Chapter Eleven

Warning: Explicit sexual situations

We've been sitting in silence for hours, now. Ivar's now laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with his jaw clenched so tight that I'm scared his teeth might shatter if he isn't careful.

I'm sitting on the floor, my back still against the door with my hands gently clasped together.

He still hasn't responded to what I told him about me killing my child with Ubbe so he wouldn't find out I cheated on him and leave me.

I don't think he was prepared to hear of me doing something so selfish.

"Come here," I hear him whisper out and I raise my head to look at him. He doesn't look at me, his focus still on the ceiling, but he lifts his hand and motions me to him once before letting it fall back beside him.

I get up slowly, cautiously making my way to him and when the tops of my thighs hit the side of the bed he finally turns his head to watch me move closer to him.

I rest on my knees when I get on the bed, my arms staying close around myself as I wait for him to say something. Anything.

He sits himself up with a low grunt, his fingers fumbling to rid himself of any weapons on him. I watch as he tosses them off the bed, the heavy weight of each blade and handle thumping against the flooring.

When he's finished, he looks at me from the corner of his eye and his hand reaches out to grab my arm and snatch me on to him.

It's sudden and confusing.

I expect to be bleeding out and dying by the time he's settled between my thighs as I straddle him, our lips merely touching.

My hands rest on his broad shoulders and the callouses of his hands are rough enough for me to feel through the material of my dress from where they rest on my thighs.

Shallow breaths brush past my lips as I try to grasp what exactly is on his mind.

My question is answered when his hands move to my hips, pulling me closer to him as his lips touch mine briefly, softly.

When he pulls away slightly, eyes examining my expression, I open my mouth to ask him what he thinks of the entire situation I told him about and he places his thumb over my parted lips to stop me.

"I don't want to speak right now." Is all he says before his hand grasps the side of my cheek and pulls my lips to his once more.

I don't argue, giving in to the rough kiss that's being shared between us. His hand leaves my face to join his other one in its desperate attempt to get my dress off. Again, it's sudden, the movement swift and effortless. Our lips are only interrupted by the fabric passing between our faces for a split second before the dress is thrown aside. His eyes grow heavy with lust—an emotion not often felt by Ivar the way it's felt by most men—and they drift down to the bare skin of my breasts and waist, his jaw clenching and unclenching when he sees the flesh between my legs against his clothed groin.

I hate the fact I'm the only one who's bared and vulnerable. But nothing's new.

My hand goes to the buckles of his thick armor, my fingers tugging at the leather and metal, loosening it, and pulling it off of him. He complies, his hands falling to my thighs once more as I pull his shirt over his head to reveal smooth, warm skin underneath. My fingers brush against the bare skin of his chest, my eyes retracing every movement.

His hand is tugging at the bottom of my braided hair, demanding the strands to be set free. My hair falls down my back in waves as his fingers comb through it before gently grasping it at the root as his thumb rubs at my cheek bone. He gives me a hint of a smile before he's angling my head to the side to give his lips. tongue and teeth access to my neck.

The whisper of a moan leaves my lips as he starts his slow torture of marking up my neck and shoulders.

The palms of my hands cling to his muscular arms that could crush me if he wanted them to, and I absentmindedly grind in to him, causing my head to tip back and my mouth to gasp out in pleasure.

"Ivar," I say with pure want laced through my tone.

His teeth let go of the skin above my collar bone and he brings his lips back to mine, his hands tracing up my sides, ghosting over my ribs.

We haven't been this intimate in years. A sudden nervousness washes over me at this realization just as he flips us over to be on top of me and his hand trails down my abdomen to the junction between my legs.

I have never closed my legs so quickly in my life.

"What is it?" He asks me quietly, his other arm flexing as he holds his weight above me with ease. My arms cover my chest, my mouth opening to speak, but closing shortly after to avoid embarrassing myself. "Issy." His tone is stern but not in an angry or irritated way. If something's wrong, he wants me to tell him.

"We haven't..." I start, tears coming to my eyes for some reason unknown to me. Surely I'm not thinking that much in to this. "It's been years, Ivar." Is all I can get out and his brows furrow.

"Do you not want to?" He asks, about to shift off of me but I shock myself and lock my legs around his waist to keep him still, my arms still covering my bare breasts from his eyes.

"No, I do." I argue frantically, my voice shaking. His brows raise, confusion cloaking his features as he tries to figure me out in this moment.

"So you want to, but you don't...?" He glances down at my covered chest and then back up at me.

"I feel like it's the first time we are doing this, Ivar." I finally spit out helplessly, my voice holding a small whine to it.

"Iskra, it is the billionth time we've done this." He points out. "This," He motions between us. "Is all we ever did towards the end of our relationship. This is undoubtedly the one thing we are guaranteed to actually do right." A chuckle holds in his throat and I swat at his shoulder.

"It is not funny, Ivar. I think I have a good reason to be nervous." I explain and he rolls his eyes.

"We've seen each other naked many times. I have done things to you many times. Everything still works the same way as it did then. The only difference is that we are older. That is it." He tries to calm me down and I nod slowly, closing my eyes for a brief moment. "If anyone here should be nervous, it is me." He continues with a sarcastic look on his face. "I am, after all, the crippled one out of the two of us."

I can't help but smile, my arms falling from my chest so my hands rest against either side of his face, the prickling of his facial hair tickling at my palms.

His lips press to mine again, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip before our tongues collide hotly. My legs lace tighter around him, my center grinding into him to get some friction between my legs as a way to get some relief from the tension building within me.

I need more.

His lips trail down my throat, past my collar bones, and his eyes look up at me darkly before he smirks and presses a teasing kiss to my breast, causing me to arch my back further in to him to try to get his lips and teeth where I want them most at the moment.

He catches on to this, his eyes burning into mine as his tongue traces around my nipple. My lips part to let out a breath of relief as my hands move across his shoulders.

His tongue is soon doing the same sinful routine on my other breast, my gasps and moans his motivation before he presses his lips down each of my ribs, descending to my stomach, and only going lower.

My legs fall from around him due to him holding them open with his hands, staring down between them with glassy eyes that are clouded with lust.

No, we haven't done this in years.

Lips press against my inner thighs in a horribly slow, taunting way.

The first kiss pressed to my core ignites a thousand flames within me as memories flood my mind.

All the nights spent in the middle of the woods somewhere away from our parents, or when one of us would get particularly bold and sneak in to the other's room. We were stupid, love sick, kids. I had only lived fourteen years but now, the two of us are considered adults. Man and woman.

The thought terrifies me.

We can barely look after ourselves. How the hell are we going to lead an entire population of people?

His tongue catches me off guard with one strong lick from my entrance to the nerve endings that send a tremor up my spine. He repeats it, his tongue moving slowly still.

My hands grip the sheets, my back arches and "Ivar" seems to be the only thing I know how to say under my breath.

My hips buck in to him, trying to get him to pick up the pace. He only pulls away with a chuckle, looking up at me with a devilish sparkle in his blue eyes.

"You are just as impatient as you were back then." He comments, taunting me and I narrow my eyes.

"You are just as—ah!" I cut myself short when he gently tugs at my flesh with his teeth before his tongue smooths over it. He's no longer going slow, his arms hooked around my thighs and his hands grasping my sides to hold me down while he feeds off of my flesh the way he wants to.

My calves rub the smooth skin of his back, my hands resting over his as I try to think clearly but I can't.

The tension in me nears release, and I feel like my backs going to break with how much I'm arching it. Tears start rolling down my face as I claw at the backs of his hands, spasms overwhelming me as I finish beneath him.

His chest is puffed up, confidence leaking from his pores as he cleans my skin with his tongue, not letting a single drop of me go to waste.

When he's done, he's moving back up my body to grasp my throat in his hand and kiss me.

"Please, Ivar," my voice is thick with lust when he pulls away from my lips, it's sultry tone almost unrecognizable to me.

I don't have to finish speaking for him to know what I'm asking.

He looks at me the way he's always looked at me when I suggest what I'm suggesting at this moment.

I want more of him.

"Iskra," He whispers in a tired voice, rolling off of me. "I can't. You know I can't."

"We have never really tried, Ivar." I point out.

"I said 'no', Iskra, just drop it!" He snaps at me suddenly and I breathe out and look away from him, not letting his harsh tone bother me.

I cover my body with the wool blanket at the foot of the bed and swing my legs over him to straddle him again, leaning down so our chests are touching and my cheek presses to where his heart's beating.

His hand runs through my hair, fingers massaging my scalp, and my nail draws imaginary pictures on his skin as we lay in silence.

"You could have told me," he finally speaks after nearly an hour, but avoids looking at me.

"It would've crushed you, Ivar."

"But I would have gotten over it." He snaps, his eyes bearing in to mine when he looks at me. "I would not have left you or hated you, Iskra. I worshipped the ground you walked on. There was nothing you could have done that would have made me throw out my plans of being with you the rest of my life." He continues and I furrow my brows slightly. "I would have not talked to you until the baby was born, but I wouldn't have been angry with you the whole time. I would just need the remaining time of your pregnancy to find a way to fit a baby in to my plan for us. I probably would have killed Ubbe, which would have worked out because I would then be the baby's father." The hint of a smile ghosts over his lips briefly. "We would have gotten married after the baby's birth so our wedding night wouldn't have been interrupted with sickness or weird food cravings...not to mention I wouldn't be able to participate in the ceremony without speaking to you which we already established I would not have done until after you gave birth." He goes on. "Elska, if it were a girl. Baldur, if it were a boy. But both would be trained to be great warriors." He tells me, a sightly solemn look on his face. "I would have despised you. I would have resented you for years to follow, possibly, but I would have gotten past it and I would not have left you if you had my brother's child."

"Why not?" I can't help but ask him, my throat thick with on coming tears of shame mixed with shock.

"Because the two of us love each other, even when we hate each other." He says, not meeting my eyes. "I do not think we have even known this but I have realized that is how it has always been between us, and how it will always be."

"So you love me even when you hate me." I repeat, my voice cracking, a tear rolling down my cheek and he wipes it with his thumb.

He smiles faintly, his hand in my hair tugging my lips to his for a brief moment before he kisses my forehead and lets me rest against him as I drift off to sleep.

My whole body is set a flame.

Stinging.

Irritating.

Burning.

Water so cold it feels as if I'm being hit with scalding bricks that weigh me down easily.

My lungs fill with the freezing liquid, engulfing my innards in as much chilling fire as the rest of my body.

I force myself not to struggle, opening my eyes to see the glow of the moon radiating through the ceiling of ice above my head.

My eyes look below me, deep water appearing black underneath me. The slow movement of something catches my attention, a fish perhaps or a group of fish?

A night-cloaked vaporing wisp of a large outline seems to be slithering, as if pacing thirty feet below me. I swear solid white eyes catch the glimmering attention of the moon through the ice, staring up at me, witnessing what I am trying to do.

I blink, trying to see if the trick my mind is playing on me fades but it doesn't. My witness is still glaring up at me.

Ice cracks and warm blood sizzles when it collides with the water, nearly solidifying.

The source of the blood is a pair of shaking hands...perhaps it's Odin coming to take me away to Valhalla.

My eyes close as my mind slowly shuts out that my body wants to go against what I planned.

I hear more breaking of the ice and feel the brief warmth of more crimson, when I'm dragged from the water.

My back hits a sheet of ice, my eyes keep shut and the chilled air around me is hot compared to the water. Cold hands press to my throat, checking a pulse.

It's slow, lack of air and the cool temperature of the water causing blood flow to decrease.

My eyes slowly blink open, water leaving my lungs in a horrid choke. I cough until my throat's raw and blood's being spit out with the remains of water.

I lay back down, taking as many breaths as I can.

Two pairs of eyes are on me, and I look up at Bjorn and Floki.

They look like they're distressed, confused and perhaps scared. I don't think I've ever seen Floki scared.

"Issy," Bjorn whispers, his bloodied hands cupping my jaw. "What are you doing?"

I ignore them, angling my head to see if I've bled out my womb yet. When I see I haven't, I give out a frustrated scream and try to go back through the hole they made to pull me up from.

"Issy!" Floki shouts at me, both arms around my waist as I struggle against him.

I don't listen, elbowing him as hard as I can in the jaw. He doesn't budge, and Bjorn helps him pin me down.

"Issy, Stop this!" Bjorn yells over my shriek.

Now I'm crying, giving up on going back in to the water, my hands over my face at the realization that I will eventually have to tell Ivar what Ubbe and I have done...what sits in my belly and refuses to die.

Bjorn takes his fur off and wraps it around me, picking me up and carrying me off the ice. My entire body is numb, every nerve frozen in place.

We get to the healer's house and she tells them to lay me down and take my wet, cold clothes off.

I don't protest when Bjorn helps me undress and plans to tuck me under piles of wool blankets and furs.

Just as my dress is off though, he sees a giant, streaking, red stain on the white fabric, his face contorting in to worry.

"Iskra, where are you hurt?" He asks, grabbing at me to look over my bare skin to see where I might be bleeding and I feel a solid lump in my throat, my eyes tearing up with shame as I feel another gush of blood come from between my thighs. I stand to avoid getting the healers bed stained, too relieved in the moment to even be worried about Bjorn and Floki seeing me naked.

Their eyes go to my legs as crimson runs down my skin, realization coming to them quickly and they look at each other.

I know Bjorn's seen his mother through many miscarriages, and he's giving me the same heart breaking look he's always given her.

"I thought you and Ivar have never..." Bjorn starts and I see the healer step outside to get some fresh water for me.

"We haven't." I tell them. "Ivar cannot know about this. You two cannot say anything to him." My voice cracks and the two of them are at a loss for words.

"Who is the father—"

"Bjorn, that is not important." I cut him off, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"It is important to me, Issy." He argues and I breathe out raggedly and look at Floki, who's staring at the ground, a shocked expression on his face.

"Floki," I say hoarsely and he looks me in the eyes. "You must promise me neither of you will tell Ivar and neither of you will tell Ubbe. Ever."

They catch on quickly, giving me an even more piteous but disappointed look.

"Issy," Floki starts and I shake my head, not wanting to hear anything from the two of them.

"Promise me." Is all I say, my voice thick with tears.

"No one else will know of this." Bjorn says next, glancing at Floki.

"I promise not to speak of it." Floki assures me lowly and I nod, exhaling as a weight lifts off of my chest.

"Iskra," Delilah's voice breaks through the dream of me reliving my past, my eyes opening to look at her with slight confusion.

I can tell Ivar is no longer beside me, and I tug the covers over my chest before I sit up to face her.

"What is it?" I ask tiredly, yawning and stretching.

"Your brother is looking for you." She tells me. "I figured it'd be better for me to find you naked in bed with Ivar, than for him to find you naked in bed with Ivar."

"He's not even in here." I argue, still half asleep.

"He just left." She informs me. "Get up, it is morning and we have lots to do today. They say the Saxons could attack any day now."

"You say that as if you will be fighting again." I say as she grabs my dress from the floor and shakes it off, smoothing it out before laying it over the bed.

"And why wouldn't I?" She asks hesitantly, refusing to look at me as she continues wandering until she finds my shoes by the door.

"Surely you're not reckless enough to fight with my niece or nephew growing like a weed in your belly." I state and she freezes, her body tensing slightly. "Not that your husband would allow you to do something so foolish in the first place." I add and she looks up at me, licking her lips and narrowing her eyes.

"Did Ubbe—"

"I heard it directly from you while you were arguing with Hvitserk." I explain and she scoffs, stepping to the bed to sit behind me and braid my hair.

"I was going to tell you. I just...I didn't know how." She tells me lowly. "I was afraid you would be upset with me."

"For marrying a pagan?" I snort, smiling at the ridiculous assumption of hers. "Delilah, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm screwing around with one. And we aren't married which makes it worse. At least you aren't defiling a marriage bed every time you lay down together." I remind her. "Unless you got knocked up and had to get married to make yourself feel better."

"No." She's quick to rebuke my suggestion. "Believe it or not we didn't do anything until we married."

"So Virgin Mary isn't a Virgin anymore?" I tease and she gently shoves my shoulder. "How was it?" I ask next.

"How was what?"

"It." I reply and she's silent, probably trying to figure out what I mean. "His..." I clear my throat.

"Iskra!" She scolds and I roll my eyes and look at her over my shoulder. "That is none of your business."

"What? I've only had Ubbe and Ivar—sort of—I never planned on doing anything with Hvitserk so I'll never find out if it's any good so I'm just asking." I defend myself.

She exhales a heavy breath and finishes my hair, standing and crossing her arms.

"He's very skilled." She says smartly. "Use your filthy imagination to figure out what that means and hurry up because your brother is getting impatient."

She leaves me laughing at her innocence and I dress and step outside to find my brother and see where Delilah went.

I find the both of them fighting, the loud clanging of their swords rattling through the air.

Hvitserk is watching them, Kezikai at his feet playing with a fluffy-feathered hen as she pokes at the ground for grain.

Sidka had beaten Delilah the last couple of times they fought, but she managed to get frustrated enough to win.

She extends her hand and helps my brother up off the ground, a proud smirk on her lips.

"I am impressed." Sidka tells me, nodding to Delilah. "Who would expect someone so small to fight so big." He adds.

"I was trained by the best." Delilah says to him, picking her axe up.

"Not so bad for a Christian." Hvitserk says to her with a grin. "Although I expected much more from you." He furrows his brows at my brother teasingly.

"Then why don't you fight her?" Sidka asks him and Hvitserk smirks and looks at me.

"Because I'd much rather put this one on her ass," he motions to me.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try." I grab the sword from Delilah and she chuckles, taking a step back with my brother.

"I'll try to send you back to Ivar unscathed." Hvitserk comments with a wink and I raise a brow.

"Won't be a problem." I shake my head.

He gives me a single nod before our blades meet.

He moves faster than I do, physicality over mentality. I like to map out my moves before I make them, manipulating my opponent by studying their strategy before I find ways to use it against them whereas he doesn't think before he swings a sword or axe, the pure instinct of life and death taking over him.

I've noticed he's like Delilah: calm and collective and easy going regularly, but the second he's in a fight with someone, he only needs milliseconds to be the victor, and those milliseconds are merciless.

We fight for what feels like forever, wearing each other down before my back hits the ground, knocking the breath out of me but the top of my foot tugs at the back of his thigh and pulls him on me, the edge of my axe resting against his abdomen by the time he catches himself with both of his hands on either side of my head.

"And you're dead." I breathe out laboredly and he chuckles, glancing at the axe pressed to him.

He grabs it and discards it, about to get off of me.

A whoosh of heavy air washes between us and we turn to see an axe in the dirt next to us, the blade caught, causing the handle to stick up.

We both look to see Ivar standing with Sidka and Delilah, not pleased with me being under his brother even though it's not the way he thinks.

I'm obviously impressed with Ivar's ability to throw the axe at the perfect angle through such a tiny space, not touching either of us but Hvitserk is annoyed and moves off of me.

He helps me up and we make our way to the three observing us.

Ivar lowers himself to sit on a stool he brought with him, looking me up and down.

"Anyone up to challenge a cripple?" He asks and I raise my brows a little.

"Are you sure?" I ask, unsure, and Sidka and Hvitserk laugh.

"Don't say that like he's helpless, Issy. He's more than capable of combat." My brother warns me and I look at Ivar.

"I'll try to go easy on you." Ivar says to me in a sickeningly sweet manner, sarcasm coating his words.

"Don't." I reply. "I can handle anything you throw at me." I state, leaning in closer to him. "I promise." My voice lowering and he raises his brows.

"Hmm." He hums as he nods, catching the sword Sidka tosses him and Hvitserk hands me his sword off the ground.

"Ready when you—"

I don't have time to finish before he completely shifts himself in to that of a warrior, his skill with a blade making up for what he lacks in his legs.

He's hard to keep up with, harder than Hvitserk, his skill stemming from physicality and mentality. His movements are sharp but his mind is sharper, tracking and assuming every swing of my own sword that I make. I do the same with him, able to keep him from completely winning...up until I start getting tired, my arm starting to get weak from the constant push and pull forced on it while holding the heavy weapon.

Ivar's strength doesn't falter, not that I expect it to being that he's crawled most of his life so his arms could more than likely choke out a bear.

When the sheer force behind his sword suddenly knocks mine to the dirt, several feet away, I look at him, my mouth opened in near shock.

His gaze on me is intense, blade pointed to my throat and his features soften little by little.