“What are you playing at, imp? You will do as you’re told or the flesh of your sweet, round backside shall pay the price.”
Kadlin’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She stood still even as the cream gathered between her nether lips. Bjorn stepped in front of her and yanked the belt from her waist. The pouch fell to the earth with a thud. She didn’t comply even as he pulled her tunic over her head, tossed it aside, then yanked down her trousers, letting the fabric fall in a pool around her ankles.
He stood back again.
“Step free of the cloth,” he demanded.
She stood naked and unmoving as a stone, setting her jaw in defiance.
He stormed back to her, bent her at the waist and pushed her under his left arm, pinning her to his side. Her buttocks jutted outward, and her thighs were slippery with her juices. He held her that way for a long moment before his palm came down hard. The sting radiated down to her wet mound. Three more times he spanked her tender flesh, moving closer to her throbbing center with each stroke.
“Enough?” he asked, and she heard the passion in his voice.
“More!” she pleaded.
“When I’ve finished with you, imp, you’ll beg me to stop,” he hissed.
Her sex was sodden and quivering as he delivered three more blows. When she thought she couldn’t bear another, he flattened his palm on her burning skin and petted her punished flesh. She clung to his muscular thigh as he stroked ever closer to her pulsing divide.
Without warning, he plunged his fingers deep inside her, and she stifled her moan against his trousers. She felt her slick opening clamp down against his rough invasion, and she pressed back against his hand, trying to force it deeper. Her pulse quickened, and each breath escaped her as a feral grunt.
As abruptly as he’d begun his assault, he halted. She cried out at the loss. He pulled her upright and jammed his fingers into her mouth. She sucked hungrily at the musky sweetness that covered them.
He pulled away from her.
“Pick up your clothes and spread them out there,” he said, pointing to the seat created by the willow’s divided trunks. Her legs wobbled as she did what she was told. “Sit!” he commanded, and she wriggled up into the wide yoke, wincing as she did.
She reclined against the middle finger of the tree, and he stretched out her arms and laid her palms against each of the outer pillars of bark.
“You will not move unless I allow it,” he whispered in her ear. He kissed her hard, and the moment his tongue met hers, she forgot herself and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stepped back, and she immediately put her hands back in their place, but it was too late.
“You’ve a short memory, imp. I see I shall have to help you.”
She remained motionless as he yanked his dagger from its sheath and cut long lengths of willow boughs. He jammed the blade into the bark then made quick work of tying her wrists to the outer trunks. She squirmed against the bonds, and a ball of fear and excitement gathered in the pit of her belly.
He appraised his work, and her nipples puckered as his hungry gaze swept over her.
“Now these,” he mused, roughly squeezing her inner thighs.
Bjorn slid off his tunic and his vest. He made slings of willow ropes, looping them under her knees and padding them with his garments. He tied the free ends of her bonds to the tree, spreading her legs wide. She felt the nectar drip from her exposed nether lips. It flowed freely as she watched him pull off his boots and trousers.
He stood before her, and her eyes were fixed on his engorged shaft. She licked her dry lips. He held up a wineskin and shot sweet mead into her parched mouth. He let some dribbled down her chin, throat and chest, and her nipples plumped as the honeyed wine flowed over them. He tilted the bag and filled her navel then positioned the spout lower and squeezed the wineskin forcing out a jet of sweet liquid onto her cresting pearl. Kadlin pressed her head back into the tree trunk and moaned.
The Viking tossed aside the skin and leaned in to kiss her. “Mm, these lips are so sweet I can’t wait to taste the others.” When his hardness grazed her thighs, she struggled to move forward, but her bonds restricted her. He must have felt her squirm because he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “So impatient, imp. You will have my shaft. And you will have my mouth and my hands. I will wring every last drop of pleasure from your succulent body until you beg me for rest. When I ride off tomorrow, I will be your sun and your moon, and you will crave no man but me.”
Kadlin wanted to tell him that that was already true, but before she could speak, he dropped his head to her chest and sucked a mead-soaked nipple between his hot lips. His fingers worked the other breast, and she whimpered with need. He licked a path down her chest then slurped the wine from her navel before continuing downward. While his breath ruffled her curls, his fingers fluttered between her thighs.
A jolt of pleasure coursed through Kadlin’s body when Bjorn pulled one of her secret lips into his mouth. He drew hard on it, and the sensation traveled into her most tender place. When she cried out, Bjorn pushed his fingers inside of her and moved his tongue to the engorged button. He sucked and teased the pulsing bundle while stretching her open. A wave of ecstasy crashed over her, and she cried out under the canopy of leaves. She shuddered and tried to bring her legs together, but they were bound tight. Bjorn was merciless. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down her face as he continued to manipulate the aching flesh.
“Please, Bjorn! Please!” she begged, not certain if she was pleading with him to stop or carry on. Her words dissolved into unintelligible noises as the next wave built. The only movement allowed her was the twisting of her head, and she shook it wildly as she pressed back into the middle trunk. At the peak of her pleasure, he reached up with his free hand and pinched hard at her nipple. A scream of exquisite desire filled the clearing, and her quivering wet walls clamped down around his fingers. He kept his lips pressed between her legs until the spasms that racked her body subsided.
Bjorn stood and snatched up the wineskin. He held it to Kadlin’s lips, and she gulped until her thirst was slaked. He checked the bindings at her wrists and ankles. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head, and he kissed her tenderly while he massaged the taut muscles of her arms and legs. The loving touch was like a magic balm, and she closed her eyes as her tension unwound. His lips brushed lightly over her face, and he moved his hands to her breasts. The moment her nipples hardened beneath his palms, she felt his kisses grow harder.
When he was at her ear, he whispered, “You will crave only me.”
Her eyes flew open, and he sucked hard at her neck. She was amazed to feel her desire flare anew. He stretched her wide with his fingers and teased her tingling nub with his thumb. He pulled his mouth from her neck and stared at her, his hands still playing between her legs. As she neared another peak, she realized that he meant to watch her squirm, and she squeezed her eyes shut and turn away.
“Open your eyes!” he demanded. “I will watch you quake, and you will watch me make you quake.”
“Bjorn, please,” she whispered.
“You will not be ashamed with me, ever. Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did, and the greedy lust on his face consumed her. Hot cream dripped from her, and she heard the slurping of his fingers plunging in and out. She struggled to keep her gaze fixed on him as the waves of sensation overtook her.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she cried, her slick channel clamping down on his hand.
Kadlin’s breath hitched as though she’d been sobbing. Her sex felt puffy and tender.
“Must I stop?” he asked. He pulled his fingers from her body and rubbed her wetness over his erection. He grasped the rod at its base and slid the tip up and down over her glistening curls. He concentrated the movements over her slick jewel, and she rolled her head from side to side.
When he pressed against her opening, she didn’t think her swollen flesh could accept him. Pinching hard at both of
her nipples, he pushed slowly into her. Her raw inner walls measured every inch of him until he was buried to the hilt. She watched his beautiful face contort with concentration as his thrusts quickened.
Her arms ached and her legs began to cramp.
“Please release me, Bjorn.”
He remained inside her while he reached up, yanked his dagger from the tree and cut free her bonds. He stuck the blade back into the bark, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. She was desperate to touch and taste his skin, and she groped at him, covering him with kisses even as he continued to thrust. They found their release together, and her face was wet with tears when she declared that he was her sun and her moon and she would always be his alone.
Chapter Four
The Viking had been gone for a fortnight, and every idle moment found Kadlin missing him more. During the day, Grima had kept her busy tending the goats and chickens and weeding the garden. Kadlin had learned the name and purpose of most of the herbs that hung drying in the shed behind the cottage—aniseed for coughs, feverfew to ease the sting of insect bites and borage for melancholy. The old woman had explained which plants could be used to dye cloth and how to achieve the most vibrant colors. Kadlin’s hands and mind were occupied when the sun was shining, but when darkness fell, her longing became a crushing weight.
Each evening after supper, the two women would sit quietly on a bench in the yard. Grima would smoke her pipe, and the sweet smell of the smoldering herbs calmed Kadlin.
On the fifteenth night of her stay at the cottage, Kadlin kicked off her slippers and dug her toes into the cool dirt.
“I wonder if he’s sailed yet,” she mused.
Grima blew out a stream of smoke and looked to the heavens. “The moon is waxing. They’ll set sail when it is full in three, maybe four days.”
Kadlin traced lines in the soil with her toe and tried to conjure up Bjorn’s handsome face.
The old woman stood suddenly. “Go pull the cloths from the drying line, girl. A storm is coming.”
Kadlin looked up at the stars glinting in the cloudless sky. “But the night is clear,” she said.
A moment, later a loud crack of thunder sounded in the west.
* * * *
The storm howled outside, and Grima pulled a glowing twig from the hearth to light the oil lamps. By the dim light, she and Kadlin worked together to fold the long strips of dyed cloth.
When they’d finished, Grima passed the neat stack to Kadlin. “Put these in the basket behind my loom.”
Kadlin carried the fabric to the back corner of cottage and placed it in a huge basket. She ran her fingers over the tight weave, and when she realized it had been fashioned from willow, she remembered her time with Bjorn under the tree, and a tingle gathered between her legs. She closed her eyes and wished she could feel his touch again.
A thunderclap shook the cottage and jarred Kadlin from her reverie. When she opened her eyes, she noticed something glinting on a small shelf above the basket. She reached out and touched the cold, smooth surface of a small bowl. She lifted it and was surprised by the weight. It was as slick and shiny as glass, but as heavy as stone.
“It’s a scrying bowl,” Grima whispered in her ear. Kadlin jumped and the vessel fell from her hand. The old woman caught it before it hit the floor.
The knot of energy that had spun between Kadlin’s thighs now settled with a sickening twist in her abdomen. “Are you a seer, Grima?”
The old woman turned without answering and carried the bowl to the center of the cottage. She placed it on the worn table and settled on the bench. “Fetch me the water pitcher and a lamp, girl.”
Kadlin placed the items in front of Grima and sat down on the opposite bench. Grima tipped the pitcher and filled the bowl. She moved the lamp so it cast a pool of light over the surface of the water. “What would you know, girl?”
Kadlin wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”
Grima stared at her. “The bowl would not have found you if you didn’t harbor a question.”
Kadlin looked down at the scarred tabletop, afraid to voice what was in her heart. After a long pause, Grima cleared her throat, and Kadlin whispered her thought. “When will he return to me?”
“Have you anything from your man?”
Kadlin found the long braid that hung above her ear, pulled the amber glass bead from the end and passed it to the old woman. Grima closed it in her fist, shut her eyes and breathed deeply before dropping the bead into the water and placing her palms flat on the table. She bowed over the scrying bowl and sat motionless, staring into the reflective surface.
The storm raged outside, and the air in the cottage seemed charged as if lightning had struck nearby. The hair on the back of Kadlin’s neck rose, her scalp prickled and her limbs felt heavy as lead. Fear bubbled up from deep inside her chest, and she wanted to tell the old witch to stop, that she didn’t want to know what the future held.
Before she could form the words, Grima looked up from her divination tool. Something in her gaze was not right. She seemed to look right through Kadlin.
“If he sails under the jarl’s crest, he will never return.”
* * * *
Dawn revealed bits of roof thatch littering the muddy dooryard. The pony twitched his ears while the women outfitted him with enough supplies for the two-day ride. Grima laid a bony hand on Kadlin’s shoulder. “Keep north, and you will come to the red rune stone by nightfall. Camp there tonight, and at dawn, ride east. You should reach the village before tomorrow’s sunset.”
Kadlin nodded.
The witch dug into her purse and pulled out a small pouch on a long leather thong. She tied it around Kadlin’s neck. “This will help Odin find you so he can watch over your travels and keep you safe. And if that doesn’t work…” Grima disappeared around the side of the cottage and returned with a yard-long pole with a square of deer hide lashed to one end. The old woman untied the cover to reveal a double-sided axe. “If the amulet doesn’t work, this will.”
Kadlin turned the blades in the early morning sun. It was etched with scrollwork like she’d never seen.
“It was from an Eastern traveler,” Grima explained. “He was my lover until he turned into a brute and beat me.”
Kadlin knew the shock must have shown on her face. “If he was such a brute, why did he leave you with this beautiful gift?”
Grima shrugged her narrow shoulders. “He didn’t put up much of an argument once I’d lopped his head off with it.” A wicked giggle filled the yard, and Kadlin realized it was the first time she’d heard the old woman laugh.
“Now mind the blade, girl. It’s still plenty sharp.” Grima replaced the cover and slid the long handle under the saddle straps. Kadlin swung smoothly onto the pony’s back and smiled at her benefactor. “Thank you, Grima.”
“And what will you do when you come to the end of this mad journey?”
That very question had kept Kadlin awake all night. She looked at the kind old witch and blinked back her tears. “I will win Bjorn’s life by paying the jarl his due.”
* * * *
The sun dipped below the tree line over Kadlin’s left shoulder, covering the narrow trail in black shadows. It would be dark soon, and she’d seen no sign of the red rune stone that would signal the next leg of her journey.
The woods seemed to close in on her, and she worried that she had ridden past marker. She was not even sure that she was on the right path. At times, it had been so overgrown that it seemed to disappear entirely. In the worst spots, sharp branches tugged at her trousers and tall ferns brushed the pony’s belly. Soon, she would not be able to see well enough to go forward, and yet, she couldn’t spend the night in the dense forest. There was no place to lie down, let alone start a fire.
As the darkness gathered, she strained to detect movement in the foliage at her sides. Every rustling leaf and snapping twig sent a jolt of fear up her spine.
A loud crash to her right caused every muscle
in Kadlin’s body to tense. Her pony must have felt her reaction because he stopped short. Something very large moved through the underbrush.
Kadlin felt frozen. She forced herself to move and reached down to grab the axe. She tugged at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The noises grew louder, and she thought she would faint from the fright. She tugged again at the axe handle, and it finally slid from the straps. She trembled, and her fingers couldn’t make purchase on the leather cover. She jerked her head from side to side, trying to find an escape route. There was nowhere to turn, and so she sat still and waited for her fate. She cringed, drawing her shoulders inward and squinting in the direction of the noise. She waited for the bear or wolf or whatever slobbering beast that would fly onto the trail and rip out her life.
When the huge white stag stepped onto the path, Kadlin could not comprehend what she saw. The animal regarded her for a moment then turned and walked away. His snowy hide shone in even the waning light.
She slid the axe handle back into place and urged the pony forward. The stag stayed a few paces in front of them, and Kadlin gratefully followed him like a beacon. Surely, this was Freya, come to show her the way again.
It was almost full dark when a glow of dusky light shone through the buck’s antlers. Kadlin cried out in relief. The stag bounded off the trail, back into the forest a moment before her pony stepped into the wide clearing. At the center of the space was a huge red stone, taller than a man, and she could just make out the sharp angles of the runes in the setting sun.
Kadlin dismounted, unburdened her pony and tied him to the edge of the clearing where he immediately bent his head to eat the tender grass. She set her gear in the shadow of the monument and quickly made a small fire. She drank from her wineskin and had a meager dinner of tough, dried venison. Before closing her eyes for the night, she added another log to the fire to keep away the predators. The long, fearful ride had drained her body and fatigued her mind. She was fast asleep as soon as she laid down her head.
Delivering Kadlin Page 4