fought in the three island war with this blade. He never lost a battle.”
“Neither did you in the pits.”
He set his arm around her shoulders, turning her to face the stairs. “But I needed no sword to win. We may yet need it to escape.” She felt his warm breath on her neck before he kissed her there once more, Then, he pushed her forth, and they started for the stairs.
“What about the rest of us?” a prisoner asked.
The keys jingled when they landed on the ground in the prisoner’s cell. “You be their hero and free them all,” Gunnar said. “Peace be with you and the men you send home.”
“The guards…” Hessa began when they reached the last step.
“Distract them.” He was sturdy when she leaned back and felt his body there, bracing her. His scent was like nothing she had ever known, exotic, manly, and wild. “The storm will hide us.”
“They’ve been drinking.” She felt hopeful. Maybe they could escape easily enough. As they started through the line of cells toward the door, she realized their mistake. The prisoners from the lower reaches were trampling up from behind.
Gunnar grabbed Hessa’s shoulders and pulled her aside before they could be run over. One by one, the prisoner with the keys unlocked each cell, freeing more, until they became a mob of angry men ready to flee. As one the crowd moved to the door, some so badly wounded that they left trails of blood across the ground. Hessa wanted to melt against Gunnar, to hide in the safety of his arms which enclosed her and held her steady.
“We wait,” he said against her ear, his voice low and calming. “They are our distraction.”
As they stood in the shadows, the hoards of prisoners rushed the exit. The guards were little match for men who had been forced to fight man and beast in the pits. A scream rose over the din and was silenced soon after. The men ran out, leaving Hessa and Gunnar holding hands and waiting to be sure it was safe to make their way out.
The storm outside pounded the roof. Gunnar started forth, pulling Hessa at his side. She wanted to wait a little longer, but he left her no choice as he rushed forth. Rain slapped against them at the door. The two guards were prone on the muddied earth, their faces downturned and their necks at odd angles to their bodies. She shook her head and tried not to look back.
“Your room,” he said. “Take me there first. It’s best to let the others escape and then wait until they chase after them.”
“My room,” she repeated, thinking of the dreams she had of him, of how those torrid dreams had made her wake lusty and heated. She motioned him in the direction of the servant quarters. ‘This way.”
They traveled along the edge of the cell building and ducked into the darkness of an alley. His long strides kept him close to her despite her trying to sprint along. At the end of the alley, he tugged her backwards and pulled her up into his arms. “No matter what happens,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you for this chance. A man is not a man unless he can be free.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her hard, stealing her breath. Then they were on the move again, Hessa leading him to the modest room she had spent most of her uneventful life in. As she opened the door and stepped into the darkness, she wondered if this would be the last time she came to this place.
Gunnar had to duck his head to pass inside. Hessa looked back at him as she lit the tallow candle to illuminate her allotted space. He shut the door and set his sword across the two bars to lock it from the outside world.
Water dripped from his chin. Droplets clung to his face. “Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” she asked, her mind turning over the idea of what it would be like to lick every last tear of rain from his skin.
“I’m not sure, but that’s the way of life.” He shrugged and ran his hands through his wet hair. “Being stolen has taught me that everything is uncertain, that every moment must be seized for its full potential.” He licked his lips and wiped his hand across his face.
She backed to her tiny cot, reached behind her, and found her drying sheet on the bedside stand. Hessa offered it to him. Now that he was here in her small space, she realized just how gigantic he was. He took the fabric and unfolded it, hunger in his eyes.
“You are my lady now.” He came forward and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “I will care for you for the rest of my days.” He dried her neck and tugged at the laces on her clothes. Her shift fell away. Gunnar patted her shoulders, following the cloth with his lips.
She closed her eyes. Every gentle stroke of fabric across her cool, moist skin brought her a feeling of peace and bliss. Each well placed kiss let her believe that someone could love her and want her. He dried her entire body, at some times brushing his bare cheek across her skin, but mostly kissing her until she stood naked and pleasantly warmed from his attentions. Only then did he strip away the loincloth he wore to reveal not only his arousal, but intricate tattoo work across his hips.
“The mark of my family,” he explained. Gunnar touched the brand on Hessa’s neck and traced it with his fingers. “If you want it, I can make my mark upon you as well. It will tell the world that you are of my clan, not of this Omi House that keeps slaves.”
She nodded. If the mark of the Omi was gone from her body or changed enough that no one could know she belonged to them, then she could be free. She could leave this place and go anywhere in Radaeh. “Will it hurt?”
“I will make it gently.” He smiled at her and ran the drying cloth over his body. “When we leave this city, I will mix the dyes and find a needle to change what they have done to you.”
She shivered with anticipation and hope. He took up the blanket from her cot and wrapped it around her. “Sleep in my arms for a time, Hessa. I’ve longed to hold you close to me.” He pulled her down onto the cot, curling his massive body against hers until she was enclosed in his strong arms and cradled by his heat and strength. His lips brushed her forehead. “When we reach Chalois I’ll take you to the islands, show you all the wonders of my homeland. The wind will know you are mine when I sing its name.”
She breathed in time with him until she slipped into dreams of water that spread across the horizon as far as she could see. There would be great monsters in the sea she rode upon. But his ship would keep her safe. He would protect her from anything that might do her harm.
Gunnar’s warm fingers trailed across her skin when a hint of sunlight began to light up Hessa’s small room. She lay still and kept silent, curious to discover what he would do to her. He drew symbols over her abdomen, circled her navel, and dipped lower to curl his fingers into the hairs at the apex of her legs. He massaged her body with slow strokes and began to hum. His low voice was beside her ear, his lips soft against the lobe. She arched her back when his fingers dipped lower to slip into her slit. Moisture pooled there, guiding his seduction. She moaned when his index finger brushed over her clit, firing off her nerves.
He groaned in her hair and stopped humming. His teeth nipped at her earlobe. Gunnar’s tongue darted out to tease and tickle her skin. “It is a beautiful morning,” he whispered. “To wake alongside your body.”
Goose bumps prickled her skin. His words tickled even more than his tongue had. She shivered and smiled.
“My bed isn’t so cold with you in it.”
He laughed softly. “Nor does it have as much room now.”
His fingers rubbed a little faster, slipping up and down over her hardening nub. She squirmed. He pressed against her ass, his cock demanding at her backside. He nibbled her neck, kissing and sucking until she closed her eyes and gave in to whatever he would do. Her body became tense, hot, as if she had a fever. Hessa did her best to hold still, to concentrate on the rush of sensations placating her womanhood. He pushed his other hand between their bodies, between her legs and tested her opening.
She whimpered.
He slid one finger into her tight wetness. She thought it felt so huge inside of her, motionless, filling her up as she had never been. His other hand continued to tease and torture her. With a shuddering cry that forced her to bite at her bottom lip, she felt everything inside of her implode. A wave of pulses shot off in her womb, ticklish to the point of being unbearable, but so pleasurable she lost herself in the bliss of it all.
The finger inside her pushed in even further, then tapped at her insides. Another wave of sensations swept through her. She clenched her teeth and held her breath. She knew she must be quiet. If anyone heard her, they
