Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“Viggo!” Racing back the way she’d come, Signy called out and was reassured to see him bolt to his feet. Reaching where he stood, she looked anxiously into his eyes. “Are you feeling alright? Not light-headed or nauseous or… anything at all?”

“Nay…” he answered warily. “Why should I be? The mead was hardly strong enough to have such an effect.”

“No, of course not.” Her relief was immense.

For a moment, she’d had a terrible vision of Viggo lying unmoving, in the same way as the bee she’d found, his eyes fixed and his breaths still. Memories had come flooding back to her of The Great Happening—of the men who’d succumbed so suddenly, of the many who’d never recovered…

“What’s wrong?” Viggo grasped her shoulders.

“Nothing! I’m sorry… ‘twas our disagreement. I hate it when we argue. I was angry because you didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, then a fear came upon me… of losing you.”

Now was not the time to tell Viggo of all that was truly worrying her, and he certainly didn’t need to hear her ranting about bees. It would mean nothing to him.

She’d have to tell her mother and see if Ulva could recall this occurring before. Together, they’d figure it out. For the moment, she sensed she ought to keep the situation to herself. ‘Twould be unwise to spread apprehension among the rest of the women. If any voiced fear of the curse returning, it might cause panic.

“I’m blunt with my words, or I say nothing.” Viggo passed one hand through his hair. “Both hurt you. I don’t want to cause you pain, but I don’t know what else to do. I wish I had another answer to give.”

“You’re a good man, and I have faith in you. The gods do, too, I’m sure.” Speaking softly, she placed her palms upon his bare chest. “Mayhap, they’ve sent this trial to teach you something. I want to believe your sight will return, but you may be right, and this is who you are now. If that’s the case, it changes nothing about how I feel for you. I’m saying it again. I love you, and I’d be proud to call you husband.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Viggo grimaced. “Look at me. I’m a burden and a hindrance. These feelings are a passing whim. I’m the only lover you’ve known. A novelty! But you’ll grow bored of me and my limitations. I still don’t understand why your mother hasn’t made other arrangements for you. If you make it known you’re ready to wed, they’ll come.”

If he but knew!

She still hadn’t told him—there were no other men.

The single remaining male native to the island was a babe in arms.

He’d have to know, eventually, but her reasons for withholding that information were multitude. Telling him at this moment would hardly help. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she ‘chose’ him due to a lack of other options.

The truth was, even had she a hundred eligible suitors begging for her hand, her heart would still belong to Viggo.

“You don’t see what I do.” She pressed closer. “You’re strong in more ways than you know. How could it be otherwise, having lived the life you have? All those years in the mines, from such a tender age, yet you survived. Thrived, even. And there’s so much yet to come. Not alone, but together, you and I.”

“You’re living in a dream, Signy.” His voice was weary.

“Why shouldn’t we dream, then make those dreams our reality?” Tilting back her head, she rose to her tiptoes, seeking out his mouth.

However, at the first brush of her lips he jerked back.

“You think me noble for having survived what others did not? Even when I had my sight, I was out of favor with the gods! They let my brothers die alongside men I’d known for decades. I should have died with them, buried in the mountain as they were. ‘Twould have been less cruel than letting me live on.”

“What are you saying? The mine collapsed?” She felt sick at the thought.

“Five summers ago, before Eldberg took the jarlship.” Viggo’s tone was grim. “I was head of my team by then and had come outside to speak with the foreman about the need for more props. I’d asked before, many times, and the roof of the shaft was worsening. We knew it wasn’t safe. If I’d acted sooner, demanded more, refused to take no for an answer, the situation would never have reached the point it had. I could have told the men not to go down there until action had been taken. I should have…” Viggo’s voice broke.

“You didn’t endanger them willfully!” Signy spoke with force. “You’ve said yourself; you were indentured. There were limits to what you could demand. The foreman?—”

“Aye. The foreman!” Viggo’s mouth turned into a sneer. “He made sure to spin a tale to Beornwold, so that our jarl believed his innocence. He denied I’d ever raised the matter. So much for the justice of the gods!”

Viggo took several steps backward, stopping when he bumped up against the trunk of the tree beneath which they’d lain.

“You see how it is? No good can come from aligning yourself with me. I allowed myself to believe my fate had turned toward a different path when Eldberg made his offer.” He let forth a mirthless laugh. “All paths lead to darkness for me. I know that now.”

Signy’s heart ached. Viggo bore more scars than any man should. ‘Twas no wonder he despaired. All she could do was reassure him of her love, offering soft words and the solace of her touch.

She closed the space between them, entwining her fingers with his. “I’m glad you’ve told me. Now that I understand, I can better comfort you. Hold me, Viggo. Embrace me. Bury your misery. Make love to me until you can think of nothing else. See only me and not the pain of the past.”

“Is that all you need me for? A good fuck?” Viggo snatched away his hand. “That’s why you brought me up here, isn’t it? You’re bored already of getting me to service you in your bed.”

“No! Of course not!” Signy recoiled.

“Don’t feel so bad about it.” He trembled with rage. “Why shouldn’t you make use of me? Fucking you is one thing I do well, isn’t it? You don’t need to tell me you love me to get me to perform.”

“Viggo, no! It’s not like that!” Signy’s heart pounded faster. There was something ominous in his expression…

Suddenly, he was grabbing her, twisting her around so that she smacked against the unyielding tree, her breath knocking from her lungs. With nothing more than the thin shift between her and the abrasive bark, she gasped at the harsh scraping across her back, where the scar tissue was sensitive.

“You want my cock?” Viggo forced his leg between hers. “You can have it! But I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never ask again!”

“Not like this. Please, Viggo.” She gasped out the words.

“You keep telling me what you need, so I’m giving it to you, and you’ll be getting it however I decide.” His hands squeezed her behind roughly, raising her so his thigh pressed even harder between her legs.

Desire raged in his eyes.

Dark and hungry.

Dominating.

Dangerously male.

She anticipated him wholly lifting her, wrapping her legs about his waist—as he’d done twice before, back at the hut. ‘Twas a position she found somewhat awkward but one in which he’d come quickly. That would be a blessing, wouldn’t it? Once he’d had his release, his anger would abate.

However, he whirled her about again, this time pushing her face against the trunk. Her shift was thrown up, and his erection pressed against her bottom.

Thick and hard, the feel of him enthralled her, and she arched forward, bracing her hands against the tree.

He might think to take her brutally, but she wouldn’t let it be so. She’d welcome him into her body, regardless, and revel in what he delivered. Already, a lush heat bloomed between her legs. She’d present herself to ease his penetration.

Kicking her legs apart, he grasped her hips, jerking her bottom against him again, letting her feel the rigid maleness that would soon be inside her.

Signy bit her lip, waiting for him to thrust forward and impale her, but he continued to tease.

Sliding his hands upward from her waist, he skimmed her ribs, then her breasts, before gripping her nipples with rough excitement. He pulled them hard, pinching each peak between finger and thumb.

A bolt of pleasure, fierce and wild, flashed from where he tormented her to the crux of her body, spiraling her into a place where there was only her and him and an all-consuming need.

Instinctively, her hips bucked back, and he groaned gutturally, stroking his length between her cheeks yet continuing to deny her.

“Please, Viggo,” she panted.

In riposte, his left arm wrapped tight about her middle, and he leaned upon her back.

“I’ll give you a memory to torture you.”

Just as swiftly, his right hand came up, bunching her loose-hanging hair. Tangling there, he dragged her head to the side.

With her throat exposed, he bit down with an open mouth, catching the tendon and sucking. She mewled in protest, but as he took the devouring, frenzied kiss from beneath her ear to the base of her neck, her limbs melted. His encircling arm supported her while his fist remained wound in her hair.

At last, with fire rushing through her body, he pushed into her sheath. The first stroke was smoothly driven, then he pummeled her wordlessly, pulling her back mercilessly in time with each thrust.

Signy’s body tightened with need, her nipples yearning to be rough-handled again.

Breathing heavily, Viggo pulled her upright, crushing her to him as he bit down upon her shoulder. Giving one final thrust, he cried out. His surrender brought the rushing of his seed—a rippling pulse, shooting deep.

Signy dug her nails into the arm about her waist as her own tumult took possession, shivering outward from her womb, throwing her into a shuddering, sweeping chasm. The sensation was dream-like and intensely real, as if she was aware of every part of her body simultaneously, burning hot.

Behind her, Viggo moaned, murmuring something indecipherable. His perspiration slicked her back and across her belly, where he yet held her.

She let her head fall back against his chest. ‘Twas hard to think, so great was the languor settling over her limbs, but she understood some of his words.

“Don’t hate me.” He nuzzled her neck now, where he’d bitten her before. “I hate myself, but I want you to love me. Not long. I’ll be gone. There’s nothing left.”

Was that all he could say to her?

Despite everything, all that they’d shared—including this devastating, tumultuous coupling—he couldn’t tell her that he loved her. Whatever was between them, he wasn’t capable of believing in a future.

My love isn’t enough.

‘Twas as if he’d punched her in the stomach.

He’d given up, and nothing she said or did mattered.

Viggo’s self-loathing had won.