Viking Beast (Viking Warriors Book 3) by Emmanuelle de Maupassant

Author:Emmanuelle de Maupassant [de Maupassant, Emmanuelle]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dark Castle Press
Published: 2019-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

In the weeks that followed, Thoryn came to the longhouse each morning, escorting me to his home to attend Thirka. In his care, she flourished, healing more quickly than I’d expected.

He’d offered Eldberg twice her value, and they were to wed as soon as Thirka could stand unaided.

The jarl did not speak of it, merely purchasing two thralls to replace her: a married couple of Norse blood and older years, enslaved during a raid to the north. Though Sigrid kept us busy, the work became easier, with more shoulders to bear the burden.

Eldberg’s moods were varied: at times angry, at others, considerate. There were days when he kept me in his bed, watching as he caused my tension to build. He would edge me toward release, making me shudder with passion I could not withhold.

I tried to close my mind against all that shamed me, telling myself that a thrall lacked the privilege of choice. I wanted to defy him, yet a strange intimacy grew between us. It was as if two men resided within him.

Despite these thoughts, I didn’t forget that I was his captive, and he my master—for as long as it amused him. When that time was over, I knew not what would come. He could dispose of me in whatever fashion he saw fit. Perhaps he’d sell me in some far-off market, to whoever paid the best price; he’d sell my child, too, if it lived.

The need to escape remained with me. To stow away on some trading vessel would likely take me from one danger to another. To attempt a crossing of the mountains would be madness. The best plan seemed to be to follow the river which had brought me to Skálavík. That path, I knew, would return me to Svolvaen, although I had no idea of what remained there.

If my old friends had survived, did they think me dead, or that I’d colluded with Skálavík to bring about the events of that terrible night? It pained me to think of it. The friendships I’d made had been precious to me—hard won as they were.

Astrid. Ylva. Torhilde. Helka… And Eirik. Was it foolish of me to hope they might still live? Hadn’t I seen the longhouse set afire and heard the screams of those within? Hadn’t I witnessed Eldberg stand over Eirik and plunge a blade into his body?

I oft saw Eirik in my dreams, so vividly—his shoulders squared for battle, his sword raised in defiance.

If Svolvaen was no more, reaching Bjorgen would be my best chance. Jarl Ósvífur would grant me protection, surely, honoring my position as Eirik’s widow. Perhaps, Helka and Leif had survived the attack, and I’d find them safe there, although it hardly seemed possible to hope. If they were alive, wouldn’t they have come and bargained for my release?

Still, I needed to believe there was a place for me, somewhere beyond Skálavík.

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