Brothers of the Wild North Sea Read Online Free PDF

so contentedly and awoke refreshed. Clasped on his breast, Cai’s hands were at least out of mischief, and he drew and released a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes.
    He just wasn’t destined to have this made easy tonight. Even the dried bedstraw herbs in his thin sleeping mat smelled wonderful, heady and sweet. No sooner had he dismissed the scent from his mind when the door of the cell next to his creaked and banged hard against the wall. That meant Benedict, who despite his bulk moved quietly, was drunk. And if he was drunk, caution would be thrown to the winds, his beloved Oslaf clutched tight in his huge farmer’s hands and half-carried into his cell.
    Cai rolled over. Monks had no pillows, so he pressed his hands to his ears. The cells ought to be soundproof and normally were, their great doors once closed, but Benedict had left his shutters open to the warm spring air, and Oslaf’s first laughter-cracked groan carried effortlessly through. Images leapt into Cai’s head. It would be so good, to be thumped down onto a bunk tonight and ploughed under by a nice warm weight like Ben’s. For the life of him, Cai couldn’t see what was wrong with it. Well, Leof had never said that it was wrong—just distracting.
    Oh, God. It was very distracting. Oslaf began to moan, quietly but in explicit rhythm. The wooden frame of the bunk cracked off the wall, and there was a short-lived scuffle. Then a cry from Ben made Cai’s skin prickle tightly all over in response—the sharp joy of penetration, desire finding target in flesh. Not something he and Leof had ever done. Cai had feared to hurt him, and Leof had shown such confusion when Cai had offered himself in that way.
    At least his two neighbours weren’t going to torture him for long. The thuds and grunts had accelerated. Then there was a silence that was somehow worse, and a long whooshing groan of utter satisfaction from Ben.
    Cai gritted his teeth. He was erect again, much worse than when he’d been down in the pools. Heat like summer lightning flickered all over the surface of his skin. He took hold of the edge of the thin mattress ticking and buried his face in it until the lack of air became more urgent than the ache in his cock. Eventually the miles of road he had covered that day, the hills and tracks and wild moors, came to his rescue, and he fell into a restless, haunted sleep.
    He had a strange dream. In it, a wolf came from the sea. Cai, standing on the moonlit beach, felt no fear. He’d met wolves before, during long winter journeys through the forest, and he knew that none would come near Fara at this time of year, and never from the sea. Therefore he must be dreaming. He let himself enjoy the creature’s beauty as it bounded from the waves.
    It stood still, shook off its fur and became a man. Disbelief held Cai in place. When finally he turned and began to run, it was too late—his feet tangled in seaweed, and the creature caught him easily, knocking him flat. Hot breath brushed his ear. Wolf’s teeth sank into his shoulder, but there was no pain. The weight that pinned him was all human. A human arm locked round his chest. A strength like nothing he’d ever felt before restrained him, and he shuddered in terror and pleasure. Rough words resounded in his head, a language he didn’t understand, but he knew what he was being told to do and did it, spreading his thighs, lifting his backside to his captor’s thrust. He waited to be torn apart.
    No pain. A living heat drove up into his core. The creature—the human, the wolf—said his name, and the tenderness of it, the deep vibration, sent a melting rush into Cai’s very bones. He pushed up in longing, and there was no pain, only an overwhelming feeling of being owned, claimed, brought home. Thrust after thrust…
    He awoke coming. His fists were clenched on the bunk’s wooden frame, his body soaked in sweat. Rigid, he rode out his shaft’s helpless spending, sweeter and more dreadful than