by Felicity Brandon
When she is left all but alone to defend her family's castle against an army of battle-hardened Viking raiders, nineteen-year-old Princess Aurelie of Donrose fights valiantly but is soon overcome. After her capture by the tall, handsome leader of the northmen, Prince Anders, she is carried away along with the rest of the spoils of conquest.
Anders makes it clear to the princess that she is now his property, to do with as he likes, and he takes pleasure in stripping her bare and putting her on display. When she defies her new master, Aurelie quickly discovers that Anders will not hesitate to spank her soundly, but to her shame the painful, humiliating punishment leaves her deeply aroused.
Bound and helpless yet burning with desire, the princess finds herself longing for the bold, dominant warrior to take her hard and thoroughly, and when she surrenders to his mastery of her body the pleasure is more intense than she would have ever thought possible. Aurelie's submission to Anders grows more complete with each passing day, but when her brothers arrive with an army to seek vengeance against their old enemy she must make a fateful choice. Will she remain loyal to her family and her people, or come to the aid of her Viking prince?
Genre: Historical RomancePurchase link(s): Amazon ARe iTunes Kobo Google B&N
Content/Theme(s): Vikings, BDSM, Spanking, Suspense, Medieval, Erotic
Release Date: October 21, 2016
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Excerpt & More
Movement in the gloom draws me forward. The sound of my steps echoes around the stone walls as I go. At last I can make out a figure in the darkness. His height should make him instantly recognizable, and yet there is something different about him. I reach forward, spreading what little light there is toward him. It’s then that I identify what seems strange. His arms are above his head, held in place by heavy-looking shackles. It’s remarkable to see him—this man who has owned me in so many ways—now in bondage of his own. The shackles contort his torso, forcing his muscular shoulders into an unforgiving form. I lift the lantern, revealing the ends of the shackles anchored into the stone roof. They look ancient and impossible to break free from.
I pause, realizing how absurd the title seems now in this dank, oppressive place. He turns his head, revealing that handsome face for the first time as I lower the lantern. His skin is dirty and his fair locks, usually so well groomed, are now matted and messy, but under the filth I see the face of my master. He stares into the gloom, deciphering me from the darkness and a small smile forms on those full lips.
“Aurelie.” His voice is little more than a whisper. “I was certain that it was I who left you in bondage the last time we met?”
His tone is amused and surprises me. How can he jest in his current predicament? I move forward to within a few inches of his stretched body and shift the soft strands of hair from his face. Our eyes meet, locking together and conveying a thousand unspoken words. I press myself into his side, noticing the rips in his clothing and the bloodied stripes there. He flinches as I make contact with them, the pain written over the lines of those high cheekbones.
“What have they done to you, Anders?” I whisper, rising to my tiptoes so that I may see his lips. They twitch subconsciously at my proximity.
“What they must do,” he answers. “What I would have commanded had the order been mine to give.”
“Do not make excuses for my brother’s lack of compassion,” I reply, my voice full of scorn.
He smiles at me. “You do not approve, my captive?” he asks, one eyebrow rising in that sardonic way.
“Do not jest with me!” I snap, shifting the position of Aurora and leaning against his shoulder.
I press my face into his cold skin, immersing myself in the smell of the man who has so fundamentally changed me. He twists his head left again, watching me.
“If these chains were to disappear, I would tan that beautiful backside for you for that comment.”
His tone is low, sending a shiver through me. I feel my breath quicken at his words, imagining me sprawled over his strong lap, my skirts tossed over my torso as he administers my spanking. I clench the moistening muscles between my legs, acknowledging how good the idea sounds. His eyes sparkle as they assess my responses.
“You would like that too, wouldn’t you, my captive?” he probes.
I swallow hard, knowing that even in this gloom, Anders will notice my color rising from my neck to my cheeks.
“Yes,” I murmur, transfixed by him even in this new role reversal.
“Have you missed me?” he asks, moving his arms in the metal chains above us. “Have you missed my discipline?”
“You know I have,” I reply, not daring to take my eyes from his blue orbs. “Have you missed me, my Lofðungr?”
I don’t know why I ask, as his answer will not change any inch of the fate now laid out in front of us. He presses his lips together and sighs before he replies.
“You have no idea, my captive,” he says, briefly closing his eyes as he answers. “Through the last hours and every ordeal, I have thought only of you. Despite my current predicament I can assure you that I am full of joy to see you.”
I smile, breathing him in and warmed by his words. “I hate to see you this way,” I mumble into his skin. “I’ll be damned if I see you die at the hands of Donrose!”
I catch the emotion in my throat as I speak the words, imagining for a moment a world without my Viking invader.
“Donrose owes me no favor, Aurelie,” he says, his voice full of reassurance. “I have invaded and pillaged her.”
I gaze up at Anders as he concludes, understanding full well the comparison he is drawing with my own maidenhead.
“However, it could be said that I owe her a great deal…” He strains his neck as he speaks, moving his face toward my head, resting against his chest. “In fact you might say that she has changed me forever.”
I blink at him, absorbing the words wrapped up in that dark, luscious tone. “How so?” I ask softly.
He smiles at me, shaking his head. “She is a flower more beautiful than any I have ever known. No matter how great the bloom, I can never get enough of her—ever.”
I exhale sharply, unable to believe his words and yet joyfully receiving them nonetheless. I move toward his waiting lips, forcing myself upward and into their soft fullness. For his part, Anders leans into me, accepting my kiss and offering me his own. I can feel the strain in his body as his tendons pull against the metal intent on holding him in place. The kiss allows us the briefest union; tender and exquisite, and enough to demonstrate how we really feel. I drop from my toes, breaking the kiss and staring up at my man, chained to the ancient walls of my father’s castle.
Every range of emotion seems to surge through me. I accept that this is the man who had orchestrated my own abduction and torment. A man who had enjoyed tying and using me, let alone punishing me in public, and a man who authorized the deaths of many of Donrose’s men. Yet as I look into his eyes I recognize the other Anders—the private, affectionate man. This is the man who had ordered Magnus to spare my life within this very castle, and the man who had honored his promise not to take me by force. Never once in any of our unions had he ever taken anything I was not readily glad to give.
“I will not leave you here to die,” I say, adamant as the energy courses through my blood.
“On this issue, my captive,” he begins, his voice heavy with regret. “I fear neither of us has any choice.”
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