The Prisoner -- The Last Kingdom

Chapter 5

They lay together in the soft bed of furs, face to face. Aethelflaed had fallen asleep, but now she stirred and shivered, feeling the night air against her skin, still damp from the sweat of lovemaking. Erik drew a blanket up to cover her and she sighed at the warmth. His gaze ran up her bare shoulders to the soft curve of his throat. Yes, she was bruised there. He had heard her wince when he kissed her neck, the subtle sound of pain prompting him to be more gentle with his touch.

"How could he do this to you," Erik whispered.

Aethelflaed smiled, a small, sad smile. "Who would stop him?"

"Your father is one of the most powerful men in the land. I do not understand how his daughter can be harmed in her own home and he does nothing."

"Erik, you know that men are not punished for how they treat their wives. Not among your people and certainly not among mine. Especially not when such a punishment could start a war between kingdoms."

Erik rolled on to his back, his fists clenched in anger. He knew what men were capable of. He had witnessed the violence of men, suffered it, even performed it. But that was on the battlefield. He had never understood the drive to exercise brutal power in one's own home. And Aethelflaed? Was there no one in her life to stand up for her? No one who felt even a fraction of the care he felt for her?

"What of Wulfric? The captain of your guard. He would fall on his own sword before letting you come to harm. Why didn't he escort you here?"

Aethelflaed sighed. "Aethelred sent him away months ago. Dismissed him from my service. He sent away all the men who were loyal to me." She had wept when Wulfric had left – he had been a good friend to her for so long – and Aethelred had taken her grief as proof that his jealousy was justified.

"He viewed Wulfric as a threat?" Erik asked.

"Of course he did. Wulfric was too kind to me. Don't you know, Erik? No man would bother to treat me with respect unless he wanted me in his bed." Aethelflaed's tone was sarcastic, and he saw she wanted to speak of other things.

"I'm afraid I might prove Aethelred right on that count, princess," Erik replied, reaching under the blanket to run his hands down her side, causing her to tremble. "I have been dreaming about taking you to bed since the first night I saw you."

Aethelflaed giggled as his rough fingers grazed her thigh. "Tell me, was it just as you imagined it?"

"In my dreams, you were always right here," Erik pulled her over, placing her knees on either side of his hips, "riding me." He ran his hands up her torso, then placed her hands on his shoulders. "And you were rough." He guided her hands, dragging her nails down his chest.

Aethelflaed's breath caught in her throat as she felt the muscles of his torso, her nails scraping past the black lines of tattoos and the white lines of old scars. "Why would I be rough with you?"

"You were my captor, princess. You were in command."

She leaned forward, as if to kiss him, but stopped just shy of his lips. "I'm not a princess," she whispered, "Wessex has no princess."

Erik's hands traced down her back and rested on her ass. "You are my princess."

"Call me by my name," she commanded, gripping his arm too tight, pressing with her nails until he gasped.

"Princess," he replied.

She bent and skimmed her lips down his neck, pausing on his shoulder. "Say my name," she hissed, before biting into the tough flesh, drawing a groan from Erik.

"Princess."

She smiled at his stubbornness. "Say it and I'll ride you, like you dreamt."

A mischievous grin stretched across Erik's face. "Aethelflaed." He breathed her name like it was a secret. She lowered her hips, taking him inside her.