He stripped her shift away until Breanne was naked beneath him. If she didn’t speak, if she didn’t stop him, he would claim her. And by the gods, she desired this man.
His hand moved between her legs, parting them. When he touched her intimately, fear shot through her, even as her body craved him. Panic rose within her, for she was losing control of herself. Now that she was facing the loss of her virginity, she wasn’t certain it was the right choice.
She wanted to tell him to wait, but before she could speak, he slid a finger inside her. She was so wet, so deeply aroused, it made it hard to breathe. Intense pleasure flooded through her, and a moan broke forth from her lips as he used his touch to caress her. Her mind and heart warred with one another, and her fears transformed.
‘Alarr,’ she breathed. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.
He misunderstood her and spoke against her lips. ‘I warned you that this wasn’t safe. When you offer yourself to me, I will take everything you give.’ His mouth returned to her other breast, and as his tongue swirled over her nipple, he penetrated her with his finger. Slowly, he entered and withdrew, adding a second finger as he stroked.
The pleasure was blinding. He was taking her higher, and she felt her body straining for release. Before she could plead again, a shuddering wave broke over her, and she arched hard, trembling with a violent eruption. She was shaking so badly she could not gather a clear thought.
‘You don’t want a man like me inside you, Breanne.’
His claim held a darkness, and she was too weak to make a reply. Instead, she closed her eyes and looked away. She was not ready to offer herself—not even in exchange for her father’s life.
A moment later, Alarr stood and straightened his clothing. And then he left without another word.
Alarr slept in another longhouse that night. He had given in to his desires, fully expecting Breanne to push him away. And yet, she had only welcomed him. She was on the brink of surrender, and the intimacy had only drawn them closer. Her body was made for his, and he had revelled in the delight of touching her, of bringing her to fulfilment.
But it was not at all what he’d intended. He had planned to take her to the brink of lovemaking, just far enough to frighten her into keeping her distance. But instead of refusing him, she had responded openly to his touch. By the gods, he’d had no choice but to leave. If he had dared to sleep beside Breanne, he would not have been able to stop himself from claiming her. She would have enjoyed it—of that he was certain. And so would he.
She is your hostage, his brain reminded him. Yours to do with as you wish.
And would it not be an even greater vengeance against Feann, if Alarr claimed the virginity of his foster daughter? What if he became her lover, spending each night in her arms? The idea took root and grew. He was torn between the primal needs and his own sense of honour.
The morning sky was tinted rose and grey as he walked towards the healer’s hut. Alarr went to visit with Rurik but found that his brother was still sleeping. The healer sat beside him, and she murmured, ‘I gave him medicine last night and again this morn. The cut upon his arm was not the only wound.’
He saw that his brother’s ribs were bound up and said to the old woman, ‘My thanks for tending him.’
She smiled and stepped back from the herbs she had been crushing with a mortar and pestle. ‘I will leave you alone with him for a moment. Though it is unlikely he will awaken after he drank the sleeping potion.’
Alarr was grateful for the privacy. In the dim light of the fire, he saw the profile of his sleeping brother. Regret filled up within him that Rurik had tried to stop him from his vengeance against Feann. Worse, he knew it was because his brother believed he would die. Rurik had no faith in his ability to fight—and was that any wonder? Even when he had tried to rescue Breanne, he had stumbled several times. Had she not intervened, he might not have won the fight.
That knowledge grated upon him still. It didn’t matter that he had trained and struggled to improve his fighting abilities over the last year. His body was permanently maimed, and he would never again be the same.
When Breanne had thanked him for saving her, he had sensed her sympathy—but that wasn’t what he’d wanted at all. He had welcomed her kiss, and nothing had pleased him more than to watch her come apart. In that moment, he had become a conqueror, wanting her to desire him as much as he craved her.
Not only was she a beautiful woman, but she had courage. When she had been attacked by Oisin, he’d been overcome by fury. He didn’t want any man touching her. He had grown accustomed to waking beside her, and if their circumstances had been different, he might have considered keeping her with him as more than a hostage.
He could not stop thinking of her. What if he did seduce her into sharing his bed? She could remain with him for the next few days while he satiated his craving for her. The hunger for her body, the need to quench his desire, was
