House of Freya: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 1) by Gwynn Jones Page A

This boar was dressed in battle gear, an armored harness over its thick gray coat. He was no wild creature. He glared down at her, but he was not charging. She dropped her hand, keeping her eyes on his. Another boar, equally massive, joined him. The first tilted his head toward the second, grunting. They were talking about her, she was sure of it. Deciding what to do? She cleared her throat, drawing their attention.
                  "Excuse me. I am seeking the great hall Volkvangr. I was told that I would find it in these parts. Do you hail from it? Am I close?"
                  They bent their heads together again. Then the first turned back to her.
                  "Volkvangr gets few visitors." The boar's voice was rough, his words thick around his tusks. Sigrun found herself remarkably unsurprised that he was speaking. She'd started the conversation, after all. And she'd certainly experienced stranger things. "It is not a place that is easily found. But you are nearly there. Come. We will take you."  
                  The boars waited for Sigrun to climb up to them. At the top of the crest, she could see a steady downslope sweeping out before her. Below, in the distance but not terribly far, she saw the glow of lights and the outline of a large building.
                  "Climb up on my back. I will carry you. It will be quicker."
                  Sigrun was glad for the offer. She had covered so much ground in the past few days. She was tired and cold. She took hold of the harness and pulled herself up onto the beast's back. He was so broad, it would be hard to keep a grip with her legs alone, so she dropped low, lying against him. He was warm, and she buried her face in his neck, her fur cloak pulled up around her ears to protect against the wind. The boars broke into a run, and once she got used to the rocking of his gait, the motion, the warmth, the feel of the powerful animal's muscles rippling beneath her all lulled her into a dreamy state. Her thoughts drifted over recent events and encounters, over the memory of strong hands on her body, her legs wrapped around her lover's waist, the feel of him inside her. Yet here she was now, alone again and far from his embraces. Nor was he the first she'd had to leave. Was this to be her destiny? Fleeting encounters, brief spaces of bliss? And yet she was the one who had made this choice. She was compelled to keep on.
                  Sigrun lost track of the time; it was neither a short while nor a very long one before the boars slowed their pace. Rousing herself, Sigrun lifted her head for a better view and gaped at the sight. They were still several yards from the hall, and yet the structure loomed up so large, it was too big for her to take it all in. The walls had to be over a hundred feet high. They curved away — was it a circle? An oval? They stretched so far, she couldn't tell. The surface was smooth, ice or polished stone, or glass, and it glowed. Regular points of light, as though torches were embedded in the walls, gleamed along the length of it. It was breathtakingly beautiful, warm and cold at once. They approached a gate, maybe twenty feet high and nearly as wide. The entrance stood open, but it was guarded by two enormous boars on each side.
                  Sigrun's escorts stopped, and she slid down to stand beside them. The boars exchanged a few snorts. The one who had carried her nodded toward the entrance.
                  "Come. We go inside."
                  They stepped through the gateway into a long, broad corridor punctuated with a series of heavy doors and grates ready to be shut against an enemy. There was no easy way into this place. But she wondered, who would ever dare to attack it?
                  She glanced at the animals walking beside her and then looked again. Without breaking their stride, the boars shook