Hakan closed the tavern door, shutting away the voices. Clean ocean air caressed her cheeks a better aroma than the smoky room. Torch light jabbed the darkness, but Hakan’s presence chased away fear better than any flame.

She studied his stark profile. “This news of the king and his son bothers you greatly.”

The hard, flat line of his mouth, the distance in his eyes, and her new husband withdrew. Words would come, but her heart sunk a little, needing him.

Of course the news from Uppsala was bad. Blood would be shed.

Ahead, the ship listed on pitch black water. Hakan pulled her along, pebbles and sand crunching underfoot. Her steps quickened to match his long strides.

“Hakan, please slow down or unloose your grip. I can’t keep up with you.”

Ice-blue eyes flashed at her, but he eased his pace, his warm hand holding her tight. At the shoreline, he moved to pick her up, but she batted his arm.

“Stop,” she said, catching her breath. “I would know your thoughts.” She touched his arm. “Besides this is our wedding night.”

The moon cast shadows and light over his face. Broad shoulders set an impenetrable wall, but his words were gentle.

“You deserve better than this.” Tense lines etched his mouth.

She reached up and stroked his jaw smoothly shaved from their wedding morning. “I want you.”

Hakan’s breath caught. Calloused fingers slipped over her nape. He pulled her close, kissing the crown of her head. “I can smell the lavender on you from this morning.”

“When we were peacefully wed.” She rested against his chest, his strong, steady heartbeat under her ear. The ocean rushed the shoreline, tumbling salt water under their feet. Her head tilted back. “I would know the lay of your thoughts.”

Tendrils of hair floated across her cheeks, catching on the corners of her mouth. His thumb traced her cheek, her lips. “I’m bothered by these rumors, but that’s what they are — rumors. Men can be the worst gossips. Worse than women,” he scoffed. “I can’t act on the unknown. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I did.”

“Where you are today?” She repeated, her tone light and teasing. “You mean standing on these cold Frankish shores, your boots getting wet?”

He cracked a smile. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, my lord and husband.” She leaned her breasts into his leather clad chest. “You’re troubled that you can’t answer your own questions about this rebellion. It’s why you kept touching your axe in the tavern.”

Ice-blue eyes narrowed on what she guessed to be her truth telling. “I prefer the spirited wench who kissed me over this talk of rebellion.”

“You liked that, did you?” Her laughter was lost in the crash of a bigger wave.

He kissed her soundly, a hard press of lips burning her to the soles of her feet. “This is our wedding night, wife. I would not spend it talking on the shores of Frankia.”

Hakan scooped her into his arms and waded into the ocean. Cold water crashed around his thighs. She burrowed into the fur mantle, glad for the rich deep, curl of joy wrapping around them both.

Reaching the vessel, he handed her over to one of the warriors keeping watch. She waited for Hakan to haul himself over the ship’s rail. He dismissed the warriors, bidding them enjoy the evening.

“Have you any of those mint leaves?” she asked.

He pulled green sprigs from a pouch on his belt. Placing them in her hand, his fingers skimmed her palm. Her heart beat faster against her breastbone. This was going to happen. Now. Tonight. She would lay with him. Something she’d wanted for a long time.

Textured leaves tickled her tongue, bursting freshness in mouth with each bite. Hakan led her to the same small hold she knew well. They bent their bodies into the narrow space crammed with goods. 

She licked her lips, mint tingling in her mouth. Crouching under the low ceiling, Hakan spread a large bear pelt. Their bed. She stared enthralled at the play of his thigh muscles, the size of his hands.

“Can you smell the spices?” She asked, taking a deep breath. “I smell peppercorns. They’re quite strong.” Her nose tipped high, sniffing the air. “When you were gone, someone must’ve traded for cinnamon and…anise?”

Slivered light broke the darkness from hold’s door. Comforting sounds filled the hold…Hakan unclasping his pen-annular ring, water slapping the ship…

She folded her legs beneath her, keeping her lashes low. Her fur mantle brushed her neck, soft and warm. The smells of his ship, the oiled wood–

A beckoning hand touched hers. “Helena. Don’t be afraid.”

“I know.” Her fingers wrapped over his.

Wolfish blue eyes bore into her before Hakan yanked off his tunic.

“This isn’t so different than summer nights talking and touching on another fur pelt, is it?” she murmured. “The only difference…this floor sways.”

A low masculine chuckle filled the hold. “This night will be different.” He paused and reached for her. “Come. Let me hold you.” 

She needed his closeness, the feel of his skin to calm the tumult inside her. Inching between his legs, the fine mantle slipped off her shoulders. Large arms cradled her close. This was peace. And love.

Their bodies rocked with the ship’s gentle motion. Hakan stroked her hair, so tender. She smiled against his skin. Her fierce Viking gentled her.

She traced his silver armband, the metal warm from his body. Her fingers trailed the hills and trenches of his arms. His scent of leather and the Frankish soap he used lured her. Her body fit his, swaying with the vessel.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Hakan whispered Viking words she’d not yet learned. His lips grazed her temple, her ear, lower to her neck. She shivered at new pleasures spreading like a warm blanket over her skin. Such tender kisses…

How could a warrior of great size kiss this softly?

He loosened the cross straps on his wet boots, his breath stirring the hair behind her ear. The first boot dropped with a muffled thud, rousing her from a muddled state. She tugged on the straps of his other boot.

“Helena.” Hakan caught her wrists. “Helena, I’m sorry that our first night together as man and wife must be here.” He let go of her hands, his gaze darting around the ship’s small hold. “I wanted much more for you.”

She shuddered at his husky voice. Heat and fullness flooded her breasts, down her belly, between her legs. If he only knew how his tender attentions lulled her better than an eiderdown bed.

“Let me touch you,” she said, her voice quavering.

Hakan shifted to reach for her, but she stopped him.

“No.” Her voice came stronger. “I will do the touching. At least for a time.” She placed his hands on the floor on either side of his hips. “Keep your hands here.”

Light slanted across his eyes widening at her bold request, but Hakan kept his hands in place.

The need to explore took over. Seeking fingertips grazed light circles across ridges of muscle. His body jolted, tensing beneath her hands at those feather light touches. She skimmed his chest hair and before her eyes his nipples tightened with pleasure.

Her breath came heavier, matching Hakan’s. She reveled in the play. The hard width of his chest. The small circles of his nipples. The curving muscles of his arms. Her fingers trailed down to his strong hands roped by veins, scarred and calloused by battles past.

Like a bold forest sprite, she nipped his chest, one side and then the other. Nibbles really. A lick. The tip of her tongue. This way and that.

Air hissed loudly over her head. Hakan’s sharp breath. One. Then another. His fingertips whitened on the planks. She picked up one hand and kissed the soft spot at the base of his thumb, sucking on the flesh. His body jerked at the brazen contact. Hakan’s other hand flew to her hip, gripping and kneading.

“Ah, my lord, for a time you must do my bidding.” She pulled away the offending hand with a daring smile and set his back on the floor.

Power spun in her, the feel of it like a long draught of honeyed mead. She sucked his finger, glad her warrior’s threads of control were snapping. Her tongue swirled around his long finger. Her mouth pulled, tasting the salt of his skin. She yelped at the sudden turn of Hakan flipping her onto her back.

He leaned over her, his touches feverish. He rubbed her body, the linen tunic the only barrier. She groaned from the fabric’s sweet friction on bothered skin. Her body arched into his skilled touch stroking her hips, sliding over her waist.

She shut her eyes. Everything burned with need, hot as water sizzling on a cooking pot. Hakan curled his fist into her hair and tipped her head. A hundred pricks tingled her scalp.

“Ohhhhh, Ha—”

Her plea stayed undone. The Viking chieftain covered her mouth, kissing her deeply. The fragile tease of mint was the only delicate thing between them. He bruised her lips and she bruised him back. Their tongues danced in and out of their mouths, frantic and needy.

Her hands wrapped around his head before wandering lower to unloose the leather tie at his nape. Long, white-blond hair fell free, draping the sides of her face. He pulled away, his mouth hovering close to hers. His labored breaths brushed her cheek, her chin, her lips. They were in a private world, untouched by anything but this yearning.

Hakan’s light blue eyes gleamed. His nostrils flared, as though he scented her. The wolfish warrior had replaced the stoic chieftain. She searched his face, hungry for every detail…the hard angle of his jaw, the gold-brown brows thick over his eyes, the strong nose, a fine line for a warrior.

He braced his hands on the floor, hips shifting into the cradle of her hips. Her lips curved to a bigger smile.

“This is good,” she murmured. “We’ll go slow and–ahhhh–” Her hips shot up as the cry burst from her lips. Pleasure singed her limbs.

Hakan rubbed his shaft between her legs.

Eyes wide, her mouth dropped open. He pressed his shaft between her legs, brushing and grinding. His hardness teased her made worse from her linen tunic and his trousers, barriers between her hot flesh and his. One corner of his mouth curled up. The man was satisfied with her reaction.

The slow stroke scorched pleasure from head to toe. Towering over her, he positioned his body to do it again.

Like a desperate wench, she seized his hips. There had to be a wet spot on her tunic.

“What was that you said about going slow?” His wolfish smile was white in the darkness.

Her head lifted off the pelt. From head to toe, flesh and sinew hungered, greedy for elusive feelings.

“Hakan,” she cried. “I…”

Her breath skipped in her chest. Heart pounding, she didn’t know what to say.

Kiss me…Take off my clothes… Don’t stop what you’re doing…

And he rolled off her, keeping his frame pressed against hers. The craving pulsing inside her.

“Helena, I wanted something different for you.” His voice was hoarse, thick with need she suspected.

She kissed his chest. “Different?” Her hands sought the hem of her tunic. She would be rid of the garment.

His gaze slanted down to the skirt going up her thighs. “I wanted to be slower. We’re moving too fast.”

“Too fast?”

Off went the tunic. Long tresses curtained her to her hips. Hakan’s stare burned, locked on one spot. Looking down, she caught sight of what snared him. Her nipples peeked through a skein of dark hair.

Calloused fingers brushed her hair aside, the friction sparking another fire. His thumb rolled a gentle circle on one nipple. Bliss thrummed her veins. Her breasts thrust forward. Her mouth opened. Whimpering moans came from her. The coarse bear pelt rubbed her backside while rough-skinned fingers played with her tenderest flesh. Hakan stared, fascinated with her breasts, his light caresses pushing her to a cliff of need.

She could lie this way a long time, but Hakan was half-dressed. Though they said not a word, she glanced at his trousers wet from wading through the ocean. He followed her sightline, his hand giving up fondling her when her fingers curled around the top of his trousers and tugged.

The mystery of men was at long last revealed to her.

Hakan reclined before her, dim light washing over every naked inch of him. He was as comfortable naked as he was in leather. His long blond hair draped wide shoulders, some strands reaching over his chest, a chest honed from battle, scattered with scars. Rows of muscle knotted his stomach. Long, strong legs stretched over the pelt. Even his feet looked beautiful, long and well-formed, the arch begging to be kissed.

But between his legs…the hard length of him jutted high.

One curious finger traced him from the top of his thighs. Her lone finger trailed the underside of his maleness, circling the tip. Light, grazing circles. Mesmerizing. Inquisitive. She played with him, leaning in for a closer look.

His hands fisted the pelt. Small beads of sweat sprung from his body. 

“Helena.” His breath sucked inward, carrying her name.

She understood his need. Her eyes locked with his, her body drugged and heady for looking into his eyes. She lay down on the bear pelt and spread her legs wide for him.

Naked.

Open.

Trusting. The end of one life and the beginning of another.

Hakan moved over her and she shivered. The cool air, the heat of her husband’s body, his leg hairs tickling her.

She pulled his head down to hers. “Kiss me.”

He did. With scorching slowness, his mouth caressing hers. Desire built. Fullness in her breasts. Embers spreading across her belly. Water struck a rhythm against the ship. Amidst the kisses, his fingers reached between her legs and started stroking her. Her eyes flared wide at the simple touch of his fingers down there. She heard her groans of pleasure in the small hold.

Her body melted. Hakan commanded her, parting slick folds of skin between her legs. With every kiss, every touch of his hands, her hips bucked and swayed, reaching for a place not yet known.

Her body jumped with the shock of his touch exploring her. A finger tip slipping inside her.

“Hakan,” she cried, curling like a cat, wailing a keening cry of ecstasy.

A peak of satisfaction. One hand clawed the bear pelt, the other grabbed Hakan. Panting and gasping for breath, she couldn’t get enough air.

“What…was…that?” 

Hakan’s wet finger trailed up her body. Brushing back her hair, he dropped small kisses on her damp forehead. “That, wife, was the beginning of my love for you.”

“The beginning?” she asked at once sinuous and spent. Her heart banged hard inside her chest. Between her legs, the skin twitched nicely.

He kissed her cheek bones, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. “The beginning of the rest of tonight…of the rest of our lives.”

“There is more?” Tremors rocked her body.

Hakan took her hand and placed it on the hardness between his legs. “There is more.” He kissed a trail down her neck.

Strange, pleasing heat flowered again. Urgent pressure formed in her hips. She needed him, her hands on him, discovering the curve of his buttocks. She liked the top of his leg where the muscles creased with the supple hardness. Hakan covered her body with his, bracing his hands on either side of her face.

“Helena…” There was tightness around his mouth, his eyes. “You know this first time will hurt.”

“I know, my love.” Tipping her head back, she reached between her legs and guided him to her.

It was clear what fit and where, but what to do? Quivers played across her flesh, nerves and pleasure bundled together. Holding him in her hand, she played, tittering nervously until the shocking connection was made. His smooth, rounded tip eased into her.

Her eyes widened at the searing desire to fill herself with him.

“Does it hurt now?” His voice was deep and thick.

“Nay…it–” She sucked in her breath, “–you feel–” She pushed more. “–good.”

Building need made her hips rock back and forth, up and down. Her legs bent at the knees, allowing him to push further inside her. Her body trembled, ignoring the pain. She reveled in the newness, her eyes spreading wide.

“Helena?” Hakan kissed and soothed her.

She thrust hard and deep against him.

Pain speared her. The shattering feel like dropping a glass vial. Glass splintered everywhere, at once beautiful yet sharp. Her lungs labored, sucking deep breaths. Pain lingered but less so. A new sensation flooded her, enticing and warm.

“Ohhhhh, Hakan,” she moaned, her hips wriggling.

“Take your pleasure, Helena,” he whispered before devouring her lips.

All of her opened to him. Her mouth, her body, her heart and soul.  Rocking and swaying against each other, they moved as one slow at first, then faster. Stinging heat between her legs melted into bliss…deep, hot, and sweet.

They pitched back and forth. Harder. Faster. The ship could be lurching from a storm for all she knew. Sweat pricked her skin. Her body shook and trembled. She held on tight to Hakan.

Sweat sheened his back. His hoarse, fast breaths matched his thrusting hips. Air whooshed from her lungs. She cried out, broken yet mended by colors, bursts of sunlight, light and darkness enveloping her. Circles of pleasure flickered and danced, starting inside her and rippling out, licking a blazing trail.

She lay spent, her limbs tangled with his. Their breaths mingled loud in the belly of the ship. Neither said a word. The vessel creaked. Wind blew outside. The ocean tapped the ship. Whatever went on in the world didn’t matter. Hakan stayed inside her, the most primal connection matched by his love. She was warm and safe. And sated.

Her warrior husband lifted his head, whispering unknown Viking words, tender words by the sound. He rolled onto his side and cupped her into his warmth. He tucked her head under his chin, throwing his red woolen mantle over them both.

Lying thus, bone deep contentment seeped into her. The ship nestled them. Drifting off to sleep, she was certain she heard Hakan whisper, “I love her, I love her, I love her…”