Page 59 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 7

The sun had risen many hours earlier while Ragnar and Absolon stayed abed, fucking languorously through the morning. Ragnar reveled in their stamina and yielded to the sensual pleasure of body on body, of Absolon’s rigid yet pliable form beneath him, and brought him to climax again and again.

The morning passed.

Absolon nestled against Ragnar’s side, brushing his fingertips through the hair on Ragnar’s chest. But the circling of his finger, the drawl of his hand across his skin, was like a spoon stirring a pot of bubbling agitation. Absolon weighed on him. One of Ragnar’s arms draped over Absolon’s shoulder; the other he kept by his side, locked in a fist.

“When can we go to the village?”

Absolon tilted his face up to him. “Why do you want to go to the village?”

“To look around, to see where I am, to try out my power.”

Absolon raised himself, the look on his face uncertain, wary. “You…you want to kill someone?”

“No, not especially, I want to see how much strength I have.”

He frowned. “You know you don’t have to harvest again for another thirty days.”

“What about you? Won’t you have to feed sooner?”

He hung his head. “Yes.”

“Then we’ll go together. We’ll put ourselves in harmony.”

“Perhaps not today.”

Ragnar held back a growl. “How about we stretch our legs and run? I’d like to see how much strength is in me. I saw you moving those tree trunks around; I want to try something similar.”

“I guess we can do that.” He leaned down and kissed Ragnar’s lips, but the action angered Ragnar, provoking a belligerent streak that could not be so easily calmed.

If he wanted to go to the village, who was Absolon to tell him otherwise? Who was anyone to say what he could not do? He was meant to lead, to dominate, to control. He released that fire into the kiss he returned to Absolon and pushed him onto his back, his cock raging to life and rubbing against Absolon’s stomach. He broke the kiss to see that smile back on Absolon’s face, a corresponding passion in his eye, and an erotic tilt to his off-kilter grin. Ragnar flipped him so he wouldn’t have to see that look of love and fucked him until the sun past its peak.

When they finally separated, Ragnar got out of bed and washed himself of Absolon’s smell and seed and dressed ready to explore. But Absolon stayed abed, hugging his bent knees, and studied him.

The attention prickled the skin on his neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What was it like to take Åke’s soul?”

His gut twisted on itself, but he forced it to untangle. He would not feel guilt and he would not allow Absolon’s act to weaken him. “Bearable.”

Absolon shook his head. “You are cruel, Ragnar.” He threw back the blanket and marched out of the house to wash.

Ragnar pursued him. “It wasn’t I who brought him here. You’re the one who made the devil’s choice.”

“And one fitting for a devil.” He scrubbed himself, hurried and rough. “Do you have no remorse for taking his life?”

“Why should I? I gave him peace. What future did he have?”

He stopped and put his hands on the edge of the trough. The muscles in his forearms tensed. “But he loved you and would have done anything for you.”

“And he gave the greatest sacrifice so that I may live. I would expect it of any who followed me.”

Absolon straightened. “You didn’t even try to save him.”

“Why would I? He served a much better purpose in giving up his life.”

“You honestly believe that people should be grateful they can help you in your aims.”

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