Page 14 of Bats Out of Hell (Vikings Rock #1)

H aakon shoved at his pants, then huffed and had to sit and remove his boots too. When he was fully naked he stood, hands on hips, and watched his new wife slowly unpeel from her gown.

His cock stiffened. Oh, she was a beauty. Her breasts were round and ripe, her nipples pink and tight. Her waist was small and the flare of her hips told him she’d be fertile and strong. And her skin, it was the shade of milk and as delicate as a feather. He licked his lips; the urge to kiss her all over and learn her taste and shape was almost overwhelming.

She turned and set her folded gown on the end of the bed.

His throat tightened when he saw her apple-round ass for the first time. He clenched his fists, imagining palming its softness as he sank deep into her pussy.

“What do you want me to do?” she said in a stiff, little voice.

“Lie on the bed.” His stomach clenched and his balls tingled. He took his cock in his hand and fingered the ring at the end, enjoying how it heightened his arousal.

She did as he’d asked and he savored the moment of watching her move. Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling something nearby— clang, clang —but he barely noticed. She had his entire attention.

The hair at the juncture of her thighs was dark and untrimmed and her legs were long and elegant, the muscles defined as she moved. Likely, she could run well, swim too. That thought pleased him.

She lay back on the furs with her hands curled into fists and her eyes screwed up tight.

“There is no need to look as though you are about to be sacrificed against your will to appease the gods,” he said, stepping up to the bed.

“’Haps that is how I feel.” She kept her eyes closed.

“I will bring you pleasure.” His cock was at full hardness, solid in his hand, and the tip tingled with anticipation of pushing into her wetness. “Don’t you believe me?”

“‘Pleasure.’” She grimaced. “I can’t imagine that for a moment. Pain. Mortification. Disgust. That is what I expect.”

He froze and his heart turned leaden. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” She opened her eyes and glared at his face. It seemed as though she were avoiding looking at his cock, which was odd. Most women openly salivated for him.

“I heard disgust and pain , which hurts me here.” He banged his chest with his free hand as the breath squeezed in his lungs. “And it not what a woman should say to a man on their wedding night.”

“Oh, just get on with it, will you?”

She opened her legs a fraction and a tremble went over her gooseflesh skin, her breasts shaking slightly.

An urge to take her in his arms, hold her, kiss her, show her that his body would only bring hers pleasure gripped him, but he held back.

“Please, be quick.” She reached for the cross that sat in the hollow of her throat and kissed it. “God be with me.”

“God be with you?” He released his cock. “Why would you say that now, of all nights?”

“Because you are a big man. This will hurt.”

“I have no intention of causing you pain, but if you do not relax…” He sat on the bed and brushed his thumb over her nipple. “Then—”

His words were cut short when she flinched away from him. Suddenly, his entire body felt unbearably heavy with disappointment. She really didn’t want him. Really didn’t see him as the virile Viking he was.

Disgust.

That was what she’d said.

His cock deflated and he sighed loudly.

“Please, just do it. I won’t fight you and I won’t scream.” She pursed her lips so tight, they went almost white. “But I beg you to be quick.”

“No!”

“No?” She opened her eyes. “But…?”

He stood and walked away from her, grabbing his pants. “I am a man and a lover. Women want me, beg for me, and I will not take you—even if you are my wife—if you do not want me to.”

She sat, elbows locked behind her. “But you…you said…?”

“I know what I said and I know what I want: to fuck you. But I am not someone who finds pleasure when my partner does not.” He shoved his legs into his pants then hopped on the spot as he pulled them up and tied the waist. “So hear this, Kenna: you will remain unsatisfied until you are begging for me, begging for my cock. Until you feel remorse for calling me ‘disgusting,’ until you feel like you will die if I do not fuck you all day and all night. Until then, you will not have me.” He tipped his chin. “I bid you goodnight.”

He flicked the rug and left the room he’d been so excited to show her. A part of him wanted to storm back in, shuck his pants, and take her hard and fast. Show her what she was missing. Prove to her they could be so good together. That his pierced cock could give her pleasure she didn’t even know existed.

But he didn’t. Instead, he poured ale, drank deep, then sat and stared at the door, which was rattling in the wind. For the first time, he wondered if he’d made a mistake leaving Drangar. These people were tolerating him. He’d scared them into allowing him to stay. Was that really what he wanted? Was that really how to make himself belong?

And he’d demanded Kenna marry him. But wasn’t that his right? To choose a wife? He could have had any woman he’d chosen back in Drangar. They’d all wanted him and his big cock and his title.

But here…?

Kenna.

She’d gritted her teeth and prayed to her god to take her away from the bed in which he wished to love her.

Fuck it.

What was he going to do?

How could he get her to desire him the way he desired her?

He’d dunked himself into the bitterly cold ocean and walked away from the gods he’d revered all of his life for her. Spared an entire village…for her. What more could she expect of him?

*

At some point, Haakon felt his eyes grow heavy, and knowing Kenna was safely in their new marital bed, he allowed sleep to come over him. The room was warm—though outside, a storm blew—and his belly was full.

When he woke, daylight sliced beneath the door along with a small drift of snow. The cockerel crowed and in the distance, the farrier banged and the carpenter sawed.

He’d slept for hours. With a stiff spine, he sat forward and ran his hand through his hair. Glancing at the blanket partition, he saw it had been disturbed.

Quickly, he got up and looked into the bedchamber. Kenna was gone.

“How did she…?” He snatched up his boots. Haakon prided himself in sleeping light and noticing anything that went on around him. Yet his new bride had managed to sneak past him like a tiny dormouse.

He made a growling sound and finished dressing, then he stormed from the Great House, ignoring the tables still holding the remnants of the feast.

“Where is she?” he hollered at Hamish.

Hamish looked up from where he was hammering a fence around the snow-laden chicken coop.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Haakon marched up to him.

“I really don’t know.” Hamish shrugged. “I’m not lying.”

The nonchalant manner made Haakon want to thump him, but he resisted. Hitting his new wife’s brother, likely knocking out a few teeth, wouldn’t get him into her good books.

“You must have an idea,” he snarled.

“She sets traps, down by the river. Likely, she has gone to check on them.”

“She goes out alone? And you let her? A woman from these lands?”

“She is a determined woman with many skills honed in these forests.” Hamish’s jaw tightened. “And likely, she wanted to clear her head after a night with you.”

Haakon balled his fists. “And where is my sister?”

“It is not my job to keep track of everyone in the village.” Hamish turned and banged a nail with his hammer, sending snow skittering from the wooden fence.

Haakon scowled at Hamish’s broad back then checked his dagger was on his belt. It was. There was only one thing for it. He’d have to find his wife himself.

Striding past Kenna’s family home, he spotted Noah. “Is your daughter in there?”

Noah looked up from feeding pigs. “No. We thought she was with you.”

Haakon gritted his teeth and made for the exit of the fort. He strode through it, his feet dipping into a layer of freshly fallen snow.

Beyond the watchtower, a few villagers tended animals and another chopped logs. He marched past them, caring for no one except Kenna.

And then he saw them, small footprints heading west toward the forest. They could only be hers, surely.

Breaking into a run, he followed them, his breath puffing in front of his face and his legs pounding.

He noticed dark clouds to the north. Likely, Thor was angry with him for being baptized. Would they all suffer his thunderous wrath or would it just be him? He ducked into the forest, still following the footprints. Tree branches were heavy with snow and a stiff breeze stirred flakes into the air. He spotted animal tracks—rabbit, squirrel, deer—and birds flitted from branch to branch.

A raven cawed up ahead and he paused, knowing that not only was Thor on the horizon, but Odin was also watching him.

“I am sorry, All Father,” he said, pushing on. He wanted to say more but didn’t know how to explain his need for Kenna superseded everything else.

Where was she?

Suddenly, he stopped. His blood ran as cold as the river running alongside him.

In the distance, a wolf howled, no doubt lamenting the lack of food this time of year. Its stomach would be rumbling, forcing it to be brave and reckless.

“Kenna!” He broke into a run, following Kenna’s tracks and also searching frantically for wolf prints. Were they stalking her?

He’d kill every damn one of them if they were.

As Haakon turned alongside a meander in the river, the footprints changed. They were scuffed and haphazard.

Quickly, he stopped and spotted a trap. It had been reset. Recently, he’d guess.

She’d been here. And not long ago.

Another wolf howl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He sprinted forward.

At his side, the river narrowed and deepened, another tributary adding to it. The water was ice blue as it crashed over menacing, hard rocks, rushing down from the mountain and frothing and crashing as it went.

The footprints ran alongside the river and were fresh. He had to have been gaining on her.

And then he saw her standing dead still, red-feathered arrow at the ready in a small bow.

He came to a halt, breathing hard and with his heart racing.

He held his breath as he spotted the pheasant she had in her aim.

What a beauty she was, and a huntress too. Everything about her intrigued him.

Suddenly, the pheasant was startled by a jumping squirrel, sending snow tumbling downward onto it.

She fired her arrow, anyway, and was still as close as he’d have been under the circumstances.

“Kenna!”

She turned, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Get away from me!”

“We should speak.”

“No!” She stepped to the right, toward the river, then down the bank to its gushing fury. She went out of view.

“Fuck! Wait!” he called, rushing to where she’d disappeared. “Please. Let’s talk.” Fear gripped him. He knew the power of water and he also knew the determination of an angry woman.

Combined…anything could happen.