A Viking's Rage

Chapter 16

Ragda paced his room, his mind turbulent with anger and grief. Aiya had been forced to kill Dagr—a fate he should have spared her. His failure to protect her weighed on him, an unrelenting burden. He had always been resolute, clear-headed, but this woman—so fierce, so unyielding—had unraveled him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

The door flew open with a deafening crash, and Ragda spun around, ax in hand, his warrior instincts taking over. But the figure that stormed in wasn’t an enemy—it was Aiya.

“Aiya?” he said, his voice laced with surprise.

She stood in the doorway, her golden dress torn, revealing the soft skin of her shoulders and neck. Her hair was wild, her chest heaving, and her expression burned with a mix of defiance and sorrow. She was no longer a frightened girl—she was a force of nature.

“I’m sorry for your brother,” she said, her voice steady. “But I refuse to live the rest of my life in fear.”

Ragda let the ax fall from his hand with a heavy thud. He crossed the room in a few strides, his intense gaze fixed on her. Without a word, he gripped the torn fabric of her dress and pulled her close, his other hand cradling the back of her neck. His lips met hers with a ferocity that made her gasp.

She clung to him instinctively, her hands pressing against his bare chest. Ragda’s strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her further into the room.

“Ahem.” Thrain’s voice cut through the heated moment. “Seems my assistance won’t be necessary.”

Aiya turned her head, startled, but Ragda barely acknowledged his friend, waving him off without breaking their embrace. “Close the door,” he growled, his lips brushing against hers.

“I’ll just... leave you to it,” Thrain muttered with a smirk, pulling the door shut behind him.

Ragda carried her to his bed and laid her down, his eyes never leaving hers. The carved headboard cast shadows in the firelight as they sank into the soft furs. His hands roamed her body, exploring the curves of her hips and thighs as he pushed her skirts higher.

She reached for him, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest, the heat of his skin warming her palms. His fur vest fell away, revealing a body sculpted by battle. Her heart pounded as his hands worked their way up her body, his touch both gentle and commanding.

“Ragda,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

He tore away the remnants of her dress, his breath catching as her body was revealed to him. Her hair spilled around her like liquid gold, and the firelight danced across her skin. She was more beautiful than he had dared to imagine.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

As he undressed, Aiya watched him, her own breath hitching. When he returned to her, his touch ignited a fire within her that she hadn’t known existed. Their bodies moved together, each moment building with intensity until it consumed them both.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice raw with honesty. Before she could respond, he kissed her again, his passion silencing her.

---

Later, they lay entwined in the quiet aftermath, their breaths still uneven. Ragda traced the scars on her back with his fingertips, his touch reverent.

“I will kill whoever did this to you,” he vowed, his voice low but firm.

Aiya stiffened at his words, her thoughts drifting to Noah. The pain of his loss was still a sharp ache in her heart.

“I have to kill him,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth.

Ragda turned her to face him, his brow furrowing. “Hvat?”

“You said you loved me,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Did you mean it?”

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked faintly. “Did I say that?” he teased. “I don’t recall.”

Her heart sank as he stood, pulling on his trousers. The warmth they had shared moments ago seemed to vanish as his demeanor shifted. He tightened his belt and gave her a faint smile.

“After all that, I’m starving,” he said lightly. “Do you want anything?”

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No.”

As the door closed behind him, Aiya sat up, her chest tightening with a mix of confusion and hurt. Her gaze fell to the bloodstained sheets, a stark reminder of what had transpired. She rose from the bed and walked to the bathing basin, scrubbing her skin clean. The cold water stung, but she welcomed the clarity it brought.

She gathered the soiled linens and tossed them into the fire, watching as the flames consumed them. Her ruined dress followed, its once-beautiful fabric reduced to ash. Searching Ragda’s trunk, she found one of his thick woolen shirts and pulled it over her head. The garment hung loose on her frame, but it was warm and comforting.

Without looking back at the bed, she opened the door and stepped out into the quiet halls, her resolve hardening with each step.