Ravished by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  Roxana nodded her understanding. “Very well. I’ll give the checker a nod. You needn’t hold me. I come willingly.”

  Dagr gave her a cold smile and turned to Baraq. “Tell Cyrus he will remove himself and one container of ore from the Proteus.”

  Roxana gasped. “Cyrus ...”

  Dagr’s sharp gaze lanced her. “Onto the ship, Roxana.”

  She shook her head. “This Cyrus ...”

  “A man in my employ. Get on the ship. You’ve already promised your cooperation.”

  Her jaw sawed shut, but she strode up the gangway. Inside, Roxana hung back, her gaze sweeping the Vikings who were busy using a crane to lift one container of ore onto a cart for delivery to the other ship.

  Honora lingered, watching Roxana’s strange behavior. When Cyrus shouted to Dagr and slid down the ladder, both feet bracketing the rungs as he glided down, she saw the woman’s face blanch.

  Cyrus gave the party arriving a quick glance, then swung back to Roxana. He stepped closer, his expression hardening, daggers in his eyes.

  Roxana swallowed hard. “Hello, Cyrus.”

  “You two know each other?” Dagr asked, his glance cutting between the two.

  “She’s the one who owns my papers.”

  “The woman who kept you as her slave?”

  “Her thrall,” Cyrus ground out.

  Roxana’s chin rose. “You were a well-compensated thrall. I paid you portions of my takes. You were earning your freedom. I wasn’t the one who enslaved you to begin with.”

  “That didn’t stop you from using me for your pleasure.”

  She raised a dark brow. “I don’t remember you minding all that much.”

  Honora watched, transfixed by the roiling emotions that caused Cyrus’s expression to harden and the lady pirate’s to pale.

  “What’s she doing here?” Cyrus asked, his gaze never leaving hers, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

  “She’s here to ensure our departure,” Dagr drawled. “We’re purchasing one of her transport ships too. We’ll need it to get to Helios.”

  “What about her?”

  “I told her she’d be transported back to the surface once we were clear.”

  Furious red blossomed in the centers of his cheeks. “She’s mine, Dagr.”

  “I don’t go back on my word,” Dagr said quietly.

  “I’ll sell you his papers,” Roxana said, directing her words to Dagr. “Along with the ship. He’ll be free and clear to travel anywhere in the known universe, a free man. Right now, he has a bounty on his head.”

  Dagr turned to Cyrus. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to enslave her,” Cyrus said between clenched teeth. “Make her bow to me the way she forced me to endure a hundred indignities.”

  Dagr shrugged. “You’ve earned the right to her.”

  “B-but we have a bargain,” Roxana sputtered.

  Cyrus smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. “If I didn’t owe Dagr a debt, I’d keep you. But we have need of only your ship. Sell it and my papers to Dagr. Then we’re through ... for now. One day, I’ll return and we’ll settle our personal debt.”

  Roxana drew herself up. Her chin tilted high.

  If Honora hadn’t had tons of recent experience, she wouldn’t have recognized the look on the other woman’s face. There was longing there ... and arousal.

  Cyrus and the dread pirate Roxana ... Honora snorted.

  Cyrus swung his head toward her, his eyes narrowing into a bitter glare.

  She lifted her brows in innocence. “Did I say anything?”

  He stomped off.

  Honora cleared her throat to get Dagr’s attention. “So who will pilot the Proteus?”

  Dagr’s face, while still hard and unyielding, softened, so slightly only she recognized it. “We have mutual interest in recovering the hunters’ ship. But we both can’t follow it. Roxana’s transport is our best solution. The Daedalus will still need a distraction, something to lead Consortium ships down another trail.”

  Honora’s stomach dove toward her toes. “You’re talking about letting them get a whiff of the Proteus. You would sacrifice it?”

  “Where is the sacrifice? We will only run so far.”

  “You want me to captain the ship, lead it away from my higher command. You would trust me to do that? To openly defy them?”

  “I would trust you with more, but you won’t have to prove yourself. I will remain aboard your ship, along with several of my men. Enough to sustain the plausibility that we were responsible for the capture by ourselves.”

  Honora felt light-headed and drew a deep breath. “But they’ll imprison you. No matter that you’re a king.”

  “For a time, perhaps. But I have a plan.”

  “This is foolhardy. Insane. Go with Cyrus. I’ll stay here long enough that the other ship can be well away before I meet up with the armada.” Her breath hitched around the lump in her throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself.”

  “And I promise that is not my intent. I have two purposes, Honora. First, I must recover the captives. But I must also strike at the heart of the Consortium or they will never leave my world alone.”

  “But you can’t win.”

  “Because they have ships and superior weaponry?”

  She took a deep breath to reassure him, but let it out. “Well, yes.”

  “They don’t protect their homes, their families. They don’t have as much at stake.” He clenched his jaws. “They underestimate us if they think that my demise, or my wolves’ demise, will end the conflict.”

  Fists tight at her side, she stared into his eyes. “You talk about dying as though it doesn’t matter.”

  “Every life matters. But how you spend it, what you stand against, defines you. I will not surrender. I will not allow any Outlander to dictate how I live or die.”

  Honora felt a burning at the backs of her eyes and swung away from Dagr.

  When his hand closed around the top of her shoulder, she tried to jerk away, but his arm encircled her waist and pulled her against his belly. He nuzzled the side of her cheek. “I promise I don’t intend to commit suicide.”

  She turned inside his arms and stared up at him. “Will you tell me what you plan?”

  “No, because I have to know you’re safe. That you won’t be part of this.”

  The gruff texture of his voice had her melting. Did he truly care? “I’m already part of this.” She pressed closer, inhaling his musk.

  “But they will not know that.”

  She rubbed her cheek on his chest. “How soon?”

  “We still have ore to deliver, to Kit and to Roxana. Then we will divide the men. The Daedalus will leave first; then we will make our way back, through the armada. When we pass through their ranks, we will lead them on a chase.”

  “So we still have some time left?”

  Dagr’s mouth stretched with a soft smile. “How do you want to pass the time?”

  Threading her arms beneath his and rubbing her palms up his back, she leaned closer. “I would remember the taste of you. The smell. The heat.”

  Dagr’s jaw flexed. He cupped her face between his palms and bent to kiss her. “This will not be the last time we are together.”

  “How can you promise me that?” Her gaze savored the lips just inches from her own. “You don’t have a clue how powerful they are. How far they can spread their tentacles.”

  Dagr trailed his lips along her cheek. “I have never felt this way for a woman, Honora. The gods can’t be so cruel to give us a taste of what life would be like for us, then separate us forever.”

  She clung to him, burrowing her face into his chest, sinking into his warmth because she felt suddenly cold, suddenly frightened. Something she wasn’t accustomed to, but she realized she’d never cared for anything or anyone as much as she did this man whom she hadn’t known even a week ago.

  “We still have some time,” he whispered. “Be with me.”

&nbs
p; Although that was exactly what her heart wished, she struggled to be practical. “We have preparations to make.”

  Turk cleared his throat. “Honora ... Captain,” he said, grimacing. “I have the controls. I’ll use the intercom if I need you.”

  Dagr led her away, his hand clutching hers.

  Honora felt slightly nauseous. Her eyes were scratchy. Gods, she was going to cry. She sniffed.

  Dagr’s hand tightened, but he didn’t turn. “No tears, elskling. If you cry, I fear I won’t have the strength to do what must be done. This is why warriors don’t love.”

  She smiled at that. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He grunted, a sound that suspiciously resembled a laugh.

  She rounded on him and smacked his arm.

  His one-sided smirk said he’d done it on purpose, pissed her off to keep her strong. The fact he knew her so well already warmed her from the inside.

  She’d trust him. Trust that he wasn’t just hoping, wasn’t really planning to commit suicide to save his brother and the other captives.

  With hurried steps, they made their way to the gym. This time she locked the door as soon as they entered, flipped the switch to frost the windows, and then began to remove her clothes with shaking hands.

  He was already stripping, skimming down his trousers before she’d even removed her boots. She stalled because she wanted to imprint this picture of him, so tall and thick and proud, in her mind and heart. Because there was no way he could persevere. No way he would walk away the victor.

  And she didn’t care now whether or not she lost her command, was stripped of her rank, or even prosecuted. She might as well be dead. Without him, without the love that filled her to bursting this very moment, she had no reason to live.

  He strode for her, his expression stern, but now she saw the pulse pounding at his temple, the tension rippling along his jaw, not from anger, not because he wanted sex—at least, not just that. He needed her.

  He might not be capable of feeling as deeply as she did now, and she thought it was probably a good thing, because she understood why a Viking warrior eschewed the emotion. It crippled. It froze. It weakened.

  Her legs trembled, and she sank to her knees on the floor.

  Dagr plucked her up and sat her on the bench. He pulled the slide at the top of her skin-suit and peeled it down. His hands slipped inside, warming her breasts because she was shivering despite the balmy temperature of the room.

  He removed the suit, kneeling to take off her boots and slide the trousers and insulated skin past her toes. When he stood, he picked her up again and headed toward the door at the far end.

  She snuggled against his chest, smiling softly. Dagr knew every feature of her ship. She wasn’t surprised he knew about the bath with the jets, large enough to accommodate three Helios, but just big enough for Dagr and her alone.

  He set her at the edge of the sunken tub and softly ordered the settings he wanted. While the water rose and the jets began to swirl, he gathered cloths, towels, and scented soaps. When it was full, he descended into the small pool and reached for her.

  Honora wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and clung, resting her cheek over her strong heart, while the warm water swirled in the strong jets and bubbles burst against her skin and her sex.

  Dagr kissed her hair. “You will like our hot springs.”

  Again, he talked about a future they most likely would never share. She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump lodged at the back of her throat. “Tell me about them.”

  Holding her close, Dagr sat on a submerged bench.

  Honora spread her knees on either side of his hips and eased down, riding the long ridge of his cock between her folds. She rubbed slowly back and forth, teasing him by stroking him but never taking him inside. “Tell me about your hot springs. I didn’t know there was any warmth to be found on your world.”

  His face was split by a boyish grin. “We pride ourselves for our stealth and secrecy. Your people abandoned us to work in deep mines. But they never explored the world beyond the deposits of ore beneath the permafrost.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his, enjoying the rough scrape of whiskers that had sprouted on his face. She liked that he didn’t wear a full beard like so many of his men, and enjoyed this hint of masculine bristle. “Tell me.”

  His hands settled on her hips, thumbs caressing her abdomen. “Soon after the Norsemen arrived on New Iceland, the animals they brought escaped from their cages. The people thought they were all dead. Frozen. Then one day, a man saw a crow flying. He followed it into a cave, and discovered another world beneath the cold surface of the planet—a place scoured out by water heated by pure light and streaming through the rock in wide rivers. The melted water formed large caves, which are lit by the ore. Rock and dirt deposited by the rivers on their banks grew lush forests. Our animals had found the caves.”

  She stopped her shallow movements to listen. “Why don’t you live there?”

  “Some do, growing crops, hunting for meat for our tables. But most of us work to support our only industry. Mining.”

  “It must seem like a wonderland. This underground forest.”

  “It is. And the springs I mentioned, some are as hot as this bath. With restorative powers.”

  She tilted her head. “You’re telling me this. Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell my own people and they’ll have even more reason to conquer your world?”

  Dagr bracketed her face with his wet hands and kissed her mouth. “I trust you, Honora, to not betray my people. It’s my desire that you return with me. Our world can be harsh, but I will see you kept in comfort. I will spend some of my wealth to provide you the things you need to be happy.”

  “I don’t need things, Dagr. I need a purpose. I need to be part of something bigger.” She dipped her head to rub the tip of her nose against his. “But I also need you.”

  “I am yours.”

  The moment was very nearly perfect. Or so she’d thought until he began to caress her. His fingers spread and raked slowly down her back, then slid under her ass and massaged her buttocks.

  She gave a little breathless murmur and rolled her hips in another teasing glide that swept her cleft forward and back along his shaft.

  His fingers tightened. Dagr lifted her and his cock tracked down her buttocks, then traced a path toward her labia. At her entrance, Dagr held her still, his gaze locked with hers.

  “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  He brought her slowly down his cock, all the way until her pussy met his groin. Then he ground her forward and back, her clit rubbing against his pubis.

  Her pussy clenched him hard, a cramping need curled around her womb. “I’m going to come,” she moaned.

  “Yes, please,” he mimicked.

  Only he sounded anything but submissive and pleading. She smiled, then let her head fall back and allowed him do all the work ... lifting, lowering, grinding ... until her body caught fire, and she fisted her hands in his hair and rubbed her breasts on his chest, her pussy against the hard bone of his groin. She blew into a million little pieces, riding a tide of wet, hot bliss. She shuddered against him, panting hard.

  Dagr pulled her hair, which reminded her that her fingers were still tangled in his.

  She unwound her fingers and gave him a small, apologetic smile. “You have a gift. I forget myself every time.”

  Dagr’s long-fingered hands rubbed over her shoulders; his fingers trailed down, over her breasts. Then he turned his palms to cup her. “You inspire me.” His thumbs scraped her nipples.

  She groaned at the tingling he started there again.

  His touch left her chest, and he reached for one of the folded cloths. He worked soap into the cloth, then began to bathe her while she remained on his cock. “Raise your arms.”

  She did so, then giggled when he washed her armpits.

  Dagr slid the cloth there again, and she wrinkled her nose, trying to hold back a laugh. With
her arms raised like a child and him tickling her, she shouldn’t have been quite so aroused, but everywhere he looked, her skin flushed. When he circled over her breasts, her tips extended, growing rock hard.

  He cupped water in his hands and rinsed her skin, then lifted her and latched on to a nipple, sucking it into his mouth, then widening his lips and pulling the whole breast inside.

  She felt the ungentle tug all the way to her toes and undulated, crying out when the sensation became too much.

  When he came off it, he did so slowly, suctioning all the way until all that he held between his lips was the tiny, hardened point.

  “You’re killing me,” she said, tugging a long, wet strand of his hair.

  He released her breast, his mouth making a popping sound. Then he lifted her the rest of the way off his cock and stood her in front of him.

  Rising, he pulled her hand and they both left the water. He tossed a towel at her, and she grinned when it slapped her chest. Feminine power rippled through her, building her excitement. He was in a hurry now, impatient and aching, if the size and redness of his erection were any indication.

  She dried haphazardly, turned on her heel, and strode into the other room. She crawled onto the mattress, wagging her ass, because she could hear his footsteps pad on the tiles behind her.

  Hands clamped on her buttocks. Fingers crushed her, holding her hips in place.

  His mouth licked and kissed her bottom. Then teeth bit.

  She screeched, but the sound was cut off by the quickness of his next move, which flipped her to her back. She opened her legs without hesitation, and he aimed his cock at her entrance, nudged it once, then sank himself to the hilt in her silky, creamy depths.

  Sixteen

  Dagr came down over Honora, needing to touch her everywhere as he began to pump inside her. Her thighs scissored restlessly around his hips; her head thrashed on the soft pillows. The amber of her eyes melted beneath a golden, glossy sheen.

  He framed her face and kissed her. “You cannot cry.”