Page 22 of Bats Out of Hell (Vikings Rock #1)

K enna blew out a breath and picked up a shield and long dagger. She stood beside Anna, ready to learn. The snow beneath them had been trampled and mixed with the earth. Patches of mud were forming.

The clouds broke apart, revealing the milky blue of a winter sky and Haakon, Gunner, Orm, Knud, and Ivar set about sharing their skills of the sword and shield with the men and women of Tillicoulty.

This was to be a daily occurrence from this point on, Haakon had declared. When chores were complete, honing warrior skills must be the priority, especially in winter months when there was less to do in the fields.

“Your husband is proving to be a fine man,” Olaf said with an approving nod when Kenna took a rest beside him.

“Which is more than I thought I’d ever agree with when he marched into our village,” Kenna replied.

“Does he treat you well?” Noah asked. “As a husband.”

“He doesn’t beat me.” She raised her eyebrows at her father. “If that is what you are asking.”

“If he beat you, I would dust off my sword and slay him down.” Noah grimaced. “I may be old, but I would always defend and protect you, even from a Norse king. Even if it meant my certain death.”

“I know, Father.” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “But there is no need. He treats me as if I am one of his goddesses. Whatever I want, he provides. At all times, he looks to see how he can make me more comfortable, happier, and…”

“And?” Olaf asked, leaning in, curiosity sparkling in his old eyes.

“He treats me as an equal. He takes notice of what I say, seeks my counsel on matters, and appreciates my skills.”

“Their women are different to ours. Look at his sister.” Noah nodded thoughtfully. “How she was. How she acted as though she were invincible, immortal, even.”

“And I like that they treat women differently,” Kenna said. “I am more to my husband than a broodmare. I am my own person.”

Noah nodded slowly and bit on his bottom lip.

“It is unusual, indeed,” Olaf said. “And we must accept that it is God’s will that he came upon our shores.”

“God works in mysterious ways. Ways we can never hope to understand,” Kenna said with a smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change from these clothes. Rolling in the dirt and dodging Orm’s sword has rendered me filthy.”

“I’m glad that was a wooden sword,” Noah said. “He didn’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t want him to.” Kenna glanced at where Orm was now teaching Caitlin, a curly-haired, freckled fisherman’s daughter, how to swing her sword to block his. “For we all need to be ready. When we are attacked everyone will have a role to play.”

“Aye, it is a when , not an if .” Noah sighed. “King Athol will be most aggrieved not to receive taxes from us. It is how it has always been.”

“How it has always been has changed,” Kenna said. “Now the Vikings are here.”

Kenna walked back under the watchtower and was greeted by Lass. She stroked her head and tickled her chin. “Go to Mother,” she said. “I hear she is cooking chicken.”

Lass reacted to the word chicken as she always did, her ears pricking up and her tongue coming out.

“Go,” Kenna said with a laugh. “And find yourself some food.”

Lass barked once then ran off in the direction of what used to be Kenna’s home.

Now the Great House was where she lived and she was glad for it. Her legs were weary and her hair sticky with mud. She pulled a dry leaf from her bangs as she approached. The weak sun had warmed her shoulders, but not enough to warm her bones, and a sudden longing to bathe came over her.

Aye, she’d warm some water over the fire and use the large barrel Haakon had sawed in half to bathe in. He bathed often, changed his clothes regularly, and often smelled of his chestnut soap. He’d also made her a skin moisturizer out of wool-fat, butter, and rosemary oil. It smelled divine and she was keen to use it again.

Her bedchamber was quiet and the fire had nearly burnt out. Quickly, she stoked it then put a large pail of water over the growing flames.

She glanced at the corner. The owl was asleep. A small fluffy ball hunched in the shadows. He was a sign of good fortune, she was sure of it, watching over them and guiding prosperity their way.

After dragging the half-barrel before the fire, she stripped off her clothes. They’d need a good wash. Or perhaps she’d put them aside ready for tomorrow’s training; they would only get dirty again.

As the water heated, she poured ale and took a sip. It slipped down her gullet and she traced her naked flesh with the tip of her finger. The cool air had tightened her nipples and she thought of how Haakon suckled them into his mouth when they lay together, how he licked and flicked them and had her moaning for more.

Never in all her life had she expected her wifely duties to be so thrilling, so all-consuming. Never would she have thought she’d be so satisfied after taking her husband’s cock. It was a wonderful, complete feeling that went to every corner of her body. A far cry from the pain and humiliation she’d been expecting.

Were all men as skilled as Haakon when it came to bedding or was it just her husband? If the latter, she was very lucky.

She poured the steaming water into the barrel and put more on to heat. She then added a few drops of the slick rosemary oil. It beaded on the surface and she stirred it to dissipate the rich, aromatic scent.

Had her mother had the same experience with her father? Kenna couldn’t imagine it. Did Hamish know it would be like this when he took a wife? Would he know what to do by instinct?

And would Bryce have given her the same breath-stealing climaxes if she’d eventually taken him as her husband?

She didn’t think so.

Eventually, the barrel was over half full with warm, steaming water. Outside, a skein of geese flew overhead, honking as they went, announcing the daylight hours were drawing to an end.

She dipped her toe into the hot water, paused for a moment to ensure it wouldn’t scald her, then gingerly stepped in. With her hands on the sides of the barrel, she sat, her eyes on the flames dancing in the grate.

How decadent it was to bathe like this. In the summer, she and her mother would go to the stream once a week, and in the winter, more often than not, it was a quick splash with a bowl of water.

But this…this Viking way of bathing was luxurious.

Once seated, she slowly scooted down, letting the water seep around her, into her, and up her back. She half-lay, half-sat, her nipples peeking from the water.

“Ah, this is a gift from God,” she murmured as she closed her eyes. The heat penetrated right to her core, the water a balm on her aching muscles.

“No, it is a gift from me.”

“What? I…” She opened her eyes.

Haakon stood in the doorway, his shoulders just about touching each side and his head slightly ducked.

“The bathing barrel,” he said, stepping into the room. “I knew you would like it.”

“I thought you had it made for yourself.”

“What’s mine is yours.” He shrugged off his fur and tossed it over a chair. “You can have anything of mine you desire.”

“You have already given me more than I ever thought you could.”

“‘Could’ or ‘would’?” He walked to the table and took a drink of ale.

“Could.” She studied the way his inked throat moved as he drank.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled up his right sleeve and came and kneeled by the barrel. “Do you have it nice and hot?”

“Aye.”

He dipped his hand in. “Mm, it is a good way to warm up after a day on a battlefield.”

“Do you think the village men will be able to defend Tillicoulty?”

“ Ja , they are strong and determined. With practice, they will become warriors to be proud of.”

“I hope so.”

“They will. They have the best teacher.” He shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows. “One thing I worry about is your lack of modesty, husband of mine.”

He laughed softly. “Oh, I know I am good at everything I put my mind to.” He ran his hand through the water, creating soft ripples.

He had a streak of mud on his right cheek and his nose was a little red from the cold day. He was watching her as intensely as she was looking at him.

His knuckles brushed her hip and then the outer edge of her thigh.

She hitched in a breath, her nipples poking further from the water.

He stroked down to her ankle then up again, over the curve of her hip to her waist and then over her belly.

Everywhere he touched left a heated trail of desire.

“Your wet skin is making me hard,” he murmured. “You are like silk.” His attention slipped to her pinched nipples. “You are like the mermaid on the famed mermaid axe.”

“‘Mermaid axe’?” she whispered.

He smiled, tension from his features slipping. “Legend has it that Bjorn the Bold was seafaring one day and—”

“Who is he? An ancestor of yours?”

“My father says that he is.” He tipped his head and continued. “Bjorn came across a group of mermaids trapped upon the rocks. They were being attacked by a terrible serpent. He came to their rescue, slaying the serpent and clearing their way back to the ocean. The mermaids were so grateful, they gifted Bjorn an axe, the handle shaped as a beautiful woman with a fish tail and the blade magically infused with materials from land and sea, meaning it would never need to be sharpened.”

“What an incredible axe, and Bjorn sounds like a compassionate man to have saved them.”

“He was.” Haakon skimmed his fingertips over her nipples, the water gently splashing. “He was valiant and skilled and—”

“And…?”

“And legend has it he had five wives and over twenty children.”

Her eyes widened. “That is a lot of wives.”

“You should also know…” he said softly as he ran his fingertips back under the water and to her navel. “That I only ever wish to have one wife.”

She trembled as he dipped his fingers lower, toward the juncture of her thighs. Small ripples tapped over the surface of the water and she curled her toes.

“One wife whom I can kiss and touch and pleasure,” Haakon said softly. “One wife for whom I will forsake all others.”

He slipped his fingertip between her legs, smoothing over her soft, wet flesh.

“Oh…but…” Her mouth fell open. What was he expecting of her? Shouldn’t they go to the bed?

“Shh.” He smiled. “I want to touch you. I want to watch you.”

“‘Watch’ me?”

“I want to watch you find pleasure.” He swirled his fingertip over her nub.

She tensed. “Oh…”

“It’s just here you like it, ja ?”

She bit on her bottom lip and nodded. Her pussy tensed and her heart rate picked up as she parted her thighs.

“And there is no rush. We have all night.” He swirled lazily. “You should relax and know that I am enjoying this even more than you are.”

“Haakon,” she gasped. “Surely, this is wrong in the eyes of—”

“How can it be wrong? We are married.” He slipped lower and curled the tips of his fingers into her pliant, wet entrance. “And I’m sure Adam and Eve spent many days naked and seeking pleasure.”

“Oh…but you can’t say things like that…and…oh…Haakon.” She closed her eyes, thoughts of Bible stories evaporating. “Aye, just there…oh…”

He’d entered her with two fingers and the heel of his hand had caught over her bud.

“Like this?” He rocked his hand, fingering her and stimulating her nub. “Is that where you need it?”

“Aye.” She groaned, let her head fall back, and gripped the side of the bath.

“Think only of my touch,” he murmured, still working her. “Nothing else exists.”

She rocked gently with his movements. The pressure in her pussy was growing and she let her legs fall open until her knees touched the barrel.

His hand was hard on her, but not hard enough, and after a few minutes, she reached down and gripped his solid forearm.

“You want more?”

She opened her eyes and nodded.

The right side of his mouth tipped into a smile and a tendon flexed in his cheek. His eyes glinted with the light of the fire’s reflection on the water.

“I did promise to give you everything I could.” He added another finger into her pussy and pressed firmer on her nub.

“Oh…please…” She gripped him tighter. “Give it to me.”

He moved into her again, over her, crushing her bud.

She whimpered in pleasure, the seeds of her climax now having come to life and growing strong. “Don’t stop.”

“Not until you tell me to.” He stared into her eyes. “Not until you tell me.”

She lifted her hips, mimicking the way she rubbed against him when his cock was deep inside of her. It was good with his hand, his fingers. Soon, she’d reach that pinnacle of pleasure.

Water splashed over the bath, her back arched, and her nipples were as tight pebbles. She’d given up on any type of composure or control of her facial expressions. The need for orgasm had her in its grip. She was greedy for it.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said. “Cum for me like this. I want to see and feel you cum.”

“I am…oh… Haakon…I…” She had no breath left to speak with. It was trapped in her lungs like a great, big ball of pressure. The erotic explosion was about to detonate and there was nothing that could stop it.

She pushed up her hips and cried out, a great, long wail of sound that matched the intense push of release that jerked her body almost from the water.

Haakon stayed with her, pumping his fingers into her, bashing up against her nub even, as she bucked and writhed as though possessed by some demon.

She cried out again and curled forward, opening her eyes. She could make out the fuzzy image of his wrist between her legs, his movements agitating the surface of the water.

“Oh…it’s so much…” Her pussy was gripping his fingers as though it had a life of its own. Hard, little spasms that pulsed through her body and tightened all of her muscles.

“You are so giving and beautiful,” he said hoarsely as he finally slowed. “And so responsive to my touch.”

“It’s…hard not…to be responsive.” She was battling for breath. “When you do that.”

He smiled, a big, wide grin that balled his cheeks. “I could touch you like this forever.”

She reached for him, cupped his face, and kissed him. Her heart was beating wildly, a drum beat in her ears, and she was trembling as bliss winged through her veins.

How lucky she was that her husband was an ancestor of Bjorn the Bold and so very skilled at pleasing his woman.