Godsend by Elvira Bell
General Release Date: 10th August 2021
Word Count: 36,520
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 154
Genres:
EROTIC ROMANCE, GAY, GLBTQI, HISTORICAL, MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
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Book Description
Ari and Vidar are Viking warriors and blood brothers. Will handsome thrall Elric break their bond…or make it even stronger?
When young Saxon Elric is sold to Norse slave traders, he thinks that his life is over. He is brought across the sea to the settlement of the Norsemen and becomes the chief’s thrall, and neither the chief nor the warriors are lenient with him. Two of the warriors are different, though—Ari and Vidar. Elric senses that their bond goes beyond mere friendship, and wishes that he himself had someone who would care for him.
Ari and Vidar have been lovers for years, but they have to sneak away whenever they want to be together. Vidar is next in line to be leader, as the chief’s nephew, but he’s shy and insecure and only feels at home on the battlefield. Ari looks different than the other warriors, since his mother was of foreign descent, and he’s had to learn how to stand up for himself.
The two of them are blood brothers, linked together forever, but even though they are lovers they can’t go against the taboo that prohibits free men from being passive during sex. Ari feels that something is lacking, and Elric’s arrival gives him an idea—what if they invited Elric to join them in bed? The thought excites him, and Elric himself seems eager to please.
The only question is how Ari is supposed to get Vidar to agree to letting another man into their relationship…
They set sail the next day. Sven’s fine dragon ship left Bristol loaded to the brim with goods and men. Twenty-five crewmembers, half of them handling the sails and oars while the rest kept the thralls and livestock in check. Ari couldn’t wait to head up north. The trade was crucial to the well-being of everyone in the settlement, but the endless sea journeys were rough. He longed for slow winter evenings back home, when the fire crackled and it was too dark for anyone to notice if he put his hand on Vidar’s thigh under the table.
He had been friends with Vidar for five years now. He’d come to Sven’s house at sixteen—a small, skinny boy who’d been recently orphaned and who a man like Sven would never have looked twice at, if it hadn’t been for his skill with the bow. Ari had always known he was different, and that he needed to be able to stand his ground in a fight. He’d made his first, clumsy bow himself, practicing out in the woods for hours every day. He’d realized he was a talented archer, and soon others had seen it too. Men who had used to spit after him because he was the dark-haired, dark-eyed son of a poor farmer and his wife, a woman who was the offspring of foreign thralls. No one had laughed at him after he’d joined their archery competitions and won every single time. And when he’d lost his parents over the course of a fortnight, it hadn’t taken long until Sven had offered him a spot among his warriors.
Vidar had been there then. Big, strong, fully bearded even at nineteen but with a soft, shy look in his eyes and a quiet voice he rarely used. The other men were loud, taking up as much space as possible with their long legs, but Vidar kept to the corner and sipped his mead in peace. Ari had sat down with him one night because he was the only one who never made fun of him, and he had realized that he enjoyed Vidar’s calm, silent company. A year later they had become blood brothers, slitting their palms and pressing the wounds together. Not all blood brothers were as close as they were—they had shared more than blood with each other. Ari had slept with plenty of girls, but none of those sweaty mating sessions were anything compared to the kisses and touches he’d received from Vidar. They belonged to each other with a bond Ari had never expected to form with anyone outside of his family.
Still, there was something lacking. Things he and Vidar could never give each other.
He stood by the waterline, bow at the ready, while the slaves were brought down from the pen. Sven had asked him to keep watch, to make sure no one tried to make a run for it. “But I don’t want them damaged. Don’t shoot unless there’s nothing else to be done.”
Ari certainly hoped he wouldn’t have to shoot anyone. These were poor, miserable slaves, not warriors. He kept his eyes on the heavily guarded group being ushered down to the ship, linked together by ropes around their necks. Had his own grandparents been sold at a market like this? Or had their hometowns been raided? He had never asked his mother a single thing about their family history. Now it was too late—though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“Looks like the pretty boy from yesterday calmed down.” Halvdan, who stood by Ari’s side with his sword unsheathed, grinned. “He really put up a fight, but a night in the pen seems to have done him good.”
Ari searched the row of thralls to get a look at the boy. He must be the one Vidar had mentioned. About half of them were men, all young—but once he spotted the thrall at the end of the line, he knew it had to be him. He was neither tall nor short, with a slender build and straight, dark hair falling to his shoulders. He really was pretty, and Ari found himself wondering what his name was.
The thralls reached the shore. Just as they were about to board Sven’s ship, the dark-haired boy tore himself loose and ran.
“Stop him!” Sven’s voice was like ice. “Someone stop him!”
Ari didn’t think. Throwing his bow aside, he sprinted after the thrall and had no trouble catching up with him. He got hold of the boy’s leg and pulled him off his feet, then pressed himself on top of him and shoved his wrists into the ground.
“Bastard!”
Ari had been to these lands enough times to recognize the insult the boy spat at him. “Do as you’re told,” he said in the strange language, hoping the boy would understand his meaning. His English was better than most of the men’s, but he didn’t like using it. Especially not in a situation like this. The other man’s body was hot and shivering under him and Ari couldn’t help noticing how perfectly curved his ass was.
No—he pushed that thought away. Vidar would be hurt if he knew. Why was he even thinking about such things in a situation like this? He grabbed the boy’s wrists harder, ignoring his muttered curses.
The next moment, it was over. Sven and the others came, laughing heartily as they helped Ari up and grabbed hold of the thrall. Ulv and Halvdan tied his wrists and ankles together and Ulv slung him over his shoulder and carried him off to the ship without listening to his loud protests. Ari looked after him, telling himself he wasn’t trying to get a look at his ass.
“Well done, Ari.” Sven gave him a nod. “Knew I could trust you.”
“More trouble than he’s worth, that thrall,” Halvdan said. “Isn’t he?”
Vidar stood at the edge of the group. When his eyes met Ari’s, Ari felt guilt washing over him.
“Not necessarily,” Sven replied to Halvdan’s question. “Now get on board, all of you, and let’s get out of here.”
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Elvira Bell
Elvira Bell lives in Sweden and spends most of her time writing, reading or watching movies. Her weaknesses include, but are not limited to: vintage jazz, musicals, kittens, oversized tea cups, men in suits, the 18th century, and anything sparkly.
Elvira writes m/m romance and has a penchant for historical settings. She adores all things gothic and will put her characters through hell from time to time because she just loves watching them suffer. It makes the happy endings so much sweeter, after all.
Find out more at Elvira’s website.
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Evira Bell’s Godsend Giveaway
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