Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

F rode didn’t need to clarify further for me to figure out what he meant or what his intentions were. His hand on my ass and the sleazy, proud grin, which I just knew was on his face, was answer enough.

I had no idea why he felt the need to climb onto his pirate ship and head down to the second floor to one of the bedrooms. Perhaps it was because it was away from the rest of the island, or maybe he was too lazy to head to his hut. I wasn’t even sure if this abandoned island had huts.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded to know in a desperate scream, repeatedly raising my restrained hands and bringing them down on his back. I tried to get him to stop moving, but Frode merely chuckled and continued down the steps to the second floor.

“I’m going to show you a good time, unlike that good-for-nothing husband of yours,” Frode laughed. When he gave one cheek a firm squeeze, I screamed as loud as I could and continued to thrash my hands against his back, but it was no use. I screamed as loud as I could until my throat ached from overuse, but no one came running to my rescue. I wasn’t even sure if anyone could hear me, which made the dread filling my stomach even worse.

Oh, I wished I could be sick down his back right now. Frode would no doubt be too soiled and in a terrible mood to do anything wicked to me.

Frode pushed open the door at the end of the hallway, and I assumed this was his bedroom.

“There’s no point screaming, lass,” he chuckled, kicking the door shut behind him. He briefly paused to lock the door, and I feared the sound of the lock sliding into place would haunt me for years to come. “No one is going to come and help you, and your husband, Viktor of Jorvik, won’t be able to hear you from wherever he is. It’s a pity because I’m sure he’d love to hear the screams of his wife as another man pleasures her.”

Frode roughly threw me down on the bed. There was a dark, depraved look in his eyes as he licked his lips and dropped a hand to the tie on his breeches.

With my hands and feet tied, I could do nothing but scramble back on the bed, desperately trying to put some distance between us.

“Please. You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded, hating how pathetic I sounded.

“You’re right. I don’t have to, but I want to, and I’m going to,” he chuckled lowly. “Don’t worry, Astrid of Jorvik. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

I shuffled back until my back pressed against the wall of empty bottles, and there was nowhere else to go. Frode smirked at this, at my vulnerability, and at this moment, I wished I could disappear—anything to escape Frode and his despicable intentions.

I kept my eyes trained on him, fearful of sudden actions, and watched as his fingers played with the strings around his waist, slowly undoing them.

“I don’t want you to do anything to me,” I protested in a small voice, hating how vulnerable I sounded.

“That’s not what your eyes are telling me.” He dropped his breeches and ripped his tunic over his head, leaving him standing bare butt naked in front of me.

If I had any doubts about what Frode would do to me before, they were all cleared up now. It was apparent what he planned to do to me, whether I liked it or not.

Call me weak, scared, a coward, but I knew I couldn’t live with this sort of violation.

I saw it happen once in Jorvik when I was much younger. Some sailors had stopped by on their travels for a night of rest and some food. Barden had been kind enough to accommodate them, but two of them snuck off their ship during the night and picked a random hut.

The mother and father were tied up and blindfolded while the two men did despicable things to their daughter and only child. She had just turned eighteen.

In the morning, the men were gone, never to be seen again, and by the following evening, the girl they had violated was no more as well.

This was the first time I had thought back to that poor woman since her funeral, and I suddenly felt devastation like I had never felt before. I was far too young then to understand the gravity of the situation or why she had made that choice, but right now, moments away from having the same thing that had been done to her done to me, I didn’t see any fault in her decision. The pain was hers to live with alone and hers to manage however she saw fit. And she chose not to.

“You don’t have to do this, Frode,” I begged, furiously fighting with the ropes tying my hands together. It was no use. They were too tight.

Frode moved to stand in front of me and licked his lips; his eyes locked on me and the way I struggled on his bed.

“Don’t act like you weren’t begging for it earlier.”

I didn’t dare look up. Not when I knew he was completely naked, and his cock would be right in my face if I did.

“Why me?”

Frode shrugged. “I don’t see any other females on the ship, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve laid with a woman.”

“Please,” I begged, even though I knew it was useless. Frode was a pirate, and pirates weren’t known for their mercy. He would do to me what he wanted, and I could either submit to it in hopes that he wouldn’t hurt me or fight back.

“That’s right, Astrid of Jorvik. I love it when females beg for me.”

It took everything I had not to be sick in my mouth.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it good for you.”

I cleared my throat and looked away from him. “Can I have some time before we…”

“What do you need time for?” He asked.

“Prepare myself,” I whispered, still refusing to look at him. I need time to get used to the idea before we proceed.”

Frode watched me through narrowed eyes, not looking convinced. “How much time do you need?”

“I don’t know.” I bowed my head and sniffled. The tears were real, but I was milking them, hoping he would feel bad for me and back off. “Talk to me, Frode.”

His dark eyebrows knitted together, and he asked gruffly, “About what?”

“Anything. I need a distraction to clear my head.” I buried my face in my hands as best as I could with my wrists still tied. “Tell me about yourself. How did you end up as a pirate?”

The room went silent. I thought maybe I had angered Frode with the question when he was naked and moments away from flipping me over, pushing up my skirt and mounting me against my will, but when I looked up, he had a peculiar, somewhat distant look about him.

“Frode?”

“No one has ever asked me that before,” he murmured.

“Someone has now.”

“I don’t have a grand origin story like some other people,” he started with a chuckle, but I could tell it was to mask his nerves. It appeared that he hadn’t lied when he said no one had ever asked him this. “My father was a pirate. I was born on the water. This life is all I’ve ever known.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Unless your mother was also a pirate, there has to be more to the story.”

“Of course, my mother wasn’t a pirate,” he scoffed. “She was a lowly wench. A whore that my father accidentally got pregnant.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.

He looked away from me. “She was made to walk moments after she gave birth to me.”

Frode was right. He didn’t have a grand origin story. Instead, it was pretty sad, but I refused to feel sorry for a pirate. Not when he and his men held my husband and crewmates captive, slaving away for them until we were eventually killed–yes, it was pessimistic, but I didn’t believe the word of a pirate. Whether Viktor and the crew found the gold or not, I was certain that Frode and the other pirates planned to kill us all. And then there was the simple fact that he was moments away from violating me in the worst possible way.

“You need to untie me, Frode,” I prompted him after a few moments of silence.

He snapped out of the sad daze he was lost in and quirked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

“How are we supposed to have sex with me tied up like this?” The words made me want to gag, but I reigned in the disgust.

“I don’t need to untie you for us to have fun. I can roll you onto your stomach.” The wicked glint in his eyes made me shudder. When Viktor looked at me like that, I ate it up and was putty in his hands, but Frode made me want to scrub my skin raw until I could no longer feel his nasty gaze on me.

I forced a pout, feigning flirty interest. “But that’s no fun.”

“No?”

“No.” I shook my head and smirked. “I’m normally really into sex, but I can’t do that while tied up.”

“Into it?” He hummed lowly, licking his lips. “How so?”

“Hair pulling, back scratching, legs around the hips, over the shoulders…just normal stuff like that. Being tied up doesn’t do it for me.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

I smirked when he gulped, and from the corner of my eyes, I noticed him drop his hand to his cock, fisting it. I forced myself to keep my eyes locked on his, not wanting to see more than I should as I held my hands out.

In my sweetest voice, I asked, “Untie me?”

To my relief, Frode gulped and nodded. He gave his cock another pump before he reached under a pile of dirty clothes near the top corner of the bed. He fumbled around for a bit before he pulled out a sharp dagger, the tip gleaming in the daylight.

“I’m going to do more than just cut the ties if you try anything funny, Astrid of Jorvik,’ he warned in a low, threatening voice.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I quickly said, furiously shaking my head, willing for him to believe me. If he didn’t, I didn’t know what I would do.

I held my breath as Frode’s gaze lingered on me briefly before he dropped to his knees. He cut the ties around my wrists before instructing me to shift over so he could do the same to the ties around my ankles.

Once he was done, he carelessly threw the dagger to the side and circled his fingers around my upper arm. His lips were puckered, and he pulled me close, his face slowly descending on mine.

Frode wanted a kiss, so that’s exactly what I would give him.

Except, instead of kissing my mouth, he kissed the butt of one of his empty bottles.

Not only was Frode wicked for intending to force a woman into bed with him, but he was also very messy. He probably never cleaned his room. The wall I had been previously pressed up against was covered with empty bottles, and all I had to do was reach behind me to grab one.

Upon impact with his face, the bottle shattered in my hands. Instead of jumping back to escape the millions of glass shards that covered my lap, his naked body and the space between us, I plunged the sharp, broken bottom of the bottle into his jugular.

Blood oozed from the wound, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head–definitely not in the way he planned–as he fell forward on top of me. Not the least bit concerned about the life that was quickly draining out of him due to all the blood loss, I stepped back and allowed him to drop to the floor at my feet.

Frode opened his mouth to scream–or say his last words, I wasn’t sure–but only a strangled gasp came out. And just like when I screamed for help, no one was around to hear it.

Frode’s pathetic gasps and pleas for help fizzled out into chesty coughs and then nothing.

Silence.

Since my hands were already stained with blood and no amount of washing them would ever get it out, I pressed hard on the neck of the bottle to lodge it deeper in his jugular, forcing out more blood.

Frode was dead, and I had killed him. He had asked for it when he decided to drag me here to violate me.

Despite the feeling of numbness that washed over me, I knew that I couldn’t stay at the scene of the crime for long.

The two pirates we left behind would get suspicious if Frode didn’t return soon. With his excitement, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes.