Bride of Grendel: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

great serpent-like things circling them. She saw two snapping viciously at each other, but none of them attacked Grendel. The light grew stronger just as Sigrun felt herself growing faint from lack of air. It seemed to be coming from an underwater cave in the side of the cliff. Grendel swam into the cave, through the opening and then upward. Sigrun thought her lungs were going to burst and was about to take in a long, deadly breath of water when they broke through the surface.
                  Grendel pulled her from the water and set her gently on the floor, but she spent several moments gasping and sputtering before she could gather herself enough to look around. When she did, she was surprised by what she saw.
                  It was a huge cave, beautifully vaulted. The walls glittered with gemstones. A fire blazed in a massive hearth on the far side, opposite the pool from which they had emerged. She wondered how the smoke vented out, but she also saw arched openings to other caves and passages; there must have been tunnels and chutes that led all the way to the surface. The floor was too smooth — polished-seeming — to be natural; the arches and walls, too, were so regular — this was no untouched, natural cave. This was a work of architecture. She realized that pillars that she’d thought to be stalactites at first glance were in fact columns and were intricately carved with flowers, vines, and dragons. A huge stone table, also elaborately carved, stood near the hearth and held glowing gold goblets, bowls, and platters, all sized to fit very large hands. A massive sword hung on the wall beside the fireplace. Some people had suggested that Grendel began his attacks on Heorot because he was jealous of Horthgar’s magnificent mead hall; those people were clearly wrong. Grendel’s subterranean lair put Hrothgar’s monument to shame.
                  Sigrun realized that she was shivering violently. The cold night air followed by the icy water had chilled her to the bone, and her heavy clothes were soaked through. Water dripped in rivulets from her hair and her dress and was pooling on the floor around her. Grendel was watching her closely. He picked her up again and carried her to the fire, setting her on her feet beside the warm hearth. With a clawed finger he pulled her shawl from her shoulders and then pulled off the brooches holding her dress. The sodden clothes slipped to the floor, leaving only a thin, lightweight shift. Sigrun bent to pull off her boots and stockings but planned to keep her underdress on. It too was soaked, cold and clinging to her skin. Even beside the blazing fire it would take a while to dry, and she continued to shake from the cold.
                  Grendel grunted impatiently.
                  Sigrun had been so distracted by the swim, the hall, her soaked and frozen condition, she suddenly realized that here she was, alone with the monster in its lair.
                  She looked at the creature in front of her. He was huge, hulking — but he held himself upright. She had heard descriptions of a hunched, misshapen being. She could well imagine Grendel crouched and animal-like, moving swiftly in his attack, and she could imagine that his sheer size and the terror he provoked might impress witnesses with memories of him more ghastly and monstrous than was actually the case. Aside from his size, he seemed almost — but not quite — human. She could not decide whether it was light fur or thick hair that covered most of his body. He was barefoot, impervious, apparently, to the winter cold, but he wore a short skirt of skins around his waist. His torso — some had suggested he was covered with scales, and this was why no weapon could bite his flesh — was covered, she saw now, with a coat of finely wrought chain mail under a sheepskin vest.
                  And then there was that not-quite-human face, and the