Chapter 1
Astrange coldness invaded Wolf.
He had just bought himself a slave.
How on earth had this happened? He had not come to town with the intention of doing such a thing.
In fact, his whole body rebelled at the idea of owning another human being but his attention had been caught on the way back from the port by a cheering crowd and he had arrived in time to see the slave trader uncover his last offering, the beautiful Saxon woman.
Up until then her face had been hidden under a rough cloth bag, presumably in the hope of raising the men’s expectations and stir them into offering wild sums for her, just as he had done.
Why had he been pushed into such an act as buying another person?
Because there had not been any other choice, that was why.
As soon as he had set eyes on her Wolf had known he would buy her.
It was not her extraordinary beauty that had decided him, even if he had been just as stunned as the rest of the men by her looks.
It was the air of defiance about her. Although she was plainly bewildered and afraid, she was standing up for herself, or at least trying to.
Well, he was not tied up and helpless. He would come to her aid.
No one else would have her, touch her or even leer at her for a moment longer.
If she was to be sold then he would be the one to buy her.
He walked to the platform, wondering if his purse even held the promised sum. In the heat of the moment he had not stopped to check how much coin he had on him.
“Wait!” a voice from the other side of the crowd shouted. “I will bid on the girl as well.”
A moment later a blond man came to stand in front of him.
“No, you won’t,” Wolf growled, straightening up to his full height. “Not unless you want to spend the rest of your life sipping gruel like an old man, that is. I will fight you for her and what’s more, I will win.”
The man instantly recoiled. Evidently he had not seen who he was dealing with and he could not help being impressed by his opponent’s stature.
Wolf knew many a man found him forbidding and never had he been more grateful for his physique than now.
He wouldn’t have to lift a finger to ensure the girl left the place as his.
“Well?” the slave trader enquired, hoping to get even more money for the sale.
“Well nothing. The girl is mine,” Wolf answered with decision, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him. He did not seem ready to challenge him but it was best to leave no doubt in his mind.
“Let the man name his price first.”
“It’s not a question of price. If anyone wants her they will have to get through me first.” Wolf drew a knife from the sheath at his belt and waited, knowing the man would never dare challenge him now. He had gone a sickly shade of gray at the sight of the blade.
Without a word he faded back into the crowd. Unsurprisingly, no one else came forward.
Wolf had won. Grunting, he threw his purse at the slave trader. Then he turned his attention back to the girl.
Through half-opened eyelids Merewen saw a man walk up to her. No, not a man but something much worse, a giant armed with a knife and snarling at her. Her whole body lurched in terror.
Merciful heavens, was he going to kill her?
Forgetting for a moment that she was tied to the post, she made to flee, only to be stopped by the rope digging painfully into her wrists.
She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath.
This was a nightmare and she was about to wake up.
It was the only thing that made sense. Why else would she be here, trussed up like an animal, exposed to a crowd of leering men and about to be killed by a scowling demon?
Her head was swimming, yet another proof that she was not in her normal sate.
The last thing she remembered was attending her brother’s funeral and wishing she could retire to her chamber to finally allow herself to grieve.
Evidently she had fallen asleep crying and, in her sorrow, had conjured up a frightful nightmare.
But if it was a dream, why was she conscious of dreaming?
Why was she so cold? Why could she hear the men speaking in languages she wasn’t even aware existed?
Another tug at the rope at her wrists confirmed it. This was no dream. It was all too real.
With a moan of powerlessness she closed her eyes and stopped moving. If the man wanted to kill her there was nothing she could do to stop him. She might as well try to preserve the last scrap of dignity a half-naked, tied up woman could possess.
The sound of coins being passed from hand to hand reached her ears, followed by a wheezy voice she didn’t recognize.
“She’s yours.”
A moment later an arm wrapped around her waist and she found herself pressed against a rock hard body.
The pleasure of that contact took her by surprise.
She had been about to collapse in terror and the support the man provided was highly welcome, as was the heat emanating from his chest and the fact that he was now hiding her exposed breasts to the crowd of onlookers.
She felt him raise his arm above her head to cut the bonds tying her to the post.
So that was why he had drawn his knife… He had not intended to kill her, but to free her.
Her arms fell down, and her body instantly sagged.
The man tightened his hold around her and grunted, the sound of someone dissatisfied more than really angry.
She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of blue irises that despite the icy color seemed to burn her with their heat.
Something unfurled within her, a kind of blooming sensation originating somewhere in her chest and spreading through her whole body with alarming speed.
The man’s jaw tightened, as if he experienced the exact same thing and did not know what to make of it either.
For a moment time suspended its flight and she forgot the cold.
Then he put his knife away in his belt and, before she could say or do anything, swept her into his arms.
It was only when he walked down the platform that Merewen understood that she had been bought as a slave.
At first she had been too relieved to see that the man was not going to kill her, too comforted by his strength and warmth to realize the full implications of what had happened. But now it hit her with the force of a lightening bolt splitting a tree in two.
She had been bought by a stranger and that stranger was carrying her away to… to where exactly?
She shook her head. Where mattered little.
What mattered was what would happen once they got there.
Her new owner was impossibly strong – how else would he be able to carry her as easily as if she was a child?
– and determined to have her in his bed – why else would he have bought a woman whose breasts had been exposed?
Against such a man she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Her only option was to escape. Now, before he had taken her to wherever he intended to take her. She instantly started kicking and writhing.
“No!” she cried out. “Let me go, put me down!”
The hold around her only tightened. “I won’t put you down.
You are barely able to stand,” the man said calmly.
“And I won’t let you go. You are half-naked.
Trust me, it wouldn’t be in your best interest to wander the streets in such a state.
Now, stop wriggling or I will have to throw you over my shoulder.
It will be more comfortable for me, but not for you. ”
This answer left Merewen speechless, so much so that she indeed stopped struggling and allowed the stranger to carry her away.
He was right, in a half-torn shift and with her head swimming, she was in no state to do anything.
Night was falling fast. Where would she go, alone and with no money?
She had no idea where they were. Evidently, a large town, but that hardly signified, as she did not recognize it.
Besides, she needed to understand how she could have ended up being sold as a slave, and the man was the only one who might answer her questions.
He spoke her language well enough, even if she detected an accent in the way he spoke, an accent that gave his words a hard edge that was not unpleasant.
Soon they walked past a group of men laughing by a fire. One of them called out in their direction.
“Wolf! There you are! Come join us for a drink!”
The man did not even slow down. “Not now. Go and tell Eirik he can ride without me. I can’t come tonight.”
Someone answered in a foreign tongue and all the men laughed, nodding toward Merewen in understanding.
Her cheeks flamed red. They thought her owner was carrying her away somewhere to have his way with her, just as she had feared.
Before she could panic anew, a deep rumble resonated in her captor’s chest and he answered in the same language, something sharp and biting, evidently a rebuke.
The men lowered their eyes to the floor and looked contrite.
Merewen shivered. What sort of a man had she been sold to?
Impossibly strong, forbidding enough to silence five jeering men with a few words, and called… Wolf?
Perhaps she should try to escape, torn shift or not.