Death Blow (13 page)

He fingered her ear, the caress so delicious she nigh purred.

“This day, I used the coin from the sirens to replenish our food stores. I also unpacked
your
chests today.” She held her wrist to his nose. “Smell. ’Tis the aphrodisiac oil.”

A shadow crossed his face. He glanced at the open trunks on the far side of the chamber. “You opened the velvet sack?”

“Aye. Grelod found me puzzling o’er the dildo, and she explained it all to me.” Warmth gushed up from her toes to her scalp, and she knew from the heat chasing her cheeks that she had turned pink.

He drew back. “I am afraid to ask what else the two of you discussed.”

“She thinks you clever indeed to figure out how to break the curse without having your pecker green and wither.” Nyssa grinned at him. “And I agreed with her.”

“Are you cert, Nyssa? ’Twas not the way I wanted to take your maidenhood and it fair broke my heart when you sobbed yourself to sleep in my arms after.” He feathered kisses along the line of her jaw.

“I recall little of that night and would prefer to forget the all of it and remember our wedding night and morn. I would ask a boon of you this eve, Konáll.”

He lifted a brow. “Ask and I will grant your every wish.”

“I should like to taste you this eve.”

His hold on her tightened and his blue eyes darkened. “You will have me spilling my seed with such hot talk.”

“Do you recall when you told me to hold the tent pole and not release it until so instructed?”

A muscle under his eye twitched. “Aye.”

“I would have you like that now, husband.”

He scanned the room. “We have no tent pole, wife.”

“Aye, but we have a bed with four posts.” She jiggled her brows and tugged him to the mattress. She pressed him to the bed and grinned when the straw hissed under his weight. Nyssa untied the shawl and let the fabric fall to the floor.

He stared at her and ran his tongue o’er his lips.

“’Tis an enticing chemise.” He fingered the neckline of the soft material and ran his thumb over a nipple.

She grasped his hand and shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis my turn to lead. Hold up your arms, husband.”

“Your wish is my command.” He raised his hands.

It took considerable effort, but she finally managed to tug off his tight fitting tunic and bare his chest. Nyssa eyed his sculpted muscles and ran her hand along the ridges of his breastbone.

He sucked in a breath.

“Lie down.” She touched a fingertip to one nipple.

He flopped back onto the mattress.

“Why have you no scars?” She worked on the rope tying his hose together.

“The caliph who captured me had in his harem an enchantress. She had a notion to have my son. She tried to arouse me, but my cock refused to rise, and she persuaded him that he could control me through the ring.”

Her eyes widened with each word he uttered. ’Twas a tale beyond belief. “How so?”

“She added weights to the ring. The pressure caused my arousal and the bitch mounted me night after night.”

“You did not want to mount her?” She wanted to howl with the unfairness of it all.

“Nay. Though I willed my cock flaccid, the moment they added the weights to the ring, my shaft engorged. ’Tis torture to have your body do one thing when your mind wants the opposite. The weights put me on the edge, and I could do naught but swive her and spill my seed in her sheath. There was another enchantress in the harem who hated the other, and she tried to help me with a spell, but it went awry.”

Nyssa could scarce believe her ears. “How so?”

“The spell worked but not in the manner she had anticipated. My seed held no potency for which I was grateful beyond relief. But since that time I no longer scar.” He captured her hand and ran her fingers around the base of his skull. “See, e’en the blow from the beach where you first found me is gone.”

“So it is.” She sat back on her heels. “’Twould seem you are doomed to have enchantresses fighting o’er you, husband.”

“You are the only woman I want casting spells o’er me, wife.” He outlined her mouth with his thumb.

Nyssa’s breath caught in her throat, and she had to bite her tongue to stop the onslaught of tears. She took a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Agreed, husband. I will be your only witch.”

“Witch, enchantress, wife, you are mine in all forms. Albeit I seem to remember a promise of ravishment?” He winked at her.

She grinned and worked the hose down his hips. He cooperated by lifting off the straw and his cock sprang free and jutted to the ceiling. She couldn’t take her eyes off the beauty of his erection and grasped the base with one hand.

“’Tis hard and hot and fair throbs in my hold. And I have wanted to discover the texture of this since the cave.” She rubbed a finger o’er the slit in the crown and slicked the moisture there onto the tip. “Why ’tis like honey. Thick and viscous.”

She sniffed. “And smells like a cockle or an oyster.”

He groaned. “You will drive me to the brink, Nyssa. Taste the demmed drop.”

She sucked entire length of her finger. “And it much tastes like an oyster.”

“I am not cert I like my seed being compared to a mollusk.” He clutched her wrist and drew her hand to his crown. “Touch me.”

Nyssa curled her fingers around the satiny head and trailed the underside. “’Tis smooth and fiery, yet rough and twitches as if possessed.”

“’Twould be Valhalla if you spoke less and tasted more,” he growled.

She leaned over and sucked him into her mouth.

He moaned and rolled from side to side.

Nyssa glimpsed his death grip on the sheets and smiled around the crown of his erection. She liked the feel of his foreskin sliding up and down the slick length of him. Nyssa released her suction and sat back on her haunches. Drops leaked from the opening on the top of his cock. Her mouth watered. She slurped up every bit of moisture and smacked her lips.

“’Tis incredible husband. So carnal that my puss is drenched and my breasts are heavier than anchors.”

Nyssa scooted down to her elbows, hefted his testicles in her hands and weighed the hard balls ’tween her palms. She nudged his thighs farther apart and went eye-to-eye with the steel ring. She tugged on the metal.

He yanked his hips off the mattress.

She firmed her hold on the ring.

His cock thickened e’en more.

Nyssa could scarce draw breath. Her chest burned, her sex spasmed, and she yearned to have him fill her.

“I cannot wait any longer, mit hiärta.” He hauled her up to him and rolled o’er.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut when he drove into her. Naught sent her o’er the edge like that first plunge, the way his pecker stretched her sheath, and the pressure of his thickness caused her inner walls to contract and release in quick fits and starts.

He adjusted his hold, set her legs o’er his shoulders, and impaled her with his cock. Nyssa forced her eyes open wanting to memorize his face when he found his pleasure. He looked like her image of a berserker, lips snarled, eyes half-hooded, and features contorted.

She clutched his shoulders, her nails dug into his flesh, and he pounded into her spasming sheath. Nyssa hugged him close and savored his violent, jerky shudders when he spilled his seed.

* * *

After he had cleansed them both, Konáll gathered Nyssa to him, and lifted her leg over his groin. She laid her cheek to his heart, her pert nipples scraping his chest hair on each ragged inhale. If it weren’t for the specter of Wazir Niketas surfing the coast of his new kingdom, he would be completely content.

“Konáll?” She traced the brown circle fronting his nipple.

“Nyssa?” He stroked her spine and cupped a hand around her bottom cheek. “Is aught amiss?”

“Nay. I but wish to know. Did the enchantress bear you a son?”

He wondered at the sudden hitch in her breathing. “Nay. To my relief, I have fathered no sons. Yet. I am cert we will have many children. Though I must admit I hope to Odin none of our daughters will inherit your wicked birthmark. I cannot bear the notion of a warrior such as me lusting after the serpent and becoming hard and aching with a mere glimpse of the mark.”

She brushed her lips to his rib. “Are you ready for bread and cheese and mayhap a goblet of wine? I will run to the kitchens in a bit to get the hot tray.”

“Nay. I am in no rush and well content to hold you a wee bit longer. Nyssa, I have asked Dráddør to return to my brother’s holding once we have set all these mysteries to rest. I am concerned for my sister’s safety. Mús has disappeared and I know naught of the state of the coming war ’tween Vanir and Æsir. I would have both Hjørdis and you, safe, Nyssa.”

“’Tis a wise decision. I am fraught with worry about Mús. ’Tis not like him to vanish with ne’er a word.” She pushed onto her forearms and met his gaze. “I fear he has gone for good and I will ne’er set sights on him again.”

He smoothed the worry lines on her forehead, but could not tell her of Mús’s craving for mortal blood. He, too, believed Mús had taken a decision to erase himself from Nyssa’s life.

“Nyssa, will you give me your word, you will not tempt fate on the morrow? I need you safe here in the castle.” He cradled her chin in his palm and noticed when her gaze flickered to the side afore meeting his.

“I will not take chances on the morrow, Konáll. I vow, I am famished.” She stretched her arms above her head and sent him a sultry lopsided smile.

He hugged her closer. “Stay. I will see to the platter from the kitchen.”

“Nay husband. ’Tis my night to be in charge and to provide for you.” She hopped off the straw and reached for her discarded gown.

Konáll admired her slender waist afore the cyrtel hid her sweet curves. He enjoyed her easy grace when she swayed to the door, paused, and blew him a kiss. A grin chased his mouth.

“I will be but a moment, Konáll.”

He sighed when she vanished from view. Balanced his head on his hands and considered the chamber’s ceiling. On the morrow, he would hunt down Niketas and cut the man’s heart out of his chest. Then and only then could he be cert his wife was safe.

Glad he was she had discovered the dildo. Guilt still assuaged him from the night afore Thrimilici, but he had done what he had to keep her safe and warm and living.

He ran through the day’s events in his head.

Why had Dermid requested an audience on the morrow?

The wizened man had seemed anxious.

And Grelod had asked to have a word with him afore they broke their fast the next day. He knew she had gone to extra efforts to befriend Nyssa and could nigh have kissed the young queen for gaining his wife’s trust.

’Twas all coming together. He had gained much in but a few days. A half-goddess wife, a kingdom to run, and, in Grelod, an ally and friend for Nyssa. Why then were all his warrior’s instincts vibrating?

A thud on the door garnered his attention. He bounded to his feet and opened the door to find Nyssa balancing a tray in one hand and a bowl in the other. He quickly divested her of her burdens and examined the contents of both.

“Venison stew. And an apple pie. You are a wife beyond compare.” He winked at her.

“There is a berry tart as well. Raspberry tart, that is.”

Delighted by the pink hue suffusing her cheeks, he chucked her chin. “Do I take it you ordered the raspberries for my pleasure?”

“Aye.” She fair beamed the words. “With the cream you are overfond of.”

Much later after he had gorged on berries, cream, and Nyssa’s sweet clover honey, Konáll fell back on the mattress and barely had enough energy left to raise his head.

“I swear I am exhausted beyond belief. You have milked me dry, mìlseachd. I cannot lift an eyelid. My bones have become puddles and my cock can rise no more. Nay, not e’en after you suckled the Saracen’s ring. Wicked though ’twas the feel of your tongue there, you have drained every last bit of my seed.”

“Let me pour you some more wine.” Nyssa turned to the table and filled a goblet with the cool liquid.

He accepted the vessel from her and took a large gulp of the icy spirit.

“Tell me of your time at the abbey.” He tucked her into his side. “And the Lady Gráinne. Were you much in her company?”

“Nay. Lady Gráinne spent most of her time at Sumbarten. She oversaw Circe Fearn Abbey and the abbess there answered to her. I saw Lady Gráinne but twice a year. In the spring and the autumn. But she sent me missives oft.” Nyssa had hardly consumed a sip of the wine and had deigned to have any of the pie or the cream.

But he had eaten like a pig and still felt ravenous, though slumber dangled a heavy invitation. “Did your Da and Mama visit you at Circe Fearn Abbey?”

“Aye. On the way to and from King Kenneth’s courts. Ciárrán accompanied them until he joined the Jomsvikings.”

The sadness in her voice could not be mistaken. “What ails you, Nyssa?”

“Naught. I am but anxious to have all settled. The castle, the keep. I worry I do not have the skills to manage a household. I have spent many years learning only healing skills. Grelod has taught me much o’er the past few days, but I know naught of when to set jam or what time of year is best for milling flour.”

“Be at ease, wife. You cannot learn all of the running of a keep in but a few days. We will go forward together. No doubt we will err, but we will improve. I cannot wait for us to fill the castle with sons and daughters. Next summer we will travel to my brother’s holding, Bita Veðr, and you will meet my sister, Hjørdis, our
bjartr Stjarna.”

“You call her bright star?” Nyssa’s eyes had misted again, and he wondered why she teared up so oft.

“Aye. She shines like the brightest star in the night. I cannot tell you how much joy she has brought to our dim world.” He twirled a lock of her hair around a finger. “I know she will welcome you with open arms.”

“Hjørdis is also a half immortal?”

“Aye. There are you, Skatha, and Hjørdis. And if Mús is correct you are all in danger.”

“Because of the coming war ’tween the Vanir and the Æsir?” She rested her chin on hands cupped on his chest.