Siren Slave by Aurora Styles Read Free Book Online

Enbarr. Pompey cursed the princess and her insane animal again but ran to direct his men to catch the horse. They never would, so Freya felt no concern. Her focus was still on Etainen. Time had slowed, at least for her.
    “Oh, you’re waiting.” She didn’t know what overcame her, only that she was very damp between her thighs and somehow Etainen’s neck was clasped in her hands, her mouth fastened to his. His lips were firm, parted on a gasp of surprise. She took her advantage and probed his wine-flavored mouth. She’d never kissed anyone before, but it seemed as if her body knew exactly what to do. Her body was firmly pressed against the hard planes of his chest.
    She did not know why she opened her eyes, perhaps to see his face up close. When she decided to break the rule of kissing always requiring closed eyes, she discovered he was disregarding it, too. Twin storm-colored pools stared back at her in wary surprise. His cock, however, had all the certainty his eyes did not. She pulled away, made an “eep” sound, then fled into the surrounding crowd.
    As soon as she was away from Etainen, her body calmed and reality set in. The tears came. The beginning of twilight concealed a misplaced stone, and she landed on her sore knee. With a grimace, she picked herself up.
    She was a complete fool. She’d gotten Ulf killed.
    And she’d been untrue to Siegfried with Etainen. She had heard about the Cimbri chieftain wanting to work with Rome even though some tribesmen vocally opposed him.
    Odd though, Etainen had mentioned eight. Siegfried’s entire boat, or at least the diagram she had stuffed in her mattress, was entirely built in multiples of eight.
    Still, she was glad he’d made the Roman general release her. She’d been about to rail at the general, which could have been disastrous. She got much more done behind the scenes. No, no rousing suspicion. That would ruin everything.
    ****
    Freya found her clothing, a vivid blue toga, hidden in shrubbery where she’d left it. She wished she could wear Tyrian purple, but only Romans of certain stature were permitted to wear that color. She piled on the strings of pearls and scrubbed her face in a fountain with a statue of a leaping horse. The box and what was inside it remained concealed where she’d hidden the clothing.
    She then made her way to her parents’ audience chamber to see if they had any idea of what she’d done. It was better to deal with that immediately. And perhaps she’d catch another peek at Etainen.
    “Freya,” her mother’s voice called. The leather shoes under her gray toga thudded on the gray stone of the corridor, lit by the thin arrow slots and torches. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Clearly, I have to do things for myself, because none of the staff could find you. You’re getting married tomorrow.”
    Freya turned and forced a smile. “I found a quiet place to write and lost track of the time.”
    “Please tell me you’ve not been drinking yet?”
    “No.” She thought of the blueberry ale…and the ale she’d had during her excursion in the market. “No. I must present my best face to Etainen.”
    Adele examined Freya’s face. “Then you might want to show a face that isn’t scratched.”
    Freya wished she’d taken the time to go to her room first, where she could have covered the abrasions with face paint.
    Her mother had already moved on to the next point in her lecture. “Remember what I told you about acting responsibly. A man is supposed to be the one drinking and carousing…and falling.” She grimaced. “You are supposed to keep him in line, not join him in the drinking and carousing. I can smell it on your breath.”
    “Of course, Mother.”
    “And you have a new lady’s maid.”
    “A new one? Why? What’s wrong with Kirsa?” Kirsa was a bit surly and only ever talked of handsome men, but she’d been Freya’s maid for years now.
    “This woman came to the palace, begging for the position…more so