Preview

“I think it’s about time you added deed to word,” Sonja sneered. “I was beginning to think you were not merely ‘civilized,’ but neutered!”

The cold was forgotten as Sonja’s slashing blade became like a welding torch held to Bruce’s guard. With every hard parry, he felt the heat of her aggression singe his arm. He made ripostes, but they didn’t find her body, or discovered her blade in the way.

“Then you prefer a mad dog to a tame one?” Bruce asked.

His sword arced upward to catch an overhead slash from Sonja. Steel met steel in resounding song. Sparks flew from the clash. Sonja’s bright eyes narrowed, enraged that Bruce showed such skill after all her mockery.

“Hardly mad!” she barked. “I prefer the wolf be as nature intended, not reduced to the cringing little rats the high ladies of the walled cities carry around in their arms!”

Her blade swept into Bruce’s, the two metals clanging as they met. A lesser man would’ve found his arm broken by that block, but Bruce drove forward, beating back Sonja’s sword, forcing her to give ground.

“In my time, wolves are hunted down by men,” he told her.

His next thrust managed to pin Sonja’s cloak to the cliffside behind her, but in the next instant, she herself was nowhere to be found. Now clad only in her chainmail, heated by the battle to the point of sweat, she hurled herself to Bruce, lips parted in a snarl.

“And in mine, they’re free to do as they like. Feed. Fight. Fornicate. But I’ve already fed…”

She meant to knock his sword aside with her charge, if not disarm him entirely. Bruce waited until the last moment, then—before their swords met—he lowered his blade and sidestepped. As Sonja passed him in a rush, his hand darted out and caught her loincloth. With Sonja’s own momentum pulling against it, the leather cord that held the loincloth broke, and it came away in Bruce’s hand.

“A shame you can’t fight, either,” he goaded.

Sonja looked down at her bare cunt unashamedly, only amused by the gleaming wetness on it that now stood revealed. She didn’t often grow aroused at violence, no matter how barbaric her reputation was, but when the fight grew as strenuous as this, all of her body became involved, even—perhaps most especially—her sex.

“Funny, you’ve almost got me in the mood for the last option. Shame there’s not a man present.”

Keeping his sword leveled at her and his body in a loose fighting stance, Bruce brought his off-hand down to his fly. He lowered his zipper, then hauled out his manhood—gratified to find Sonja’s raging eyes now become lost in awe. He was half-hard; not one to be aroused at violence either, but Sonja’s body was such that it demanded reaction.

“If you don’t recognize a man,” Bruce told her, “perhaps you’ve gone too long without examining one.”