Bride of the Sea (The Prophecy of Sisters #2) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,4

spark of recognition in her eyes as my men speak. They’ve been talking amongst themselves, speaking of their spoils, of the women that they raped and the ones that they have taken for thralls. Claiming which ones will make fine bed slaves when they return. It is clear to me that this woman does not understand our words.

“I don’t understand you,” she whimpers, confirming my thoughts.

Her voice is sweet, sweeter than a man like me will ever deserve to hear. Bunafi then, it must be. For Bunafidian is a language that is sharp to the ear and I do not understand other than a word here or there in passing. It is clear she hails from Bunafi, though I am not sure how she ended up here.

Standing, I turn to my men. “I lay claim to this woman. She is mine,” I roar.

They jerk their chins and cry out. Reaching for her arm, I wrap my fingers around her slight bicep and tug her to her feet. Pulling her behind me, I head toward my steed. Climbing up on the horse, I turn to look down and see my brother holding her, a grin playing on his lips.

Once I’m settled on the back of the horse, I flick my gaze to my brother. He takes delight in wrapping his hands around her waist to pick her up and hand her to me. She lets out a noise that goes straight to my böllur, causing it to harden immediately.

Arranging her in front of me, I slide my hand around her petite waist, pressing my palm against her belly and forcing her to lean back against me. Shifting forward slightly, I slide my lips against her ear.

“Calm, rauõr,” I murmur.

Red.

Her hair is so red, it smells so sweet, too. I’ve never smelled anything quite like it before. She trembles against me. My lips turn up into a smile as we head toward camp.

My men are tired and weary, they are also so filled with adrenaline that I wonder if we will ever sleep tonight. I grunt, unlikely. Tonight will be nothing but celebrations and thanking our gods for protecting us. Drinking, debauchery, and a feast. The most important things in a warrior’s life.

If I could guide the horse elsewhere and take this woman alone, treat her with the tenderness that I think she needs, I would. That is not what will happen though and I have no doubt that she will not like the world she is about to enter.

It also does not matter what she likes.

She is mine now.

Once we’re in the camp, I smile as I look around at my men, who are clearly already enjoying their success. The celebrations stop and the noise slowly dies as everyone looks up at me. I’m not surprised to see the consensus of shock and awe on their faces as they take in the woman in front of me.

Not only is it unheard of for me to have a woman in my presence in public at all, it is also unheard of me to have one anywhere near the battlefield. This is different though, something about this one calls to me.

“Warriors,” I shout. “You have been victorious. Dhuis rewards us with great bounty for our victories,” I shout, speaking of our Allfather God.

The men crow and cry out their battle calls. “Enjoy the spoils of this war, my men. For tomorrow we pack up camp and head toward the ships to enjoy other victories when we arrive home to our women who weep of our absence,” I roar.

Tugging on the reins of my horse, I guide him over to the trees where we have them tethered. Climbing off of my beast, I let out a groan as my feet hit the ground. There is a chill in the air here, but it is still not as cold as my home. Though, judging by the woman who was shivering in my arms, she is sensitive to the weather. She will not like Wolfjour Ail, if she is already cold here.

“Down,” I say, speaking in her native tongue.

I only know a very select few words in her language, so she will need to learn Wolfjourian and quickly. Extending my arms, I wrap my hands around her small waist and tug her down from the horse.

Pulling her close to me, I allow her entire body to glide down my own as I place her on her bare feet in the wet mud. Her hands automatically wrap