The sight of light in the distance had her hopes rising. Was it the small town that the festival had been at? She ran harder, pushed herself faster, and knew that she needed to get to the tree line. That way she could yell out for help. The closer she got the more she felt like everything would be okay, but when she saw the rows of huts, crudely made and not of the twenty-first century, her footsteps stalled slightly.
She fell forward, her foot getting caught in one of the roots, and landed on her injured arm. Crying out from pain, she forced herself to stand up and move forward. She broke through the trees and stepped into the village. God, where in the hell was she?
“Help me,” she cried out, glancing over her shoulder again, and saw the beast barreling toward her. He had no shirt on, and wore only those leathers. He looked like a predator, and she was his prey. The way he stalked forward, an ax held in his hand, had her eyes widening and fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She turned and ran into the village a few more steps, but faltered when she saw several people stop what they were doing and stare at her. They wore clothing that was not of this time. The women had braids woven into their hair, and the men had longer hair and beards. They looked like the pictures she’d seen of Vikings and the villages in the Scandinavian area from centuries ago.
“I need help. That man,” she pointed behind her, saw the people look over her shoulder, and then saw their eyes widen. “He’s after me.” She switched it up to Norwegian, but they either didn’t understand her or didn’t care.
The women gathered the children, and the men ushered the females away, then stood their ground and held their swords and axes in front of them, as if on the defense. She spun around, saw the beast man coming at her, and felt the world tilt. Why wasn’t anyone helping her?
“Du tror du kana kjøre fra megoki, konna?” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. She tried to scream out, but he placed a hand over her mouth and stifled the sound. “Jeg er en rekker.” He stared at the villagers, and she heard the same word being shouted over and over again.
Dýr.
Agata could roughly, crudely translate that word, and knew that it meant “Beast”. She stared wide-eyed at this man that now held her, his hand still on her mouth.
“Ja konna. Jeg er Dýr.”
The beast had claimed a wife, and Agata was right in the middle of the lion’s den.
Chapter Three
Agata stared at the man, hating that he’d chained her up like some kind of animal, but supposed he was smart for doing it. She’d run if she had the chance, get far away from this barbarian and try to get back to her life.
God, how her boring, lonely life sounded like heaven right now. She looked down at the chain and wrapped her hand around it, giving it a tug. It was attached to the wall across from her, and wasn’t budging.
“I’m not a dog to be tied up, and I’m not your prisoner.” It had been a day since he’d dragged her away from that worthless village, filled with worthless people that wouldn’t even help a woman that was being kidnapped. The sun had risen, and she hadn’t slept more than a few hours, afraid of closing her eyes and not knowing what he’d do to her.
He hadn’t hurt her, but then again he kept her chained up, forced water down her throat, and spoke in harsh grunts in a language she wasn’t familiar with. They couldn’t even communicate, or at least he pretended he couldn’t understand her, and she sure as hell couldn’t understand what those villagers said. How was he supposed to have her comply with anything he wanted? He’d taken her, stored her away from the real world, and she had no clue how to get out of this.
He looked over at her, but then walked away and left the hut. She sat up straighter, tried to peer out the door, but he came back all too soon carrying two fish strung up on a line. She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent. They were clearly fresh, but they certainly had that fish smell going on with them.
He kept his gaze locked on her as he moved over to the wooden, chipped and scarred table pushed against the wall. He pulled it back so he could keep his eye on her, then started running a knife up the belly of the first fish. He did the same with the second, and ripped the insides out of the animals, tossing the remains into a wooden bucket.
She hadn’t spoken to him since, but he hadn’t said anything to her either. Maybe he preferred silence, but Agata wasn’t about to sit here and make this easy for him.
“I’m not going to be your wife. I’ll never give in to you willingly.”
He glanced up at her with just his eyes, his head still downcast, and his hands shoved up the belly of the fish.