Sirens - The Gripping Beast Part 17

He turned her, tugged her underneath him and lowered himself over her, trapping her. "And if I did?"

She slipped her legs around his waist, hugging him to her since her arms weren't free. "I think we both know that's a lost cause. Don't tease me, Erik."

"Teasing is not what I intend." And then he was hard and demanding and thrusting into her again.

Much, much later, Erik looked at his sleeping slave and wondered at the savagery she aroused in him.

He'd taken her repeatedly, wanting to subdue her. He had not been gentle, driven by his fierce need to conquer and possess her.

And she had taken him each time, welcoming him with soft cries and sweet heat, not complaining even though he knew she must be tiring. The last time, he had held her face between his hands and watched her eyes as he filled her. She should have ached from his demands, but still her eyes glowed with desire and she'd moved under him readily, needing him as fiercely as he needed her.

"I love you," she'd said.

He touched her mouth, swollen and bruised from the savagery of his kisses. She sighed at his touch and Erik gathered her gently into the circle of his arms, needing to hold her close and keep her safe.

He cradled her against himself, stroking the silk of her skin and sending her into a deeper sleep. Small and trusting, she curled into him with a soft sound of pleasure.

It was unlike him to use a woman so roughly. He was no abuser of women, no rapist, no unskilled lover. Yet somehow she drove him to a level of wanting that had allowed him no gentleness and a ferocity of need that drove him to take her and take her long after he'd spent himself, until his pleasure came with no liquid release.

It was almost as if some deep, primitive part of himself needed to mate and mate without ceasing until he could be sure of impregnating her with his seed. As if he needed that total possession of her, that even her womb must belong to him, must swell with his seed.

At the thought, a fierce gladness welled up inside him.

He wanted to make her utterly, completely, undeniably his.

He wanted to know that his child nestled in the depths of her woman's body, shielded and nurtured by her.

Following his thoughts, he caressed her belly, laying his open palm against the slight swell. He had taken her so often that even now it was very likely that life quickened beneath his hand.

Cupping one breast with his other hand, he tested the soft weight in his palm. She was small, but round and womanly. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s would nurture his babe readily.

He stroked the rosy nipple, thinking of a tiny mouth drawing on it.

And what status would their child hold? Freeborn or slave? There was a third answer to their dilemma. If he made her his wife, she would be free and yet bound to him and under his protection. She had vowed her love for him. If she loved him, she would stay. He could protect her. His woman and any children they were gifted with would be his to care for, and his sword and his strength would keep them from harm.

Lorelei stirred at the touch, beginning to wake. "Erik?"

He folded her closer, releasing her breast and brushing a tender kiss across her brow. "Sh. Sleep, my sweet."

She yawned, her eyes still closed. "I thought you wanted me..." she murmured with drowsy languor.

"I always want you," he whispered, kissing her mouth as softly as the brush of a b.u.t.terfly's wings. "Sleep, now."

She gave a small smile at his words. "Always want you, too," she sighed.

He cuddled her as she slipped back into sleep, stroking the tangled silk of her hair, feeling a deep peace and content steal over him.

His woman, in his arms, where she belonged. She had given herself to him, admitted that she was his. That she loved him. He stroked her stomach again with gentle fingers, thinking of the future and what it might hold.

She was so proud, so defiant, his woman. Yet she had ceased to deny the bond between them. No matter how often he might anger her, he had no fear she would seek divorce. She had admitted that she was his woman in truth. And when any two of equal pride and strength came together, they were sure to drive each other to anger as easily as they drove each other to l.u.s.t.

Marry her. Why not?

He considered the idea as he held her sleeping form.

She admitted she belonged to him. She had surrendered herself to him, again and again. That had been difficult for her, he knew. She had the pride of a Viking as surely as if Danish blood ran in her veins.

She would see that marriage benefited them both. And then there was the possibility that they had made a child between them already. The future status of their children must be secured. Even his fierce, proud slave could not deny that.

Slowly, his hand caressed her softly curved belly again.

Determined, Erik brushed another kiss across her sleeping face and settled the fur over her. He wondered if she had noticed that he had kept the lynx skin she preferred. He would make her a gift of it, he decided. Fine new silks, velvet and wool for gowns would please her, also. And jewels. His beautiful woman deserved a gift that would complement her rare loveliness. Emeralds to match her eyes, if any mere stone could.

Thinking of how he treasured her, how he would cherish her, he kissed her again and slept deeply, holding his woman close.

Chapter Thirteen.

Lorelei woke in stages, feeling as if she lay wrapped in layers of clouds. Hazy, vague and not quite real. Tentatively, she stretched and extended a leg and discovered that some things were very real.

"Ouch."

The soft complaint escaped her as she became all too aware of sore, aching thighs. And b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And arms, and...she gasped and clapped a protective hand over her most abused, throbbing ache. Right between her thighs.

Then she realized her hands had been cut loose some time during the wild interlude. She guessed he'd been safe enough on that count. She was in no condition to run anywhere. Not that she would want to. She'd been exactly where she wanted to be and she had made her point with every screaming o.r.g.a.s.m. Or maybe he'd made his point, there.

How dumb she'd been to fight a losing battle for so long, when all it took was unconditional surrender to win the war. Erik loved her. She knew it to the depths of her soul. He might never say the words, but he had shown her what she meant to him all through the night.

Although just now she felt every aching muscle she'd exerted waking up to complain about how thoroughly she'd overdone it. Well, that was his fault. If he hadn't been so insatiable and she hadn't been so turned on by that, she wouldn't be in this condition. Since it was his fault, she reasoned, she wanted him to soothe her. "Erik?"

Answer came in the form of a gentle hand stroking her hair back. She turned her face into it and kissed his palm. "Erik, I hurt," she whispered. "Make it stop."

"And how will I do that with you calling to me and kissing me?" Erik asked wryly.

"I don't know, but you're a resourceful kind of guy. You'll think of something," she a.s.sured him with blithe confidence. "I'm so sore," she added.

"Were there two of you in this bed?"

He laughed at her outrageous question and scooped her up in his arms. "You give me the vigor of a hundred men," he teased.

"That many? Oh, dear." She sighed in mock dismay and snuggled into his embrace, looping her arms around his neck and rubbing her cheek against the smooth muscled wall of his chest.

"Or a thousand," he mused as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushed his chest and arms.

She giggled, a bright, happy sound. "I'll be happy to satisfy you a thousand times. But not just now. I hurt too much." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "What time is it?" Lorelei asked.

"Night."

"No way. It's broad daylight," she protested.

"Night," he said again. "Remember you are in the North now. Be glad I'm feeling indulgent, you lazy slave. You've slept the day away."

"Mm," she agreed. "I was exhausted by a hundred men. Or was it a thousand?"

He hugged her so tightly that her ribs creaked. "Foolish woman. Praise my manly vigor any longer and you will find yourself on your back growing sorer still."

He carried her to a tub of water and lowered her into it.

"Nice," Lorelei commented, smiling up at him as the soothing heat closed around her.

"I knew you would wake soon," he answered, bending to kiss her mouth and each breast in turn. "I ordered water kept hot for you. My poor little slave, made to satisfy the l.u.s.t of a hundred men. You must ache in truth."

"I do," she a.s.sured him. "And you forgot to kiss where it hurts most."

"I did?"

"You did."

He needed no urging to lift her naked form, water streaming over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and belly in gleaming rivulets. "Where?" Erik asked, a light of devilment glinting in his eyes.

She touched a fingertip to the triangle of dark curls that grew between her legs. "Here."

"Ah." He kissed the soft curls. "Better?"

She shook her head slowly, feeling heat flooding her at the sensual game. "Lower."

His mouth moved down a fraction of an inch, obliging. Then he looked at her again. "Like that?"

"No." Her breathing quickened, Lorelei wet dry lips with her tongue and said huskily, "Lower."

He did, kissing her abused flesh with infinite tenderness, laving her raw ache with the soothing touch of his tongue.

A low groan escaped her. "Erik. Erik."

"Shh," he murmured, lowering her back into the water. "Stay in there, sweet woman, or I may slake my l.u.s.t on you so thoroughly that you may never walk right again."

She giggled at the loving threat. "What a terrible fate."

She subsided into the tub, happy to let him care for her. He washed her with gentle, thorough hands. He lifted her out and dried her with soft cloths, then held her on his lap while he worked the tangles from her hair with a carved comb.

It was wonderful to be held like that, to be cared for like a child. She snuggled into him, hugging him close while he combed through the length of her hair in patient, slow strokes.

"Careful, woman," he murmured as her nipples rubbed against his chest, teased into hardness by the contact. "You will find yourself serving my l.u.s.t once more, and I do not think you would enjoy it so much."

She grimaced at the truth of that statement. "Well, how long does it take to recover?" she demanded.

"Patience," he teased. He finished combing her hair and rocked with her in his arms for a moment. "Woman, you please me more than I can say."

"Good." Smug satisfaction sounded in her voice. "You please me, too."

"I know."

"How do you know?" She glared up at him in challenge, eyes narrowed.

Another rumbling laugh came from him at that question. "How do I know? Freya, I laid you five times this day and each time you were as ready and eager as the first. Think you I cannot tell that I please you?"

She considered that briefly. "Hmm. You have a point." She subsided, snuggling back into the curve of his neck. "Erik, I love you."

He nodded, resigned. "Now do I know you are my woman. You vow your anger to me one moment and your love the next."

"That isn't funny."

"Hush." His grasp tightened briefly and his lips moved over her temple. "Sweet, you had reason to be angry with me. It pleases me that you would lay aside your anger and come to my bed."

"Huh." Grumpily, she stared up at him. "You make it sound even worse than it is, somehow. You'll get me kicked out of every progressive women's movement from here to the twenty-first century," Lorelei complained.

"Cease your jesting. I wish to show you the rewards that await an obedient slave who pleases her master."

"Oh?" Questions showed in her eyes.

For an answer, Erik lifted her again and carried her to the bed, lowering her onto the silky fur. "Does this lynx skin please you?" he asked, brushing her nude body against the luxurious pelt.

"Yes," she whispered, looking at him with awakening desire.

"Then it pleases me to make a gift of it to you," he told her.

A small smile stole over her face. "Really? All that great s.e.x and I get presents, too?"

He gave a mock sigh of regret. "Already she grows more greedy for my goods than for my manly form," he complained to the chamber. "Yes, you get many gifts this night. You pleased me, Lorelei," he stated with soft seriousness.

She grinned up at him.,"Tell me about my other presents."

"A fortune in fabrics." He scowled at her ferociously. "But I may think better of it and keep you as you are. I like my slave naked."

"I like it, too. But I understand winter is really cold," Lorelei suggested with hopefully slave-like meekness.

"I could warm you."

He made the offer generously, lowering his weight over her to sear her with his heat.

"Erik," she sighed, hugging him close. "You are so wonderfully warm."

"Yes," he agreed, weaving his hands into her hair. "But I suppose you must leave my chamber sometime or the tales of the helpless slave woman that I ravish while she screams in pain and terror will spread like plague and I will be forced to endure many curious visits from my neighbors."