Page 27 of Her Viking Lord
“I love you, littlevolva,” he murmured into my ear. “You will make me very proud.”
“I love you, too,Herra,” I whispered, my voice quavering audibly. “I will do my best.”
CHAPTER 15
Lorna
Driving back to the prime ministerial residence after my training—what felt to me like my cataclysmic session serving the mysterious man whom for some reason it seemed I loved as I’d never loved anyone before—I tried to figure out what came next. Somehow I had to find a way to offer myself to Georgy Horakovsky.
I thought back to my visions of the world tree, and I realized something else, something new about them. Every detail of a thread, a path out along a bough, a branch, a twig, a leaf, was present, but it took great effort for me—avolva, I called myself in my head for the first time—to carry those details back out.
Perhaps I hadn’t progressed far enough in my training, or perhaps even the most experienced of thevölurcouldn’t remember everything. In any case, I didn’t know how it should go, in the immediate future: how I could get from the present, driving my car, to the course of events I needed to bring about,where the prime minister’s wife begged a Russian warlord to use her like a whore.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles actually, visibly turning white. The cityscape blurred past me, but my mind lay elsewhere, still reeling from the intensity of Aksel’s touch, his commands, and the visions that had overwhelmed me. The world tree, Yggdrasil, had shown me paths I never thought I’d have to walk, and now I had to find a way to make those visions a reality.
The thought of offering myself to Horakovsky made my stomach churn. The man was a monster, a brutal and calculating oligarch who saw people as pawns in his grand schemes. But Aksel had commanded it, and more important, the fate of Jagland rested on my ability to infiltrate Horakovsky’s inner circle. I had to find a way to make him believe I was genuinely interested, that I was willing to submit to his every whim.
Aren’t you?whispered the treasonous voice inside me.YourHerracommanded it so that you wouldn’t have to think about that, didn’t he? But you’re supposed to be some sort of wise woman, now, aren’t you? How can you deny…
My heart raced as I pushed the idea away.No. I don’t… I don’t want… that.
As I pulled into the underground garage of the prime ministerial residence, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The cool air of the garage did little to calm the fire burning within me. I stepped out of the car, my legs still shaking slightly from the intensity of Aksel’s training. Every step reminded me of the welts on my bottom, the soreness between my legs, and the lingering sensation of his seed inside me.
I made my way up to the apartment. Takken was nowhere to be seen, which seemed a small mercy. I needed time to compose myself, to plan my next move. I headed straight to the bedroom, shedding my clothes as I went, eager to wash away the remnants of my session with Aksel.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I let the water cascade over me, washing away the physical evidence of my training. But no amount of water could cleanse the memories, the feelings, or the visions that still hovered at the edges of my consciousness. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the threads I had seen, the paths that would lead me to Horakovsky.
One thing was clear: I needed to find a way to make him want me—more specifically to make him want tobreakme… toownme in a way that my husband never could. I needed to become the object of his desire, of his obsession, of the obvious will to power and mastery that the Russian shared in his evil way with myHerra. The thought made me shudder, but I knew it was the only way. I had to play the part of the desperate, willing submissive, the eager concubine, and hope that my training with Aksel would be enough to guide me through the treacherous waters ahead.
As I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel, I heard the front door slam shut. Takken had returned home. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the performance I would have to give. I had tried to be the perfect political wife, the doting spouse, always while keeping my true thoughts hidden. Now I would play a very different part, but perhaps a much more honest one.
I took a deep breath.No time like the present. So mortified at the idea of what I must do that I felt slightly faint and unsteady on my feet, I walked out to the living room. My body was stilldamp from the shower, and I wore only a silk robe that clung to my curves. Takken sat at his desk, hunched over his tablet with a glass of whiskey at his elbow. He didn’t look up when I entered.
“We need to talk,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
He glanced up, irritation flashing across his face. “Not now, Lorna. I have work?—”
“It’s about Horakovsky.”
That got his attention. His gray eyes narrowed as he set down the tablet. “What about him?”
I moved closer, letting the robe fall open slightly, revealing the smooth skin between my breasts. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
The words hung in the air between us. Takken’s face went through a series of expressions—confusion, disbelief, then cold fury.
“Excuse me?” His voice was dangerously quiet.
“The way he looked at me at the meeting,” I continued, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “The way he commanded those girls. I’ve been… God, Takken, I’ve been touching myself thinking about it.”
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe,” I said, surprised by my own boldness. “But I think I can help you. Help us.”
“By whoring yourself to that Russian pig?” The disgust in his voice was palpable.
“By giving him what he wants in exchange for what we need.” I stepped closer, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. “You saw how he looked at me. He wants me, Takken. And if you offered me to him—formally, as part of your business arrangement—think what he might give you in return.”
His hand shot out, gripping my jaw hard enough to hurt. “You’re my wife.”
