Authors: Constantine De Bohon
Valhalla Hott (21 page)
She stopped her deliberations when Hott came at her like a
madman. His mouth found hers in a frenzied dance. Valerie was
soon breathless. His fist tightened and entwined in her hair as
though she might disappear. Her eyes opened wide with the look
on Hott‟s face—he was crying! Tears trailed a steady stream down
his proud, handsome warrior face.
“I will not lose you,” he begged.
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Valerie cried with him. She couldn‟t live without him. No
matter how long it took she knew he would stay with her until his
child was conceived. She was terrified. She was still breastfeeding.
She knew some women still became pregnant and that
breastfeeding wasn‟t a perfect contraceptive, but still…
Valerie heard Hott‟s frantic words. He was praying to Odin.
He believed with all his heart she had been his gift from the
Gods—his little Valkyrie. Maybe she had been. Valerie prayed too.
She wrapped her arms around Hott‟s huge back and opened for
him. When he slid inside her, she met his eager desperate thrusts.
He gripped her to him like a dying man. And she realized he would
die without her. She had to return with him or he would be
crushed; he would feel betrayed again.
They both gave of themselves. Their loving was wild with
desperation, filled with love and longing. It was an emotion of
battle. Hott used his manhood as a tender weapon, a fight for his
very salvation. There was no giant to decapitate, there was no
enemy to quash, and yet lives hung in the balance. Valerie
understood his past need for battle when he‟d first met her. He
needed to challenge emotion, to meet it with his prowess. He was
a Viking warrior. He battled as he had never battled before, and
Valerie battled with him. She met every thrust, every kiss, every
caress, and still they battled to achieve the end result. They must
win the war.
Their tears mingled upon their cheeks as Hott pressed his face
to hers. Her head was cradled under one large arm. A slender leg
was lifted and pulled tight to Hott‟s waist. They moved together,
making love while they desperately tried to make a life from their
union. Valerie‟s eyes closed as she felt molded to him. It was as
though they were one. And still Hott prayed.
Valerie lay still with exhaustion, feeling Hott spill his seed
into her again and again throughout the long night. He was
relentless. A powerful foe. He showed her the stamina of a great
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warrior. The sweat dripped from their bodies in sheets to soak the
ground beneath them. And when finally he collapsed, he pulled her
close and swore they would try over and over until she was able to
return. She looked to the heavens and begged for a miracle, then
fell asleep in the early hours of the morning trusting in him.
* * * *
When Valerie awoke, she saw Hott watching her. His fingers
brushed her hair from her face. She whimpered in pain and
clutched her breasts that ached with desperate need of release.
Hott lowered his head and suckled one engorged breast into his
mouth. He drank from her until she wasn‟t feeling as full. Then he
did the same for the other.
“Biorn will be fine,” he promised. “No doubt his belly is full
from goat‟s milk Bera has retrieved.”
Valerie knew he was right. Bera would care for him and Hrolf
until their return as would Alfarin. Hott held out his hand to her.
Valerie rose and donned her clothing. Hott wrapped his arm
around her tightly.
“I will not leave without you,” he swore.
Together the two walked into the mist. When it swirled
darker and deeper, Hott stopped, he kissed Valerie and once more
declared he was Odin‟s loyal servant. They both took a deep
breath. Valerie sobbed when she went forward with Hott. She
cried harder when the mist cleared, and she knew she was home.
She grimaced and felt great relief when she saw Anki‟s head cut
from his body and his fallen men strewn about. They had gotten
what they deserved.
Valerie looked away from the gruesome sight. Instead, she
lifted her head and smelt the sweet air. Hott turned her into his
arms, smiling down on her. His huge hand rested lovingly onto her
belly.
“She will be our Helgi,” he declared.
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Valerie laughed. She threw her head back, and Hott spun her
in circles. A daughter, she just knew she would have a daughter.
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Epilogue
Hott watched his little Valkyrie nurse his son. Biorn made tiny
suckling sounds that were music to his ears. Hrolf played with Kis-
kis, Petal, and Porky in front of the hearth in their hut. Valerie
smiled over at him, and he felt his heart melt. He knew she was his
Valhalla gift from Odin and from now on everything would be
fine. He had slain the giant he had set out to defeat.
At a small sound at the door, Hott rose. He wandered outside
and saw Ulfr staring up at the stars. Hott went to his brother. The
two men, so different and yet so much alike stood companionably
together for a quiet moment.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Hott said.
Ulfr glanced over at him and shrugged as if it were nothing.
“You are my brother.”
“Your own little Valkyrie waits for you,” Hott said. “You need
only let her in.”
“But she will not be Valerie,” Ulfr said sadly.
Hott faced his brother. He put his hands on his shoulders.
“No, she will not. But she will be your own.”
“Perhaps there is no woman here for me,” Ulfr stated. “None
of the others in the village interest me. I feel so lonely. Why is
there no one here that I can feel close to?”
“Then go to where your woman could be,” Hott said.
Ulfr looked at him in confusion. Hott took him by the arm,
and the two men moved off. It took some time, but when Hott
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was finished he had explained to his brother everything there was
about his meeting with Valerie. Then he and his brother clasped
hands.
“Take care of your little Valkyrie,” Ulfr said. His voice was
thick with emotion.
Hott nodded. He could see the longing in Ulfr‟s eyes. His
brother needed more in his life. He would give a prayer to Odin he
found it. It was sad to watch his brother‟s back disappear into the
darkness.
Hott walked back into the hut. Valerie had laid the babe in the
cradle he had made and Hrolf was tucked into his own bed in his
own room. The animals were curled up together on the foot of
their furs.
“Where did Ulfr go?” Valerie asked and yawned.
“To find his own little Valkyrie,” Hott said thoughtfully.
Valerie looked at him with concern. “Into the mist?”
“Perhaps that‟s where all destinys lay, in the mist.”
“Why?” Valerie asked curiously.
“Sometimes you can see through it. Other times it is so thick
you don‟t know where you are going. Sometimes it rolls and
billows in anger. Other times it lies still like a blanket of security,
covering everything, hiding any who need a shield. It is eerie and
breathtaking. But most of all it is mysterious, as is life. A turn in
any indecisive direction can lead to happiness or folly.”
Valerie snuggled up to Hott under the furs on the pallet. Her
head rested on his shoulder. “I hope he finds what he is looking
for,” she said quietly.
“He will. He is my brother.”
Hott lowered his head to kiss her. When her lips met his in
their familiar dance he sighed. He could hear the snoring of the
animals, the deep breathing of his babe, and the slight rustle in the
next room of his eldest son. And Hott could feel the heat of
Valerie‟s sex calling to him. Her hand slid up and down his cock so
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sensuously it was not long before he lay over her. As his penis slid
inside her warmth, he heard her whisper she loved him more than
anything in the world. He grinned and told her he felt the same.
He took her at his leisure, loving her. When they finished he rolled
to his side taking her with him, cuddling her.
Hott‟s eyes began to close in his exhaustion. The day had been
overlong, and he was feeling his weariness. He pulled Valerie
closer to his chest. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.
Then to his utter surprise he heard Hrolf call suddenly from his
room.
“Mommy, I need a drink of water.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Constantine De Bohon lives in her Ontario home with her
husband and is currently working on her next book in her
Viking
Warriors
series.
For your reading pleasure, we invite
you to visit our web bookstore
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS TORRID
www.whiskeycreekpresstorrid.com
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