Sirens - The Gripping Beast Part 2

He didn't notice when his brother and the crew, trailing behind them, followed suit. He didn't know they took up his roar of rage and charged into the fight at his lead.

He only knew he would kill every man standing who saw what he wanted for himself alone.

The hapless slave trader might never know what provoked the Vikings to charge down on him, but he demonstrated an instinct for self-protection as he thrust the woman between his own body and the crazed Norse giant ready to cleave him with a sword.

Through a red haze of fury, Erik caught the woman around her waist and yanked her against his side as he thrust the point of his sword against the coward's throat. Then a thread of sanity returned and stayed his arm.

He could not start a bloodbath in the trade port.

He could not set such a terrible example for Harold. As it was, he cursed inwardly at the sight of his delighted sibling exchanging blows with a burly Moor. And his men. They lived in adjoining farmsteads. They looked to his father for leadership, and expected him to prove himself a worthy leader.

He would not lead them into lawlessness. The days of going Viking were in the past. With the establishment of the Danelaw and the treaty with Alfred of Wess.e.x, as well as the settlement in Normandy by conquering raiders, peaceful trade replaced plundering as a means for gaining wealth.

Decided, Erik flipped a silver coin in the air and slashed sideways with his sword.

The halved coin fell at the slaver's feet. He felt at his throat as if checking to be certain it was intact before he reached down for the coin.

"Half," Erik grated out in rough Arabic.

"All," the man returned slyly, glancing around. "I'll need to replace the girl. Do you think I can make an honest living in this way?"

It was the wrong tactic. A flash of the ornate sword hacked the coin again and left one quarter lying in the dirt. The rest he handed to Harold. "The bargain is done," he stated, holding the cowardly little man's eyes.

Defeated, the man nodded.

Erik scanned the crowd gathered around the fighters with equal directness. There were no challenges. They'd witnessed the bargain struck.

Satisfied, he turned and strode to the tent displaying the flat gla.s.s oblongs and pointed at them. "I want some of these," he informed Harold, speaking Norse once more. "Take care of it and deliver them to the ship."

Then he left the Egyptian merchant facing the band of Vikings and made for his longboat with the woman under his arm like an unwieldy package.

Shaking with reaction, Lorelei pounded one fist on the big man's chest. "Stop. Wait," she wheezed out. "Did the director yell 'cut'?"

The man halted and looked down at her with a face so expressionless she wondered if he'd understood a word she said.

With a face that handsome, she guessed he could get away with failing to understand quite a bit. But something about the lines of character in his face and the deep blue of his eyes hinted at intelligence.

"This has to be a set," Lorelei babbled on. "I didn't see any barricades to mark it off and n.o.body asked me to sign a release form, but what other explanation is there? I mean, somebody's doing a remake of The Vikings, right? Kevin Costner is around here somewhere with a sword."

She stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not supposed to be here. I have a concert to do. I don't belong here. There's been some kind of mistake."

Maybe if she just closed her eyes, it would go away and she'd be back in her dressing room. Yes, that was definitely it. She'd just keep them closed another minute.

She reopened her eyes and met his again. Lorelei groped along his broad chest with both hands, then pinched him. He scowled at her in reaction.

"Sorry. I just wanted to see if you're real." She looked wildly around at the unfamiliar sea of faces and wondered if any of this was for real.

It couldn't be.

It couldn't be, so it wasn't, Lorelei decided.

She was hallucinating the whole thing. Even so, she ought to thank the man who'd come to her rescue. He'd arrived just in time to stop that slimy creep with the rotten teeth who'd tried to rip off her dress.

She hadn't understood anything the worm had said, but some things transcended language barriers. She didn't need a translator to know what he'd been after.

Lorelei shuddered again. "That was really horrible," she mumbled to the man. "Thank you for helping me. Even if you aren't real, it was still nice of you."

She patted his muscled chest gratefully. "Good hallucination."

Her head was reeling and everything seemed to be spinning slowly around them. She had the mother of all headaches. Lorelei frowned, squinted in an effort to bring the world into focus, then closed her eyes again. Something was really wrong. With her. That was it, she realized muzzily. If she was hallucinating men with swords, she must have been drugged somehow. Although if it made her hallucinate a gorgeous man like the one holding her, it wasn't all bad.

"Drugged," she informed the man holding her up in a distant voice. "Somebody must've slipped me something. S'the only explanation. Think I'm going to faint." Then she suited actions to words.

Erik frowned at the unconscious woman in his arms. What sort of drug had the trader given her? Perhaps he'd given her something to keep her quiet during the sale and miscalculated the dosage. He could only hope she hadn't been overdosed and that she would wake soon.

If she failed to wake, Erik vowed he would return to carve the little man into pieces after all.

He lifted her more fully into the cradle of his arms and continued on his way as he replaced the disquieting thought with immovable determination. He would not lose her. Not when he had just found her. She would wake, and she would be well, and she would cease to babble like a madwoman.

Where had she come from, that she spoke Norse so oddly? He could not think of any region that spoke with such an accent. She had somewhat the look of the Celts. Perhaps she had come from Ireland and learned the language from Vikings settled there.

Erik pushed the mystery from his mind for the present. It mattered little where she came from. She belonged to him now. He cared not how she came to be in Hedeby, or why the trader had needed to drug her. He smiled faintly, remembering how she had fought in spite of it.

Well, perhaps there was no mystery there. She could not have been a slave long. Slaves had no rights, not even the right to defend themselves. She had courage. Still, she would learn to behave as she should, he decided. She would not fight him.

A pleasing image grew and filled his thoughts, an image of the woman smiling and undressing at his command in sweet submission for him alone.

The image drew a twisting knot of need in his vitals. He had gained more than he had ever expected this day. A private playmate, a respite from endless duty, a source of brightness in his days to look forward to. As his slave, her sole duty would be to please him and to fulfill his every desire. Looking down at the woman in his arms gave rise to a number of desires for her to fulfill when she recovered from her swoon. A pleasurable antic.i.p.atory glow filled him and quickened his pace.

Erik was suddenly eager to be on his way home.

The dizziness and the headache were fading, but the glaring light wasn't. Lorelei frowned and turned her face to shade it from the brightness against the warm, smooth surface pillowing her head. Better. She sighed happily, and decided not to open her eyes just yet.

She thought she still felt traces of the odd dream she'd been having. She could smell a tang of salt in the air, as if she were back in that odd seaside village with those odd people.

Movie people, she remembered. She'd been on a movie set. Must have been something Morris, her manager, had set up for her. A new music video concept, probably.

Something aimed at the global market, she guessed from the foreign languages she'd heard and the outlandish costumes. Somebody had really gone overboard, there, Lorelei thought in disapproval. Some members of the cast hadn't even bathed. In her book, that was trying a little too hard for authenticity. Method actors, probably.

She rubbed her cheek luxuriously against the warm, protective shelter from the sun's glare again and delighted in the sensation. "Mm," she sighed and snuggled closer. When had she ever woken up feeling so good, so right?

Maybe it was safe to wake up now.

Lorelei opened her eyes. And screamed.

Jackknifing off of the lap she'd been on, she leaped to her feet, her eyes still fixed on the armband that was identical to the one Dane had given her.

The one she was no longer wearing.

Only it wasn't worn and tarnished with age.

It was new.

The heavily muscled male arm, now wearing the decorative band, along with the rest of the large body Lorelei remembered from their sword-waving encounter, moved towards her and clamped a firm hand over her mouth.

"Cease."

Cooperating wasn't exactly what she felt like doing, but Lorelei cut off the scream anyway since risking scar tissue on her vocal cords didn't seem like a good idea, either.

What did the man expect, she wondered in irritation, calm? Did he think she saw sword fights every day? And what was the trick with the armband?

Cool blue eyes bore into hers and Lorelei met them with a faint nod to indicate that she understood.

Although she didn't.

She didn't understand a thing, and she'd never felt more like screaming in her life.

It obviously wasn't a movie set that she'd been on.

Then she saw the outline of sea and sky and recognized the rocking motion of the floor underneath her feet. Panic struck again as she leaped to one conclusion, then another.

She was on a ship. And she'd been kidnapped. By a bunch of guys in costume, which really made no sense.

A familiar masculine laugh caught her attention. "You see, brother? Your scowling face has her fleeing. I knew she was a woman of wit."

Lorelei swung her head in the direction the voice had come from and felt relief flood her. "Dane." Without hesitation, she tore loose from the unnerving sword-wielder and hurled herself towards the one familiar person near her. "Dane, am I ever happy to see you. But how did you get here? Am I still dreaming? Is this a Wizard of Oz kind of dream with everybody I know in it?"

He laughed uproariously and hugged her. "She likes me, I think," he informed the other man. "Perhaps she thinks you do not look enough like a Dane to suit her tastes."

Lorelei pulled back and glared at Dane. "Very funny. Cut it out, will you? I knew you were up to something with that armband." She pointed to the object in question, or rather, the pair of them, now worn by the big man who did indeed have bulging biceps-as she'd suspected, from the size of the bands.

He was even bigger than Dane. And that he lacked Dane's sense of humor was alarmingly obvious. Without the familiar teasing expression to soften his harsh features or the warmth of laughter in his hard gaze, he looked like an older, colder nightmare version of her friend.

Lorelei shivered, suddenly aware of her slight size in comparison.

The man could snap her in half like a twig. And he looked like he wanted to.

Great going, she groaned silently. You had to get s.n.a.t.c.hed by Attila the Hunk. Probably some crazy survivalist fanatic, judging by the sword he wore and his readiness to use it.

"What do you want with me?" Lorelei demanded. "Shouldn't you be out building bomb shelters or something?" Too late, she realized she probably shouldn't be antagonizing the man who was obviously the leader and whose good will her life just might depend on.

They should have kidnapped Paige. She knew how to get along with anyone under any circ.u.mstances. Not that she'd wish anyone in her shoes just then.

Well, she wasn't Southern and she wasn't sweet, but maybe she could try to make some sense of all of this. Starting with why Dane was cooperating with kidnappers.

Some semblance of reason rea.s.serted itself then. Dane wouldn't be cooperating with kidnappers. There was a reasonable explanation for the whole thing, and she should calm down and try to find out what it was. Lorelei took a deep breath, and turned back to Dane.

"What gives?" she demanded, poking his chest for emphasis and pushing her face close to his, the better to glare at him.

The sword-waving maniac growled and yanked her away from Dane. "You will give him nothing. Understand?" the man snarled.

Lorelei blinked. Then nodded. Then shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't understand." She tilted her face towards Dane again and bit out, "This little joke of yours has gone far enough. Tell Conan here to let go of me, and then start explaining."

Conan tightened his grip and said very softly, "My name is not Conan. I am Erik, but you will call me Master."

Lorelei couldn't help it. She laughed.

"Oh, dear," she managed to gasp out. "Now I know I'm not the one who's dreaming. Master!" She laughed harder, until her knees turned weak and she sagged against the man. Then she continued to giggle helplessly. "Master. You're killing me. That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time." She giggled some more, then managed to get a grip and straighten up to address the two, since the rest of the men seemed content to watch and listen.

"Okay, let's get serious, guys. Somebody tell me what's going on. And you can start with this." She pointed at the telltale armband on Master Conan's arm and waited.

The two men looked at each other. Then the one who wanted to be called Master snarled, "What have you done, little brother?"

Dane looked deeply offended. "Not a thing. I have not touched it."

Lorelei snorted derisively. "You did so. You gave it to me. You told me to wear it. Are you having memory blackouts or something?"

Dane scowled at her, then at Conan. "I swear to you, brother, I have done nothing. I do not know this woman."

"Oh, you do, too, and I knew you were up to something." Lorelei frowned at him, then sat abruptly as the boat hit a swell. "I shouldn't have taken it. I knew you were setting me up," she accused, shooting Dane a reproachful look. "Now look what you've done," she added as water washed over the sides and drenched her.

Dane glared at her in disbelief. "You blame me for the actions of the ocean?"

She glared back. "I blame you for putting me here. This is all your fault. And to think I was going to write a song for you."

That got a reaction she didn't expect. The men all stared at her, and at Dane, looking shocked. Dane looked the most surprised.

"A song?" He croaked the words out, and she almost laughed again at the expression on his face. As if a song in his honor meant something very important.

"Yeah, but you can forget it now, you and Thor's Hammer," she snarled. She wrung water from her dress and brushed vainly at the fabric, then tried to smooth out her hair. She gave up in frustration. "Where's a mirror?" she pleaded, turning her face towards Conan. "I'm supposed to be onstage and I can 't perform like this. Look at me. I'm a wreck."

He stared back at her, and she added on a moan, "Don't tell me you kidnapped me before the concert and you're making me miss it."

He didn't answer, and she sagged against the side of the boat, discouraged.

"This isn't fair, you know. In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy had everyone she knew. I get stuck with Dane, but where's the rest of my band? And where's my manager, Morris? He's supposed to be here. What if I have a problem?" she demanded, waving her arms at Master Conan. "And I do have a problem. Am I supposed to do everything myself? That's what I pay him for. Why isn't he here to take care of this?"

Conan frowned at her fiercely. "Do I hear you aright? You demand your personal thralls?"

Lorelei blinked. "My what?"

He strode to stand over her, fists on his hips. "You will understand your position here," he informed her. "You do not have thralls. You are less than a thrall. You are my property."

Lorelei gazed back, then turned bewildered eyes to Dane. "Is this a board meeting? Is that what this is about?"

She'd incorporated the Sirens to simplify handling the business details, but still, it was a private venture. All the Sirens were co-owners. No, that didn't make any sense, either. The man who called her his property wasn't a board member and they hadn't sold any significant permanent rights to any outside concerns. She couldn't see how he could claim any ownership.

Unless he was as nutty as a fruitcake.