Read Online Enthralled: Viking Lore, Book 1 by Emma Prince - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emma Prince
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Eirik said, finally easing his hold around her waist.
She turned to stare at
his strained features. “And what did you say?”
“I told him that since
he had discarded you, you were no longer his.”
Relief flooded her.
Grimar was not her master anymore. He could never exert his will over her
again. She was free.
Yet Eirik’s bronzed
face remained taut. Laurel noticed a muscle in his jaw ticking. She recoiled
slightly, fearing something that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“What else is there?”
she breathed.
“To protect you from
him, I…” Eirik broke their gaze, his jaw working.
“Tell me.”
He finally turned back
to her, his bright blue eyes searing through her. “I…claimed you for myself.
You are my thrall now.”
Laurel’s heart froze in
her chest. She felt like the world had tipped on its side.
“You…you claimed me?” She jerked away from him, scooting back across the deck in her soaking
gown. “I am your slave ?”
“Laurel, let me
explain.”
“Nay, what is there to
explain?” Her voice was high and shrill, but she didn’t care. “I went from being Grimar’s property to yours. Now I will be
forced to serve you just as I served him.”
Saying the words aloud
made them even more sickening. From the tales she’d been told at Whitby, she
knew Vikings were ruthless, merciless heathens who took what they wanted with
no thought to anyone else. She’d never imagined that she could be forced into
abject slavery by first one man and now another.
She cursed herself,
acknowledging for the first time since this ordeal began that she’d looked to
Eirik as a protector of sorts. Aye, he was a Viking warrior, and aye, he’d
looted the Abbey with the others. But he’d also stopped Grimar from striking
her again that first night in the chapel and had intervened when Grimar had
dangled her overboard. He’d given her food and spoken to her in her own
language. And he’d saved her life from drowning.
But she’d been a blind
fool, only seeing what she wanted—nay, needed—to see, to cling to a sliver of
hope that she was not completely at the mercy of these savage barbarians.
But he was no different
than the others. And now she was his property to do with as he pleased.
“I am not like Grimar,”
he said through gritted teeth. “He said that you were still his by rights. You
are an utlending —an outsider—and if I hadn’t made a claim to you as my
thrall, he would have taken you again for himself.”
“You make it sound like
you barbarians follow laws and rules,” she spat out.
“We do.”
She crossed her arms
protectively over her chest. The cold from her wet dress was finally starting
to seep in.
“Hear me out, Laurel,”
he said, his voice softer now. He reached tentatively toward her, but she shied
away. “I am not like Grimar.”
“You said that already,
but how can you be believed when you can force me to your will and no one will
stand in your way?” Bitter tears rose unbidden to her eyes. It was better to be
the thrall of Eirik than Grimar, a small voice said in the back of her mind.
She knew they were different—Eirik had begun to show her that already.
Yet she bucked at the idea of being a slave to any man.
Eirik opened his mouth
to respond, but the Viking woman and the other man who was often by Eirik’s
side reappeared. They spoke to him and he nodded wearily. The man helped Eirik
to his feet, and the woman approached Laurel.
“That is Madrena,”
Eirik said from behind the Viking woman. “And this is her brother Alaric. You
can trust them. They will not harm you. No one will harm you now that…now that
you are mine.”
The woman called
Madrena guided Laurel a few feet away and halted her before a sea chest.
Madrena opened the lid and produced a large, thick cloak with rabbit fur lining
around the hood and collar. The cloak made puddles around her feet, but it
helped cut the chill from her damp gown. Laurel realized with a start that the
cloak was
She turned to stare at
his strained features. “And what did you say?”
“I told him that since
he had discarded you, you were no longer his.”
Relief flooded her.
Grimar was not her master anymore. He could never exert his will over her
again. She was free.
Yet Eirik’s bronzed
face remained taut. Laurel noticed a muscle in his jaw ticking. She recoiled
slightly, fearing something that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“What else is there?”
she breathed.
“To protect you from
him, I…” Eirik broke their gaze, his jaw working.
“Tell me.”
He finally turned back
to her, his bright blue eyes searing through her. “I…claimed you for myself.
You are my thrall now.”
Laurel’s heart froze in
her chest. She felt like the world had tipped on its side.
“You…you claimed me?” She jerked away from him, scooting back across the deck in her soaking
gown. “I am your slave ?”
“Laurel, let me
explain.”
“Nay, what is there to
explain?” Her voice was high and shrill, but she didn’t care. “I went from being Grimar’s property to yours. Now I will be
forced to serve you just as I served him.”
Saying the words aloud
made them even more sickening. From the tales she’d been told at Whitby, she
knew Vikings were ruthless, merciless heathens who took what they wanted with
no thought to anyone else. She’d never imagined that she could be forced into
abject slavery by first one man and now another.
She cursed herself,
acknowledging for the first time since this ordeal began that she’d looked to
Eirik as a protector of sorts. Aye, he was a Viking warrior, and aye, he’d
looted the Abbey with the others. But he’d also stopped Grimar from striking
her again that first night in the chapel and had intervened when Grimar had
dangled her overboard. He’d given her food and spoken to her in her own
language. And he’d saved her life from drowning.
But she’d been a blind
fool, only seeing what she wanted—nay, needed—to see, to cling to a sliver of
hope that she was not completely at the mercy of these savage barbarians.
But he was no different
than the others. And now she was his property to do with as he pleased.
“I am not like Grimar,”
he said through gritted teeth. “He said that you were still his by rights. You
are an utlending —an outsider—and if I hadn’t made a claim to you as my
thrall, he would have taken you again for himself.”
“You make it sound like
you barbarians follow laws and rules,” she spat out.
“We do.”
She crossed her arms
protectively over her chest. The cold from her wet dress was finally starting
to seep in.
“Hear me out, Laurel,”
he said, his voice softer now. He reached tentatively toward her, but she shied
away. “I am not like Grimar.”
“You said that already,
but how can you be believed when you can force me to your will and no one will
stand in your way?” Bitter tears rose unbidden to her eyes. It was better to be
the thrall of Eirik than Grimar, a small voice said in the back of her mind.
She knew they were different—Eirik had begun to show her that already.
Yet she bucked at the idea of being a slave to any man.
Eirik opened his mouth
to respond, but the Viking woman and the other man who was often by Eirik’s
side reappeared. They spoke to him and he nodded wearily. The man helped Eirik
to his feet, and the woman approached Laurel.
“That is Madrena,”
Eirik said from behind the Viking woman. “And this is her brother Alaric. You
can trust them. They will not harm you. No one will harm you now that…now that
you are mine.”
The woman called
Madrena guided Laurel a few feet away and halted her before a sea chest.
Madrena opened the lid and produced a large, thick cloak with rabbit fur lining
around the hood and collar. The cloak made puddles around her feet, but it
helped cut the chill from her damp gown. Laurel realized with a start that the
cloak was
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