Free Pleasurably Undone! by Christine Merrill

didn’t, she explored the house more. Her skin prickled with unease, for she still didn’t trust him not to hurt her. But at least now she was armed.
    It startled her to realize how clean his dwelling was. Nothing was out of place, not any clothing nor soiled dishes. Her own brothers, though she loved them dearly, were terrible when it came to keeping their home neat. Time and again, she’d found a tunic shoved behind a barrel or a pair of shoes in the middle of the floor. Kieran was the worst, leaving wood shavings all over the place from his carvings.
    Her heart ached, the hollow feeling pushing away her sense of hope. Both of her brothers were gone. Kieran had saved her from one of the raiders before going after Egan. Afterwards, Tharand had stolen her.
    She didn’t know what had become of them. Or whether she would see them again. The thought made her want to rip all of the weapons off the wall, shattering anything she could get her hands on. Damn the Lochlannachs for what they’d done.
    Aisling choked back the tears and took a deep breath. You must leave . She couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. Her hand moved to the cool blade against her thigh, and it reassured her. Tharand would return soon, so she’d best get on with searching his belongings.
    Footsteps resounded outside, and she fled toward the hearth before the door swung open. A man entered the longhouse, wearing a chain mail corselet and an iron helm. Like a god of the underworld, his gaze settled upon her as though he intended to claim her.
    “I came to see Tharand,” he said. “But you’re his new captive, aren’t you?”
    Aisling reached for one of the knives, but his armor would make an attack more challenging. Wait , she cautioned herself. Your time will come .
    The Norse warrior moved forward so quickly, she didn’t have a chance to react. He gripped her waist, forcing her backagainst the wall. He used his strength to trap her there. “I could buy you from him,” he whispered as his hand moved to cup her breast. “Or perhaps he’d share you.”
    Aisling fought to reach the blade, her wrist aching with the effort. Almost there.
    A second later, another blast of cold air interrupted. Tharand closed the distance and hauled the attacker away from her. A sickening crunch resounded as he struck the man in the face. Fists met flesh, and a grim satisfaction filled Aisling as her captor pounded the soldier.
    “No one touches her,” Tharand growled.
    “She is a slave,” the man argued.
    “She is mine.” With his arm across the man’s throat, Tharand dragged him toward the wall of weapons. “Look upon these blades. The next time you, or any man, comes near her, I’ll let you choose the weapon that will end your life.”
    With that, he threw the door open and tossed the soldier into the snow. When he turned to her, his rage was not diminished. “Did he hurt you?”
    “N-no,” she managed. Aisling could feel his stare sliding down her body, the way the chill crept into her bones. Her earlier relief at being rescued was replaced with uneasiness. Why had he attacked one of his own men?
    “I have my own purpose for you,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “No man will harm you while you are under my protection.”
    Aisling forced herself to look at him. He unpinned the serpent brooch, removing his cloak. He didn’t toss it aside the way her brothers would have. Instead, he folded it neatly and hung it upon a wooden peg. His attention moved toward the wall of weapons, and instantly his eyes narrowed at the blank spaces where the daggers had once been.
    He knew the weapons were gone. But she refused to feel guilty. Everything this man possessed had been stolen from others. She would do what was necessary to survive.
    Aisling’s hand palmed the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh. Though he claimed no man would harm her, perhaps that did not include himself. Alone with him, she didn’t at all like the look in his eyes.
    The