Monk – Captured by Temptation

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– The third in the “Tales of Freya” collection of sensual short stories set in the Viking age –

 

Captured monk Alistair is taken to a viking farm as a slave. In the dead of night, he is disturbed by his new masters’ carnal reunion. The monk turns to fervent prayer, but soon he is interrupted by his alluring pagan mistress: Runa challenges him to break his vows …

 

“Sarah Dahl brings a crisp, contemporary voice to an ages-old world of battle, bloodshed and primal indulgences.” – J.D. Lexx

 

“Her sensual Viking romance series (Tales of Freya) will drag you into a world history just can’t seem to forget, and everyone still finds fascinating. With her unique writing style and in-depth knowledge of this bygone era, she brings the world of clashing swords, dashing warriors, and strong, independent shield maidens to life.” – Elaine Coetzee

Excerpt:

Alistair tears his gaze away from his mistress’s parted lips. Oh God, have mercy; what kind of test is this …. He frantically tries to remember the words that kept his mind occupied during the previous nights, the words that saved him from touching himself at the sound of the couple’s love-making. But now, with her slender fingers on the fabric of his cowl — How can such a sensation, a mere bodily feeling, so easily steer his mind away from his vows, his beliefs, his promises? Was he ever even honest with himself, ever really convinced of his chosen way of life?
He jerks backwards to escape Runa’s touch. The racing of the pulse in his throat scares him.
Runa exchanges a smile with her husband, then her hands find their way underneath Alistair’s cowl.
Alistair freezes, his eyes drowning in hers as skin meets skin for the first time. He winces, but can’t move. The gently crackling fire in the hall sends just enough light through the rough wicker wall to read their faces, see motions and emotions, without laying it all bare like the cruel sun.
Maybe He is looking the other way just now …. Alistair swallows hard against the dryness of his mouth. He couldn’t find a verse strong enough to weaken the power of his mistress’s hands on him. Under his cowl, her hands move up, across his stomach, and to his chest, soft and gentle, inoffensive, exploring him.
His skin tingles where her fingers trail. Little, shy waves of pleasure spread across his torso and settle in his lap. He wants to weep at the intimacy her caress offers. With a mere touch, she sets his small, solitary world on fire.
His sight blackens, his mind empties, and he breaks into a very pagan sweat.