Page 42 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

He did as he was told, digging deep for his noble dignity, but no sooner had he straightened than Absolon’s hands were on him. With both hands he ripped the clothes from Ragnar’s body like they were nothing but tree bark. Ragnar started, about to cover himself, but forced himself to stop. He would endure this. He could perhaps even use it. He held his tongue and watched for the right moment, while the gentle wind scoured his body.

Absolon flung the rags down in a sodden heap. Though the cold would not be flattering, Ragnar stood proud in his wet boots and tracked Absolon’s eyes wherever they went. They slid down his body, explored where his hands and mouth had once traveled, but they did not linger. Absolon was a stablehand and Ragnar was a horse being checked for burrs and nicks. Absolon’s lips disappeared into a thin grim line.

He handed Ragnar a cloth to dry himself, holding it out at arm’s length. Ragnar took it, overreaching far enough to touch Absolon’s hand. He withdrew like he’d been scalded and retreated to the other side of the cell, cloaking himself in shadows.

“You’re going to stand there while I do this?”

“I don’t trust you. When you’re done, I’ll take everything back.”

Ragnar shrugged. He was still cold, his skin tightening on his bones, his boots soaked through and freezing, but he took his time and let Absolon take in all of him. He looked into the shadows to where Absolon’s eyes must be before letting the cloth cover his face. He rubbed his hair dry for far longer than he needed.

He ran the cloth over his face then lengthened his neck to mop it of water and twisted and reached as much of his back as he could, knowing how his muscles stretched, creating a line for Absolon to follow. He dried one arm, long, languorous, then the other, before wiping down his chest, his abdomen, deviating to his left leg, down his thighs, around to his hamstrings and calves, and repeated it down the right.

He straightened and rubbed the cloth over his groin, cleaning his cock and balls of the last drop of moisture. Despite himself—or because of himself—his cock thickened but he turned his back before Absolon could see his full arousal.

He held the cloth out from his body. “Will you dry the rest of my back, please?”

He heard Absolon move and smiled to himself but no sooner had his lips curved than Absolon pushed him against the wall, hand flat in the middle of his back, and crushed him against the stone. Roughly, Absolon scraped the last of the water from his body, his bulk close enough to his naked skin to feel heat. Absolon’s lips appeared close to Ragnar’s ear, hot breath on his skin, lulling Ragnar into closing his eyes. Absolon hadn’t often been like this but when he had…

His cock hardened even as Absolon pinned him down.

“You always were a cheap whore, Ragnar.”

“Then use me, Sol.”

Absolon pressed him harder against the wall. “I told you not to call me that.” His teeth were clammed shut so tight Ragnar could hear them grind. “You’re not worthy of it.”

“Then punish me for it. Take out your hate on me. Use me like I used you.” He swallowed hard. He’d stop at nothing to get away from Absolon. Even this.

“You’re not worth my spit, let alone my seed.”

“You used to enjoy giving me both.”

Air snorted through his nostrils. “Is there nothing that will stop your mouth?”

“You know the only thing that could ever do that.” He pushed his ass back until he rubbed against the hard bulge in Absolon’s trousers and raised a small smile to his success.

“Will you give up what scraps of honor you have left to get your way?” Absolon shoved him again and stepped back.

Ragnar rolled his shoulders and turned around. His cock was standing firm and to attention, but he wouldn’t hide it. As much as he hated that Absolon had brought this out of him, he would use it to his advantage. “Why shouldn’t we both have a little pleasure before I’m to die?”

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Then what about you? What about what you deserve? After I’m gone, who will be there for you? No doubt you can have any you turn your attention to, man or woman, but who is there alive who knows you like I know you?”

“And what good has that done me?”

“Take pleasure where you can get it, Sol.”

He flinched away from the name but didn’t rail against it. “Pleasure is not what I want from you.”

Absolon’s disdain struck flint in Ragnar’s heart, and Absolon’s mewling cowardice stoked his anger. “Oh yes, you want my life because you think it will make things right, but it won’t. Mark my words it will only ruin you. Those deeds will haunt you for the rest of your life. Take it from me.”

“What have you ever regretted? Ragnar the Heartless cares for nothing and no one.”

As quickly as his ire flared, Absolon’s words doused it, leaving behind smoke and ash. “You’re wrong, Sol. I do know what it means to have a heart and I know what it means for one to break, and I regret breaking yours.”

Absolon looked as if he’d been struck. “The Devil should come to you for lessons in lying. You speak nothing but falsehoods.”

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