Trust Ch 01 5

When he closed his eyes, no matter how slight, he could see the movement of her dark, golden skin against the paleness of his own. He could feel it and that was torture. He craved her touch and the mercy that it offered. A good fight in the heart of battle had always brought him great pleasure, great glory. That was where he belonged. Now, she was the only true delight of his heart, a respite from this world's cruelties.

She was his afterlife because his world changed the moment he entered her. He became anew, diminishing the man he thought he was. This transformation was not one of the eye, but of the soul. Each moment possible was set aside to do nothing but devour her. This only made him want her more. His lover held back nothing, her body always ready and always giving him what he needed before he recognized a need. Within her he could stretch and expand the way a real man should. With one look, she made him feel like a God. That is the strength real men seek.

Sitting on his lap, with her thighs spread wide and his body between them was where she belonged. He could taste the sweetness of her tit as he pulled from it with his lips and laved it with his tongue. With the slightest pressure of his bite, he could feel her shiver. The sensations they created, the stroke of his cock pushing inside her and then pulling back, was enough to weaken the legs of any man. All the while, her hips teased with a dance created just for him and performed on his cock. She pushed forward just as he flexed the muscles of his backside, she allowed him deeper access. With his hands spread out, squeezing her round ass, he plunged forward as if that could make him a part of her.

The softness of her tender lips or the feel of her tongue battling against his for dominance, made him smile at her boldness. He could hear her moans of satisfaction from his balance of unrestrained lust and gentle intentions. What they shared went beyond fucking. It was the difference between having a woman and having half of your soul returned. The sound of her crying out, a completion brought on by the pleasure he supplied as his seed, hot and heavy, flooded her body, was music to his ears. She was his song. She was his reason. There were no words. Men like him had no words for such things.

This is why he dared not close his eyes.

She moved him. He was not a man easily moved. He was not a man to fall victim to his passions. He was a man of war, a Viking, a warrior like no other. He was the son of a great chieftain who ruled over many colonies and territories of great mass. Other men paled by comparison to this man. Men of immense power and distinguished records of battle were proud to be of service to him. His brawny ruggedness was only highlighted by his advanced intelligence. This alone made him properly entitled to lead. Demonstrations of such earned him endless loyalty.

He was not a man to be tested, not if one fancied the desire to see the rising of another sun. His current situation was a test, not of strength nor of power but of the heart. His heart was strong. One could trust this fact; he would not stand for an attempt to have it cut in two.

It was simple, she was his. He guarded what was his. He would go to the end of this earth to bring her back to him.

The air was crisp, with a bitter wind. His senses were keen. He could smell what lay before him and he was more than ready. Clothed for battle, warmth, and stealth, he looked foreign to the eye of the average Norseman. Travel had taught him much when it came to personal defense. His dress consisted of tight leather britches, a form of boot high on his leg made with the sturdy hide of animals never seen in his homeland and laced at the back of his calf. Some type of thin, interlocked metal fell like cloth down his chest and over his shirting, ending at his waist. Over that was a short cover of hide made from the animal whose fur lay over his shoulders. A sword, alleged by others to be forged and given to him by the Gods, hung across his back. This is how he appeared as he exited his private area.

Without his knowledge, his men had gathered on the deck and stood before him ready for battle.

"I have not requested this of you," his voice, strong, sturdy and commanding. "This is a private matter."

In unison, the men made a sound that only compared to the clipped roar of a fierce beast. The sound cut through the cold air, nothing else could be heard. It made clear that there would be no success in thwarting them this night.

"I shall only need a few," he told them with the pride that only they could evoke.

The ones that knew him best stepped forward without hesitation. The others regretted not having the opportunity.

As they made their way to fulfill this quest, his thoughts were of her. "Soon, very soon," he told himself with the hope that she could hear him. He wanted the power of what surged within him to gather and be carried by the winds, felt across her face.

"Trust this."

****************************

On his first encounter with her, with clarity he made it known to the people that he and his men were men of honor. They did not take part in the peddling and trading of flesh, as was the habit of most Greenlanders. There would be no captives taken to weigh him or what was his down. This gave some men hope and a sure death for others. The raid was on a certain foul and duplicitous clan that had stolen from the lands that he administered. In this village, he discovered the young woman with dark, twisted hair falling pass her shoulders and partially covering her face. Although he stood at a certain distance and was accompanied by men, she returned his gaze with no shame or fear. They were dark eyes that had seen things and contained no shock regarding what was taking place around her. He could not resist a closer look. It revealed skin, where dirt did not cover, that was the color of hazelnuts—a treat he enjoyed. Once heated, the treat had an unusual sweetness. Immediately he wondered if she would have the same flavor. Shame caused his face to redden. Such thoughts should not be entertained in such situations, by such a man.

It was apparent, her eyes missed nothing.

Helpless and worn in the corner of a wooden cage, she huddled herself. Treated like an animal, she wrapped herself in a blanket of threaded wool that barely covered her. The coldness that circulated assailed her without pity, causing her to tremble.

He knew the men that had taken her were heavily weighed down by superstitions. They were unjustifiable beliefs, only myths. That alone kept her living and free from defilement—at least in this place. These clansmen were in great fear of her. They thought the Blåmenn, the people of permanent darkness, possessed special powers. He thought it ridiculous that the color of her skin convinced them of such nonsense. They sought to possess her power and use it against their enemies. They waited for their many Gods to give them a sign of how to obtain it. But he had seen men of darker color possessing no more or less than he. Having traveled far in his Longships, he and his men had raided and traded along the coasts of France, Spain, Sicily, Italy and yes, North Africa. He was more than familiar with her people. As far as the power of Gods was concerned, he had seen people of many Gods and people of only one. Both, with their foolish rituals and vain patience, gave excuses for the lack of Godly demonstrations. Their excuses had no point and less reasoning.

One would think that the presence of their enemy standing in their midst with no fear of their Gods, as they begged for their lives, was a sign of their stupidity. He knew those who lived to see the completion of that day would remain blinded, still enslaved to baseless beliefs. Blindness would continue to let them think they had the right to enslave others.

With this thought in mind, he demanded that she be freed. This leader of men felt that every man and woman should have not only freedom of body but of will. Something about her made her freedom more important to him than the freedom of other slaves. Because she was the only one of her kind present, he reasoned that this was best. At least that was what he told himself.

However, she refused to come out. She clung to the corner of her cage, moving away from the outstretched hands of his men. She made growling sounds and hissed as if cursing them. When he walked up to the contraption that held her, he did not bend as the others did in an effort to put her at ease. There was no need for him to get on her level. The two of them had already established eye contact. She knew who he was. He bent his head slightly to one side and looked at her with an amused understanding. He knew that she fully recognized the reasoning behind his expression, stopping her insufferable clamoring. Then she pursed her lips, pouting, nostrils flaring in distaste.

He grinned as her eyes narrowed in anger. "Why you little bitch," he thought.

"Stay or leave," he announced. "The choice is yours."

She still did not move.

"You can gain comfort from the freedom we offer or stay here with what you know to be. It is a matter of trust that only you can extend. They will not continue to fear you eventually," he continued, now looking bored. "Their Gods are as uninterested in them as these people will soon be with you. Of course, they will have their retribution. The fool you have made of them will be obvious."

He had a feeling that his language created no barrier. It seemed as if she weighed his words and he had ultimately won.

She could not stand but managed to come through the opening.

He watched her body stretch in relief, as did his men. She was exceptionally shapely and his look was embarrassingly long.

He then turned to walk away.

"Burn it all until nothing remains. Kill all committing the offense and any that join in resistance. Examples should be set. Let the women and children find their own way. Do not harm them. Anyone that causes them harm shall be permanently marked, without mercy, by my own hand. Make sure that this is made clear." Although his orders seemed to be an afterthought thrown over his shoulder, there was undoubtable authority and meaning in his tone.

In her opinion, the men that came were more terrifying than those that held her captive-if not worse. She had watched the people of the village react as soon as they were informed that these men were coming. The men that came did not allot the villagers much time.

Listening carefully, she understood who was coming and why. She had not let her captors know that she had perfect command of their language. She understood and could speak many dialects. This had proven to be advantageous. Comfortable that they were not understood, they spoke freely around her. There were many things that she wished she had not heard.

Cursing the ones that were responsible for this threat, some villagers immediately fled. Others felt no need to run, feeling that the approaching men would only hunt them down and kill them. To them, running gave the assumption of guilt. Only a few were bold enough to think they could stand their ground and meet the coming challenge with success. Her owners were part of that group. This was not the first time she thought them stupid.

Simply put, there was no challenge. The men did not come with many. It was not the huge army described. However, they moved through the village with trained swiftness. Those men in the village that cooperated easily were placed on their knees in the market square, their hands behind their heads. That was a gift. Those that fought back or gave any type of resistance were killed with quick efficiency. She had to look away as some men were struck down. Some of the wives stood helpless, witnessing what was happening to their men. Some women attempted to fight. They were brushed away as insignificant.

It was easy to see who was in charge. Never before had she seen a man like him. His hair was untethered, long and flowing. A woman would be blessed to have such hair. There was nothing about him that made you think of a woman though. His body was strong. He was all man. Surety of his virility radiated from every pore. Little effort was put into this on his part. She could tell it was as natural for him as breathing. His face was clean shaven and his eyes were like ice, a blueness that was uniquely clear. She knew that he was not like others. When he focused on her, her assumption was proven correct. She froze under his gaze. She wondered if he was demon or god. He revealed nothing. She felt assessed and found unworthy. He moved on without incident. She was more than just relieved. Maybe her life would be spared.

If he or any of his men came close to her, she thought it best to continue her ruse. She must appear strong regardless of how weak she felt.

Once the men left, she would find some way to free herself. She was quite clever when called upon. Before there had been no need to escape, she was occasionally fed and free of any male misuse. Besides, where could she go? Blending in would be an impossibility for her. Not having the convenience of keeping herself clean was distasteful, but it only made her look more menacing.

When his men finally came for her, she feared for her life. Unlike the other women, she was just a slave to be used and discarded at whim. She had been sold or traded several times and quite lucky. However, this was the worst possible scenario. She was truly scared. Her situation looked desperate. She tried to continue her act. The men were either on to her or just not frightened. When he came, she knew that her game was up. She could see it in his eyes. It was as if he was mocking her.

He offered her freedom, something she hardly believed. Generally when offered freedom it came with unattainable attachments. He appeared to care less as far as her decision was concerned. However, some of his words were true and without embellishments. What choice did she have? To stay, even if she managed to get out of the cage, was dangerous.

She had to practically crawl to get out of her holding cell.

Once out she stretched. Her body ached all over. She felt them watching her. When she looked, it was confirmed. She recognized the look in their eyes. She recognized the look in his eyes. This further scared her. Were they going to use her? Would she survive such a thing? Maybe she could be his and the others would stay away. He did not look like the type of man that shared. When he turned to walk away, the other men continued on with their tasks at hand. Relief overwhelmed her. These men not only appeared different, they were different. She would go where they went. Maybe there were more of such men. Maybe she could find some type of safety with them. It had been a long time since she felt safe, and that was short lived.

The girl had conceded, but he knew immediately that her trust would be hard won. While mounting his horse he could see that she was smart enough to follow them, but cautious enough to remain at a distance.

He slowed his progress to accommodate her pace. She definitely lacked a certain gracefulness. The breaking of branches and disturbance of leaves made her position obvious. Her command of his language, though tainted with an unfamiliar accent, was undeniable. He could clearly hear her profanities with each misstep, something most likely due to lack of proper foot wrappings. She often stumbled. She fell once and he considered sending someone to get her, but thought better of it.

The words that he had shared with her assured her of a certain amount of security. He could not leave her among those he had found her with. That would only result in a return to her previous situation. Even the women would feel free to abuse her. He could not allow that. However, her presence on his ship would definitely agitate his men. After all was said and done, they were just males and she a female. He found no favor in the possible abuse of women.

With great irascibility, he gave in to his better self. A nod of his head directed toward her location caused two of his men to retrieve her from an attempt to hide behind a tree. She fought them to no avail. He found the effort itself amusing. He admired her spirit.

He pulled her up onto his horse so that she rode in front of him. She swore again as he removed the space between them. Unlike what the other two men were subjected to, she did not attempt to fight him. With the unusual styling of her hair somewhat in his face, it interested him. Close proximity revealed thin, rope like, interwoven strands. This had to be something unnatural and created by herself. He had never seen it before. He wondered what possessed her to do such a thing to her hair. He also wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

Riding beside him was his oldest friend, raising a questioning eyebrow. He chose to simply ignore him. He had no answers.

They continued in silence until they reached a river. Men were there waiting to retrieve the horses. The man and his men boarded a ship that appeared too large for the river. The man then handed her to someone else.

She protested again. With one look from him, she quieted.

All of the men were much taller and athletic than the ones that she was accustomed to. They handled her roughly with little effort. Too, she had never actually been in anything other than a lake or the like. She tried hard not to show fear.

Surprisingly, the ship navigated the shallow waters easily. Once in open water, several ships waited—fierce and imposing. Shields aligned the sides. A few men transferred to one, bringing her along kicking and cursing.

It mattered not what vessel they were aboard, she noticed the men not fulfilling assignments stared at her as if she had horns and breathed fire. She was more revealed than others, having not been given warmer wear. When the temperature fell, she knew that she would die on the floor of this open aired ship, with the rhythm of rowing traveling with her into the afterlife. The men seemed oblivious to her plight and stared regardless. Once recovered from a sickness that had suddenly overtook her, the girl returned to intermittently hissing and growling at the men. It seemed to work.

For the most part, the man in charge ignored her. However, her current behavior caught his attention.

"Please," he said as if talking to a child, "do you not grow tired of that ridiculous game?"

With a smug expression, she lifted her head and turned away.

He fully laughed for the first time that day. To him, she was quite amusing.

They then came alongside a more magnificent, grander ship that left her gawking. Her jaw dropped. The head of a fierce eagle decorated the ship's prows, with long wings falling back as if ready to dive and retrieve its prey. The sight of it frightened her. She was suddenly hoisted up and then dragged by the arm to a lower area. Slung into what looked like a room, she was left alone.

He commanded that she reside in his personal area, the only real privacy to be found on his Longship. Such an area was unusual, but he had this ship especially made for him. This was his home.

When he finally came, he found her curled up in a corner. Only after some time was he able to convince her to sleep on his makeshift bed. There she sat balled up again. He assumed that she feared he might bed her. He found this irritating since he had no intention to do so. He slept upright, opposite of her, against a wall. He had slept in worse positions and in worse places. The one that he took now was not out of fear. He thought it best to watch her and put some distance between them since she had proven herself to be quite unpredictable.

He communicated with her freely and in his own tongue right from the start, but she refused to make an effort to do the same. The arrogant rise of her head or the narrowing of her eyes was all he received. At first she refused to eat the food, but that soon changed. He was given nothing for the kindnesses he extended. He often wondered how she had managed to stay alive for so long. There were moments when he thought of grabbing her by the neck and choking the life out of her. He was certain that it had entered the mind of another. He concluded that the most frightful of demons would be more bearable than she was.