Bound Together
Author: Christine Feehan
Date: 2017-03-21 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: bondage; submission; motorcycle club; Bdsm; Norway
Description: #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan’s Sisters of the Heart series comes to a climactic end as a mysterious man from Blythe Daniels’ past re-enters her life. ** On the shores of Sea Haven, six women touched by great loss have come together in a sisterhood strengthened by the elements—a bond each will need as new love and danger enter their lives... For five years, Viktor Prakenskii has put his life on hold in order to take down the world’s most feared motorcycle club from the inside. But carrying out the insane violence and seeing the club’s exploitation of the innocent has br
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

Nordic Bound

The Nordic Lights Series

Christine Edwards

Fanny Press

PO Box 70515

Seattle, WA 98127

For more information go to: www.fannypress.com
www.christineedwardsauthor.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Sabrina Sun

Nordic Bound

Copyright © 2016 by Christine Edwards

ISBN: 978-1-60381-554-3 (Trade Paper)

ISBN: 978-1-60381-555-0 (eBook)

Produced in the United States of America

* * *

To Shelly who taught me the meaning of the term “best friend.”

* * *

Special Thanks

To every reader and reviewer who has carved time out of their busy schedules to read one of my books. A deep, heartfelt thank you.

To Jennifer and Catherine for taking a chance on an unknown Southern author. I’m beyond grateful.

To my relatives in Oslo, much love and thanks.

* * *

Prologue

2:17 a.m.

Sørkedalen

30 Minutes/16 km North of Oslo, Norway

That fucking owl! How’s a guy supposed to get a decent night’s sleep? I punch the pillow and flip over onto my back, grumbling in annoyance as I glance over at the glowing clock beside the bed. Unbelievable, nearly the exact same time every night this week!

“You’ve gotta be joking,” I mutter angrily into the darkness.

Blowing out a long, frustrated sigh, I stare up at the rafters as he decides to go for round two of his haunting hoots.

Fantastic. Yet another sleepless night ahead, but hey, at least I’m just about caught up on my never-ending barrage of work, even at the expense of becoming a borderline insomniac out here in what’s supposed to be my retreat from the relentless stress of the city.

The owl is silent for a moment and I go completely still, thinking that maybe he’s taken off to bother someone else. I groan as his eerie cries start up again, but this time they’re noticeably different. Something’s not right. His call is piercing and far clearer than before; it’s as if I’m sitting in the tree with the damned thing! My muscles instantly tense up and my nerves are as taut as a zip line. A window or door must be open …. Shit! Someone’s inside my fucking house!

I bolt upright and in one fluid motion rip away the feather duvet. In seconds my bare feet are pounding across the teak floor, racing furiously toward the lone staircase that leads down to my front door.

I can’t believe this shit! How in the hell did someone bypass my security system? A potent shot of adrenaline pumps through my veins as I crash down the shadowed steps, taking them two at a time, not giving a flying fuck that I’m wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. My suspicion is confirmed when I feel the drastic change in temperature.

Whoever’s inside will soon wish they were never born ….

I land hard on the slate floor and my eyes track the movement of the front door as it’s pulled shut from the outside. I lunge forward, reaching for the door, forcing it open with one arm while grabbing blindly for the dark mass with the other. My hand connects with the hood of a black parka and a feminine cry rings out, momentarily stunning me.

The intruder begins a furious struggle, using strategic kicks and punches to shake loose from my tight grip, desperate to escape under the cover of night with whatever she has pilfered from my home. Nope. Not going to happen. No one steals from me. Ever.

I let go of the door and bind both her arms in a vice-like grip, forcing her into submission while preventing the use of any weapon she might have on her.

She writhes like a wild animal, doing anything in her limited range to escape into the frigid night.

“Agh!” Pain shoots through my bare toes as she stomps brutally on them with her boots. You wanna play rough? You got it sweetheart. Here we go ….

With one leg, I take out both of hers and follow her down to the floor, landing squarely on top of her heaving chest. My weight is pressing into her and I narrow my eyes as I lower my head to get an up-close look at the thief.

The snow is blowing in on us viciously, but there is no fucking way I’m releasing her to flip on a light switch.

I use my right forearm to press harder into her, making certain that she is thoroughly immobilized beneath me. Her breath is coming out in shallow, choppy pants. She’s absolutely petrified. She should be. She needs to know that sneaking into my home can be lethal. Soon she’ll understand the grave mistake she’s made, and God help her if she really has stolen from me.

She’s twisting like an eel, but it gets her nowhere. I’m easily twice her size, if not more. We’re both huffing hard, and a tremendous effort is required to get my anger in check as I swiftly peel away the ski mask from her face. I blink twice, momentarily astounded by the woman staring up at me. Long wisps of icy blonde hair lie in sexy disarray across her magnificent face, but it’s her unusual eyes that mesmerize me. They glitter in jade fury and I have to suck in a breath while losing a battle not to go instantly rock hard on top of this intoxicating vixen.

She must be Scandinavian, judging by her angular features, creamy skin tone, and pale hair. I’m shocked by how young she appears; she can’t be more than twenty years old.

I glance back toward the door to make sure she is alone and am just about to kick it closed with my foot when she surprises me by jerking an arm free. She curls her fingers as she reaches for my face, trying her best to scratch me in the eyes.

I lock my fingers around her slim wrist and give her a rough warning shake before growling down at her menacingly, “Behave.”

All she can do is narrow her eyes because both her wrists are held tight in my grasp. I slowly push myself off her, deciding it’s time to talk. I need to shut that damned door because the cold is so fucking arctic tonight that the wind is making my back burn like it’s on fire.

I pull us both up onto our feet before taking a wide step back to kick the door shut. Just as it slams, she makes her move, nailing me fast and hard in the balls with her knee. I grunt like an animal and double over from the searing pain that’s just made it impossible to breathe. Somehow I manage to keep my grip on her wrists, but she’s already going all out with the legs, kicking me anywhere she can connect.

“Enough!” I manage to shout at her. My rough command has no effect; instead it seems to spur her on. She steps close and bites my fucking bicep with enough force that I have to let her go. I’m shocked. Who in their right mind bites? Only someone totally fucking desperate and completely out of options.

Instinctively I clutch the bleeding wound, giving her a tiny window of opportunity to try and get around me. I sidestep, missing her by only a few centimeters as she flings open the door.

I let go of my arm and lunge, managing to clasp a handful of hair. With a frantic cry, she turns back to me and I see the flash of a small blade in her left hand. I’m not stupid; I know she’s desperate enough to cut me if it means getting away but I’m still determined not to release her. I set my jaw and hold her challenging stare. She raises the blade, poised to stab me, and I instantly choose self-preservation, reluctantly opening my hand. I watch helplessly as she slowly backs away into the night and that’s when I see the small dark messenger bag, snug across her body. Panic grips me as I realize the unthinkable is going down. She’s getting away with my most prized possession—a priceless artifact that my family has risked their lives to keep safe.

Hell no, not fucking going to happen!

If I have to kill her to get it back then I will. My eyes track from the bag back up to hers, now filled with both panic and determination. Breaking my stare, she twists around and begins to run through the driving snow, sprinting across my field as if twelve ravenous Dobermans were giving chase.

“Fuck!” I roar out into the frosty night.

No time, move! In a frenzy I race to the adjacent mudroom, shove my feet into the first pair of boots I can find, and toss on a parka. Next I unlatch the gun case and grab my loaded rifle. You’re about to meet your worst damned nightmare, sweetheart.

Hauling ass after her, I can just make out her figure in the distance. If she gets all the way to that tree line then it’s game over.

I stop, position the rifle and take aim. I’ve hunted this land ever since I was a small boy. I know I can stop her, especially with the night vision scope that’s attached to my rifle. I peer through the lens and in seconds have her small head locked dead in the center of my crosshairs. My finger is touching the cold metal trigger, slowly beginning to depress, when for reasons that are a mystery to me, I have a sudden change of heart. I decide to warn the girl before I take her life. I lower the weapon just enough to shout through the black night, “Halt or I’ll shoot!

I jerk back into position. What the hell? If anything she’s speeding up! Goddamn it!

Again I draw a bead on her with my weapon. Seconds tick by and my chest tightens. I’m reluctant to injure the strange girl, but I take too long weighing my options. Just before she reaches the tree line, I fire, deciding at the last second to graze the top of her right shoulder. My aim is true. Her shrill scream rips through the bitter air and she falls facedown into the snow. I needed to stop her, not kill her, and given the circumstances, this is the lesser of two evils. The high caliber bullet is powerful, doing its job with the efficiency of a dark angel of death. I toss the strap of my rifle across my body and begin jogging through the fresh snow.

I can hear her cries of agony as I close in on her. I watch in disbelief as she struggles first up to her knees and then onto both feet. My jog turns into a flat-out run as she begins to stagger the last few steps toward the trees. My bare legs are freezing but adrenaline masks the pain. My eyes stay locked on her pale hair as she enters the labyrinth and I hear the whirring sound of an engine start up. No, no, no! She’s got a damn snowmobile. Shit!

A white cloud of air bursts from my burning lungs as I yell the single word, “Stop!”

I sprint for her, ignoring the agony that’s creeping across my exposed skin and the painful bounce of the long rifle against my back.

Nearly there ….

Dodging trees, I spy her single-seat black and silver Arctic Cat. My brain is demanding that I move faster but she’s already begun to take off down a small embankment that leads to a narrow trail. There’s no chance of catching her on foot. I swing my rifle around and hoist it up, pissed when I realize that the dense trees will make it impossible to land a shot. I snarl in disgust and shout at the top of my lungs, making certain that she can hear me, “The world isn’t big enough for you to hide from me! I will fucking find you!”

If I have to check every single hospital in Norway over the next twenty-four hours, I’ll gladly do it. She has to get that wound tended to somewhere. And when I find her, she’d better have my property. If she doesn’t, there’ll be hell to pay … like nothing she’s ever faced before.

Chapter One

Twelve Hours Earlier

Oslo

A Deal With The Devil

My right hand trembles inside my wool mitten, hovering just centimeters away from the chipped metal door. I glance down at my left hand to check the scrap of paper with my brother’s messy handwriting on it for the third time. This is the right place. I just didn’t think it would be a supremely creepy, seemingly abandoned boatyard on the outskirts of Oslo.

I go for it, knocking hard and fast, not wanting to lose the mountain of confidence I arrived with minutes ago.

I’ve heard horror stories about this group who call themselves, ‘The Norsemen.’ The stories were so vile that I can hardly believe they’re true. They’re white supremacists who have an uncanny knack for evading arrest. Their favorite pastime is terrorizing anyone who doesn’t look like them or more importantly, conform to their twisted Aryan ideals.

Apparently, their leader is way smarter than your average street thug, a guy my brother described as ‘Terror in skin.’

Suddenly the metal door swings wide, scraping shrilly against the scarred concrete. I fall back two steps as frozen blue eyes observe me ruthlessly, beginning at the top of my hair then slowly working their way down to my shearling boots and back up again.

Silence.

I clear my throat before managing to eke out a sound. This ogre of a man is unnerving, but I’m not one to back down from anyone.

“My name’s Ingvild and I need to speak with the guy in charge.”

The skinhead with the scar through his right eyebrow continues to stare blankly down at me. Finally his cruel lips tip up slightly at the corners, as if my bravado amuses him. One massive, black-laced boot moves back as his head jerks inside. That’s all he gives me—a barely perceptible head nod and a few inches of space to squeeze by his mammoth frame. As soon as I’m inside, he slams then locks the heavy door and strides past, leaving me to choose: follow behind or stay in the dank hallway.

I’m holding on by a thread and almost can’t force myself to enter such a pit, but I’ve thought it over a hundred times and see no other choice.

A wave of pot smoke is the first thing to hit my senses, followed by a heady mix of metal music interspersed with deep, masculine voices. Moving closer, I make out the repetitive snick of pool balls. Curling my mittens into tight fists, I do my best to try and quell the panic that’s so strong it’s making me nauseous. The skinhead is blocking the scene that awaits me. What I want more than anything is to get this over with and hopefully, if I’m really lucky, get the hell out of here in one piece. My brain pulls up the recent news flashes of brutal rapes that have happened in the center of Oslo. What the hell could happen to me, trapped inside of this derelict building with these violent men?

Several sets of denim legs come into view. The guy in front stops just a few feet away from the pool table and shifts to his right. I peer cautiously at the man who’s leaning down, poised to make what appears to be a difficult combination shot. He’s Norwegian without a doubt; his silver-blond hair is shaved all the way down to expose his scalp and from what I can see of his face, he’s strikingly handsome and younger than I expected—maybe just a couple years older than myself. He’s definitely not what you’d picture as the leader of a hate group. Who knows, maybe this guy is just the leader’s front man? On closer inspection, I note that his features are severe and as symmetrical as a model’s and his arms are toned to perfection. He’s wearing a fitted white T-shirt, dark designer jeans, and a pair of immaculate red Adidas sneakers. The temperature inside this unheated building couldn’t be much warmer than the frigid air outdoors, yet he’s the only one not wearing a coat. How odd. Before I have time to make any more observations, he flawlessly sinks the two solids he was going for.

He stands upright and juts his chin at the man beside me—waiting for some kind of introduction, I guess. The intimidating man only nods once to him and at that moment I think there’s a better than average chance the hulking guy could be mute.

His eyes shift back to me and his low, educated-sounding voice slashes through the air—harsh, accusatory, “Why are you here?”

Glancing around, I realize that the three other men and two woman lounging on a nearby sectional have stopped their PlayStation game and are watching us.

Oh hell, oh shit ….

Cue stick in hand, he crosses swiftly to stand right in front of me and I swear I can feel my heart rise up and lodge in my throat. Horrific images of my various body parts being stashed in the beaten-up barrels that line the steel walls flit though my distraught brain.

Mr. Formidable towers over me, waiting for my answer as his suspicious pale eyes assess me carefully. They remind me of twin glaciers, cold and brutally sharp.

Here we go. Be direct with him.

“I’m here because you’ve threatened my little brother, Kjetil.”

Nothing. Dead silence followed by a bored, dismissive, “Get out.”

Screw him!

“I won’t.”

You could hear a pin drop in the warehouse, and nothing changes in his face, but his powerful hand whips out to grab hold of my upper arm, squeezing me in a punishing grip. I cry out in pain as he spins me around in one fluid motion to half-walk, half-drag me back the way I came.

No, no! I have to do something!

Closing in on the door, I scramble for the right words, “Wait! Please! I’m here to make you a deal, not give you a hard time. Please, just hear me out!”

His fingers dig in impossibly harder and I can’t help but utter another desperate cry before thankfully he releases me.

His lips part and the words float down to me, “You have ten seconds.”

I speak in a rush, making sure to stick to the facts. “I know he owes you a large gambling debt, so I’m here to find a way to pay you back before you hurt him. He’s only nineteen and didn’t understand what he was getting into betting on high stakes poker. Now, there must be some way to clear up this misunderstanding, please?”

His eyes change, showing signs of interest as he begins to really look at me, examining me meticulously, beginning with my face. Then he lowers his eyes to watch the rise and fall of my chest. I freeze as his thumb and forefinger reach out to capture a strand of my hair. He stares at the lock, rubbing it back and forth so many times that it nearly unhinges me.

Jesus, could this guy be a serial killer? Evil practically seeps out of his pores.

He’s still looking down as he states quietly, “There’s no misunderstanding. He owes me twenty thousand kroner and he has until the end of the weekend to pay up. He knows this and apparently, so do you. Time is money so if you don’t have it then show yourself out and don’t bother coming back; it won’t do any good.”

My mouth might as well be filled with hot ash as I croak out, “B-but … there must be another way … please. Anything. Just tell me.”

He continues to stare at me with unnerving intensity before turning to call out over his shoulder, “Johan! Bring me Angelica’s phone!” In seconds, one of the men who was lounging on the sofa jogs up the hallway with an iPhone in his hand—an iPhone in a hot pink, sparkly, jewel-encrusted case. The shady guy hands it over and goes back the way he came.

What in the world?

I stare down at his long, manicured fingers. He spins the device twice in his palm as he contemplates it.

“Do you know what this is?” He extends his forearm for me to examine his ink. My eyebrows snap together as I stare down at the detailed image tattooed onto his skin, covering the inside of his wrist all the way to his elbow. The quality is remarkable. The image is both timeless and terrifying.

“Of course. It’s the Norse trickster god, Loki.”

“That’s right. Any Norwegian worth a shit would know that.”

His borderline insult makes me clench my teeth; I’m suppressing the desire to ask him where this ridiculous nationality test is heading when he continues, “Loki is the symbol of our organization, representing the strength and purity of our dwindling Nordic race. I can see that your bloodline hasn’t been tainted, Ingvild, and I have to admit, that pleases me greatly.”

Pleases him? What a deranged freak!

As calmly as possible, I get to the point, “What does any of this have to do with me or my brother?”

He grins down at me, and even though his teeth are white and perfect, they have a pointed, predatory, wolf-like appearance. A shiver starts in my spine and works its way up to the tiny hairs at the base of my neck.

“It took nerve to come to me, Ingvild. In fact most wouldn’t dare come here alone. It will require even more bravery to carry out the job I need you to do for me.”

“Job? What is it?” Now we’re getting somewhere.

“One of my men has a girlfriend who cleans houses.”

He wants another maid? For what? Creepy, kinky thoughts flood my imagination of where this could be heading. Maybe these assholes are also pimps?

He continues, “One of the houses she cleans is far north of the city, deep in the forest. It belongs to a man who has something I desire. And Ingvild, believe me, I always get what I want.”

Oh no, oh God … is this really heading where I think it is—burglary and possible jail time? I’ve never stolen anything in my life and now I’m supposed to become an overnight cat burglar?

“Good. I see that I have your undivided attention. Now, give me your answer: yes or no.”

Practically tripping over my words I ask him, “Wait, will it clear my brother’s debt completely if I do it?”

His chin dips once and although he is about as trustworthy as a rabid jackal, I’m simply out of options.

I gulp hard and say quietly, “Tell me the details. I’ll do it.”

He says nothing, only fixes me with an avid stare as if now he wants far more than a random object in some stranger’s remote house.

He messes with the phone for a moment before turning the screen to face me.

“Memorize this address and the security code below it.”

I etch the information into my mind and then look up.

“She cleans his house once a week, on Wednesdays. The owner has a place in the city where he spends most of his time, only using this home on random weekends and holidays. The chances of him being there are slim; however, I would get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“What exactly do you want?”

He flips through the photos she has stored and turns the screen to me.

I stare at the golden mask of Loki that rests alone inside a tall, modern glass case. It’s stunning and if authentic, probably priceless.

“What if the case has a lock on it?”

“Break the glass or find a way to pick the lock. Your job is to bring me the mask. I don’t give a fuck how it’s done.”

“Wait, but won’t he come after the housekeeper, thinking it was her?”

“No.”

“No?”

Annoyance threads his voice as he answers, “She’s going to have an iron-clad alibi for tonight and she’s seen repair men come in and out with the same code, so she knows there are others who could be suspected of the theft.”

“Tonight? You want it done that fast?”

His calculating eyes narrow sharply. “You have other plans for this evening, girl?”

I hate him already. Intensely.

“No. I’ll get it for you and then we’ll be even. But I’ll need a driver and a snowmobile. There’s no way I’m going all the way in on foot. He could be there and chase me down.”

“Done. Come back here at one a.m., and the driver will be waiting for you.”

“Okay.”

I reach for the handle to let myself out, but he’s faster, caging me against the cold slab of steel with his powerful arms. His warm breath bathes my face and my heart begins a furious gallop in my chest as he says in a warning tone, “Two things, Ingvild. If you’re caught and mention anything about us, then Kjetil is done for—and I mean far worse than what he’s lined up to receive if you don’t deliver. Am I clear?”

I nod quickly.

“Good, because whatever you’ve heard of us only scratches the surface.”

“I’ve got it.”

“One last thing before I let you go, Ingvild.”

Hesitantly I ask, “Yes, what is it?”

“Don’t ever question me again.”

I freeze as he dips his head so that his face grazes the left side of mine. His aftershave smells expensive and I do my best to hold absolutely still. I’m dying to get out of here. Brushing my hair back with his nose, he whispers ever so quietly and menacingly into my ear, “I don’t like it.”

The threat is unmistakable, and in that moment I realize he is pure, undiluted evil and I’m in his debt, right alongside my naïve baby brother.

Chapter Two

Two Weeks Later

A Twist of Fate

“Hey, Mikkel, good to see you, man.”

I slap the back of his leather jacket as he steps into my foyer.

I glance over his shoulder, surprised not to see a hulking black SUV. In its place is a cycle that looks like it just rolled out of a custom bike competition after winning first place.

“You rode today?”

“Yup.”

“You really are crazy. How was it?”

He sets his helmet on a table nearby and answers wryly, “Windy and cold as fuck. The motorway was clear but it got a bit sketchy near your place. Should’ve known, but I was gambling that I’d make it and here I am. Gotta admit, I about pulled off to call you to come and get me. From the looks of it, we’re definitely gonna get some more snow tonight. I can feel it in the air. So tell me, you do anything yet with that café racer you picked up?”

“No, still reading up on it. You of all people know how difficult it is finding parts for a thirty-year-old American cycle. I hope to set some time aside to work on it this spring. Until then my production schedule is brutal. Up until a few weeks ago I rode the Harley almost daily.”

He nods his goateed chin twice before telling me, “If you’re pressed for time, I can always send a wrecker up here to pick up the cycle. We can bring it down to the shop and get it straight for you. I guarantee it will look better than the day it rolled off the assembly line.”

“That’s good to know. If my restoration skills fail on an epic level, which they very well could, then I’ll have to take you up on that offer. Until then, I’m in no rush. Come on, follow me, and we’ll take a look at what you really came here for today.”

I head down the stairs leading to my workshop. The shop is similar to the one I have in the city, and recently I’ve been spending more and more time in it. I feel closer to nature here, preferring to leave behind the sounds of backfiring trucks and blaring horns.

It’s been two long weeks since the break-in and there are still no leads from either the police or the private investigator I hired independently. The fingerprints the police lifted off both the case and the security pad don’t match any in their computer database. No matter, that distinctive face is branded into my memory. I meant what I told her that night: I’m going to find her. Working furiously on this piece for Mikkel has at least provided me a modicum of distraction from the black rage that burns inside me when I think of the theft of an item I would gladly sacrifice a limb for.

His rumbling voice pulls me back to the present. “Hell, Aksel, you are one talented motherfucker, my brother. I can’t believe the detail you’ve put into this piece.”

I cross my arms over my chest and watch as his large, scarred hands glide over the supple, jet-black Spanish leather. He stops to finger several embossed silver rivets before crouching low to examine the carved mahogany legs and attached leather cuffs, complete with sterling buckles. “She’s gonna love this bench and believe me, I’m going to love working her hard on it. The height and everything is perfect, just brilliant, my man. You signed it, right?”

“Yeah, my brand is on the base of the corner right leg. Glad you’re pleased, Mikkel. Always means more coming from a fellow craftsman.”

“Oh yeah, very fucking pleased and thank you for moving me to the top of your waitlist. I know you’re one of only three designers in Scandinavia who specialize in this type of furniture. Now I can surprise Elora for Christmas. She’s hinted at wanting a spanking bench for nearly a year, and your design is what I wanted in my home—none other. Tell me, where are most of your clients coming from these days?

I shrug. “All over. A lot of my business is word of mouth from previous clients, which is a bonus. Like you, I don’t advertise. This past year I’ve shipped pieces to Russia, Brazil, and loads of places in between.

“Nice! I’m glad there are enough people out there into the lifestyle who value your craftsmanship and are willing to pay the steep cost; after all, it’s high-level art in my humble opinion.”

“Appreciate it, Mikkel. Text me a time that works for you and I’ll schedule my driver to deliver it. We even gift-wrap—black with a red ribbon, of course.”

He laughs. “Good, ’cause I’m terrible with that shit.”

“Most men are, but we’ll handle it for you. Time for a coffee before you take off?”

“Hell yeah, warm me up before I ride back to Oslo. Got six bikes going at the moment. My head feels like a spinning plate on a stick. By the way, I brought cash for you. Just give me the figure and we’ll settle up.”

“That works. C’mon.”

I’m on the top step when he calls out, “Hope you know I’m gonna keep harassing you until you come down to my club. Got a sick band playing this Friday night. Why don’t you drop by for a drink? I’ll show you around and introduce you to some of the members.”

We make our way into the kitchen, and as I reach for the coffee, I glance up at him and say, “Much as I’d like to, Mikkel, you know it’s just not my thing. Tons of people, fights, drama, and all that goes along with it. Maybe I’ll text you when I’m working in the city and you can show me around the empty club on a lunch break? I’d like to see the space you rule over.”

He bursts out laughing. Shrugging out of his thick leather, he slides onto a counter stool and says, “How long have we known each other, Aksel? Huh, since we could barely kick a ball, right? Honor me and come out to my club. You won’t be disappointed.”

I fill his mug with steaming coffee and slide it over to him, along with a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes. “I’ll think on it.”

“Tell me, when is the last time you had a sub?”

I’m surprised by such a personal question. He’s never asked anything like that before. “Christ, man, should I have prepped for this visit or what?”

He holds up both hands. “Hey, I’m just concerned. You work more than I do and that shit’s gotta be balanced with playtime or you’ll burn yourself out. Know what I’m talking about.”

“Glad you found the right one; rare for that to happen with our particular tastes.”

“Fuck yeah, it is. So, why don’t you drop in on Friday and let me introduce you to some of the fine women who party on the nights we have killer music? Besides, I could use the distraction to keep my mind off the constant hurricane of shit you have to deal with when you’re the president of an MC.”

I stir my coffee slowly and ask, genuinely curious, “Oh yeah, what’s the latest drama?”

“For starters, a seriously messed up situation. A couple of weeks ago the little sister of one of our brothers was shot in the fucking shoulder with a damn hunting rifle ….”

He continues on but I only hear every third word. My temperature just spiked from normal to boiling. Impossible … could it be the same girl? It must be. Outside of hunting accidents, shootings in Norway are rare; all gun permits are strictly regulated by the government. Even the damn cops keep their firearms locked away in their vehicles, to be taken out only in extreme situations.

He continues, “Anyhow, grazed the top of her shoulder but still required several stitches and she’s not talking. In fact, she went to some med student friend of hers to close the wound. Can’t figure out why the hell she didn’t go straight to a hospital. Could’ve easily gotten infected. You know her older brother Bern, right?”

I nod woodenly.

“Yeah, well, he’s been a fucking wreck trying to figure out if she’s tangled up in drugs or worse.”

I try to sound cool and collected and only mildly interested, considering what’s going down, “What is this girl’s name?”

“Ingvild.”

I add, “So what time’s this band playing on Friday?”

He looks surprised. Setting down his mug, he says, “Nine. Why? You gonna show?”

“Yeah, I believe I will. You’re right, I need to get out and see some fresh faces.”

His grin is sly. “Ingvild’s single. Gorgeous girl. Not certain if she’s into the lifestyle or if she’s even interested in meeting anyone. She’s a university student who keeps her private life to herself, always has. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to get her to open up. She’s normally around on band nights.”

I clench my warm mug and think, Oh, she’d better be there. In my experience, fate can be either cruel or kind. Today she’s smiling down fucking radiantly upon me.

Chapter Three

Friday Night

9:00 p.m.

The Devil’s Wrath MC, Oslo

I ease up the hill that’s lined on either side with gleaming cycles. Not wanting to risk being late, I drove my truck. The roads near my house are starting to ice over with the storm that’s barreling in from the West and I had to make absolutely certain I could be here tonight.

It must be the same girl … I’ll lose my mind if it’s not.

The club rests at the very peak of the incline, an impressive, elevated two-story black A-frame chalet structure that looks a hell of a lot more exciting at night. Mikkel’s shown me photos of the place when he first bought it a few years back; he’s really improved the exterior and from the looks of the parking lot, it must be a wild scene already. I find a narrow spot to squeeze into and get out, stopping to look at a couple of custom choppers that are definitely examples of Mikkel’s sleek work.

For what seems like the thousandth time, I mentally prep for how I’m going to get her alone so I can interrogate her. There’s no way I’m leaving tonight without making her agree to give me back my property. She thought she could get away with it, and payback is walking up the steps to bite her right in her sexy little ass.

I pound twice and the tall door swings wide. Mikkel grins slyly and steps aside to let me in, joking, “Well I’ll be damned! You really did fuckin’ show.”

If I didn’t know him so well, his intimidating appearance alone would be enough to put me on high alert.

Eyeing him head to toe, I comment, “Nice leather.”

He has to yell to be heard over the blaring music, “You only wish you could wear my gear. Get your ass inside. I’m gonna get you good and liquored up before you bolt. Five drink minimum tonight, my man—house rules.”

“Your house, your rules. Got it.”

I follow close behind as we wind our way through the crowd of rowdy bikers. Despite the frigid temps outside, their women are showing lots of skin, and from the looks of it, everyone is well on their way to getting torn up. The dance floor is a tangle of sweaty bodies and the band is thundering out a deafening cover of a Black Sabbath song, stirring the crowd into a total frenzy.

Cool place … too damned bad I can’t kick back and relax tonight.

Mikkel shouts to the bartender whose back is to us, “Hey, Alreck! Look who I finally got here.”

He turns around and instantly I recognize the towering biker. His arms splay out on the granite bar as he yells across to me, “ ’Bout damn time, Aksel. Welcome! What are you drinkin’ tonight, brother?”

“Hey, man, good to see you. You have Macallan?”

“Shit yeah. You want it straight up?”

“Absolutely.”

“Got it.”

He reaches for the bottle and I get to work looking for the girl. She’s impossible to miss, even in a dense crowd. It takes several minutes to scan every face, and I come to the conclusion that’s she’s either in the bathroom or hasn’t arrived yet. No worries. I’m an exceedingly patient man, and tonight I have all the time in the world.

***

I slip my keys into my purse and knock hard on the door. It swings open and Mikkel bends low to give me a huge bear hug, saying, “Well, well, look who braved the cold to come out and play tonight?”

The music is blaring as I step into the warmth, calling out, “Hey Mikkel! Bern coaxed me into coming tonight. It wasn’t difficult because I love this band and besides, I was going a little stir crazy in my apartment. Can’t wait to catch up with the girls. Are they here yet?”

“Yeah, they showed about a half hour ago. How’s the shoulder?”

“Sore, but at least I got the stitches out. They were nearly unbearable with the constant itching.”

He laughs. “I bet. Alreck’s behind the bar tonight. Have him hook you up and you’ll find the girls in the back playing pool.”

“Cool, see you.”

“Have fun, Ingvild. I’ll let Bern know you’re here.”

I wind my way across the dance floor, deciding to say hi to my friends before getting a drink. The past couple weeks have been the worst of my life. I feel lower than a snake about what I did that night and the guilt is gnawing at me like a beast, but as far as I know that stupid mask has gotten Kjetil off the hook with the Norsemen and that was my ultimate goal. I definitely got the shock of my life when that crazed jerk shot me. His warning nearly made me turn back, but I decided I had to keep going. I would be destroyed if anything happened to Kjetil. My older brother has been interrogating me relentlessly over what was behind the shooting. Dodging him and then finally telling lie after lie to cover my tracks has been hell. The only person who has any idea of what really went down is Kjetil, and I made sure he knows that if I ever catch him gambling or more importantly associating with such disgusting people again, I will tell Bern everything. That was enough to scare him into rethinking his future. Still, something awful is nagging at me, waking me up several times each night. I’m petrified that this is merely the start of something horrendous. You can’t do something so unlawful and simply walk away unscathed.

I step up onto the elevated pool area and am greeted by a charming American accent. “You showed! Yeah! Lisetta should arrive soon.” Vail beams as she waves me over to where she and Elora are hanging out.

I give them each a quick hug, saying, “Hey, ladies, how’s it going?”

Elora says in a sarcastic voice, “Well, aside from the fact that this crafty American is taking me to the bloody cleaners tonight, it’s off to a fine start. Oooh, love that lace top, Ingvild. Very hot.”

The stunning English beauty is leaning a hip against the corner of table, pool stick in hand. I’m admiring her tall boots and fabulous suede skirt when she nods in the direction of the long bar. “Take a look at Mikkel’s gorgeous friend, Aksel. He finally coaxed him into coming here—shy one from what I’ve heard.”

I turn around and try to see through the throngs of people to check out the mystery hottie she’s chatting about as she continues, “They’ve been friends since childhood, and I have to say, he is the finest piece of man candy I’ve seen in a very long time … my Nordic warrior excluded, of course.”

Vail bursts out laughing at the exact moment my eyes lock with familiar, furious ones.

Noooo! Oh God, no! Not him!

Time grinds to a halt and my brain tells me to haul ass, to flee for my life, but my boots feel like they’re encased in concrete. Those penetrating eyes gleam darkly at me, knowingly, as if he’s already picked up on my plans and is determined to spoil them. Oh God! How could I be so stupid to think that I might be able to get away with it? I thought that since I’d never seen him before that night, just maybe I could live out the rest of my life flying under the radar. This moment has just shattered that hope like a fist through a mirror.

Vail leans in, unaware of my turmoil. “God, Ingvild, he’s checking you out like he wants to devour you. You’re one seriously lucky, girl. He’s absolutely stunning, and I’d bet money that any single woman in here would do just about anything to have him. Damn, look at those massive biceps … yum! Just wait, it won’t be long before he comes over to talk to you. He likely just needs some liquid courage, that’s all.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I murmur to myself.

“Huh? Hey, are you feeling all right? You’re not on meds for your shoulder, are you?”

“No. I-I’m fine. Hey, I’ll be right back. I need to find Bern.”

“Want me to get you a drink?”

Distracted, I reply, “Sure, a beer would be great.”

If anyone can protect me, it’s Bern. He’s a black belt kickboxer, but even if he wasn’t, the guy would have to have a death wish to start anything with me inside of the Devil’s Wrath clubhouse. If he’s really Mikkel’s close friend, then he must have his head on straight; Mikkel is a sound guy who would never associate with psychopaths. At least I hope that’s the case. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. From the looks of it, being caught up in a monstrous cyclone might be preferable to what this rage-filled guy has in store for me tonight.

Finally I spy my brother. He’s all the way across the dance floor—close to the entrance—and his back is turned. The club’s crimson patch arches over his leather-clad shoulders, the horned demon glaring out from the center of his back. I’m trying to get his attention, but he’s messing with his phone. Squeezing my way through the bodies to reach him is like fighting against a riptide.

“Ahh!”

I’m snagged around the waist and pulled tightly against a solid, athletic body. I cry out, and acting on instinct, I begin to throw elbows and writhe to break his anaconda-like grasp.

He spins me around to face him and with narrowed eyes, says in a deep, menacing voice, “Stop struggling or I’ll announce to everyone in this fucking club that you’re a thief who breaks into people’s homes.”

I jerk hard twice and quickly come to the conclusion that it’s useless to try to break his hold; he’s far too strong. It was sheer luck that I got away once before. Tonight he’s got my number.

His baritone voice is controlled as he continues, “Good. Now, you’re going to leave with me and take me straight to my mask.”

I hiss at him, “That’s impossible.”

I cringe as his fingers dig into my side. His hard eyes flare—their strange amber color makes them look as if they’re about to ignite, just like they did that night when I lay trapped on his cold stone floor.

“You need to rethink that statement. Immediately.”

No way. I’d take this man’s anger all day long rather than face those racist thugs again.

“Let her go!”

It’s Bern. He knows that I would never dance with a stranger because of how cautious I am, especially after what just happened. He must have seen Aksel’s hands on me.

He stares across at Bern but says nothing, still holding me tight. Looking back and forth, I can see the challenge in both pairs of incensed eyes.

Again, Bern warns him, “You have two seconds to release my sister or you’ll be leaving this party in an ambulance, asshole. Who the fuck invited you here, anyway?”

“Whoa, whoa, what the hell is going on?” Sensing trouble, Mikkel arrives to relieve the dangerous build-up of tension. I feel like my brain is about to rupture from the pounding in my head.

Suddenly I’m released, and I take two giant steps away from him. A wide circle has opened up around us. Fights inside the club are rare but when they do go down, everyone knows to back away and let things play out.

In a low, measured voice, the mysterious guy replies, “Nothing at all, Mikkel. Just asked the girl to dance, that’s all. Guess she’s not interested in me.”

Bern eyes him suspiciously, sensing he’s lying and trying to figure out his angle, while Mikkel tosses an arm over Aksel’s shoulder and leads him away. I sprint for the door and am jerked back by Bern. I wince from the pain in my shoulder, and turning back I warn my big brother, “Leave it be tonight, Bern. I’m not in the mood, okay?”

Exasperated, he shakes his head and reluctantly lets go. The second my fingers slip through his warm ones I’m gunning for the door.

Have to get out of here!

My phone is ringing nonstop—most likely it’s Vail and Elora, wondering why in the world I’m leaving without saying goodbye. Thank God I kept my parka and purse with me.

No time to waste!

I slip twice, nearly tumbling down the steep stairs as I race headlong for my battered Audi, desperate to escape him. Once inside, I slam down the locks and throw the car in reverse, nearly taking out two parked choppers in the process. Just then I see the door fly open and watch in terror as his massive figure comes racing after my car. Inside of five seconds, he’s down the stairs and running fast across the asphalt. He’s nearly reached the back bumper of my car when I shove it into first and stomp on the gas. He shouts something I can’t make out as I speed away down the hill.

Dread hits me like a punch to the gut. He was right. It really was only a matter of time before he found me. I shudder hard, recalling the tenacity in those irate eyes. He’ll never stop hunting me.

***

Sprinting for all I’m worth, I reach out and just graze her bumper with the tips of my fingers as she speeds off into the black night.

“Goddamn it!” I stomp my boot and curse a cloud of steam into the bitter cold.

The girl was petrified; that’s a given. She’s also hiding something. I suck in air, feeling the burn in my lungs as I glance over at my truck. I’m half tempted to tear off after her, but decide to go back inside and get additional information on the thief instead. She’s eluded me twice now and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give her a third chance.

Nope, your number’s called, sweetheart, and regardless of your innocent act with everyone else, we both know you have a major debt to pay. You’re done for. If I have to ruin your reputation in the process, so be it.

Mikkel shouts down to me from the porch, “Hey, what the fuck are you doing out here in the freezing cold? I turn around with shots in hand and you vanish on me! Get your crazy ass back inside. There’s no way you’re thinking of bailing this early, right?”

I holler up to him, “No, just wanted to see why the girl I was trying to dance with was running away from me like the club was on fire. Maybe I need to change up my cologne.”

He doesn’t need to know why I’m after her.

He’s propping the door open with one boot. Chuckling low, he tells me, “Can I call it or what? Knew you’d be attracted to Ingvild. She’s a peculiar one though. Who knows, maybe you scared her off with your Dom-ness.”

He laughs even harder as I shake my head.

“You’re an asshole, you know that, Mikkel?”

He couldn’t begin to understand the bizarre domino effect she started that night.

I shove my freezing hands deep into the front pockets of my jeans and trek back up the hill. “So,” I say casually, “you going to give up any intel on her? Think you know me well enough by now to realize I’m somewhere between a discriminating gentleman and a complete bastard.”

“Come on, I’ll give you the details over some alcohol. But first, tell me, what did you do to get Bern all fired up?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “I refused to take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m persistent. Big brother had a problem with it. In fact, think I owe him a drink, along with an apology. Don’t want to stir up trouble in your house.”

We’re winding our way back toward the bar when Mikkel warns, “Tip, Aksel: let it lie for now. Bern’s temper doesn’t rear up often, but when it does, trust me when I say it’s a hundred times worse than a volcanic eruption. I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, okay. Your call, Mikkel.”

Sliding onto a barstool, I look left and make eye contact with Bern, who’s eyeing me like he’s marking me for the tread patterns he’s about to make across my face. He’d really lose his shit if he had any inkling that his angelic looking sister’s nocturnal hobbies include grand theft. Her innocent act is just that—a total fucking façade. Come to think of it, maybe the hot-head brother is in on the scheme.

I’ve given it countless hours of thought and have come to the conclusion that she’s working with a team of some sort. There’s no way she could have planned and pulled off that heist on her own. Someone guided her to do it. There were dozens of valuables in my home that a typical thief or junkie would have gone after: Bang and Olufsen speakers, a Samsung flatscreen, and a half a dozen original abstracts that would fetch at least two hundred thousand kroner on the black market in Moscow. No, she was specifically sent to break into my place by someone who was after the mask. Maybe a crooked antiquities collector got wind of what I had. No matter, they’ve unknowingly unleashed a Pandora’s box of trouble, because I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.

Mikkel turns to me, his shot glass raised, “A toast, to brotherhood and bikes. Skål!”

Our glasses clink and I second his toast, “Skål!”

I have to yell to be heard over the band, which is pumping out the metal at deafening volume. “You’re right, Mikkel, I’m very interested in knowing more about Ingvild. Tell me, how can I find her?

“It’s good to see you finally interested in someone. I know you well, Aksel, you’re hyper-discriminating, so I’ll tell you what I know about how to locate her. But first, you need to tell me what you think of our club and more importantly, could you ever see yourself as a potential prospect and eventually a full patch member of the Devil’s Wrath?”

Fuck. With that bombshell, shit just got serious ….

Chapter Four

Monday, 7:00 p.m.

The Cliff Outdoor Sports Specialty Store, Oslo

She finishes arranging a display of black North Face parkas, unaware that I’m watching her. When she finally turns around, her jaw drops open and she scrambles backward, nearly falling on her ass, like a fox cornered by a hunter.

I simply stare at her.

The petrified girl lifts a shaky finger up to the ceiling and stammers, “Th-there are cameras all around. Touch me and the manager will contact the authorities.”

Quietly I tell her, “I’m here to talk, not touch, but I’m not beyond that if you refuse to do the first. And sweetheart, I know how to use my hands.”

Her eyes dilate with terror and her breath is coming out in shallow pants. “Leave me alone, please. I have nothing to tell you. You’re after the wrong girl.”

At her blatant lie, my hands clench into fists at my side. “Oh really?” I step closer and hiss, “Then show me your right shoulder, woman. If there’s no mark from my bullet then I’ll profusely apologize and you’ll never see me again.”

Hands on my hips, I wait expectantly, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s the one, the cat burglar who has caused me so much grief over the past several weeks. She casts her eyes straight down at the floor. She knows she’s not getting out of this. Without looking up, she asks softly, “You’re never going to stop, are you?”

“No. Never.”

Her cheeks flush, and still not meeting my eyes, she hesitantly begins to confess. “I did it for my brother. Not the one you saw at the club, my other one, the youngest, Kjetil. They were going to hurt him. I wish I could have made things right without stealing from you, I honestly do, but I’m a part-time student and well, you can imagine how small my wages are from working only twenty hours a week here. Please understand; there was no other way out. I did what I had to do and it can never be undone. You can come after me all you like, but it still won’t change things. Honestly, I’m very sorry.”

Her slim shoulders are visibly shaking beneath her red wool sweater. I know when someone is lying and this girl just laid out the absolute truth—a truth I never would have guessed. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I was in her position. Family is everything. I think over the facts for a long moment before saying, “Look at me, Ingvild.”

Her eyes lift to connect with mine. They are filled with sadness, and their arresting light-green color reminds me of spring leaves with sunlight dancing across them. I mentally shake off the pleasant image and continue, “Tell me where I can find what you took from me and I’ll leave you alone for good. You have my word.”

She furtively glances around and shakes her head, leaning in to whisper, “Listen, these are bad, horrible men. Trust me, from the look of your house, you’re a wealthy, smart guy. I’m sure that you have the money to replace that mask, but these men are killers. I know you’re angry but you need to let it go. No piece of art is worth a bloodbath.”

My vision blurs, clouded by unfiltered rage, and I have to mentally count backward from ten to get a grip before grinding out through my teeth, “It isn’t fucking ‘Art,’ girl. It is a piece of irreplaceable history that belongs to my family, and you took it upon yourself to steal it from right beneath my roof. Now your little ass is going to help me get it back. There’s no need to respond because I’m telling you a fact, not asking a question.”

She looks like she might pass out when suddenly a female voice crackles loudly from the walkie-talkie on her hip, slicing through the heady tension, “Ingvild, could you please assist on register three?”

She tries to skirt past me, saying quickly, “I have to work now.”

I step right and block her way. “When do you finish?”

“In one hour.”

“Fine. I’m parked right out front. Come to the black truck when you’re through, and don’t even think of playing games with me, because you won’t win.”

Nervously she says, “I’ll talk to you, but only if you promise not to hurt me again, and once I tell you what I know, you have to swear to leave me alone.”

She might as well have stabbed me in the gut with a rusty spike with that one. For a Dominant, the absolute worst thing in the world is to be accused of ‘hurting’ a woman for the sake of pain. No, pleasure and rewards follow punishment and all of it is craved intently by the submissive. To harm a woman, to severely injure her as I did this one, is not only unthinkable but not even on a genuine Dominant’s spectrum. That twisted shit is for the sadists. For the first time I’m feeling the crushing weight of regret from taking that shot. She most likely has nightmares about being hunted down. Fuuuuccckk!

She’s waiting apprehensively as I stare down at her, deep in thought. Sternly I say, “Meet me at the truck. You won’t be in danger.” With that I turn on my heel and stalk out of the busy store.

***

I tug my hat down over my ears and pull the zipper farther up on my parka as I reluctantly make my way toward the hulking black truck, thinking that it’s perfectly suited to its owner—equal parts intimidating and alluring. I’m already having second thoughts about leaving the safety of the store. I glance back at the luminous glow spilling out from the tall windows and desperately want to turn back. Edging closer, I frown at the blacked-out windows, feeling like I’m creeping toward the edge of a diving board—one that’s two stories high. I’m almost to the curb when the passenger door pops open.

God, this guy doesn’t miss anything, does he? Why couldn’t the owner of that mask have been someone who was only too happy to make a single call to their insurance agency to collect on their loss? No, instead it’s this stubborn man, and to add to the unbearable situation, he’s undeniably attractive. The girls were right to point him out at the clubhouse; in fact, any woman within eyeshot of him would stop and stare, trying to win his attention. Damn, damn! Just do your best to play it cool. This will be over soon ….

Climbing up into the lifted truck, I feel the warmth that’s pumping out from the heaters. I stare straight ahead, focusing on the rhythmic strains of Muse coming from the all-black speakers.

“Close the door, Ingvild.”

God, even his smooth voice has a nearly hypnotic effect on me. What is it about this guy? Now isn’t the time or place to have these sort of thoughts ….

Stiffly, my arm reaches out, closing me in with this stranger who certainly hates me. I want to scream at him that I come from a good background. My father is a hardworking single parent, I’ve lived a simple but honorable life, and what he has accused me of isn’t anything I would normally get tangled up in. Instead, I turn toward him, bracing my shoulders against the frame of the door. His delicious masculine scent fills my nostrils, reminding me of summertime and the sea. His eyes are questioning and patient as I begin, “Kjetil owed a large gambling debt to the Norsemen.”

I stop as his fingers wrap around the leather-covered steering wheel in a crushing grip. I can tell that he’s heard of them and is even more pissed off.

Best to get this over with, Ingvild ….

“One of their members’ girlfriends cleans your home. She took a photo of your mask because Loki is the symbol of their group. Their leader, I don’t know his name, is a very dangerous, and in my opinion, unstable man. Anyhow, I went to him to plead for my brother and was told that the only way I could wipe out his debt was to deliver your mask to them. I’m ashamed to say it, but that’s what I did to buy his safety. I haven’t spoken to them since and they swore to find me if I ever uttered a word. From what I know of you, you’re just as relentless as they are. What I did, stealing, I’ve never done in my life, and I figured you’re at least owed the truth, even if nothing can be done to get your property back.”

“That’s where you’re dead wrong.”

I shake my head. “You’d need an army to steal it back from them, trust me.”

His long right arm drapes over the seat behind me as he leans in close, saying confidently, “First, I would be taking back what is mine, not stealing it, and second, I have friends who are bikers, very intimidating ones. Now, we’re going for a little drive tonight, and you’ll be the one giving me directions.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, you’ll soon come to know me well enough to understand by the tone of my voice and the look in my eyes that I’m most definitely not joking. Start talking.”

“Head west out of the city.”

“Good girl.”

Wrong. Doomed girl with a large bull’s-eye placed on the center of her back.

***

We turn left off a desolate service road when she says, “Okay, start slowing down and you may want to kill the lights because it’s that old boatyard down there, the one off in the distance.”

I slow the truck down to a crawl, and just before flipping the headlights, I commit the rusted building, dock, and surroundings to memory.

“How’d you learn about this place?”

“I forced Kjetil to tell me. He’d been placing bets with them for nearly a year. He’d play in underground games in the city that they ran and then he’d come here to collect his winnings. He’s an excellent card player, always has been, but he’s young. I don’t know exactly what happened. Most likely he started coming up against older, more experienced players—either that or they played dirty to get money back. Anyhow, once his luck turned, his debt reached a glass ceiling and they cut off his borrowing power, giving him a deadline with an explicit warning attached. He was so scared when he finally confessed to me, he was shaking like a leaf and couldn’t eat for two days. I had to help him. I went for the only option—to make some kind of deal with them. Trust me, it’s not something I ever wanted to get involved with.”

Eyes still locked onto the moonlit boatyard, I ask her the obvious, “Why not go to your older brother for help? With the backing of the Devil’s Wrath you could have sorted it out one way or another. They’re the most respected and also the most feared MC club in all of Norway; you know that.”

“Bern? No way. He’s engaged to be married and besides, Mikkel just made him a partner in Heavy’s Customs. I could never jeopardize his bright future or the safety of the club before I at least tried on my own to help. Besides, we all suffered when Alreck was forced to do jail time, not to mention the blow of losing Ragnar in a shooting and Mikkel being stabbed by the leader of a rival MC. Thank God those monsters are all either dead, deported, or locked away now. The club doesn’t need any additional trouble.”

“I heard about the execution-style shooting of Ragnar, and of Mikkel’s incident with Dag, but Ingvild, both Mikkel and your brother would be livid if they knew what you’ve done. You should have gone to them. It’s a miracle that with your looks you weren’t gang-raped the second you stepped foot inside their lair.”

* * *

Gang-raped? He stares across at me and the small, shadowed enclosure suddenly feels positively miniscule. I struggle to breathe from the dreadful picture he’s painted. He’s right. I felt the threat, especially from their leader. Those eyes, those calculating, soulless eyes ….

I plead with him, “I’m begging you … let this go.”

Through the shadows I see the edge of his features soften just a bit.

“Relax. I told you already that you aren’t in danger, and I meant it. You have nothing to fear from me anymore, Ingvild. You told me exactly what I needed to know, and although I think that your choices were incredibly stupid, I can see why you made them. Family comes above all else, and you did what you felt was right at the time. You and your brother are going to be fine; I promise you that.”

“But, how can you say that? When these men find out that I talked, they’re going to drag me in for questioning, and likely more. Oh God ….” My mittens fly up to my mouth to stop the sobs from bursting out of my throat. I recall the Norseman’s nightmarish warning in my ear. Knowing how dangerous he is, I can’t prevent endless frightening scenarios from flashing through my mind as I sit frozen, practically paralyzed with terror beside a virtual stranger who’s insisting that I’m safe.

“Hey, look at me.”

I lower my arms as he says, “I’m a planner, Ingvild, so nothing is going to be done right away. The best thing you can do is to go about your daily routine as if everything is normal and under control, because it is. I’m going to give you my mobile number, and if you’re contacted by any members or for any reason feel threatened, then you call or text me. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, you have. But I still don’t understand why you’re in the least bit concerned about me. You should hate me for what I did to you, Aksel.”

His warm fingers reach out to touch the underside of my chin as he says slowly, “My reasons are my own, Ingvild. I’m always in control, in all things. I lead, you follow.”

His touch and directness spark something hot and needy within my core. This man has what you’ve always longed for, something whispers from deep within the recesses of my mind.

Chapter Five

Noon

Oslo

Heavy’s Custom Cycles

“Well, damn, Aksel, if this isn’t a surprise. What the hell brings you down here on a Wednesday afternoon?”

Shaking off the biting cold, I cross the concrete floor toward Mikkel, who’s already setting his socket wrench neatly inside the drawer of a red metal toolbox. He rises from his rolling stool and I toss out casually, “Thought I’d drop in to see if you’re living up to the hype. Seems like at least once a month I come across your name in a magazine or newspaper, you famous fucker. Besides, your place is only five blocks from my studio, remember?”

Glancing around, I see that everything inside the triple bay garage is gleaming; hundreds of tools hang in an orderly fashion on individual silver hooks suspended from cherry slat boards affixed to a central wall that runs the length of the vaulted space. Even the cycles under construction are so impeccably clean that you could count your damn eyelashes in the sheen of their varnish. Good for him. It’s obvious that he puts every drop of passion and pride into his craft, and in my opinion that’s the only clear path to success.

I’m still checking everything out when he says, “Yeah, I remember. Shame we always seem to have our heads buried in work. Hey, you eat yet?”

“Nope. You know a good place?”

“Yeah, there’s a small café around the corner. Nothing fancy, but they serve burgers that’ll blow your mind. Give me a minute to wash up. Mind if we have company?”

“Sure. Who?”

“Alreck. He’s out taking a chopper we’ve just finished up for a test run. I’ll text him to meet us there. Bern took the train over to Karlstad today to meet with a repeat client.”

I say nothing but think it’s a good thing Bern’s not around today. He’s most likely still angry over whatever he thinks went down with Ingvild and me at the club. The tough martial arts fucker would no doubt try to snap my neck if he knew I was on the other end of the hunting rifle that night. Yeah, if I have my way, he’s never going to find that shit out either. Not really any way to apologize for something of that magnitude. It’s not like you can casually toss out, ‘Hey man, let me buy you a lager, oh and by the way, that grizzly scar your sister is sporting, well that’s my handiwork.’

His voice rings through the warehouse, pulling me out of my dark thoughts, “Ready? Let’s move. I’m absolutely starving.” Mikkel’s already heading out the front door, keys in hand, when his phone buzzes. He glances down and says, “Alreck will meet us there in fifteen minutes.”

Good. Maybe that’ll give me enough time to ask Mikkel what I desperately need to know.

The casual spot is jam-packed with people grabbing a quick, filling lunch. We squeeze our way toward a lone back table that has just opened up. My stomach rumbles from the mouthwatering scent of sizzling meat. I watch how people eye Mikkel warily, as if he’s some modern-day Viking warlord who’s just stepped out of a dusty legend. As we pass through, several people move their chairs and lean away, as if the leather-clad biker might just lash out and injure them on a whim. He’s not harmless, but I know the guy well and he’s never hurt anyone who didn’t give him good cause. He’s likely the most patient man I’ve ever met.

As we sit down I shove the menu aside, asking him, “So, what’s good?”

He laughs, “Well, I’ve ordered the same thing since they opened five years ago; it’s called ‘The Boss.’ Outside of what I’ve had in America, it’s the best fuckin’ burger ever. You gotta like bacon and cheddar though.

“Yeah, that sounds amazing.”

A kid in his early twenties makes his way to our table, eyes down, flipping open his notepad. When he looks up, his eyes pop wide open and he breaks into a lopsided grin. “No take-away order today, Mikkel?”

“Nah, catching up with a buddy. We’re expecting one more. How about three Boss combos?”

“You got it. Drinks?”

Mikkel looks at me and I say, “Sprite.”

He adds, “Make it the same all around. Thanks, man.”

“You got it.”

The skinny kid rushes off to drop the ticket at the open-air grill and I cut to the chase, leaning across the small circular red-lacquer table.

“Mikkel, I need some information. I need your help.”

He goes still, dark eyes on high alert. “Talk.”

“What do you know about a supremacist group called ‘The Norsemen?’ ”

His jaw tenses and he grinds out, “Not a group you fuckin’ want on your radar, my friend. Think skinhead mafia. From what I understand, they run underground gambling rings in several locations throughout Norway—that is, when they’re not terrorizing or smashing in the faces of those who don’t agree with them. Led by an elitist asshole named Lars Bjerke. His parents come from old money and because of it, any trouble they get into seems to get conveniently swept under the rug, if you feel me. The father is a big heavy in the political scene. Now, tell me why you are asking.”

Shit. I can’t lie to a friend, but I can censor the details.

“They’ve recently stolen an artifact of tremendous value from me, something that has been in my family for generations. It was taken from my home in Sørkedalen.”

Shaking his head back and forth, he tells me gravely, “Then there are only two options: either you cut your losses and accept the insurance payout or you find a way to go after them. But I’m telling you right now, Aksel, with this group, a river of blood will be spilled if you try and fuck with them, because they are barbarity personified. You can only hope to outsmart them to get back what you lost without them finding out it was you, because they live and breathe to wreak havoc and put people in the ground or at the very least in the emergency room.”

Fucking terrific. Just what I didn’t need to hear this afternoon.

The waiter serves the three Sprites and Mikkel inquires, “What did they take that means so much to you?”

I blow out a breath and say, “A solid-gold Loki mask that my great-grandfather nearly died for while stealing it back from the Nazis who occupied northern Norway during WWII. The Wehrmacht would have flayed him alive if he’d been caught. I’ll have to tell you the entire story sometime, but my point is this, Mikkel: there is no price that can be placed on what has been in my family for centuries.”

“I remember seeing that mask in your living room … never knew the back story though.”

Before I can reply, the chair between us is flipped around and Alreck lowers himself into it. Straddling the chair with forearms draped over the top, he says confidently, “Ride’s perfect. Fine cycle; owners are gonna be floored by the tremendous horsepower. We’ll ship it out later today.”

He looks at me and grins. “Twice in one week? Nice to see you coming out of hibernation, Aksel.”

I realize that I’ll have to continue the private discussion with Mikkel some other time. At least he was able to give me some valuable information.

I take a drink of Sprite and come back with, “Yeah, well maybe I’m just kissing Mikkel’s ass to get a sweet deal on a new chopper.”

He swipes his huge hand through the air and laughs loudly. “Mikkel would practically give you one, seeing how far back you two go. Besides, you could always just tempt him with a trade for a couple of your kinky designs. Actually, Mikkel wouldn’t shut the fuck up about your recent creation. Got me thinking that I need to step up my game and have something custom made for Vail. My girl has a thing for art … and leather.”

“Drop by my studio anytime during the week. Mikkel will give you the address.”

We lean back, making room as three overflowing red baskets of burgers and fries are set down in front of us.

Mikkel rubs his palms together and says excitedly, “Now this is what I’m talking about. Warning, though: you may need a nap after this.”

After chomping on a fry, Alreck asks, “So what’s the latest with Ingvild?”

I pull back and set my burger down, asking warily, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, from what I heard from Vail and saw last Friday night, you had a mutual attraction thing going down, so I’m askin’, are you gonna follow up on it or just sit around like a pussy? She’s a nice girl. Hard to believe she’s single.”

“I work a lot.”

He bursts out laughing, repeating my words. “You ‘work a lot’? Brother, we all fucking work a lot. Shouldn’t stop you from going after what you want. Mikkel knows how to get in touch with her if you want to man up.”

Mikkel speaks up, “Leave it, Alreck. I’ve already told him that she works over at the Cliff. The next move is his to make.”

I thank Mikkel with a look. Truth is, the captivating girl has been on my mind nonstop since I had her in the cab of my truck the other night. The need to see her is becoming a deep ache. It’s a telling sign that I’ve been checking my phone for a missed call or text from her about a thousand times daily. I want her, but part of me thinks it’s best to just leave her alone. Shit, the chances are slim that she’s even a sub. And if she’s not, well, that’s a kill switch right there.

Mikkel’s low voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Insane burger, eh?”

“You were right; this is unreal. So, when’s your next event?”

Alreck slaps me hard on the back. Laughing, he says, “Told you he’d come around, Mikkel. Nobody throws down in this city like the Devil’s Wrath. It’s this Saturday night, my man. We’ll see you there.”

I’m still on the fence about joining an MC, but from what I’ve experienced, the members are good guys who enjoy a hard work/party balance in their lives and for as long as I can recall—probably for reasons of self-preservation—all I’ve done is the hard work part. Time to expand my boundaries. As if reading my next thought Mikkel says, “I’ll make certain Ingvild has a personal invite. Can’t physically make her show, but I can put in the request.”

“Appreciate it, brother.”

And when I do get her one on one, I’m determined to find out how exotic the brave girl’s tastes really are ….

Chapter Six

Friday Night

Horror is Relative

“Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead, seriously Kjetil? Wasn’t the first one awful enough, and now you’re telling me we’re going to waste our brain cells sitting through the gruesome follow-up?”

“Relax, Ingvild, you should thank me. This is soon to be a horror classic. I’ve heard from Lasse that the zombies get theirs in a sick way and the lead dude exacts his revenge from his friends being axed on their ski trip in part one. He even brings his dead girlfriend back to life somehow. Grab the drinks and hurry; I’m about to start it.”

“Ah, thanks for the spoilers there, Kjetil.”

“Yup. Anytime, oh and look, I even picked you up your favorite, two Melkesjokolade bars.”

“Aw, that was sweet of you.”

The pounding comes loud and fast, causing both our heads to swivel around toward the door. The force behind it is so powerful that it’s as if whoever is on the other side is determined to come through the thing.

My eyes are glued on the deadbolt as I ask warily, “Are you expecting someone tonight?”

“Nuh-uh, you?”

“No.”

I take the few steps over, hoping that it’s just someone banging on the wrong door. There are eight tiny apartments in this building, so it wouldn’t be uncommon. I place both palms flat on the wood and lean in to peek through the peephole. I would have preferred to see anyone and I mean anyone on the planet in place of the face staring directly at me.

The frightened words slip from my lips before I can stop them, “It’s him. The leader of the Norsemen.”

Kjetil sounds horrified, saying, “No … why?”

“I’m not sure, but we’re about to find out.”

I unbolt the door with shaking fingers and open it three inches. His cold stare is all-consuming. Thankfully he’s alone. but that does nothing to make him seem less deadly.

Quietly he says, “Evening, Ingvild.”

I stay silent, not wanting to give myself away.

His hands are buried deep inside the pockets of a charcoal-gray down parka and I can’t help but worry about whatever weapon he might have stashed inside his coat.

“You’re not being very polite to me, are you?” His tone changes, becoming borderline arrogant as he continues, “I came by for a follow-up chat. Now, if you’re not coming out, then I’m coming in.”

Inside of our home? Hell no! There isn’t enough bleach in all of Norway to sanitize that away.

“Please, just give me two minutes. I need my coat.”

His eyes are hard as he tells me, “Two minutes. No more. Meet me downstairs in the parking lot—silver BMW.”

Closed inside of a car with an unpredictable monster? Oh God …. I’d rather take my chances with ten zombies from Kjetil’s stupid film!

I nod and close the door. I turn and refuse to meet my brother’s eyes.

He pleads, “What is it, Ingvild? Tell me. I thought everything was straight? What’s changed?”

I stare at the wood floor and say quickly, “It was, I mean it is straight. He just wants to talk. I’ll be back soon. Watch your movie and try not to worry.”

“Not worry? Fuck, Ingvild. Maybe I should call Bern. I don’t care about him being pissed off at me anymore; your safety is more important. What if he never stops?”

I look up, staring straight into my brother’s soft blue eyes and say in a flat voice, “Oh, he will. Tonight is the end of it, and that’s a promise. I have to go now; he’s waiting.”

I rush to the closet and slip on my warmest coat. Pulling up the fur-trimmed hood, I hurry toward the door.

“Ingvild, listen, I’ll open the window. If you scream or yell, I’ll hear you and call the police, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The cold air feels ten times worse because I know what lurks in the darkness. I clutch my mobile in my hand, wondering if I should send a quick text to Aksel. I recall his words: if you’re contacted by any members or for any reason feel threatened, then you contact me.

No, I’ve got this. I still don’t fully trust Aksel. The gorgeous man’s offer might just be a tactic to help him get his stupid mask back from these thugs.

Before I can knock on the tinted window, it opens a crack.

“Get in.”

Warning bells go off and an inner voice screams, Do not get inside of a vehicle with this psychopath!

I lean down to the low-slung car and say, “I’m fine where I am, thanks. Now, what was it you wanted from me?”

He fails at hiding his anger as he begins, “I realized after you left that I never told you who I am. I came over tonight to change that.”

I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not interrogating me about Aksel. He could have easily had me followed the other night.

“I know enough of who you are.”

That’s it, be brave, don’t show fear to this man who thrives on the emotion.

He moves fast, like a big cat, shutting off the car and sliding out to come around the front, stopping only when our boots touch. I’d be fooling myself if I didn’t admit to being petrified.

Towering over me, he practically snarls, “I like your confidence, girl. Tell me, what do you know about me?”

Choosing my words with extreme caution, I begin, “I assume you’re the leader of the Norsemen. That and you know a lot about gambling and winning at pool. To me, that’s enough.”

It takes all the self-control I can muster to stop from slapping his hand away as he reaches out to cup my cheek.

“See, that’s where we have our differences, because I don’t think that’s enough. You should be honored that I want you to know more about me. Believe me, Ingvild, it’s not common in my world.”

What an egomaniac asshole!

I only want to get his paws off me and end this pointless conversation so I say, uninterested, “All right then, tell me your name and then we can part ways. I have plans with my brother tonight.”

“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, you know that?”

I stare silently up at him, hoping he can feel the daggers that are shooting from my eyes as he continues, “But lucky for you, boring girls don’t interest me.”

I can’t hold my tongue anymore and I lash out, “I don’t want to interest you. In fact, I don’t want you to think of me at all!”

He smiles, but it’s a creepy kind of fake smile, more of a sneer, one that doesn’t reach his chilling eyes.

“I think and more importantly do as I please and you may call me Lars. I’ll be back for you tomorrow night at nine, Ingvild. Wear a dress.”

Hell would have to freeze over twice before I’d go out on a date with this monster.

I open my mouth to protest but his long index finger presses against my lips, causing me to flinch under his hot touch.

His low voice slices through the air, “I can be fun once you get to know me. You’ll see, Ingvild. You take care now. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you when I’m not around to look out for you. Unfortunately, there are a lot of undesirables who have made their way into our country—lowlifes who can’t be trusted.”

With that he turns, rounds the front of his sleek ride, and opens the door to lower himself in. Starting the growling engine, he drives away, leaving me standing alone in the dark, feeling sick to my stomach and in need of a scalding shower to wash away his lingering touch.

I should have known that you can never just walk away from evil. No, it’s relentless, taking what it wants. Only when it’s sucked you dry will it walk away from you.

My brother’s voice makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Everything okay?”

I turn around to see him jogging across the parking lot toward me, clad only in a hoodie, jeans, and socks.

“Yeah, he’s gone now. Let’s go back inside.”

“Ingvild, what did he want?” The fear in his voice is undeniable.

“Nothing. He just wanted to make certain I didn’t talk. That’s all.”

He sighs in relief and says, “Cool, I was starting to think that he wanted more from you or something.”

I’ll never tell him that I might as well have signed a contract in blood with a demon. Lars wants everything. I could see it in his eyes.

I rub my brother’s arm, saying, “C’mon, let’s get back to the gore-fest. At least he didn’t show in the middle of the action; that would’ve sucked.”

“Right on.”

God, I need a distraction tonight. Anything will do.

Chapter Seven

Saturday Night

9:30 p.m.

The Devil’s Wrath Clubhouse

I spot her the moment I step inside the door. She’s sitting at the far end of the bar with three stunning women. In my opinion, none compares to her.

Mikkel asks, “You’re making me a happy man by dropping by our club again. You catch much traffic on the way down from Sørkedalen?”

“Nah, I was working in the city all day. Thought I’d swing by and check out the scene. You guys have yet to disappoint.”

“Band tonight’s called Switchback. They drove all the way down from Tromsø.”

There are five of them on the elevated stage and I’m impressed at how fiercely they’re pumping out black metal. Their faces are painted pitch black with white accents around their mouths, making them look like walking corpses. Their long wild hair and spiked leather only adds to the impression that they’ve just arrived on a chariot straight from the depths of hell.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I lean to the side and say, “A bit hardcore for my taste, but they’ve definitely got talent.”

“Yeah, agreed. We try to mix it up with who we book, to keep all the members happy. By the way, you see who showed?”

“I’ve seen her.”

“Should’ve known.”

“Known what?”

“You never did miss anything, Aksel. Like that about you. Grab yourself a drink and I’ll find you in a while. Oh, and you might want to talk to Ingvild soon.”

“Why’s that?”

“ ’Cause Bern will be here tonight and you know that you’re up there on his shit-list.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around once I hit him with my irresistible charm.”

Mikkel barks out a laugh and rolls his eyes, “Yeah, we’ll see about that, my man. I’ll be at the door until ’round midnight, when Gunnar takes over. I’ll find you when I’m free and we’ll party. Let me know if you need anything.”

I clap him on the shoulder, “Thanks.”

“You got it, brother.”

The place isn’t as crowded as last weekend. Yet. With the way the parking lot was filling up around me, I’m sure it will be a zoo before long. I cut through the dance floor and step up to bar area. She hasn’t seen me yet; she’s still happily chatting away with a redhead. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve seen her and the gnawing ache has been building in me, causing me to put in extra-long hours with the weights and work just to relieve the tension. I take the final few steps toward her when the redhead spots me, her eyes widening as she whispers something into Ingvild’s ear. Time slows down as she hesitantly turns on her swivel stool. I’m close enough to reach out and touch her as her eyes lift to meet mine, a thousand unfathomable emotions swirling within them.

Something’s wrong.

She’s scared, but she knows I’d never harm her; besides, this clubhouse is the safest place on the planet for her to be and that’s undoubtedly why she’s here tonight. Alarm bells go off. I’m thinking that Lars must have contacted her—that, or possibly worse.

I need to get her somewhere alone to find out what the fuck is going on.

Softly I say, “Hey.”

She gives me a faint smile and replies, “Hi, Aksel.”

“You need a drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Suddenly the place feels constricting, like the air is being sucked out by a thousand vacuum cleaners.

I hold her gaze and ask quietly, “You eat already?”

Her brows draw together. “I’m not hungry.”

I keep my voice level as I say, “That’s not what I asked you, Ingvild.”

Suddenly, I see it. Right there, plain as day. The flare in her eyes combined with the slight pink flush of her cheeks—an innate reaction to my dominant tone.

My body reacts, going instantly hard as I struggle to stay composed. Could she really be what I think she is? Hell yeah, I’d bet my entire business on it. Unbelievable. What are the fucking odds?

Her lips are parted, as if she’s unsure what to say next, when a tiny brunette with waist-length dark hair strolls over, hand extended as she begins to speak with a distinct American accent, “Hey there, I’m Vail, Alreck’s girl. You must be Aksel. He told me you were coming again tonight. You want me to get his attention so we can get you a drink?”

I don’t want to seem rude by taking off so soon, especially since they extended the invite again, but truthfully I want nothing more than to be alone with Ingvild. My eyes drift over to hers then back to the spirited American as I shake her hand and reply politely, “Good to meet you, Vail. Sure, Alreck knows what I drink.”

She flashes a bright smile and rushes off behind the bar, where Alreck is already underwater trying to fill the flood of orders. Thankfully the redhead to Ingvild’s left is deep in conversation with a blonde I recognize as Mikkel’s cousin Lisetta.

Good. Hopefully no more distractions.

I place my hand on the high back of her seat and lean in close, patiently waiting for an answer to my earlier question. Seconds tick by when she finally tells me, “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“Was that so hard?”

She glances around and leans in to hiss, “What do you want from me?”

To show you things you’ve never imagined, to protect you, to own you, to see a collar of my own design resting perfectly around your swan-like neck.

“Nothing, aside from making sure you’re all right.”

That steely confidence of hers comes back tenfold as she whispers in annoyance, “Well, I’m just fine.”

I whisper right back, “No, you’re not. You’re lying.”

Her stunned look is quickly replaced by a mask of arrogance. She warns icily, “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“No.”

She can hardly keep her voice level, “Why the hell not?”

Calmly I tell her, “Because, Ingvild, I don’t want to receive a call from Mikkel that he or Bern found your remains in a fucking ditch. That’s why I won’t leave you alone. Give me some credit. I’m older than you and I have a hell of a lot more street smarts than you will ever have. I can read your reactions like a damn book and they’re telling me you’re freaked the fuck out. Now, you and I both know that aside from Kjetil—who really can’t help you—I’m the only person on earth who knows the deal, so you’d better start talking about what has you riled up, sweetheart.”

Vail returns, drinks in hand. “Here’s your liquor. Alreck says he’ll come over when things slow down. He’s getting slammed back there.”

Glancing over, I see that not only has the pace picked up but he’s got a three-person deep wait at the bar with zero help. Mikkel is too busy at the door, making certain that all the new arrivals are either members or invited guests.

Shit. I want to know what’s going on in her head more than anything, but it’s gonna have to wait.

“I’ll go help him out.”

Vail seems surprised, telling me, “Wow, that’s cool of you.”

I nod and lean down so only Ingvild can hear me, “Stay put.”

Taking a long sip of the liquor, I set the glass down before shrugging out of my heavy leather and draping it over the back of Ingvild’s stool. I have to move past several people to get to the side entrance of the bar, calling out loudly to Alreck, “Talk to me. What do you need first?”

Relief washes over his bearded face as he swipes at a stray lock that has escaped his ponytail. “Ice!” His finger jabs toward a nearby door. “It’s through here, then down one flight.”

“I’m on it.”

I’m about to push through the swinging door when I catch sight of Mikkel; his dark eyes are pinned on me. He’s smiling, and his goatee dips once in gratitude.

***

I throw the dart and miss the board completely. Normally I’m a decent shot. Not tonight, apparently.

Lisetta asks suspiciously, “So?”

“So what?” I try to seem casual as three pairs of feminine eyes drill into me.

Lisetta digs further, “So … are you interested? I mean he’s ridiculously fine, like out-of-this-stratosphere gorgeous, Ingvild. You’ve been quiet all night and we’re all wondering if he even has a chance. Please don’t tell me that you’re playing hard to get … are you? It’s so not fair to keep us all in the dark.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I’m just not interested in dating anyone at the moment.”

Elora downs her shot, tosses her long hair over her shoulder and steps up, dart in hand. Before she takes her turn, she huffs out, “We’ll, he’s obviously very interested. In fact, when his perfect body isn’t hauling kegs and buckets of ice, his eyes have been glued, and I do mean superglued to every inch of you, darling. So spare us the innocent act and ’fess up. You’ve been seeing him outside the club, haven’t you?”

The little English minx! Mikkel’s wife is more inquisitive than a public prosecutor.

I sigh loudly. “Fine, once. But nothing happened.”

“Yet,” Lisetta snickers playfully.

“All right, I’ll admit that I’m attracted to him—I mean who wouldn’t be?—but that doesn’t give the three of you passes to badger me all night. Look, if anything does happen, you’ll be the first to know, all right?”

Vail chimes in, “Ooh! Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

God, what would my three friends think of me if they knew I was a lowdown common thief? We’ve grown close over the past six months, ever since Bern agreed to let me start coming to events at the club. Before then I just occasionally hung with friends from my university classes. I would be mortified if these ladies that I’ve grown to admire ever found out my dirty secret. I need to regroup.

I place my beer on a side table and say, “I’ll be back for my turn. Just heading to the ladies’ room.”

Elora calls out, “I’m coming along as well.”

Terrific, I really need just two damn minutes alone.

We’ve only taken a few steps when she points through the wild crowd at the front door. “Oh look, there’s Bern.”

Wonderful! I’ve been dodging him all week and I’m positive he’s going to corner me tonight to ask about what really happened when Aksel grabbed me on the dance floor last weekend.

“I see him,” I grumble.

We enter the small bathroom enclosure and she touches my bare forearm, asking softly, “Hey, is someone or something bothering you, Ingvild? We’ve all noticed that you’ve dropped weight and are completely stressed out. You’re not into drugs to keep up with the pace of your schedule, are you?”

I pull back in shock. “Jesus, Elora ….” My defenses go right up.

She raises both palms. “Hey, I’m on your side, darling, always. I only want to put the offer out there that if you need help, in any way, I’m here. All of us are. I haven’t known you long but I truly already love you like a sister.”

I can feel the hot sting of tears start to burn my eyes, threatening to spill out of the corners. Hold it together …. One too many people already know the truth and additional ears would only put my friends in danger from those maniacs. Not going to happen. No matter how tempting.

“You’re right, I’m just under a lot of stress with classes and paying the bills lately, that’s all. I’m sure things will straighten out after the holidays; actually, they’re putting me on additional hours at the Cliff for the Christmas rush. I’ll be all right.”

“Ingvild, tell me how much you need and I’ll loan you the money.”

“No. Please, I have it covered.” Suddenly her prying questions and the confines of the tiny bathroom are stifling.

“Elora, I’m going to speak to Bern now. I’m sorry about the darts game. Maybe you can find someone to step in for me.”

I rush past her and out the door before she can respond. I hate lying to a friend, but there is no way I’m laying it all out to the wife of the president of this MC. They would see it as their duty to get involved and the result would be carnage.

***

The argument with her brother is brief. He’s still shouting at her when she throws up her arms and turns away to storm out the front door.

I wipe my hands on the bar towel and yell over the thundering drums, “Hey Alreck, you straight now?”

“Yeah, man, do what you need to. Catch you later!”

I fly around the side of the bar and grab my jacket. My eyes are locked on Mikkel, who has both hands on Bern’s shoulders and is talking against his ear, likely trying to calm him down. Mikkel has always been good at reasoning; for him getting angry is a last resort. Gunnar is now manning the door and Mikkel’s far too distracted to notice my exit. I’ll text him later.

“Night,” Gunnar says as I slip past him out the door.

“Take it easy.” I scan the parking lot for her, hoping that I was fast enough to catch her before she takes off. Relief rolls through me as I see her white A4 still parked but running. Excellent.

I jog over and knock twice on her window. She refuses to look at me, only shakes her head as her slender fingers continue to grip the steering wheel like it’s a life ring.

I know she can hear me through the glass so I tell her calmly, “I’ve got all night, princess. You need to think things through, go right ahead. I’ll wait right here—freezing my ass off, I might add—and when you’re done, we’re going out to have a meal together.” She ignores me for several seconds before opening the door to step out.

She zips her red coat closed and plunges her hands into the pockets before asking furiously, “What the hell is it with you?”

I jerk back, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you dare play games with me, Aksel. You know what I mean. You act like you care, like you’re some hero or dark knight strolling right into the middle of a damn firestorm to help me. Well, news flash, jackass, I don’t want your help! In fact, all I do want is for you to get out of my life … permanently. I’ve got enough chaos coming at me from every angle and I sure as hell don’t need it from you, so get lost!”

Oh, she’ll pay for that insult later. Disrespect is never allowed, although I understand where her anger is coming from—she is being pulled in too many directions. Right now I need to diffuse her.

“You’re going to get into my truck, right now.”

“Oh rea—”

The second word never has a chance to leave her sassy lips before I scoop her up into my arms. She clings to me instinctively as the furious protests start up, “You, you beast! Let me go!”

I ignore her completely and walk straight over to my truck with my fiery little package held tight against my chest. Once we’re at the passenger side, I lower her legs but keep my left arm wrapped around her as I fish my keys out of my jeans.

“Get away from me! I’m not going anywhere with you tonight!”

She’s struggling wildly but can’t get out of my hold.

“Ingvild, you’re being irrational.”

Her expression freezes as her tiny nostrils flare. “Irrational? You must be insane. Do you not see that you’re the one who is forcing me to go with you?”

I release her but keep my body within a couple of centimeters of hers as I say, annoyed, “Fine. You want to go? Leave, walk away right now, but before you do, Ingvild, you should stop to think. I’m your best shot at staying in one piece and you know it. Whether or not you want to admit it, you need my help because there’s nowhere else to turn. My guess? One or more members of the Norseman have already contacted you, maybe even threatened you; that’s why you’re so fucking skittish tonight.”

Her eyes confirm my suspicions as I continue to speak to her low and fast, “Now the way I see it, you have nothing to lose by coming with me to discuss how to keep both you and Kjetil away from them. Be logical.”

“And if I don’t come with you?”

I tell her the cold truth, “Then you’re on your own. That is, unless you cough up the entire story to the Devil’s Wrath. They definitely can provide protection for both of you.”

She stares up at the night sky, weighing her options before reaching over for the door handle. “Fine.”

I place my hand on top of hers to stop her. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, Aksel, I will go with you willingly, but only because I can’t take option two.”

“That works. Ingvild, unless you want to tell your brother and Mikkel that you’re coming with me, it might be a good idea for us to drop your car off at your place on the way. Bern will lose his shit if he sees your vehicle out here; he’ll think something really bad happened. That you’ve disappeared or something.”

She immediately goes rigid, shaking her head rapidly back and forth.

What the hell?

I place my hands gently on her shoulders, close to her neck, and lean down to whisper, “What happened? What are you so afraid of? Talk to me, baby.”

She’s trembling as the word slips from her lips, “H-him.”

“Lars? Did he harass you?”

I’ll rip his fucking head of if he laid a hand on her.

“Oh God, Aksel, I don’t want to get into the details right now, but the short version is that I can’t go home and I can’t tell anyone. He’s so evil—there’s no way to put it into words—it’s just that electric feeling you get through your body when you’re faced with fight or flight. Do you know what I mean? The primal instinct that screams at you from somewhere inside your brain to simply run because you’re in mortal danger.”

“I know the one,” I tell her.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I feel every time I’m around him. It’s horrific.”

She stares up at the sky, steam from our breath puffing between us in the cold air.

“Ingvild, look at me. Where’s Kjetil now?”

Her eyes are wild and wide as she focuses them on mine. “He’s helping our father on the farm.”

“Good, that’s good. Can you drive?”

“I think so, why?”

“Because you’re going to turn around, get into your car, and follow me out to my house in Sørkedalen. I can keep you safe there. It’s only a temporary solution, but it’ll buy me time to think.”

“Aksel, why are you putting yourself at risk to help me? I don’t understand, and after what I did to you, I don’t deserve it.”

I cup her cold cheeks and tell her calmly, “That night never should have happened. You’re innocent, and because you loved someone, you were forced to go against every fiber of your being and it nearly got you killed … by me. That isn’t acceptable in my world. Call it fate or fucking luck or whatever you want to, but we’re riding this out together. I’m sure as hell not going to sit back knowing that you and your brother are on Lars’ radar. Mikkel would never forgive me. Hell, I’d never forgive myself, knowing that I could have prevented something terrible this time around. You understand?”

Her fingers reach up to press against the backs of mine. “Thank you, Aksel. All I have standing between me and that monster is you, and for that I’m incredibly grateful.”

“Listen closely, because I’m only gonna say it one time …. As long as my blood is still pumping through my veins he won’t touch you, and Ingvild, know that I rarely ever make promises and I sure as hell only make ones that I can keep. Now, go to your car and follow right behind me. You’ve been there before.”

Chapter Eight

12:04 a.m.

Sørkedalen

An uneasy feeling rolls through me as we enter the exact same foyer where we fought just weeks ago. I thought things were messed up then; I hadn’t a clue.

His rich voice is a welcome distraction. “I’ll take your coat. Follow me, the kitchen’s back this way.”

I slip out of my parka and hand it to him, grateful that his home is toasty and warm. The heat in our old apartment is so sporadic that sometimes it feels like the tropics and sometimes the arctic. I follow him down the hall and notice how different everything looks with the lights on.

“You’re lucky to live here,” I say. “It’s really fantastic. Whoever built it did a terrific job with all of the woodwork. It’s so beautiful.”

He chuckles. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

We enter the kitchen and I reach for his arm. “Hey, what? Are you telling me that you built this?”

He plants both palms on the sleek modern counter and answers playfully, “I guess if you thought it sucked I’d keep my trap shut, but yeah, I built the place with my dad about five years back. He’s a contractor and this piece of land has been in our family for a very long time.”

“You’re a curious one, Aksel. There are so many hidden layers to you.”

His stare turns hot and dark as he says in a measured voice, “Oh, you know very little about me, Ingvild, but you will learn, in time.”

Heat blasts through me and suddenly it feels sweltering in the kitchen. As the flush creeps up my neck, I struggle to conceal how his voice and seductive words affect me, but it’s impossible. He knows. He seems to know everything about my needs and wants, and that’s scaring the hell out of me for a very different reason.

Thankfully, he changes the subject. “I know it’s a bit late to eat. Is there anything you don’t care for or are you adventurous?”

“Adventurous. Surprise me.”

“I like that, princess.”

“Princess?” I scoff. “Hardly.”

He crosses his arms against his chest and grins, and I can’t help but notice how he’s far more relaxed in his own environment. “It’s perfect. In fact, I think that’s what I’ll call you from now on—my gorgeous, stubborn little princess.”

I give him a heated stare. “I’m glad that one of us thinks you’re funny.”

“That’s because I am, and you really should be respectful. That sexy mouth of yours is just begging for trouble.”

“Oh, really?”

He unfolds his arms and walks right up to me. His imposing height and the rise and fall of his toned chest are intimidating in itself, but it’s the sheer force of his presence that makes my mind spin.

In a faint whisper that’s laced with an unmistakable warning, he says, “Yes, little princess, really.”

I blurt out, “Are you threatening me?”

Stunned, he says, “No. Never. I’m not built like that.”

Silence hangs thick between us before he breaks the tension with an unexpected question. “How old are you, Ingvild?”

“Twenty-three, why?”

He’s not giving anything away. He shrugs. “Just curious.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-five. Does that bother you?”

“No. I would have guessed you were younger, though.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. So, how does pasta and mixed greens sound?”

“Tasty. Actually, the last time I ate was this morning—a quick bagel before class.” I’m a guest in his home this time around. I should at least be polite.

“We’ll fix that.”

He uses a remote to click on what sounds like Brazilian jazz; it’s smooth and sensual. Next he opens a bottle of Spanish red, pours two generous servings into delicate glasses, hands one to me, and announces, “Skål” as our rims lightly touch.

“Skål.” I smile and try to recall the last time a man poured me a drink, much less cooked for me. Oh, I know … never.

Reaching into the refrigerator, he pulls out several fresh ingredients and I do my best not to make my blatant approval of his everything too obvious. God, if he looks that fine in worn jeans, how would his sculpted ass look in underwear or better yet … bare?

He glances over with a knowing, all-male grin. “You can entertain me while I cook.”

I try to hide a blush and take a deep pull of the wine before saying, “I’ll do my best. What can I help with?”

I watch as he washes and then begins chopping mushrooms. He’s focused on the task at hand when he says, “I’d like you to begin by telling me exactly—and I mean every detail—why the Norsemen contacted you. I thought you were clear of them.”

“Believe me, Aksel, so did I. Last night Kjetil and I were just chilling. We were about to watch a horror flick when Lars came to our door … alone.”

His grip on the knife tightens as he asks softly, “What exactly did he want?”

“Me.”

The long knife abruptly halts, pressing down hard into the butcher block as his back muscles beneath the Henley shirt go rigid.

Oh my God. He’s angry like that first night and I’m alone way out here in the woods!

All too calmly, he says, “He came to make sure that you hadn’t opened your mouth, right?”

“No. That’s what I thought as well, but he must have known I was too scared to ever go to the cops or Bern. What he wanted is for me to get to know him better. He insisted on picking me up tonight and when I tried to refuse, he became angry. I knew there was no way I was going out with him—that it could just be a lure to get me alone and hurt me or something—so I blew him off and hid out at the club tonight instead. I thought it was the safest place, considering the alternative. Now you know.”

He sets the knife aside and places both palms flat on the countertop. I’m about to ask him if everything is all right when his face turns and his eyes clash with mine. “Ingvild, you know how serious this is, don’t you? He’s never going to stop until he gets what he wants from you.”

“But you have no way of knowing that. You can’t speculate about those things, Aksel.”

“I’m not speculating. I know.”

I set my glass down and throw up my hands, asking in an exasperated tone, “Fine, how? Tell me how you could ever know what’s inside of his head.”

“Because, Ingvild, any man who’s willing to do what he did—force an inexperienced, innocent woman to break into a stranger’s home to steal something that he simply ‘wanted’—is not only insane but also very, very dangerous. The fact that he’s now interested in you is just about as bad as it gets. Clearly this man is living in his own, sick alternate reality.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t disagree with you on that point, but I think if I keep dodging him, he’ll eventually become bored and move on. I owe him nothing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh really? What is it you know that I don’t?”

“I know that this is personal, and that’s far worse than owing him money, like your brother did. He wants you and from the intel I’ve gotten on him, he’s a complete lunatic. He’s extremely dangerous.” After a brief pause, he asks, “Do you know what ‘curbing’ is, Ingvild?”

Shakily I take a long sip of my wine, hoping it will calm the tide of fear that is swelling inside me. “No, tell me.”

“It’s a term that’s well known in Neo-Nazi groups. A victim is forced to lie face down with their mouth open wide against a concrete street curb. The person is then held down as the back of his head is stomped on. If he’s lucky, it will only break his jaw and shatter his teeth. If he’s not, it snaps the neck.”

“What?” I shriek. “That … that’s monstrous! That must be an urban legend. No one could do that!”

“Again, wrong, Ingvild. I met Mikkel and Alreck for lunch recently and before I walked back to work, Mikkel took me aside to warn me, sharing one last detail: Gunnar once saw Lars do exactly that to an African immigrant. He was passing by a side alley on his chopper one evening at dusk. He called the cops immediately and tried to help, but he was alone, and at least ten members of the Norsemen were present. It disturbed the fuck out of him. He said it was the sickest thing he’s ever seen; all the group had against the poor guy was his skin color. So don’t think for a second that he’ll just forget that you stood him up tonight, because he won’t. To a narcissist like that, it’s a direct insult. I can guarantee he’s already planning on coming after you. Just know that he’ll have to go through me to reach you.”

My lips are quivering as I force out the words, “I’m not sure what I’d do if you hadn’t offered me your help.”

“I owe you that and more, Ingvild.” His jaw tightens as he walks over to me. “Show me. I want you to pull the neckline of your top away. I need to see it.”

“No. I won’t, and you don’t owe me anything. Besides, I bit you that night, remember? You probably have a scar and had to get a tetanus shot. So just drop it.”

He practically hisses at me, “Oh really, just drop it? Hide it all you like, but don’t think for one second that fucking scar on your beautiful body isn’t something that torments me daily!” His hands are trembling as he roars, “That shot was nearly a bullet hole in the back of your skull!”

I’m so shocked that I can hardly force the words from my lips. “You were going to kill me?”

“Came close. Not proud of it, but you were trespassing and stole my shit, and that got me monumentally pissed off. So yeah.”

I hold my head in my hands and confess, “I’ve replayed it countless times, and I now realize you were right: I should’ve gone to Bern. Then maybe, just maybe, the force of the club could’ve swayed them to back down from harming Kjetil. Maybe Mikkel would have paid the debt and Bern and I could have slowly repaid him. Now you’ve gotten involved and I’m terrified someone will die.”

“You need to get over that fear.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because violence is a given—there’s no way around that dirty fact—but if we use our heads and don’t let emotions guide our actions, then maybe, just maybe we’ll come out on top and nobody will die. You have to outsmart someone like Lars; otherwise your name is stamped on a pine box, if you know what I mean.”

“How can you say such terrible things?”

“Because I’m a realist. We live in a violent world that’s filled to the fucking hilt with evil. Deny it all you want as you sip your caramel latte with double whipped cream and window-shop on the streets of Oslo, but it’s there, and when it sucks you in, for whatever reason, you’d better be prepared or it will eat you alive. That is a cold hard fact, princess.”

“Who taught you to think this way?”

He picks the knife back up and returns to preparing dinner as he says respectfully, “My great-grandfather.”

***

She leans forward, setting her empty plate down on the coffee table before relaxing against the leather sofa to ask curiously, “Nazis?”

“Yes, you paid attention to your history lessons about the occupation period during the 1940s, right? How the Nazis invaded Norway as a means to control the routes of the North Sea and hide their submarines and warships in our fjords and ports.”

“Of course. We all learned this.”

“Well, my great-grandfather was what you would call a rebel. After King Haakon refused to step down, the Wehrmacht got a tip that he was hiding out in a small village. They lit it up like a bonfire, but my great-grandfather and his cousins helped the king escape deep into the forest. They watched in horror as their ancestral land and homes were reduced to piles of smoldering ashes. To make it worse, they had a hidden underground vault that of course the fucking Nazis found. Guess what was in it?”

“Historical artifacts?”

“Yeah, you nailed it—irreplaceable pieces of our history. Swords, jewelry, armor, and one other thing.”

“The Loki mask.”

“Yup. And that is why, as the king and his men fled their homeland for exile in England that very night, my great-grandfather, being the badass that he was, waited until the camp was quiet, then he and five men snuck in and assassinated the eight Nazis assigned to guard the valuables. They used only their hunting knives. My great-grandfather was nearly captured and two of his first cousins were killed, but he shoved both the mask and a handful of Viking-era artifacts into his coat before escaping.

Her eyes are open wide, and the light from the fire makes them sparkle. “Where did he go?”

“Far up into the mountains, to a Rorbu that was incredibly remote. He stayed there, in isolation with two others, until the war was over, but that time changed him, made him a hard man. He told me what he’d had to go through to stay alive, how he was separated from my great-grandmother, never knowing if she made it.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, but she was raped repeatedly by the German soldiers, like many Norwegian women at that time.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a horrible time for our country, and that is why it makes my blood boil to think that there is an entitled asshole running around with the same warped ideals. On top of that, he’s smug because he has my great-grandfather’s fucking Loki mask!” The last part comes out as a deafening bellow and I watch as she shrinks back against the cushions.

I quickly get it together and tell her, “I’m sorry, Ingvild. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s clear that you’ve been though hell, but you needed to know why I am so adamant to get vengeance against these criminals. I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

“It’s clear now, Aksel.”

“Good. Then let’s get off this depressing topic. We’ve wasted enough of this evening discussing the past. Did you get enough to eat? Would you like more?”

“No thanks, it was delicious.”

I stand up and hold out my hand. “Good. All right. Come with me; it’s getting late.”

She stares at my palm for a moment before slipping her fingers into mine. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you where you’ll sleep tonight. I have some work to finish up.”

She takes a step closer and says in just above a whisper, “I’m not tired. Can I watch you work, Aksel?”

That was definitely unexpected.

“Follow me.”

I lead her down the staircase, thinking to myself that it’s best to lay everything out on the table. If she’s going to be a part of my life, there shouldn’t be any secrets between us.

“Watch your step. The last one is steel and can be slick.”

I’m just about to flip on the lights when she says, “You know, I’m not even sure what you do for a living.”

Oh, you’ll figure it out in a few seconds.

I flick the switch and reply, “It’s easier to show you my craft rather than explain it, Ingvild.”

She steps forward and stops, raptly taking it all in. Her eyes track across the room, finally stopping on a hulking St. Andrew’s Cross that’s nearly ready to ship across the globe to a repeat client in Auckland.

She fumbles for the right words. “This is your work? You design fetish furniture?”

“You hit the nail on the head, princess.”

It’s as if she didn’t hear me, because she’s already wandering through the space, stopping briefly to run her delicate fingers along the tall mahogany post of a hand-carved bondage bed before examining the custom leather cuffs that are bolted onto each beam of flawless wood.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“And you likely never will again.”

She spins around to face me, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Why? Are your designs that exclusive?”

I shrug casually. “I wouldn’t go that far, but they are distinctive.”

“And there are that many people in the world who are into this type of kink? Enough who will commission you to build a custom piece that will meet their wicked needs and fantasies?”

“Oh, you’d be shocked.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “How do they find you?”

“My work is well known in certain circles.”

Suddenly she seems shy as she moves hesitantly toward the nearly ceiling-high black X-shaped cross. I watch her carefully as she glides her palm across the edges of the glossy wood then lower down the supple padded leather that wraps the center of the beams. Most crosses are only wooden, but I like to design mine to make sure the sub is nice and comfortable as she withstands her relentless lessons.

“So the woman stands here, facing it?”

Ah, so my sexy little princess is keen on learning about the lifestyle ….

She doesn’t hear me walk up behind her because she’s still too busy fondling the cuffs and rings. I whisper against her shimmering hair, “The submissive would normally face the structure, but would occasionally face her ‘Sir,’ if that is what he wished for her to do. It would all depend on what he wanted from their session together.”

She stills completely and without turning, asks nervously, “Have you ever used the furniture you design?”

“Turn around and look at me, Ingvild.”

Immediately she pivots and stares up into my face. A fine sheen of sweat has broken out on her forehead. Such a brave, curious girl ….

“I have, yes. But not here.” Her brows draw together in question as I continue, “I have a leather supplier in Madrid. I travel there every quarter to meet with him. I’m a member of an exclusive club there called Sangre. I’ve used all these pieces there with different subs, so I’m definitely familiar with their functionality. Does that answer your question, my inquisitive little one?”

She’s nervous but also excited. I can tell by the way her lips are parted and her chest is rapidly rising and falling. “You’re obviously very experienced in this lifestyle, in this art that you create, right?”

“I’m a Dominant, if that’s what you’re getting at, yes.”

“How did you know that’s what you are? I mean, was it that obvious to you?”

I reach out and thread my fingers through her hair, clasping the back of her neck. I marvel at the silken feel as I pull her close. I lean down and against her petal-soft lips, I whisper, “I never didn’t know, Ingvild. It’s who I am.”

Practically panting, she pleads, “I want you to bind me to it. I want to see what it feels like.” I simply stare at her as she adds, “Please.”

I cock my head to one side and firmly tell her, “No.”

“B-but … why not?”

I let go of her neck and take the last step forward into her space. I bump up against her, causing her to back up against the daunting piece. I raise my arms up to grip the top sections of the X, essentially caging her between myself and the cross as I say darkly, “I said ‘no’ to you because it’s not a toy, and we’ve yet to have an in-depth conversation about your sexual tastes, princess.”

She gasps as I lean in ever so slowly and swipe my tongue over her little chin.

Fuck, she tastes even better than in my dreams.

“S-stop teasing me, Aksel. You know I’m attracted to you.”

“Oh, you haven’t even skimmed the surface of being teased, but in time you will. When I choose to tease—and I will, long and slow—you’ll not only love it, but beg me for more. I’m firm about what I said: not tonight. It’s late and you’ve experienced enough. Come on, I’ll tuck you in. You’re safe under my roof.”

I back away and lower my right arm to thread my fingers through hers. We cross back through the room and climb the stairs in silence. We’re halfway across the shadowed foyer when she asks softly, “Do you think I’m one? A sub, I mean. That’s why you called me ‘little one,’ isn’t it?”

Without turning around I keep walking and reply, “No. I don’t think you are. I know it with every fiber of my being.”

She halts just before I’m about to head upstairs to the bedroom. I turn around. She looks stunned, confused as to how I can possibly know something about her that she isn’t already aware of herself.

“How, Aksel? Tell me how you think you know this about me.”

She wants proof. Time to get a taste of what you’ve been craving all along, Ingvild.

I put my hands on my hips, and in a low voice I command her, “Kneel.”

Her shoulders snap back and I add darkly, “You have five seconds. There is no right or wrong choice here.”

Mentally I begin the countdown: five … four … three ….

Her face turns crimson as she lowers herself down to the slate floor.

My body reacts as if it’s been struck by a live jumper cable. My dick immediately goes hard as granite. I’m looking down upon this beautiful creature, poised motionless, kneeling respectfully at my feet.

“Look at me, sub.”

With golden strands of hair covering half her face, she shyly meets my eyes as I tell her respectfully, “That’s how I know.”

Confused, she responds, “Because I knelt down for you? Anyone could have done that.”

I shake my head slowly. “It’s not what you did. It’s why you did it. You would rather feel the hot sting of embarrassment than displease me. That act alone makes you a submissive; your innate longing to please. And for that, I find you unbelievably fascinating.

Chapter Nine

8:37 a.m.

Sunday Morning

I’m pulled from my evocative dream by the unmistakable sensation of feather-light kisses trailing across my left shoulder.

It’s him.

I can’t hide the smile that forms on my lips as he continues his sensual trail straight down my bare arm. I’m salivating to know what those lips would feel like claiming mine.

Last night, after dropping that bomb about his trade and lifestyle, he did exactly as he said he would, offering me his bed as he slept downstairs. I promptly crashed into the depths of dreamland, the red wine and adrenaline spikes having taken their toll.

My eyes flutter open to watch him. He looks so handsome in the silvery light of morning …. His dark facial hair is the perfect complement to his striking eyes. He flips my hand over and presses a lingering kiss into the center of my palm before sweetly closing my hand, as if silently telling me to hold onto that one.

“Mmm, that feels so nice. Good morning, Aksel.”

“Good morning, my princess. Did you rest well?”

I give a cat-like stretch and playfully roll over onto my stomach, the crisp duvet enveloping me. “I did. Your bed is ridiculously cozy.”

“Good, you’ll need the energy for where we’re headed today.”

He’s piqued my curiosity. “What did you have in mind?”

“A Sunday adventure. Are you game?”

“I am but the thought of lounging around here is incredibly tempting.” I prop myself up on my elbows, brush my hair back, and look around. The wall of floor-to-ceiling windows is the only barrier between the pale gray loft style room and a lush green forest that seems to go on forever. There’s a dusting of fresh snow on the hearty towering trees, giving the scene a magical aura.

He surprises me by crawling into the wide platform bed with me. He’s on all fours and I sigh at the way his jeans and heather-blue sweater stretch across his arresting frame.

His lips are inches from mine as he whispers, “I’m so glad that you approve of my bedroom.” He stares hard and adds, “Wait, move your hair away from your shoulder.”

Hesitantly I do as he asks, revealing the pink scar.

He frowns before saying tenderly, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry for that. I hope you can forgive me one day.”

“No, please, it was an ….”

Before I can utter another word, his lips close in, brushing against mine just once. My body takes over, inching forward instinctively, wanting more contact.

His gaze is hot as he murmurs enticingly, “Tell me what you need, Ingvild. I want to give it all to you and I want to hear you say it.”

“Please don’t, Aksel. It’s not fair.”

His warm palm slides along my cheek, holding me close as he whispers, “There’s no need to be shy, not around me, not here. Tell me what you want.”

I rise up onto my knees, telling him, “This.” I lean in to press my lips against his, stunned by their fullness. His hand slides back, capturing my hair in his fist as a primal growl rises up in his throat. My lips part, eager to taste him.

“Oh!” I cry out, finding myself suddenly pinned beneath him.

One second we are eye to eye, and the next, his free hand has slipped behind me, pressing firmly to take me down. He impatiently tosses the duvet out of the way and adjusts his weight until I’m completely trapped beneath him. Those penetrating eyes never waver as he says slowly, “Actually, what I had in mind was something like this ….”

His mouth lowers to capture mine as that smooth tongue of his wastes no time demanding entrance.

Oh God, his taste … like honey, only sweeter, with a deceptively sinful edge. Intoxicating. It’s a damn good thing I’m laid out on my back because the way he’s passionately exploring my lips and mouth would absolutely drop me to my knees.

My mind is whirling in bliss as his body moves confidently along mine. I can’t help but marvel at the searing heat his strong frame is throwing off in delicious waves.

He slides his hand down between my legs, pushing them wider to accommodate him so there’s only a thin barrier of clothing between us.

Those masterful fingers take their time exploring, gliding against my inner thigh, slowly inching their way up until I’m practically holding my breath, so desperate for him to relieve the deep throbbing he’s solely responsible for. The countless nights of longing for his touch have finally come down to this moment. His hot palm stills against my skin as a lone thumb begins stroking my panties, wickedly teasing my eager clit to the point where I want to scream out in need.

He lowers his face and whispers into my left ear, “I’ve dreamt of you like this so many times, Ingvild. Having my way with you in my bed, taming you, exploring you. I was rock hard that very night you broke in here and were trapped beneath me on the floor. Did you know that?”

I shake my head back and forth at his wicked confession and tell him shakily, “No, but I admit the attraction was and is very mutual.”

“Very nice. I like that, princess. Do you know what else I’d like right now?”

“Tell me, Aksel.”

“No, the words I’m looking for from you are, “Please, Sir, tell me.” And before you say them, know that from this moment forward, I am your instructor in all things sensual, your Dominant, your Sir. As my submissive, you will address me this way, but only in private. And Ingvild, if you have the slightest objection or hesitation to what I’ve just told you then I want you to speak up right now. And if you do, I will never, and I mean never lay a hand on you again. You have my word as a gentleman.

I swallow hard, apprehensive but incredibly tempted by his offer. Can I do this? Take the leap off that cliff into the foreign realm of BDSM, knowing that he’s strong enough to catch me and guide me in his exotic world? His thumb has stopped its agonizing circuit but is still pressing firmly into that heightened bundle of nerves, eliciting a firestorm of longing. If only I can agree to his enticing terms ….

***

Every muscle in my body is taut as I await her answer. Her physical cues are telling me that she’s craving this more than anything, but her fear of the unknown might just be strong enough to make her deny her primal needs.

Her little pink tongue swipes nervously against her bottom lip, an involuntary response as the plea falls tentatively from her rosy lips, “Please, Sir, tell me … show me everything. I’m eager to learn from you.”

The last part makes my eyes slide shut. I need to get a fucking grip. Does she have any clue what her pure willingness does to the body and mind of an alpha? It makes me triple-check my control, because right now all I want to do is use my teeth to rip her lace panties clean off and lap at her sexy pussy like a crazed beast.

I open my eyes and move in to kiss her again, long and slow this time. I’m pouring my emotions into it, letting her feel how pleased I am by what she’s just told me. My knees bump her legs wider apart and my fingers explore, finding the edge of her panties, slipping down into the front and then moving lower. I groan into her mouth at the first touch of her bare, delicate pussy. The only words pounding like a deafening drum in my over-stimulated brain are, Mine, mine. So. Fucking. Mine!

She’s making sexy little sounds beneath me as I swirl my index finger, spreading her wetness all around, taking my time as I push that lone finger slowly up into her tight heat.

Time to give her a little lick of pain to heighten the pleasure.

I rise up onto my knees. Her legs are spayed open outside both of mine. My left hand glides up under her camisole to tweak her right nipple. I hold it captive between my firm fingers.

“Ah … ow!”

Her eyes fly open. Their expression is both confused and questioning.

“Do you trust me?” I ask her in an assertive tone.

She practically pants out her answer, so ramped up from the endorphins that are coursing fiercely through her. “I–I trust you. Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

I stare down at her dark pink nipple, so alert from my ruthless fingers, and think to myself, These will be stunning covered in my saliva, wearing my clamps.

I drop my head and swipe my tongue once across the little pink bud that’s neatly pinned, marveling at the distinctive taste of her skin. Behave, princess, and you’ll get what you’re silently begging for.

A deep, needy moan fills the room as a second finger enters her. She’s remarkably soft and tight and I begin to tease her at a leisurely pace, probing and retreating countless times until she’s dripping wet and writhing hard, so very eager for release.

Not. Just. Yet.

My control is beginning to unravel. The need to claim her is fighting its way to the surface. My hands release her as I work first my belt buckle then the zipper of my jeans as she watches. Her bright eyes are riveted to my hands as I lower the fabric down to first my ass then my hips. My boxer briefs are the last barrier as I grate out the question, “Are you on birth control?”

She nods twice, saying, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’m clean. And if you’re concerned about my play at the club, know that I always use a condom there. How about you?”

Her cheeks flush hotly as she answers, “I’ve only had one partner. We dated for three years and were better off friends. I was tested after; I’m clean as well.”

“Excellent. Do you have any problem with being bound this first time?”

Her eyes flare in excitement. “No, not at all.”

“Good, because I get off on having my sub restrained as I fuck her into oblivion.”

Her jaw drops open in shock as I grin and edge back off of the bed. Standing, I ditch the clothes. My jeans hit the floor first, followed by my sweater then underwear. I cross my arms and stare at her, admiring my treasure. I ask slyly, “You approve?”

Her eyes are drinking in my cock as she tells me in an aroused but unsteady voice, “I didn’t know they came in that size.”

I smile. “Oh, don’t you worry, little one, I’ll make absolutely certain that you’re prepared to take me, and from what I’ve felt of your gorgeous body already, you’re well on your way. Now stand up, remove your clothes, and follow me downstairs. Your avid curiosity is about to be rewarded as I strap you down to my latest design.”

I hold back a laugh at how swiftly she scrambles to obey. After searching so long, have I finally found an angel willing to both teach and explore? This is undoubtedly the best fucking morning of my entire life.

***

Which will it be: the leather bench, the hulking cross, or possibly the sinful bed? From the confident gleam in his watchful eyes I can tell the choice was made long before we ever left his bedroom. I’m trying hard and failing not to shift nervously from foot to foot. At least he keeps the heat cranked high in his house—not that it matters. Everything about him causes my body to burn. So now I wait patiently for my new Sir to give me the first of many instructions in this room that is designed for carnal pleasures.

Even several feet away his alluring voice wraps around me like a lush cloak as he says slowly, “Tell me, pet, is there anything you can think of … anything at all that would frighten you? A limit that you wouldn’t cross with our play?”

How unexpected …. Suddenly I feel calmer, knowing there are boundaries involved.

“I don’t want you to ever hurt me to the point that I bleed.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

My heart skips a beat as he begins to circle me like a prowling lion. The nakedness I feel has nothing to do with my lack of clothing.

“May I ask something before I answer?”

“You may, if you address me properly first, sub.”

Damn!

“Please, Sir, may I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I once read an article on the internet about a man in Sweden who tortured women, some to the point that they were crippled. The police arrested him, but he claimed it was mutual play, that he was a sadist and was only giving the girls what they begged for. Tell me you’re not like that … are you?”

Stepping forward, he reaches out to rest his hands on my shoulders, telling me softly, “Ingvild, the stigma attached to this lifestyle inevitably attracts a handful of sick individuals who will twist it to their needs—as evil and immoral as they are. I can assure you that no reputable BDSM club would ever admit someone like that on the grounds that he obviously has zero concern for the subs he interacted with. He simply lures them in like a serial killer would in order to inflict torture. That is not what this is about; in fact, it is the polar opposite, little one. The D/s relationship is primarily about trust and reading each other’s needs and desires. The ultimate goal is to achieve the deepest pleasure possible while broadening our experiences. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Now I do.”

“Good. Unless you have any additional questions, I want you to tell me a candy that you absolutely hate.”

“What?”

In the blink of an eye, his right hand lifts off my shoulder and drops down to slap my left breast with punishing precision.

“Ow, ow! Okay! I’m sorry, Sir! It’s licorice! I hate licorice!”

Unfazed he says, “See? That wasn’t so difficult, was it, sub?”

“No, Sir.”

“It will take a lot of training with you because of your curious, headstrong nature, but I’ll get you there. I thrive on challenges. The reason I asked you for that word is because it will serve as your safeword, and that specific word needs to be deeply imprinted on your memory. Have you heard the term before?”

“I know what a safeword is.”

“Do you know when to use it?”

“When I want you to stop, right?”

“There’s more to it than that. If I do my job as an experienced Dom properly, I’ll be reading you like a blind person reads Braille. You’ll never utter that word in my presence. However, if anything that happens between us seriously hurts you or frightens you to your breaking point, say the word clearly and it will all stop. But I’ll tell you now, Ingvild, I take my job as a Dominant as seriously as I do my profession, and if you even think about playing games with me I will cease everything and cut you loose so fast that you will be left wondering what the fuck happened. Are we clear?”

Holy shit, he’s dead serious. I wouldn’t dream of playing games with a man like him, but the way he laid that out confirms it as law … his law.

“Absolutely, Sir. I understand completely.”

“Good girl. Now that we’ve gone through the details, is there anything else I should know about you?”

I push the words out as my face explodes in blazing heat. “I’ve never had anal sex, but I’ve thought about it a lot; I’d be interested with the right partner.”

His strong hands slip around my waist to float down the lower part of my bare back as he says in an approving voice, “It makes me happy when you share things and are open and honest with me, princess.”

I lean into his chest, craving the feel of his smooth skin like sunshine after an endless winter. Looking up into his inscrutable face, I whisper, “I want to please you, Aksel … I mean, Sir.”

“And you will, little one, so long as you’re open and honest with me and always try, even when you’re unsure. Right now I want you on your knees; then you’re going to open your lips and work me with that sexy little mouth. Your goal is to make me moan before we begin our play.”

A delicious first task. He’ll moan, all right.

As gracefully as possible I drop down and gulp as I come face to face with his gorgeous, pulsing cock. Oh, he’s in for it. I love a challenge and more than anything, I want to please him and hear him lose control from my touch.

Using my left hand, I steady myself against his hip and lean in to wrap my fingers around his thick sex. The first swipe of my tongue causes his breath to hitch and I waste no time swirling it around the wide crown, marveling at his unique, all-male taste. I feel his leg muscles tighten beneath my palm and I focus all my energy on bringing him pleasure. His hands are still planted on his hips, and aside from his harsh breathing, he’s motionless. I slacken my jaw and welcome him deeper into my eager mouth. My lips close around him as he moves in, not stopping until I feel his head nudge against the back of my throat. My body reacts at the intimate contact, mouth filling with saliva, nipples going rock hard, and the softness between my legs dampening. I can’t remember the last time I was this aroused by oral. With him it’s different—something I’ve only fantasized about—the experience an exquisite combination of mental and physical pleasure, each heightening the other.

He’s panting as the command drifts down to me: “Use your hands and mouth to work me, sub.”

My fingers wrap around the base and I get to work with my lips and tongue—kissing, licking, and sucking in a relentless circuit, silently hoping that he’s pleased with what I’m doing. I can feel him throbbing against my tongue, impossibly hard and rigid. My mouth keeps up the pace, working in unison with my palms, when suddenly I hear it—a long, low, all-male groan that under other circumstances might be mistaken for pain. A sense of accomplishment rushes through me right before he steps back, immediately breaking the intimate contact. I pitch forward, holding myself up off the glossy wooden floor with my left hand.

“Stand.”

Did I do something wrong?

I get up, confused by his gruff tone. The look in his eyes is shocking, and it takes all my courage not to stagger back out of fear. He eyes are wild and his face set into a ferocious mask.

We stare across at each other in silence and I watch him take several deep pulls of air in through his nose before he says, “Well done, sub. You nearly shattered my control … and in record time as well.” He moves back a step, eyes never leaving mine, and points a finger toward the far corner, commanding, “You have ten seconds to get your sweet ass positioned on that spanking horse. Don’t worry about the restraints; I will buckle you into them.”

My mind blanks for several seconds before I turn, nearly sprinting across the length of the candlelit, windowless room toward the wooden and leather device. It looks something like a carpenter’s sawhorse, except that this one is exceptional and strangely comfortable looking. It’s not until I get close that I understand what the four padded shelf-like extensions are for. Hesitantly I hoist myself up so that my torso is exactly parallel with the device. Am I doing this right? Not a word of encouragement or advice comes from Sir, and that’s fine, I can manage what he asked. When my left forearm is placed down against the final arm bracket, I wait, failing miserably at gaining control of my erratic breathing. Just positioning myself on this wicked design of his is enough to make me ache desperately, and the thought of him actually fucking me on it is nearly enough to send me over the edge.

His palm presses into my lower spine and I jump under his hot touch.

“Easy, princess. Relax … it will be far better for you.”

Oh God, his words …. How can mere words make my head spin? What’s going on in that calculating mind of his?

His hand lifts and I feel his fingers graze my right ankle as he wraps it in the butter-soft leather cuff. His voice is deep and controlled as he tell me, “These will all serve to keep you positioned when things turn rough, princess.”

Rough …. Oh God, yes!

“Have you been taken hard by a lover before now, Ingvild? Have you ever had someone fuck you with such brutality that it destroyed whatever piece of furniture he was taking you on?”

I twist my neck back and strain to meet his eyes. “No, never, Sir.”

His full lips curve up at the corners. “Good. Because I enjoy being your first in all ways. Trust me, I build my furniture to withstand exceptional force, so when we shatter something—and Ingvild, we will soon—it’ll have to be in a hotel suite. You’re not going anywhere on this bench this morning, princess.”

As the last possessive word leaves his lips, he tugs hard on the final buckle that’s tethering my left wrist to the lowered bracket.

Suddenly he steps back and I feel undeniably exposed, stark naked, legs spread and ready for play. I can’t fight the urge to wiggle a bit, testing whether or not I truly am restrained. Oh yeah, no denying it. I have exactly a few millimeters of space at best.

“Fuck, gonna be late with this delivery.”

I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes to stare back at him. “Excuse me?”

“Seeing your sleek body tied down just now, and knowing how you’re about to be fucked until your body is overcome with such intense pleasure that you can’t even recall your own name … that’s why I’m never gonna sell this one. Gonna have to bust ass to build a replacement ’cause this one is going to become a permanent fixture. What do you think of that, my sexy princess?”

“I think you’re crazy, Sir.”

“You’re about to experience crazy. Ready?”

“I have been since that night in the cab of your truck, Sir. Actually I can’t really put into words the feelings you arouse in me, dark desires I’m so drawn to … experiences I know only you can allow me.”

His bare feet come alongside the bench and he crouches down next to me. His mouth presses into mine, branding me with his kiss, his taste, his scent. His lips are firm and unyielding, exactly like him. I want to touch him, to caress his cheek, but I can only clench my fists as he pulls away, whispering, “You’re such a beautiful sub; you really are.”

And with that he’s gone. I hear a drawer slide open behind me as he tells me seductively, “Just because it’s your first time being taken by me doesn’t mean that I’m going to go easy on you, but I won’t gag you. I want to learn your sounds, sweet princess, and if I do my job right they will be the sweetest sounds …. You won’t even realize you’re making them under my touch.”

A full-body shudder rips thorough me at the potent thought.

***

Damn! I can’t remember the last time I’ve encountered a women so amped for play. I look her over and am transfixed by the stark contrast of her porcelain skin draped over the midnight-black leather. She is more stunning than anything I’ve ever laid eyes on and the fact that she’s a clean slate—so willing and intelligent—is a stratosphere away from what I could’ve ever hoped for in a submissive.

She’s waiting so patiently, but even from across the room I can hear her breathing—a fast pant, proving how nervous and aroused she is for the new experiences to come. More than half of my visits to Sangre would be to merely observe subs during a scene. I studied their reactions of pain and pleasure and was particularly fascinated by the ones who would try to mask their emotions, for whatever reason, from their Dominants. You have to understand the woman you are taking on in order to teach her effectively. Unless you know her virtues and vices fully, you are setting up a foundation that will have deep cracks and eventually crumble. No, my goal is the polar opposite: I will be her mentor and lover. At that thought I reach into the drawer of the tall dresser and glide my fingers over the selection of blood-red leather paddles and floggers, each varying greatly in size and shape and all painstakingly created by a man named Master Johan in Belgium. I’m a particular bastard, especially when it comes to details. I have to have the very best or I don’t want it around. It’s my nature, as immovable as Briksdalsbreen Glacier.

This one.

I pull out a medium-length flogger, close the drawer and head back to my little bound captive. My hand runs the length of the supple suede fringes as I stare down, admiring her pert ass and delicate pussy.

“Have you ever been spanked with a hand or anything else?”

“N-never.”

I remain silent, waiting for her to catch her own mistake. After about five seconds, she ekes out, “I mean, no, never, Sir.”

“Good, then your first session will be done the right way. I promise you won’t ever forget it.”

She braces for pain, but I have something else in mind for her ‘warm-up.’

Dropping down to my knees, I place the flogger beside me and lean in close to inhale her gorgeous scent. My hand reaches up to grab two handfuls of her silky ass as I lean in, feeling like the luckiest fucking Dom on earth as I take a long, slow swipe of her wet perfection.

I can hardly comprehend her loud, needy whimper because my brain is on hyper-drive from her exquisite taste.

More!

I can’t resist lapping wildly at her, savoring the way her soft heat is like a caress on my tongue. It’s takes more than willpower to pull away, knowing from how wet she is that she’s teetering on the verge of an orgasm. But I’m not ready to push her off the cliff into that addictive abyss just yet …. No, my sexy little one will have to earn that right.

I pick up the flogger, stand and swipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My dick is so damn hard that it’s throbbing in pain. It’ll be a miracle if I’m disciplined enough to get through this session without tossing the flogger aside and rutting on her like a stag in heat.

No. If it takes everything I’ve got, I’m going to make her beg for it.

“Ready, sub?” I grate out, my voice echoing throughout the space.

“Ready, Sir.”

“You know your safeword?”

“I know it, Sir.”

“Say it,” I demand.

“Licorice, Sir.”

“Take a deep breath.”

My fist clenches the braided handle as I pull my arm back high over my shoulder and swing. The blow is swift, landing with impeccable precision.

“Agh!”

That’s right, baby, sing for me.

She barely has time to finish the first scream when the second strike lands, covering the opposite cheek in blossoming cherry-red stripes. Gorgeous.

Her fists are clenched and her cries are coming out in a flurry of beautiful sounds as I land the blows over and over, marking her ass and upper thighs as I see fit. I nearly lose it when I see that her pussy is actually dripping, a telltale sign she’s getting exactly what she needs from this exchange. At the twentieth stroke, I toss the flogger to the floor and mount her, planting a hand in the center of her trembling back and using my fist to guide the head of my engorged cock right into her.

“Oh! Oh, God yes!” The scream tears from her mouth.

I can’t suppress the growl that comes from deep inside my chest as I slowly push forward, marveling at how slick and glove-tight she is around me. Once I’m seated deeply, I dig my fingers into the soft, marked flesh of her glorious ass. The Dominant inside of me roars to life: All yours! She’ll never have another!

I pull my hips back and slam into her forcefully. Her channel is stretched to the limit around me when she looks back and begs desperately, “Aksel, oh Sir, I’m right on the edge! Oh God, so close … please, please!”

“No. Only when I say so, sub, not a second earlier. Got it?”

Sweat-soaked, she nods rapidly as she struggles for control, tiny fists clenched as she chews on her bottom lip, trying anything to distract her from the orgasm that is bearing down on her like a cyclone.

I slide my hands up to press my palms right into the sexy twin indentations just above her tailbone. I let my hips go, fucking her in an unforgiving, relentless rhythm, making her feel my dominance as I plunge in and out of her tight sheath.

Her desperate cries are endless, and as much as I want this to last all fucking day, I know there is a limit to what she can take before her body has its way.

“Give it to me now, sub. I want to feel that orgasm that’s been building inside you. Do it now!”

I pick up the pace, swiftly gaining momentum until I’m pounding into her at a furious speed.

“Oh, oh, yes! Sir! God! Yes!”

I yell out as she begins to clench around me, the waves of her orgasm rolling in, one on top of the other. The pleasure is too much to bear; I’m right on the verge. I pummel into her three more times before I lean forward, sliding my hands up to grab her sweaty shoulders as I go incredibly deep, releasing hotly inside of her. My voice is raw as I shout, “Fuck yeah, Ingvild!”

Now I know exactly what Valhalla would be like for the ancient warriors. There’s nothing that begins to compare to this extreme sensation.

Rational thought slowly filters back into my endorphin-flooded brain, and I realize I’m practically splayed out on top of her. Slowly, I place a kiss at the base of her glistening neck and ask softly, “Where did you come from?”

“Hmm?” She twists her neck to look back, still panting and dazed by what just happened between us.

I lift myself off her and gently pull out of her heated body. Swiftly I undo the fastenings to release her. She tries to push up and nearly topples off the device. My arms slip around her waist as I help her down and to her feet, murmuring, “Easy now.”

She sways a bit then looks up at me, saying in awe, “I don’t know how you did it.”

I cock my head to one side. “Did what?”

“You brought me to a beautiful place where the terrible thoughts and stress from everything was unable to affect me. You wiped them away, at least temporarily, giving me pleasure beyond my wildest fantasies. So, I should be the one asking you, ‘Where did you come from?’ Because as far as I’m concerned, there’s no one else like you.”

I’m floored by her words and do the first thing that feels natural—I pull her into my chest and kiss the top of her hair.

Minutes pass in contented silence before I make her the promise I intend to keep, “I’ll get rid of him so you’ll never have to be afraid again.”

Nothing infuriates me more than seeing the look of worry that borders on sheer panic play across her beautiful features. He will be stopped, and I think I know how it can be done.

“Oh!” She cries out as I bend low and toss her over my shoulder, landing a possessive smack on her heated right ass cheek.

“What the—”

“No time to waste, need to get you showered and fed, princess. We’ve got a big day ahead.”

I’m climbing the stairs and she’s clutching my lower back, her soft hair tickling my legs and ass as it sways back and forth.

“Come on, Aksel, where are we going today?”

“Oh, I never ruin a surprise, but I’ll give you two hints: it’s not far and your skills will be tested.”

Chapter Ten

Holmenkollen

“You brought us here to watch the ski jumpers?”

“Not exactly.”

A nervous, questioning look flicks across her features as she asks slowly, “Then what?”

“Follow me.”

I hold her hand and our boots crunch along the snowy path. We make our way around the back of the massive steel ski jump. Once I get us close enough and spot what I’m looking for, I point up to the back platform. “Tell me, how brave are you, my princess?”

She stares at the tiny black figures that begin to descend down from the dual ropes in a swift, controlled freefall. A scream of excitement comes from one of the suspended bodies.

She watches in rapt silence. Finally she says, “Abseiling? I didn’t even know they offered it here.”

“It’s been around a few years and I’ve already called ahead to book our times. Don’t even think of backing out on me now.”

She crosses her arms and huffs out, “Back out? I’ll beat you down that rope, Aksel. You can count on that.”

I can’t disguise my amusement and break into a full smile. “There’s my girl.”

“So, when are we doing this?”

I check my watch. “Ten minutes. I was saving this surprise until the last minute in case you were frightened. Come on, we need to get up there.”

***

The instructor is busy triple-checking his work on my ropes and harness. “Exactly how is this going to happen?” I ask.

Without missing a beat—he’s clearly been asked the same roundabout question a thousand times—he replies, “We’ll walk you out to the observation deck, down ten stairs, then attach you both to a swing arm crane that will pivot, moving you both over the side of the ski jump. You’ll go down as quickly or slowly as you like.”

“Got it.”

Another instructor calls over to us, “He’s ready to go!”

“So is she. I’ll take them both. Follow me.”

Aksel looks calm, considering the circumstances. The instructor opens a glass door, leading us out onto the observation deck. Thankfully there is little wind today, but the snow is falling steadily and instantly begins to cling to my braids. I fight the urge to check the strap on my black crash helmet when Aksel leans in to ask, “Excited?”

“Very.”

“Excellent. Let’s do this. See you at the bottom.”

“Not if I beat you there.”

He chuckles low. “We’ll see.”

The blond man is all business, hooking us into the attachments of the white long-armed crane.

Easy girl, today isn’t your day to die ….

My body is humming with equal parts nervous energy and fear. God, is there anything about this man that doesn’t set off a torrential downpour of emotions? I’m in deep already, readily accepting the natural progression that’s happening. I’ve nailed what it is about him: he makes me feel safe. That’s it—safe and desired. No lover has ever made me feel that way before.

The instructor’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “You’re all latched and secure. Everyone ready?”

He looks at both of us and we nod. Stepping away, he starts the device. I gasp as it begins to move us slowly out and over the perilous edge. I can’t help but break into a huge smile; never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed I’d be dangling nearly sixty meters in the air off the side of the Holmenkollen ski jump on a Sunday afternoon.

“Look at me, Ingvild.”

My hands are trembling, clenched tightly around the rope as I meet his eyes. He says playfully, “Let me see those skills of yours. Ready, set … go!”

Competitive instinct takes over, masking any fear of being suspended so high. He’s already a full body length below me before I get a smooth rappelling motion going with my arms, determined to catch up to him.

That’s right, show him what you’ve got ….

Closing in on the bottom, we nearly swing into each other in our furious attempt to win. I’m gasping for air when my foot touches solid ground. He lands hard and heavy not a second later and we both struggle not to pitch forward. We’re laughing our asses off from the thrilling experience. He staggers into me, one hand pulling me in by the waist, the other patting the top of my helmet. Breathless, he says, “That’s was too fucking awesome. Congratulations! I’ll give you that win but know that I’ll show no mercy the next time we meet on these ropes.”

“Wait, did you show mercy just now? I narrow my eyes suspiciously.

“No, I didn’t, princess. You won fair and square.” A dark, sly smile forms on his lips seconds before I’m swept up in his luscious kiss.

Perfect. How can he be so enthralling? I felt like I’d entered a nightmare the night we first met, but somehow, it miraculously morphed into a seductive dream, one I never want to wake from.

***

I’m beside her in the passenger seat of her Audi when the text comes though. I glance down to read what Mikkel has to say, Need to meet up. Coffee tomorrow AM?

I quickly type back, 8AM the café on the corner near your shop.

Without taking her eyes off the snowy road, she says quietly, “You know, you really didn’t need to ride back into the city with me just to make certain I’m safe, Aksel. My neighbors and I always look out for one another and I have an excellent deadbolt on my door. I’ll be just fine.”

“Told you already, Ingvild, I want to check it out for myself before I feel all right leaving you alone, got it?”

She nods and asks, “So you’re working in Oslo all week?”

“That’s the plan. Have a mountain of work to nail down this week. Most of my orders are requesting a holiday delivery.”

“Do you need a—”

She never has a chance to finish because the blow comes hard and fast from behind, sending the little compact into a wild tailspin across the icy metal bridge. She’s screaming and fighting in vain to get the steering wheel under control. I whip around and see a big green pickup behind us. Instinct tells me it was no accident. Her car finally comes to a jerking halt, the back end straining against the guardrail that acts as the lone barrier between us and the icy waters several meters below.

Both of the men in the battered truck are wearing dark ski masks, and terror grips me as I shout at her, “Get out! Get the fuck out right now!”

The words are still flying out of my mouth when the driver of the truck punches the accelerator, sending it racing toward us at a furious clip. The seconds slow down as my head turns to watch her fumbling with her seatbelt.

Can’t leave her, no time ….

The truck smashes into us and the damaged rail can’t withstand the additional pressure as it shreds apart. Her car gives little resistance before we’re pushed right over the edge of the narrow bridge. The force of hitting the water knocks my breath right out of my lungs. I struggle to suck in air and turn to get her seatbelt undone. She’s in shock, skin white as chalk, slim fingers trembling against the fastening. I push them away and finally undo the damn thing. The frigid water is already pouring into the car, and by the time I get the passenger window open it’s up to our knees. The weight is pulling the car down rapidly. I can hear people shouting from the banks of the river but I know they’d never reach us in time.

“Hurry, lose your boots! You’ll drown in them.”

She kicks off her boots and I grip the front of her parka with my right fist, pulling her across my body to force her out the open window. I ditch my shoes and follow right behind her, struggling against the invading water. The water feels like a torture chamber of ice; the pain is excruciating.

Land isn’t as far as I’d thought and bystanders are already wading in, ready to help.

My teeth are rattling as I tread water beside her, “Ingvild, can you take off your coat? You’ll swim better.”

“Y-yeah.”

Oh fuck, her lips are already blue. We’ve got to get moving asap!

Once we’re both free of our coats, we start the torturous swim to shore. At first I’m confused as to why my limbs aren’t responding normally, but it makes sense—a natural numbing reaction to the shock of the icy water. Thank fuck this river hasn’t frozen over yet ….

I yell in triumph when our feet touch bottom, realizing that we’ve just cheated death. Before I know it, we’re being pulled out onto the shoreline. Sirens are beginning to whir in the distance and voices are coming from all sides, “Dear God, are you all right? That truck took off! Can you feel everything? That was no accident!”

I reach for her shoulders and pull her into me. We’re both trembling forcefully as I turn to shout out the only question I care about, “Did anybody get the plate number?”

An older man says angrily, “No. The truck had no plates. I looked!”

“Fuck!” I roar.

The man continues, “Come, let’s get you both up to the road and into a car before you get hypothermia.”

Someone tosses a thick blanket around us, but it’s useless because of how saturated we are. Each step is agony as we fight to get up the hill to the road. The paramedics have arrived and are rushing down to meet us. I’m half-dragging Ingvild, who is silent and drained of all color. In this moment I only have one thought booming through my brain: Vengeance.

Chapter Eleven

Monday Morning

Oslo

“You look like shit, Aksel. Out partying last night?”

I take a sip of my coffee, stare across into Mikkel’s face, and in a grave tone tell him, “Hardly. Ingvild and I both nearly fucking died yesterday when a truck ran us off a bridge on the northern edge of the city.”

His eyes go hard as flint and his mug is nearly crushed in his grip as he asks, “You know who it was, don’t you?”

“Not one hundred percent, but with the way it went down, I’ve got a good idea. The fact that she blew off Lars the night before tells me that he’s willing to take road rage to an entirely new level just to make his point.”

Slowly he asks, “Lars? The leader of the Norsemen?”

I nod.

“Why and more importantly how is Ingvild involved with Lars Bjerke? What the hell do I need to know?”

“Mikkel, there’s a mountain of information you need to be updated on but before that happens know that we need your help or someone is likely be killed.”

“Jesus Christ! You can never underestimate these whack-job extremists. Know that the brothers and I will do whatever it takes to back you up. Even though you haven’t patched in yet, you’re still one of us. Same blood flowing, you feel me?”

“Yeah, and I appreciate it, Mikkel, really do. Because this fucker is so unpredictable, this situation is on the edge of spiraling out of control and something needs to be done to contain it.

“What do you have in mind?”

“At first, I just wanted my mask back. Now I think he needs to be put down.” Seeing Mikkel’s confusion, I continue, “Shit, a hundred years ago, if someone tried to kill you and your girl, you’d be well within your rights to take them out. Now the laws make it next to impossible to go around the police. I sure as hell don’t want to do a stretch of time like Alreck did, so I was thinking of trapping him, catching his sneaky ass committing a serious crime on film.

“It’s interesting that you say that, because I have some info that you should know.”

Come on Mikkel, give me something good.

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t discuss my clients—as far as I’m concerned it’s a very private transaction. I’m positive that the same is true of your business.”

“It is.”

“Well, under the circumstances, I’m prepared to make an exception. You should know that Mr. Bjerke is a client of mine.”

My jaw goes slack with fury before I slowly hiss, “You built a ride for that little fucker?”

“No. I built a sweet ride for the little fucker’s father. He’s a first-class man and what I’m about to share with you had better not leave this table, Aksel.”

I stare at him impatiently and nod, “All right.”

“Mr. Bjerke was very pleased with his finished product, so much so that he asked me to join him for dinner at a local steakhouse to celebrate. It was after several rounds of liquor that he opened up about his personal life, telling me that he was frustrated with his only child, Lars. He’d bailed him out one too many times, either with money, influence or a combination of the two. He told me he was at the end of his rope and was through cleaning up his shit.”

“What did you say?”

“What could I say? I don’t have a kid yet, so I just listened. I think that’s all the man wanted anyhow. If what the father told me five months ago is true then if you trap Lars and do it right—get solid evidence against hate crimes or theft—it’s unlikely Mr. Bjerke will intervene on his behalf. It seems that he’s come to realize that Lars’ aggression is only going to escalate. Now, if you want to go down another route, we could all ride out to pay the punks a little warning visit. That might be enough to make them back off because very few idiots on the planet will take on an MC. He might be a dick, but he’s not dumb.”

“That would only be a temporary fix. According to Ingvild, he’s never going to leave her alone. I’m set on making one hundred percent certain he does. Trapping him is a better option.”

“Where’s Ingvild now?”

“She’s in class over at the university. I’m picking her up at noon.”

He leans forward, saying, “You’re not going to want to hear this, Aksel, but sooner or later Bern will need to know what’s going on with you and her, and if you’re expecting my protection, I need to know everything.”

Oh fuck, here I go ….

After a long pause, I say, “I’m the one who shot her that night.”

The handle on his mug snaps off in his hand and he looks like he’s going to lean across and bite my fucking nose off my face as I quickly continue, “Lars blackmailed her into breaking into my home to steal the mask. The little brother is in deep with a gambling debt and they were ready to fuck him up good. She did what she could to fix the situation, not realizing that her involvement would make everything much worse. She got away that night, but not before I clipped her shoulder. I had her skull locked in but changed my mind—thank fucking Christ for that. It wasn’t until you came to my house that day and mentioned a woman connected with the club being shot that I found her, and now I would take ten bullets to erase the one I hit her with. I’m in deep with her, Mikkel, and the fact that there is a threat to her life is eating away at me every second. Now he wants her, and all I know is that psychopath has to be stopped because he’s unstable enough to want her dead rather than see her with someone other than him.”

He’s silent for a long time. Just when I think he’s going to get up and walk out, he finally replies, “You need to have a one on one with Bern. We don’t keep secrets from each other in my club. He’s a smart guy and knows something serious is up; he just doesn’t know the nasty details. He’s going to find out everything eventually, so it’s best you tell him because my man, if he hears you were the one who shot his baby sister without understanding the reason behind it, then you may as well open up the fuckin’ gates of hell because an unstoppable demon will be coming for you. And no one, not Alreck, not me, not any of the brothers will be able to hold him back. The best case scenario is containment.”

I look off behind him toward the windows; the snow is coming down hard, blanketing everything in an infinite sea of white.

I sigh, “You’re right. I’ll meet him. My mobile’s at the bottom of the river. I’m heading out to pick up a new one now. I’ll text you later today.”

“I’m glad that you see the gravity of the situation, Aksel. Once you clear the air with him—and it’s going to take time, believe me—the tension between you two will hopefully dissipate and we can focus on what’s coming at you from the Norsemen. You keep Ingvild safe and I’ll handle the rest.”

I stand, zip my coat and place my hand on the shoulder of my closest friend before heading off into the swirling whiteout.

***

My mind is pulling up delicious images from the erotic shower we took together in his studio yesterday when my classmate Grethe catches up with me near the entrance. “Hey Ingvild, can you email me the bonus points sheet from the professor? Somehow I’ve misplaced it.”

“Sure, I’ll send it over later today.”

“Thanks. I see you’re in your work clothes. I bet the Cliff is slammed with customers this time of year.”

“It’s been crazy for sure. It seems like we can’t get the inventory unboxed fast enough before the racks thin out. At least it makes the shifts go by quickly. Are you still working the counter at your sister’s bakery?”

“Yes, and the orders are streaming in. The money is good. I’m there most evenings, which is no fun. Hey, do you need a ride? The weather is terrible.”

“Thanks, but I have someone picking me up.”

She pushes though the set of heavy glass doors, saying, “See you Wednesday then.”

“Bye.”

I’m watching for Aksel’s truck as I replay the events from yesterday. After the hell we went through in the river, the police had us give statements and I spoke up, telling them that I believe Lars and his group were directly involved in what happened on that bridge. Unfortunately, because the men were wearing masks and driving a virtually untraceable vehicle, we were told there was not enough evidence to charge them. But at least it’s comforting to know that they would be paying the nasty gang a visit. Maybe the cops’ probing questions will be enough to get Lars to back off, but I doubt it. He’s a menace with his own warped agenda. I stayed at Aksel’s studio last night, and a friend in his building was nice enough to give him a lift back to his home in Sørkedalen so he could get his truck. He insisted on going to my apartment after that to bring me fresh clothes, along with my bag for class.

The headlights of his massive truck shine bright as he pulls to the curb. He told me to stay inside the building until he arrived and I agreed, although it’s tempting to defy him in order to receive another one of his addicting punishments … and he always delivers. My upper thighs and ass are proof, still aching from the thorough spanking he gave me in the shower when I hesitated to follow one of his dark commands. A deep blush creeps across my face as I recall how dripping wet I was, pinned against that slick wall, my legs wrapped tightly around his toned hips as he thrust into me, at the same time telling me he knows what’s best. Not even the snowflakes can cool off my body from the scorching memory as I make my way to his truck, eager to see him.

Suddenly, my shoulder is grabbed so roughly that I spin around and struggle not to lose my footing in the snow.

Oh no! Noooo!

Lars is directly in my face, his fury almost palpable as he seethes at me, “You’ve got some explaining to do, bitch! The cops just came to my place. And according to them, you’re the reason.”

I step back, yelling, “Get away from me, you monster!”

Run. Get to Aksel!

I rush by him but he grabs for the bag slung across my chest. With one sure tug I’m pulled right up against him. I panic, looking around frantically. Other students have slowed to watch what’s going on, realizing that something is very wrong.

“You’re coming with me.”

Suddenly my bag is free and I stagger back in shock. Aksel is standing in front of Lars and I can actually feel the ferocity that’s rolling off of him in toxic waves as he says in a chilling voice, “That is the very last time you will ever lay a hand on my girl.”

Lars pulls back to punch Aksel in the side of the head, but Aksel is too fast, blocking the blow with his left forearm and simultaneously landing a fast, hard punch to the gut, causing Lars to double over sputtering. Then Aksel goes in for the kill, using both hands to slam Lars’ face down hard against his left knee, producing a garbled shout.

In the same flat, sinister tone, Aksel adds, “There’s more where that came from if you ever come within five meters of Ingvild or Kjetil. Your fixation with her is over. She’s all mine, permanently. I don’t give a fuck who you’re connected to or who your thug buddies are. I’m far meaner and smarter than you and that’s a fact asshole.”

Clutching his spewing nose, Lars is backing away with a murderous glare as Aksel continues, “One last thing: you put so much as a hairline scratch on my mask before I get it back and I’ll take every one of your teeth as payment.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning to stalk back toward the still-running truck, grabbing my hand without breaking his stride.

I struggle to get a grip on my wild emotions as Aksel helps me up into the passenger seat. It’s then that I see the large group that has gathered to watch the fight. Some point at the bright red blood that’s scattered across the fresh snow, while others stare at Lars as he makes his way down the sidewalk, swiping angrily at his face.

Aksel is pulling out into traffic and staring straight ahead as I ask, “This is never going to end, is it?”

“Oh yeah, it’s coming to a close. Real soon in fact.”

“What do you think he would’ve done had you not been there?”

I shift to look at him. His sleek jaw still twitches from the fight.

He glances over at me then focuses again on the busy road. “I’ll always be there for you. You’re far too important to me and I take care of what’s valuable in my life, Ingvild.”

He digs into his pocket and without looking my way hands me a matte silver iPhone, saying, “Here, I picked you up a new mobile when I replaced mine today. I want you to call your work and tell them you’ll be out sick for the next two days.”

“What? You’re joking right? I can’t do that, and why should I? I’m not going to let him scare me away from my life.”

Smoothly he replies, “You’ll be punished for that insolence. You don’t defy your Dom, in or out of the bedroom. What we’re building together is based on a foundation of trust, and if you don’t trust me then we’re doomed to fail.”

My head is about to explode as I try to be rational, saying, “All right then. Tell me why you asked me to take time off, so that I can understand.”

“Because you won’t be in town. I want you in a safe place with me so I can put my plan together without constant distractions. And there’s another reason.”

I blink and ask, “What’s that?”

“You need to see firsthand the world that I’m offering you so you can choose.”

“Choose?”

“Yes, Ingvild. I’m going to push you to your breaking point at Sangre to see if what’s been happening between us is just a curious pastime for you or if you’re in it for the long haul as my submissive. This experience will give me the answers I seek and the clarity you need. Are you in?”

I would follow him anywhere. Aside from my family, he’s the one person I fully trust with my well-being. My hand reaches out to lie across his warm one, wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Softly I ask, “How long is the flight to Spain?”

His lush lips tilt up and those magnetic eyes shift to catch mine as he says, “Four hours. Glad to see your spirit of adventure, princess.”

“Thanks. I’m actually looking forward to getting away from all this stress, even if it’s just for a short while.”

His eyes are locked on the road as he says in an all-male rumble, “Make no mistake, I’ll keep you completely distracted so long as you’re open-minded and willing. You’re going to experience things there that you’ve never imagined. Some will turn you on beyond belief and others might make you want to turn and run screaming out of the club. But all will be permanently imprinted on your memory. And Ingvild, I have no doubt that you will make me proud.”

I squeeze his fingers. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

Lifting his hand off the steering wheel, he brings my fingers to his lips and presses a kiss there. “Good girl,” he whispers.

Chapter Twelve

10:00 p.m.

Sangre

Madrid, Spain

I fight the urge to adjust the black leather corset he purchased for me only hours before. It’s hidden deep within the folds of the sumptuous floor-length midnight blue velvet cloak, so it really shouldn’t matter if I’m spilling out or not, at least until it comes time to shed the layers ….

The silver Suburban climbs the final portion of the intricately paved drive, and the first thing I see is a long row of torches flickering brightly in the distance. As we roll closer, I’m able to make out a massive structure that resembles a Moorish palace. When he first mentioned Sangre, I pictured a club hidden below the hectic streets of Madrid; instead we arrive at a stately structure located nearly twenty minutes northeast of the thriving city. It could easily be the home of a government official.

No one to hear you scream way out here Ingvild ….

A fresh wave of panic streams though my veins as we roll to a stop. Aksel slides out first, offering me his hand as I step out of the hotel’s complimentary vehicle. He tips the driver, says something I can’t quite make out, and waits for him to drive off before turning my shoulders to face him.

Aksel’s sexy voice floats through the chilly air, “The driver will return for us in a few hours, but I can always phone him if we need him to come earlier.” Sensing my unease, he adds in a quieter tone, “I thought the mask might make it easier for you this first time, but you can take it off before we go in if you like.”

I run my fingers across the delicate black lace. “No, I like being anonymous. I want to keep it on.”

His arm wraps protectively around my shoulders as he says, “Come with me, little one. I’ll look after you the entire time, so let go of any fears you might have right now.”

He rubs my shoulder several times and drops his arm to seek out my hand, which is buried in the soft folds. As he leads us to the entrance, I whisper, “I’m trying to be brave, Aksel.”

He goes still and immediately I correct myself, “I meant, I’m trying to be brave, Sir.”

He nods and resumes his purposeful stride. With each step my heart pounds violently in my chest. The roaring sound is nearly deafening. Calm down, you know he’s never mistreated you. Let him take the reins ….

We approach the high arches of the grand building and I tilt my head in wonder. I had no idea there were this many affluent people who were into public kink. In an effort to distract myself, I study the double set of carved wooden doors, nearly missing the shadowy figure that steps forward as we approach. The dark-haired doorman looks like a hit man in his tailored shirt and slacks, complete with a very visible gun holster. His probing eyes scan Aksel before tracking over to me. I’m holding my breath as he finally says smoothly, “Welcome, Mr. Svendsen.”

The man’s hand reaches out to open the towering door. “Good evening, Benicio,” Aksel replies.

Entering the artistically tiled hallway, I glance up and say, “I don’t speak Spanish. Will that be a problem?”

“No, not at all. You shouldn’t be speaking to anyone but me tonight, and if anyone addresses you, they will do so in English. The members of this club are mostly international, and as you heard at the door, English is the language of choice. Of course, the members address their subs and Masters in their given language, which is only natural. Therefore you will hear some very interesting dialects and languages if you listen closely.”

“You won’t let anyone else touch me, will you, Sir?”

Without missing a beat, he says in a neutral voice, “If it pleases me, I will, but I hadn’t planned on it. Why do you ask?”

“Because, Sir, I only want you to touch me, ever—not some foreign stranger.”

He stops and drops a kiss on my left cheek, saying intimately, “All right, pet. After all you’ve been through this week, I’ll grant you that one request. But that is all for tonight, understood?”

Good, that takes a lot of tension out of the unknown.

“Understood, and thank you, Sir.”

He leads us deeper along the candlelit hallway. The walls are garnet red, evoking a primal craving for the hedonistic pleasures that beckon from within.

My palms are damp, but the apprehension is waning, and taking its place is a humming thrill. He was right. This place is exactly what I need—the ultimate distraction. We wind our way farther into the labyrinth, greeted by the hypnotic strains of Spanish guitar. The sensual music mingles seamlessly with the moans and cries of pleasure or pain. The arousing sounds prove to be nearly indistinguishable from one another.

The noises are growing louder, and before we turn the corner, he stops us. Looking into my eyes, he tells me, “This is where you’ll lose yourself for me, Ingvild. Let the experiences take you to that place where only maximum pleasure matters. Am I clear?”

“Yes, all right. I’ll try, Sir.”

“Come.”

His hand at the small of my back guides me as we head into the spacious main area. It resembles an ultra-luxurious harem. The ceiling is painted with elaborate motifs, and everything is decorated in rich crimson and silver, accented by the warmth of polished wood. There are at least five leather alcove-style seating areas and two main stages for the action. Every seat is occupied by exquisitely dressed men and women, some in formal wear and others clad in full leather. More than half are disguised in a variety of masks to protect their anonymity.

My eyes lock onto a stunning redhead, a female Dominatrix who is working her athletic male sub over on a giant St. Andrews cross; each strike from her braided bullwhip leaves a fresh, blooming red welt on his toned ass and thighs while his booming shouts slice through the room. I marvel at the rivulets of sweat cascading down his broad shoulders and tattooed back as he struggles in vain against his wide leather cuffs. Without warning, she tosses the whip aside and strides up to whisper something in his ear. Panting hard, he nods eagerly, practically begging her with his exotic accent, “Please, Mistress Isabelle, I’ll do anything. Oh God, please let me cum!”

She peels off her long gloves and strides over to retrieve an object from a nearby bag before returning to him. I watch, fascinated, as she presses her magnificent leather catsuit flush against his raw backside, reaching one hand around to grasp his straining cock while the other snakes up between his spread legs to work a vibrator into his ass. The strong pulsing starts up between my legs and my nipples are aching, nearly begging to be fondled as I watch her dominate him. His grunts and moans of ecstasy fill the cavernous room as she works her hands like a virtuoso. I can tell that he’s trying desperately to hold back, to be obedient until she gives him the green light. I’m holding my breath with anticipation when she finally gives the command, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “Cum for me slave. Do it … right now!”

His body reacts immediately to her voice, jerking violently in his leather bindings as streams of cum pulse out of his thick sex. His cries of pleasure flood the room for several seconds before his head falls back in exhaustion.

I’m trembling with desire as I slowly turn to look up at Aksel. Reading the need in my eyes, he pushes back my hood before unfastening the clasp at my neck. The heavy velvet flutters down to the floor as he promises in a low voice, “You’re up next, pet. And I’m very eager to play with my prize.”

His eyes change, flickering from refined to predatory in the span of a few seconds. I swallow hard, desperate to maintain an ounce of composure in front of this group of strangers, but it’s next to impossible because my body practically burns for his mastery.

***

The unmistakable look of arousal gleams in her green eyes. The mask is a perfect complement to her sexy outfit, lending an air of mystery to my blonde temptress. Tonight I’m going to make her wait—oh yeah, wait—and plead hard for release. And if she cums before I allow it, then she’ll pay a high price. I’m black and white when it comes to my domination; my authority is absolute.

I glance around and recognize the majority of the faces here tonight. Many use aliases because of their positions in society. A few smile and nod at me. All are examining my tempting sub with appreciation. How could they not? Her skin is pale silk, contrasted against her ebony corset. To complete the look, I allowed her only Brazilian lace panties along with a pair of five-inch black Louboutins. I left her legs bare to give me access to nearly every inch of her.

“Up you go, pet.”

Her cheeks are flushed as she steps up onto the curved stage. An attendant rushes off, having just thoroughly cleaned the imposing cross.

“Turn around and step back for me, sub.”

She does as she’s told and waits, her shoulders trembling.

“Good. Now spread your legs and raise your arms.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Her wide eyes never veer away from mine.

Her soft voice cracks slightly as she asks, “This is your design, isn’t it, Sir?”

My lips form a slight smile. “It is, princess. And you look incredible on it.”

I know every nuance of this piece. I’ve used it countless times with a variety of gorgeous, willing women, yet somehow this time seems infinitely different, deeper, and more intimate.

You love her, that’s why.

I can’t define the exact moment it happened, but like a wave, the emotion crashes over me. There is no turning back.

Seconds pass and she asks, “Sir? Is something wrong?”

Staring into her trusting face, I answer, “No, pet, nothing at all. Everything is exactly as it should be.”

I reach up to fasten the buckle around her left wrist and ask, “Feel all right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

She’s clearly excited, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything on earth more than I want to possess her at this moment.

I slide the leather though the thick buckle and give it a firm tug before doing the same to the other three bindings. Once finished, I turn away and walk over to shrug out of my suit jacket. After laying it neatly across the back of a nearby chair, I cross over to the wall of hanging toys, studying the possibilities of each thoroughly before making my decision. I take more time than I need, knowing that the ticking seconds must seem like years to her. With the two wicked items dangling from my hand, I return to my suspended pet. I tuck the rigid crop into the back of my belt as the eyes of over thirty strangers feast upon her flesh. This is definitely not part of her typical Monday night routine. It’s better that we came tonight because I’ve seen seriously crazy scenes happen here on the weekends—some that even shocked the hell out of me. No, tonight is relatively tame in comparison. In the end it’s all a matter of perspective.

I stand before her, cross my arms, and state firmly, “Open your mouth.”

I can see that she doesn’t want anything to do with what’s clenched in my fist, and her hesitation has just bought her a swift, stern lesson. I move fast, uncrossing my arms and using my free hand to rip her panties right off her before pinching her pussy lips harshly together. Her gasp of surprise morphs into a piercing scream as the stinging pain bursts forth.

I’m still holding her delicate flesh mercilessly and her eyes fill with tears. Behind the mask, she wails, “Sir! I’m sorry! Ooh! Ooh Sirrrrr! Pleeeeaaase!”

My eyes are hard as I hold tight, expressing my displeasure at her open display of disobedience without uttering a single word. Her legs strain against the snug bindings, and she’s trying to do anything in her limited power to relieve the pain. I release her, hold the ball gag lengthwise in front of her flushed face, and say coldly, “Let’s try this again.”

Her jaw springs open to accept the device before the last word leaves my lips.

She’s a fast learner.

I deliberately chose a medium-sized gag, wanting to give her just a taste of the restraint it offers. Also, selfish prick that I am, the thought of streams of her drool running down her perfect face and heaving chest is enough to make my cock jerk and twitch with the need to fuck her.

Buckling the strap of the gag around the back of her head, I lean in to whisper comfortingly, “I know you can’t say your safeword with this on, so if you’re afraid I want you to hold up three fingers. Either hand will work. Nod that you understand me, pet.”

She looks relieved and nods eagerly.

I pull the crop out and step back, allowing her to watch as I let the supple leather tip strike the center of my palm in a dominant display of what awaits her. Slowly and methodically I walk around the cross, examining every delicious angle, allowing her imagination to run wild. I want her on a knife’s edge, the anticipation at a pinnacle before I even touch her.

After two complete circles I stop in front of her and extend my right arm, bringing the very tip of the crop to the soft underside of her chin. Slowly I apply just enough pressure to make it rise. When it’s exactly where I want her to keep it, I nod once and allow the leather to slowly kiss its way down the column of her flawless throat, stopping at her cleavage, the spot where her breasts rise and fall above the snug corset.

Her eyes are questioning; she isn’t used to having this much of her control stripped away. To be honest, I’m proud that she is up here in front of this room of onlookers. It will be interesting to see how far she’s willing to extend that trust.

I drag the crop back and across the top of her soft breasts before allowing it to slide down, coming to rest at the bare delicate juncture between her splayed legs.

She groans as I give her clit three stiff whacks. Oh yeah, that definitely captured her attention. I fight a smile as saliva begins to creep out of the edges of her mouth. She’s never looked so stunning in her submission and all I want is to take her, but I have to hold back, knowing this is a lesson we both need to experience.

I pull the crop back and examine the leather tip. It’s damp and to her absolute mortification I look up and give her a pleased smile.

I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the faces. They are all eagerly enjoying the show, wondering what will follow.

I drop the crop next to my shoes and reach into my front pocket for my Gerber knife. I pull it out and open it with a smooth snick, fully expecting to see her three fingers flash in the air; instead she waits, eyes flying back and forth between the glinting knife and my stoic face. I give her nothing in the way of comfort or reassurance as I move in closer. She must be terrified, but her instinct is to trust me and apparently that’s strong enough to make her go farther into our scene. With extreme care, I place the blade facing out, pressing against the top section of the exquisite leather garment. Methodically I begin to slice straight down the center.

A little fear will go a long way to enhance your pleasure, my sexy little princess ….

***

The expression on his face is practically savage as he wields the sharp knife with dedicated precision. I’m terrified, but also incredibly turned on—a combination that’s quite foreign to me. The hard, flinty look in his eyes reminds me of the night he found me at the Devil’s Wrath. A new rush of arousal tears through me. He seems to read it because his lips part and his breathing immediately quickens as the last section of the corset gives way to his cruel steel. A small, garbled cry spills forth from around the ball gag as the shredded leather drops to the floor, landing on the tip of one of his polished shoes. I can hardly keep from hyperventilating.

Damn, damn! Be calm, keep it together! I have an out, and aside from the night when I broke in, he’s never harmed me.

I’ve only ever been nude in front of a lover, yet somehow the idea of this risqué crowd watching us like this is making me absolutely crazed to be taken and used in whatever way pleases him. My nipples are so hard and tight that they throb in yearning agony. How long will he keep this up? A voice from deep inside me responds, As long as he likes, because you are his willing submissive and he knows what’s best for you.

My eyes slide shut. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the primal emotions that he’s drawing out of me.

His low voice jolts me back to reality. “Give me those eyes, pet. Only warning.”

I open them quickly to meet his austere gaze, and without warning, his warm hand fully palms my sex. A lone finger begins to glide back and forth before it slips straight up into me. He begins to work it in and out, stoking the fire that is about to combust. Oh, Aksel, so good ….

I clench my teeth and fists in a futile attempt to gain control over my raging lust. He continues to work me ruthlessly, knowing what he’s doing to edge me ever closer to a massive orgasm. I’m a panting, drooling mess and I’m doing everything I can not to cum. Suddenly the tempting waves of pleasure release involuntarily as my body betrays me, giving way to the ripples of bliss flooding my core. I strive to hold back the orgasm, but it’s far too late.

He immediately steps away from me and the forbidding look in his eyes says it all. You’ve disobeyed me and now you’re going to pay.

I try to eke out a ‘sorry,’ but the red rubber ball in my mouth makes it impossible. I watch in horror as he bends over to pick up the discarded crop.

His right hand raises high above his opposite shoulder, and in a blur of motion it descends in a targeted backhand stroke. The garbled scream that rips through me as the stiff crop lands cruelly on the soft flesh of my left inner thigh is so animalistic that I can’t believe it came from me. The pain is searing and I hardly have time to suck in a breath before he switches hands to mark me with a matching stripe on my opposite leg. My teeth dig into the rubber ball and my sole goal is to move away from the brutal object. I use every ounce of strength in my body to try and force the heavy cross backwards—anything to get away from the sinister crop. Nothing. In fact, it’s like trying to shove against a hulking boulder.

My shrieks turn into choked sobs as two more blows rain down on my throbbing thighs. Through a blur of tears, I see the crop tossed to the ground. He quickly removes the ball gag. His body is now pressing against mine, and the soft fabric of his shirt brushing against my nipples makes me jump as he says calmly, “Hush now, pet. You got what was coming to you. Now, are you going to behave?”

I sniff several times, struggling to get a grip as I answer him shakily, “Actually, I’m not sure which I want more right now, to hate you or to obey you, Sir.”

His voice sounds softer as he caresses the undersides of both my breasts. “That’s a natural reaction, but careful, pet, you have yet to answer my question and I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

I blink and feel the wetness of my lashes against my face as I answer honestly, “Yes, Sir, I’ll be good.”

“There’s my good girl. Everything is about learning, so let’s try this again.”

His hands are warm and soothing as they roam possessively over my breasts. He lowers himself down to his knees before me and I groan as his smooth tongue traces along the red welts he placed there only moments ago. It seems to soothe the harsh pain as he tracks carefully across my skin. The act is shockingly intimate and I’m sorely tempted to take a peek at the faces before us. No, just put all your focus on your Sir. I keep my eyes locked on his head as it moves down between my legs.

Oh my God, is this really about to happen, and right here of all places?

His tongue is hot as it plays across my clit and then moves farther back, swiping against my aching core.

Yes, yes … oh Sir … so perfect.

He controls me absolutely, like he was born to know exactly what drives me to the very precipice of ecstasy.

My shoulders begin to tremble as the need climbs once again. No matter what he does, there is no way in hell I’m going to slip up again ….

When I’m close, he backs off and looks up at me. His glazed lips tip up into a pleased smile and I’m vaguely aware of the sensual strains of “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails now thumping throughout the room. I watch curiously as he unbuckles first my left ankle, then my right.

Is it over?

He stands and my eyes go wide as he unbuckles his belt and unfastens his slacks, lowering his dark boxer briefs just enough for his straining cock to jut out, thick and proud and very eager for action.

That’s the only delicious glimpse I get before he moves in, lifting me high up, his palms wrapping around the backs of my thighs, fingers digging into the fresh welts he placed on me. He groans long and low as he enters me. My head falls back and I cry out as he shifts his hips, lowering me until I’m filled to the hilt by his impressive cock. I have to look. I lift my head and glance over his shoulder and watch the people staring hotly at us as my Sir begins to fuck me with brutal intensity. All I can do is hang suspended and take it. A few subs are shifting around in their seats, obviously turned on by the view. I’m so slick from what he did to my body that he’s able to pound in and out of me, thrusting with ease, forcing me to feel all of him as he has his way with me repeatedly. I hardly recognize my own voice as the needy wails pour out of me.

He begins hitting that spot deep inside and I can feel my lust taking over again. Hold back, Ingvild!

He ramps up his momentum, fucking me with brutal intensity, causing my arms to rub hard and fast against the leather-wrapped beams.

He grates out the lone command, “Cum, pet. Do it!”

With those four words my body acquiesces, instantly igniting into an inferno of euphoria. The fierce orgasm tears through me in wave after delicious wave while my cries of pleasure echo throughout the club. He’s heaving me up and down at a wicked pace when suddenly his grip tightens and he stills completely. A primal sound tears from his throat as he cums deep inside, branding me with his searing heat. All I can do is take it, and it’s so overwhelming and beautiful that it’s almost too much to bear.

Time seems to grind to a halt as he sets me down. I’m dazed as he gently unbuckles me from the cross and twines my arms around his neck before picking me up to carry me to a nearby sofa. It’s a good thing, because I’m so blissed out and dizzy that at this point I don’t think my legs would work. Someone hands him my cloak, which he carefully drapes over me. I’m snuggled tightly against his strong chest when I realize that all the trouble in Oslo hasn’t once crossed my mind. I know now that we’re strong enough together to overcome anything, and one day soon it will all be behind us.

***

I brush a damp strand of her silky hair away from her forehead and ask, “What’s on your mind, little one?”

She lifts her head and places a delicate kiss on the middle of my neck, saying, “You always do these addictive things to me, Sir, each one topping the last. How is that even possible?”

I chuckle and drop a kiss onto her rosy lips, “You make it easy, sub.”

She draws back and asks in confusion, “Really? Tell me how?”

“Demands?”

She blushes and my cock goes instantly hard again. “No, of course not, Sir. I meant, please explain to me how you think I make it easy for you.”

“That’s a more respectful tone. Because, Ingvild, all my dominant instincts roar to life whenever you’re close and that takes some getting used to. It’s never happened to me before. That’s why.”

“That’s intense, Sir.”

“Damn straight, sub. And you should know: I crave intensity.”

She squirms a bit in my lap and I can tell that my words are turning her on again. She’ll have to wait. I want to fuck her from behind later tonight while she’s bound to the fabric headboard of our hotel room. Tonight was amazing, but there was something possessive in me that sprang forth, not wanting others to see her naked. I’ve never experienced it before—that territorial instinct. I’ve taken eager subs numerous times on that same stage and felt only excitement—nothing that compared to the profound emotions that she evokes without trying. I can only conclude that it’s due to the depth of my love for her.

“Sir, is everything all right?”

Her small hand runs across the stubble of my cheek, eyes questioning.

“Everything’s fine. Let’s get out of here, get you some fresh clothing back at the hotel and grab a late dinner together in the city. I know a little place I think you’ll enjoy. Their sangria is delicious and the paella … well, you’re just going to have to experience it for yourself.”

“Ah, so that’s your nefarious plan, Sir, to get me tipsy and satiated so you can have your wicked way with me twice in a foreign country, right?”

“Actually, I just did have my way with you without the alcohol, princess, and you’ll lose count of how many times I’ll take you before we get on that return flight to Norway. C’mon, I want some alone time with my good girl. Let’s go.”

She whispers into my ear, “Sir, I’d follow you anywhere.”

I reach behind her head and pull the ribbon on her mask. It falls away and I stare across at her, wanting nothing more than to tell her that’s exactly why I love her, and that I feel the same. Instead I hold back, wanting the moment I declare those powerful words to be special, not something confessed on the sofa at a BDSM club. I ask her seriously, “Do you have any idea how fucking badly my soul needs to own yours?”

She stills completely, moved by my rare display of sentiment. Her fingers wind though mine, and quietly she says, “Oh, Aksel.”

I silence her with a possessive kiss. From this moment forward every drop of my energy belongs exclusively to her.

Chapter Thirteen

Saturday Night

8:00 p.m.

We roll up to Mikkel’s isolated home, a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired lakeside Nordic retreat. I shift in my seat and stretch my arms as Aksel pulls into the circular driveway, tires crunching the abundance of snow that’s fallen this evening.

Bern’s already here, terrific. I’d hoped we’d arrive before he and Lisetta did tonight, but I guess it’s better to face the firing squad and get this over with. Mikkel arranged this little gathering so everything could be laid out on the table. He’s fed up with the secrets and told me it’s best to come clean, especially with Bern, that it was necessary in order for everyone to move forward. He’s always been an honorable guy with the best intentions, and he’s determined to keep a clean club. Bern’s passion is building sweet rides and he knows all too well that you can’t do that from a prison cell, which is where he might end up if he ever found out the details of what went down from someone else. I just hope that this meeting doesn’t turn into a total nightmare, which it very well could if Bern’s not actually ready to hear all the nasty information he’s been hounding me for.

Putting the truck into park Aksel looks over and asks, “Feeling all right about this?”

I reach over, place my mitten on his thigh, and squeeze reassuringly. “Just a bit nervous about how he’ll react, that’s all. You think you really know someone, especially family, but sometimes they can stun the hell out of you.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, princess. He’s gonna be furious as fuck, and that’s no lie. But he deserves to know exactly what’s going on in his own family. If I were in his shoes, I’d demand the same.”

“But you two already have so much tension and hostility between you; my confession is only going to make everything far worse.”

He shrugs. “We’ll see. It’s too late to back out now. C’mon, let’s move. We’re running late.”

Mikkel must’ve heard us because we’re halfway up the steps when the mahogany door swings open. Mikkel calls out to us jokingly, “Get your fashionable asses in here before I freeze my balls off!”

I giggle and rush up the final few steps and embrace him in a hug, grateful for the warmth of his inviting home.

He extends a long arm in welcome, guiding us in. “Elora’s in the kitchen, prepping some appetizers. You can hang your coats on the hooks with all the others, then come to the living room. As you can guess, the booze is already flowing. Heavily.”

After giving him a firm handshake, Aksel says, “Thanks, man. Here, this is for you and Elora.” He hands him a bottle of 2007 Ovid Bordeaux.

Mikkel holds the white-labeled bottle in his huge hands and whistles low between his teeth. “Damn, Aksel, you certainly know your shit. She’s gonna love this. Actually, she’s been bugging the hell outta me to take the bike over to tour America, specifically the Napa Valley vineyards. Thanks man, we’ll bust it open later tonight.”

He turns and heads down the hall, calling out, “Elora! Check this out, min skjønne!”

I swiftly shrug out of my parka, eager to see my friends. I’ve been dodging them for too long in my crazed effort to protect Kjetil and myself. No more. Aksel was right. It’s best to lay everything out and leave the rest up to fate.

Aksel touches my lower back and smiles reassuringly as we make our way toward the living room. Entering the sweeping room lit by the soft glow of firelight, I spy my brother. He’s sitting on a hulking leather sectional with his arm draped casually across Lisetta’s shoulders. She’s laughing at something he’s just said, and suddenly I feel insanely guilty for having stressed him out with all my recent sketchy behavior. Nerves begin to take over as we move in closer. I’ve seen Bern furious only once and I can’t stop the cold shiver that slinks down my spine from the jarring memory.

Aksel reaches for my hand, holding tight as we stand together in front of the roaring fire.

Lisetta’s beaming as she jumps up and says in a loud, excited voice, “Hi there, stranger!” She quickly winds around the coffee table, champagne glass in hand, and leans close to give me a tight squeeze. “It’s awesome to see you! I feel like I’ve really been out of touch with everyone lately. The spa is booked morning, noon, and night with back-to-back holiday appointments. It’s always madness this time of year. Have you been in the kitchen yet? Elora has gone all out with dinner. That sassy Brit is something else.”

“Not yet, but I can’t wait.”

She looks over at Aksel and smiles. “Hi, Aksel, it’s nice to have you here with us.”

“Good to see you, Lisetta.”

He looks over to where my brother is sitting and nods once, saying, “Evening, Bern.”

My brother replies, “Aksel.” His tone is all business, not a hint of friendliness to be found.

Damn, if Bern doesn’t thaw his frigid personality then it’s going to be a really long night.

Mikkel and Elora join the party, pulling us out of the awkward moment. Mikkel hands us two glasses of champagne. “I gambled on the drinks. You want something different, there’s a full bar in the kitchen. Here you go.”

I take the tall flute from him. “Thanks, Mikkel. Hey, where’s Vail and Alreck? I thought they’d be here already.”

“Yeah, they send their apologies but they’re not gonna make it. They were just about to leave Lofoten yesterday when a central pipe burst in Alreck’s rorbu. He called this afternoon to say that they’d make it up to all of us one weekend closer to Christmas. Maybe get together for drinks somewhere.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” I say. “But I know how much they love that place.”

“Yeah, they both enjoy the remoteness. Have you been up there before?”

“Not yet, but between the photos and what she’s told me, I feel like I have. Actually, it would be a fantastic girls’ weekend.”

Always the matchmaker, Mikkel grins deviously. “Yeah, or maybe you and Aksel should get the keys and go up alone one weekend.”

Aksel pulls me in close, his hand around my waist, and I notice Bern’s shoulders straighten. It’s painfully obvious that he’s unhappy as he grinds out to no one in particular, “Is there something I’m missing here?”

I stare into his eyes and ask cautiously, “What do you mean, Bern?”

“What I mean is, am I the only one here who seems to be in the dark about you having something going on with this guy who’s clearly too old for you? What the fuck, Ingvild?”

Aksel tenses but remains silent in an obvious attempt to keep the peace.

In a low voice, I reply, “Yes, we’re together, Bern. Is that what you needed? Clarification? There, now you have it.”

Aksel adds, “So long as we’re all coming clean tonight, Bern, you should also know that I’m the one who shot her that night, and before you lose your fucking mind, you need to know why.”

Lisetta gasps in shock as my champagne flute slips from my fingers, crashing down to the floor to land in a pile of shards. Horrified, I watch as Bern leaps up and thunders like a charging bull straight toward Aksel. The bloodlust on his face is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Elora’s terrified shriek sounds like it’s coming through a thick fog. Bern has nearly reached us when Aksel shoves hard against my shoulder, pushing me out of the way only seconds before Bern attacks. They both tumble backwards, crashing into the right side of the stone fireplace.

“Mikkel, do something!” I struggle to get upright, screaming blindly for the only person remotely capable of stopping them from tearing each other apart limb from limb. Bern is going all out and the scene is rapidly turning gruesome. His brutal punches have already drawn a lot of blood and somehow Aksel manages to shove him off, but Bern grabs his shirt collar, pulling him off balance and sending both men crashing down to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Elora’s once pristine living room has been turned into a mixed martial arts cage inside of two minutes. Aksel manages to get Bern pinned beneath him for a couple of seconds and with his hand closed around his throat, he drips fresh blood down onto his face, growling in disgust, “Now are you gonna fucking listen to me?”

Furious, Bern bucks him off, yelling, “Fuck you! You’re done, you sick fucking asshole!”

“Bern! No! Stop!” Lisetta pleads, her voice threaded with panic. He doesn’t seem to hear her at all, or if he does, he doesn’t care. Both men stagger up to their feet as Bern is poised to land a vicious roundhouse kick to the side of Aksel’s head.

“No!” I wail as the merciless strike sends him flying face first against a floor-to-ceiling wooden column. Thankfully his hands instinctively reach out to cushion the blow.

“Aksel!” I race over to him, desperate to stop Bern from getting to him again.

Mikkel leaps between them, and with both arms extended, he roars, “Enough with this bullshit! You’re acting like inmates. Hey, you wanna kill each other? Fine! Do it somewhere off my fucking property and definitely not in front of these ladies!”

He jabs a finger and continues to yell, “Bern, outside with me! Now! And brother, I’m not fucking around!”

Stunned, I watch as he half drags a still amped-up Bern by his upper arm over toward the glass door. He wrenches it open and they disappear onto the porch.

Bleeding from multiple cuts on his face and arms, Aksel mutters in disbelief, “Fuck, your brother can fight! Jesus Christ!” He’s trying in vain to stop the blood from going everywhere on their once-flawless floor.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry he did this to you!” I cry. “Here, let me help you … do you think anything might be broken?”

“No, I don’t, but he had every right after what I laid on him.”

Elora hands him a towel, saying in a shaky voice, “Here, Aksel. The restroom is just down the hall on the right.”

Taking the towel he presses it to his mangled face.

I’m shaking as he strides past me, disappearing down the hallway. Lisetta asks in a stunned whisper, “He shot you? And now you’re with him? I don’t understand. What the hell is going on with you, Ingvild?”

I’m on the verge of tears as I say, “I’m going to tell you everything, but I need Bern to hear it as well. All right?”

“If you say so.”

I glance over at the shadowed figures arguing on the porch. Mikkel is doing everything he can to reason with Bern, who’s prowling back and forth like a caged wolf. Bern points a finger in Mikkel’s face and shouts something at him. Oh God, why did I ever think my brother might understand and be rational? I’m furious, but mostly at Kjetil for getting this brutal ball rolling in the first place, for driving a wedge in our family. I walk over to the porch and open the door, cringing as the snowflakes and blustery air swirl around my face.

“Bern, come inside with me. There’s more you need to know and trust me, violence won’t help.”

His voice is hard and raw as he demands, “Talk, Ingvild.”

“No, not like this in the cold. Come inside and sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

He shoves past me, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. Turning around, arms spread wide, he shouts, “Well? What are you waiting for? The night’s already fucked beyond repair so why not give me some more details about your fucking abusive lover! Who, by the way, as long as there’s air in my lungs, will never—mark my words—ever join the Devil’s Wrath and so help me God, if he’s somehow patched in without my say so, then I’m done!” He glares at Mikkel. “I mean it.”

Mikkel stares long and hard at Bern as I let loose and scream, “Aksel isn’t the one to blame! It’s all on Kjetil and me! I tried to fix it and I just couldn’t. Oh God, Bern, I should have come to you first, I regret not coming to you ….” I can’t finish. The anger gives way to despair and I’m practically choking in an effort to hold back the sobs.

He looks confused and his stern features slowly begin to soften as he says, “Jesus, Ingvild, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Kjetil has a huge gambling problem, Bern. He owed a lot of money to very dangerous men and was about to be messed up, possibly killed, when he came to me, desperate for help. I went to their leader and he offered me a deal to clear Kjetil’s debt. He told me I had to break into Aksel’s home and steal an ancient Loki mask. I felt like I had no choice but to deliver what he wanted. And now things are worse, much worse. The man is insane and has already tried to have Aksel and me killed. I’m living nearly every waking moment scared out of my mind, not just for Kjetil’s safety now, but for Aksel’s and my own, so the last thing I need from you, Bern, is your hot temper, especially aimed at the one man who has been doing everything in his power to keep me safe from that evil psychopath!”

You could hear a pin drop in the room; the only sound is the crackling of logs. Finally he responds, “Who is this asshole and why is he still harassing you when you gave him what he wanted?”

From the shadowed corner of the room, Aksel answers for me, “He’s the leader of a group called the Norsemen. His name’s Lars and he’s obsessed with your sister. She’s blown him off at every turn but he sees her as some type of conquest.”

Bern frowns and shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s bullshit. What was Kjetil doing fucking around with a white supremacist group and how the hell didn’t I know anything about it?”

I walk over to him. “Bern, he told me that at first he didn’t know who he was dealing with. He used to play cards with just his friends, but he got bored and wanted to up his game so he began playing in tournaments held at two small private clubs in the city. Apparently he is quite good and at first was winning a lot of money. Then he couldn’t keep up and the loans came due. Both of the clubs he played at are operated by the Norsemen.”

He runs his hand along the back of his cropped blond hair. “I can’t believe this. I should’ve spent more time with him.” His eyes lock with mine. “Shit. Wait, where is he now?’

“At Dad’s. He knows there’s trouble and that he has to stay there.”

“Good, that’s good. Hold up, exactly how did Aksel wind up shooting you?”

I take his hand. “It was a mistake, a terrible accident, Bern. For all he knew, I might have had a gun on me during the break-in. It was the dead of night and he’d been fast asleep. He was just trying to stop me in order to get his property back. I’m not saying what he did was right, because it wasn’t, but it happened and I’ve moved past it and so should you. There are more important things to worry about, like staying alive, because Bern, this group is barbaric. Believe me, they thrive on cruelty and I assure you, they’re not going to disappear anytime soon.

***

I come forward to stand at Ingvild’s side. “He’s a dire threat to your family,” I warn.

Mikkel closes in, ready to hold Bern back as he rages, “You have no fucking right to involve your dumb ass in my family’s business! You’re way too old to be dating Ingvild, and the only reason you’re not lying face down in a pool of blood is I’m acting out of respect for Mikkel and his home. That’s no lie!”

Ingvild lets him have it, “Bern! How can you say that after everything I’ve told you?”

I’m just about to tell him that we need to step outside to either sort it out civilly or as a last resort pick up the fight where we left off when his mobile starts ringing. He shoves his hand roughly into his back pocket, whips it out, and stares at the screen. “God! Who the fuck keeps calling me nonstop?” he yells in annoyance. Then, “Jesus Christ!” He hits the screen and barks out, “What!”

Inside of ten seconds his face turns ghostly white and he begins to tremble so hard that Mikkel grabs the phone from him. Mikkel speaks low and fast, then listens to the caller’s response in dead silence.

Suddenly, as if he’s been struck by a jolt of electricity, Bern springs into action, bolting for the door, screaming over his shoulder, “Ingvild, get to Oslo University Hospital! It’s Kjetil!”

“What? Bern! Wait! Talk to me!”

He’s already disappeared down the front steps, shouting out, “No time!”

We race after him, Ingvild in a full sprint. She makes it to the truck first and is pulling frantically at the locked door. I hit the key fob and we jump in.

Right before I slam the door shut, Mikkel shoves both our coats across my lap, saying quickly, “He’s been attacked. The surgeon told me they’re doing everything they can to keep him alive. Move! We’ll be right behind you. Take it easy on these back roads; no need for more carnage tonight, brother.”

“Got it.”

I stare at Mikkel and can tell that we’re both thinking the same thing: this is it. That sick little psycho’s gonna pay for what he’s done. Big time.

I slam the door closed and throw the truck into reverse, turning around carefully before following behind Bern’s swiftly fading red taillights. I watch closely as he cuts a determined path through the pounding snow. Ingvild’s silent tears are like acid on my heart. I press the accelerator down harder and crank up Attika 7, silently hoping that Kjetil’s just like big brother—one hell of a fighter. That kid’s gonna need that fire to keep him going on that operating table tonight.

Chapter Fourteen

5:18 a.m.

Three Days Later

Oslo University Hospital

“Hey.”

The raspy, familiar voice doesn’t fit into my dream of trekking through the jungle. I snuggle deeper into the warmth and let the visions take over.

Again the male voice calls out, “Hey … Ingvild?”

My brain is jarred into consciousness and my eyes spring open.

“Kjetil?” I scramble out of the bedside chair, knocking my coat to the floor as I kneel and clasp my little brother’s hand. His eyes are bleary, but he’s awake.

A jumbled flurry of words tumble out of my mouth, “Oh Kjetil. Oh God, I love you so much. Please, be strong, Kjetil, you’ve come this far. Wait, are you in pain? Do you want me to call for the doctor?”

His grip tightens; his normally warm hand is cool and clammy as he tells me slowly, “No. Not yet. I must be pretty doped up because I’m not feeling much pain.”

I breathe deeply and decide to give him the facts—knowing he’d want them unfiltered. “Kjetil, you’ve had three separate surgeries—the first was to repair your ruptured spleen, the next was to set your broken legs, and the last was done by a maxillofacial surgeon to rebuild your shattered cheekbone. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a couple of days now.”

He looks upset and confused. “What day is it and where’s Bern and Dad?”

“It’s Tuesday morning and Dad’s right here in the hospital, just on a different floor. He went down to the cafeteria to eat. Bern is out in the hallway, fighting with the cops.”

“What?”

He looks confused and I quickly add, “It’s all right; you’re not in any trouble. They’re demanding details about the attack and the doctors are keeping your privacy a priority. The police have posted an officer outside your room, partly for your protection, but my guess is they’re hoping for immediate answers as soon as you’re able to talk.”

Shakily, I whisper the question I already know the answer to, “He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“No.”

I pull back, surprised. “No?”

“He watched while they all took turns beating me; he just watched and laughed.”

His eyes squeeze shut, like he’s trying to wipe away the hellish memory.

“Oh Kjetil …. Hey, please, look at me.”

Once his eyes are back on mine, I continue, “You know something? He failed—they all did—because here you are, my strong, brilliant brother. They couldn’t pull you down and now every member of the Devil’s Wrath is out for their blood—that is, if the police don’t get to them first. You were never supposed to make it, Kjetil. You were found in the snow by a farmer’s German shepherd in an isolated field two miles from Dad’s place. That dog’s relentless barking drew the owner over and he immediately put a coat over you and called for help. You wouldn’t have survived the night out there.”

“Holy shit.”

“You don’t remember that part?”

He stares past me, out the window at the bleak winter sky and begins, “I remember up until the point I started blacking out. Then things become really sketchy.”

The door opens and we both look up. Bern is frozen in place, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, eyes glued to Kjetil’s as he says tenderly, “Welcome back.”

“Yeah. Good to be back.”

He moves slowly as he makes his way to the foot of Kjetil’s bed. That’s when the tears begin to fall, stunning us both because we’ve never seen Bern cry.

He swipes at his face several times before clearing his throat to say, “Love you, Kjetil. Don’t know what I would’ve done … yeah, anyhow, fuck. Just love you.”

“Me too, Bern. And I’m so sorry I’ve caused all this. I wish I could go back and fix it; I almost got Ingvild and me killed. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s done and forgotten. You don’t need to feel bad or sorry for anything. All you need to do is think about your future, which is gonna be amazing and that’s a promise. You hear me, Kjetil?”

Before he can answer, the doctor steps in, the police right on his heels. “We thought we heard voices. Looks like someone is coming around from the sedatives. This is excellent progress. We’d hoped today would be the day, Kjetil.”

He turns to the detective and uniformed officer and says sternly, “I need ten minutes with my patient to assess whether or not he’s up to answering your questions right now. So please, if you don’t mind, step back outside.”

Reluctantly they move back out into the hallway and he closes the door.

Before he has a chance to turn around, Kjetil says in a nervous voice, “Tell me I’m gonna walk again.”

Oh God ….

I stare at Bern. We’re both holding our breath as the doctor turns and straightens his glasses to tell him the stark truth. “It’s very promising; however, your physical therapy will require tremendous effort on your part. Otherwise the extensive damage done to your legs, especially the right one, will inevitably lead to the use of a walker. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Right now we are monitoring you closely for any signs of infection. Do you mind if I take a look at your wounds?”

“All right.”

Bern and I do our best to hold it together as the large piece of gauze is gently lifted away from the right side of Kjetil’s face, revealing a deep purple mass covered with tidy black stitches. I can feel my face break out in a cold sweat, realizing that he’ll be scarred for life.

“Do you know what was used to do this?”

“Yeah, a steel-toed boot. One of them stomped on my face, think they were aiming for my nose and mouth, but I turned away at the last second. That’s when I felt my face crack ….”

It’s too much for Bern, who rushes from the room. I’m torn between going after him and staying with Kjetil. But I can’t leave. I hold onto his hand with unwavering firmness, knowing who needs me more right now.

The doctor does his best to look unaffected by the grisly story, but I can tell by the way he’s standing frozen as a statue that he can hardly comprehend such brutality. He continues to gently examine all the damage and I pay close attention, making mental notes of what Kjetil will need and when. The doctor finishes looking at the wounds and begins to speak to us about the types of medication they currently have him on.

My thoughts inevitably drift to Aksel. He’s only a few blocks away, working furiously to meet his most pressing deadlines. The urge to go to him is weighing on my heart. He’s spent every free minute here with us, encouraging Kjetil, even reading to him when we both knew there was little chance he could hear him. The numerous times he stepped out of the room to take calls from Mikkel have me worried. I know that the members of the club are immune to nearly any threat that comes their way, but what if Lars’ men go after them one by one—like what happened with Ragnar or my brother—what then? Kjetil barely survived, and it’s a guarantee that the Norsemen wouldn’t make that mistake again. The dread is pulling me down into an abyss of uncertainty and all that’s saving me are my feelings for him and love for my family—that, and the burning desire to see justice come down on that monster.

After making a few notes, the doctor tells us, “It’s a long road ahead, Kjetil, but if you take excellent care of yourself, I believe we can get you very close to where you were before the attack. You’re young and healthy; that weighs heavily in your favor. You had the best of the best working to save you on Saturday night; you’re a lucky young man. There is a nurse assigned to you today. I’ll send her in to see you in just a moment. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“When can I get out of here?”

“Assuming there are no complications, three to five weeks. But your legs will need far longer to recover. You’ll be in a wheelchair until you’re ready to begin physical therapy.”

“Damn.”

“Now, are you comfortable with answering a few questions from the police? They have been waiting patiently to speak with you.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them everything I remember.”

“Very well.”

He turns and heads out the door and I rush to whisper to my brother, “Bern will make them pay, Kjetil. You’ll walk out of this hospital without ever having to look over your shoulder. I promise.”

His eyes are tormented and I can’t help but cringe at how much older he looks. “I hope you’re right,” he says.

Chapter Fifteen

Thursday

8:40 p.m.

Oslo

“That’s it … ease back against me. There’s my good girl.”

I work my fingers against her slick skin to release the knots of tension in the muscles between her shoulders and neck. The past several days have been hell on earth for her and tonight is the first time since the attack that we’ve had quality alone time together.

“God, yes. That feels so perfect, Aksel.”

The gurgling water is swirling around us, creating a perfect escape, and I can’t resist lapping at the beads of water on her shoulder that have leapt up from the gurgling Jacuzzi tub.

“Mmm, you know, the next time Kjetil and I move, I’m definitely putting a large bathtub on our apartment upgrade list. This is amazing.”

She snuggles further into my heat and I lean forward a few inches to whisper quietly into her left ear, “No, my princess, there won’t be any need for that.”

She’s utterly relaxed as I continue to work my way down the front of her chest, massaging her into a blissful state.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

I smile and glide my hands lower, massaging her breasts before rolling each pink-tipped nipple between my fingers.

Her breathing is changing, becoming more rapid and uneven as I reply, “You know what I mean, little one.”

She goes completely still and asks, “Are you … are you asking me to live with you, Sir?”

“I’m not asking, Ingvild. I love you—you must know that by now—and if we’re going farther down this path together, which is what I sincerely hope you want, then I’m telling you that we will live together, starting today. I don’t want you to worry about money or bills ever again, and more than that, I require access to you at all times—not just when we can work each other into our demanding schedules. Does this make sense?”

She twists all the way around so that her wet body is pressing fully against the front of mine. Her eyes are filled with an emotion I haven’t seen before as she asks, “You love me?”

“Of course, I love you, for some time now. How could I not? Ingvild, you’ve brought this gorgeous fucking radiant light into my life, making me realize what’s really important. I understand that it’s been chaos since we’ve met but within that crazy mess, I’ve never felt so alive. You’re the reason, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that selfless gift you’ve given me.”

Her lips are trembling and she looks like she’s about to lose it.

I squeeze her tightly in my arms. “Hey, shh, baby, it’s all right. I’ve got you.”

“I love you, Aksel. I’ve never known what love was until it happened between us. It’s like I’m filled with this feeling, this beautiful force that makes me a stronger person. You’ve taught me that and so much more.”

Her lips meet mine and the kiss is incendiary, casting us both into a tailspin of near violent lust. I cup her cheeks and pull her in deeper, making her feel how much I crave her. Our tongues are sparring and she moans desperately into my mouth. Digging my fingers into the damp hair piled on top of her head, I pull back and tell her, “Ride me. Lift your knees up and slide down onto my cock.”

She blushes and tries to look away but I beat her to it, tightening my fingers until she feels a twinge of pain. “Sub, when I give an order, you are to follow it immediately.”

“Y-yes of course, Sir, I just … your words, the way you said it was … it just caught me off guard, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve earned a spanking, but that will come later, because I’m not in the mood to wait for that sweet little pussy. Now, for the second time, climb up and ride your Sir.”

I pull her face closer and slide my tongue playfully along her bottom lip, causing her to sigh in need. She wastes no time, inching forward, legs wide. The flush of nervous excitement has spread from her cheeks down along her chest, and I can’t help but think that she looks like some mythical siren.

She’s poised at the very tip and I could easily take her by the hips and ram her down, but that’s not on my agenda. No, I want to give her a small sense of control, just for her.

“Lower yourself down,” I rasp.

Her tight sex begins slipping around me and my eyes squeeze shut; the sensation is unbelievable.

“Ah! Oh, yeah ….”

Her cries ring out through the steam-filled room and I have to mentally count backwards from a hundred not to cum.

“That’s right … take it all. Jesus, you’re so damn tight and perfect around me ….”

She stares down between us, a gorgeous look of determination on her delicate features. I nearly lose my mind as she begins a slow grind, rising up and back down like her body was made to do it.

My head falls back against the tub as I moan, “Ingvild, oh God, you’re killing me.”

That was the confidence booster she needed because one little hand moves from my shoulder down to the center of my chest. With better leverage she begins thrusting harder, gaining momentum as her lithe body strains to reach its peak.

Time to test the limits of my greedy little sub. After all, I’m a Dom who demands variety.

I look up at her and reach out to grasp her hips tight enough to keep her completely still.

She’s panting, her expression confused, “But …what?”

No, no pet. It’s not all about what you want at the moment; it’s what your Sir desires for you. Always.

“Lock your arms around my neck, princess.”

She hesitates, wanting to stay exactly where she is with my stone-hard cock buried deep inside her.

I reach down into the soapy water and pinch her clit, not brutally but hard enough to let her know I mean business.

“Eeee … ow … Aksel!”

Her shriek causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand at attention. She flings her soapy arms around my neck, panting from the stinging pain. I open my fingers and she pitches forward, gasping against my neck as I whisper against her hair, “Over time, you’ll learn to follow instructions and more importantly, to trust me. I love that defiant little streak you have, but I’m going to channel it, to tame it to suit me. And it seems that you forgot the proper term of respect when we’re alone: it’s ‘Sir,’ in case you need a refresher course. Are we clear with each other?”

She lifts her head and looks into my eyes, replying softly, “We’re clear, Sir. Sorry.”

“Excellent.”

I grab hold of her slick ass and slowly begin to lift us both up and out of the deep tub. We’re still joined together as I walk us toward the bed. Aside from a high, frosted-glass privacy wall that sections off the bathing area, my city loft is one big cavernous space. It’s only fifteen steps to the bed and the moment my shins nudge the duvet, I brace her tighter and gently lower us down.

Her eyes are questioning but she stays quiet and still, a slight, devious smile on her glossy lips.

My naughty girl. All. Fucking. Mine.

The Dominant inside me is roaring, making my body feel like it’s humming with a high voltage current. She alone—no one else has ever come close to doing this to me.

I take my time, slowly kissing every part of her glowing face. Her arms have wandered down my sides and I can’t hold back a groan of pleasure from the sensual trail her fingers leave in their wake.

Hovering above her, I say quietly, “I’m so damn indebted to whatever it was that brought us together. You own my heart, Ingvild. It’s yours—all for you until the end of time.”

Her lips press into mine for a deliciously languid moment. She pulls back to whisper, “I feel the exact same way, Sir. I loved you long before I was ever brave enough to tell you.”

“Mmm, Nothing will ever drive us apart. I promise that I’m going to spend a lifetime showing you new experiences … beginning right now.”

I pull back slowly, only to come right back with a firm, deep pump of my hips that causes her to gasp.

“That’s right, baby, feel me love you. Take what I’m giving you and just feel …. Let it all go for me tonight.”

I hike her warm legs high so they’re both resting in the crook of my elbows and start up a wicked driving rhythm. Fuck, it’s a good thing the music is cranking because anyone on the floors above and below us might phone the police from her sexy, piercing cries.

I’m vaguely aware of my own animalistic grunts as I fuck her into oblivion, forcing her to take me as deeply as she can.

“Not yet,” I grit through my teeth.

A frantic whine is her only reply.

I slam into her four more times and then pull all the way out.

Her eyes fly open, and before she can utter a word of protest, I growl, “Flip over.”

A look of pure hedonism flares in her eyes seconds before she flips onto her stomach.

“Ass up, legs out as far as they’ll go.”

I crawl over to the bedside table and reach for the bottle of lube, thinking, Oh fuck yeah, we’re going farther down our dark path of exploration together tonight, little one.

Moving into position behind her, I can see that she’s trembling lightly.

“Shh, little sub, you know I’d never harm you.”

I lightly sweep my thumb against her pink little backside hole, asking softly, “Are you curious about being taken here for the first time, baby?”

She’s embarrassed, burying her flaming face in the duvet and refusing to answer me.

I finish putting a liberal coat of the clear gel on my cock and sigh, “There is no need to feel shame, especially with me, Ingvild. I’d like an answer please.”

She twists around and whispers, “I want it, Sir … I want you to take my ass. I’ve fantasized about it since meeting you. There, now you know.”

I blink hard, stunned by her confession.

“Jesus, Ingvild, you never cease to surprise me, baby. Relax, I’m going to make this so incredible for you.”

I shift closer on my knees and using one hand, I reach around her thigh and begin a teasing massage on her eager clit. My right hand grips my straining cock as my hips move forward at a leisurely pace. Time slows to a crawl as the tip brushes against the entrance. She wiggles back against me, silently pleading for more. I rub her clit faster, forcing her to cry out as I press into her. She gasps as the head pushes inside. Immediately I slow down, giving her time to adjust to the foreign sensation.

“You feel so perfect, Ingvild.”

“More please, Sir ….”

“Mmm, so hungry … all right princess, here we go.”

I shift my hips forward, slowly giving her what she wants until her petite body is unable to take anymore. I hold myself very still, praising her, “I wish I could describe to you how fantastic your body feels like this. Are you ready for me to fuck you now, sweetheart?”

She tries to bear down harder on my relentless fingers still working swiftly against her clit.

Her voice is guttural, nearly animalistic as she wails, “God yes! Do it!”

“Take your hand, reach back and finger yourself, angel. I’m going to need both hands planted on your ass to keep myself in check. Can you do that for me?”

“Mmm hmm .…yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

I grab her hips, take a deep breath and pull back. Then I begin an even, steady, pumping rhythm that forces groans of pleasure from us both.

My brain is on overload, and the Dom inside me practically growls, Fuck her into the damn mattress … give it to her how you know she needs it, raw and unrestrained!

Something primitive snaps inside me and one hand reaches up between her shoulder blades to shove her down into the white comforter as I thrust harder, forcing myself into her pliant flesh.

My voice is a deep rasp as I command, “Come on, baby, give it up to me. I want that gorgeous orgasm and I’m gonna get it from you right now! Show me how much you love your sexy ass filled with my cock!”

She screams and her back arches, exposing her neck as her over-stimulated body clenches in a series of tight contractions that are my undoing.

“Holy fuck … ah fuck … Ingvild! That’s it, baby!”

My orgasm rips through my body, following directly on the heels of hers. Our moans of pure ecstasy echo through the loft as I pitch forward, my sweating body covering hers completely. If I die right now, I die happy. I want to go just like this. Fuck yes.

Not wanting to crush her, I gently pull away, flip her onto her back, and hover over her. We stare at each other and the words of adoration tumble out of my mouth, “You’re an angel to me. You really are. I never imagined someone as beautiful as you could exist. And shit, I definitely never dreamed I’d be so lucky to have her as my very own sub. I’ll make you happy, Ingvild—that’s a promise.”

Her hand touches the side of my face. “I know, Aksel. I can see it in the way you treat not just me but my loved ones.”

“You deserve that and so much more. Always.”

I kiss her cheek and glance at my watch. “Shit, it’s getting late. Wanna get dressed and head out to grab some dinner? You must be starving, and I’m afraid I haven’t been to the store lately.”

She giggles. “Yes, I am starving. You have this way of turning me into a voracious beast, Sir.”

“I like that princess, and we both know what a wild streak you have inside of you.”

She nods eagerly. “You’re right. And I couldn’t imagine being obedient to anyone but you.”

“There’s no need, because you never will.”

We are lost in each other’s eyes for a long moment before the connection is broken by the shrill, electronic ring of my mobile.

“Damn.” I crawl across the bed, reaching for it, when she asks curiously, “Mikkel?”

I blink twice and murmur, perplexed, “No, Bern.” I hit the accept button.

I trudge along the freshly salted city sidewalk, hands shoved deep inside my coat pockets while I listen to the strains of Massive Attack through my earbuds. Bern’s tone was unreadable on the call last night; he only said that I needed to meet him at Heavy’s Customs at seven o’clock this morning, that he wanted to ask me something very important. Of course I agreed. I’m hoping this might be the start of rebuilding the destroyed bridge between us. I’m so fucking far behind on my orders that even if I work two eighteen-hour days, I won’t be able to make my deliveries on time. I’ve never missed a delivery. Shit. I’ll find a way ….

I round the corner and see that the normally lit neon green sign is still off. I chalk it up to the fact that Bern doesn’t want anyone walking in on us during our early morning conversation. According to Mikkel, Lars and his men have gone dark. Apparently the asshole isn’t as stupid as his sloppy acts of violence seem to indicate. No matter, he’ll be caught and made to pay. I don’t like leaving Ingvild alone with that maniac on the loose, but she promised to stay put until I get back.

We swung by the hospital late last night to visit Kjetil. The guy seems more and more lucid with each passing day. He’s gonna make it and I have little doubt that he’ll be walking just fine come spring.

I stop outside the shop to collect myself for a second before dragging in a deep breath and pulling open the unlocked door.

The space is dark, but I swear I can hear movement from deep inside. I call out, “Bern? Mikkel?”

“Back here!” Bern shouts from the work area. I cross through the office and slowly push the interior door the rest of the way open. The fluorescent lights are glowing brightly and my shoulders lock in place at the sight before me. Bern’s wearing a welder’s mask, arms outstretched. One hand grips a lit blowtorch—the other, my mask.

The glass visor is raised and he eyes me suspiciously. “Yeah, that’s the look I thought you’d have. Now, all bullshit aside, it’s time to choose—my sister or this. He shakes his left hand, causing the mask to twist in his grasp as he continues his angry rant, “Now we’re gonna see where your so-called loyalty really lies.”

What. The. Hell?

I hold my arms out, palms flat in a non-threatening gesture as I take two steps closer, speaking carefully. “Whoa, easy Bern. You don’t want to do that. What you’re holding is part of history.”

“Don’t take another step.” He knocks the glass visor down into place with his forearm and brings the torch perilously close to the base of the piece.

I can hardly understand him as his muffled shouts echo through the garage, “Your call. Her or this!”

My arms drop to my side and my fists clench and unclench. The rage is palpable as it tears through me. The feeling of helplessness is nearly crippling and I fucking hate every second of it.

Time seems to grind to a halt. The continuous flickering of the orange-red flame is surreal. Finally I speak, telling him furiously, “Go ahead, melt it, you crazy asshole! Leave it in a fucking puddle on the floor if that’s what it takes, because you want to know something? Yeah, I care deeply about that mask, but it’s the past and your sister is my future—something that what your holding can never be. My love for Ingvild doesn’t even come close to my feeling for that object you’re holding, so do what you gotta do with your warped test. Just know that nothing short of you putting several bullets in my skull will ever, and I mean ever, drive Ingvild and me apart!”

His arms are shaking and with his face hidden by the welding mask, his head turns and the flame is slowly brought up to the base of the mask, the fire making the image of Loki appear foreboding and alive. I can feel beads of sweat break out on my face and neck as fat plops of gold begin to drop straight down to the concrete floor. I’m watching him destroy it ….

Suddenly a voice roars from behind me, “No, Bern! Stop right now!”

Mikkel.

Mikkel’s shouts do nothing to faze him; he keeps the torch directly beneath the object. Then Mikkel launches himself across the room, knocking the mask away, enraged by Bern’s open defiance.

He shoves him hard in the chest, causing him to stagger back, nearly dropping the torch as he shouts, “This is not your call and you know it! You don’t keep things like this from me in our club, ever! You want that bullshit, you walk out the door right now and go start your own MC! Jesus Christ, Bern! Lose the fucking helmet and shut off that Goddamn torch so I can talk to you man to man!”

At Mikkel’s incensed words, Bern seems to snap out of his trance. He slowly twists the knob to turn off the flame. Setting it down, he removes the helmet, looking tormented as he begins to tell Mikkel in a halting voice, “Went to their club last night … was gonna take Lars out, no matter the cost. It was deserted, but I broke in anyway. Saw a steel safe, wanted to get a bit of revenge so I headed back to the shop and returned an hour later with a torch and a bunch of tools. That mask, a load of Nazi crap, and a wad of cash were all that was inside. Looks like they didn’t have time to clear their shit out before they heard they were wanted by the police. I had to know, Mikkel.”

“Know? Know what? What the fuck are you talking about Bern?”

“I had to know that he wasn’t just using Ingvild! You know, fucking her for her looks, taking advantage of her because she’s inexperienced.”

“Fuck you, Bern!” I spit out at him. “I love her and you know it!”

Mikkel acts as referee, raising a hand to silence me.

Bern goes on, “I gave him an ultimatum so I’d know the truth.”

Mikkel pulls back, now understanding. “And?”

“He proved his loyalty is with my sister.”

“Jesus, Bern, I love you like a little brother, always will, but you have a very warped set of morals.”

Mikkel surprises everyone by pulling him in for a hug. He holds onto him for a long time before saying loud enough for me to hear, “It’s completely over now. I just had coffee this morning with Mr. Bjerke. He asked me to meet with him, knowing that you and I worked together, Bern. He wanted me to send you his condolences for Kjetil’s attack. He also confided in me that he turned his son over to the police last night.”

Shocked, I rush over and grip Mikkel’s forearm, pulling him back to face me. I ask slowly, “What did you just say?”

He stares into my stern face and continues angrily, “That evil fucker is behind bars as we speak. Bad news is they’re still searching for two of his men. Remember I told you how Mr. Bjerke said he’d made himself a promise that he’d wash his hands of him the next time something violent happened?”

I nod as he goes on, “Well, what happened with Kjetil was unfathomable to him. He knew from a voicemail that Lars was involved and was hiding out at his vacation home in Bergen, so he phoned the police and that’s where they found Lars and took him into custody. He’s due to be transported back to Oslo sometime today. That’s all I know, but more details are bound to hit the news media soon.”

Without warning, Bern pivots around and smashes his fist into one of the metal bay doors, causing a deep dent in the thing. “Fuck!” he screams. “Goddamn it to hell! Wanted to wreck that motherfucker!”

Mikkel steps forward but I grab his arm. When he looks back, I shake my head back and forth. “Let him have his anger. He needs it to cope, Mikkel. Give him that.”

Bern is shaking hard, hanging his head, and both his palms are flat against the marred steel. The sounds he’s making are those of a tortured man who feels like he let down his family in the face of adversity. Hopefully in time he’ll realize that this is the best possible outcome—anything else might have led to incalculable, endless violence. No, the news that the leader of the Norsemen is in custody and headed for trial is a victory for us. I’m confident they’ll interrogate him on the whereabouts of the missing members, the ones who beat Kjetil, and even if he stays tightlipped, the cops will find them—that is, unless they flee the country. I can feel the heavy burden slip from my body. We can finally begin putting this waking nightmare behind us. She’s safe now. There’s nothing and no one to stand in the way of our future together. With that thought, I stride over, bend down to pick up the Loki mask, not caring that the bottom third of it is lying in a shimmering puddle on the floor.

I clap Mikkel on the shoulder and tell him, “Catch you later, man.”

He sounds exhausted telling me, “All right, Aksel. Later, brother.”

Pushing open the door, I notice the rays of morning sunshine break through the heavy gray snow clouds that have dominated the sky these past couple of days. I can’t help but think that it’s fitting. I up my pace, eager to tell Ingvild everything, to let her know she doesn’t have to worry ever again.

Chapter Sixteen

June

Oslo

I bind my arms tight around his leather as he guns the engine to take the steep incline up to the club. He eases into a spot close to the steps and I watch Elora slide gracefully off the back of Mikkel’s silver and emerald-green chopper. We’re finally making up for our interrupted couples’ dinner, and this time around laughter has replaced fighting. Aksel shuts the bike down and pulls his mirrored full-face helmet off, asking, “Sure you’re not embarrassed riding around with me on this old Harley, baby?”

I lift my helmet off and tell him, “I love this bike; you know that. It’s full of character, just like it’s addictive owner.”

He chuckles low as I hop off. Dismounting, he looks around at the selection of gleaming custom rides.

“Yeah, but I’m thinking we might need to upgrade, princess. Would you be up for a design session with Mikkel? That way we could come up with something that will really get your blood racing.”

I grasp the front of his leather and pull him close to whisper playfully against his stubbled face, “There is nothing on this earth—not a gorgeous bike, not a piece of art, not one thing—that could set me ablaze the way you do … with just a look. So, no, I don’t think you need to upgrade your bike.”

He laughs and slings a long arm around my bare shoulders. “C’mon, it was just a thought. Let’s head inside.”

I kiss his fingers that are draped casually near my face and reply, “Yes, we don’t want you to be late for your patch party.”

He looks a bit embarrassed as we head up the steps. “Wish it was more of a low-key event. You know how I feel about being in the spotlight.”

“I know, Aksel, but just try and enjoy it. It only happens once, and from what I understand, it’s a big deal within the club. You’ll relax after a few drinks; besides, being a full member has to feel a lot better than ‘prospect status.’ Everyone is excited to celebrate with you tonight. Mikkel even booked a metal band all the way from Prague.”

“You’re right. I’ve been looking forward to tonight. Dinner earlier was outstanding and here we are, ready to party.”

Mikkel is propping the door open with his boot as we hit the top step. He holds out his hand to Aksel and in his gravelly voice tells him, “Rode alongside you on the way here, brother. Gotta say, you wear that brand new club patch with pride.”

“Thanks, man. It’s an honor.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s you. Enough with the sentimental bullshit, we’ve got some serious throwing down to attend to tonight. You game?”

“Shit yeah. Bring it on.”

The band is busy setting up on stage and we’ve just made it to the bar when Kjetil comes out of the back carrying a case of booze.

He places it on the bar and calls out, “Hey, Sis. What’s up, Aksel?”

I ask, concerned, “Kjetil, you should let Alreck carry that. I know you’re his new bar back but do you think it’s a good idea to carry heavy things?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He comes out from around the bar to where we’re now seated. The limp in his right leg is still noticeable but is definitely improving with each week of therapy. Bern has been an angel, making sure that he doesn’t miss a single appointment, even staying with him as encouragement. When he’s not staying with Bern and Lisetta, he’s out at Dad’s place. Mikkel has given him a full-time job helping out at Heavy’s. For now he’s a glorified errand guy, but he’s eager to learn the craft and Mikkel has gushed that he’s mechanically inclined and a quick learner.

Kjetil gives a lopsided grin, saying, “Congratulations, Aksel. Full-patch status. That’s impressive.”

Aksel shakes Kjetil’s outstretched hand and says appreciatively, “Thanks, man. So, what’s the latest with you? It’s been a few weeks.”

Still self-conscious, my brother absentmindedly touches the long scar that marks his once flawless cheek.

I act like I don’t notice, knowing how shy he is as he answers, “Same old, still saving up for a ride. Hoping to have the money I need by winter. Then my goal is to keep it at Mikkel’s and work on it after hours.”

“That right?”

“Yup.”

I watch curiously as Aksel reached into his front jeans pocket to pull out a silver cable ring with a lone key twisting from it.

Looking my brother straight in the eyes, he says, “I don’t see any reason why you should wait that long. Here you go, and before you lose your mind, know that it needs a hell of a lot of work. That said, it’s a solid ride, a café racing bike. It has the potential to be one sweet ride if you put the sweat and time into it.”

My brother stares in open-mouthed shock, unable to move as I ask in disbelief, “Y-you’re seriously giving him your project bike? Aksel ….”

I throw my arms around his neck and shower him with kisses.

He looks past me, asking Kjetil, “Well, you gonna take the key, or am I gonna stand here looking like an idiot until my arm goes numb?”

I let go and watch as Kjetil’s trembling hand closes around the key, his voice filled with gratitude, telling him, “That’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” he says. “Thank you, Aksel.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve arranged for it to be towed on a wrecker from my home this Tuesday. Mikkel is down with you keeping it in a spare bay at the shop—as long as you don’t let it interfere with your work. You know how tight he runs his business.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Of course. Hell, I-I’m speechless, actually.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Hey, looks like Alreck need you.”

He glances back. “Oh, shit. I have to go, but we’ll catch up later tonight. And thanks again!”

He disappears through the doors and down the stairs as I say tenderly, “And that is why I love you so much. With one selfless gesture, you gave him happiness and hope. You never cease to amaze, my thoughtful man.”

He squeezes me against his side and drops a kiss on top of my hair, telling me, “No, princess, you have that backwards, and don’t even think of arguing with your Sir, ’cause you know what happens to naughty girls ….”

My cheeks flush, and he correctly reads the, Oh, do I ever look in my eyes.

Lisetta rushes up to us, scolding playfully, “Are you two going to spend all night staring at each other like Romeo and Juliet? I mean seriously, it’s been … what, six months already. You must know every pore on each other’s faces by now! Come on, I need you both for doubles pool. We’re racked and ready. Don’t worry about drinks. We’ll make a run for shots after we break. Follow me.”

He looks down at me as I drag him along. “Jesus, she’s a fiery one.”

“Oh yes, and that’s why she’s a perfect match for Bern. I can’t believe their wedding is next month.”

Lisetta is picking out pool cues for us as we step up onto the platform. Bern says, “Ready to lose?”

Aksel fights a grin. “Speak for yourself, jackass. You’re the sucker who’ll be going down.”

My brother laughs. “We’ll see if you’ve got what it takes to back up your bullshit.”

I roll my eyes at their banter. After the heated argument at Mikkel’s, my brother seems to have turned a corner—who knows why. Maybe it was Lisetta, or maybe he figured out that staying angry at Aksel didn’t do anything but cause problems for the family. Whatever the reason, about a month after he flipped out, he asked Aksel to join him for a beer, which turned into countless pints. Ever since then, it’s as if there’s never been tension between them.

Bern makes the break and comes to stand beside Aksel. His tone is all business as he asks, “You planning on going to the trial? They set the date for August fifth.”

“I’m planning on it. Might not get in though, seeing as I’m not family.”

Bern stares down at the felt-topped table. “Not on paper.”

Aksel looks at him but stays silent.

“Kjetil’s taking the stand.”

Aksel nods slowly. “I’d heard from Ingvild.”

“They’d better give him a long stretch or I’ll make him wish they had.”

“You have to prepare yourself for anything, Bern. He could get a soft judge or his attorney might have found something we don’t know about, something that could flip the case. Remember, Lars never laid a hand on Kjetil.”

My eyes widen as Bern strangles the cue. “He ordered it and he was there. That’s enough. That and Kjetil’s statement. And you can bet the men they now have in custody will be eager to spill who ordered it. The cops are good at turning criminals against one another. They’ll nail him; I’m confident.”

“We’re all hopeful.”

As if as an afterthought, Bern murmurs, “Doesn’t really matter, because he’ll never walk free on the streets of Norway again. That’s a fact.”

Lisetta calls out from the opposite side of the table, “Ingvild, you’re up.”

I position and take the shot, missing horribly because I’m far too distracted. I stand and lift my eyes to Aksel’s as he passes behind me. In a reassuring voice, he says softly, “He’ll get what’s coming to him. There are a lot of people determined to make certain of it.”

I trust him. I have to because he’s kept us alive.

Bern does his best to break the serious mood by slapping Aksel’s new patch, joking, “Thought you were too much of a pretty boy to pull off that horned demon, my man. Actually looks rather fierce on you, brother.”

Aksel downs the liquor that Bern hands him, saying slyly, “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Bern leans low, perfectly nailing a combo shot, then glances back at Aksel, telling him, “Do.”

Epilogue

Two Weeks Later

The growling cycle eases to a rolling stop on the shoulder of the mountainous road. The engine is still vibrating hard between my legs as I pull off my helmet to get a prime view of the majestic fjord nestled in the valley off to our right. Aksel is busy looking down at directions on his mobile when I ask him nervously, “Do you think we’ll make the ferry? Didn’t you say the last one to the Lofoten Islands leaves at six p.m.?”

“Easy, princess, I’ve got it covered. Behave and slide your helmet back on. We’re not far.”

I wonder why he’s not nearly as concerned as I am about the possibility of sleeping in the woods tonight, which is what will likely happen if we miss that boat to Alreck’s remote rorbu.

I check the strap on my helmet and snuggle against his back. He glances over his left shoulder, asking, “You good?”

“Yes, ready.”

His pulls us back out onto the winding mountain pass and I rest the side of my helmet against the center of his patch, drinking in the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine as it kisses the exposed areas of my body. With classes over and Aksel finally caught up with his orders, we’re able to sneak out of town for a long overdue getaway. The last time I visited the Lofoten Island chain was when I was a small child, so all I recall are flashes of tall peaks that reach into the clouds and bright red roofs on the small structures. I also fondly remember being so excited when we took a boat out to see the whales. I smile at the thought that I’ll be creating new memories there with Aksel. Vail showed me a virtual slideshow of recent pictures of the waterfront rorbu, Alreck’s childhood home. It looks like something out of a fairytale. I’m pulled away from my daydream as the cycle slows to a crawl, taking a sharp right off the highway onto a narrow dirt road.

Could the route to the ferry really be this rural? We’re heading deeper into the dense forest and I’m becoming more curious with each passing second.

Aksel is unfazed, clearly confident in the route he’s taking. Several minutes pass and the bike stops right before a grassy area where the tree line abruptly ends.

His hand reaches back to squeeze my thigh and he pulls off his helmet. I remove mine too and slide off the bike, stretching like a cat after the arduous ride.

He dismounts and turns to me. I wait patiently, eager to know why we’re here.

He places his helmet down then takes mine out of my hands and does the same. He seems calm and relaxed as he reaches for my hand, telling me softly, “Come.”

We walk to the edge of the cliff and my jaw drops open. Several hundred meters below us lies the pristine, sapphire-blue water of the mammoth fjord.

“It’s Tysfjorden,” Aksel says appreciatively.

“It’s incredible. You know, no matter how many times I’ve seen these fjords, they still leave me breathless. I don’t think there’ll ever be adequate words to capture their awe-inspiring beauty. It’s powerful to see them like this, out here on our own, not on a tour boat jammed with people. ”

“Mmm, you’re right there.”

“So?”

“Yes?”

“Are we supposed to swim to the Lofoten Islands, or maybe abseil down to wait for a passing ferry?”

He takes hold of my shoulders, spinning me around to face him. His lips are hot as they meet mine, his kiss possessive and unyielding. I whimper, following his lead as our tongues spar with increasing urgency.

The slow burn of desire has been triggered deep within me when he pulls away. Head tilted, he watches me closely before responding, “You’ll pay up for that sassy comment, my insolent princess, but first I’m going to put you to the test.”

I sputter, “What? I was just kidding! You have to know that. Right?’

“You were disrespectful, sweetheart, and we both know it. But punishment will have to wait because we need to begin setting up camp.”

His eyes are shining as he observes my reaction.

“Camp? We’re spending the night out here?”

“That’s right. Wanted to make the most of our adventure north and besides, I’ve always wanted to sleep beneath the stars with a woman. I was merely biding my time to cross paths with the right girl for the adventure.”

“I was wondering why you strapped the sleeping bags to the bike. I thought it was just a precaution, in case we broke down. Now I see it was all part of your nefarious plan.”

Grinning deviously, he crosses his arms and says, “Oh, you’ve got that right, Ingvild, and that sinful plan is highly detailed, baby. Now move your sexy ass and gather some kindling while I set up camp.”

Alone, out in the wild with him … the infinite possibilities of what he’ll do to me tonight make every cell throb for his masterful touch.

He’s staring patiently across at me as my fingers stray up to play across my custom-made platinum collar—his own original design.

My voice, laced heavily with lust, is nearly unrecognizable to my own ears as I reply, “Of course, Sir.”

***

I shift my stance in a hopeless attempt to ease the relentless throbbing of my greedy cock. It still puzzles me how after all our time together she still has this powerful effect on me. Who the fuck cares? She’s all mine and this weekend is going to be unforgettable. I watch her bend to pick up dry sticks and think back on the time Mikkel told me about this hidden gem of a spot, suggesting that we might want to stop here for a break. Oh yeah. I decided a nice, long, very wicked overnight visit would be at the top of our agenda. I’ve neglected to mention the fact that we already have pre-purchased seats on the ferry that leaves tomorrow morning at nine a.m. I know how spontaneity drives her wild. The uncertainty, the possibility of danger amps her up to shocking levels. Tonight we’re roughing it, and my body is more than primed for intense play.

I get busy collecting large rocks to surround the area where we’ll have our fire. She’s made a sizeable pile of branches and sticks, so I call out, “That should be enough. Go ahead and unfasten the sleeping bags.”

“Got it.”

I find a large log and roll it over to the rocks, thinking it’s the perfect size for two.

“Good thing we ate that late lunch today.”

I look up and grin. “Yeah, it is. I have some protein bars, drinks and dried fruit packed in our gear, whenever you get hungry later.”

“Sounds tasty, Sir.”

I glance up from maneuvering the log and see the imploring, seductive look in her eyes. Nuh-uh, princess, you’re going to wait patiently for me this evening. What I have planned will drive you to the brink of sanity.

She’s on her hands and knees, smoothing out the navy-blue down bags, her long braid hanging beautifully over one shoulder, a cascade of plaited gold. I could watch her forever and never be bored. I light the kindling in several places then use a stick to poke it, making sure it ignites evenly.

“Sit with me, Ingvild.”

She takes a deep drink from her thermos, pours some over her hands, and then turns to walk over and drop down next to me. Her slim, denim-clad legs brush against mine as she offers me the water. We stare into the fire for a long while before I shift to face her. She’s looking thoughtfully into the dancing flames and I can’t resist staring at the rise and fall of her ivory breasts, on gorgeous display in a fitted, low-cut white top.

“I’ve invented a game.”

She pulls her attention away from the blaze and stares at me. “Oh really? What kind?”

“The kind that involves you, me, and the forest.”

Right there. I see the raw desire in her face. She’s practically salivating to know where I’m taking this.

“Does it have a name?”

“Takedown.”

“And what are the rules, Sir?’

“It’s basically a very adult version of hide and seek. I expect you to choose a very good hiding spot where you remain hidden for at least four minutes. The difference is, Ingvild, if I find you before that time is up, each minute in my favor is equal to ten ruthless over-the-knee fireside spankings. Are you clear on my rules?”

Her fingers are splayed out on her knees and she’s huffing out excited little breaths as she asks, “And what if I evade you? What then, Sir?”

“If I can’t find you in the allotted time, then you get to name whatever sexual favor you want.”

“Mmm … I like that part of the game, Sir.”

“I thought so. I’m going to give you a full five minutes to choose your spot. I’ll sit right here and wait before I hunt you down. Ready?”

Her head whips in several directions. Adrenaline must already be racing through her veins because her eyes are wide and she’s clearly breathless.

“I’m ready.”

“Make me proud, princess. On three … one, two, three!”

I blink and she’s up and gone, the noisy crunch of leaves the only indicator of her possible course. I fight the urge to turn around and look, instead deciding to keep myself distracted by unpacking a few necessary items from the saddlebags that I carefully lay out at the bottom of my sleeping bag. After that I toss extra logs onto the fire to make sure it’s roaring. It’s summer, but this far north it never really gets hot. The last thing I want is for her to get chilled when she’s stark naked. I practically lick my lips at the sinful thought.

I glance down at my watch. I stopped hearing any movement nearly as soon as she bolted. At first it bothered me, thinking that she might be lost, but no, I know her. Even though it’s not dark out—the midnight sun preventing darkness this time of year—she’ll stay fairly close. She has her wits about her and above all, my naughty little pet wants me to hunt her down.

I crank my arms back and forth to relieve the tension of the road. Then I raise my chin and yell, “Time’s up, baby! Hope you’re ready ’cause I’m coming for you!”

***

It takes all my self-control to keep my body stock-still as he closes in on me. I knew he would expect me to hide behind one of the trees thick enough to conceal a body, so instead I found a dense thicket with a rotted tree stump in the middle. The entire mass only comes up to my knees, but if I lie absolutely flush with the ground, then I’m concealed, at least from the side he’ll be coming from.

It’s odd that he’s silent—no playful teasing that he’s on my trail. Then again, he’s a trained hunter and he obviously takes this game seriously. I press my palms into the grass and leaves, trying to still my trembling. I can hear him off in the distance—the slow, methodical snapping of twigs under his heavy boots followed by moments of dead silence. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t hear my shallow breathing. In my ears, it sounds like a relentless roaring. Closer, ever closer he makes his way toward me. Knowing him, he can smell my perfume.

Oh God, I should have gone farther into the forest. Damn! He’s closing in now, and from the sound of his footfalls, he’s cutting a direct path toward me. The urge to push up and sprint for it is nearly overwhelming but I decide to wait it out and call his bluff. Maybe it’s merely a coincidence that he’s this close? Ever so slowly, I flip my hand over and lower my face down into my palm as a precaution against making an involuntary sound. One thing I’ve learned over the past year is that fear can cause you to react in ways you’d never think possible. In this scenario my roiling emotions are seesawing between pounding lust and pure terror—a seductive combination.

Every hair on my body is on high alert and I can swear that I can hear his low, even breathing. He has to be nearly on top of me!

I gasp against my palm as he says in his rumbling voice, “I know where you are, princess. You have ten second to make a run for it.”

Is he bluffing? Maybe this is just a tactic to draw me out into the open. Nope, I’m not budging. Let him prove it.

He lets out an amused laugh. “Always so stubborn, little one. Your choice.”

I hold my position, betting that he hasn’t a clue where I am. Time ticks by and finally I exhale long and low through my nose, relieved that I’ve actually outsmarted him. Suddenly the sounds are coming at me in a frantic rush … from behind!

I shriek and try in vain to scramble away, but he’s too quick. In a flash he’s on me, pinning me completely with his weight. In a victorious voice, he says against my hair, “Guess you should’ve run for it.”

Passion explodes within me. His scent, his perfect heat … all of it is like a drug to me. I twist my head a bit, still unable to see his face as I tell him haughtily, “Hmm, maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be captured.”

He lifts his frame just enough to grab my right wrist and flips me over to face him. His eyes are smoldering with need, the natural light making them practically gleam as he responds, “Oh, that’s a given. You owe me ten spankings, angel. I found you in just under three minutes.”

“But it felt like I was out here forever! Are you sure?”

His eyes narrow as he whispers across to me, “Am I sure? Did you seriously just second-guess your Dom?”

Shit!

I try to backpedal. “Well, no, I was only pointing out that it felt like an eternity. Sorry, Sir.”

“Your mouth just earned you five more, and that’s in addition to the five you earned earlier for your sassy comment about the ferry. You now owe me twenty. Up you go. You know I’ve never been one to let punishments slide.”

“Oh!” One second I’m on my back and the next I’m pulled upright, only to be lifted up and over his muscular shoulder. He strides back to our little camp, carrying me as if I’m no heavier than a backpack.

His amused voice surrounds me. “You know, Ingvild, I have to hand it to you … excellent hiding place. Took me far longer than I expected to locate you, sweetheart.”

I giggle and watch my braid sway back and forth. It’s matted with leaves and a few flowers as it hits the back of his jeans.

“Thank you, Sir. You know what lengths I’d go to in order to escape one of your punishments.”

“Ah, but there’s your issue, little one. We both know that when all is said and done, you genuinely love my punishments.”

“You have a point, Sir. I do love your punishments, but not nearly as much as I love your rewards.”

“Mmm, do you have any idea how insane you make me, princess?”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

He stops and I can see the flickering flames though his legs. He slowly places me on my feet, telling me quietly, “I’m about to show you firsthand how ‘good’ it really is. Now walk over to the sleeping bags and bring me the Hitachi wand.”

My eyes widen as I say, “You packed it? But Sir, there’s no way to use it out here. There’s no electrical outlet.”

He shakes his head back and forth, his expression one of astonishment as he replies darkly, “Five more, pet. When will you learn? Not that I have to explain, but I picked up a cordless rechargeable version, thinking it would be an interesting enhancement to our trip. Now do as I ask … that is, unless you have more to add on this topic?”

His stern eyes make my cheeks flame with embarrassment. Agh! Five more? Seriously? Why the hell can’t I curb my tongue? It’s a given that I must be one of the most insubordinate subs around, although thankfully he’s never said so.

I whirl about and race to pick up the addictive toy, wondering how he’s going to put it to use on me this serene summer night.

***

I nearly laugh out loud, thinking that only Ingvild could turn ten spankings into twenty-five inside of an hour. I admire the slim line of her back and full curve of her ass as she bends to pick up the toy, rushing back to where I’m sitting.

“Hand over the wand and stand between my legs.”

She positions herself and hands me the white and blue device. I slip the handle down into my back pocket and reach up, gently removing the debris from her disheveled braid. I sigh, and she looks down to watch as I slowly pull the elastic away, realizing that it’s the only way to get it all out.

“So pretty,” I tell her quietly as I indulge myself by combing through the radiant strands. My fingers slide though the length of her hair for several minutes until she reaches out to place her small palms on my shoulders and lets out a long, contented sigh.

“You like that, do you?”

“Mmm, hmm. It’s relaxing me.”

“Good, it will help you get through it.” She locks up, eyes wide as I continue, “Lose the jeans and top. Keep the panties and bra in place, then lie across my lap.”

I deliberately keep my voice calm and flat, giving her little indication as to my mood, which happens to be one of insatiable lust. It’ll be a challenge to hold back tonight. The setting and her excitement are all ramping up the tempo of our play.

My back molars grind together as she slowly takes her clothes off before carefully draping herself across my thighs. Goddamn, she’s unbelievable.

I palm her ass over her ice blue panties and tell her in a rough voice, “Scream if you need to.”

I pull my arm back and let the blows rain down in a methodical, rapid succession. The first one steals her breath away, and the ones that follow elicit piercing shrieks and screams from the stinging, white-hot pain. She can handle it. I’m not spanking nearly as hard as I’m capable of doing. No, that would make her wail or possibly pass out. At number fifteen, I stop and yank her panties all the way down to her ankles before reaching into my back pocket for the Hitachi. I flip it on and work it between her parted legs, allowing the smooth, vibrating head to drive her little clit insane. Her cries from the spanking morph into ones of desperate pleasure. Music to my ears, baby doll.

Her incoherent sounds are so sexy that it’s almost impossible not to take her this second.

When I think she’s had enough stimulation, I pull the wand away, keeping it close on the log beside me. She knows better than to cum—that’s never allowed without my permission. Her ass is a vibrant shade of cherry red but she owes me ten more and I’m going to collect on the debt.

“Nearly there. Take the last few like a good girl.”

I decrease the intensity on the final ten, but that doesn’t keep her from screaming out, her tender flesh glowing with discomfort. Good thing we’re not riding too far tomorrow, ’cause she’s gonna feel this for a few days to come.

As the last spank connects I still my hand, feeling the searing heat radiating from her tender flesh.

“There, all done.”

She’s sniffling and struggling to catch her breath as I pull her up and cradle her in my lap. Praising her softly, I say, “You took that really well. I’m proud of you.”

She buries her face in my chest and her tears begin to saturate the cotton of my gray T-shirt.

I reach down and carefully slip her panties the rest of the way off her ankles and feet before pushing her legs farther apart. Using my thumb, I massage her clit, working it in a series of firm circles, spreading her dampness all around until she clings tighter to my neck and begs, “Please, oh please, Sir ….”

I reach for the wand and turn it back on, placing it directly against her core, allowing the ingenious device to caress both her sensitive clit and her needy little sex.

My facial hair brushes against her ear as I give her the green light, whispering, “Let go. Cum now!”

Inside of three seconds her entire body jolts hard in my arms as the current of ecstasy travels through her.

She screams out her pleasure, arching up, desperate for deeper contact with the toy. This gorgeous creature is splayed out in wild abandon across my lap.

My voice is raw with lust as I growl, “That’s it. Give me every bit of that gorgeous orgasm!”

Slowly her shuddering body begins to relax in my arms. I set the Hitachi aside and lift her high, walking us the few paces over to the sleeping bags. Her face is damp, eyes glazed with blissed-out satisfaction.

There’s plenty more of those in store for you tonight.

I lay her down in the center and stand over her, impatiently removing my clothes. She wiggles up to her elbows and I stop her. “No, lie still. I want you just like that.”

The look in her eyes tells me what I can never get enough of hearing—that her pure heart is filled to the brim with love. I have another surprise in store for her this weekend. Hidden safely in the zippered pocket of my leather vest is a three-carat emerald-cut diamond ring that took me nearly two months to locate because I’m such a particular bastard. Only the best for my girl. I’m going to take her out in Alreck’s boat and ask her to do me the honor of becoming my wife. Yeah, this is the summer of a lifetime.

Her sultry voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Sir? Is everything all right?”

“Shh.”

I kick my boxer briefs aside and lower myself down between her parted legs, easing my throbbing cock right into her slick, perfect heat. We both sigh heavily and I gather her wrists in my hands, hoisting them up and pinning them down above her head. I begin to work myself in and out of her with steady, vigorous thrusts.

I nip her bottom lip and demand, “Hike your legs higher.”

She obeys, and I groan at the deeper angle. Her pussy does things to my brain and body that I could never live without. It’s her or nothing, always has been from the moment I saw her. I slam into her once more, fucking her with all the unspoken feelings swirling inside like a violent storm. She’s nearly come off the bag from our animalistic lovemaking when I tell her, “Again … cum again for me!”

I shove deep and fast several more times, set on hitting that hidden pleasure spot, when she tightens around me. A choked scream tears from her throat as her body goes wild beneath mine. I can’t take anymore and I lay into her, furiously bucking my hips until my orgasm roars through me like a massive blast.

I’m gasping for air as I choke out, “Holy shit. That was unbelievable.”

She’s dazed, and several seconds pass before she grabs my damp neck, pulling me in for a fevered kiss. In her sweet voice she tells me breathlessly, “You always make it that way, Aksel. I want you to know that I’d follow you to hell and back if it meant we’d never be apart. Always remember that.”

I kiss her softly and whisper, “I will, always. You touch my soul, Ingvild, and I’m so damned grateful that I found you now rather than later in life.”

“I’m glad we met when we did as well.”

“Hey, speaking of when we met, how strong is your throwing arm, princess?”

“Huh?”

I gently lift myself off her and reach for my T-shirt. Grinning mischievously, I help her up to her feet before quickly slipping the fabric over her head and arms.

“You’ll see.”

I jab my legs into my jeans, choosing to go commando, and hurry over to the bike, reaching into one of the satchels until I feel the wrapped package resting at the very bottom. Perfect, exactly what I’m looking for.

Holding it tight, I walk back to her. She has a quizzical expression on her face as I take her by the hand and lead her over to the very edge of the steep cliff. Her eyes stare down at the black felt package in my hand.

I hold it out to her, saying quietly, “Here, I want you to unwrap it.”

Slowly she takes it from me and unties the twine. The binding and material slip away to reveal the mask, and she raises her eyes to meet mine. Hesitantly she says, “But, I don’t understand.”

“I’ve thought long and hard on this, Ingvild, and now I understand that the last place this artifact belongs is in my house inside a spotless glass case. Its rightful place is in nature, exactly where it was created and where the men who forged it spent their time. It served its purpose for my great-grandfather, giving him hope to fight when it seemed there was none. For me, well, it was the reason your soul connected with mine on that freezing winter night. I want you to throw it as far as you can out into the waters of the fjord.”

She stares thoughtfully at the damaged piece of history before pulling her arm back over her right shoulder. Poised to throw, she glances at me one last time. I nod and she lets it fly. We both watch it sail through the summer air, the ancient gold twisting countless times before it strikes the cobalt blue water far below, making only a slight splash before sinking beneath the surface in the blink of an eye. We both stand there, saying our silent goodbyes to the mysterious object that, against all possible odds, brought us together.

* * *

Erotic Romance Author Christine Edwards grew up in the South on Hilton Head Island. At an early age she developed a passion for the arts that led her to earn a bachelor’s degree in art history from the College of Charleston in South Carolina. Christine has a special place in her heart for reading and writing erotic tales.

She continues to publish stories that immerse readers in exotic and realistic geographic settings amid interesting subcultures of adult life. Within the vein of BDSM romance, her main focus is on loving, multi-faceted relationships involving intense alpha males and feisty heroines.

An avid skier, she will take on just about anything that is vertical. Christine resides in the Deep South.

Please visit Christine online:

www.christineedwardsauthor.com.

Twitter: @ceerotica

Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Epilogue