Home > Ravish Her(4)

Ravish Her(4)
Author: Jenika Snow

She sputtered but realized it was just water. Either way, she wasn’t about to swallow it. Agata wasn’t going to stay here either. With her head still aching, her arm throbbing painfully, she managed to muster up her strength and pushed past the hulk of a man.

He was either taken off guard by her sudden movements, or he wasn’t worried about her getting away, because he moved far too easily.

She hurried through the small hut toward the front entrance and glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her. She was frozen for a moment, not knowing why she wasn’t escaping right now while he stood still.

But the way he watched her, with hooded eyes and this fierce determination in his expression, had fear and coldness moving through her. This man was dangerous—that was for sure.

Agata pushed open the wooden door, and the chill in the air startled her for a moment. She had no clue where she was. The woods surrounded her on every side, and the sun was just starting to set. She wouldn’t be able to see anything if she ran.

She looked over her shoulder once more, heard the low growl that came from him, and watched as he tossed the cup to the side of the room. Agata took off, not thinking about anything anymore. She felt her lungs burn as she moved through the forest, not knowing where she was going, but not caring.

Getting away was the only important thing right now.

Her legs weren’t injured, but her head was growing more painful by the second, and her arm was tucked right against her chest. She cradled it, unsure how it had gotten hurt in the first place. Agata didn’t care if he had tended to her.

She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted with her, and she didn’t know where she was. It was clear that man wouldn’t be forthcoming with any answers.

She knew she missed her flight. It had been nightfall when she was at the festival, and with the sun just now setting, it had to be at least the following day. Like one of those fools in horror movies, she looked over her shoulder. She couldn’t help it. Agata needed to know where he was and if he was coming after her.

The flash of his blond hair came through a break in the trees. He was running parallel with her, tracking her… hunting her. A soft cry left her at the nightmare she was in now.

The sight of light in the distance had her hopes rising. Was it the small town the festival had been in? She ran harder, pushed herself faster, and knew she needed to get to the tree line.

That way she could yell out for help. The closer she got, the more she felt like everything would be okay, but when she saw the rows of huts, crudely made and not of the twenty-first century, her footsteps stalled slightly.

She fell forward, her foot getting caught in one of the roots, and landed on her injured arm. Crying out in pain, she forced herself to stand up and move forward. She broke through the trees and stepped into the village. God, where in the hell was she?

“Help me!” she cried out, glancing over her shoulder again, and saw the beast barreling toward her. He had no shirt on and wore only those leathers. He looked like a predator, and she was his prey. The way he stalked forward, an ax held in his hand, had her eyes widening and fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

She turned and ran into the village a few more steps but faltered when she saw several people stop what they were doing to stare at her. They wore clothing that was not of this time.

The women had braids woven into their locks, and the men had longer hair and beards. They looked like the pictures she’d seen of Vikings and the villages in the Scandinavian area centuries ago.

“I need help. That man—” She pointed behind her, saw the people look over her shoulder, and then saw their eyes widen. “—he’s after me.” She switched it up to Norwegian, but they either didn’t understand her or didn’t care.

The women gathered the children, and the men ushered the females away, then stood their ground and held their swords and axes in front of them, as if on the defense. She spun around, saw the beast man coming at her, and felt the world tilt. Why wasn’t anyone helping her?

“Du tror du kana kjøre fra megoki, konna?” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. She tried to scream out, but he placed a hand over her mouth and stifled the sound. “Jeg er en rekker.” He stared at the villagers, and she heard the same word being shouted over and over again.


Agata could roughly, crudely translate that word, and knew that it meant “Beast”. She stared wide-eyed at this man who now held her, his hand still on her mouth.

“Ja konna. Jeg er Dýr.”

The beast had claimed a wife, and Agata was right in the middle of the lion’s den.






Agata stared at the man, hating that he chained her up like some kind of animal, but supposed he was smart for doing it. She’d run if she had the chance, get far away from this barbarian, and try to get back to her life.

God, how her boring, lonely life sounded like heaven right now. She looked down at the chain and wrapped her hand around it, giving it a tug. It was attached to the wall across from her and wasn’t budging.

“I’m not a dog to be tied up, and I’m not your prisoner.” It had been a day since he dragged her away from that worthless village filled with worthless people who wouldn’t even help a woman being kidnapped. The sun had risen, and she hadn’t slept more than a few hours, afraid of closing her eyes and not knowing what he’d do to her.

He hadn’t hurt her, but then again, he kept her chained up, forced water down her throat, and spoke in harsh grunts in a language she wasn’t familiar with. They couldn’t even communicate, or at least he pretended he couldn’t understand her, and she sure as hell couldn’t understand what those villagers said.

How was he supposed to have her comply with anything he wanted? He’d taken her, stored her away from the real world, and she had no clue how to get out of this.

He looked over at her but then walked away and left the hut. She sat up straighter, tried to peer out the door, but he came back all too soon carrying two fish strung up on a line. She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent. They were clearly fresh, but they certainly had that fish smell going on.

He kept his gaze locked on her as he moved over to the wooden, chipped, and scarred table pushed against the wall. He pulled it back so he could keep his eye on her, then started running a knife up the belly of the first fish.

He did the same with the second and ripped the insides out of the animals, tossing the remains into a wooden bucket.

She hadn’t spoken to him since, but he hadn’t said anything to her either. Maybe he preferred silence, but Agata wasn’t about to sit here and make this easy for him.

“I’m not going to be your wife. I’ll never give in to you willingly.”

He glanced up at her with just his eyes, his head still downcast and his hands shoved up the belly of the fish.

She straightened her shoulders. “I won’t be your konna.” She used the word he said to her, called her. It meant wife—that much she knew.

This language he spoke was similar to Norwegian, but it was its own dialect, confusing and thickly accented. She picked up on words here and there when he spoke to her, but other than that, she was in the dark.

“Do you understand me?”

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