It’s midweek, and that means it’s time for another exclusive snippet from my forthcoming new release, The Viking’s Possession. In this scene, Aurelie awaits Anders’ verdict about her latest punishment…
***
Trapped in the confines of his bedcovers, I eye the implement in his hands with trepidation. It’s a lash, much like the one he has used on me before, and memories of those times flood my brain, my mouth drying in an instant. “My Lofðungr, please,” I say, the plea out before I even have time to think. “Do I really deserve such a penance?”
He reaches the opposite edge of the bed, smiling. “Is it for you to decide how your punishment is delivered?”
I shake my head, fear and arousal combining to make me feel giddy. “No, my Lofðungr,” I whisper.
He drops to the covers below, his weight reverberating up the length of the bed to where I sit, curled into something of a ball. “You have no reason to fear me, Aurelie,” he smiles. “After everything which has transpired between us, do you really think I could cause you any real harm?”
I blink away the tears that have collected in my eyes, once more shaking my head at his question. “No,” I sniff, watching him as he slides further up the bed toward me. “But please remember, my Lofðungr, you hold all of the cards here. These are your chambers, your town—your people. I am but a foreigner here—an alien—your most recent conquest.”
His tongue darts from his mouth, licking his lower lip in an unconscious way. “Au-re-lie,” he murmurs in that way that makes me belly clench and my sex yearn for him. “You know me better than this now, no?” He poses it as a question, yet gives me no time to respond. “I do not bring women back to my castle—not ever—not until you.”
There is silence for a moment as I absorb his words.
“I have done a great many things which I am not proud of,” he continues. “I have humiliated and treated you unfairly…” Here he pauses, his gaze intense as we both recall the deeds to which he refers. My face begins to flame at the memory of the things that have transpired between us. “I am a devil, Aurelie. I do not deny it. Yet you saved me, my sweeting, and so now, what am I?”
I draw in a deep breath, hypnotised by his performance. “You are the prince?” I offer in a tiny voice. “You always were.”
He smiles, dismissing my answer with a small shake of his blond hair. “A prince perhaps,” he concedes, “but much more than that, Aurelie. Now I am your devil—all yours—and you are mine.”
***
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