Jarl climbed out of the boat, bumping forearms with Bojan and inclining his head in Aryan’s direction.
“So what do you think of our haul?” he asked.
“An exotic supply indeed,” Bojan replied. “I can only hope The Divine sees fit to bless me again.”
“Ah, yes, I recall. That was unfortunate indeed.”
Together they hauled the boat up onto the shingled shore.
Aryan turned away as they drove the women onto land like cattle, pushing them down if they tried to run. He found it uncomfortable to watch, the sounds uncomfortable to listen to. These poor females, corrupted by the outside world—they didn’t even realize that their capture was their salvation. But soon, once they had been blessed by The Divine, they would finally be at peace, cleansed and free to join Borean society.
At first Gunhild and Harlow’s Hands were reluctant to leave for The City, wanting to make camp by the coast and sleep for a few hours. But Aryan was firm, and tales of the unnatural blizzard and ice wraith attack were enough to get the group moving.
The haul consisted of seven females and four crates of exotic food, herbs, and artifacts. The females were bound together in a train, their frail bodies quaking with chill even under the furs they’d been given. The female with sunshine eyes whispered words in a strange tongue, the tone comforting and encouraging. The other women seemed to look upon her for guidance and support. She was a natural leader, it seemed. He wondered who would be deemed worthy of this gem. For the first time since being bound to Mia, he wished he was free. Guilt struck quick and sharp, staining his high cheeks and twisting his gut. The Divine had paired him with Mia, any thoughts otherwise were sacrilegious.
Kemp and Darius’s Hands prepared to board the ship, loading their supplies onto the longboats. Aryan watched, arms crossed over his chest, eager to head back to the city. Darius locked gazes with him for a long moment. A shadow crossed his face, and then he was ambling over. He jerked his head to one side ushering Aryan away from the group.
“Darius?”
Darius cleared his throat. “Listen, I understand that your faith is strong, stronger than some of the other warriors, and I like you, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice. On your return to The City, you may see things that challenge your beliefs, but remember that you are sorely outnumbered. The outside world strips us of our control, and Harlow and Gunhild’s men will not be themselves until they have been cleansed.”
Aryan stared at him, uncomprehending. What could possibly happen that would challenge him in such a way?
Darius cocked his head narrowing his eyes. “I wish I had your unquestioning conviction.” He cocked his arm and Aryan met it with his own. “May we meet again.”
“May we meet again.”
Aryan watched the longboats shrink into the distance, and the warriors board the discovery ship. Their journey was already mapped for them, pressed in ink into a sealed scroll and only to be opened once they were at sea.
The City called to him. He turned his back on the water.
The first stretch of the journey passed uneventfully. Gunhild and Harlow’s warriors were euphoric to be on land. Their haggard faces were suddenly animated, but as the first day of travel drew to a close, their mood shifted from elated to subdued and their pace slackened.
He understood that they were tired. They had been at sea for weeks, on unfamiliar land in unfamiliar territory, all in the name of The Divine. But the adventure was now over, and upon their return The City would swallow them up into anonymity. The rotations would begin and the daily grind, which to Aryan was so appealing, was something to dread for these tainted warriors. All this would fade upon cleansing, but at this moment, he empathized with their conflicted hearts.
Bojan and Cadoc had taken the lead, while Fen and Earl brought up the rear. Aryan hovered somewhere in between. He told himself it was so that he could easily converse with Gunhild and Harlow if needed, but the reality was something that he refused to acknowledge. The reality was burning eyes that seared him with their wrath. The reality was a delicate face set in firm lines that could cut steel. His palm itched to cup that face and to watch that wrath morph to desire.
They reached the cave later than anticipated, and wary of a further ice wraith attack, Aryan posted guards at its mouth.
A blanket tent was set up, and the women herded into it with a guard posted outside. Aryan worked on building a fire with the limited wood they had left in the cave storage. Someone would need to restock soon. He made a note to report to Marduk, the enforcer.
As he poured blue fluid onto the wood and set it alight, Cadoc joined him, his eyes shifty.
He spoke low so as not to be overheard. “Something’s not right, Chief.”
A shiver scaled his spine. “What do you mean?”
“I heard some of Harlow’s men talking. They don’t sound right. I think . . . I think they plan on having the women tonight.”
“What?” Aryan almost dropped the stick he was using to stoke the flames.
Cadoc shifted uncomfortably. “I think they’ve had them before. On the ship.”
Heat surged from his toes toward his head; the stick snapped. He made to stand, but Cadoc placed a hand on his arm.
“We need to tread carefully on this one,” he said. “Reason with them.”
Darius’s warning came to mind. Was this what he had been insinuating might happen? Had it happened to him? Had Darius been a participator? Forcing yourself on a female was not the Borean way. Violation was not permitted, and despite Darius’s warning, Aryan could not stand by and allow it to occur on his watch.
The warriors were moving about, some putting up the lattice frames that would make up their tents, some moving toward the fire, but a small group loitered outside the female tent—Jarl, Miles, Jun and Lothar. Gunhild ambled over to join them, his face solemn. Lothar jerked his head toward the tent. Gunhild sighed before nodding. The chief turned and ambled toward the fire joining Aryan.
Aryan kept his gaze fixed on the tent, his hands balling into fists as Lothar ducked inside the females’ tent. The women’s screams filled the air. Lothar reappeared, his large hand clamped around a red-haired female’s arm. Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t fight. For the first time Aryan noted the bruise on the side of her face. Lothar pulled her along, pushing her into his tent before slipping in after her.
“Make him stop,” Aryan said.
Gunhild looked up in surprise. “Who?”
“Your warrior, Lothar. Make him stop, or I will.”
Gunhild’s eyes darkened. “My men have fought hard for these treasures, and they deserve to enjoy them. It’s a just reward for their efforts.”
Aryan stared at him incredulous. “Are you really trying to justify the violation of females?”
Gunhild leaned forward. “I don’t have to justify anything to you, boy. These females are tainted. They do not matter, not until they have been cleansed.”
Aryan was at a loss for words, floundering as his mind attempted to wrap itself around Gunhild’s twisted logic.
“This is wrong.” Cadoc spoke. “These females are to be given as life-mates to your warrior brothers. You’re duty is to protect them.”
Gunhild’s lip curled cruelly. “How is your life-mate, Cadoc? I remember she was one of our finds. A favorite of mine. I had hoped she would have been gifted to me.”
Cadoc tensed.
Gunhild leaned forward, his voice lethal soft. “When is you first born due?”
Cadoc lashed out, catching the chief high on his cheek. Gunhild fell back clutching his face.
Aryan was on his feet, shocked by Cadoc’s loss of control. The warrior was usually the voice of reason. He planted himself between the warriors expecting a fight, but Gunhild simply threw back his head and laughed. “You have no idea, do you? None whatsoever, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do.”
He pulled himself to his feet, the shadows around him shifting as his and Harlow’s men f
lanked him.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he said again.
Aryan considered the odds, knew they weren’t in his favor. Aside from being outnumbered, his Hand was also out skilled. These men were seasoned warriors. Their blades had kissed human skin, tasted human blood. If Aryan fought he may as well be slitting his warriors’ throats himself.
He could feel Cadoc’s eyes on him, waiting for a call to action. Aryan allowed the tension to leave his body.
“Frack!” Cadoc spun on his heel and strode toward the exit.
Gunhild smiled. “You made the right decision.”
Behind him the men began to argue among themselves. Aryan tried to block out their words, their banter, their comradeship, as they agreed on who would take which woman and in what order. Then he heard the phrase “tiger eyes.” He wasn’t sure what a tiger was but knew instinctively that it was her they were talking about. He couldn’t save them all, but he could save her.
“Wait!”
Gunhild’s head whipped up his brows snapping together. The ferocity in his eyes clawed at Aryan’s throat.
Aryan swallowed, holding up his hands. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but in exchange I want the one with the . . . tiger eyes.”
Gunhild’s frown cleared, the danger bleeding out of his face. “Well, well. The pious Aryan succumbs to the call of his shaft.”
Aryan kept his peace, allowing the warrior to make his decision.
“Fine. You can have her first.”
“No. I don’t think you understand. I don’t want anyone else to touch her.”
Gunhild’s brows shot up. “You ask too much.”
“It’s a fair price for my Hands’ silence. A fair price to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
“Pah, your Hand would be slain quickly.”
Aryan allowed his lips to curve in a confident smile. “Not so quick that we wouldn’t take several of your men with us.”
Gunhild pressed his lips together.
“Come on, Chief, you can’t seriously be considering this,” Jarl said. “We could take them with our arms bound.”
Aryan sat back. “Maybe if you were well rested, maybe if you’re feet had been planted on solid earth for the last few weeks. But you’re weary, and your bodies have grown weak from lack of training.”
Jarl opened his mouth to retaliate, but Gunhild held up a hand. “No one touches Tiger Eyes!”
“Frack!” Jarl cursed.
“Crud! She’s a fighter.” Miles held up a forearm showcasing a set of neat teeth marks. “You see that? She bit me.”
A fighter. Yes. Aryan had seen it in her eyes. It was what had drawn him to her, what compelled him to protect her.
“Well go on then. Have your fill.” Gunhild slapped him on the back, his demeanor shifting, as if they were old friends. It made Aryan’s skin crawl, but he didn’t flinch. Darius had been right. These men were not themselves.
Bojan joined the group just in time to catch the tail end of the bargain. His lips twisted in distain. He glanced away as if unable to look at Aryan. There was no time to explain himself to his Hand. That conversation would happen later, for now they would have to believe the worst.
He entered the female’s tent, Bojan’s eyes hot black rocks on his back.
There were three females left. Two were dark haired, one with pale skin, the other ebony, but he had eyes only for her.
She looked up at him, her lip curling in contempt. She spat words at him, sharp and fast like daggers. The tent flap opened and Miles slipped in. He looked from the dark-skinned beauty to the pale one, undecided. The pale one cowered but the dark-skinned female lifted her chin in defiance. Mile’s grinned and reached for her.
She went quietly enough, but there was no resignation in her eyes.
Aryan swallowed his nausea.
Pale skin was taken a moment later, kicking and screaming by Jarl, and Aryan was finally alone with Tiger Eyes.
She glared at him as if daring him to approach.
He held up his hands, dropping his voice to a low rumble so as not to be overheard by the others. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She narrowed her eyes warily.
Did she understand? “I’m trying to protect you.”
She hawked and spat at him.
Obviously not.
The gob of spittle hit the furs on his chest. He sighed, lowering his huge body to the ground a few feet away from her.
She tensed.
The flaps of the tent opened and Gunhild’s head appeared. He looked from Aryan to the female, his lips pinching. “What you waiting for, boy? An invitation? If you’re not going to take her, then I have a line of men who will.”
Aryan grit his teeth keeping his eyes fixed on the female. “I prefer to do this without an audience, and I prefer to do it my way.”
Gunhild snorted. “Have it your way but have it.” He chuckled. “Take your time; fuck her slow if you want, but fuck her. My men aren’t pleased. That’s the best of the cunny you got there, sweet like honey and tighter than a drum, so I want to hear fucking, or the deal’s off.” He retreated from the tent, leaving Aryan with a dilemma.
The female stared at him with open curiosity. The derision had been replaced by reluctant comprehension. Maybe she did understand him after all.
“Listen, I have to make this convincing. I need to lay with you. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
The razor features softened, giving him a glimpse of the vulnerable beauty beneath. She licked her lips, her eyes on the ground, pupils flitting side to side as she processed.
Finally she lifted her chin, nodding sharply. Still he hesitated, not sure he had read her right. She said something in her strange tongue, softer now with resignation, and lifted the furs inviting him in.
Lying beside her was torture. Her body was long, lithe, and powerful, but undeniably feminine. She had removed her furs and tunic, leaving only her breast bindings. Her legs were still encased in the leather britches the warriors had provided, and in order to take his mind from his arousal he wondered what her native attire had been. A rustle outside the tent alerted him to the fact that he was being listened to.
He was at a loss as to what to do to convince the listener that he was indeed fucking. He looked down at the female to find her gazing up at him intently. Then he gasped in shock as her hand cupped his arousal.
“What? What are you . . . argh, frack!” His eyes rolled back in his head as she began to massage his shaft.
It wasn’t long before the tent was filled with his gasps and moans. She added her breathy sighs and guttural moans to his, serving only to arouse him further until he unloaded his seed all over her hand.
He lay back, chest rising and falling with uneven breath. He had never experienced such a thing. This was a new delight, one she would be cleansed of. For the first time, he wondered about all the delights that may have been lost through the cleansing. What other new and exciting things had the females they had captured known before they had been cleansed?
The female shifted, sat up and wiped her hand against the furs. Her tiger eyes were strangely empty.
He wanted to say something to bring back the fire, but the words eluded him.
She turned her back on him, her shoulders shaking. He wanted to comfort her, to explain how the sadness, the memories of her tainted life, would all be wiped clean, that she would be prized, loved, and protected, but mere words seemed inadequate. Instead he wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him. She tensed, her whole body quaking, but he remained still. Long moments passed in which he waited patiently. Finally he felt her shoulders relax, and then inch by inch, the rest of her body turned to water. She sighed, her breath evening out. Aryan exhaled and closed his eyes.
He dozed for a while, his mind ever alert so when she shifted against him, turning to face him, he was instantly awake, instantly aroused.
He exhaled slowly, willing his shaft to soften, but it remained stubbornly erect.
A l
ow chuckle vibrated against his collarbone. He glanced down in surprise to see her smiling shyly up at him.
She spoke to him softly, words he didn’t comprehend. He shook his head to indicate as such, but she simply placed a finger to his lips. He resisted the urged to take it in his mouth. Her eyes darkened as if she had read his thoughts, and in the next moment she had replaced her finger with her mouth.
He gasped and she slipped her tongue in, exploring, tasting. He let her have her way, afraid that if he moved he would explode, afraid that she would stop.
Her hands stroked his jaw, and then slowly she pulled back looking deep into his eyes. This time when she spoke he understood the sentiment.
Thank you.
She had said thank you.
FOUR
His warriors alternated between avoiding his gaze and glaring at him in disapproval. There was no time to explain his decision to them, not without entertaining the risk of one of the other Hands overhearing and reporting back to Gunhild, so he suffered their derision in silence. The remainder of the journey passed with Gunhild and Harlow’s Hands in good spirits as they approached The City.
Aryan kept his distance from the men, hovering in the center of the train, his eyes frequently snagging on Tiger Eyes. He wished that he could know her true name, now, before she was irrevocably changed. He immediately chided himself for the blasphemous thoughts. Of course he could wait. Once she was one of them, once she was given to a warrior as life-mate, they would all know her name. His chest tightened, hands balling into fists. Someone else would have her, and this time she would part her thighs willingly.
Footsteps approached and he tensed.
“Chief.” Fen drew abreast of him. “Why?”
Aryan didn’t need any elaboration. He glanced about, but no one seemed to be listening. “I didn’t violate her, I saved her. I just wish I could have saved them all.”
Fen exhaled in relief. “I knew there would be a reason.” They trudged in silence for a while. “We could have fought.”
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