Free Ravished by a Viking by Delilah Devlin

of wills.
    “Any injuries?” the Viking asked from closer than she’d expected.
    His words stirred her hair and caused the finer down on the back of her neck to rise. Her hands curled, nails digging into her palms.
    “No injuries worth noting to your men, sir,” Cyrus said.
    A grunt sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn, didn’t want the leader of the pirates to see the defeat in her eyes—or question the glow heating her cheeks. The only injuries “worth noting” had been to her own crew and their pride. The raiders’ victory had been decisive and humiliatingly swift.
    Cyrus glanced at the panel before him. “The ship’s surgeon has been identified and escorted to the makeshift brig in the ship’s hold.”
    Another soft grunt. “Begin the search. We will need the woman’s next in command to assist.”
    “Navigator!” Cyrus called out.
    Turk, who sat on the first step of the dais cradling his head and using his shirt to wipe the blood from his nose, straightened and cast a glance at Honora.
    Her lips curled in self-directed disgust. She wasn’t his captain anymore. “Cooperate. This will soon be over.” At least, she hoped that was true.
    Turk uncrossed his legs and pushed up from the stair.
    Dagr moved from behind her, his hip nudging her backside, reminding her of her unwanted attraction. “We’ll scour the ship for the captives you are hiding.” He tucked a finger beneath her chin and raised her face. “You could make this easier on yourself and your men by telling me where they are.”
    Shock caused her to rock on her heels—from the flare of heat that left her sweating because he touched her and from realization of what he sought. But she remained silent, wondering why the hell he cared about the savages who’d been plucked from the planet’s surface.
    Pirates weren’t known to be sentimental and wouldn’t care that their land-bound brethren had been spirited away. Perhaps they intended to ransom them back to the kingdoms below. The wealth of the planet’s fiefdoms was immense—considerable enough to keep a Consortium ship in their planet’s orbit at all times, ostensibly to protect the ore shipments leaving the planet, but in fact to remind the rulers that they were once slaves and would be again one day.
    She held the pirate’s icy gaze, fighting her growing alarm at the intensity of his expression.
    When his thumb swept her bottom lip, she fought the inappropriate urge to lick it. Balls!
    Captives , she reminded herself. He searches for the captives.
    She dragged her gaze from the Viking’s and slammed it into Baraq’s. She read the quiet fury there. He’d argued bitterly for her to raise a complaint over the nature of their mission to this planet after she’d confided what she’d discovered in the ship’s hold.
    It was one thing to conduct an attack, he’d argued, but there was no honor to be found in kidnapping men. And for what purpose? She hadn’t been willing to ask the high command why, believing they had reasons, that they kept the greater good in mind.
    And her crew hadn’t extracted the Norsemen. They’d only housed the bounty hunters, fed them food and ale. Given them access to the teleport. The Proteus ’s crew wasn’t directly responsible.
    A distinction this pirate would probably not allow, she was sure. Not that she would admit a thing. The longer she and her crew held out, the longer they stayed out of communication with the Consortium, the better the chance they could solve this problem themselves.
    The rasp of his callused thumb scraped her lip again. Honora swallowed hard and glared.
    “Perhaps you aren’t so eager for us to quit your ship,” he murmured.
    Honora’s breath hitched. She didn’t dare breathe, didn’t want to inhale the scent of him—sweat and male musk, yes, but the underlying freshness, an herbal scent she couldn’t quite place, drew her. She swayed closer.
    “Breathe,” he whispered. “Or you’ll faint.”
    She tugged her