The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

I didn’t feel that bloodlust. This was a necessity—there was no denying that—but I was never a male who thrived off taking the lives of others. It was the only way to survive. I killed them, or they would’ve killed me.

And the same was for this situation.

When his body went limp, his eyes open and unblinking, his limbs hanging lifeless at his sides, only then did I let him fall unceremoniously to the ground. My body and mind were calm, something I felt right after a battle. It was this almost serene sensation that claimed me.

It was when I sensed a soft touch on my arm that I slowly turned and stared down into Prima’s eyes. Reality rushed back. Noises, scents, the firelight in the room… all of it crashing into my senses.

I had her in my arms seconds later, knowing I was covered in Stiles’s blood from breaking his nose, but unable to do anything else but hold her… to keep her close.

And she let me. She held me back, clutched at me, and I knew this woman was my everything.

19

Prima

Fen was quiet, more than usual, and as much as I wanted to talk to him and ease his obvious troubles over what had happened, I just let him hold me. That seemed to be what calmed him the most.

After I’d watched him kill that man, a man who’d meant to hurt me. to hurt Fen, I’d stood there in shock, not knowing what to do or how to feel. I didn’t feel bad or guilty that Fen had taken a life. It was justified.

Because if Fen hadn’t ended the threat, I had no doubt in my mind things would have gone from bad to worse instantly.

And then he’d just held me, whispering incoherent things, words that I felt were prayers to the gods, endearments, filled with fear of losing me. I didn’t know how long we stood there.

People had rushed in, guards and the other two rulers who were visiting. All I’d heard were sounds rushing around me. All I’d seen was men moving around the room. I hadn’t noticed anything more than that, not with Fen’s big arms around me, refusing to let me go, just as afraid as I was of losing him after what we’d just experienced.

And when everyone left after Fen had given out stern, authoritative orders, the body being taken away before I’d even realized it, the blood cleaned up, the silence stretched out. And when I’d started to shake, the adrenaline crashing through me, Fen had said nothing as he lifted me into his strong arms and led me to the bathing chamber. I had been vaguely aware he’d ordered the tub to be filled, and before I knew it, he was undressing us and held me again as he got into the hot water.

I didn't know how long we’d been there, but it was clear Fen didn’t want to let me go, and I was more than okay with that. I rested my head on his shoulder and traced my hands over some of his scars that littered his pectoral muscle. I moved to the dark ink that covered one arm, the designs part of our northern culture, each line telling of wars and battles between gods and men. I’d never much focused on them before, but now as I stared at them, I realized how beautiful they were.

He was all hard, cut muscle against my slender, feminine form. Fen was… all mine. I didn’t know the exact moment I’d known or decided Fen was mine, but it was crystal clear to me.

Maybe it was the violence we’d experienced tonight. Maybe it was the thought of someone trying to take me away from him, and vice versa.

I didn't know for sure, but I felt my love for him grow so strongly that it almost made me choke up from emotion.

“It’s the shock of what happened,” he murmured against the crown of my head before giving me a soft kiss. “That’s why you're shaking, why you feel this way, and why everything is so… confusing.”

I didn't ask how he knew. Surely he’d felt this during his countless battles, because I knew whatever persona he held on the outside—that cold, almost apathetic aura that surrounded him—the man on the inside had feelings and knew what real pain was.

I pulled back and stared at him, at the cut lines that made up his face and body. I let my gaze follow the scars that marked his chest and arms. He was a brutal warrior and had probably seen countless battles.

He fought for me. He killed to protect me.

He stared into my eyes so deeply, so intently. The worry was clear on his face, and when he cupped my cheek, I felt his hand tremble against my skin.