Sabine knew she had been given the ultimate gift: life. It was the reason that stumped her. Why would her avowed enemy save her life? And why did she find herself in the depths of his underground stronghold wearing nothing but velvety blankets and the lacy thong she stepped into only a few hours earlier?
Wonders never ceased.
She knew this to be Bryn the Blackheart’s cave, set deep into a dormant volcano in Iceland. Lore had long told of the maze of tunnels and traps that would befall anyone trying to enter, or more probably, trying to escape the fortress. Most of the horrors had surely been exaggerated; there was no way that flesh eating eels could survive this frigid environment. Was there?
Sabine drew the heavy blankets around her to ward off the chill. Her nipples dimpled into tight rosettes giving her a tingle that she knew she had to check. This was no place for pleasure. Many of her kind gasped their last breath describing pain and torture beyond imagination. Unless you were a monster. Bryn was a monster. She prayed to her gods for a quick and only slightly painful end.
Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the cave walls as if an army was heading towards her. There was absolutely no way to know from which direction the being, in all likelihood Bryn, was coming. Sabine was sure that was how he designed it. Keep the prisoner guessing. It was all a sick game for him.
Sabine had never before seen Bryn but she imagined him hideous. A hulking beast, drooling, matted hair, foul odor. Her kind was delicate and lovely creatures and she just knew there would see nothing of that sort in the brute who was going to end her life. Her flesh crawled thinking of what he might do to her; the savagery and the brutality nearly bringing tears to sting her eyes. She willed them dry; he would not see her weak. She would stand and face him like the warrior she was.
A huge shadow cast against the far wall and Sabine stood. She held her body, naked save the lacy orange thong, straight and proud. She vowed not to cry or plead and looked the horrid beast right in the eye. Once again her flesh prickled and her nipples tightened; only this time it was for an entirely different reason.
Bryn was no monster. He was perfection in a male form. Certainly not beautiful for old scars and fresh wounds covered the mass of his legs, arms and chest creating a map of battles won and those nearly lost. His long blond hair was reminiscent of a Norse God. Broad chin born of determination and strong will. Sabine was breathless from the sheer maleness of him. His next words put her back on the bed amongst the soft, velvety blankets.
“Sabine, my beautiful warrior-bride.”
She knew he spoke the truth. She was grateful of it.