She charged him again, a snarl on her lips, and this time her strike was aimed at the leg she had injured in the raid. She struck him hard on the thigh, and felt a thrill of victory as Bersi let out a choked sound and dropped to one knee.
“You are not a rebel anymore,” she said. “You are my property, and I will deal with you as I wish. I will not tolerate lies. I do not expect loyalty from you, I doubt you have any.”
Bersi glared up at her and she saw sweat upon his brow. The wound on his thigh might have healed, but it still pained him, and that made him weak. Torunn swung the stick again, aiming again for his head, but this time, instead of deflecting the blow, Bersi caught her wrist and pulled Torunn off balance.
She let out a thin cry of surprise as the rebel pulled her to the ground. She hit the packed dirt floor hard and she tasted blood in her mouth. Her ribs screamed in pain, but she pushed it aside. With a quick movement, she wrapped her legs around Bersi’s waist and twisted her body to drive him to the floor.
The big man grunted as his shoulders hit the floor and Torunn reared back to slam her fist into his nose. But the blow never fell. Bersi’s large hand encircled her wrist, and held her tightly. Off balance with her legs locked around the man’s torso, Torunn was now the one who was trapped. She cried out as he stretched her arm out and she felt the bandage on her ribs crack open.
“Are you finished?” he grunted.
“Let me go,” she snarled.
With a movement quicker than Torunn could process, Bersi sat up and reached behind her to grab a handful of her dark hair. She struggled against his hold, but could not escape it. His face was close to hers, and she could feel the coarseness of his beard upon her neck.
“How will you punish me for this, Mistress?” he said softly.
“I will kill you for this,” she hissed. “My brothers will kill you for this.”
“I would like to see them try.”
13
He kissed her, hard and insistent, and Torunn squirmed in his grip. Where were the other servants? Where was anyone?
But as his mouth moved against hers, she felt something inside her twist. If he were anyone else, the hard bulge of his cock pressed against the back of her thigh and the feel of his hand in her hair would have been enough to drive her to take what was being offered.
This man was a rebel. A slave. A liar and a murderer.
She didn’t want to fuck him. She wanted to kill him. But she could not do that while he was in control.
She stopped struggling and gave in to what was happening. She tightened her legs around him and moved her hips to rub against his cock. He groaned against her mouth and she opened her lips to encourage him.
Bersi’s hand tightened in her hair and he released his grip on her wrist. She gasped as his hand slid up under her tunic and found her breast. Encouraged by her reaction, Bersi kissed her harder and pulled her close. Torunn let her head drop back as his mouth moved along her jaw and down her neck as his fingers plucked and pinched at her nipple, drawing it to hardness beneath his touch.
It had been so long since she had felt anything that was not anger or grief. His cock pressed against her, and she resisted the urge to reach between them to stroke it. Caught in the heat of the moment, Bersi released her hair and used his other hand to push her tunic up over her head.
Torunn raised her arms, wincing at the pain in her ribs that had only gotten worse since their fight had begun. Her breath was coming faster now, and she moved her hips in time to inflame him all the more. Bersi’s eyes were closed as his mouth latched on to her breast and he suckled hard on first one nipple and then the other. His large hands held her body close to him, supporting her weight as she leaned back and let the familiar aching sensations wash over her. She had felt all of these things before, wanted all of these things before.
But as one hand trailed down over her spine to tug at the drawstring of her breeches, Torunn grabbed for the dagger at her hip. She drew it from its sheath in a quick movement, and flung herself forward. She pinned Bersi to the floor with her forearm across his throat.
“You take too many liberties,” she hissed. “I should kill you right here and let you bleed to death on my father’s floor.”
Bersi’s eyes were wide, but they shone with lust as he looked at her. Torunn’s heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel wetness between her thighs—
“But then I will not be able to help you,” he choked out.
“Help me?” she snorted. “How could you help me? You forget that I have a knife at your throat.”
“How could I forget such a thing.”
“Speak. Quickly.”
Bersi tried to move, but Torunn pressed harder on his throat. “Your brothers…” he choked out. “They are planning something. Your marriage.”
“I will not be marrying anyone,” Torunn spat.
“I do not think you will have a choice.”
Torunn glared at him for a long moment, and then eased some of the pressure on his throat. “Why do you say that?”
“A feeling.”
Torunn laid her blade against the pulse that pounded in Bersi’s neck. “That is not enough!”
“I cannot say what it is. But they are planning more than a wedding. Varin believes—”
“Varin believes many things he should not.”
The hardness in Bersi’s breeches still pressed against her, and Torunn moved her hips in a purposeful motion to rub herself along its length. Bersi groaned and looked up at the stars that shone through the smoke hole in the ceiling.
“You are weak, Bersi Athulfsson, and a fool to think that I would give myself to you.”
“Perhaps a man might try to taste Valhalla before his time,” Bersi chuckled.
Torunn sat up and slid her hand under Bersi’s tunic. His stomach rippled with muscle, and her fingers swirled through the roughness of the hair on his chest. She smiled slyly and pushed his tunic up to expose his torso. Bersi stayed still as she ran her hand over his body, and then stiffened as she lifted the knife from his throat and drew the edge down his chest. She paused briefly and rested the point between two of his ribs.
“I could send you there now.”
He swallowed thickly.
“You could sit beside my father at Odin’s table and tell him what you tried to do to his daughter, and how she made you pay for your dishonor.”
“Torunn, I—”
She pressed the tip of the knife against his skin and a tiny bead of blood, dark in the firelight, welled up over the edge of the metal. Bersi’s breath hissed between his teeth and she smiled.
“If only I had more time to waste,” she said with a sigh. “But I want to speak to Iarund before the sun rises.”
She pulled the blade away from his chest and patted his flat stomach with her other hand before she rolled off him and stood up.
Her tunic lay on the ground next to her blanket, and she gathered them both up before sliding her knife back into its sheath at her hip.
“Sleep well,” she said brightly as she walked toward her chamber.
Bersi did not move, and she smiled as she heard him groan once more.
Torunn kicked the door of her chamber closed and leaned against it. She shook her head and covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Her heart was still beating fast in her chest, and as much as she might have wanted to pretend that she felt nothing for the rebel, he had been a challenge—and she liked a challenge. Perhaps too much.