Freya Save Me!

By D. E. La Faye

On the first night of Yule, a woman dead to her village desperately tries to survive the night. As her chances dwindle, one of the village berserkers stumbles into her life, saving it, and claiming her. 

 

Over twelve often turbulent days of Yule, the two learn to work together to save their budding love, their lives, and the village that tried to sacrifice her. 

 

Fall in love with our viking couple through this spicy and occassionally violent love story. 

 

May Freya save them all!

 

Well, most of them....

 

TW: attempted rape scene, death (human and animal), rough sex

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. E. La Faye
• Release date: Jul 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223310792

D. E. La Faye

D. E. La Faye is like any writer that daydreams too vividly, gets swept away too easily, and feels too deeply. Writing is her happy place. Here you'll find her daydreams flushed out with ample spice. Her worlds play by her rules, catering to her preferences, principally of strong women, or eventually strong women, who embrace their darkness as well as their libidos. But also of werewolves existing in multiple, brooding forms, time being an illusion that can be molded, true love existing, dragons hoarding more than gold, etc.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Freya Save Me!

Sign up for D. E. La Faye's Mailing List

Freya Save Me!

Frigid fingers scratched desperately at her hair, trying in vain to hide away her wild, golden locks beneath a hooded cloak. If she was spotted she’d be dragged back and bound to that blasphemous altar once more. She’d been given a tiny sliver of hope when her father had cut her bindings. Try as she might, she couldn’t let it go. If only he’d brought her boots as well as the cloak. The frozen ground tore at her bare feet as she ran aimlessly, unsure of where to go or what to do. 

She knew she was a dead woman. Knowing neither where she should, nor could go. Yet something compelled her forward. She willed herself to keep moving, dressed in nothing but a thin ceremonial shift dress and a ragged wool cloak, the frosty chill of the winter’s night seeping through and nipping at her slender body. 

Moonlight illuminated her path during this midnight hour. It’d be another week before it was full. This would have been an especially auspicious Yule, but not this year, not for her. And all because of that vile woman and those spineless fools.

She couldn’t think of them now. No more burning tears would she tolerate to fall. She had permitted plenty when the last of her village left her bound to that altar. They’d offered her as a sacrifice to Freya in nothing but that thin, white dress. It was to Freya that she had called out as those tears had fallen. It was to Freya that she beseeched mercy as her fear and rage and hurt flowed from her. It had been ages since her village had made unwilling human sacrifices, and everyone knew why she’d been chosen.

Her goddess Freya had nothing to do with it. 

Regardless of the cold, she was simply numb now, inside and out. How much farther she could wander she did not know. But wander on she did. 

When the first howl came from over the farthest hill, she’d frozen in fear for but a moment before hurrying onward. Now their calls were closer, and she could no longer identify where they were coming from. One moment they were in front of her, the next they were behind. Now they’d stopped completely, making her all the more fearful. 

She pulled the cloak tighter against her slender, shaking frame, mostly from fear, but also futilely trying to guard against the chill. A nearby rustling to her left stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face it. Nothing. A few more reticent steps and another din sounded behind her. This time she spared no glance, quickening her pace as her aching feet burned from the cold. Her stinging and weary muscles screamed for respite, but their plea went unheeded. Her heart raced and her chest heaved with every strained breath. Her heavy panting made clouds about her as she again pleaded for Freya to save her. Not that it would do much good, not now anyway. 

A flash of movement in front of her, large and growling. Its lips snarled back, teeth bared, a massive wolf crept methodically towards her. More rustling from her left, though she dare not take her eyes off of the danger before her. A roar pierced through the uncaring night as a bare chested man, adorned with the skin of a great bear upon his head and back, barreled towards the wolf. 

She might have screamed, but no one would have heard it, or no one would have cared. The village was celebrating the beginning of Yule inside their warm longhouses and the chieftain’s safe great hall alike. The cheers of merriment filled their heads and homes as they filled their bellies, emptied their balls, and celebrated the season- hoping the gods approved of their sacrifices. Here, in the dead of the night and miles away from any warmth, the man tore into the wolf with reckless abandon as two more beasts appeared to aid their alpha. 

The young woman could see that life had quickly left the first wolf; its frayed body lay in a pool of its own blood. The man seemed to sense the impending attack from the two new wolves behind him. Before either could even scrape him he had turned, lunging at the first, the second coming after him from the side. Its bite landed, deep. Teeth piercing flesh as it latched onto the man, moving with his movements. The man seemed only bothered by how the attached wolf slowed his actions. 

Terrified by right, the young woman began to frantically look around, desperate to help despite her frailty. A large branch lay on the other side of the man-wolf tangle. She ran by the ensnared trio, having abandoned the last of her sense. Awkwardly picking up the branch, she turned and swiftly