TANARUZ

The voices were hushed.

Lying here in his arms with her head on his chest, the logical and vengeful voices, that for the past two months had sharpened her senses with anxiety, fear and anger, flew from her mind.

She thought back to the moment the voices were silenced.

The moment Ivar pressed her body to his and kissed her.

He kissed her with the urgency of a dying man. He ran his hands over her body with the curiosity and wonder of a blind man. The two created an intoxicating mix and for the first time since her village was attacked, her mind was not thinking of escape.

His husky, lust-laced voice made her feel too many emotions and escape was the last thing on her mind. His roaming hands made her feel that she was both free and vulnerable at the same time. It made her feel both safe and afraid, excited but shy and for the first time in her life someones' touch made her feel beautiful.

Ivar's hands, lips and gaze made her feel like a sacred deity.

Tanaruz wondered if he must see the same emotions in her eyes, for her hands trailed over his perfectly sculpted chest with the such fanatic reverence, if she were in a sane state of mind she would have been ashamed.

But lying with her body curled up against his side she felt no shame at all. All of the voices that would have told her to walk away: to run away, to fear this northman, to reject his touch and his kiss, to reject the hands and lips of someone from the same society as those that ravaged her village and killed her mother were silenced.

His touch created an irresistible current and it dragged her deeper into its depths.

She looked at his sleeping face, his brow not furrowed with pain, worry or concentration. He looked so different, so peaceful. She looked at him and she did not see a fierce warrior, a barbaric Northman or a prince. She only saw the face of a young man her age that made her forget her name when he kissed her, touched her, or even said her name.

Her hand that was under his and resting on his chest, rose and fell with every deep, sleep- steady breath he took. When he almost fell over earlier she felt a sharp splinter of worry pierce her heart. She stayed awake as long as she could, making sure he was still breathing. She was exhausted from the many developments that had occurred in the last three hours but she was used to not sleeping much since nightmares and paranoia usually kept her awake. The voices would always come at night and keep her from sleep.

But the steady motion of his breathing, the warmth of his hard body, and the safety she felt in his arms lulled her to sleep, and for the first time in two months she slept without hate, sorrow and worry in her heart, and the voices were hushed.

IVAR

The early rays of sunlight and the warm body curled against his side woke Ivar the next morning.

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments allowing himself time to just feel.

Feel the soft curves of Tanaruz's body press against his hard ones. Feel her steady breathing wisp across his neck and collarbone. Feel how small her hand on his chest felt underneath his.

Finally the urge to look upon her sleeping face won over and he carefully opened his eyes, afraid that any change in the scene would break the peaceful spell cast from the night before. His turquoise eyes looked down at her face, pressed to the right side of his chest, between his neck and collarbone. Her inky black tresses splayed out across his arm. Her sleeping face was unlined with distrust and fear.

He replayed the events of last night in his mind. The feel of her body on his lap, the curves of her hips and thighs that were pliant and plush in his grip, and her lips that brought him to a sacred place.

These thoughts made him aware of the stiffness growing below his waist, and Ivar had to look down to be sure he was not still dreaming. After his disastrous night with Marguerite he figured that he would never be able to have any intimate relations with a woman. He was baffled for a moment until he remembered how disgusted Marguerite had seemed when he approached her and he was so full of nerves that night, it was no wonder his body did not respond the way it was meant to.

But with Tanaruz, all through last night and this morning, Ivar could forget that he was a cripple. He felt like an ordinary man, waking up with stiff desire for his lover lying next to him.

He carefully placed the hand that was behind her on the middle section of her back, not wanting to wake her but also not able to resist the urge to touch her lush body,

His eyes adored every inch of her and even the furs and her dress could not cover the obvious curves of her body.

Gods, she's like a flower in full bloom, saturated with color, soft and delicate to the touch, and rounded in all the right places. Beside her the women of Kattagat seem like pieces of brittle driftwood. Pale, thin and hard.

I need to savor this. There will be so many problems to face when we leave this house. The king I killed. Explaining where Tanaruz was all night to Helga. Explaining where I was to my brothers. But for now I am just a man gazing at the sleeping face of the woman I love.

A.N. hi guys! thank you all again for the wonderful comments they mean so much for me and keep me going! I hope you guys enjoyed the bonus chapter and this one as well since it is sort of a short but very tender chapter, now on to the morning after!