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

continued her examination, reading the other tattoos that circled Nena’s upper arms. “Tsk, tsk. What is this?” She reached out to touch a small tattoo in the outline of a circle. That drew the first physical response from his captive who had stood unmoving throughout the inspection so far. She jerked her arm away from Altene and pulled again at her restraints. “Shall I tell him what that means?” Altene purred wickedly.

Nena did not respond, regaining her stillness and her silence.

“She is a virgin still, my lord. Unknown by any man. When a Dor woman takes her first man, this circle is filled in. You see,” she displayed her own upper arm, “as mine is.”

“Lucky for you the circle is not enlarged for every man you take or your body would be blackened,” Nena hissed.

A virgin princess. Jarl sat stunned by this most recent turn of events and suspected that had Tryggr and the other two men known that fact, they might have fought a little harder, perhaps even be fighting still.

“Shall we have her together, my lord? Introduce her to the world of great pleasures? You and I sharing her first long moan together.” Altene’s eyes gleamed at the prospect, but Nena sensed the woman’s insecurity, and knew her offer was not motivated by the desire she suggested. The Klarta woman was afraid; she did not want this lord of the Northmen pleasuring himself with another. Not that she had to worry about that, Nena thought with disdain. If he kept her bound, he would be able to force her, but she would make sure his pleasure was minimal—and unlike the Klarta woman, she wouldn’t hesitate to bite out his throat.

“I could make her willing for you, my lord. You would not have to force her, as I know that displeases you. I am trained not only in the pleasure of men, but women as well, and I know ways to make even the most unwilling woman beg for your touch. Give me time with her in the furs. You can even watch,” she offered suggestively and traced a fingertip down the soft skin on the inside of Nena’s upper arm. She glanced at Jarl, happy to see his eyes hungrily following her finger’s path. “Many men enjoy that,” she murmured. “She will need to be restrained at first, but when she is ready, she will moan for you as I do,” Altene continued.

Jarl’s eyes moved to his captive’s face. She looked at Altene now with even more disgust and a hint of horror. He tried to imagine what Altene was suggesting. Altene, naked and willing. The Teclan woman, hard and passionate. The three of them? His heart rate increased. Altene was the most skilled woman in the furs he’d ever encountered, and the prospect of things she might know about another woman was as shocking as it was intriguing. He felt Altene’s questioning eyes still upon him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he declined.

“Perhaps later then,” Altene murmured, satisfied by the strain in his voice that the decision had been a difficult one. She smiled to herself. The seed of suggestion had been successfully planted and his desire had been clear. He wouldn’t be able to help but consider it more later, when he had time to think about it. “In the meantime, I can find out her name for you, if you still want it? The Teclan are known to resist torture, but there are other ways to get information. There will be many among the new captives who will know her. All we have to do is threaten to maim a child and the mother will speak quickly enough.”

“My name is Nena.”

Altene smirked at her. “You see how easy that was. You’ll find things go much easier if you’re agreeable.”

“Then I foresee things being very difficult for me,” Nena responded.

Altene laughed again. “She’s a feisty one, my lord.”

“I want you to take her to the baths and bring her back clean and dressed. I know it will not be easy, so gather as many other women as you need—and do not untie her hands.”

“As you wish, my lord. It will not be a problem.” Altene smiled.

Jarl had expected her to complain, but Altene seemed almost to be looking forward to the difficult task. Or was she looking forward to having his captive at her disposal? “And Altene,” he added. “She is not to be harmed—not so much as bruised, in fact. Am I clear? Any mark I find on her body will not go well for you.”

“Of course, my lord.” Altene bowed her head and nodded before slipping back into her dress and leaving the tent.

She returned quickly with four women. Far too few, by Jarl’s estimation after his recent experiences with the woman. He was about to say so when Altene produced a long section of thin rope. He watched in silence as the women rigged an unusual loose rope harness around Nena’s neck, wrists, waist and ankles, then led her from the tent without so much as even a hint of a scuffle.

With the women gone to bathe, Jarl left to do the same. He returned in a fresh tunic and trousers to an empty tent and stood for a moment contemplating his next move. There was no way he was going to give her to his men, but he could hardly keep her tied with her hands over her head forever. He secured a short length of chain to the ring on the post, enough to allow her to sit or lie down, but not enough to reach him as he slept. Then he cleared out any object that could even be remotely considered a weapon from within the new circle of her reach.

He felt a trickle running between his fingers and glanced at his hand. The wound had reopened and started to bleed again. He dug through one of his packs and found an old torn tunic that had yet to be mended