Unwanted (7 page)

Rhona
felt none of that with Finn.
 
The man had already protected her from suffering such a fate.
 
And if he’d wanted to take her against her will, why offer her coin?
 
He could have had her at any time and she’d be powerless to stop him.
 

No, she wasn’t frightened of his lust.
 
It was his aversion or ridicule that caused her apprehension.
 
It mortified her that she’d told him as much.
 

Finn was the embodiment of physical perfection, and the contrast made her feel inferior.
 
No matter how she looked, she couldn’t find one flaw.
 
One
blemish
to mar his beauty.
 

Rhona
bore tiny marks on her hips and belly from where her pregnancy had stretched her skin.
 
She knew her breasts were no longer as pert and high as they’d once been.
 
Her hips were wider then when she was a young
lass
, her bottom more round.
 
She couldn’t bear for him to see and compare.

“I’ll consent to your offer on one condition.”

His grip tightened on her shoulders.
 

“You can’t light a fire, not even a candle.”

“You want it to be cold?”

“No.”
 
She took a shaky breath, hardy able to believe what she agreed to. “I want it to be dark.”
 

“Done.”
 
He sounded pleased.
 
“Though I have a few conditions of my own.

Her stomach clenched.
 
She should have known he’d have demands.
 

“Yes?”

His hands trailed from her shoulders down her arms, drawing the fur along with them, exposing bits of skin to the cold.
 

“You belong to me tonight.”
 
His voice maintained that growling timbre, as if some terrible beast lived inside of him and would take its pleasure from her, as well.
 
“You must let me have you as I wish to.”

A flurry of moths erupted within her stomach.
 
Trepidation washed over her with the force of a frigid, powerful ocean wave.
 
This was a dangerous demand, made in a dangerous tone.
 
The treachery lie within the wicked spark his words ignited within her.
 
An ember of something she didn’t understand writhed through her blood, causing her limbs to twitch restlessly.
 

Desires she couldn’t identify flooded her senses as if her soul was trying to compel her to an end she couldn’t predict.
 
And as her mind recoiled from this devil’s bargain she made, somehow her body anticipated it.

This frightened her most of all.
 

“Very well, warrior.”
 
Rhona
closed her eyes.
 
“Do with me what you will.”

***

Finn watched
Rhona’s
throat work over a swallow.
 
Her nostrils flared with quick, anxious breaths and when her eyes opened, they darted blindly about.
 

Several tense moments passed as Finn grappled with his urgent need.
 
She was now his to do with as he pleased.
 
Too many images, desires, and appetites thundered through him.
 
He stood paralyzed for fear he would fall upon her like the ravenous brute he’d just promised not to be.

“What... do you require of me?” she asked in a halting voice.

He wanted her to talk to him, to direct him to her pleasure with that husky brogue of hers.
 
He wanted to hear her moans and screams of pleasure, but he dare not wake the babe.
 
 
 

“Just stand where you are,” he commanded, letting her fur drop to the ground.
 

She let out shaky sigh when his fingers moved to the ribbon holding the front of her thin shift around her shoulders.
 
Finn could just make out the protuberance of her pink nipples against the fabric and was assaulted by another wave of lust.
 
He took a steadying breath and forced his trembling fingers to be deliberate as he pushed the shift off her shoulders and let it join the fur at her feet.
 

Finn couldn’t hold in his moan as he took in her nakedness.
 
In the entirety of his life, he’d never beheld such beauty.
 
Even in the darkness,
Rhona
covered her breasts with her arms and crossed her legs in a vain attempt to protect her modesty.
 
The shy action caused possession to scream through his veins.
 

Mine,
his Berserker demanded.

Could she be?
 

He jerked free of his clothing, unable to take his eyes off of her as he stripped and discarded his things to the chair.
 

Now there stood no barrier between her flesh and his.

She looked ripe and round and soft like a fruit ready to be plucked from a late summer tree.
 
Riotous curls framed her wide eyes and spilled down her delicate shoulders.
 
They helped her arms to hide her breasts from view.
 

Finn’s hands curled into fists as his gaze followed the indent of her waist to the dramatic
flare
of her hips and the subtle curve of her belly.
 

Her thigh blocked her sex from his view, but Finn didn’t mind.
 
He’d keep this image of her with him always to take out and savor in the lonely cold nights that dominated his life.
 

She started when he reached out and brushed her hair back, exposing a pale shoulder.
 
He circled her, breathing in her musk of spice and winter.
 
No matter what his body demanded, he couldn’t rush this.
 

And didn’t want to.
 

Rhona
had promised herself to him for the rest of the night, and he planned to siphon every last pleasure that the stormy darkness had to offer.
 

Finn reached for the curve of her waist, sliding his hand around to her back and pulled her to him.

She gasped and lifted her hands to press against his chest.

“Did I hurt you?” he whispered, allowing her to create space between them, though his mouth found the shell of her ear too irresistible not to taste and nibble.
 

“My breasts…They’re tender from the feeding.”

His abdomen flexed with a rush of desire as the words left her mouth.
 
Her breasts.
 
Full and lush with rosy nipples.
 
He ached to touch them, to test their weight in his hands and taste their sweetness with his mouth.
 
But he’d not cause her pain for the entire world.
 

“Here then.” His hands traversed her supple flesh as he continued his moist exploration of her soft lobe.
 
He could feel her skin blooming with goose pimples against his.
 
She softly pressed her head closer, letting out a trapped breath.
 

So it seemed her ear was a weakness.
 
One he planned to exploit.
 

His hands dropped from her back to shape the sweet curve of her bottom.
 
He
kneaded
it to the rhythm of the blood pounding lust through his veins.
 
Then he pulled her against him, allowing her hands to control the pressure above her waist.
 

She stiffened as his cock pushed against the soft skin of her belly, but made no noise.
 
He did his best to distract her with his mouth on her ear, her neck, the smooth skin of her shoulder.

The contact of their skin overwhelmed him.
 
The difference of her softness against his hardness.
 
Her rounded curves against his sharp angles.
 
It took his breath away and brought years of forgotten needs and desires roaring to the surface.
 

Finn had always thought of his life in uncomplicated terms.
 
Hard and cold, brutal and merciless.
 
His every triumph built upon the blood of his innumerable enemies.
 
His every defeat celebrated by those he would seek to call family.
 
His cursed beast raged inside of him, more lethal and ferocious than any other, and yet survival was an endless battle of pain surmounted only by force of will.
 

The soft creature in his arms was the antithesis of all that.
 
Her body was lush and warm.
 
Inviting and pliant.
 
Instead of seeking vicious domination, she survived only by means of enduring.
 
Her hands were clean of blood.
 
Her heart was free of vengeance.
 
And in spite of her own difficult battle for survival, she nourished the weak with all she had left to give.
 
 
 

It wasn’t only his body that ached for her, nor merely his Berserker that roared to possess her.
 
It was his stained soul that reached for the purity of spirit that pulsed within her.
 
If he could meld with that, if only for the span of a stormy Solstice eve, then perhaps he could taste that purity and carry a piece of it with him always.

The soft hitches in her breaths and restless movements told him she would respond to his mouth, but he couldn’t yet smell what he needed from her.
 

She wasn’t ready for him yet.
 

But she would be.
 
He wanted her slick and wanton, writhing and begging for him to give her release.
 
He wanted to erase the memory of any other man from her mind until he consumed her like her very scent was consuming him.
 
Somehow within the space of a few dark hours,
Rhona
had claimed a piece of him.
 

It was time to stake a claim
of his own
.
 

***

Rhona
swallowed a moan of protest when his lips left her ear.
 
The innocent attentions he’d paid her there had felt like a sin.
 
As stoic and accommodating as she planned to be, the wet play of his tongue followed by the soft scrape of his teeth on her earlobe caused a cold fire to race along the surface of her flesh.
 

She was alive with sensation, her every nerve vibrating with awareness of him.
 
His skin was warm against her body, contrasting with the wintry air.
 
The rocks of his chest pressed back against her resisting hands, the bands of muscle rippling along his torso unrelenting against her stomach.
 

And his sex pulsed like a hot brand against her belly.

It was a weapon.
 
Just as fearsome as any of the others he’d brought into her home.
 
He’d penetrate her with it, stab her.
 
Not just once or so like a sword or dagger, but many times.
 
Why, then, was he prolonging her torment with soft, wet nibbles and sensitizing caresses?
 
Why force her to stand and endure this antagonizing anticipation of his inevitable intrusion?

At least his hands were gentle.
 
Despite the rough calluses on the skin of his palms, he touched her with the utmost care.
 
It was as though he was aware that his immense strength could break her, and he focused very carefully on not doing so.

At least of that she could be grateful.
 

The feel of his hands on her backside was an intimacy she wasn’t used to.
 
Each time he cupped the pliant flesh and kneaded, cold air hit the quivering place between her legs.
 

Rhona
shuddered.
 
She’d never been much aware of that place before.
 
It caused her shame.
 
It caused her pain.
 
It brought life into this world.
 
But she’d avoided it for everything but to clean and care for.