Page 51 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

“Do you still intend it?”

Absolon paused then shook his head.

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t say things are fine and expect them to be so.”

“I didn’t sayallthings were fine but you,youare fine. You don’t scare me, Absolon. You are not a monster. And if you want me to leave, then that is your right. This is your place, after all, but…well…if you’ll let me, I’d like to stay.”

Absolon narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to make amends.”

“Since when?”

“Since I saw how broken you were last night.” He slid to the end of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. “I know I have no right to expect your forgiveness or for you to give me charity, but I would like to repay you as well as I can for the wrong I’ve done you.”

“You think a few fucks will do it?”

“They can’t hurt.”

Absolon glowered, but Ragnar laughed. “I’m joking. Though what we did last night would make the nights easier to bear. You can’t enjoy so much solitude, and wouldn’t I be better than no one?” Ragnar stood and took hold of Absolon’s hand. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

“I want for nothing.”

“Nothing except companionship and care. I can give you that.” He silenced the doubt inside himself.

Absolon chewed on his cheek. “I’ll think about it. I’m going to wash then I’ll get you some clothes from the village.”

“Is it far?”

“Not for me and my speed, but for you it would take most of the day.”

“I guess I’ll stay here then.”

Absolon didn’t answer, just gave a long, disparaging look at his naked body, and left the room.

Ragnar waited, listening to the splash of water and a few muttered curses before Absolon’s feet hit the dirt in a heavy thud. He hurried outside and looked for Absolon but there was no sign of him. He shook his head at Absolon’s speed and walked naked to the trough. He scrubbed himself of the dirt and the grime that had clung to him over the past week.

A week…

It had felt like months trapped in that cell wondering what Absolon was capable of. Well, he’d shown him, all right. Shown him intimately. And yet the fear drifted away beneath the full gale force of his ambition. Absolon had power and Ragnar would have it for his own. Then he wouldn’t need to rely on cutthroats and bandits to carry him into the hallowed history books. He could perform heroic deeds—truly heroic deeds—by himself alone which would bring him before the King. His father and brother would not be able to dismiss him so easily then. They would cower in fear at his strength and he would be denied nothing.

He rinsed his face and beard, detangled the matted mess of his red hair, and braced against the chill morning air, before returning to the hovel he’d call home for the next few months if all went well. He still had nothing to wear but he put his boots on and wrapped a cloth around his waist. When Absolon returned, he wanted to be ready to fuck him for days if that’s what it took. By the time he was through he’d have Absolon panting for him like a dog and willing to perform any trick he commanded.

Thankfully, Absolon had left some food: a few pieces of dried fish and bread that was beginning to turn stale. He grazed on them as he explored Absolon’s home, but there was little of interest. Some furniture, a hearth that he tended for his own needs if not for Absolon’s, but nothing to make it personal. They’d left the army with nothing and he’d abandoned Absolon with only his clothes; what could he have taken even if he’d had anything?

There was plenty of farm equipment, but it was unused. What did Absolon do there? How did he spend his days? And where were the original occupants? He shuddered to think, but his imagination supplied the horror. One stormy night, the family sitting down to eat… Absolon darkened their door, carried on the back of a nightmare, stole into their home then stole their souls.

One day that would be him.

Ragnar went outside, circled the building, bypassed his former cell, and walked the farmstead, across the uneven ground, refastening the cloth over his hips as needed. The breeze brushed his balls and the wind pinched his nipples, but he gritted his teeth and walked the length and breadth of the field, surrounded on three sides by forest. A stream babbled out of view but to what river it ran, he had no idea. No mountains rose up beyond to indicate where he was or if he were even still in Sweden, though he reasoned that Absolon could not have taken him far from the site of his kidnapping if he remained unconscious throughout the journey. Perhaps they weren’t too far at all, and his treasure was within grasp.

He scoffed at himself. What was he worrying about treasure for? He could have the whole of the Empire’s treasury if he so wished.

He walked, spotting fresh pawprints in the soil. So, the dog was still lurking nearby. Absolon would be pleased about that, though the fact it hadn’t yet returned to the house did not bode well. He dropped a piece of uneaten fish in case the animal was hungry and would return with more when Absolon brought him some. In secret. He didn’t want to get Absolon’s hopes up.

He kept to the farmed land rather than step into the shade. He preferred being somewhere he could see no confinement, where he was free to roam as far as he liked. He ignored his superstitious fear, infected by all those stories of his dead men. It was better to stay where Absolon could see him when he returned.

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