by Zoe Blake
Jerrik granted me my wish as he removed the rest of his clothing and then straddled my neck so his cock rested in front of my face. Moving fast, I sucked him deeply into my mouth, running my tongue along the tip, luxuriating in the heady taste of him. I wanted more.
I raked my nails down his chest and pulled him into my throat until he bottomed out, delightfully gagging me with his size. Still, I tried to take more, until I gagged again, and my mouth salivated. My lips spread wide, he was too big. I’d never get enough of him. His smell and taste were like a poisoned tonic killing the purity I had, once upon a time. The heat of his body, the comfort of his solidity, a balm to an existence that had become fraught, rocky, and confusing.
Jerrik stood at the center of my story, rigid and impregnable. Constant. Reliable.
I moaned around his hard flesh, anxious for the flavor of his release. He groaned when I palmed his sack, squeezing gently.
He thrust against my throat, his hips working, pushing deeper.
“Jerrik.” I tried to say his name as he deserved, but it came out muffled. He didn’t care, and neither did I.
His fingers dug into my scalp as he pulled my face tighter against his groin, and speech was impossible, so I just hummed around him.
The pre-cum of his desire coated my tongue, thick, heavy, and sweet. I moaned as the serum’s aphrodisiac worked through my body, setting nerves tingling. I swallowed him down, sucking until he would have no choice but to release fully into the back of my throat, but he resisted.
“No, I want to fill your cunt with my seed.”
Frantically, he lowered himself down and reached for his cock to guide the brutal length of himself between my thighs, pressing past my slick folds, claiming me once again. He raised his hips and slammed back down, pounding into me with everything he had.
One of his hands closed over my breast, fingers strumming my nipple. I groaned as I arched my back, silently begging for more. I wanted him deeper. I wanted to feel his possession so deep that I would truly feel as if we blended as one. I couldn’t get enough of him. It was as if my body was starved and it was Jerrik who gave me life.
“Deeper,” I moaned, being so bold as to do so.
He groaned out a wordless answer, deep in his throat and my stomach coiled tight at the rasping sound. Flipping us over, he lay on his back and had me straddle him, riding him like some mythical creature. I bobbed up and down as his eyes watched my breasts bounce. I liked having the power to give him pleasure. I could see it in his green eyes. I could feel it coming from his sun-kissed flesh. I pleased him and that very knowledge brought on a wave of euphoria as a tidal wave came crashing down.
I arched my back and screamed out his name as his cock drove deep inside. Over and over again. Jerrik. Jerrik. Jerrik.
He grabbed me with a rough hand to the neck, pulling my face down. He sucked at my tongue, swallowing my orgasmic groans. I bit his lip, tasting his blood and bucked my hips, milking the last wave of my release.
I reared up, gasping, reveling in the big cock that slammed deep inside of me with every thrust of his hips. Jerrik looked wild, the thick muscles of his abdomen and chest rippling, his hair curling around his ears.
I dug my fingers into his chest and he groaned again. My thighs burned. I didn’t care. None of it mattered. All that mattered was giving this huntsman the pleasure I so desperately wanted to give him.
I leaned back, resting my hands on his corded, muscled thighs so I could get a better angle. His eyes burned into me, dark and probing, hard and hot, as if he saw into my soul. Every time he looked at me, I felt our bond grow stronger and stronger.
The orgasm coiled tight within me again, drawing close.
He slipped a hand down to stroke my clit, and I allowed him to throw me over the edge as he thrust his final release into me with a deep growl. I screamed as a flood of light knocked the wind out of me. Wave after wave of heat coursed through my veins as Jerrik pumped his seed inside of me.
After several breathless moments, Jerrik stood up and pulled on his pants.
“No, please.” I still didn’t want him to leave me. “Not yet. Not tonight.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said softly with a smile. “Wait right here.”
I sat on his bed, hearing the deep voices in heated discussion below. I considered getting dressed in one of Jerrik’s shirts and making my way downstairs to join them, but Jerrik had told me to remain in the room, and I really didn’t want to test his tender heart. I knew he had the capability of being just as strict and unyielding as the others.
Just as I was getting antsy enough to risk discipline by Jerrik’s hand, he walked into the room carrying a pail of water that had been heated by the fire downstairs while I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to return. He had kept his tunic off since our intimacy, revealing his tan skin and his muscled arms. With each move, I noticed how lean his body was which surprised me. He wasn’t as large in frame as the other huntsmen. I hadn’t paid attention before to how handsome he truly was. His brown hair hung in a soft wave around his ears with just a hint of gray at his temples. His distinguished look added to a masculinity that fascinated me. His caring nature made me feel safe and protected.
He soaked a rag in the water and ran it along my bare thigh. “Is the water too hot?” he asked, worried.
“It’s perfect. Simply perfect.” I closed my eyes, savoring how the heat removed all the tension in my body. “Thank you.”
He moved up my leg with a bar of soap and began lathering it into his palm, his fingers massaging every inch of my legs. Heaven. Pure Heaven. I thought about stopping him and doing it myself, but just couldn’t bring myself to do so. It felt so good… so good.
He began washing between my legs, my belly, my breasts, and my arms, dipping the rag into the soapy water with each pass.
“Thank you,” I said. “You really don’t have to be so kind.”
He paused in washing me, holding his hand still in the sudsy water. “You do know we will never allow her or anyone to harm you? Right?”
I nodded, knowing that he meant the words, but still not fully convinced that they all truly had the power to protect me from my demons, and from the ultimate predator—the queen.
He stood up and walked over to grab a shirt of his. He held it out for me to step into, but turned his head to not watch as I did so. I had to smile at the chivalrous act of affording me privacy. After all, he’d not only fucked me, he’d washed me intimately. Once I had the shirt on, I thanked him.
“Let’s get you back in bed before you catch a chill.” When he had me tucked in nice and tight, he turned to gather the pail of water.
“Jerrik? Please don’t leave. I know you want to join the others, but at least stay with me until I fall asleep.” Maybe it was asking too much, but I didn’t want to stare at the ceiling for the remainder of the night in worry.
He paused for a moment as if considering the idea. He nodded with a smile and pulled up a nearby wooden chair so it rested beside the bed and sat down. “All right. I’ll stay until you sleep. Sweet dreams, Snow. Your nightmares will soon be washed away.”
Thirteen
The midday sun dipped behind the clouds, chilling the air with its shadow. I sat on a wooden bench in front of the cabin with a fur wrapped tightly around my shoulders. A gentle breeze blew my hair into my face. Blackbirds cawed in the sky—their fragile wings carried them through the air above the trees with ease. The yard was quiet, peaceful, and serene. It reminded me of the palace from my childhood. A life I wasn't sure I would ever live again. I found it odd that, sitting here now was truly the first time I had just sat and taken in my outside surroundings. My life had been in such chaos…but now, things seemed calmer. More at peace. The huntsmen in all their torrential energy had somehow calmed me.
The closing of the door behind my shoulder broke the still energy. "It’s time we teach you how to fight,” Tore said as he walked in front of me, the other huntsmen close behind.
Dagr pulled a bow from behind his back, his coy smile making me nervous. "Are you ready to learn how to shoot it?"
The hair on my arms stood and my stomach churned with the thought of holding a weapon in my hands, let alone shooting it. Weapons and violence were against everything I once believed in. I was not a fighter or a killer. I’d never had the desire to learn how to be either. But so much had changed, and a deep thick blackness had taken hold of my life and was only getting darker. The war had just begun. The queen was coming, and I knew this in my deepest part of my heart.
“I don’t think I have the ability to do this,” I said as I watched Odin and Steen pull out bows of their own. Standing up, I pulled the fur tighter around me as if it were enough to protect me from everything.
"Of course you can, and we’ll teach you. Do you see those trees over there?" Freyr asked, pointing north from where we stood. Ten or twenty yards away, two small pines were spread a few feet apart from one another.
“You think I can fire an arrow that far?” I asked.
He ignored my question, took the bow from Tore, and handed it to me. "Everyone should know how to shoot an arrow. Never depend on someone else for your survival. Never."
I glanced at Jerrik who walked up to stand to my left. “You know the queen is coming,” he said. “We want to make sure you can defend yourself if need be.”
“But I have all of you,” I said, instantly hating the weakness that laced my words as I said them.
“You have us, and I feel that is all you’ll need when it comes down to it,” Magni said, “but we all agreed we need to prepare you for the worst.”
Dagr began explaining his technique, his fingers gliding over the wood, string, and arrowhead, pointing at different parts as he described their function and demonstrated how to stand and release.
“You sure you don’t want one of us teaching her the way to handle a bow, old man?” Tore teased from afar. The other huntsmen laughed.
“Someone who can actually aim and hit a boar, should be the one,” Dagr said with a glare.
“It really should be me teaching Snow since we all know that I am by far the best,” Freyr teased.
Dagr chose to ignore the playful jabs and comments in good humor coming from the other huntsmen as he stood behind me, his hands on my hips as he guided me into position at right angles to the target trees. He nocked an arrow just below the bead, and helped me to draw the string back fully to the anchor point. His arms were around me, distracting me, though I knew I should try to ignore the close proximity and focus on the task at hand. His breath was warm on my neck, and the sinful thoughts flooding through me were making this lesson far harder than he knew.
"Relax. Archery has more in common with art than war. It is a dance between you, your target, and the tools in your hands. Feel the breeze in your hair. Where is it coming from? How will it affect the arrow's flight path? Breathe in; breathe out. Hold your back straight, keep your posture tall, proud, as if you had a crown on your head,” Jerrik said as he stood the closest to Dagr and me, watching closely as if to assure Dagr was indeed doing a good job with the lesson.
His words floated around me, embracing me. Under Dagr’s guidance, I sighted the arrow and relaxed my fingers. The string snapped, striking my skin in a surprising fashion. The arrow flew with only a slight waver, striking the nearer tree at its base.
"Very good," Odin ordered as he walked to the arrow to examine it closer. “Again.”
Dagr stepped back, guiding me to nock the next arrow on my own. His face beamed with pride.
I released five more arrows, before Jerrik and Dagr led me over to view the targets. Arrows stuck out from the base of the trees, having made contact each time.
"You have great aim, lass,” Magni praised. “You’re a natural.”
“We should have her doing the hunting over some of you fools,” Tore said with a chuckle.
I liked pleasing them. "Thank you." I smiled, feeling a real sense of pride.
Freyr’s expression grew serious. “The queen is coming."
“And she wants me dead?” I knew the answer to this, but for some reason I needed to hear one of the huntsmen say it. I needed to hear the harsh words to keep me grounded in reality, to remind me that my life was not a safe little haven guarded by my seven protectors.
“We worried this day would come,” Steen said from behind me. “But we will be ready when it does.”
“That’s enough learning for one day,” Freyr announced, breaking me from my own fearful thoughts. “I’m hungry.”
“I have rabbit stew cooking,” I said proudly. It had taken me all morning to prepare, and though I still struggled in almost every aspect of doing it, I felt as if maybe I had finally gotten a handle on this wretched task called cooking.
Dagr took the bow out of my hands. “Well then, let’s go try this stew of yours,” he said with a small smirk that seemed as if he was in on some secret I was unaware of.
“Oh yes, let’s,” Freyr mumbled, as Steen elbowed him in the ribcage and shot him a warning look.
I’m sure they all expected a meal that was far from a pleasant feast, but I was confident I would surprise them all with my rabbit stew.
As we walked back into the house, the aroma of the stew wasn’t exactly as I had expected it to smell like. In fact, it was the complete opposite. I wasn’t sure what boiled human head smelled like, but if it had an odor, I was sure this rabbit stew would match it in comparison. Cringing as I walked to the boiling pot, I took a ladle and stirred the meat and potatoes around which only made the pungent fragrance emerge all the more intense…and awful.
“Mmm smells delicious,” I heard Tore say from behind me.
His comment seemed odd because I thought the opposite, but maybe the smell of rabbit cooking was an acquired smell I wasn’t used to.
“Well, it appears to be done,” I said. “You can all grab a bowl if you would like.”
“I can’t wait,” Freyr said as he was the first to grab a bowl as he winked at the other men.
Each huntsman followed Freyr and dished the stew into their bowls and sat at the long table looking at each other with wide grins.
“You first, brother,” Steen said to Freyr.
“Oh no, let’s leave that honor for the elder. Dagr can be the first,” Freyr countered.
Dagr looked at me, at the bowl of stew, and then grumbled beneath his breath. “I would love to.”
He shoved a spoonful of rabbit meat into his mouth and slowly chewed, glaring at the other men as he did so.
“Well?” I asked, anxious to hear if I had redeemed my culinary skills. “How is it?”
He nodded and swallowed. “This is truly a meal I shouldn’t experience alone.”
Pride washed over me. I loved that I could provide a meal for these men, and though I may not be a fan of the smell, clearly Dagr was impressed enough to tell each of the men to dig in, which they all did.
“What seasonings did you use?” Tore asked with a full mouth.
“Oh just some herbs I found and some seeds.”
“Mustard seed?” Odin asked as he too swallowed the large mouthful of stew.
“Is that what it was?” I asked with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure but decided to put it in. Is it the seeds that make it so good?”
“Well, the seeds sure do give it bite,” Steen said, stirring the stew around with his spoon, but when he saw me watching him, he was quick to take a spoonful and put it into his mouth.
“I have to confess,” I said. “I was worried if I would ever be able to truly cook for you all. It seemed so daunting at first. But now that I can see how much you all like my stew, I will make it one of our regular meals.”
“Oh good for us,” Freyr said with a smirk which warranted another jab by his brother’s arm I didn’t understand, but brothers would be brothers.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Magni asked.
“Oh, I am not hungry,” I said, yawning as I did so. “I
’m actually a little tired and think I’ll go upstairs to take a nap if you all don’t mind.”
Odin was the first to shoot out of his seat. “I’ll take you,” he announced loudly and with determination.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“But I will. After all you have done for us—cooking this fine meal—it’s the least I can do.”
Before I could protest, Odin surprised me by lifting me into his arms and heading toward the stairs. The sound of the men chuckling had me turning my head to see the men emptying their bowls back into the pot of stew with large smiles and shaking heads. Right before reaching the stairs, Odin reached for a basket of apples and held them beneath me as he continued the ascent to his room. I got a glimpse of him glancing at the other huntsmen as he gave a mischievous wink.
Maybe I should have been offended that it was now quite obvious the huntsmen had, in fact, detested the stew, but the fact that they had all sat down and tried to act as if they were enjoying the rabbit disaster, said a lot for how they valued my feelings. These men truly…cared.
Fourteen
Odin placed the basket of apples on a tree trunk that served as a table by the bed.
“Sit on the bed, Snow.”
I did as I was told. I had been with all the other huntsmen except for Odin. The others had pushed my endurance for both pain and pleasure. I had to admit I was curious to see if Odin, the shyest of them all, would do the same.
I watched as he took out a long, vicious looking knife. After selecting one perfect red apple, he slowly began to cut it in half. The knife sliced through the crisp white pulp of the apple over and over again, methodically cutting it into slices.
Holding the blade of the knife up to my lips, one perfect apple slice clinging to its sharp metal surface, he said, “Take a bite.”
Holding his gaze, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the apple slice, careful to avoid the edge of the blade. The sweet tart flavor made my cheeks and tongue tingle.