Master of Umbra (The Valhalla Series)

by Poppet

  Holy fuck! I'm never walking again. Like fucking ever.

  Withdrawing, I'm yanked forward, my wrists viced, my body lifted right off the bed when he stands with me, swinging me between his legs and flopping me stomach down again.

  My body is objecting to the manhandling but my inner sadist and adrenaline junkie is high on carnal devilry. Crucifixed on the sheet, his hands hold my arms out, his strong fingers buckling my wrists wide apart with such bite I wonder if he's fracturing them, stubble scores my spine again, lacerations and licks turning me into an amoeba of surrender.

  Oh god. His mouth is more wicked than his mind. I need reprieve! I require mercy!

  I'm savored from my ankles to my throbbing labia, him tasting us again, wriggling his satanic tongue over an oversensitive pressure point until I scream into the pillow.

  Riddled with seizures of diabolical cunning, my mind starts to crack.

  The romantic lighting flinches in and out of focus, the fog in my ears rendering me immune to the grunts of a man punishing my uterus with his penis.

  His fingers play the xylophone with my nerve endings while he thunders the storm to my heart, lightning bolts of delirium titillating my pores, the pleasure so intense it makes my skin ripple cold.

  Clawing my fists into the sheets, I force myself up, turning on him while he's still inside me, a battle cry shaking my bones when I punch his head into a backward snap. Diving forward, disengaging, I boost off the pillows, leaping at him, ramming him back with strength I didn't know I had, until he's hard up against the chamber wall, clamping nuts in my hand, their sweat and musk permeates the membranes of my mind, and I am only vaguely aware of the order, “It's my fucking turn!”

  Grabbing ears I pull his face down to my height, biting his lip until blood fills my mouth, turning me inside out while I climb the mountain to ride its peak.

  My vision hazes completely red and my heart engorges with the nefarious delight of teasing, refusing release, needing my own moment to bite and lick, taste and savor, to defile and violate.

  I was no longer sane, and that's the last I remember.

  *

  Ewan:

  The tickle of her tongue behind the boys is the final straw, breaking my bones, enforcing muscular weakness when I cum in her face, turning her hair into a snow globe of white froth.

  It breaks the seizure, slowly allowing me to reclaim my coherence, and I force her back, staring at the bruised and battered beauty on her knees before me.

  She's bleeding, and so far gone she'll never know.

  Rubbing my thumb over swollen lips, her pale skin covered in hickeys and discoloration, I sag against the wall, catching my breath while my muscles twitch in objection, my legs ready to give out.

  Her eyes have the luminescence of transformation, but the wet pink tongue that snakes out between puffy sexy lips to lick my taste off her cheek, fuck girl, do that once more and I might just find the urge to deepthroat you again.

  Her eyelashes are dark, glistening wet with moisture as if she choked recently. I can't remember. Her eyes are so beautiful, it makes me want to suck her eyeballs. It's a bizarre sensation which I've had the pleasure of experiencing, the hot mouth eyeball lick. Everything about the pretty little princess in front of me makes me want to be selfish and keep it all to myself, forever.

  She's like a leggy foal, her complexion so pale as to be snowy, her nipples so starkly bruised and ruddy against the perfect canvas of milky skin, it twitches my dick just to stare at her naked form.

  Using the voice, I insist, “Get up.”

  Please get up, or I'll fuck you dead tonight.

  She does, slowly, as if her tendons have taken a beating. They have, I know they have, the inner expanse of both her thighs deep blue with bruising turning purple.

  “Turn around.”

  My puppet pivots, a tall pallid pillar of luscious. She thinks she's too tall, too large, but if she could see what I see she'd see long slender thighs, a back so graceful as to be willowy, and a waist too small for my hands. Her hips are peachy, their curvature smooth and sleek and begging for a hard hand pressing her to bend over and show daddy the apple of his eye.

  My handprints tattoo her ass.

  Fuck, that had to hurt.

  It's time for damage control.

  Chapter 21

  Heroes tread Hel-way;

  Heaven is cloven.

  ~ Völuspá

  Deliah:

  A foreign vibration pings me awake, it's the subconscious warning of footsteps which are too light. There's a burglar in here and it pegs me upright with alarm pumping.

  Listening with every sense, I locate the stranger, waltzing down the tunnel with one glowing eye, her tread careful.

  “Hello? Ewan?”

  She's got the kind of voice that curls toes and induces raging orgasms, making me instantly suspicious.

  Looking to my right, the bed is vacant of the chieftan, and a quick hand swipe under the covers exposes he's been gone for some time.

  “He's not here,” I answer the woman.

  Coming closer, she gives me a big smile, “Oh sorry, I was just looking for Ewan. I don't know what he's done with Mac.”

  “Who's Mac?” I ask, watching the tall woman stalk my way with the grace of a panther.

  “My handfast, I think of him as a husband. These new terms are still giving me a fucking brain-ache trying to label everything correctly so I make sense instead of speaking modern and normal.”

  I nod, relieved. So she's hitched. Good.

  Walking deeper in, she points to the glowing crystals, “Aw, look at that. You have so many lit love crystals. He must really love you.”

  “What?” I frown.

  What the hell is she talking about?

  Walking to the one next to the bed that Ewan lit for me, she smiles, “My dad left me a bunch of love crystals. Only love can make them glow, and they emit light for as long as that person loves you. Which to these guys is forever and eternity.” Giving me a warm smile, she pries, “Did Ewan light them for you?”

  I nod, her blithe revelation tilting my world into a flat spin. Ewan loved me when he lit them?

  “Explain how they work,” I demand.

  “The person who lights them for you loves you, or it won't work. It's a silent promise, a luminary to light your way home to where the heart is.”

  Holy fuck!

  “I'm Emma,” she says, offering me her hand to shake. “Sorry I woke you, I didn't mean to impose.”

  Arrabella sneaks out from under the covers, staring at the stranger with her 'I adore you' face. And that just narks me.

  “Deliah,” I mumble, shaking her hand.

  “It's nice to find a female face in this labyrinth. I'll see you at breakfast?”

  I nod in answer, exhaling the breath I didn't know I was holding when she strolls out to find Ewan.

  He loves me? When was he planning on telling me that!

  *

  Ewan:

  Watching the coward sit up with his back healed, I can tell he's suffered enough for one night.

  “We need to talk, son.”

  He gives me a pale faced nod, aware that he's my prisoner until I deign to pronounce him otherwise.

  Resting my elbows on my knees, I lean forward to survey the boy. He's stupid, and dangerous because of it. It's time to shock some sense into him.

  “Macala, why do you suppose Wolf desires our clans engage in conflict?”

  He gives me a shrug.

  “Be a fucking man before I lose my temper with you. You're the chieftan's grandson, tell me why you think Wolf wants us at war!”

  He shrinks against his cot, trying to hide his visage in his miasmic shadows. “I wish I knew. It made no sense to me which is why I dared to journey to speak with you directly.”

  “Where are your swords?” I ask. It's an issue which has been bothering me.

  “We left them in a cave, thinking it would be better to meet you unarmed.”

&nbs
p; “You sought to appeal to my merciful nature instead of provoking my ire. Well you fucked that one up, didn't you son?”

  He nods, looking shamefully at his feet.

  “Grow a fucking spine or I'll break yours again. Face me with pride and dignity or get the fuck out of my house!”

  This little bastard is severing my boundaries. He annoys the fuck out of me, and that's saying something considering last night's activities.

  Mac sits up, squaring his shoulders.

  Leaning closer, I point a finger in his face, “I'll tell you why. She's a Thur, she's Skadi's kindred. Need I remind you of their legacy?”

  He gives me the clueless stare of the gormless.

  Odin fucking help me, he doesn't need his brain, allow me to alleviate him of the burden by smashing that stupid skull in.

  Standing to walk off the desire to choke the intestines out of him, I pace, rage building, “Macala, for fuck's sake you are testing my patience. Skadi loves him! They were lovers. He wants Emma! And one look from him and Emma will be lost to us forever. It's a passion she can't control, he is her true match. If you love your woman you will man up pretty fucking fast! We need to wage war on this cunning bastard before he gets the jump on us.”

  “He wants Emma? She'll never love him,” he announces, with all the confidence of a moron in a sanitarium high on his meds and having fake visitations of divine insight.

  That does it.

  Stepping forward I slam my head into his forehead, “Wake up!”

  “What the hell do you want from me? You're the liege with all the fucking answers! You don't need me for this conversation because you're the only one with a damn inflated opinion of his certainty!”

  His left eye flares to life and I finally glimpse the man inside the boy.

  “Listen up, son. You need to gather your warriors. We need to move on his lair before he notices we're onto him and his meddling subterfuge. We need to keep that bastard away from Emma. If she joins his army we're all fucked! You hear me? All of us!”

  “I can't just leave her here–”

  “You can and you will. You aren't prepared to protect her. You don't have the might, the strategy, or the damn experience to keep that woman safe. She's not even safe when alone with you as your despicable track record proves. You gather your army and together as one unit we move on the enemy.”

  Eyes narrow at me, the pillock folding his arms and lurching on his left leg, “And what do you want in return for this 'kindness'?”

  “Our own læraðr trees. They belong to all of us, not just the Raven clan. You do right by me and I'll do right by you.”

  He nods, shuffling fingers through his hair as if worrying his peabrain.

  “I don't have time for your issues, boy. I will get Emma to go with my trusted third to retrieve her sword. Meet me back here at nightfall. We have no time. You hear me? No time! When Wolf makes a move he'll be prepared.”

  “And what are you going to do?” the little prick challenges me.

  “I'm going to call my people. I'm going to raise the draugr and finfolk from finfolkaheem. I'm not stupid and don't take kindly to your insinuation. Come midnight you'll be kissing my arse for protecting yours this thoroughly.”

  “The draugr?” he frowns.

  I'm tempted to slap some sense into this dullard. “The undead! The undead warriors, you fucking imbecile. Maybe you should send your chief in your stead because you alone could start a war. How dare you come to my house and know nothing of my kinfolk! You insult me!” Stepping up to him I bellow, “I am the master of umbra! In my black volcanic house you walk and breathe, in the bones of the underground of my native land you defile the sacrosanct with your ignorance! I am lord of the dead, of the lost, and the night! You are merely a warrior of night, you are not the fucking master of it, son! Show some god damn respect or I'll beat it into you!”

  He looks like he's ready to take a dump in his boxers, so I shove him toward the cage door, bodily shunting him out of his cell, “Run boy! This war is waiting for no one.”

  “But Emma–”

  “Is safe! Get a fucking move on!”

  The wan coward nods, turning and rushing after Alan, being led out of the catacombs to gather his finest.

  If he's anything to go by I doubt they'll be of any use to us in our stealthy attack on Wolf's lair.

  Jesus fucking christ, the inbreeding is clearly turning the harii into eejits.

  Bellowing after him, I howl, “And you'd better bring me my fucking trees, or the deal's off!”

  And we'll keep Emma and you can go fuck yourselves.

  *

  Deliah:

  I've cleaned the kitty litter, had my shower, returned to my own room, all while trying very hard to recall everything that happened last night.

  I don't ache, or limp, or hurt. I have no bruises and I know I should have. I feel robbed of the delightful 'morning after' hobble and twinge.

  Entering the mess hall, I head for my usual spot, waving to Lloyd who beams at me as if royalty is in the house.

  She's nothing special, how come everyone has such a hard-on for this chick? Disgruntled, Adam's enthusiastic wave and pat on the seat he saved for me is enough to smooth my scowl.

  At least someone is happy to see me.

  Sitting down next to him, I'm facing Gunn and Emma, with Alan on my right.

  “Where's Ewan?” I ask Alan, as he usually has all the answers.

  “Seeing the harii off. We move on the bastard tonight.” His smile is so animalistic and dangerous it chills my marrow.

  “What?” I ask, not understanding.

  Gunn's deep voice barrels across the feast table at me, “We take down the Wolf tonight. Macala has left to gather his warriors. Which means you and I have some training to do after breakfast.”

  Oh boy, this must be my lucky day. I get to train with the only man whose biggest pleasure would be to gut me and leave me decomposing on the rocks for the vultures to choke on.

  Emma smiles at me when Lloyd deposits a bowl of porridge in front of me, “You are so lucky you have such a nice chef. Ours is like a drill sergeant.”

  Adam grins goofily at her, “The only drill sergeant around here is the bone man.”

  She frowns at him, and I laugh under my breath, ducking my head to idly slop the oatmeal around the bowl.

  Alan speaks across to her, “He's being a pervert, ignore him.”

  I feel Adam jar when someone kicks him under the table.

  “Oh! Haha. The drill – sergeant. Very funny.”

  Thick much? She should have been blond.

  Looking up when I taste my food, she seems absolutely ignorant of the effect she has on a hall of men. She's like the second coming and it annoys me enough that I'm beginning to look forward to beating on Gunn.

  Adam plants a big apple next to my breakfast bowl, “The chief says you'd better eat this. All of it this time.”

  That's what he said last night, and if memory serves me well I did have all of it, and then some. The chief is hung like a bloody u-boat. How many inches was that exactly?

  Chapter 22

  On his sword shimmers

  the sun of the War-Gods

  ~ Völuspá

  Deliah:

  I'm just pulling on my gym top when I hear footsteps stalk into Ewan's chambers.

  “Ewan? Is that you?”

  “Mmmmhmmm,” reaches faintly to me.

  Dressed for my workout I stomp to my door and shout his way, “Get your fucking backside over here!”

  Three seconds later he appears in his chamber entrance, walking my way with his eyebrows lifted in question, “What is it darling?”

  I point at the space in front of my feet, “Here!”

  His expression hardens, taking offense to being summoned like my lapdog (which he is, let's face it. Nose in crotch mean anything to you?)

  He's now towering in front of me and I blank my mind to catch him off guard, looking up and slapping him one helluva sh
ot across his rugged angles, “That's for leaving me to wake up alone, you inconsiderate prick.”

  He reflexes back, rubbing his jaw, hinging his mandibles experimentally, “I'm glad to see the apple juice is paying dividends. You no longer hit like a girl.”

  “The first time you fuck a girl at least have the courtesy to wake her up with a kiss and a cup of coffee.” I mutter wanker under my breath as I storm off toward the gym.

  He doesn't seem fazed and when I look back he's docilely gone back into his chambers, which bloody reminds me!

  Pegging back, I go stomping back his way, stalking into his rooms, pointing at the closest 'light stone', “Something else, Ewan. What do you call this stone?”

  “Quartz,” he grumbles, digging in his closet for something.

  “Would you like to lie to me again?” I snap, anger fizzing my blood into berserker froth.

  He pokes his head out of the chaos to skewer me with a thunderous glare, “What is burning your backside, young lady? Keep using that tone and I'll introduce you to the ecstasy of a real burn.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “You already have, offer something I haven't sampled yet, make it exciting.”

  Bastard! “You suck, Ewan. You suck so bad!”

  “Yes I do, I didn't hear you complaining about that well known fact last night.”

  He steps out of his jumble sale to march up to me, gripping my neck and aggressively walking me backwards, “What is on your mind, Liah? Why are you so bitterly bitchy this morning?”

  “They're love crystals you dumb fuck. But don't bother telling me that. It'll ruin your precious image.”

  “I love you long time baby. I give you happy ending,” he grins, silent laughter jerking his neck muscles.

  Blinking between wanting to cry and laugh, and being utterly befuddled by the conflict, I do both, “Fuck you. Seriously Ewan, you need to stop being a class A dick with me.”

  The choke hold unclamps and I'm dizzily dropped to his knee when he sits down with me, holding me loosely in his muscular prison, “Liah, there's a time and a place for declarations. This isn't the time. Give me one more day to put Wolf in his grave, then I promise I'll have some decent alone time with you and we'll cut our bones open and melt the marrows together. Okay?”