his insides? While at the same time the realization of such a passionate nature filled his cock with an ache so intense he could barely keep his hands off it?
It wasn’t the other men watching. He had finished quickly to protect her modesty. There had hardly been anything for them to see. But the thought of her being aroused by any man but him made him want to shove a very large sword into the gullet of every man who laid eyes on her.
It had almost been more than he could bear to hide his jealousy. But hide it he must. This ruthless lot would find so much more sport in Kaylla if they suspected him of any feeling toward her. They would be all over her, and him most likely dead in the fight.
He almost smiled at the idea of Kaylla in that fight. He bet she’d have some spit then.
He had ever been the brunt of the clan’s jokes over his concern for the girl who had ended her life rather than spend another night as Boddi’s slave. They could begin a whole new generation of mocking tales with this one.
He looked around the courtyard. There were too many of them to overcome with mere strength. He would need brains, not brawn to outwit them. He considered the men who conveniently claimed to have arrived too late to aid King Ulfrik’s small fleet. Some he recognized. Most of them had seen too many years of the sea and had reached an age to settle with a woman to warm their bed furs at night. What possessed them to follow Boddi in a traitorous attack on their king?
While he felt sure of Boddi’s ruthless ambition to take his uncle’s place, did his own loyalties not lie with his brethren? Even if Boddi had instigated the attack, he was now the rightful king. He would not be the first Norseman to take the mantel of leader by force.
But did that make Boddi worthy of his allegiance? To his shame, he found his loyalties flickering like flame fighting against a breeze. Were his feelings for Kaylla threatening his loyalty to his countrymen?
He had tried to save the slave girl, had shielded her as best he could without directly confronting Boddi. He had felt protective of her as he had every woman and child he had ever known. Unsavory emotions, guilt and regret, had been rekindled when Rheda plunged that knife into her own heart. He had no more been able to save her than he had the slave girl.
He had never cared about being well-liked. His stubborn judgment had kept him in the king’s good graces but had done little to endear him to his clansmen. But he had never considered betraying his brethren, for certes not on a slave’s behalf.
Until now.
He roared his frustration, barely heard over the roar of the huge bonfire. I just met her two fucking days ago! How had he fallen in love with Kaylla so quickly? She was weak, not physically, but inside, allowing her friends and family to take advantage of her.
Did she not see how these people used her? Why did she insist on taking care of everyone around her?
Even him? A hated enemy?
She could easily have slit his throat and left him on that beach. Instead, she had taken him into her home, tended his wounds, fed him while she went hungry.
Her gentle touch soothed him while at the same time enflaming his body with passion. It was her dream of a perfect world that led her to hope for a future she might not come to know.
He stopped and stared through the flames to the hut where she was being held, his prisoner now. In an instant, he knew where his loyalties lie.
***
Kaylla huddled in the corner, outcast from the very people for whom she had sacrificed so much. Maybe she had encouraged them not to flee, but she had not forced anyone against their will. In the end, they had chosen to stay and fight, to protect their homes instead of slinking away in terror.
She had ever done what she thought was best for the people of this village, often sacrificing her own needs and desires for the good of the others. Across from her sat Mae. When her men had gone off to seek their revenge, she had lost everyone. Weeks passed, and everyone assumed the worst. Their fighting men were lost. They would not be returning home. Mae had sunk into solitude, resentful, angry at everyone. She refused to leave this hut. She barely ate and had very nearly starved.
And she would have had Kaylla not brought her out of that, offering her someone to rant at, a way to expend her anger and sorrow, her feelings of helplessness. She had raged against the injustice of it all over and over again. Kaylla’s calming words had often seemed to soothe Mae’s bereaved soul, even if only for a short time. She had put on a little weight. She showed signs of life again.
Now the old Mae directed blame at her. She huddled near the hearth, her jaw set, shooting daggers at her through resentful eyes. And she was not the only one. She could not ignore the accusing glares of those around her. No one spoke to her. No one sought to ease her concern for her modor or her humiliation at the hands of those bastards who would decide their future.
She had been cast out from the very people for whom she had sacrificed her whole life. She had never felt more alone.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she brushed them away with her fists. Who was she to feel humiliation when nearly every woman in this hut had been brutally raped, many by more than one man. Their abuse lacked the added revulsion of being forced to perform. But it must have been even more horrifying.
She squeezed her hands into tight fists. Her sex still ached. She would have wanted to die if any of those barbarians had put a hand on her. But knowing they watched while Rolf gave her pleasure filled her with a perverse desire. He had barely entered her before spilling his seed. But, as ever, his touch inflamed her, bringing about her own release just as quickly.
Shame had spread through her, and ultimately she was glad he had not prolonged his men’s pleasure at her discomfort. His advice to show no emotion had seemed to work. The band of marauders had appeared bored by the entire display and had given her little notice.
Had that been his plan all along?
If only she could talk to him. To discern his true feelings. Would he forsake his countrymen for her?
Not bloody likely.
She knew him for a man who, once he declared his loyalty, would be a fierce protector. But she also recognized that his allegiance could not easily be swayed. He would not betray his fellows for a passel of slaves.
Wulf appeared before her, followed closely by Bearn. The two boys squatted down in front of her.
“We’re going for help.” Behind Wulf, Bearn nodded, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were not overheard. He looked haggard and heartbroken. But she detected a glint of rage behind the sadness in his eyes.
Her heart ached for him. In a single afternoon, he had lost everyone. She had not seen William’s body in the yard, indeed she had barely thought of him. But she knew that he would never have been able to stand long against the skilled fighting men.
She snapped her gaze back to Wulf. “You are going to stay put and keep your head down.”
Wulf leaned closer and practically growled at her. “Tomorrow they are taking hostages. We cannot wait around and let them control our actions.”
Bearn duck-waddled up next to him. “There’s a hole worn in yon corner. We shall slip out into the darkness and beat them to Axning before they even know we’re gone.”
“We won’t get caught!”
“Shhhh!” They held their breaths as footsteps crunched against the gravel on the other side of the wall. When all was quiet again, she gripped Wulf’s upper arm and tried to shake some sense into him. “Someone could be standing just on the other side as soon as you emerge. They will enjoy killing you.”
“We won’t get caught,” Wulf repeated, more urgently this time.
She tried a different tactic. Cradling his small face in both hands, she implored him to heed her. She realized with a sinking heart, it would probably be the first time. “Please, Wulf. Do not try to be a hero. Think of Modor. As soon as they leave in the morning, we can spirit her away from here. We can take her to Elmham where it’s safe.”
“What about everyone else?”
His innocent question drew her up. What about everyone else? For the first time, she had not considered the others. Only her immediate family. “We cannot take care of everyone.” Had Modor not told her that again and again?
“Sissy, what if they take one of us hostage?”
Her heart melted at the name he had used since he was a small boy. “What’s to stop them doing that anyway, especially when they find you gone?”
Bearn took up the argument. “By the time they get half way there, we could be on our way back with help.”
She stared at him, her stomach sick with worry. They were right. Warning Eadwald was their only hope. If the Vikings attacked his arms men, the element of surprise would work in their favor. They might even defeat him.
The boys’ plan might work. With a reluctant sigh, she relented. “Show me.”
Wulf grinned and led her over a far corner of Mae’s hut. She felt the draft seeping through the neglected opening near the floor. There was indeed a hole, large enough for them to slip through. Wulf made to demonstrate right away.
She stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. “Listen.” They cocked their heads toward the wall, listening for any sound from outside. When all remained quiet, and with her heart heavy in her chest, she crushed Wulf to her in a desperate embrace, then pushed him to arms’ length. “Be careful. You, too, Bearn.”
The two boys, sadly the only men left of their village, slipped out into the darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
Rolf watched with seeming fascination as venison fat dripped onto the hot coals. After their meeting in the hall, Boddi had returned to further torture his new slave while some of the men had gone hunting. They all looked forward to fresh meat for supper. After they filled their bellies, most of them would claim a warm body from the hut where the other slaves were being kept and hunker down to rest before going vikingr at dawn.
He would eat his fill, pocketing enough for Kaylla, and steal her away before anyone thought to notice her. Boddi would not let up on his whore for hours. He would not stop his torment of the woman until he was fully sated, not even for a meal. As he had tried throughout the afternoon, he blocked out the woman’s cries. He stamped down memories of the slave girl forced to suck Boddi’s cock beneath the trestle table in his uncle’s hall while Boddi drank himself into a stupor. It had happened on more than one occasion before that bitter cold night when the girl had suffered all the humiliation a human could stand.
Kaylla’s own hut stood at the opposite end of the village from the one Boddi had claimed, and even farther from the still rancid odor of scorched human flesh. He hoped she would feel safer there, more secure.
He hoped he could discern her feelings. He had grown to manhood with the oath
of brotherhood on his tongue. Now he craved some validation that his change in loyalty was not in vain. Was he justified in his traitorous betrayal of his countrymen? Did she hate him more than ever?
His attention was drawn by commotion at the edge of the wood. Einar came crashing into the clearing fighting to maintain his hold on a small boy. As he neared the cooking fire, he revealed his captive to be none other than young Wulf.
Odin’s cock! He ground his teeth, clamping down on his frustration. In the last few hours he had managed to discern those who remained loyal to the old king and those who had ruthlessly followed Boddi in his scheme to seize power. The handful of them had agreed to help him save the villagers from a life of slavery.
Einar the Toothless was not one of those men.
He jabbed his chin toward the boy. “Where did he come from?”
Einar gripped Wulf’s hands behind his back, causing the boy to cry out in pain. He twisted his free hand into his thick hair, the same color as Kaylla’s, and jerked his head back. “I caught him trying to run. The other one got away.”
His heart lurched. “The other one?”
“Well I couldn’t chase after ‘em both, now could I?”
Rolf towered over the boy. “Who was with you?”
Instead of answering his question, he tried to spit at him. Immaturity got him no further than choking on his own saliva, but by Odin, the boy had guts. Those who had gathered around joined Einar in the joke. When the laughter had died down, he said, “The other one was bigger, but not as fast.”
It took all his strength to swallow the growl that rose in his throat. He glared down at Wulf, wanting nothing so much as to wallop him for his headstrong bloodline. He peered into the trees beyond the village. Where was she going? Would she come back to save her brother?
She would ruin his plan if she got to Axning and passed warning to Eadwald. “Bind him.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”