The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

Tomorrow I’d have a wife.

Tomorrow I’d finally have Prima as mine.

3

Prima

“The time has come.”

I heard Teron’s voice on the other side of the door, but I didn’t move. I just brought my knees closer to my chest and rested my forehead on them, sitting on the edge of my fur pallet and knowing this was the last time I’d sleep in this room.

I should be happy about that, happy over the fact that I never had to see these four walls again, that I’d never have to see Teron again. But this had been my home. These had been my things. And a part of me ached with sadness over that loss.

There was another hard pound on my door, and I lifted my head, staring at the scarred wood.

“Do not make this any harder than it has to be, Prima.” There was no empathy in Teron’s voice, and I narrowed my eyes at him even though he couldn’t see me.

I hated him with a passion.

I breathed out slowly and stood, grabbing the small, wrapped package that held the most precious things I owned. I cradled the fur-wrapped items in my hands, the weight barely substantial, but then again, I didn’t have much that was just mine.

I had a small coin purse underneath my skirt, the leather holding all the currency I’d earned in my lifetime—which wasn’t saying much, but it was mine, and I’d worked hard for it. I would keep my meager wealth to myself, hiding it away, and most definitely not tell my new husband. If I had to leave—escape—I needed to make sure I had any rations I could squirrel away.

I walked to the door and opened it just as Teron lifted his fist, no doubt about to pound on the wood again. He scowled down at me, but I kept my expression as stoic as possible. And when I looked over his shoulder at the two armed guards who stood just inside our small abode, my carefully held composure flickered with unease.

The men were massive, making my home seem even tinier than it was. They didn’t even seem like men but resembled beasts, warlords. Demons.

I noticed the one on the left had his focus trained intently on me, his gaze cold and unforgiving. The long, jagged scar over his cheek and moving along his mouth distorted his lips in a way that made him look like he had a constant, nasty snarl in place.

My heart was racing like a scared rabbit, the sensation that I was this tiny, helpless creature, and these men—with their swords strapped to their backs and their scarred faces—were the predators about to catch me and take me to my death.

It felt like I was dying.

I pushed my way past Teron, my shoulder bumping into his. That gave me a small amount of satisfaction. I would’ve never dared to be so bold around him before, but he couldn’t touch me now. Maybe this was a blessing and a curse all at the same time.

I walked up to the two guards and stood a few feet from them, one part of me urging me to fight back, to not make this easy for them. But I wasn’t a fool. I knew they’d catch me. I knew fighting would make this far worse for myself.

I craned my neck back to look into the face of the one on the right because the one on the left terrified me so with his hard, cold focus on me. As with all the men who were aligned with Fenrir the Destroyer, these men were brutal and savage, towering over everyone. It was like they were a breed all their own, a separate species.

Giants in their own right.

I said nothing, just straightened my spine and made sure to level my stare right into his dark eyes. I thought I saw the guard on the right start to smirk, just a twitch at the corner of his lips, but if it was there, it vanished before he let it fully come to fruition.

Inside I felt broken and hollow, but I wasn’t going to show that on the outside. My father had always taught me to be strong, especially in the face of fear.

Showing weakness in our world would only get you killed.

So I pushed my way past him, careful not to make contact, saying nothing, just stepping outside and waiting for them to lead me to the guillotine. Because that’s what it felt like.

It felt like I was being escorted to my very death.

4

Prima

The trip to the Destroyer’s castle was made in silence with me sitting atop a great steed, my much smaller body in front of one of the guards who’d taken me. Fortunately it wasn’t the one with the constant snarl and the too-focused stare.

The male behind me was massive, a heavy presence. They exuded danger.