“Search the outskirts, make sure nobody escaped,” I call out.
A small party of my closest men follow behind me as I take off toward the wooded area that surrounds the village. I hear breathing. It’s faint, along with small crunches of leaves.
It’s said that I could hear a mouse scurry through the forest. I am sharp, my hearing impeccable, my eyesight much of the same. All traits of my ancestors that were thankfully handed down to me by the gods.
Guiding my horse toward the noise, I expect to find a child hiding behind a tree, maybe a young girl. What I don’t expect to find is a woman, a full-grown woman. Arching my brow, I tilt my head to the side and take her in.
Her clothing isn’t anything that I’ve ever seen before. It’s nothing more than some thin pieces of fabric. I know that it’s thin because I can see her nipples poking through the top. I lick my lips at the sight of the buds, wanting nothing more than to taste them.
“Her hair,” one of my men points out.
My body jerks as my eyes lift from her breasts to her head. Blinking, I’m unsure at what I am seeing. Her hair is the color of eldr. I have never seen anything like it before with my own eyes. I’ve heard that in certain lands this color is normal, but I have never actually seen it for myself.
Climbing off of my stallion, I walk toward her. She’s frightened, and rightfully so, she probably watched us rape and murder her people before we torched her village to the ground. Crouching down in front of her, I reach out to touch her hair, thinking that it must be fake, that it cannot possibly be real.
Her eyes widen and her breath is heavy as she watches me. But there is something different about her. She isn’t just watching me, she is mesmerized. Her gaze is almost hungry as her eyes roam over my face and body.
“Bunafi?” I ask. “Llyne?”
She hasn’t understood anything that’s been said around her, there is no spark of recognition in her eyes as my men speak. They’ve been talking amongst themselves, speaking of their spoils, of the women that they raped and the ones that they have taken for thralls. Claiming which ones will make fine bed slaves when they return. It is clear to me that this woman does not understand our words.
“I don’t understand you,” she whimpers, confirming my thoughts.
Her voice is sweet, sweeter than a man like me will ever deserve to hear. Bunafi then, it must be. For Bunafidian is a language that is sharp to the ear and I do not understand other than a word here or there in passing. It is clear she hails from Bunafi, though I am not sure how she ended up here.
Standing, I turn to my men. “I lay claim to this woman. She is mine,” I roar.
They jerk their chins and cry out. Reaching for her arm, I wrap my fingers around her slight bicep and tug her to her feet. Pulling her behind me, I head toward my steed. Climbing up on the horse, I turn to look down and see my brother holding her, a grin playing on his lips.
Once I’m settled on the back of the horse, I flick my gaze to my brother. He takes delight in wrapping his hands around her waist to pick her up and hand her to me. She lets out a noise that goes straight to my böllur, causing it to harden immediately.
Arranging her in front of me, I slide my hand around her petite waist, pressing my palm against her belly and forcing her to lean back against me. Shifting forward slightly, I slide my lips against her ear.
“Calm, rauõr,” I murmur.
Red.
Her hair is so red, it smells so sweet, too. I’ve never smelled anything quite like it before. She trembles against me. My lips turn up into a smile as we head toward camp.
My men are tired and weary, they are also so filled with adrenaline that I wonder if we will ever sleep tonight. I grunt, unlikely. Tonight will be nothing but celebrations and thanking our gods for protecting us. Drinking, debauchery, and a feast. The most important things in a warrior’s life.
If I could guide the horse elsewhere and take this woman alone, treat her with the tenderness that I think she needs, I would. That is not what will happen though and I have no doubt that she will not like the world she is about to enter.
It also does not matter what she likes.
She is mine now.
Once we’re in the camp, I smile as I look around at my men, who are clearly already enjoying their success. The celebrations stop and the noise slowly dies as everyone looks up at me. I’m not surprised to see the consensus of shock and awe on their faces as they take in the woman in front of me.
Not only is it unheard of for me to have a woman in my presence in public at all, it is also unheard of me to have one anywhere near the battlefield. This is different though, something about this one calls to me.
“Warriors,” I shout. “You have been victorious. Dhuis rewards us with great bounty for our victories,” I shout, speaking of our Allfather God.
The men crow and cry out their battle calls. “Enjoy the spoils of this war, my men. For tomorrow we pack up camp and head toward the ships to enjoy other victories when we arrive home to our women who weep of our absence,” I roar.
Tugging on the reins of my horse, I guide him over to the trees where we have them tethered. Climbing off of my beast, I let out a groan as my feet hit the ground. There is a chill in the air here, but it is still not as cold as my home. Though, judging by the woman who was shivering in my arms, she is sensitive to the weather. She will not like Wolfjour Ail, if she is already cold here.
“Down,” I say, speaking in her native tongue.
I only know a very select few words in her language, so she will need to learn Wolfjourian and quickly. Extending my arms, I wrap my hands around her small waist and tug her down from the horse.
Pulling her close to me, I allow her entire body to glide down my own as I place her on her bare feet in the wet mud. Her hands automatically wrap around my shoulders, her fingers gripping me tightly as she tilts her head back to look up into my eyes.
I am overcome with the urge to kiss her and I do not understand why. My eyes search her own, and something fills me from deep within, from a place that I have never felt before. I have the desire to claim her, to keep her, to own her.
She speaks, but I do not understand her words. Shaking my head once, I keep my gaze focused on hers. I can see inside of her soul through her bright green orbs. I have never seen a color as exquisite as them before.
Lifting my hand, I cup the side of her head, gripping the soft red hair in my fingers. Tugging her head back, I touch my mouth to the center of her throat.
“Minn,” I growl.
Her body trembles beneath my grasp and I do not blame her. I would be terrified as well. I plan on taking her, keeping her—owning her. Grinding my hard böllur against her belly, I groan at the feel of her erect nipples against my chest, I can feel them through her soft fabric.
Gripping the material of her clothing at her waist, I slowly tug it up, exposing her stomach then her breasts. Her lips part and her eyes widen as she lets out a gasp. She doesn’t push me away, not that I would allow it anyway.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
I only understand name, so I assume she has asked me my name.
“Aaric,” I purr.
It is not normal for me to be so informal, especially with a woman who will be my bed slave when we return. With her, it feels right.
“Liv,” she whispers.