The Viking's Mate Hunt

Elisabeth’s POV

“Aah, yes! Harder! Harder, Gabe! I’m almost there! Oh yes!” I moaned loudly, arching my spine and throwing my head back.

Was it true? Far from it. I had already spit in my hand and rubbed it between my legs twice so he would think I was still soaking wet for him.

“I’m coming, Gabe! Harder!”

I breathed out my moans and slightly turned them up a notch—not screaming, but almost. A slight trembling in my thighs, dragging my nails up his back, and squeezing his dick a couple of times while he was pounding me like a dog in heat would get him there faster.

I should get a fucking Oscar!

His grunting became more carnal, like a dying squirrel, and his hips stiffened.

I tightened the muscles in my pussy yet again while lifting my ass off the bed and releasing my scream. I rolled my eyes back before closing them.

An Oscar for fucking! That would have been something to show off. I had to hold back the laughter.

“Fuck, baby! You’re so tight!”

He slumped down on top of me, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs. Warm and sweaty—yuck! He was turning limp inside me and started covering my neck with sloppy, wet kisses. A shiver went through my body, and I grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back slightly.

I just needed the car keys so I could go to work.

I made it just in time. I worked at an old, run-down gas station outside of town—late shifts and night shifts. It was a crappy and tedious job, but at least I got paid, and the old couple running it was super sweet.

The shift dragged on; a couple of bikers stopped by, and a young couple who seemed to be lost. That’s it.

At a quarter past midnight, I was finally on my way home. I stared straight ahead at the dark road—no streetlights, no passing traffic, and not even a single house. Driving home in the darkness always made me this way—spaced out. I never had any idea what awaited me at home.

Home.

I scoffed. It was an old dump, but it was the only place my mom could afford to rent, and this time, we had managed to keep it for over six months. Would all my things be scattered outside the house when I got back? It wouldn’t be the first time a landlord had thrown us out because Mom had missed one too many payments.

Would we still have electricity? Was it on fire? Was it filled with drunk, high, and nasty people? Was this the time I came home and found her dead?

I jumped in my seat, and the car swerved sharply. Sweat formed on my temples as I struggled to regain control. The car skidded to the side of the road, and my heart pounded wildly. My grip on the steering wheel was so tight it hurt, but I didn’t notice until I’d finally calmed down enough. My knuckles were white when I finally let go.

“What the fuck was that!?” I shouted at myself. Did I run over an animal? Did I space out so much that I imagined things?

I swallowed hard. Should I go out and check? And then what? Bring an injured animal home? I couldn’t afford to take it to the vet.

God, I need to calm down! I don’t even know if I hit anything. Maybe I missed it. Or it was just a freaking shadow.

Rummaging through my purse, I found my phone. 10%. Great. Just turning the flashlight on caused it to drop to 8%.

The crisp night air brushed against my face as I set one foot out the door, and my whole body froze. My head snapped to the side, and my heart pounded again, trying to break through my chest.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

A branch snapped, and I jumped back in, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s just an owl,” I murmured, fidgeting with the key. My hands were shaking, and I missed the ignition. The keys fell to the floor, and I dived down after them.

My imagination was running wild. Suddenly, the gravel crunched—behind the car, at the passenger side, under the car—and I fucking jammed the key in the ignition, pressing the pedal as hard as I could.

Gravel and dirt rocketed behind the vehicle before it lurched forward, and I held max speed all the way home. Not once did I look in the mirror, and not once did I slow down.

I’m going home now.

Driving up to the dark house I called home, I finally felt like I could breathe again. The place looked quiet—no cars in the driveway, my things weren’t thrown out on the sidewalk, no loud music, and no one stumbling around puking outside.

This could be a good night… or the end of everything as I knew it.

The only sound was the squeaking of the door as it opened. It was so quiet—way too quiet. Mom was usually home by now, but she couldn’t drive, and the last bus had passed half an hour ago. The air was cold, but it still smelled old and stale.

Fuck, the power was out again. I flicked the switch a couple of times before giving up. I was so sure I had paid the last bill. I sighed and glanced down at my phone—5%. Great. I need to find somewhere to charge it before I can sleep.

I decided to walk through the house to look for Mom before heading back out. Maybe Gabe was still awake. I could fake another orgasm if it meant sleeping in a warm bed and charging my phone at the same time.

With the cold light from the moon shining through the windows, I made my way from room to room.

Nothing. Nobody.

Not until I reached the bathroom.

I saw her the moment the door slid open—her dark and fragile silhouette against the cold, white floor. I held my breath, not daring to step closer. I waited, but it was impossible to tell if she was breathing or not.

“Mom?” My voice barely escaped, a pathetic whisper.

Nothing. Kneeling, I touched her hand. It was ice-cold—but it always was. Suddenly, she groaned and yanked her arm back.

I breathed out in relief, but anger, disappointment, and hatred washed over me as fast as the ease left my lungs.

Like always, I held it in. I bit my lip and started to scoop her up in my arms.

Sitting down on the bed beside her, I could see her face in the cold moonlight. The woman I called Mom was no longer my mom. There was nothing left of her—just skin and bones, bruises, and open wounds on her arms, ankles, and between her toes.

Her memories had faded, and her personality had drowned in liquor years ago. The only thing she knew and cared about was her next hit, money, and mumbling shit about my father—a man I never knew or met.

The only thing I knew of him was what she rambled about when she was about to pass out:

“He is a monster! I saved you. He is a monster! We don’t belong in this world! A monster! A nightmare! I saved you!”