The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

Although she might not have known it, she was mine the moment she turned of age. Even now, I remembered the first time I’d seen her all those winters before, nothing but a slip of a girl who’d looked upon me with fear. I’d known then she’d grow up to be something special.

I just hadn’t known she’d become the only woman I wanted as my wife.

But war and duty had kept me from her until now. I’d waited until I could be sure I wasn’t called away from her side. Because I knew leaving her would be the hardest task I’d ever be forced to do.

And once I claimed Prima, I’d never let her leave. She’d forever be tied to me.

And those thoughts had my body aching and growing hard, caused my sac to draw up and become heavy with my seed. I thought about taking her to my furs and laying her out so I could gaze upon her nude body. And then I’d feast on her, devour every inch of Prima, memorize every curve and hollow, and lick every inch of her porcelain skin.

Even now my cock was hard, the length digging against my leather trews. The very thought of sliding into her caused a rush of arousal so primal and feral that it had me sucking in a breath of air.

My balls ached, the very male side of me wanting to fill her with my seed until she was big and round with my babe. My heir.

The sound of a drinking horn clattering to the ground drew my attention to the end of the borð. I watched Bjørn swiftly rise from his seat at the same time Erik did. Both men stared the other down, the testosterone and aggression moving between them nearly tangible.

Erik’s nostrils flared a second before he reached out and swept his arm across his place setting, causing his drinking horn and food to crash to the floor.

I settled back farther against my seat and watched. With warriors, the only way to solve an issue was with violence. That was the only way these things worked themselves out. If they didn’t come to blows, then terms would not be met, and that aggression would continue to fester inside each of them.

So let them pummel each other, and once it was all said and done, they’d pat each other on the back and share a pitcher of mead.

“I will be the one taking Ingrid to my fur tonight,” Bjørn bellowed, and I could see how red Erik’s face was getting with his anger.

“Nay,” Erik spit out. “She’s been promised to me for the evening. And if you’d like to challenge me for this night, I’m ready.” Erik slammed his fist against his chest three times, his shoulders pulling back as he went to his full height.

I’d chosen each and every man who stood by my side, not just to rule over Kaldir but to fight beside me in battle. They were the biggest, most powerful men in all the lands, and because of that, their aggression and need to win outrode everything else. It also meant their passions for fighting and fucking were far more intense than the normal male.

“You want to come to blows, you take it outside.”

Bjørn curled his lip and stared, turned his head, and then spit on the stone before tipping his chin toward the outer courtyard.

If they wanted to fight each other until they were bloody and broken, they wouldn’t be doing it in my hall. The scent of blood wasn’t something I wanted surrounding me as I enjoyed my meal.

The two cursed each other and headed out, several men standing and following them.

I stayed seated, the commotion enough to have my thoughts pulled from Prima for this small time. But now that things had settled, my mind was consumed with her once again.

Always on her.

I should have been thinking of plans and tactics for when Audun the Dark and Manning the Powerful came to Kaldir. It had been one winter’s cycle since I met with the rulers of the two closest kingdoms, and as much as I enjoyed the solitude staying within my kingdom walls provided, creating peace and ensuring treaties were kept intact was a necessary evil.

But Audun, ruler of the Kingdom of Kirkja, and Manning, ruler of the Kingdom of Bekkar, were the most vicious, stubborn, and hardheaded males I’d ever come in contact with.

They were just like me, which was probably why finding any kind of middle ground with the two bastards was damn nigh impossible whenever we congregated to go over any threats or new information we wanted or needed to be passed down that couldn’t wait until our annual meeting.

I brought my horn mug to my lips and took a long drink as I stared across the great hall. My men were busy drinking and being jovial, so I let my mind wander to how things—how my life—would be completely different tomorrow after the sun set.