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Romanticon has been a blast—especially seeing all the little dramas and debaucheries through my daughter’s eyes. Sis was her dance partner, which saved my feet—thanks, Myla! Today’s the booksigning. I hope to see some of you there. You don’t have to buy a book to say hello!

Here’s another excerpt from Enslaved by a Viking. Forgive Eirik for being a little rough when he first gets his hands on Fatin. A man’s dignity can only stand so much. Click on the cover to order it now! Oh, and I changed the countdown number. I really don’t know what day it is. 🙂

“Have you ever seen the like, Calliope?”

The awe-filled tone of the woman beside her made Fatin pause.

“I must have the dark one. Did you see him at the auction? His cock is twice the size of my husband’s.”

The women giggled and moved away, seeking a word with Aliyah while they pointed toward the dark one, Eirik.

Fatin didn’t want to care that the man they bargained to have had been the one she’d been most reluctant to steal.

From the first moment she’d heard his name spoken by the mining camp supervisor on New Iceland, she’d fixed her sights on the Ulfhednar heir, even knowing that kidnapping one of the ruling class was a capital offense. The temptation had been too great. A chance to exploit his plight and the unsavory practice of sexual slavery was more than she’d hoped for.

Why had he kept his identity a secret for so long? Did he fear he’d be killed the moment he did expose the crime? The excuse was plausible. Still, she didn’t think much frightened the man who’d surprised and enthralled her at every turn. Perhaps he hoped to escape and avoid the humiliation of having been bested by a woman, a situation made all the worse by his gentle treatment of her.

She’d posed as a contracted sex-thrall at the remote mining camp. As soon as he’d entered the small, curtained sleep chamber she’d been assigned to await his pleasure, he’d been eager to take her. Moments after yanking closed the curtain, he’d slid away the blanket she’d used to hide her naked form. As any man presented with a whore for his use, he’d begun without any thought except for his own pleasure.

However, once he’d plunged inside her, and she’d gasped, shocked by the fierceness of his invasion and the size of his sex, he’d gentled his assault, taking the time and care to pull her into an arousal so strong, she’d felt a moment’s regret about causing him harm.

“What is your name?” he’d murmured against her lips as she’d straddled him while he sat at the edge of his sleeping bench.

“Fatin,” she’d whispered, meeting his gaze, liking the heat banked in his blue eyes.

His chest had expanded, pressing against her swollen nipples. “You please me,” he’d said, in his deep, rumbling baritone.

She’d felt a twinge of conscience, knowing what she would do.

Then, he’d said, “I’ll see you’re well compensated.”

She’d bitten her lower lip to still her disappointment. For just a moment, she’d thought he’d seen her as more than just a whore. Her glance fell away to hide the anger welling up inside her.

With a callused finger, he’d nudged up her face. She’d tilted it, meeting his kiss, her eyes never closing.

He’d gently suckled her lower lip, seducing rather than forcing her cooperation.

So many thoughts had swirled inside her head. Regrets that she hadn’t met him under other circumstances because she would have liked to know whether he would have treated her any differently. Fear, because he was brawnier than any of the others she’d captured and could easily overcome her if she didn’t catch him unawares. And gods, how he filled her.

With her channel stretching to accommodate his girth, her breath had seeped into his mouth. She’d loosed a sigh and then a delicate moan that seemed to increase the tension in his body.

He’d pushed back her hair, cupped her head in one large palm, and tipped her face higher still to deepen the kiss.

As she rose and sank on his cock, she’d panted and shivered.

Eirik had growled deep inside his chest, sounding every inch the barbarian he was. She’d given him a little half-smile while her womb quickened, then shook back her hair.

He’d gripped her hips hard, urging her to rise and fall faster.

Her orgasm had caught her by surprise, flaring outward from her pussy, causing her belly to tremble, her hips to buck. Ripples had slid along her channel to caress his thick length.

“How you please me, darkling,” he’d whispered.

She’d been impaled on his cock, a powerful orgasm unlike anything she’d ever experienced before rippling through her, when she’d plunged the needle into his neck and activated the locator for her men to find and transport her from the planet’s surface to the ship’s hold.

How embarrassing that had been—their molecules reassembling on the cargo floor, their groins still intimately connected. His cock had slid from inside her, and she’d had to force steel into a body gone liquid and pliant. In that moment, she’d hated him for making her doubt herself, for making her feel as though she’d committed a great sin.

He was just a man. Led by his bollocks. Like all the other captives she’d ensnared.

And yet, she’d visited his cage often to ensure he’d survived and to ogle and admire his large frame. His fury with her hadn’t lessened her interest even a little bit.

Only to herself, and reluctantly, would she admit that she was obsessed with the fierce giant, although he was likely angry enough to kill her if she came within reach. Even now, she sought glimpses of him through the crowd, her gaze eating up every inch of his tall, muscled physique.

“There you are,” came a soft, drawling voice.

Fatin jerked toward Aliyah, who watched her with her avid black gaze.

A dark brow rose. “The women already clamor for first rights. But I think you’ve earned your choice. Would you like to start the games?”

Heat filling her cheeks, Fatin shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of the spectacle soon to occur.

“Come,” Aliyah said, her long-fingered hand wrapping around Fatin’s wrist to pull her through the crowd. “You don’t have to pay. Consider this a bonus for your hard work.”

“You’ve already been very generous, mistress,” Fatin gritted out between her teeth, dragging her feet.

“I saw the way you looked at that dark-haired barbarian. Your eyes ate him up. And the way he looked at you during the auction—” Aliyah broke off and laughed, fanning herself with her free hand. “His ‘attention’ was all for you, my dear.”

The crowd parted, making a path that led straight to the Vikings lined up at the front of the room. Every hard, male gaze homed in on her approach.

Panic surging through her body, Fatin dug in her heels and tried to break free of Aliyah’s grip, but the whore-mistress was surprisingly strong. Fatin was unwilling to use any fighting moves she’d learned to harm the woman. Too much rode on Aliyah’s continued goodwill.

“Really, mistress,” Fatin said breathlessly as they neared the edge of the crowd, “I’m very happy to stand back and let another have the first taste.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it.” Aliyah drew back her arm and flung Fatin forward.

Fatin spun toward the Vikings. The one standing next to Eirik opened his arms, and she landed against his naked chest.

Laughter surrounded them—high-pitched gales from the women, low, edgy chuckles from the men—but not a hint of humor softened the tall blond Viking’s taut features. His hazel eyes narrowed, and those tree-trunk arms of his banded around her ribs to give her a crushing embrace.

She remembered how Hakon had insisted that she strip in a cold, narrow passage inside the Berserkirs’ keep, shortly after she’d “accidently” bumped into him. His gaze had hungrily raked her frame, his features growing frighteningly intense as she’d peeled away the layers of her clothing.

Again, as before, she shivered at the way his features sharpened with deadly intent.

Unable to catch her breath, she felt her face heat, her lungs burn. Pressed so close, his hardening ridge digging into her belly, she wondered if he’d simply keep squeezing until he snapped her back or smothered her. Was the thought of killing her really so arousing? “Bastard!”

“Hakon . . .” Eirik’s voice cut through the tension with a note of warning.

The tall barbarian grunted, and then abruptly opened his arms.

She stumbled backward, catching herself before she fell in a heap at his feet.

Eirik’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, tightening like a manacle. The crowd around them grew silent. Perhaps they’d already heard the tale of the men’s capture and knew she was the one responsible. Like the ruthless, bloody games they enjoyed watching in the arena, did they hope to see her pulled apart?

The moment stretched. Fatin swallowed hard; her gaze locked with Eirik’s icy stare.

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t ease either. With his fierce, glittering stare drilling into hers, he dragged down his arm, forcing her closer.

And even though she resisted, stiffening her body in rejection and scuffing her boots on the marble, he pulled her inexorably closer.

When her breasts touched his chest, his strong arms clamped around her. Again, she fought for breath, but this time her inability to draw air into her lungs wasn’t entirely due to how hard his arms constricted.

Eirik’s cold blue gaze swept her face. A tight, cruel smile curved his lips. “Fatin,” he growled, “at last . . .”

She tossed back her hair. “At last? You sound so satisfied,” she whispered harshly, pretending she wasn’t nearly fainting from lack of oxygen and because he was the one holding her so tightly. “You seem so eager to hold me close. I thought you would have felt well rid of me. Yet, here we are.”

“You underestimate my desire,” he said, his voice grinding as deliciously as his cock did against her belly.

His head bent over hers, forcing hers back. To anyone watching, theirs would appear to be a lover’s eager embrace.

“You may have him, Fatin,” Aliyah said, her lilting voice sounding distant. “A demonstration of your acquisition’s prowess is in order.”

A demonstration. Her throat closed as burning panic burbled up. Something of her fear must have entered her expression.

The corners of his lips curled higher. “You may have me,” he whispered. “Here? Now? Do you tremble because they will see or because I am the one who will thunder inside you?”

He couldn’t have used coarser words and made her feel any more uneasy. The picture he painted in her mind, of a storm unleashed, made her knees weaken.

The arm banding her back caught her before she slid downward. His eyelids drifted down to narrowed slits while his gaze remained locked with hers. “We have unfinished business, sweet Fatin.”