She could have gotten lost in those designs, lost in this man who made her feel these dark, wrong desires.
Agata pulled away from him and promptly sat in the water, trying to cover herself up. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and stared up at him. He went over to the table and grabbed a basin of steaming water.
She stared at his back and the lash marks crisscrossing his tanned, toned flesh, and she wondered who had done that to him. But despite her better judgment, she found herself lowering her gaze along the tattoos, and lower still until she stared at his ass.
God, she’d never been one to appreciate the male ass, but Stian certainly had one that was chiseled out of marble.
When he turned back around with the basin in hand, she looked up at him, feeling her cheeks heat with the thought he’d seen her checking him out. Turning her head away from him when he smirked, she grew pissed, so angry that she was helpless right now.
He bent down, and she felt her eyes widen and straightened her back when he reached in the tub and grabbed for a cloth. Smacking his hand away when he brushed along her thigh, she grabbed the cloth from him.
“I can wash myself.” This was not what she wanted, being bathed by a barbarian, but she also couldn’t deny the warm water and oils he put in made her feel semi-human again. He let out a gruff noise but did give her the rag.
She turned her back to him, looked over her shoulder, narrowed her eyes, and cursed under her breath. Yeah, she said she would try to play along, but that was harder than she thought.
One side of her wanted to just give in and play the part, think of a way to escape, but then another part said she should never relent toward this man who was holding her prisoner. He chained her up like he owned her or something, and she wouldn’t submit to him.
After she finished washing herself, and hiding her body as much as she could, she looked at him again and saw him staring at her with a blank expression. His eyes were so blue, so penetrating, that she felt bare in not just the literal sense, but the figurative as well.
She told herself that being shy around this man needed to be eradicated, because he clearly didn’t care about his nudity. He was still so hard, so aroused, and she forced herself not to look, not to ogle like a damn perverted captive lusting after her captor. No, she wouldn’t go down that route.
Grabbing the longer cloth he handed her, she rose from the tub and covered her breasts and mound with it. It was thicker, slightly scratchy, and as she rubbed her body dry right before wrapping it around her, she kept her focus on the wood-planked floor.
He started speaking in his language, and although she found it fascinating and beautiful, she also grew frustrated.
“I can’t understand a damn thing you’re saying.” She found the humor in the fact that she couldn’t understand him, yet she answered him in frustration, knowing he couldn’t answer her. Closing her eyes and trying to gain her strength and a semblance of calm, she fought with herself over what the right thing was she should be doing right now.
Getting out of the tub, she moved quickly to the corner of the room where the pallet she slept on the night before was. Stian stared at her for a long moment, then moved over to the basin of water and climbed in.
He looked ridiculous in the small thing, given that he was huge. She couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t help looking at the beads of water trailing down the hard muscles of his abdomen. He was built like a tank, indestructible and deadly.
“Konna, ser på meg barenteg gjør meg sárþarfnast du mer.” When he turned just his head, looked at her over his shoulder, and his blue gaze pierced her, she felt a chill of cold air move through her.
For the next ten minutes, she got dressed when his back was toward her, picking up the articles of clothing he tossed on the pallet when she’d been in the basin and cleaning off. The clothes were loose, but there was a leather tie or strap of some sort.
When she had the cream-colored shift on, she tied the leather strap around her waist. Looking back at him, she saw he was facing her now. She wore no undergarments, and her nipples got hard at the fact that he was stroking himself. What a fucking pig.
Yet the desire coursed through her violently like a tempting serpent, weaving its way through her erogenous zones and making her feel ashamed she felt this way.
He finished cleaning himself off, stroking himself until there was no filth left on his body and only the golden, hard male flesh was revealed. Once out of the water and dressed in a pair of suede-looking pants with leather ties in the front, he moved over to the table and started back in on the fish.
He held up a finished filet, pointed his knife to it, and said in a deeply thick voice, “Fiskr.” He pointed the knife to the fish.
She licked her lips and nodded. “Fish. Yeah, I see that.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but then he slapped the fish on the wooden table and pointed the knife at the crudely made bench off to the side.
“Eta.”
She could assume what he said. Eat. He wanted her to eat the fish. She was hungry, so she went over to the bench and sat down, keeping her gaze locked on him as he cooked the fish on the open fire until the scent was sweet and slightly salty, and it made her stomach growl in hunger.
He brought the cooked fillets to her, offered her the meat on a bone plate, and she curled her lip slightly at the fact that it looked like a hollowed femur of a large creature. She took the offered meal, glanced at Stian, and waited until he started to eat his portion.
“Thanks,” she whispered softly, not knowing why she was grateful for anything this man gave her.
For the next twenty minutes, they ate in silence, the sound of the fire crackling right in front of them seeming overly loud, and the feel of Stian watching her was a little unnerving.
Once finished, he took their plates and lifted her up. She was forced to brace her hands on his chest for support, smelled the clean, crisp scent of his body invade her senses, and pulled away. Or at least she tried.
Stian grabbed her wrists and led her over to the pallet. She struggled when he tried to pull her down on it, but he was so much stronger than she was.
When they were both lying down, her back to his chest, and his very pronounced erection digging in the small of her back, she squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her thighs together.
The sound of him inhaling at the top of her head seemed loud, and she thought about other things, about things that were not of this situation, of this nightmare. She pictured herself back home, alone and safe in her home.
It was a nice thought, a nice desire, but there was no escaping this reality.
8
Stian inhaled Agata’s delicious-smelling hair. It was a combination of the Locca flowers he’ picked early in the year and dried, but also her own natural aroma. She was plush and soft in all the right places a man could appreciate.
The firelight and his body warmed her skin, and he rose up on his elbow and looked down at her form.
Her generous breasts could be seen through the thin material of the shift he made for her. The way her nipples protruded through the fabric told him that although she was trying to go against him and everything he was, she was aroused.
He smoothed a hand down her side and saw the way her breathing increased, and her hands tightened in the hides beneath her.