Page 20 of Hungry Like a Wolf
Carmel looked upat the huge, bearded Viking, hardly believing her ears. “I beg your pardon?”
“Did he fuck you? My brother?”
“What?” She shook her head. “No, thank the Lord above, he didn’t.” She crossed herself out of habit.
“He didn’t touch you at all?”
“No.”
“Good.” He reached for her upper arms, wrapping his big fingers around them, and then pulled her to standing. “Because that would be wrong. It wouldn’t be wrong with just any slave—that would be up to him—but you being a princess, it wouldn’t be right, not at all.”
His vehemence surprised her. “I didn’t think Norsemen had any morals, princess or not.” She tilted her right eyebrow. “Or am I mistaken?”
“I think you have heard sagas and I think maybe you have not met the men of Drangar.”
“I can safely say I have, as have most of my father’s army, much to their peril.”
He nodded slowly, still studying her.
His quiet, intense gaze unnerved her as much as Orm’s flapping and rapid dialect that seemed to slip into his native tongue, creating a hybrid language that he entertained himself with. She took a step away. “What is wrong with your brother?”
He huffed. “Which one?”
“This one.” She gestured to the fur Orm had been sitting on; it was still flattened from his ass.
Ravn chuckled. “He was sent by the gods to test the patience of my parents, and now he tests the patience of his siblings.”
“He is…” She hesitated, not wanting to offend the tall bulk of muscle standing before her. “He is excitable.”
“Ja, he is.” He reached forward and crooked his finger beneath her chin, tilting her face to his.
The gentle action had her breath catching in her throat and she tried not to think of the axe, sword, and dagger hanging from his belt or the scar over his right eye that sliced his eyebrow in two.
“He is excitable, but I do not wish him to be excitable with you.”
She swallowed, her throat tight.
“What I’m saying is if he tries to take you, mount you, you must shout for me.” His lips pressed into a tight line and he shook his head. “I will not have your honor disrespected, not when one day the goddess Freya will question me about my actions here in Tillicoulty.”
Carmel wanted to thank Ravn, but what if he said this because he wanted her for himself? What if it was because he wanted to claim her and take her maidenhood?
“So you promise?” he asked. “You will shout for me. I will listen for you, and if you need me, I will be at your side.”
“Why?”
He half-smiled. “Why not?”
Suddenly, he stepped away, to the door.
“I don’t understand,” she said, pulling in a deep breath. “Why are you being like this? I am an enemy of Tillicoulty, and right now, the lowest of the low in this village. Why are you being nice to me?”
He turned slowly to face her, shadows licking over his face. “I have come to learn my place, the way you have yours.”
“You are a king and a free man.” She held in a huff. “I don’t seeyourproblem.”
“I have also come to see the faces of my constant companions.” He paused and held up his hand with three fingers pointing upward. “Regret. Grief. Loneliness. They do not make great bedfellows.”
“Grief, I have made friends with.” She held back the catch in her voice and blinked a few times to abate the prickle in her lower lids. “My father’s head is on a pike just yonder.”
