Page 20 of Her Viking Saviour
Throwing sense to the wind, he pulled her against his chest and kissed her hungrily. He had no restraint, which felt foreign since he prided himself on self-discipline. He plundered her mouth with his tongue and his hands swept the soft curves of her body. He felt like an animal. His primal instincts had overcome any rationality and, as she rubbed her body against his, her ardent response only fuelled his desire.
“I need you, Wynflaed. I need to be one with you,” he panted breathlessly to her.
I need her like I need my next breath of air.
Chapter Nineteen
They were very much alone. She had not thought further about being in such close proximity to him after avoiding his presence. Her body flushed with heat and desire as she inhaled his scent of crisp air and hard-earned sweat. She tried to stay focused and to stop her gaze as it travelled down to his lips, as she imagined them pressed against her body. She tried to keep her eyes on his torso, but then all she could see were the bulging muscles that rippled across his chest and arms. The intensity between them meant he wanted her, too. Knowing it and hearing it were two different things, though. Hearing those words leave his mouth unleashed the wanton in her.
“Take me, Torben. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.”
She stood back from him and slipped off her cloak, then pulled down her gown till she was in her shifts and boots. His eyes darkened with desire, and it emboldened her to slip the shift down her body and take off her boots until she stood naked. The days had begun to cool as winter neared, but she burned with passion and felt no chill as she ran her hands down her body.
“Take your clothes off, Torben, and lay upon the grass,” she told him with no hesitation. Wordlessly, he obeyed and began toremove his own clothing till he, too, stood nude. She marvelled at the hard lines of his body. He was not just fair, but golden, his skin glowed in the setting sunlight that peeked through the clouded sky. She moved her gaze down his chest and gasped at the sight of his manhood aimed at her, big and hard. This was nothing like the previous encounters she had had. Before she lost her nerve, she moved to him and splayed her hands through the light sprinkle of fair hairs across his chest.
“My body yearns for you, Torben.”
His response was a growl. No words, just a carnal sound as he swooped her up and gently laid her upon the grass. He rolled over so she was atop him. She felt the throb of the hardened proof of his desire against her own wet core and could not resist rubbing herself against him. He groaned and moved his hands from the thighs that straddled him up to the curve of her waist to cup her breasts. They ached for a touch she did not know was possible. She cried out in ecstasy when he raised himself up to take the tightened nipple in his mouth and suck. She had no idea this act could be so sensual, so gratifying, as he moved between each breast, suckling and rubbing.
“Are you ready for me, Wynflaed? I can feel the wetness of your need on me.” He slipped a hand between her legs to her throbbing core. He placed his fingers inside her, one, then two, mimicking the consummation she desperately needed, and she rocked back and forth on his hand as she moaned his name repeatedly. She wanted him inside her, but the magic he worked with his fingers had gripped her body like she was possessed. He urged her to take her pleasure, and her body tensed all over as the most intense feeling of satisfaction spread through her body. The moment she had shared with herself was nothing compared to this, and she cried out. She lost the strength to stay upright and fell against his chest as she tried to steady her breath. Torben ran his hands through her hair and whispered words ofsweetness. She had taken her pleasure, but what of Torben? She could still feel his hardness and sat back up.
“Only if you are ready, Wynflaed,” he said gently with a pained expression.
“I am ready, Torben. I am not a virgin,'' she whispered and she closed her eyes. She moved her hand to stroke him, still amazed by the size. Her small hand could not fit around him as she positioned herself over him. She sank down, taking him slowly bit by bit until she was full of him. She opened her eyes to watch his face as she made her descent and was fascinated by the myriad of passionate expressions that passed across his face. Then he began to move, and she lost any conscious thought as rapture overtook her once again.
Chapter Twenty
Torben felt like he had died and the Valkyries had carried him to Valhalla. Surely this was what entering the Great Hall must feel like. A feeling of absolute bliss. Being one with Wynflaed was his Valhalla, she would be his everlasting bliss. He had easily pushed aside his jealousy at knowing he was not the only man who had known her.I will be the last man that ever does, he thought as he gripped her hips. She undulated on him as he thrust deep inside her. He wanted her to reach her peak again, and he used every bit of restraint he could muster to keep himself from his release. She was a vision of beauty with her head thrown back, her lush mouth parted as she moaned, and her hands grabbing her own breasts. Just when he felt he would burst, he felt the warm walls that gripped him tightly clench as she cried out again, and her whole body shuddered in release.
“Wynflaed, you are mine. Mine, Wynflaed. All mine,” he growled at her between clenched teeth as he erupted inside her. Never in all his time had it felt this good. Her body collapsed on him, and he watched the last rays of the day fade. It would be dark soon, but he did not want to leave her body and she did not seem to want that either.
‘Wynflaed, are you well?” He hoped he had not been too ferocious in their lovemaking.
“I am more than well, Torben,” she said with a sated voice, and looked at him with soft eyes. The amber colour was molten, warm, and deep, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I meant what I said to you, Wynflaed. You are mine now. Always.”
“And you are mine, Torben. I will not share you with another.” He bit back a smile at the fire that flashed through her eyes.
“I need no one but you, my spitfire love. They may call me Torben ‘Hel-Bringer,’ but you are a fire all on your own, Wynflaed.
“Speaking of which, I want to know you, Torben. Unburden yourself, tell me of who you were. I know who you are. And then we will discuss Guthred and Freydis.”
He nodded. There could be no secrets between them.
“I will start with ‘Hel-Bringer.’ When I was younger, I fought in many battles. Against other Vikings, the foreign people of the faraway lands we raided, and your very own people. My grandfather sailed with Ragnar Lodbrok west. I was a young boy, of twelve summers. When they returned, they brought riches, a wealth of gold and silver, and slaves.”
“The times when the Vikings learned that sailing west was possible, new riches and spoils was momentous, and as you know that they continue to do so to this day. Once I reached fifteen summers my father took me raiding. For practice, he said we would start with the Germanic tribes, people we have raided and fought with for generations. My father told me that when the battle began–once I had broken free from a shield wall–I was unstoppable, like I had the blood of a berserker. I would leave a path of destruction in my wake and come out untouched myself. I could never explain how I did this. Just that my senseswere heightened, and my body was fluid with the axe and sword like we were one. I always felt Odin fought with me, I sensed his presence in my mind like my own thoughts were one with his. When I finally told my father, he was pleased. Our lineage had always held an affinity with the Raven God and I had been touched with a blessing not seen in the last few generations of our family. Of course I was proud. I was young, strong, and eager to share my reputation, so I began the journey to raid in the west.”
“This means you received the name ‘Hel-Bringer’ when you arrived in my homeland,” Wynflaed commented, her face still grim, but he saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes.
“Yes, on the battlefield the men were in awe of my fighting skills and all the people I sent to the underworld. The goddess Hel, daughter of Loki, presides over Hel in Niflheim. They would say death sent them to Hel, a place for those who died without honour, without any heroic deed to their names. But to die by my hand meant that, even if you deserved it, Valhalla–or wherever the good Christians went–would not be for you. They whispered that that was my curse. I had Odin’s spirit with me and he wanted the souls sent to Hel, and Hel would welcome them into her everlasting icy depths.” His voice was hollow with the memories of all the death he had caused as he looked down at the ground. I am not worthy to bask in her gaze.
“But something made you step away from this, Torben,” Wynflaed said gently, as she rubbed his hand in comfort. He raised his eyes back to her and saw compassion in her eyes, the sun’ setting rays highlighted the golden flecks. He pressed her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“I would fight in battles against men, but I always distanced myself from raids on villages. For a while I was indifferent and no one dared question me. The men were afraid to anger me lest they, too, be denied Valhalla and instead be greeted by Hel.
“There was one raid where I was overseeing the plundering of supplies, riding through the village to make sure nothing had been missed. As I rode by, I saw such atrocities committed, it sickened my stomach. I will not share what I saw, these visions do not belong in your mind. I rode away even though every instinct told me to strike my brethren down. I found a tree and carved a raven in it. I sliced my hand with a blade and pressed my bloodied palm upon the bird. I do not know why I did it, I suppose I thought it would help bring Odin to me. And it did. In my mind I saw Yggdrasil and Odin stood underneath it. He was cloaked but I could sense him. I asked for his forgiveness and for permission not to battle unless it was to defend my people. He nodded and said raiding was not my path any longer, and instead I could preserve the ways of old. He did not explain further, but the ways of my people had been to trade and farm, not just raid and plunder. I never lost the name ‘Hel-Bringer,’ it is a reminder of my part in the harm we caused. I will fight now to protect those I care for and when there is no other choice. It took my father a long time to accept, but I am glad he did before he passed. He knew I would protect Klavik and my siblings. That was enough for him.”
