Chapter 1

Liv stepped away from her loom and rubbed at the back of her neck, trying to massage the tightness from her aching shoulders. The fire burned low and she scowled at the dwindling wood pile in the corner.

Life had been difficult since Rolf had died, but Liv took great pride in how she had managed to keep herself afloat by selling and trading her textiles in the fishing villages up and down the coast, but she had yet to figure out how to get more efficient at chopping firewood. Rolf had always been the brawn in their relationship.

Her hand dropped to rest on her swollen belly, her wool dress warm beneath her touch, the baby Rolf had planted in her just before his death, kicking in response. Having grown up surrounded by brothers and male cousins, Rolf longed for a little daughter. Liv had been happy to give him one, but since his death, she wanted a boy.

She stepped toward the wood pile, focusing on the rough bark against her hands instead of the sadness that threatened to swallow her up. When the fire flared to life, she hung the pot above the flames, wanting her fish stew to be warm, but not scalding hot when she came back inside. She pulled on her boots and her heavy, fur-lined shawls and headed out into the cold.

Winter was just around the corner, the wind carrying along its frigid kisses, making her shiver. The threat of snow swirled above as dark clouds rolled over her little hut from the west. With one hand on her belly and the other on the small of her back, Liv hurried to the chopping block and picked up a log, cursing herself for being too cheap to pay the woodcutter to split them for her.

Her body warmed as she struggled with the axe, her baby awake and kicking mightily at the new activity. She wrenched the axehead from the fat log she had failed to split and leaned against the handle, cursing as the burnt edge of the sun brushed the horizon.

The frozen landscape stretched out all around her, its bleakness bringing her solitude to the forefront of her mind. Even at the top of her hill, the roar of the sea and the taste of the salt in the air dominated her senses, Ran’s hallowed halls concealed by choppy, gray water.

She poked at her bulging abdomen. “Alright, you. Settle down. It’s going to be dark soon and I can’t concentrate with you stomping on my bladder.”

At the sound of her voice, the child stilled, safe and warm tucked away in her womb before unleashing a torrent of kicks against her side.

She laughed. “That was kind of you. Thank you for moving.”

Boy or girl, Liv prayed to Freya that her child would be as smart as she suspected. And healthy. Both she and Rold had been healthy people, so she wasn’t terribly worried in that regard, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.

She lifted the axe and resumed her futile attempts at splitting logs, abandoning the fat one for smaller, easier-to-manage branches. It only took a few moments before she had to stop and catch her breath.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Liv gasped and spun around, axe held out in front of her, the hair standing on the back of her neck.

A big, blonde Viking, complete with a longsword on his hip and shield on his back, smiled down on her from atop his short, stocky, pale-brown fjord horse. Even without the horse, his wealth was apparent in the bright blue of his tunic, the thick, fur mantle on his shoulders, and fine leather boots.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t trouble you, Sir.”

It was foolish to refuse help, especially from one as big and strong-looking as he, but the kohl around his intense gray eyes gave him a sinister aura, like a wolf who had just cornered an unsuspecting rabbit.

His long braids swayed as he climbed down from his horse. “It’s no trouble. In fact, I’ll chop wood until the sun goes down in exchange for something to eat.”

Liv lowered her axe, snow flurries melting on her cheeks. “That’s more than fair. Although, I will warn you that all I have to offer is fish stew and water.”

He removed his sword belt and shield, hanging them on his saddle. “I’ve lived on cold, salted fish for weeks. Anything hot is a welcome respite.” His eyes never left hers as he approached.

He was much older than she initially thought, the lines around his eyes visible despite the kohl and silver mixed into his blonde hair and beard.

“I am called Torvald.” He reached for the axe with a small smile.

“Oh.” She held out the axe, iron head drooping toward the cold ground. “Liv.”

His fingers brushed hers when he took it. “Pretty.”

Her skin flushed hot and despite her mistrust, she returned his smile, her body’s immediate reaction to a handsome man’s touch after so long not surprising. “Have you been away from home for long?”

He put the fat log on the block, raising the axe high overhead as he stood. “Since summer. My home is a day or two east of here and I will be happy to see it.” He brought the axe down with a grunt, the throaty sound awakening something within her loins. He split the log as if it were a twig.

She hurried to put another on the block before picking up the freshly cut firewood. They fell into a steady rhythm, him chopping and her placing another log on the block before collecting the pieces, the snowfall picking up enough to dust their shoulders and heads.

Liv caught him sneaking looks at her chest, which was concealed, along with her pregnant belly, by her long shawl.

“Do you live alone?”He split a log with a sharp crack, his weight the driving force behind the sharp axe head.

She studied him, deciding she liked his high cheekbones and the way his lips pressed together when he brought the axe down and that the intensity in his gaze was out of desire for her. “Since my husband passed away this past spring.”

His eyes flickered up from his chest to meet hers, expression softening. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m assuming he was a young man?”

She swallowed, the words spilling from her. “He drowned in a fishing accident. I didn’t believe the when they told me. My Rolf was a strong swimmer, but he got all tangled up in his fishing nets when he fell over the side.”

Torvald tapped the butte of the axehead against the block, staring off into the cold, gray distance. He turned toward her, face tight with emotion. He opened his mouth but then closed it with a shake of his head, lifting the axe high.

Liv put a log on the block, stepping away as he brought the head down. The snow continued to fall and so did the darkness. She carried a cord of firewood inside and set it next to the hearth, resting her hand on her belly while she stirred the stew. Even if Torvald didn’t want her after he saw her swollen, heavy belly, his company would be very much appreciated.

She went back outside, Torvald’s loyal mount standing in the same place he had left him, the last rays of sunlight shining weakly through the dark cloud cover. She took a deep breath, nervousness flickering through her as she approached the powerful warrior. “I have a small barn around the other side of my home. I butchered the old goat, so I have no hay, but with the snow coming down and the darkness settling in, you and your horse are welcome to stay the night if you wish.”

He rested the axe on his shoulder, the hungry intensity returning to his gaze as it traveled down her shrouded body. “You are very kind.” He followed her around the back of her home to the barn, leading his horse along by the reins.

She opened the gate to the small paddock and smiled shyly over her shoulder. “I’ll draw some water.”

There was a well a few feet away from the gate, and when Liv came back, taking care not to spill ice-cold water down her front, Torvald already had the horse’s saddle off and a patchy blanket spread over its back.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything for him to eat,” she called.

He looked up from a saddle bag, drawing out a small sack. “He won’t starve. I’ve got enough to get him home.”

She poured the water into a trough and he fed the horse, putting away the sack and slinging the saddlebags over his shoulders, something metal clinking around inside. “This is a fine barn. Solid structure.”

Her gaze fell to his flexing leg muscles beneath his tight breeches as he knelt to pick up his sword and shield. “My husband built it. Come spring, I hope to buy another goat.”

His face fell. “Ran is a cruel goddess to take the lives of the young and leave the old.”

She reached for his shoulder, touching him softly before pulling away. “Who did she take from you?”

He sighed. “My oldest sons, Erik and Oleg, came to raid with me. Erik feasts with Odin after taking a spear to the throat, but Oleg dines with Ran in her watery halls after falling overboard in a terrible storm off the Orkneys. They were never apart when they were alive, but now they must spend the afterlife without each other.”

Her heart grieved for the man. Such events would have broken her completely. No words could give him any kind of comfort, so she gripped his forearm, leading him away from his horse, who drank deeply from the trough. “Come rest by my fire, Torvald. I’ll get you something to eat.”

They walked back around to the front of the house, Torvald laughing when Liv brushed snow from his shoulders and head. Her baby kicked lazily at the top of her stomach as she led him inside.

“May I take a few of your things?” She reached toward him.

“How about a bowl of that fine-smelling stew instead?” He glanced around her tiny, one-room hut, smiling at her loom and pile of blankets and furs on the floor. “You have been busy with your weaving I see.” He knelt to lean his sword and shield against the wall, the saddlebags slipping from his shoulders.

“It’s how I support myself.” She locked eyes with him as she removed her shawl, the tight swell of her stomach protruding from her abdomen.

He froze, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

She turned away, suddenly ashamed, busying herself with bowls. He stood and removed his mantle, hanging it on a hook Rolf had nailed in the wall near the door. She marveled at the broad, sweeping planes of his back as she ladled stew into two wooden bowls.

“Here you go. There’s more if you would like it.” She kept her gaze averted when she handed him the bowl.

“Thank you.” He stroked her bare wrist before accepting the bowl of warm, steaming soup from her, sending pleasant shivers down her whole body. “Come sit with me.”

She left a tiny space between them and he scooted close enough to press his legs against hers, making her heart soar and her pussy throb. She could truly enjoy herself now that all doubt was erased from her mind.

He brought his bowl to his lips, staring at her chest. She leaned against his warmth, taking a sip of her broth.

His eyes widened and he lowered the bowl from his lips, chewing. “Is that a bit of turnip? I haven’t tasted turnip since I left.”

“My neighbor traded a whole sack of them for a bolt of wool.”

He licked his lips, the soft pink of his tongue making her body burn. Hopefully, he knew how to give oral pleasure.

He nodded. “Did your husband ever raid?”

“No. He was only a fisherman by trade and a very practical man in general. It was like he knew how to do everything.”

He poured more stew into his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing. He pushed himself up onto his knees and cupped her belly. “Eat up. Such good food will make your baby strong.” He ladled more into his bowl and sat back down, rubbing her stomach. “It’s no small kindness that your husband put a baby in you before his passing.”

She smiled, sadness mixing in with her desire as she put her hand on his thigh. “I thank Freya for this child every day.”

“When will it come?”

“Two turns of the moon.”

His jaw tightened and his brow furrowed in concern as he chewed. “Do you have a relative coming to care for you? You can’t be out here all alone in the dark in the dead of winter with a newborn.”

She swallowed a chunk of fish, the mild familiar flavor a comfort. “I’m actually going to stay with a midwife for the winter. She will deliver my child and care for me and I will weave and cook for her.”

“A fine arrangement.”

They finished their supper and he took her bowl, setting them by the door to be taken outside and washed before moving to sit down on her pile of blankets. “Will you come help an old man with his boots?”

She crawled over to him, laughing. “You’re not too old.”

“No?” He unlaced his boot, lowering his foot for her.

She pulled it off and massaged his ankle and calf while he unlaced his other boot. “You’re not too old to make a widow blush.”

He cupped her face in his rough hands, massaging her cheekbones with his thumbs before pulling her in for a hot kiss. She gently grasped his wrist and parted her lips so he could slide his tongue over hers. He smelled like a Viking; like the sea, sweat, and death all mingled into one intoxicating musk.

She cupped his groin and he groaned into her mouth, breaking the kiss to fumble at the laces of his breeches. Warm stickiness gushed from her aching pussy, coating the insides of her thighs. He leaned back and slid a hand beneath his clothing, scooping out a huge, veiny semi-hard cock and a heavy set of balls. Liv was going to go to bed with a belly and cunt full of hot sticky cum. It had been too long.

She leaned forward leaving light, fluttery kisses over the length of his shaft and on each of his balls before sucking on his foreskin.

He shivered and lay on his back. “Oh, you sweet girl. Suck the easy one out of me first.”

She pulled his loose foreskin back and forth over his cockhead, kissing and licking his exposed tip, checking for sensitivity before taking it in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around him, running the tip up and down his split, eliciting guttural grunts and groans as his thighs twitched beneath her palms and his cock stiffened in her mouth.

With the tip of his cock still in her mouth, she lay on her side, her feet away from him and her face in his groin, her nose brushing his mound of thick, pale-brown pubic hair. She took the base of his cock in hand and began to bob up and down on his length, smearing her saliva all over his hard shaft, letting herself get completely lost in the manly smell and bitter taste.

Every so often, drops of precum would dribble out of his slit and she would pull back until only his tip was in her mouth licking and sucking at his slit, eager for more of his sexy liquid. He would shudder and grunt, his legs jerking, but she couldn’t squeeze out any more precum.

He propped himself up on his elbow, gripping her by the hair. “How deep can you take me? Take me all the way down your throat and I’ll cum.”

She let his cock pop from her mouth, pumping his slick shaft while she looked up into his lust-filled face. She took a deep breath, smiling and kissing the tip of his cock before taking him deep, her throat closing as soon as his cock breached it. She pulled back, sliding her tongue under his foreskin to make him grunt.

She removed her tongue, lowering her head again, that time gagging and spitting him out. She licked her lips, stroking him while she allowed herself to catch her breath.

He gripped her shoulder, rubbing at the ever-present knot of muscle at the back of her neck. “Take your time. We have all night. Relax and enjoy my cock as much as I am enjoying your mouth.”

She smiled and lowered her hand to massage his balls while she sucked him back into her mouth.

Little by little, Liv took his cock deeper into her throat until she finally pressed her lips around his base. She laid an arm over his hips, using her weight to keep him from moving beneath her, his wild cries making her clit throb with need.