An Abandoned Mine
"Do your countrymen proud, Nessa," Arnbjorn said. His smile was wicked with meaning. She drank the entire glass of snowberry wine and slammed it down on the table. It was sweet and had the tang of juniper berries. Juniper berries? A man sitting at the table had his back to her. He turned when she slammed her glass on the table. His mouth was covered with a dirty rag.
"Jarl Ulfric?" she asked.
He nodded mutely, his head hung forward as he slumped, but his eyes darted around as if he were looking for an escape. Picking up a knife and fork, he carved his meat.
How will he eat it with a gag over his mouth?
A horse thief sprinted through the inn only to die with an arrow in his back.
Jarl Ulfric looked at a chunk of meat on his fork and shook his head sorrowfully. Nessa felt pity for the man and tried to reach up to remove his gag, but her hands were tied.
No. Talos, no! Not again.
"Who are you?" a Nord dressed in Imperial armor asked her. He consulted his list and looked up at her confused.
"Ulfric can't eat," Nessa said. "He's going to starve."
"She's not on the list," the Nord told his commander.
"It doesn't matter, she goes to the block," the surly female Imperial said.
Not again! Please… not again. Nessa's eyes darted to Ulfric's and he shared a long, sad look with her, shaking his head in sympathy.
The Nords began lining up. Two long rows formed up and Nessa was the second in line in her row. She turned around and looked back. There must be hundreds, thousands even and she would be the second. Tears sprang to her eyes. Astrid! She'll never know what became of me. I'll just disappear, like a pet kitten carried off by a cave bear. Maybe I can tell them to send my remains to her. She is the only person who loves me. A terrible memory crossed her mind. No, she doesn't love me. I will die unmourned.
The first Nord was called to the block and he practically skipped up to it and cheerfully laid his neck across it. The executioner raised his axe and…
Nessa looked away but she could still hear the sound of the axe cleaving through meat and into the block.
"Next!" The pitiless Imperial woman beckoned to her. "One less Nord whore to tempt away the good men of the Imperium," she said. Sneering, she gave Nessa a vicious shove toward the block when her feet dragged.
She looked up into the sky. It was completely blue. The Imperial kicked the backs of her knees to make her fall to them. It was all she could do to keep herself from sobbing. Does Sovngarde await me? She was no warrior, just a thief and now an assassin. Would she be a slave to Sithis for all eternity?
"Head on the block," the mean Imperial lady shouted.
She sucked in a deep breath and looked at the bloody block before her. It was covered in a fresh blood and bits of… something awful. "Could you clean it off first?" she asked the black-hooded headsman.
He shook his head and pointed at the block.
She looked at Ulfric, third in line, and he looked at her, his eyes still clouded with useless sorrow. She laid her head down, stretching her neck over the block, then, turning her eyes up they met the eyes of her executioner. Amber. Those eyes! The black mask covered his face but she could see a little of his mouth, it was framed by white hair. Pale hair also hung down the back of his neck. Arnbjorn?
He winked at her.
Divines be praised, it is him! He's going to save me.
"Be ready," he mouthed soundlessly.
She nodded and tensed her legs, ready to spring away.
He raised the axe above her head and suddenly he changed into a dark eyed, dark haired Imperial. The sun glinted off the axe as it fell toward her neck.
~o~o~o~
Nessa sat bolt upright, her scream still ringing in her ears. Her heart felt like it might leap out of her chest. She began to scramble out of the bedroll, still immersed in the dream, trying to escape the furs that her legs were caught in.
"Bit?" Arnbjorn sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She tried to struggle briefly. He could feel her heart pounding against his arm. "What's wrong, Nessa?"
She turned and looked directly at him. Slowly the horror of the dream vanished and already the details were fading. She sagged against him and gave up trying to get away. "I dreamed of Helgen." She thought she was done with the dreams. They'd haunted her for weeks afterward but then stopped. Why was she having them now? "I used to dream about it a lot."
Arnbjorn recognized the look and fear-stink of a wounded mind that won't heal. He'd had his share of them, and he knew that thousand-yard stare. Astrid had pried those memories out of him, like digging a thorn deeply buried in his paw. But it hurt like hell; brought it all back fresh and bloody as the day it all happened. His mind bled all over again, but then he'd healed. "Tell me about it, bit," he said.
Nessa shook her head. "No use. It's over." She blinked and her eyes refocused on Arnbjorn. He's in my bedroll! She suddenly realized her head was throbbing from something other than the bad dream and there was a large gap in her memory. She gasped and tried to scrabble out of the bed again.
"Whoa, bit! Settle down. What's wrong?" Arnbjorn tightened his grasp on her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"I… Why are you in my bedroll?" She could feel… him against her. Gods! What will Astrid say?
Arnbjorn smirked. "Why do you think I'm in your bedroll? Don't tell me you don't remember?"
Nessa's eyes narrowed as she tried to recollect. She remembered kissing, lots of kissing. Yes, she had kissed the Imperial captain. Then she remembered more kissing. "Oh, Talos," she sighed. Then she turned to face him, suddenly furious. "You took advantage of me! I was drunk." She tried to pull her arm free but Arnbjorn still had his arms over hers. The struggling made her head hurt even more.
He wasn't about to let go her now, he was sure she'd punch him. "Really, bit? You think I'd take advantage of you in your drunken state? You wound me. Besides, if we had made love, you'd know."
She stopped struggling and took an inventory of her body. Her head was pounding and her cheek hurt, but she didn't hurt anywhere else. After she'd slept with that soldier, she had hurt and there had been a nasty damp spot under her all night long. "I suppose so, I don't hurt down there."
"Hm. Your other lover must have been idiot, Nessa. Trust me, it might have hurt the first time as he broke your maidenhead, especially if you weren't ready. It won't the next time, if your lover is skilled." He loosened his grip on her and brushed his thumb back and forth over her waist. She relaxed a little, turning her head forward again. Her shoulder, and the juncture where it met her neck, was temptingly close. "And he is." He kissed her lightly at that spot and saw her give a little shiver in response.
"This can't happen, Arnbjorn. Astrid would kill us both. And… I still love her. This feels wrong." That last part was something of a lie. A part of her wanted to stay true to Astrid, even though she'd rejected her, but she couldn't deny she was attracted to Arnbjorn. Sitting like this, with his arms around her, she felt safe. The panic of the dream was long forgotten already and now she just wanted him to kiss her in that spot again.
One of Arnbjorn's hands let go of her waist and rose to her hair. He moved aside several of her braids and kissed another spot on her neck. She wasn't trying to escape him. "I love her too, bit, but neither of us can have her." He could smell the beginnings of her arousal. That was a smell he loved more than any other. If for no other reason, this was why he loved being a wolf.
Arnbjorn kissing her neck was distracting her. She should put a stop to this now. His mustache, so soft, dragged across her nape and then he nipped her ever so softly. "Stop," she whispered.
He let go of her, drawing his arms away and backing up from her. "As you wish. But do you really wish that?"
She turned around on the bedroll to face him, kneeling with the furs over her legs but her torso exposed to him. He'd seen her naked a few times, it never seemed to faze him and she'd grown very used to seeing him naked, it almost didn't seem noteworthy but for the fact she'd been wrapped in his arms a few moments ago. "Why are you doing this? You should hate me. I'm the reason for the problem between you and your wife, aren't I?"
"By that logic, shouldn't you hate me too, bit? We're both rivals for her affections. I know her better than you, though. I've always stood by her when she's had other lovers. Eventually her interest fades and she comes back to me."
"Why didn't it happen this time, Arnbjorn? Why did we both lose her?" It still made no sense to her.
"Because she loves you and she can't have you without killing you. It frustrates her. She likes being in charge and her feelings for you make her go out-of-control. So she'll deny she has feelings. And that, unfortunately, affects us both." Nessa looked so conflicted and confused; he had an overwhelming urge to wrap her back up in his arms.
"It is my fault. I don't know how it happened, even. It wasn't my intent to take her from you." Her eyes began to redden and she blinked. "I thought you would hate me." Then she sniffed loudly and her face crumpled. "I'm so sorry, Arnbjorn. If there is anything I can do to put it right again I will do it." She began to cry in earnest, feeling the full weight of guilt for having broken up their marriage. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
"Shush, bit," Arnbjorn said, his voice was calm. He gathered her to him again. "I already told you, it isn't your fault."
His gentleness made her cry even harder. He shouldn't forgive her. It would be so much easier if he just hated her as she deserved. She buried her face against his shoulder and wept.
He patted her back and rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades with his hand, trying to soothe her. This was something he'd never done for Astrid. She was a pillar of steel. She wouldn't ever be this vulnerable for anyone. Not even him. It tugged at his emotions, to have a creature this emotionally delicate seeking comfort from him. He could understand why Astrid loved her. "Well, you see, bit, perhaps there is something we can do."
Nessa caught her mid-sob and pulled her face out of his chest. "What?" Her heart gave a painful twist in her chest. She had said she would do whatever he wanted to get Astrid to go back to him. That would close the door to Astrid forever. It was the right thing to do, though, and she would do it.
"The key to making Astrid happy is to give her whatever she wants, and what she wants is you."
Nessa looked confused. "But you said she'd kill me?"
He nodded. "Yes. But she won't kill me. For whatever reason, my werewolf blood protects me from losing myself to her completely. So, it's obvious isn't it, morsel?" He lifted her chin so she would look him directly in his eyes. "Don't you see it?"
She shook her head.
"She needs us both. She can't have you without me there to stop her from killing you." He looked at her intently. "I think perhaps the gods sport with us as if we were their private parts."
Nessa laughed through her tears at the joke. "You're serious, aren't you? Are you proposing that the three of us…together?"
The corner of his mouth twisted up, ever so slightly. "I am. I needed to see first if you and I could come to like one another enough to do this. I've answered that question for myself. Now you need to ask yourself if you could let this brutish Nord make love to you."
Nessa's eyes were huge in her face and her mouth was agape in amazement. "I…" Her brain refused to process any further speech. A moment ago she had promised Arnbjorn she'd do anything to help him get Astrid back, but this… This had never crossed her mind. I promised. "Do you think it will work? Will she agree to it?"
Arnbjorn shrugged. "I think there's a good chance it might. If she sees us together she might get a bit jealous."
Nessa's brow furrowed. "She won't kill us?"
"Not a chance. We're too useful as assassins, if nothing else. She's far too practical to waste our talent and training."
She sat still as a statue for a moment, her brain churning over this development. It was true, she liked Arnbjorn. Over the course of this week she even found herself attracted to him. More importantly, she had said she would do whatever she could. If becoming his lover was what it took, she would do it. She set her jaw stubbornly. "I will do it."
There was something stoic in the way Nessa said it, like she was preparing to lose a limb or suffer twenty lashes. "You don't have to, bit." He shrugged. "I don't think it's going to work if we're not both completely at ease with the notion. Astrid won't be fooled."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This idea is new to me, Arnbjorn, it'll just take some time for me to get used to it. I do… like you. Even in that way, a little." She paused a moment and tossed away the fur covering her legs. "Should we… You know?"
Arnbjorn's eyebrows rose up his forehead and his eyes slowly traced over her body. She had a long smear of dirt on the side of her face from where she'd fallen asleep under the horse. The stink of fear from her dream was gone but there was no scent of arousal now. Now that she had made up her mind to it, he would take his time with her.
"Not yet," he said. There was regret with the words. He wasn't a seducer and subtlety wasn't his strength. A desirable woman offering her body was gratification best not delayed. A wolf mated when he could, but a man had to wait sometimes. It would be best, he knew, to continue what he'd been doing. Her mind was committed, but her heart wasn't.
Nessa looked puzzled. Hadn't this been what he had been hinting at for days? "I don't understand you, woof. A few minutes ago I thought you were trying to get what I just freely offered."
Arnbjorn's laughter was a low rumble. "Patience, bit." He said nothing more.
She sighed with irritation and stood up. Her headache throbbed with the movement and her stomach tossed a bit. She rubbed her face with her hand and it came away dirty. "What's on my face?"
"Dirt. You fell asleep under Shadowmere. I had to carry you to bed."
No wonder he turned her down, she thought. She was a mess. She didn't smell so good either. She rummaged through her pack and found her soap and some clean clothes, then stalked outside to find water and bathe.
~o~o~o~
When they resumed their journey Arnbjorn transformed and ran alongside the horse. It'd been the first time in days that he hadn't ridden with her on the horse and she found herself wondering why, now that they'd agreed to become lovers, he was staying away. Even though it wasn't particularly cold, she found she missed the warmth of his body.
Every time she looked for him he was trotting alongside the horse. He would look up at her, with a particular look that almost made it seem like he was laughing. Wolves can't laugh. Still, it was annoying. She finally decided to ask him.
"Why are you a woof today?"
He looked up at her, that goofy wolf look on his face, but he said nothing, of course.
Arnbjorn could understand her, of course, what he couldn't do was shrug or talk. He'd probably just shrug if he weren't a wolf. It would irritate her, most likely. He didn't have a great strategy laid out for her seduction other than to keep her off-balance. It seemed to be working. She looked a little restless as she kept shifting around in the saddle.
"You wanted some exercise, I bet. Is that it?" She looked over at him and just saw the dog grin again. "That must be it," she murmured to herself. "Running would feel good to a dog."
Dog? Arnbjorn heard her comment to herself and growled at her. I'm a woof… wolf. Dammit, she's got me saying it now.
Nessa locked eyes with him, his fur was standing up. "You don't like being called a dog?" She laughed, a smile splitting her face. "You get mad at me if I call you a woof or a dog." She rode silently for a moment. "Wuh-luf. Gotta call you a wuh-luf to make you happy, don't I?"
Arnbjorn eyed her but continued to trot along.
"You're a damned picky, wuh-luf, if you ask me. I could go up to twenty other woofs anywhere in Skyrim and they wouldn't care if I called them dogs, woofs or wuh-lufs, they'd just try to rip my throat out all the same." She watched him running a moment then had more questions. "How come you look like an ice woof? Is it because you're a Nord or because you have white hair as a man?"
Arnbjorn ignored her since he couldn't answer her.
"If you'd had dark hair would you have looked like a brown woof?" Now that she thought about it, she had a lot of questions she wanted answered. "How did you become a woof anyway? Did another werewoof bite you? Is it like the vampire disease? Or perhaps you were cursed from birth! Or maybe you stumbled into a coven of witches and they did it… I bet that's it. They wanted you to father their babies and you refused because they were ugly, so they cursed you." She laughed at her made up tale.
Arnbjorn chuffed in exasperation and then barked at Shadowmere. The horse, understanding his desire, broke into a cantor nearly jarring Nessa out of her seat. She had to concentrate on riding and that stopped the flow of questions.
It wasn't a long day of travel, that day, for which Nessa was grateful. She was still feeling slightly out-of-sorts from all the snowberry brandy and that dream still haunted her. He had told her they would come across a mining village with an inn today. She had been hoping to see it over every rise and when it did finally appear on the horizon she let out a whoop and spurred Shadowmere into a gallop, but it was cut short with an order barked by Arnbjorn that the horse seemed to understand.
She sighed heavily and dismounted when Shadowmere stopped.
Arnbjorn transformed and glared at Nessa. "Did you think I could just run into town as a wolf? Or would you have me stride into the inn naked?"
Nessa struggled to keep a smile off her face. "I forgot. Sorry. I was just thinking of having a real bed and a hot bath. Maybe some stew and mead."
Arnbjorn rummaged through his pack looking for clothes. "Aye. Been thinking on it a bit myself." He pulled on his clothes and even put on boots. He unloaded all their gear from Shadowmere and slapped her on the flank. "Go forage, girl."
Nessa squinted at Arnbjorn in confusion. "Why not put her in the stable?"
"You and I would be marked as owning a horse of the Daedra. Besides, Shadowmere hates stables. She can take care of herself out here. She'll come when we call her."
Marveling again at the horse, Nessa followed Arnbjorn down the hill leading to the valley containing the little mining village.
~o~o~o~
A woman showed Nessa to their room while Arnbjorn ordered their meal and a hot bath. She unpacked their bags and looked at their dusty, dirty clothing and decided that someone would have to wash them before they left. She rolled up all their clothes, save the ones they were wearing, into her bedroll and went off in search of a washerwoman, stopping to tell Arnbjorn where she was going.
He nodded approvingly. They'd been on the road a long time and everything they had to wear was dirty. Besides, getting Nessa away from their room would give him time to prepare. He picked up a vase of dragon's breath from the innkeepers countertop. The fiery orange blooms smelled sweet. "Put it on my tab."
He finalized his list of needs with the innkeeper and went to their room. He had ordered just the one room, their biggest, and it had a large bed in it and a tub built of stone in an adjoining room. A servant came into the room and turned a handle and hot water began to fill the tub.
"It'll take a few minutes, sir. We've had the water heating all day so it's ready now. Be careful and let it cool some, it'll scald the skin off a pig, right out of the pipes, sir," the servant said.
When the tub was full of steaming water the servant left. There was a fresh cake of scented soap and some linen sheets they could use to dry off.
Arnbjorn took his shirt and boots off and lay down on the bed. In a few minutes the servant returned with a tray of food. He'd ordered liberally from what they had in the kitchen. The stew and bread smelled great, but more importantly were the berry and custard tarts. Six warm tarts sitting in two neat rows. Their fragrance wafted directly to his nose and made his mouth water.
Before leaving the servant started a fire in their hearth. It was the middle of the day, but not too warm for a fire. Nords could tolerate the cold, true, but they loved to be warm. Arnbjorn opened the large bottle of Black-Briar Mead and poured two glasses. He passed by the tray of food and the tarts seemed to call his name. He meant to wait until Nessa returned, but he couldn't resist. He picked up one of the tarts, still warm from the oven, and took a large bite out of it. The sweet, berry filling was piping hot and he washed it down with a long gulp of mead.
This is the life. Someday he would retire and eat his fill of tarts; he swore it to Hircine, the Daedric lord of the hunt. He heard Nessa's voice and crammed the rest of the tart into his mouth, chewing and swallowing hastily. He was reclining on the bed when she came into the room.
"Oh!" She looked around the room. It was golden in the firelight and smelled sweetly of dragon's breath flowers. There were delicious smells as well, and two glasses filled with mead, one half empty. Then she noticed the tub filled with water. She turned to Arnbjorn, who was lying nonchalantly on the bed, propped up on an elbow without his shirt. She felt a flush of warmth that started at her chest and ran up to her cheeks. "This is… wonderful!"
She sat on the edge of the bed, next to Arnbjorn. Got to start somewhere. She mustered her nerve and bent to kiss him. He tasted like berries and mead. He kissed her back. It was a gentle, restrained kiss, nothing like the passionate kiss before he'd gone into Rorikstead. She didn't know why he was being so restrained now that she'd made up her mind. He could have her at any time, why the delay?
"You ate a tart," she said. She pulled away from him then saw the crumbs in his beard.
"No, I didn't."
She gasped. "You're a bald-faced liar! I can see the crumbs in your beard and you tasted of elder berries!" She got up and walked to tray of food. "There are five tarts here. Why five when there are two of us? Doesn't it seem like an even number would make more sense?" She turned around and shook her finger at him. "I say you stole a tart!"
He grinned at her and stood up. "All right, I ate a tart." He walked over to the tray and picked up another berry tart. "This one can be yours." He held it up to her mouth.
She inhaled the sweet, fruity scent of it and smiled. It wasn't snowberry. Since the night before, with all the snowberry brandy she drank, she didn't think she could face them now. She took a delicate bite out of the tart. It was sweet, warm and thick in her mouth. She chewed slowly, closing her eyes and swallowed, a sensuous smile growing on her face. "Oh, that's so good." She held his arm steady and took another bite, then another. Finally for the last bite she wrapped her lips around his fingers and pulled it from his grasp.
Arnbjorn was fascinated with the expression on her face as she relished the last bit of tart. She closed her eyes and her licked the last bits of tart from her lips. She sighed contentedly and smiled. "Fair now?" he asked.
Nodding, she said, "I should probably take a bath." She looked regretfully at the food.
"The food will go cold. Eat first, then we can bathe."
They sat down at the small table in their room and set to the food like they hadn't eaten in weeks. Truly, traveling food wasn't very tasty. It usually lacked spices and proper seasoning. It was designed to fuel the body, not nourish the soul. The inn's food wasn't extraordinary but Nessa thought it was some of the best she'd ever had. They stuffed themselves full and there was still some food left for later.
Arnbjorn's fondness for tarts hadn't gone unnoticed by Nessa. She only ate one more and let him have two more. One lone tart was left sitting on the tray and Nessa couldn't help but see the glances he gave it. "You can have it," she said, relinquishing her claim. "I'll take my bath now."
He grunted his thanks and ate the tart while watching Nessa undress. There was something purposeful in the way she undressed. Her shoulders and arms emerged slowly as she skimmed off the leather cuirass. Then she wriggled rather a lot as she skimmed off her leather leggings. She peeked at him once and smiled shyly. She was certainly learning the role that Astrid had chosen her for. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? Was she playing the part she thought she had to play or did she really want him? His keen sense of smell told him she was acting. Yet, there had been times it hadn't been an act. For a few moments this morning… There was plenty of time. No need to rush it. But watching her undress tested his resolve.
"I'm going for a walk," he said and then he left abruptly.
Nessa let the last piece of clothing fall to the ground. "Gods damn him!" She picked up a boot and flung it at the door. She kicked her pile of armor out of the way and climbed into the tub. "Stupid man," she grumbled. What sort of a game is he playing? She thought back over everything since she'd woken up that morning and couldn't think of any reason for his seeming reluctance.
The water was hot and it defused her temper quickly. She unfastened her braids, dropping her ribbons beside the tub, and then washed her hair with the bar of scented soap and rinsed it thoroughly. Then she slumped down into the bath until it covered her up to her chin. Muscles she hadn't realized were tight began to relax. Somehow her left shoulder was sore. Maybe she'd slept on it wrong. Between the fullness of her belly and the heat of the water she nearly dozed off, but Arnbjorn returned and that jarred her back to wakefulness.
He said nothing but strode over to the tub and crouched down beside her. "I'll wash your back, bit." Taking the bar of soap, he gently rubbed it over her back. It always surprised her how gentle he could be with his hands; they were so massive and strong. She lifted her hair and he scrubbed the back of her neck. It was the first hot bath she'd had since they left the sanctuary and she hated to get out but she did get out and dried herself off.
The tub was something of a marvel, having a drain and a sluice the filled it with hot water. Arnbjorn reached in and drained it, refilling it from the sluice. He shucked his clothes and got in. The water was nearly scalding, but he sunk into it and sighed deeply. "This makes me homesick for Sanctuary."
"Aye. I've grown fond of that hot spring, but this is nearly as good." She slipped into her nightgown since her other clothes were being washed and she didn't want to wear her armor again. She openly watched Arnbjorn bathe and got up to sit beside the tub. She reached over and took the bar of soap from him and began to wash his back. She sluiced water down his back to rinse the suds off. "Wet your hair," she said. "I'll wash it for you."
Arnbjorn snorted softly, not really wanting to have his hair washed. "I don't want to smell like flowers."
"It will fade soon enough. Wet your hair," she ordered.
He grumbled but sunk under the water for a moment and reemerged with water streaming off his head and beard.
She rubbed the bar over his hair and even into his luxurious beard.
"Mind the beard, woman," he growled. No one messed with Arnbjorn's beard.
"It had bits of your dinner in it. Although, I suppose you could have been saving them for leaner times." She massaged his scalp with her fingers, working the soap into a sweet smelling lather. "You could boil your beard and serve a hearty stew." She laughed at the image of Arnbjorn's beard floating in a stewpot.
Arnbjorn grumbled, but didn't object when she lathered up his beard and massaged it with her fingers. When she finished he plunged underwater and rinsed off the soap.
"There, all evidence of your tart theft is gone." She flattened his beard against his face and examined him. "You'd look ten years younger if you shaved that off."
Arnbjorn moved quickly, grabbing her hand off his beard. He yanked her close. Her nightgown sleeve trailed into the water and she shrieked. "Ease that notion out of your head," he growled. "I'll not shave my chin like one of those Imperial milk drinkers."
Nessa righted herself and wrung the water out of her sleeve. "Why? Do you have a weak chin?"
The splash sent a sizeable wave washing out of the tub. Nessa looked at him with shock. Sputtering and swearing, her nightgown now thoroughly soaked, she looked like a drowned rat. The look on her face was priceless. Whatever penalty he might face for pulling her into the tub was well worth it.
"You… you..." She stood up, water dripping from her nightgown. "You!" She was at a loss for words. "What am I going to wear to bed now? Everything else is being laundered." She pulled the soaked nightgown over her head and threw it on the floor. Her towel was wet so she used his. "You can use a wet towel, for that!"
It was still early, but now she had nothing to wear, so she crawled into bed and plaited her hair while glaring at him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. Stupid woof! She finished braiding her wet hair and burrowed into the bed. It was much too early to go to bed yet, but she had a feeling she would sleep anyway.
Arnbjorn dried off and crawled in on the other side. He felt much better having eaten and bathed. Nessa's shoulder poked out of the covers. He admired the delicate slope, pale skin, and lean muscle. He moved a bit closer. It wouldn't hurt to test the waters and she how she responded. He touched her shoulder and gently drew his hand up to her neck. "Bit. You mad?"
"Oooh!" she said, making her temper apparent. She turned over in the bed to face him. "You're still a rude woof. I thought maybe you'd be nicer to me now."
Her scowl was visible even in the dim light of the room. "Aw, bit. I was just playing. You were teasing me about my beard, it was only fair." They were definitely going to have to figure out how to connect if this was going to work.
She sighed and her face relaxed. "I never know what to expect from you, Arnbjorn. You say you want us to become lovers, I agree, and then you stay away from me. I think you're toying with me."
He snorted quietly. "I'm just trying to figure you out, tidbit. I think you said yes out of a sense of duty or guilt. That isn't going to work."
Nessa frowned again. He was right, but not entirely. "This whole thing seems too contrived. Lovers don't plan their courtship in advance. Someone pursues and someone else gets caught. That's how it's supposed to work." Her voice was full of certainty. That had been how it had happened with Astrid. She'd shown her interest in little touches and glances at first, then she'd seized the opportunity and caught Nessa in the web of her seduction.
"So that's it. You want to be pursued, like prey. Well… Hircine is the lord of the hunt and I'm his." His smile took on a predatory quality. Nessa was young, inexperienced, of course she'd have opinions formed of little more than fantasy.
"I meant it figuratively, Arnbjorn." She rolled onto her back and picked up a braid and played with it so she wouldn't have to look at him. How could he be so dumb and yet be Astrid's husband?
Much like she'd been pulled into the tub before she was even aware of it, he sprang quickly and trapped her underneath his torso. His hair, still damp from his bath, hung down on either side of her face. For one moment he indulged in that predatory grin and then he kissed her.
She tensed under him and put her hands on his shoulders to push him off, but the kiss stole her breath away. Well, finally! He wasn't all just talk. Relaxing into the kiss she opened her mouth and her tongue met his. There was that element of brutishness to him that was so different from Astrid, but her appreciation of his differences was growing. The hands that were going to push him away crept around his neck and then down his back.
He broke away from her, his smile gone now. "Did I catch my prey?" he asked with a voice huskier than usual.
"Aye," she whispered. "Don't stop."
He flung the sleeping furs off of them and leaned over her, drawing his eyes along her body. The glow of the fire made her look almost golden. He traced a finger from her ear, down her neck, across her collar bone and then down to a nipple. Bending over her he drew it into his mouth and teased it with his tongue and lips. At last! There was the unmistakable redolence of female excitement. His eyes narrowed and he growled subvocally.
Something flashed in Arnbjorn's eyes and Nessa caught just the hint of the wolf that lurked within him. She knew then that sex with Arnbjorn wasn't just about pleasure, it was about ownership. Maybe that's why he'd been so reticent. A man could lie with many women and never lay claim to them, but wolves were monogamous. What he was doing would go against his nature as a wolf. The thought of his dual nature cut off abruptly as he nipped at her neck and fondled her breasts. She ran her hands down his sides and drew them over his buttocks, feeling the strong muscles that powered his legs.
Slowly he worked his way down her torso to the home of the tantalizing scent she exuded. If she'd been another wolf he'd already have jammed his nose into the source and filled his nostrils with her. When he nipped the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs she parted them for him with a wordless moan. Then the hovered over her breathing in her essence, tasting her with his sensitive nose first, then his mouth.
Nessa recanted the terrible things she'd said about Nord men with small, wordless prayers as he skillfully found all the spots that made her squirm with pleasure. She laced her fingers through his long, damp hair and held on. Her heels dug into his shoulders as he pleasured her. Her fingers began to tighten, pulling at his hair, and her back arched. So close!
He pulled his face away. "Nord men are rough and brutish, morsel?" He smiled at her as she raised her head from the bed noting the look of dismay she wore.
The peak that was so incredibly close was receding quickly. "No!" She shook her head to emphasize. "Not you, Arnbjorn. Gods, no!"
He casually drew his fingers across her to keep her aroused. "Tell me what you want, tidbit." He worked his way up her body and leaned over her, his fingers continuing to massage her.
"This… I want…" she fumbled looking for the proper thing to say. Her face grew hot under his scrutiny and his fingers intensified their patterns over her. "Oh, divines," she pled to the nine. "Talos! Just…"
"Do you want me in you?" he asked.
She hesitated a moment then nodded.
"Then ask me."
"Arnbjorn, please… I want you."
He nodded once and leaned in to kiss her, positioning himself between her legs. Taking his time, he teased her. Her breath caught each time he stroked himself against her. Then he slowly entered her, watching her expression. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and then she smiled, shutting her eyes as she adjusted to him. He moved ever so gradually allowing her to become used to him. He knew he had her when he was fully sheathed and she wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move herself.
"Are you all right, bit?" he asked. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.
She nodded and cracked her eyes to look at him. "It feels… good."
"That's good," he said. It was good. Very good. Her athletic body fit him well. He could feel her strong muscles rippling around him. He swallowed hard, trying to hold back and go slowly, but she was pushing against him in counterpoint, urging him on with nails that dragged across his back. He wanted this to be good for her, so he stopped and repositioned her on her stomach, with her behind in the air.
She looked back at him, a puzzled expression on her face nearly made him laugh. Her inexperience was amusing at times. He took her again, this time more swiftly.
She gasped as he filled her. The first way had been nice, but this was something else again. His arm wrapped around her hips and with his free hand he began to caress her again. "Oh, sweet divines," she breathed. Her breath came in pants, interspersed with moans as he thrust. The tension built rapidly and, almost as a complete surprise to herself, she froze, her muscles locked in ecstasy. She shouted out to one of the divines, she wasn't sure which one. Her body trembled with the force of the release and then she slumped to the bed with her muscles still twitching.
Arnbjorn twisted her to her side and lifted her leg and reinserted himself. His thrusts were rapid now. It was only a short while until he felt that pressure building between his legs and then found sweet release within her. He slumped over her and the sweat on their bodies intermingled in a final act of intimacy.
"Tidbit." He kissed her at the base of her throat where he could see her pulse. He pushed himself off her so she wouldn't have to bear his weight.
She groaned wordlessly and opened her eyes to watch him contentedly. "I take it all back, Arnbjorn."
"Good." He pulled her so her head rested against his chest. He felt a few moments of guilt as he realized he'd been unfaithful to Astrid for the first time, but the thought that his wife had also been unfaithful with the same girl eased his remorse.
Nessa also felt guilty, but the languor she felt nestled against the Nord werewolf overwhelmed those thoughts and she fell into a deep, restful sleep with his arms around her.
~o~o~o~
Thanks for the reviews, my dear readers! Please keep them coming, they're like Dulce de Leche on ice cream: very yummy!
Nessa and Arnbjorn don't entirely understand each other, but I think they'll find new and interesting ways to resolve their disagreements in the future. Next chapter we may get a peek into what is going on back at the sanctuary and perhaps a peek into what mischief Brynjolf is up to.
My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin for pointing out my typos and sentences that make no sense at all. And I think them for being good buddies and prodding my muse, laughing at my stupid jokes and such.
There may be a bit of slowness updating this the next time. I've been getting requests for some more Lucy fics and I am half-way through a delicious troika of something that definitely never happened at Ostagar. Nope. Absolutely not. Never, ever... It will be posted in the "The Lost Chapters".
Now, where did I put that bar of soap?