Bride of Grendel 2: Night of the Bear Man: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 3) Read Free Page A

fear for you. I fear for us. I fear that this killing has gotten into your blood. I fear, if you continue at this pace, for what you may become."
                  She felt him shift slightly beneath her. She looked up into his face. His eyes looked troubled, but she could not tell whether he understood what she was saying.
                  "Do you understand me? Do you understand what I am asking? I want you to stop these attacks on Heorot. I fear that if you don't it will all end badly for everyone."
                  He sighed, seemed to shrug his huge shoulders. He ran a clawed finger through her hair. She wondered if she could take this as a sign of acquiescence.
                  "Mmm... Beautiful..." he murmured. Whether he understood or agreed or not, she could tell that he was changing the subject.
     
                  Grendel did not heed her request. He waited several days — long enough for her to feel some hope that he had listened, that he had decided to stop. She had fallen asleep in his arms, satisfied and spent from his attentions, her thighs quivering and her clit still trilling from the play of his tongue upon it.
                  He had covered every inch of her body with his touch, the gentle raking of his claws and rasp of his catlike tongue. He had worked interminably at her pussy and ass, probing and massaging, making her come again and again. When he had finally set to fucking her with his tremendous cock, she was like putty, like butter, melting around him. When he came, it was like they were one.
                  But when she awoke later, sometime in the middle of the night, he was gone. She felt a chill run down her spine. Something in her gut told her to be afraid.
                  She waited for him to return, her eyes never leaving the pool.
                  When, hours later, he burst through the water, her heart leaped into her throat.
                  His eyes were blazing. Red water dripped from him, clots of blood tangled in his fur. He bared his teeth, and his mouth was crimson. Sigrun felt a surge of nausea at the sight of hair and gobbets of flesh caught between his fangs. She got to her feet. He glared at her, and she could see no recognition, no intelligence at all, in his eyes — only frenzy. He roared, spitting carnage, and bounded toward her.
                  She threw up her arms, crossed in front of her, as he hit her, smashing her back against the wall. He would have pinned her, his arm across her throat, had she not gotten her arms up to block him. The blast of his breath, the metallic tang of blood and a sweet smell of rot, was sickening. She felt his massive erection pressing against her, but she wasn't sure whether he intended to fuck her or tear her to pieces. He reached down to lift up her skirt. He wanted sex. But she knew that she couldn't trust him in this state not to kill her in the process. And she would not let him have her like this.
                  "No, Grendel," she gasped, mustering all her strength, "No!" Somehow, with a burst of power, she pushed him away. He stumbled back several steps, surprised.
                  "Grendel! Stop this!" She hoped that he would come to his senses, but his angry roar told her otherwise. He paused for mere seconds, a few heartbeats, before he was back upon her. She felt, in the first beat, at the sight of his blind rage, paralyzed with fear. She was going to die. She couldn't think. But then, her heart pounding in her ears, it was like everything suddenly slowed down, the seconds stretching out to give her time to react.
                  She realized that her back was against the mighty sword that hung on the wall beside the fire. It was huge, surely it was too heavy for her even to lift, let alone pull it from its mount or wield it against a foe. But there was no time for these