Nena by Ann Boelter (red white royal blue txt) 📗

so long? He’d no sooner thought the words when the tent flap lifted and a lithe Dor woman entered. She had the same bronze skin, the same almond eyes and high cheekbones as his captive, but the similarities ended there. Altene’s hair was neatly braided in multiple small braids, and her dress was made from a sheer pale blue gauzy material that swirled around her, accentuating her feminine curves. The biggest difference in the two women, though, by far, was that Altene’s eyes were warm and inviting.

She smiled at him and began to undo the dress clasp behind her neck when she spied the other woman bound to the pole. She hesitated, confused, and bowed her head. “Apologies, my lord. I came as soon as I was summoned. Am I too late? Have you chosen another?” she asked.

“No.” Jarl covered the distance between them in two strides and pulled the clasp from her fingers. Without waiting for her dress to hit the floor, he scooped her up and carried her to the furs, tossing her to the place where he had wrestled with his captive only moments before. Altene giggled with relief as Jarl stripped out of his bloodied tunic and trousers and joined her. He pulled her head back by her braids and nuzzled her neck, then bit her ear before he turned her away and grabbed her by her hips. Altene moaned with pleasure as he drove deep inside her with one solid thrust.

Nena had been thrilled to see the other Dor woman arrive. She identified her by the olive branch tattoo on her upper arm as Klarta tribe. That was disappointing; Klarta were known to be a weaker tribe, but at least she was Dor. As such, she must also be a prisoner, and her hands were not bound. Even a Klarta should be able to find some weapon, kill him when he was distracted, then free them both. Nena’s thrill turned to shock and disgust as they brushed by her on their way to the bed.

Surely they weren’t going to…not with her right there—like two animals in rut. How could a Dor woman, even a Klarta, willingly lay with a Northern dog? She couldn’t, was the only logical answer. It had to be a ruse. This new woman had no weapon other than her teeth and was simply luring him into a false sense of security until opportunity presented itself. Perhaps she intended to bite out his throat. Yes, that had to be it. Any moment Nena would hear his scream of agony and see his lifeblood staining the furs.

She watched with renewed interest, until it became clear that no such thing was going to happen. The woman had missed multiple opportunities and worse, had even allowed herself to be turned away from him on all fours. As the Northman mounted her from behind, like a stallion would breed a mare, Nena squeezed her eyes closed. She could not watch this—not watch their two bodies grinding against each other. If only she could close her ears as well.

Only when Jarl lay spent beside her did Altene look up at her rival. She draped an arm possessively over his shoulder.

“May I examine your prize, my lord?” she asked him.

Jarl nodded and raised himself to one elbow as Altene slipped naked from the furs and approached his prisoner. As they stood side by side, he could see, though they shared the Dor coloring he found so attractive, Altene was a little shorter, a little softer and a little fuller. He watched as she walked around his prisoner. The hardness of the captive woman’s body was nothing compared to the hardness in her eyes as Altene circled her.

“Ask her her name,” he instructed Altene from the furs.

“I could, my lord, but you could just as well. She understands your language as I do,” Altene responded.

“I don’t think so. I’ve already asked her.”

“A Dor trick, my lord. That way they cannot be expected to talk if they are captured. But I assure you, as a warrior, especially a Teclan warrior, she understands your language and many others.”

“Teclan? No.” Jarl shook his head. “This was a plains tribe.”

“I have not seen the other prisoners yet to know about them, but this one is definitely Teclan,” Altene reaffirmed.

“How can you be sure? Do you know her?” Jarl asked.

Altene sniffed. “No, but I know of her. See these marks?” Altene pointed to the small black tattoos on Nena’s upper arm. “This star indicates she is Teclan. The plains tribes bear different symbols depending on what area they are from: a wheat ear, a bison, a hawk.”

“But the Teclan stronghold is in the mountains, many miles from here. We intentionally skirted their lands to avoid them. Though that would explain the casualties,” Jarl surmised out loud. He paused, digesting the new information. “They are enemies of your Klarta tribe, are they not?” he asked.

“We’ve had our disagreements with the Teclan,” Altene admitted.

“What else do her tattoos say?”

Altene pointed to another symbol on Nena’s arm below the star. “This lightning bolt tells that she’s the daughter of Meln, Chief of the Teclan tribe.”

“Meln? Are you certain?” Jarl asked.

Altene nodded.

He exhaled. “And a princess, then.” Jarl looked back at Nena.

“Of sorts,” Altene agreed, clearly unhappy with the new tone in his voice. “She’ll command a very high ransom.”

Jarl nodded absently.

“I can tell you anything else about them that you want to know,” she offered, trying to pull his attention back to her.

“Traitorous Klarta bitch,” Nena seethed between her clenched teeth.

Altene’s laughter filled the tent. “You see. She understands us plain.”

“I understand a traitor who lies with dogs,” Nena spat, “But I should expect no more from a Klarta.”

Altene’s fingers traced the gold bracelet on Nena’s arm. “May I have her bracelet, my lord?”

“Maybe later,” Jarl dismissed her request.

Altene was quick to hide her disappointment. “My lord asked your name. What is it?”

“He’s no lord of mine, whore.”

Altene smiled again. Unmoved by Nena’s insults, she