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“You should have been put to death when you were a child, not banished.” The other man swung his sword and grunted when Stian blocked the move.
They went at it for several moments. Blood and sweat dripped into Stian’s eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to back down. Stian thought of his life as a child, the abuse he went through, the fact that no one in the village helped him, and sent him away just because he had enough of the torment.
They’d never given him a chance to explain why he’d done what he had, even if they’d already known.
With a mighty roar, he sliced his blade through the other man’s throat and watched him fall to the ground. For several seconds, he stared as the blood spew out of his throat and cover the ground. The other few men now retreated, accepting their defeat.
He turned when he felt Agata touch his back. She had wide eyes, looked shocked, but she cupped his cheeks, leaned up, and kissed him on the lips.
“I told you to leave,” he said against her mouth. Gore and death surrounded them, but having this woman beside him, pressed up against him, had warmth and hope filling him. He was pissed, angry that she didn’t listen to him, but pride filled him as well, because his woman hadn’t buckled under the threat. She’d come out and fought beside him, and he loved her for it.
Yes, Stian Dagmar actually felt love, and it felt pretty incredible.
21
Agata stood in front of the sea. The wind blew her hair around, and she held the satchel of herbs in her hand. She looked at the water, at the mountains surrounding them, then glanced at Stian who stood beside her.
He had a cut on his cheek, deep but not bleeding any longer. Blood covered them both, and she felt like death surrounded them, but she felt free.
“I’ve never killed anyone,” she said in English, knowing he probably wouldn’t understand all of that.
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Death lasts with you, even after the fact.”
She only caught a portion of that, but understood him enough and nodded. “I know that, Stian.”
He pulled her into a hug, and she rested her head on his chest.
“I don’t want to leave,” Agata whispered.
Stian pulled her back and had this hard look on his face. “Truly?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” Pulling back from him and staring at the sea, she tightened her hand on the satchel and took a deep breath. Opening the small bag, she scented the herbs right away. They were pungent, spicy, and reminded her that if she took them right now, she could be back home.
A home that offers you nothing. At least in this life, you can be someone, learn to care about someone so deeply it takes your breath away and makes you want to fight for him.
And without thinking, she dumped the contents into the sea and watched as the water carried it away.
“What was that?” he asked.
“My past,” she said without taking her eyes off the waves. She turned and faced him, smiled, and knew this was where she belonged. “And now I have my future.”
Epilogue
Four years later
Stian looked at his female, his wife, the woman who had captured his heart so long ago. Things had certainly changed for the better in his life since he met Agata. They no longer lived in the small one-room hut but had a bigger place that was safe and had plenty of room for their children to grow and run in.
He built their new home by hand, making sure she had a view of the sea but had the protection of the forest. They were miles away from the village, and after that incident where he should have slaughtered all those men who came to hurt what was his, he found the little compassion Agata willed up in him and let them live—most of them, that was.
He ran his hands up and down her back, his still-aching erection pressing against her wet center. He’d pounded her good and hard, claimed her, and made her cry out for more. But even her whimpering for release hadn’t made him go slow or soft, hadn’t made him relent.
“My wife, you seem tired,” he said and smiled. She rolled over and grinned at him but elbowed him in the chest. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. Her blonde hair was longer than it had been, done in braids, and sweaty from their fucking.
“That’s what happens when my husband nearly fucks the life out of me,” she said and grinned, thrusting her ass toward his cock.
“Who said anything about us being done?” He nuzzled her neck and growled out at the fact that his cock was ready once more. He moved back enough that he could look at her bottom. The globes were big and round, and his hands itched to spank her until redness coated them. “I know you want me stretching and filling you with my seed. Or maybe,” he said softer and kissed the side of her throat, “maybe you want me stretching your pretty ass with my dick.”
