Captured by Melinda Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

game. She’d studied it after seeing it featured in a folk tale she’d read. A witch had played the game, what Venise thought of as an early precursor to chess, with a warrior who wanted to be victorious in battle.
    She’d told him if he beat her in hneftafl, he’d win the battle. The soldier had lost, and the witch had taken his soul. To her, the story had been a cautionary tale against gambling. She’d remember that before placing any wagers with the man who now sat across from her.
    The main gist of the game was for the main player to protect his king and get it to the corner piece. Her pieces were of dark wood and the king was light. That meant she would be trying to keep Rugoff from getting to the edge.
    Maybe while they were playing they would develop some way to communicate better than they were right now. One or two words at a time didn’t exactly made for great conversation, or help develop a bond that might make the two of them trust each other, since they seemed to be stuck here, together.
    Maybe if they could communicate they could figure a way out of here.
    “Or maybe I should just click my heels together three times.” She snorted at her own sarcasm, then glanced at him when he spoke.
    “ Hvat ?” She understood that word. It meant he didn’t understand what she’d said.
    “Sorry.” She picked up a board piece and moved it diagonally. Soon they were moving pieces, laughing and trying to outwit each other in play. True, they couldn’t understand what they were saying to each other, but body movements were plenty right now.
    They playfully slapped at each other as they maneuvered the players around the board. He won the game and she wasn’t surprised.
    Maybe he sat here night after night doing nothing more than coming up with strategies to beat himself at the game. Or he might work with the numerous weapons she saw on the wall. They were all of exquisite handcraftsmanship. Did that mean he’d made them himself, or had they been here when his father had outwitted the witch?
    The scholar in her wanted to take notes on everything that was happening. Then she could write up a paper when she returned to the real world. No, she couldn’t do that. They’d fit her for a little white jacket if she did.
    “Really, it all happened, doctor, and no, my name is not Alice .” No, a scholarly paper would not work. The story would have to be fiction. Maybe she’d do a romance novel, complete with a half-naked Viking whose cock was always at full staff and ready to give her pleasure. If she did enough research, it could be very realistic.
    Of course, to do a proper investigation for a nice, hot erotic story she’d have to have sex with him; more than once. She grinned as she moved a piece for the opening of a new game.
    They traded moves, laughing and pulling at each other’s pieces in an effort to keep them from moving to a spot that would block the other. Their laughter filled the room and when Venise won the second match, and the third, she jumped up and danced around the room, shaking her hips and lifting her arms above her head.
    She stopped when she realized he was staring at her, and that the fabric of his tunic had tented, again. Or maybe it had been that way the whole time they’d been playing. After all, he’d been sitting down, and she couldn’t see it. And he hadn’t seen a woman in centuries. Of course his cock would get hard. And stay hard.
    “Sorry.” She sat back down in her chair. “I got carried away and—” He couldn’t understand her, so why was she apologizing?
    “It’s late.” She got back up, looking around the room. There was no semblance of a clock, or anything else that might tell her what time it was, or how long they’d been playing the game.
    The stark reality of today came back to slam her in the stomach. She’d allowed herself to think that everything was normal, that she was with a man she knew nothing about except what some woman told her, and she was probably