Rain drenched her clothes and hair. Wind blew angry through the streets, cutting past Hessa’s wet clothes to make her skin prickle with goose bumps. She undid the empty provision bag from her belt and pushed it over the sword to disguise it. Half dragging the weapon through the muddy street, she made her way back to the prison.
The guards had moved under the shelter of the building. One sat in his chair, his eyes closed. The other tipped his bottle at Hessa and slurred out, “You’re late. The water girl already left.”
She nodded and moved on, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the bulge in her bag wasn’t quite right. Only a few of the prisoners were awake. One held his bloodied hand out to her, begging for food. But she had nothing to offer.
A low voice permeated the usually silent building. A voice that was singing in a rhythmic tone much like a lullaby. Hessa made her way to the end of the line of regular cells and took the steps into the lower reaches. She paused midway to stare at Gunnar. He stood in the midst of his cell, his hands pressed together, fingers touching his forehead. Air circled him in a whirlwind, drawing up pieces of straw and dust. His loincloth flapped. His hair moved. His voice stirred her body into a frenzied state of lust.
“Gunnar,” she said and ran down the rest of the way. The sword smacked against each step like a drummer tapping a beat.
He opened his eyes.
“Hessa.” With the halting of his song, the wind died. The straw and dust settled at his feet. “I was worried that something happened to you.” He pushed his hand through the bars to touch her face. “The water bearer came…”
His palm was warm against her wet cheek. She leaned into his touch and smiled. “I’ve come to set you free.”
She reached into her bag and found the keys. Hessa was cold and nervous. Her fingers quaked. The keys rattled and jingled as she held them out to him.
He breathed out slowly and took them. One by one, Gunnar stuck each key into the lock of his cell until the metal turned, and with a creak the gate opened. He stepped out of his cell and stood before her. She tilted her chin to look him in the eyes. He was so tall, a giant compared to her. His rough hands closed over her shoulders, then slid down her sides until he gripped her waist.
She squeaked when he lifted her body up and hugged her tight to his chest. His skin felt so hot. She circled his neck with her arms. Hessa had changed something-done something remarkable and dangerous. As his lips settled on her neck to kiss, she realized he was right. She could do anything she set her mind to. It was a frightening prospect. She could find her freedom, and quite possibly already had.
His tongue laved her shoulder between hot kisses. Beneath the thin layer of fabric that was his loincloth, she felt his cock hardening with desire. Hessa closed her eyes and breathed him in, thinking this moment was too good to be real.
Chapter Four
“What’s this,” he whispered, when he set her down. Gunnar was eyeing the handle of the massive blade she had stolen. It protruded from her bag.
“I found it in the cell warden’s house.”
He took the blade and partially drew it, shaking his head. “I thought it was lost at sea when they took me.” He ran his fingers along the handle before slipping it back into the sheath. “This sword belonged to my father. He fought in the three island war with this blade. He never lost a battle.”
“Neither did you in the pits.”
He set his arm around her shoulders, turning her to face the stairs. “But I needed no sword to win. We may yet need it to escape.” She felt his warm breath on her neck before he kissed her there once more, Then, he pushed her forth, and they started for the stairs.
“What about the rest of us?” a prisoner asked.
The keys jingled when they landed on the ground in the prisoner’s cell. “You be their hero and free them all,” Gunnar said. “Peace be with you and the men you send home.”
“The guards…” Hessa began when they reached the last step.
“Distract them.” He was sturdy when she leaned back and felt his body there, bracing her. His scent was like nothing she had ever known, exotic, manly, and wild. “The storm will hide us.”
“They’ve been drinking.” She felt hopeful. Maybe they could escape easily enough. As they started through the line of cells toward the door, she realized their mistake. The prisoners from the lower reaches were trampling up from behind.
Gunnar grabbed Hessa’s shoulders and pulled her aside before they could be run over. One by one, the prisoner with the keys unlocked each cell, freeing more, until they became a mob of angry men ready to flee. As one the crowd moved to the door, some so badly wounded that they left trails of blood across the ground. Hessa wanted to melt against Gunnar, to hide in the safety of his arms which enclosed her and held her steady.
“We wait,” he said against her ear, his voice low and calming. “They are our distraction.”
As they stood in the shadows, the hoards of prisoners rushed the exit. The guards were little match for men who had been forced to fight man and beast in the pits. A scream rose over the din and was silenced soon after. The men ran out, leaving Hessa and Gunnar holding hands and waiting to be sure it was safe to make their way out.
The storm outside pounded the roof. Gunnar started forth, pulling Hessa at his side. She wanted to wait a little longer, but he left her no choice as he rushed forth. Rain slapped against them at the door. The two guards were prone on the muddied earth, their faces downturned and their necks at odd angles to their bodies. She shook her head and tried not to look back.
“Your room,” he said. “Take me there first. It’s best to let the others escape and then wait until they chase after them.”
“My room,” she repeated, thinking of the dreams she had of him, of how those torrid dreams had made her wake lusty and heated. She motioned him in the direction of the servant quarters. ‘This way.”
They traveled along the edge of the cell building and ducked into the darkness of an alley. His long strides kept him close to her despite her trying to sprint along. At the end of the alley, he tugged her backwards and pulled her up into his arms. “No matter what happens,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you for this chance. A man is not a man unless he can be free.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her hard, stealing her breath. Then they were on the move again, Hessa leading him to the modest room she had spent most of her uneventful life in. As she opened the door and stepped into the darkness, she wondered if this would be the last time she came to this place.
Gunnar had to duck his head to pass inside. Hessa looked back at him as she lit the tallow candle to illuminate her allotted space. He shut the door and set his sword across the two bars to lock it from the outside world.
Water dripped from his chin. Droplets clung to his face. “Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” she asked, her mind turning over the idea of what it would be like to lick every last tear of rain from his skin.
“I’m not sure, but that’s the way of life.” He shrugged and ran his hands through his wet hair. “Being stolen has taught me that everything is uncertain, that every moment must be seized for its full potential.” He licked his lips and wiped his hand across his face.