Chapter 9

The gleam in Rangvald's eyes was primal, of a man with no will but to possess. Was it her doing—that look?

He remained with his back against the wall, his stare unwavering. Finding him so had been a shock. Though he'd been regaining his strength with each day, she'd no notion he was able to stand. Even so, it must be taking great effort. He would be in pain, surely. Yet he stood, as if to prove to himself it could be done.

And to prove himself to her?

Until now, she hadn't realized how tall he was, a good head and a half above her. She'd returned from her visit to Frida feeling more than she could understand—disappointed and frustrated, sorrowful and angry—but seeing Rangvald like this, she no longer cared.

What did the runes matter when the evidence of his yearning was so powerfully obvious?

He was a dangerous beast, strong enough to crush her neck with one hand if he chose, but an injured beast, nonetheless. A beast who wanted to show he still had authority.

Why did that excite her?

"Take off your clothing." Rangvald's expression was unnervingly intense.

The command brought with it an unexpected pang, deep in her belly, a remembrance of what it was to lie with a man. She was tired of keeping her distance, pretending she was unaffected by his presence, tired of telling herself she needed nothing from him. Regardless of whether it was prudent, she ached to know what it would mean to let him take control.

How would it be to surrender to a man like Rangvald?

All that was left was to yield and, in so doing, take what she needed for herself. A child perhaps, but that thought had pushed itself to the recesses of her mind. Right now, at that moment, there was but the two of them and the pleasure that awaited.

What he'd suggested—spanking her like a wayward child—was not a form of bedsport with which she was familiar, but she was already imagining the sting of his palm. It would be replaced by something sweeter soon enough—his fingers exploring where she was heated, then his cock, sliding in slow thrusts.

"Did you hear? I want you naked." His voice was rougher this time.

Was it the words or purely the way he said them that made her shiver? Elin's skin prickled at the thought of standing so, with that ferocious gaze scrutinizing every part of her.

"Nay. ‘Tis enough to raise my skirts." She bit at the inside of her lip. She would not make this easy for him. Let him earn her compliance.

Somehow, he pulled himself taller, his eyes flashing as he uttered a growl. "Close the door, then come to me."

Elin swallowed. Of course, she must shut the door. It would not do for someone to drop by and catch her in such an exposed position…

Hurriedly, she did so, and at once, the room was reduced to gloom. Going to the hearth, she knelt to rake over the embers and placed two more logs upon it. She was delaying now that the moment had come, for though her heart raced, fear mixed with the excitement in her blood.

"To me." Rangvald urged. In the subdued light, his skin appeared all the darker, his mane of hair a lustrous, midnight hue, the blue-black of a beetle's wing. His lids were half-closed, and he lounged almost lazily against the wall. ‘Twas a fallacy, she knew, for it must be taking all his strength to remain as he was.

The right sleeve of his tunic, she'd mostly cut away when first binding his arm and applying the cast; the left sleeve, he'd managed to push up, revealing the bold muscles of a browned forearm. The sinew flexed as he beckoned her, and she was reminded again of what that single limb was capable of. As soon as she came within reach, he would have power over her.

Tentatively, she took the steps, and when she was close enough, he brought a hand to one side of her throat.

"Such an elegant neck." Gently, he wrapped her plait over his fist, tipping back her head. When he reached the end, where a thong of leather secured all, he removed its hold until the thick coils of gold hung loose at her back. "Better." He cupped her nape, pushing his fingers through the silken tresses.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, letting her head drop back farther.

"You are ready to do all I ask." The words were no longer a question.

Yes! Touch me! Make me forget there is anything but this. No loss or grief. No loneliness. Love me with your body if that is all the love you have.

As if he heard her, he murmured his approval.

Tracing to her collarbone, he trailed his fingertips to the upper curve of her bosom.

"Let me see you, Elin."

She swallowed again. Carefully, she unpinned the shoulder brooches that held the apron over her gunna and let it drop to the ground. She paused there. To remove her gown was too exposing all at once. She desired his caress, but still, she held back.

"There is nothing to hide." His tone was cajoling, but there was a harder edge within it. "Do as I bid."

Untying the laces that secured the yoke of her bodice, the sleeves of her gown slid from her shoulders, coming to rest halfway down her arms. Nothing concealed her from his assessment but a thin undershift.

His expression was serious as he touched her through the fine fabric, brushing the side of her breast. He lifted it within his palm before finding the nipple and rubbing it to a peak.

Gods, yes!

Again, she closed her eyes, breathing jaggedly as he teased her. She twisted, wishing the shift away, so she might feel the full warmth of his hand, but the way her gown had fallen prohibited her movement.

He laughed softly, seemingly enjoying her torment. However, he aided her at last, pushing aside the straps, so the flimsy thing dropped to her waist.

"Do not forget, you're going to bend for me, Elin." Softly, tenderly, he kneaded her flesh before returning to her nipple. "Watch when I'm touching you; watch when I do this." He pinched the peak, and she moaned, but he immediately retracted, leaving her bereft.

She glared. How dare he bring her to this state, then abandon her? She wriggled, attempting to cast off her gown, but the sleeves were firmly stuck. Without his help, she'd continue to struggle.

"‘Tis better like this, perhaps." He was clearly amused. "You can offer your buttocks to me as you are, whether your arms are free or no."

"Fiend!" Even as she cursed him roundly, he was spinning her about.

A firm hand pressed upon her back, then gathered her skirts, raising them to be flung unceremoniously over her head. She was left utterly unseeing, the orbs of her backside fully on show.

The hand returned to the base of her spine, ensuring she observed the position Rangvald desired. She was about to dissent, but his hand skimmed lower, exploring the soft skin of her bottom. As his hand dipped between her cheeks, she instinctively parted her legs.

"Where is it you like to be touched?" His voice was soft and vaguely mocking. "Here?" In leisurely fashion, he fondled her labia.

Elin stilled. Freyja, help her! Were her knees trembling? He was surely going to give her his cock. She was already wet, regardless of her mind's protest. With her thighs spread thus, ‘twould require the merest of thrusts to breach. She only hoped he could loosen his braies without her assistance.

"Or here?"

She yelped as he stroked toward her anus.

Nay! He would not dare! That was one part of her body she had never shared with Bj?rn or any man.

"Worry not, wench. I'll do naught to which you do not consent." He moved away to circle one of her cheeks.

She relaxed a little. Though not yet proven, she sensed his word—in this at least—could be trusted.

"‘Tis time to collect on the submission you promised." He spoke smoothly. "This pretty arse is made for more than sitting upon. Ten spanks of my hand should warm you well, and then…"

And then?

Her womb suffered another pang, telling her exactly what she hoped ‘and then' would lead to.

"Do hasten. I cannot be standing like this at your pleasure!" From beneath her skirts, she made her muffled answer.

"Ah, but ‘twill be for more than my pleasure. By the time I'm through, you'll come to know parts of yourself you do not yet know exist." His conceit knew no bounds. "Depend upon it, fair one. You'll beg for more of all I deliver upon you and dream upon it when ‘tis done."

We'll see about that.

His self-assurance was both provoking and enticing, making her wonder how many women he'd claimed in his years of manhood. Certainly, he'd a high opinion of his abilities.

The caressing hand gripped her behind roughly, and she tensed once more.

By the gods, do begin, or I shall expire from frustration.

When the first slap made connection with her rear, she let out a squeak. By the fifth, she was panting.

The next came where the fleshy part met the top of her thighs, and his fingers strayed to brush through her woman's fur. She pushed shamelessly against them while widening her stance. Let him feel where she glistened! Her dew had been trickling upon her leg e'er since he'd touched her breasts.

Her body cared not that Rangvald was annoyingly cocksure—only that she be given what it craved—and he could be in no doubt of her compliance. She hadn't imagined herself trussed so by her own gown for the act of copulation, but she was aroused beyond reckoning.

Arrogant he might be, but Rangvald had spoken true. As the tenth smack landed low between her cheeks, so her sensitive parts took a measure of the blow, she groaned aloud.

The earlier swats had brought a sting with them, but this was gentler by far. His palm moved lower still and lingered where it cupped her mound, pressing there.

Sweet Freyja, yes!

His finger slipped within, and she wriggled upon it, hoping he would use it to penetrate her sheath.

So many moons have passed since…

Ahhhh!

To her delight, he entered her with not one but two, drawing in slow strokes, deeper each time and pressing downward. Even from beneath her skirts, she could hear Rangvald's breathing, heavier than her own.

The way he was touching her felt so good. She was tight, but her own slickness and the smooth movement back and forth were opening her to him. He eased from her channel, returning to her pearl, where his fingers glided on either side, entrapping that small throb within their fork.

A stab of blinding bliss swept through her, almost too great to bear. As she uttered her cry, Rangvald slid back to penetrate her once more, and her inner muscles clenched upon his intrusion.

She gave a sob, for though the pleasure was great, it was over too soon, and she was abruptly aware of the stiffness of her back and the awkwardness of her position.

Righting herself, she was lightheaded. Her cheeks burned as much as her nether regions, and her hair was in disarray. Her skirts fell downward, but she was still bare-breasted, her arms trapped at the elbow within the sleeves of her dress.

She raised her eyes to those of the man who'd done this to her, limp from the rapture he'd enticed but far from sated. She must feel his girth inside her body. Hard thrusts, building until she tipped again and would clasp her legs about him, keeping his cock within her until the last drop of seed was spent.

He would be aware of the consequences—that a child might be conceived. ‘Twas unnecessary to labor the point.

A sheen of sweat covered his brow, and his breaths still came ragged but there was a keen focus in the way he stared back at her.

He wanted her, as fiercely as she did him, but ‘twas as if he saw beneath her skin, and what he truly desired lay there at the heart of her being.