Vikings Unleashed: 9 modern Viking erotic romances
Author: Kate Pearce
Date: 2014-10-07 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Anthologies; Paranormal; Romance; Erotica; Paranormal Romance; Historical; Contemporary; Contemporary Romance
Description: Hide your virgins! #1 Viking Romance on Amazon, Top 10 Sci-Fi Romance! These are not your mother's Vikings. Nine biker, shifter, sci-fi and paranormal Viking erotic romances: modern, sexy versions of the original alpha male bad boy heroes. Nine brand new bedtime stories! VIKING FIRE by award-winning author CRYSTAL JORDAN. Wolf-shifter Erik once betrayed the only woman he ever loved, the shieldmaiden Bryn, and it cost both their lives. Now, they serve the gods as immortal warriors, and an ancient prophecy forces them together to try to stop the coming apocalypse. What they don’t expect is for t
Rights: reserved

Contents

Viking Fire by Crystal Jordan

At the Viking’s Command by Anne Marsh

Hel’s Belles by Dayna Hart

The Viking Queen’s Men by Holley Trent

Taming the Viking’s Dragon by Shawntelle Madison

A Viking's Peace by Zoe York

Viking's Heart by Loribelle Hunt

Viking’s Fury by Saranna DeWylde

Viking Unbound by Kate Pearce

VIKINGS

UNLEASHED

HIDE YOUR VIRGINS

9 modern erotic romances

by

Crystal Jordan, Anne Marsh, Dayna Hart, Holley Trent, Shawntelle Madison, Zoe York, Loribelle Hunt, Saranna DeWylde and Kate Pearce

VIKING FIRE

Twilight of the Gods, Book 1

by

Crystal Jordan

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

When I was first asked to join this Viking boxed set, I turned down the offer because I didn’t have any Viking ideas to write. Then I started poking around the internet and my local library to find out more about Norse mythology. The legend of Brynhild and Siegfried grabbed me immediately and just wouldn’t let go. They wanted a second chance at love, one that wasn’t poisoned by the greed of others. So, I hope I’ve done their reunion justice in Viking Fire.

Of course, now that they’ve had their chance in the spotlight, ideas for the other berserkers have started nagging at me. Vikings are just so demanding! Expect more in 2015 from the Twilight of the Gods series, where these heroes save the world and fall in love along the way.

~Crystal

GLOSSARY

Andvaranaut: a magical ring that can turn objects into gold. Created by Andvari; the giant Loki tricked him into giving up the ring. In revenge, Andvari cursed the ring to bring destruction and misfortune upon anyone who wore it. This curse was not broken until the valkyrie Brynhild carried the ring into purifying magical fire, thus sacrificing her life.

Asgard: the realm of the Viking gods, ruled by the god Odin and his wife, the goddess Freya.

Berserker: a Viking warrior who is able to shape-shift into a wolf. Those who die heroically in battle are brought to Valhalla by valkyries. These warriors become immortals who serve Odin.

Handmaiden: an immortal woman who serves a goddess, most often Freya. A handmaiden can shape-shift into a dove.

Jötunheim: the realm of giants.

Jötunn: the Viking word for a giant. Giants are enemies of the gods. Giants can often control the elements, but are not always humanoid in form (see Fenrir and Jörmungand).

Midgard: the realm of humans, also called Earth.

Niflheim: the realm of the dead, ruled by the giantess Hel.

Ragnarök: translates to the “Twilight of the Gods.” An ancient apocalyptic prophecy from the völva, which predicts the death of many major Norse figures, including Odin, Thor, Tyr, Frey, and Loki. The forces of Jötunheim and Niflheim battle the gods of Asgard for control of all the realms, including Midgard.

Valhalla: Odin’s hall, located in Asgard.

Valkyrie: a woman warrior, or shieldmaiden, who is able to shape-shift into a raven. A valkyrie can decide the outcome of battles between warriors, and bring those who die heroically to reside forever in Valhalla. Valkyries are immortals who serve Freya.

Völva: a prophetess and sorceress, also considered a witch.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Humans

Aslaug: deceased. Bryn and Erik’s daughter, Ivar’s mother.

Brynhild “Bryn” Ravencrest: a valkyrie who angered Odin and was cursed to live a mortal life. As a human woman, she fell in love with Erik, but they were both tricked into marrying other people. This betrayal eventually led to her death and return to Valhalla as an immortal. In modern-day America, she is a horse trainer and owner of Ravencrest Farm.

Erik Siegfried: a berserker and dragon-slayer, prophesied to fight alongside the gods during Ragnarök. When the battle is over, the gods are dead, and the world is consumed by water, he is supposed to be the only human man left and will repopulate the Earth.

Holm Sutherland: a berserker, working with Erik to stop Ragnarök.

Ivar Ragnarsson: also known as Ivar the Boneless, a berserker, born with a mild case of osteogenesis imperfecta so he must use a wheelchair in human form, grandson of Bryn and Erik.

Grimhild: deceased. A völva who used her magical abilities to create a potion to make Erik forget Bryn so he’d marry Gudrun. Created a similar potion to make Bryn believe Erik was Gunnar so she would marry him instead.

Gudrun: deceased. Sister of Gunnar, daughter of Grimhild. Erik’s wife, gave him a potion to make him forget his love for Bryn so he would marry her.

Gunnar: deceased. Bryn’s husband, brother of Gudrun, son of Grimhild, tricked Bryn into marrying him and then conspired to murder Erik after he found out Erik slept with Bryn.

Kata: a rogue valkyrie.

Nauma: A völva and handmaiden for Freya.

Valbjorn “Val” Makan: a berserker, working with Erik to stop Ragnarök. As a mortal, he fought with Ivar when they invaded England as part of the Great Heathen Army in 865 AD.

Svanhild: deceased. Erik and Gudrun's daughter. Nauma has a prophecy that a mortal descendent of Svanhild will help stop Ragnarök.

Gods and Giants

Eir: a minor goddess, associated with healing.

Fenrir: a giant wolf, son of Loki. The gods bound him using a magical rope, but he is prophesied to escape during Ragnarök to battle the gods.

Freya: a goddess, associated with beauty, love, sexuality, and fertility. Married to Odin, twin sister of Frey.

Frey: a god, associated with fertility, fair weather, and sunshine. Twin brother of Freya, married to the giantess Gerda.

Gerda: a giantess, wife of the god Frey.

Hel: a giantess, daughter of Loki, and ruler of Niflheim.

Heimdall: a god, associated with prophecy, wisdom, and social class. Carries the horn Gjallarhorn, which he will blow when he sees signs of Ragnarök.

Jörmungand: a giant dragon who sleeps at the center of the Earth, son of Loki.

Loki: a giant, a trickster who insulted the gods. The gods bound him to a rock with a snake mounted over him, which drips venom onto his face. When he thrashes from the pain, it causes earthquakes. He is prophesied to escape during Ragnarök to battle the gods.

Odin: a god, ruler of Asgard, king of the gods, married to Freya.

Sif: a goddess, associated with earth. Married to Thor.

Surtr: a giant, ruler of the giants who control fire. During Ragnarök, he will join forces with Hel, Fenrir, and Loki to awaken Jörmungand and battle the gods.

Thor: a god, associated with thunder, lightning, and strength. Wields the war-hammer Mjölnir. Son of Odin, married to Sif.

1

Ravencrest Farm, Virginia

“I need a shieldmaiden.”

Bryn was bent over, digging out a rock wedged under one of her horse’s shoes. At the sound of that voice, deep and rich and so familiar, every muscle in her body froze. Pain and longing and a million other emotions she refused to feel twisted through her soul. Moving as slowly as a thousand-year-old woman—which was actually how old she was—she carefully set the mare’s hoof on the ground and straightened but didn’t turn around to face him. “Well, you’ll need to keep looking, then.”

“Brynhild.”

“Just Bryn, thanks. Go away, Siegfried.” The gods knew he’d never show up here unless it was to fuck up her life. No, thanks. She might once have been a shieldmaiden, a valkyrie. She might still be able to shift into a raven and soar into the clouds. She might be older than dirt. But all of that meant she had an even lower bullshit tolerance than she did back in the day when Siegfried was the love of her life. Also her betrayer, her tormenter, the man who cost her mortal life. The man she’d betrayed in turn, a blood-soaked vengeance she’d never been able to cleanse from her stained, battered soul.

That was a long time ago, but some wounds never really healed, did they? She tried not to think about it. Ever.

She stroked a hand down the horse’s silky neck. Unhooking the cross ties, she snapped a lead line on to the mare’s halter, and walked her to her stall.

No sound gave away the fact that he’d followed her, but she was keenly aware of his presence, his nearness, his ability to throw her off-balance. Tingles skipped over her skin, and she tried to ignore the reaction.

His voice came from directly behind her when she latched the stall. “I’ve used Siegfried as my surname since I came to America. A hundred years ago. Maybe more.”

“Okay.” She infused as much disinterest into the word as she could manage.

“Erik is what you can call me now.”

“I prefer to call you gone.” She set off down the wide, concrete barn aisle. The sun would set in about half an hour, so she had to wrap up for the day. One more horse needed to be brought in. She whistled as she approached the paddock gate, and Rogue’s Gallery came galloping up. This paddock was designed specially to keep often unruly stallions in—the double fences were several feet higher than normal, for starters, with several other security features that discouraged her boys from trying to get out. Rogue slid to a stop just before he reached the inner fence, rearing up and whinnying.

She snorted. “Settle down, show-off.”

The stallion snorted back, shaking his head. The second she opened the gate, he shoved his nose against her shoulder, demanding petting. She scratched behind his ears, and he nickered in appreciation. “Ah, now. That’s my boy.”

“He looks like my Grani,” Erik noted. “Same color, anyway. Gray as stone.”

Yes, and she hated to admit that she might have a soft spot for Rogue for just that reason. “Grani was a warhorse who died a millennium ago. Rogue here is a thoroughbred. He had a great racing career, and now I keep him for stud.”

She clipped on the lead rope and then had no choice but to face her unwelcome guest.

Whoa. Her lips parted, surprise spurting through her. What a change. He was still enormously tall and built like a honed Viking warrior, a berserker who could conquer an army with one hand tied behind his back. It was his hair that caught her attention. Or rather, the lack thereof. He’d shaved his head, and the look was so different she blinked. She’d seen him once or twice over the last thousand plus years, never of her own will, but when Odin and Freya had summoned them at the same time, there was nothing Bryn could do about it.

This was the most dramatic change he’d ever made to his appearance. He’d always worn his hair long, no matter what the current fashion of the time dictated. His silver eyes, framed by absurdly long lashes, somehow seemed even more dramatic, more intense. Before this moment, she wouldn’t have believed it possible.

That gaze pinned her in place like a bug under a microscope, and it took effort not to squirm. She wasn’t used to that. Most men she met were like spoiled toddlers, and it had been years—maybe a decade—since one had interested her in doing anything other than yawn.

A decade. Shit, she might be regrowing her hymen at this rate.

And thinking about sex while staring at Erik was a mistake. She shook herself and glanced away. Somehow with the shaved head, it was easier to think of him as Erik instead of Siegfried. Though he was both now, wasn’t he? Erik Siegfried. The new name suited him.

“Why are you still here?” She brushed passed him—careful not to make actual contact—and led Rogue to the smaller stallion barn.

“Are you serious?” he asked, incredulousness dripping from the question. “You’ve seen the signs, Brynhil—Bryn. You have to know what they mean.”

Hurricanes, earthquakes, winters that lasted far too long, summers that burned far too hot. Mortals thought it was climate change, but a valkyrie could sense the difference. Signs of the end times. The Vikings called it Ragnarök—the Twilight of the Gods—but it had been given many names by many cultures. Armageddon, eschaton, apocalypse, Satya Yuga, the appearance of Maitreya. It was all the same as far as she was concerned—a prophesized final chapter before a supposed golden era began.

She shrugged as she finished putting Rogue away, and then she turned to Erik. “Ah, but you’re the dragon-slayer who’s supposed to kill the baddies who want to take over the world. I suggest you quit bothering me and get to it.”

His smile was sharp and unamused. “Trust me, I’d like nothing more than to kill the baddies, preferably before they do the kind of damage that will land us in Ragnarök. Unfortunately, I need a shieldmaiden’s help.”

“I’m not the only one left.” Though, it had been a century or two since she’d been in contact with any other valkyrie. Freya hadn’t summoned her in a long time, and Bryn was just fine with that. She had her farm, her horses, and a quiet existence she enjoyed. “Go pester someone else.”

“Damn it, Bryn.” He scrubbed a hand over his head, looking as if he’d like nothing more than to throttle her. Interesting. He’d always been so obnoxiously calm and patient back in the day.

It annoyed the shit out of her that she liked this less stoic side of him. She widened her eyes innocently. “What?”

“I need your help.” He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless frustration, his brows snapping together.

“No.” There. Simple, easy. An idiot should get that message through his thick skull.

The growl he emitted was more wolf than man, reminding her that berserkers could shift forms as easily as valkyries. Again, that less civil side of him was…too alluring, too tempting, tugging at something deep within her. Something she’d rather crush under her boot.

Executing a quick about-face, she headed across the stable yard to the tidy two-story Colonial she called home. He stayed hot on her heels, of course. The persistent bastard. “Why me, Erik?”

He shoved his way through her back door, refusing to let her slam it in his face. Yeah, she could have gotten into a wrestling match with him, but they both had superhuman strength and it would have just resulted in the door being reduced to splinters. Plus, it wouldn’t keep him out. The only way to get him to leave was to convince him to go. Diplomacy had never been her strong suit, so this was going to be such fun.

He snapped, “Why you? Because a völva came to talk to me.”

“There’s a sentence that strikes fear into the most stalwart heart,” she drawled as she stomped over to the fridge and yanked it open. Despite the mockery in her tone, völva were no laughing matter. Prophetesses, witches, and power-hungry bitches all rolled into one nasty package. The few times Bryn had had to deal with them only made her loath to repeat the experience.

“I’ve never sought the company of a völva, no. They’re not my favorite kind of women. But not listening to them is a stupid idea, so I listened, and here I am.” When she didn’t respond at all, he let out a breath. “You haven’t changed a bit. Stubborn as a mule. More beautiful than the sun and the moon. Damn it.”

Glancing back, she saw him staring at her ass. The breath seized in her lungs. His eyes had burned to molten quicksilver, lust stamped clearly on the harsh angles of his face, and heated awareness flashed through her. There was no controlling her response to him, a lightning-strike of utter craving. Her nipples tightened, goose bumps shivered over her flesh, and her pussy fisted on emptiness. She straightened but couldn’t make herself confront that burning need, so she pulled open the freezer as if she had some interest in the contents. The wash of frigid air hit her overheated cheeks.

“Did the völva specifically say I was the shieldmaiden you had to come to?” She’d kept up her weapons abilities, adding martial arts and firearms to her repertoire as they’d been introduced to Western culture. She was a valkyrie, which meant knowing how to fight was part and parcel of her existence. That didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with whatever he had in mind.

A long beat of silence passed. “No, she didn’t specify.”

“Alrighty, then.” She closed the freezer, turned around, and flipped her long braid over her shoulder. “It’s been great catching up. Bye, now.”

“Sorry, sweetness. That’s not going to happen.” Shaking his head slowly, a smile kicked up one corner of his lips. He had a deep dimple in his right cheek. Gods, how had she forgotten that?

Then what he’d said hit her. Sweetness? Where the hell had that nickname come from? She scowled. “You can save the world without me. I’m not interested.”

Two strides took him across the kitchen, blocking her avenues of escape. She could always shift to her raven form and take flight, but she refused to run or cower. The refrigerator’s door handle bit into her back as she glared up at him.

He bent forward until his lips almost brushed hers. Anticipation flowed like white-hot lava through her veins. His scent hit her, musky and masculine—no need for any kind of cologne. He smelled exactly the way she’d always thought a man should smell. Need throbbed within her, and her pussy was soaking wet in seconds, the muscles in her thighs trembling. His body heat surrounded her, seeping into her. He was all muscle and sinew and tempting hard angles. She licked her lips and clenched her fists at her sides to keep from reaching for him. Her mind warred with her body, and she wasn’t entirely sure which would win.

When he spoke, his breath whispered over her skin. “You’re not interested, Bryn? Are you sure about that?”

“There are different kinds of interest.” She was ridiculously proud of herself for managing an even tone.

He displayed that dimple in a blatantly unfair move. “I want all of your interest.”

“Too bad.” Because her slutty little long-dormant hormones were all for whatever he wanted, but the tiny scrap of rationality she possessed had zero interest in any trouble he’d bring to her doorstep.

“Mmm.” His gaze searched her face, looking for gods-knew-what. “Well, let’s start here and worry about the rest later.”

“Wha—”

His mouth cut off her question.

A jolt of shock went through her, and it took a split-second for her brain to catch up to what was going on. That kind of delayed reaction would have gotten her killed on the battlefield. But then he shoved his tongue between her lips, and her thoughts scattered. The flavor of him flooded her taste buds, coffee and sugar and something uniquely him. She couldn’t prevent a moan as utter unstoppable want licked through her. He shifted them to the left, so she was trapped between his fiery heat and the icy metal of the fridge door. His big body settled against hers, every hard angle fitting against her softer curves. He pinned her in place, not giving her a chance to think or escape. He forced her to feel, and fear fluttered through her at the realization. One of his hands closed over her breast and twisted her nipple. Hard. A needy, greedy sound wrenched from her throat.

He wedged his other hand between them, popping open the button on her riding breeches. The fabric had just enough stretch for him to delve in without pushing her pants down. His fingers edged under her panties and slipped into her curls. Her torso arched against him—in encouragement or protest, even she didn’t know. He stroked over her slit, toying with her slick lips. Her breathing turned to ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears.

Two thick fingers pierced her in a swift thrust that had her rising on tiptoe and bunching her fists in his T-shirt. The heel of his hand ground into her clit, making her shudder.

Oh, gods. Oh. Gods.

No one, but no one, had ever gotten to her as fast as he had. It was madness. He kissed his way along her jaw and down to her ear, nipping at the lobe. Then he unerringly found and scraped his teeth over a hot spot just under her ear that always lit her up like a firecracker. How had he remembered that? Continuing to tease her nipple, he twisted with just enough pressure to send streaks of pleasured pain zinging through her. Sensation swamped her, left her senses reeling. Her sex clenched, orgasm building high and hot within her. Her hips moved with his hand, low groans pouring from her mouth into his. More. She needed more; her body demanded the surcease he was offering.

He pressed down on her clit, curled his fingers inside her until he hit her G-spot, and pinched her nipple. It was more than enough to send her flying. Her entire body froze, and then her pussy pulsed in rhythmic waves around his thrusting digits. Fiery bliss exploded within her, and tingles skipped down her limbs. She threw her head back against the fridge, crying out with completion right there in the middle of her kitchen. But even as ecstasy ripped through her, she wondered what the fuck she was doing. This was insane. Her hands were still balled in his shirt, so she hooked a foot behind his ankle and shoved hard.

With a grunted curse, he landed on his ass, sprawling across her scuffed wooden floor. For a moment, utter shock flickered across his expression. Then he leaned back on his palms and chuckled, the sound rich and rough at the same time. “Yeah, I deserved that. Totally worth it though.”

Ah, shit. Sanity was overrated. Really, it was the laugh that did her in. That, and the dimple.

She jumped him.

* * *

Odin’s blood, she was fucking gorgeous.

She came down on top of him, her long legs straddling his hips. She was a tall woman, a warrior, built with lean, graceful lines. Her breasts were small and pert, and an active lifestyle made her ass a work of art. He’d wanted to get his hands on it from the moment he’d seen her bending over in the stable—one look and lust had hit him like a punch to the gut. Stupid, foolish, but there it was. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but he’d been unable to resist temptation. Which had always been his problem with her, hadn’t it?

He cupped his hands around the firm globes of her backside, groaning at how good she felt, how being near her fired his blood. But she wasn’t into savoring the reunion. She jerked his T-shirt out of his pants, and he had to release her buttocks to let her get the shirt over his head. Though he couldn’t complain at having her hands on his chest, stroking his skin, tweaking his nipples. Gods, yes. His cock jerked, chafing painfully against his fly. He needed to be inside her, thrusting into her tight, silken depths. No matter how many years had passed, he’d never found anything that felt as good as being inside her. It was a truth he’d never admit aloud, not with how badly they’d betrayed each other, but he’d made his peace with the past long ago. He doubted she could say the same, considering the lack of welcome he’d gotten.

Too bad, but dealing with the past was a problem for later.

A braid held back her magnificent white-blond hair, and it tumbled over her shoulder to brush his chin. He remembered the feel of her locks flowing through his fingers like water. Slipping the tie off the end, he unwound the plait and let her hair fall into his face. Perfect, the slight tickle somehow erotic. The pale locks formed a curtain that contrasted with the pure black of her eyes, so dark it was difficult to tell where her iris stopped and her pupil started. There was something about those uncanny eyes that pierced a man straight to his soul.

“Too many clothes.” She yanked his belt open and unzipped his jeans. He lifted his hips so she could pull his pants and underwear down to his ankles. His shoes were next, and he let her struggle with getting everything off him.

Normally, he’d be more aggressive, but there was something undeniably arousing about watching Bryn strip him. His cock was an iron bar, pulsing with need only she could quench. He’d almost forgotten how good it was to have her fingers dancing across his flesh. Or maybe he’d just tried to put it out of his mind so the knowledge that he couldn’t have her wouldn’t drive him mad. She grasped his cock, stroking it from base to crown. He jerked in reaction to her touch, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Hers had never been the delicate hands of a pampered lady, but she was still all woman—soft and strong at the same time. He liked that.

He felt his wolf fangs slide down and claws tipped his fingers, and for once he didn’t need worry about his lover seeing them. Bryn wasn’t a normal human. For good or ill, she knew exactly who and what he was. He ran the razor-edge of a talon along the neckline of her shirt. “I want you naked too.”

“Oh, really?” She cocked her head, the movement bird-like, reminding him of her raven side.

He realized that he’d never seen her in her bird form. That would probably change soon. Because, whether she liked it or not, their fates were tied together for the foreseeable future. The prospect seemed a lot less painful with her perched over him, her cheeks flush, her eyes glazed with lust.

She swirled a fingertip around the head of his dick. “I never would have guessed you were interested in me being nude.”

He rocked his pelvis upward, panting for breath. “I know I’m subtle, but you’re a perceptive woman.”

“Subtle, yeah.” Her eyebrows arched, and she nodded sagely. “Right.”

Slipping the buttons free on her shirt, she let the fabric slide off her shoulders to pool behind her. Her bra quickly followed, and a growl soughed from his throat. Her dusky pink nipples were puckered, begging to be sucked. He reached for her, but she shook her head and rose to her feet. She untied her ankle boots and toed out of them. Then she peeled off her tight breeches, baring her impossibly long legs. Ah, gods, he wanted those legs cinched around his waist while he fucked her.

The scent of her arousal was a heady aphrodisiac, curling into his nostrils. It did nothing for his control that she stared openly at his cock. A bead of precum slipped down the length of his erection. When she licked her lips, his restraint broke. He was on her in a split-second, dragging her to the floor. As soon as she was down, she bucked and flipped him onto his back. He had no problem with that, because every naked curve of her pressed against him.

Finally.

He grasped her hips, yanking her down on his dick. A little sound of surprise from her was cut short by a deep moan. Her head fell back, and her nails dug into his shoulders as he sank into her with one swift plunge. The fit was so hot and slick and tight, he thought his skull might explode.

“Bryn…gods.”

He felt the prick of her talons, sharp as a raven’s claws, and he could see the bird rippling just below the surface of her skin. He loved that she had to fight the beast within herself just as he had to. The sting of pain just underscored the pleasure rocketing through him, and he couldn’t hold back an animalistic sound of ecstasy. She pressed forward, taking him deep, grinding her clit downward.

Sweat slipped down their skin in slow beads, gluing them together. She rode him hard, and the slap of their flesh echoed in the room. Their gasps and groans, the creak of the floorboards beneath them…it was a symphony of sheer carnality. He rocked upward to meet her every movement, his muscles burning as the speed and force increased. As ever, they pushed each other to their limits, shoving past all possible boundaries.

He gripped her firm ass tight enough to bruise as he worked her on his cock. Then a wicked thought wisped through his mind, and he grinned. He eased his fingers inward, teasing the pucker of her anus. Her breath caught, those dark eyes going wide. Then he pierced her ass with two fingers, stretching her passage. Her breathing became even more ragged, and the scent of her desire amplified. His cock throbbed, and it was all he could do not to come then and there.

He shoved his fingers into her ass in tandem with their thrusts, and low cries wrenched from her throat. Her head fell back, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to nip and suck the length of her neck. The flavor of her was salty sweat and sweet woman. It added to his excitement. Little shivers ran through her, and he could sense how close she was to orgasm. Still not close enough for him. The feel of her sex clenching around his cock each time he penetrated her was just too much.

Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he used it to pull her down to the base of his cock, going deeper than he had before. He scraped his fangs across the sensitive area under her ear, slammed his fingers into her ass, and knew the moment her control broke. She screamed, her body bowing in his embrace. Her inner muscles milked his dick and—thank all the gods—he could loosen his tenuous hold on his own restraint.

Come jetted from his cock, filling her. He groaned, long and loud, shudders wracking his body. Continuing to stroke into her with his hand and dick, he dragged out both of their pleasure as long as possible. This was far too good to end too quickly. Another climax shook through her, and he couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt at having pleasured her so well. She finally collapsed against him, spent. He sucked in air, struggling to get enough oxygen.

Resting his forehead against her chest, he slowly came down from the high. “Awesome.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her voice was vague, and her fingers idly stroked the back of his neck.

While she was still soft and languid, he lifted her off of his cock, gathered her close, and rose to his feet. He’d rather not give her the opportunity to recall she didn’t want him there. Perhaps it was underhanded, but he had a planet to save.

He needed her.

Maybe on more levels than he could admit, but right now he had to focus on stopping the apocalypse. Everything else would have to wait.

But first he had to convince her that hiding out in rural Virginia wasn’t the best way to deal with what was coming. He mounted the stairs, and a quick look around at the top revealed her bedroom easily enough. Turning right, he strode to the end of the hall, deposited her on the rumpled bed, and climbed in beside her.

“What time will your farmhands be back?” He’d seen the two men leave in a rickety pickup, just before he’d pulled into her long gravel driveway. He hadn’t caught the scent of anyone else on her property.

She stirred, but didn’t bother to open her eyes. “Not until Sunday night. They’re brothers, and I gave them the weekend off to go celebrate their mom’s birthday in DC.”

“Nice boss.”

“Tough, but reasonable boss,” she corrected, meeting his gaze. “No sane person would ever call me nice.”

And he would be the one to know that, wouldn’t he? Considering she’d told her jealous husband how Erik could be killed. He’d slain a dragon as a young mortal, the blood coating him and making him indestructible—except the one spot on his shoulder where a leaf had gotten stuck. Which meant he’d had to be stabbed in the back in order to die, so there was a certain irony to how she’d betrayed him.

Then again, her husband had had every right to be enraged. Erik’s behavior had been less than honorable, toward Bryn and her husband both. He’d earned his ignominious death, but then she’d killed his son as well. Sigmund had been just three years old, a baby. That, Erik had never been able to forgive. Though he’d never asked her why she’d done it either, had he? As hard as it was to be fair about something like that, even a millennium later, he knew better than anyone that the myths surrounding their relationship were loaded with half-truths and ugly speculation.

“Maybe I’m not sane.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Because you were pretty damn nice a few minutes ago.”

“Ha.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be not nice pretty soon here.”

“Kicking me out?” He cocked a brow.

She sat up, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “This was a bad idea, you have to admit.”

“Nope, not admitting anything.” He stayed where he was, keeping his pose relaxed. “But I also didn’t think we were quite done.”

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. “We were done a long time ago, Erik. This was just…chemistry.”

“True, but if the chemistry is this good, why stop after only one round?”

“Because you’re not here for a simple shagfest.” Her sharp gaze speared him. “This is just your way of trying to wear me down.”

The smile he gave her was unabashed. “Guilty.”

“It won’t work.” She sighed. “I’m too damn old to be that stupid.”

“There is that.” He rolled to his back, folding his hands behind his head. “We’re both fucking ancient.”

A ghost of a grin crossed her lips. She’d never been much for smiling or laughing, so he’d treasured every time he’d gotten her to lighten up. He doubted the years had made her less somber.

“So, what?” He stared at the carved casing above her window as if it fascinated him. “You’re assuming the prophecy is right, and somehow I’ll kill a bunch of powerful giants and survive Ragnarök? You think I won’t need any help?”

Her chin rested on her knees. “The gods are supposed to stand alongside you.”

“When’s the last time you saw one? A god or a goddess?” He reached up and tugged at the small rune stone that hung around his neck. It marked him as one who served Odin, and Bryn wore a similar stone that marked her affiliation with the goddess Freya. The stone was supposed to be a way he could call on the god, if needed. Of course, gods and goddesses only answered if they felt like it. Odin hadn’t answered the last few times Erik had called. He’d once been the god’s right-hand man, a confidant and advisor as much as a warrior. Odin liked his berserkers to walk the world every now and then, living as mortals did, but he always brought them back to Valhalla after a couple of decades. Until now. Erik had been mostly left to his own devices since the end of the nineteenth century, and what little contact he’d had with Odin had tapered off to nothing in recent years. It was more than a little troubling.

Bryn licked her lips. “I haven’t tried to get in touch with Freya in ages, nor she me. I haven’t spent much time in the gods’ realm for…maybe eight or nine centuries now. I prefer staying away from Asgard, and she knows it.”

“No one has been to Asgard, not for years,” he countered. “I’ve tracked down a few berserkers, and not a single one of them has had any contact with the gods. Odin, Thor, Frey, Tyr, Heimdall—none of those who are prophesied to die during Ragnarök.”

“There are few who believe in our gods anymore. Maybe they’ve retreated to Odin’s hall to enjoy their eternal retirement. Valhalla can hold one hell of a party.” The forced note of hope and cheer in her tone made Erik give her a skeptical look.

“Really, Bryn? That’s the argument you’re going to go with?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” She forked her fingers through her hair. “How do you know they’re not doing the same thing we are and just hanging out with humans?”

“You think they could resist the urge to meddle enough to hide?”

She inclined her head to concede the point. “Laying low was never their strong suit, true, but you shouldn’t make assumptions with no evidence. If you’re not a god or goddess, you can’t go to Asgard unless called. You don’t know what’s going on there, which means they could all be just fine.”

“Or they could all be dead, picked off one by one to change the prophecy.” Unlike many of the other deities humans believed in, Viking gods weren’t all-knowing, all-powerful, or invincible. Those omniscient gods might also exist; he had no way of knowing for certain, he just knew he’d never met one face-to-face. Viking gods and goddesses, though? He’d met most of them, liked a few of them, and shagged several more. Goddesses, that was. He hadn’t lived so long that he was off females. Some immortals got bored enough to swing both ways. More power to them, just not his style.

“If you’re against the gods, why change the prophecy?” Bryn’s blond brows drew together, but at least she was listening. “The major deities are supposed to die.”

“And take the monsters with them—the great dragon Jörmungandr, the giant wolf Fenrir. The giants of Jötunheim want to use those monsters to rule the realms of humans and gods. If the gods die early, there’s nothing to stop them.” He swallowed hard, voicing the awful truth that had been choking him since that völva had turned up on his doorstep. “There’s no one to fight beside me.”

“So you think this is a big conspiracy?” Doubt dripped from her words, and her dark eyes searched his face.

“I can’t afford not to think that way, and one of the berserkers I found has collected some evidence that might convince even you.” His friends weren’t far behind him. He’d texted them the address once he’d confirmed that, yes, this was the woman they were looking for. Only then had he actually spoken to her. He was smart enough to know he’d need backup. Bryn never went down without a fight. “How can we not assume something might be wrong if five immortals haven’t heard from the deities they serve in decades?”

“Berserkers serve Odin, valkyrie serve Freya. That’s only two deities,” she pointed out.

“The two who rule the halls of the valorous dead.” He kept his tone as matter-of-fact as possible. Emotion was never going to convince her, just cold fact. “There’s been lots of war in the human world during the last hundred plus years, and more than a few of the dead warriors would have had some Viking blood in their veins. You think that wouldn’t have kept the valkyries busy, taking those fallen to Valhalla?”

Her gaze fell away. Ah, yes. She had no easy argument for that, did she? He almost wished she did. This wasn’t something he enjoyed being right about. And he was pretty damn sure he was right.

“If the giants win during Ragnarök, the gods become their slaves and humans become their food. You’ve lived among mortals for a very long time, and you still care enough to let your farmhands off to celebrate something as trivial as a birthday. You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you, especially since former humans like us are as likely to fall into the brunch category as we are to fall into the slave category. A pretty shieldmaiden like you? Oh, they’d have fun with you.” He hissed in a breath and shook his head. “I’m not sure which would be worse—being eaten alive or being raped to death by a giant.”

She swallowed hard. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“The truth isn’t pretty, Bryn. You, of all people, should know that.” Yes, he was being harsh, but the picture he painted was all too feasible, and the thought of such a fate befalling the woman beside him made bile flood his mouth. He couldn’t stand by and just let that happen. Not ever. Deep down, he didn’t think she could stand by either. It wasn’t in her nature, no matter how idyllic her life was now.

“I…” She shook her head. “I need to go flying.”

When she moved to rise, fear gripped his gut. If he let her go now, he might never be able to find her again. He felt like he’d spent an eternity trying to catch up to her, which was an unsettling thought. Snapping his fingers around her wrist, he hauled her back down to the mattress, rolled on top of her, and made sure she didn’t think about going anywhere for a long, long while.

2

The next morning, Bryn snuck out of her own room, leaving Erik sleeping in her bed. Yeah, there wasn’t much dignity in creeping out like a misbehaving teenager, but it was the only way she was going to escape him. She carried her clothes with her, dressed quickly in the hallway, and tiptoed barefoot down the stairs, making sure to skip the second step because it creaked.

Before she went anywhere, she had to feed her horses, so she headed straight for the back of the house. As much as she wanted to fly off into the sunset, her ponies were counting on her to make sure they didn’t starve to death. If Erik and his Seer were wrong and the world didn’t end, she still had to make a living, right? Not to mention she loved the four-legged beasties.

After she passed the door to the living room, she froze, backed up, and did a double take. There were three large men occupying her space. One guy was flipped upside down and leaning up against a wall. Another was sprawled across the couch and looked to be taking a nap. The last one was sitting at a small table, using it as a desk as he hunched over a laptop.

His brows were drawn in a heavy frown and there was something oddly familiar about him, but it was hard to tell with the harsh glow of his monitor casting shadows on his features and only the weak pre-dawn light coming through the window.

“I assume you’re friends of Erik’s?” Not a difficult guess considering the guy standing on his head had a rune stone necklace dangling around his chin.

Couch-boy opened one eye, and a thick New Orleans drawl that practically oozed chicory issued from his mouth. “Yep. We heard a party going on upstairs, and we figured cock-blocking y’all was just bad form. So we made ourselves at home.”

“You’re out of milk now, love.” She looked down as Mr. Handstand started talking. This guy had a cute English accent. “Sorry about that. We’ll send Holm out to fetch more later.”

Since she had no idea which one was Holm, she just gestured at English and New Orleans. “Great. You can both get your feet off my sofa and wall.”

English dropped lightly to the ground and New Orleans sat up, swinging his legs around. Once upon a time, she’d known all of the berserkers in Valhalla. But she’d been wandering the human world for a long time, unable to face the man who was still sleeping upstairs. She’d been consumed with pain and rage for so long. Luckily, Freya had been understanding and given Bryn her way, only calling her back in when she was needed for a specific task. Of course, if Erik was right, the goddess’s prolonged silence might mean she was now dead or on the run from conspirators.

When nobody offered names, Bryn arched an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Valbjorn Makan. Val.” English held out a hand to shake. His grip was firm, but he didn’t try to make it a pissing contest by crushing her fingers. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Ravencrest.”

New Orleans didn’t stand up, just gave her a nod. “Holm Sutherland.” He gestured to the last man. “And that’s Ivar.”

The man at the computer grabbed the sides of his seat, and that was when she realized he was in a wheelchair. He slid back and spun to face her. “Ivar the Boneless. You’ve heard of me, I presume?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Coldness tingled in her fingertips and she felt the blood leave her face in a sickening rush. Well, that explained why he looked vaguely familiar. He was her grandson. Hers and Erik’s. With her platinum blond hair and his silver eyes, this man was a perfect cross between the two of them. She swallowed hard. “There’s coffee and bagels in the kitchen. Help yourselves.”

Spinning on a heel, she exited the room.

Ivar’s deep baritone followed. “We fed your ponies for you—I found a list in the office of what to feed all of them. Holm drew the short straw and had to muck their stalls.”

“Awesome. Thanks.” She didn’t pause, just walked to the kitchen, grabbed her ankle boots off the floor, and shoved her feet into them. Erik’s and her discarded clothes from the night before were missing, but she didn’t want to think about what might have happened to them. She didn’t want to think about anything at all. Out the back door, she headed straight for the barn. Keeping her mind deliberately blank, she checked the horses, found them properly cared for. Good. Then she went into her office, opened a window, stripped naked, shifted into her raven form, and launched herself skyward. She had to get away from here.

Her past had truly come to roost.

* * *

“So, you didn’t warn her I’d be showing up, huh? Real classy, Grandpa.” Ivar hadn’t even let Erik get all the way into the living room before the chastisement rang in his ears. Of course, he wasn’t moving all that fast considering he had to keep a grip on the towel around his waist.

He closed his eyes, partially because of the grandpa crack, and partially because, yes, he probably should have mentioned to Bryn that one of the berserkers he’d run across was their daughter’s son. They’d both been dead long before Ivar had been born, but that didn’t mean Bryn wouldn’t be bitch-slapped by their rather traumatic past when she met him. “Shit.”

“Never seen anybody go so pale so fast unless they were actually bleeding out.” Ivar crossed his arms over his muscular chest, narrowing eyes exactly like those that looked Erik in the mirror every morning. He should be used to it, but it was still unsettling.

“I get the picture,” he said shortly. “I should have told her that her long-lost grandson would be stopping by.”

Not that it wasn’t strange to be staring at his grandson and have the man look almost exactly the same age that he did—forever in their late twenties. It made it impossible to really think of him as a grandson, so Ivar had become something of a…not brother-figure, but perhaps a beloved distant cousin.

Dropping the attitude, Ivar sighed. “You think me being here will make it easier or harder to get her on our side?”

“With Bryn?” Erik scrubbed his free hand over his shaved pate. “I have no fucking clue. If I could predict her, my mortal life would have ended a bit differently.”

The other man spread his arms and shrugged. “Ah, but only those who die gloriously in battle get to hang out immortally ever after in Valhalla. Maybe she did you a favor.”

Erik cocked an eyebrow. “Is that how you think about the person who did you in?”

“Nah, but I took him with me.” Ivar grinned. “His God may have saved his soul, but Odin had my back, so I guess we’re both good with our respective afterlives.”

“Right.” Erik rolled his eyes.

Holm piped up from where he lounged on the couch. “It sounded like you two had one hell of a reunion last night.”

Yeah, like Erik wanted to share any details on that. Holm had a way of saying exactly the wrong thing in any situation. He spent his life with this foot in his mouth, which was probably why he preferred to hide away from other people in some backwater bayou in Louisiana. But he’d come to help when Erik had called, no questions asked. Erik appreciated the loyalty and vote of confidence, so he ignored the tactless comment and kept his focus on Ivar. “When did you guys get in?”

“A little after midnight,” Ivar replied.

Erik had vaguely noticed their arrival some time during the night, but since he’d only smelled allies, he’d let them take care of themselves and glutted himself on the feel and scent and taste of Bryn. It might have been his last chance.

“Where is she?” The sweet aroma of her was fading, as if she’d come and gone.

“I saw a blackbird fly out of the big barn a little bit ago. I’m betting that was her,” Ivar gestured at the open living room window, but he frowned at his laptop screen. The man was a gadget freak of the highest order. It was his research—aka hacking—that had made it possible to track down Bryn. She could have been anywhere in the world, living under any assumed identity, but Ivar had narrowed their possibilities down to a handful of women. They’d divided the list between them, and Erik had hit the jackpot.

“Yeah, that probably was her.” A chilly morning breeze came through the window, and Erik shifted his hold on his towel. Frosty balls were not the way to start the day. Nor was waking up alone, abandoned by your companion.

Holm grinned at Erik’s discomfort, which earned him a stony stare. “Think she’ll be back? Or has she flown the coop for good?”

Refusing to admit he’d wondered the same thing when he’d leaped out of bed, Erik managed a casual shrug. “Her farmhands won’t be back until tomorrow night. She wouldn’t abandon her animals.”

“Glad she has her priorities straight,” Holm drawled.

The words were mild enough, but Erik felt his hackles rise anyway, wanting to defend her. He told himself to get a grip and moved toward the door. “I’m going for a run—I’ll be back in an hour or so. Send up a flare if you need me sooner.”

“Will do.” Ivar gave a distracted wave, closing his laptop.

“Hang on.”

Holm’s voice made Erik turn back. “Yeah?”

The other man propped his elbows on the back of the couch. A shit-eating grin curved his lips. “Your clothes are in the dryer…you know, in case you were wondering. Val was nice enough to wash them for you.”

“Tell him I said thanks.” Where Val had taken himself off too, Erik didn’t know. Somewhere close by, from the intensity of his scent.

Ivar tucked his computer into the backpack slung across the handles of his wheelchair. “I’m going for a drive. I dug something up that I think could help us. I’ll be back whenever I’m back. You know how to reach me.”

“Sure, fine. Whatever.” Right now they were just hanging around waiting for the end times to show up, which was maddening and boring all at once. The völva had said it would be soon, but soon could be an hour from now or a week from now. Seers could be damn annoying when their visions didn’t provide real details.

He’d found exercise helped burn off the frustration in the last couple of weeks while he’d tracked down Holm and Ivar, both of whom he’d kept in touch with over the past decade or so. Ivar had known Val since they were mortals, so that had added another member to their merry band of misfits, and then Ivar had managed to unearth Bryn’s location. Still, weeks of uncertainty, not knowing when or even if he’d find the shieldmaiden before the apocalypse hit, had stretched his patience to the limit.

Discarding the towel on the kitchen counter, he shifted into his wolf form in the space between heartbeats, his body twisting and reshaping until he stood on all fours. Shaking from head to tail, he settled into the familiar form. He nosed out of the screen door and then shot off the porch at a dead run. He headed for the wide green path that cut between two pastures.

Every now and then, he caught Bryn’s scent. A glance skyward didn’t reveal a raven in flight, but he knew she was nearby.

The run let him think, and while he should be focusing on Ragnarök and saving the world, that tantalizing scent of Bryn kept his mind on her instead. Even when they’d first met, when he’d gone in search of her castle, she’d already been a legend. He’d just slayed a dragon and claimed the beast’s treasure and its enchanted ring—Andvaranaut—which could turn anything into solid gold. He’d been told if he bathed in dragon’s blood, he’d become indestructible, so he’d been cocksure and certain there was no prize beyond his reach.

He’d gone looking for further adventure and found Bryn. He remembered the first time he’d seen her, deep in an enchanted sleep, her tower surrounded by elemental fire. The castle had been little more than a myth then—one that said a man who knew no fear could pass through the fire and find a reward beyond riches within the stone walls. Many had tried and failed, but Erik had managed it. Looking back, he thought he’d been too young and stupid to know he should be afraid, but he’d found his greatest treasure nonetheless.

The moment her midnight eyes had opened and met his gaze, he’d known she’d own his soul forever. That was it for him. Done. No other woman would ever do.

Stretching his forelegs in front of him, Erik raced along the path as if pouring on more speed might help him escape the memories. The world became a blur of green grass and white fences, streaking past his vision. He came to the edge of Bryn’s farm and bolted into the woods beyond.

But there was no way to outrun himself, was there?

After they’d met, they’d talked for hours, days. He’d regaled her with his victory over the dragon, and revealed his one vulnerability where the dragon’s blood hadn’t touched. Of course, he hadn’t realized then that telling her meant he had two vulnerabilities.

She’d told him she was a valkyrie, and she’d displeased Odin by using her magical ability to choose the victor in battle to pick a man Odin didn’t favor. As retribution, the god had made her a mortal woman, trapped her in the tower, and cast a sleeping spell on her, so that any man who desired her might claim her virginity. Knowing she’d be defenseless in sleep, just before she’d succumbed to the god’s spell, she’d thrown out a ring of fire that would only let in a fearless man. If she was to be claimed by an unknown man, he should at least be brave enough to be worthy of her admiration.

Ah, Bryn. If only I’d remained worthy.

But, fool that he was, he’d craved more exploits and renown, so he’d given Bryn his ring as a token of his promise to return and asked her to wait for him. She’d agreed—not that he’d given her much choice.

More than once, he’d wanted to go back and slap the shit out of his younger self. He should have found the closest temple and married her immediately.

Instead, he gone to the royal court of Burgundy and offered his sword to King Gunnar’s service. There was fame to be found in their ongoing wars, and his reputation as a dragon-slayer and daring feats in battle made him a respected advisor to the king in short time. Unfortunately, it also drew the unwanted attentions of the king’s sister, Princess Gudrun. Erik had spurned her advances as gently as he could, but it was the king’s mother, Grimhild, that proved his ultimate downfall. Grimhild was a powerful sorceress, a völva, and she wanted the riches he’d claimed from the dragon’s horde to remain in her family. She concocted a vile potion that made him believe he was in love with Gudrun and wiped his mind of any other woman he’d ever met.

Erik had gone to Gunnar and begged for his sister’s hand in marriage.

Erik had spoken of his beloved valkyrie one too many times before the spell kicked in, and Gunnar had decided he wanted the legendary beauty for his own. So he agreed to let Erik marry his sister if Erik helped him claim Brynhild. They’d gone to her castle, where she’d kept that wall of fire burning so that none but her brave love could approach.

Gunnar couldn’t get through the flames—too weak and cowardly—though Erik hadn’t acknowledged that at the time. He’d had only one focus then: marrying Gudrun. He’d thought he might die if he couldn’t, known that he’d do anything to wed her. Everything else was irrelevant, crowded out by the single goal that possessed him.

So he’d passed through the fire in Gunnar’s stead, promising that Bryn would remain untouched, and swearing that he’d give her one of Grimhild’s potions to make her believe it was Gunnar who’d made it through the fire, not Erik.

The only thing he hadn’t counted on was how the passion between Bryn and him would explode out of control. Even believing he loved someone else, Erik couldn’t stop himself from touching her, taking her. Again and again and again. He’d never told Gunnar the truth of his actions, and hadn’t known until much later that the night he’d spent in Bryn’s bed had resulted in a child. Erik had always told himself that Aslaug was Gunnar’s daughter.

The woman he’d loved became his sister-in-law instead of his wife. When the potions wore off, the irony of it had left bitterness coating his tongue every time he’d seen her. The ugly truth had spelled his doom. His and Bryn’s and his young son’s.

Erik shook his head, dragging himself back to the present day. He slowed to a stop and let his head fall forward, panting for breath. A glance around revealed a small clearing of sweet-smelling grass and wildflowers. Bryn certainly had chosen a beautiful patch of country for her retirement.

He wished he didn’t have to drag her back into the fray, but he couldn’t regret that circumstances had pushed them into contact again. No matter how love-hate their relationship had become, there was a part of his soul that would always belong to her. He’d tried for centuries to excise that treacherous part of himself, but he’d never succeeded.

Somehow that didn’t seem so bad now.

A shadow passed over the meadow, and when he looked up he saw her. His raven, his shieldmaiden, his Bryn. She swept past, headed in the direction of home. A growl rumbled in his chest, anticipation and longing tangling inside him, for once defeating the bitterness of the past. There was much they still had to hash out, and he thought he’d start with the issue of her ditching him in bed this morning. Talking about bed might land them back there, and that was just fine with him. Being near her had made the future more inviting than ever before.

He rose to his feet, running back to her.

3

The wind ruffled over Bryn’s feathers and she banked into an easy turn, descending in slow circles toward the long stretch of her main barn. She swooped under the roof into the wide aisle, shifted midair and landed neatly on her feet. Combing her fingers through her hair, she tried to straighten it into some semblance of order.

A low growl made her stiffen and turn, prey before a predator. The massive gray wolf prowled inside the barn, and a few anxious whinnies echoed from the stalls. Even though it could have been any of the berserkers, she knew down to her bones this wolf was Erik. It was unsettling to realize how attuned to him she was after less than a day in his company.

She cleared her throat. “You’re scaring my horses. Knock it off.”

His body twisted, fur retracting, and then Erik stood before her. Their eyes met, and something electric passed between them. She’d swear the air crackled around them. A breath shuddered into her lungs, fire ripped through her body, and her pussy went slick and hot, clenching on emptiness.

He stared at her, his gaze raking over every single inch of her. By the gods, he could rev her up with a simple glance. This was bad. Terrible. He was naked, she was naked, and they were alone. Not only was he naked, but he was hugely, flagrantly aroused. So was she, but at least her body could hide it better.

Then his nostrils flared, and she knew he could smell her readiness. A reminder that this wasn’t a normal man. This was an immortal, a berserker, half-wolf, and he had abilities no human could claim.

Then again, even when he’d been a mortal man, he’d been able to strip her of all defenses with a single look.

His eyes narrowed, and that was when she realized he was irritated. “For the record, I didn’t enjoy waking up alone.”

“I had work to do.” She lifted a brow.

The look he gave her chastised her for the lie, but his tone was deceptively mild when he spoke. “You could have woken me. I would have helped.”

“Maybe I don’t want your help any more than I want to offer you my help. Too many strings attached.”

Dropping his gaze to her breasts, lower, to the juncture of her thighs, he licked his lips. She shivered, recalling his mouth on her flesh the night before. He took a step toward her, and she had to muster every ounce of self-discipline to stand her ground. Her heart hammered, but not from fear. Anticipation sang through her.

“If this isn’t what you want, say no,” he ordered, but the expression on his face dared her not to.

She couldn’t have even if she wanted to, even if she could have resisted such a blatant challenge. Lust speared her, the need more intense than any other lover had ever managed to make her feel. That made her uneasy, but it didn’t stop the throb of want that passed through her. Her nipples tightened, her pussy contracted, some muscles within her loosening, others tightening as her body readied itself for sex. Good sex. The most amazing sex of her entire existence. She’d wanted to tell herself she was just romanticizing the memories, but the sizzle of chemistry the moment she’d seen him again made a lie of that.

She lifted her chin, staring him down as she gestured to their surroundings. “I’m not interested in concrete road rash, splinters, or getting hay wedged up my ass.”

Which left very few options for getting it on.

With his head tilted, his eyebrows drew together in consideration. Without saying another word, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her forward until his back was against the wall and she was plastered to his front. Cupping her hips, he lifted her so her legs naturally wrapped around his trim waist. She gripped his shoulders and held on tight.

Her breath caught at the feel of his skin against hers. He was rough satin, all hot skin and crisp curls that abraded her nipples.

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

Instead of obeying, she tightened her legs and lifted herself, then took his cock deep in one swift downward plunge, letting gravity impale her on his thick shaft. Years of riding horses had given her some amazing leg and ab muscles, and she put them to good use now. She shimmied upward, then dropped down, letting him stretch her, fill her to the limit. He was so big, it would have been painful to take him if she hadn’t been so wet. They both moaned, and she felt raven’s claws tip her fingers, digging into his flesh. His fangs flashed as he smiled, and then his grip became bruising as he helped gravity along.

Their skin slapped with every plunge, and sweat made their flesh glide together. Their gasps and groans echoed down the long aisle, and she knew any of his friends could walk in at any moment, that they were basically fucking in public, but she was beyond caring. Everything about this—him—was just a little forbidden, and that made it so much sexier. Her thighs burned with the strain of riding him, but she couldn’t stop, had to have that carnal surcease.

He shifted his grip, banding an arm under her ass, and then one hand came up to tunnel into her hair. He jerked her forward so he could claim the kiss he’d wanted. His tongue filled her mouth, and their lips melded. She felt the scrape of his fangs against her flesh, and excitement poured through her. The wildness in him called to the wildness in her, and her talons curled into his shoulders, raking down his arms. He groaned into her mouth, settled his shoulders more solidly so he could push his hips further from the wall. Then he pistoned into her harder, faster, their movements growing rougher.

She kept up with him, taking him deeper, loving the thrill of it, the feral edge to their coupling. Heat roared high within her. She was so close to exploding, she could taste it. She threw her head back, a low cry breaking free, the sound almost a raven’s call.

“Come now, Bryn,” he ordered.

He swatted her ass, and the sting sent her jolting forward. His dick slammed so deep, pinpricks of light burst behind her lids, and she tumbled over into orgasm. Her channel clamped down on his cock, pulsing in rhythmic waves. Goose bumps broke down her limbs, and each of his thrusts pushed her to another peak. It was almost more than she could take; she could only hang on and experience the overwhelming rush.

He shoved into her pussy one, two, three more times, and then he shuddered against her, flooding her with hot fluids. Their lungs heaved for breath, and that was the only noise that broke the silence. Even the horses seemed to have gone still. He let his head fall back against the barn wall, but he didn’t loosen his hold on her. “Bryn, I—”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as they both noticed the sound of approaching footsteps. Deliberately loud footsteps, she thought, and then Val called, “Uh…Erik? Bryn? Ivar rang me, and he said he’s got some news for us. Looks as if the end is nigh. Though if I was doing what you’re doing, I couldn’t be arsed about it either.”

He didn’t come around the corner of the barn, so he couldn’t get an eyeful of her buck-naked ass. Maybe she should be embarrassed to be called out twice in as many hours for banging Erik. But she was too old to regret good sex—she knew firsthand that a shag this good didn’t come around very often. Should she be fucking her former whatever-the-hell-he-was? Probably not, but the world was ending, so who cared? She might as well get some play before it all went to pot.

Erik closed his eyes. “How urgent is it?”

A pause, then Val answered, “He should be pulling up to the house right about now. Yes, there, you can hear his van. I’d wager you have maybe five minutes before he comes looking for you, mate. But he’s impatient like that, so no telling how big the emergency actually is. He didn’t say much over the phone.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes, then,” Erik replied.

“Cheers.” And then the other man left much more silently than he’d approached.

Bryn unhooked her legs and dropped to the floor, biting back a moan as his cock slid free. She headed for her office and the clothes she’d left there. Erik followed her, tracking her like a convict who might escape. That didn’t annoy her at all. Nope. Not her. “You can go back without me, Erik. I don’t need an escort.”

“You’re getting one anyway, so I can make sure you don’t fly off into the sunset and disappear.” He crossed his arms, making his sculpted biceps bulge.

She reared back, and she went from annoyed to pissed off in under two seconds. “Oh, that’s nice. Your pillow talk blows, for the record. Should I remind you that you’re trespassing on my land right now? I could have your ass tossed in jail. Wouldn’t that throw a wrench in your plans to save the world, trying to talk the humans into letting you go without revealing any of your superhuman powers?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. The bottom line is you’re involved in this whether you like it or not. You don’t really have a choice, you know.” His tone was less than civil, flashing that new edginess. In the old days, he’d only ever lost his cool in bed and in the intense heat of battle when his berserker side came out to play.

“Yeah, and fuck you very much for pointing that out.” She thrust both hands into her hair, wrenching the tangled locks into a braid, and yanked a hair tie out of her desk drawer to fasten the plait. Then she stuffed herself into her clothes and shoved her feet into her boots, not bothering to lace them as she stomped toward the back porch.

“This isn’t my fault,” he barked.

“You could have found another shieldmaiden,” she snapped, silently enjoying the fact that he winced as his bare foot hit a sharp stone in the yard. “Tangling with you has never served me well, Siegfried. It ends in lies, betrayal, and death.”

“Erik.” He folded his arms and jutted his chin, like this was an essential point to make.

She went in the screen door and let it spring closed behind her. Yep, it was petty, but good lay or not, the asshole had brought the apocalypse to her tranquil safe haven. She had no reason to be nice. “I note you didn’t address the actually important part of what I said, but Siegfried is your surname now, right?”

“From you, I prefer Erik.” He opened the screen, a dark scowl on his face. “We both know you don’t mean my last name when you say Siegfried.”

She grunted. Yeah, there was a lot of history tied up in their names. A lot of history that tripped over legends that were only half-truths. It was one reason why she went by Bryn instead of Brynhild. She didn’t really want to be reminded of who she used to be. Of course, him being here did nothing but remind her.

* * *

The woman was fucking impossible.

He wanted to strangle her half of the time. He’d commanded armies of men, and he couldn’t keep one damn woman in line. Typical. He ran a hand down his face. Of course, that was part of her appeal, wasn’t it? So many women cowered before a man as dangerous as him, but not Bryn. No, not her. She was every bit as dangerous, and he liked that far more than he should. There was a praying mantis appeal to fucking a warrior woman—you might die in the process, but it’d be the ride of your life.

He grabbed his recently discarded towel, wrapped it around his waist, and strode behind her into the living room, glaring at the back of her head. She paused in the doorway, blocking his path unless he wanted to bowl her over or walk around her. He walked around her because tripping her was a little too juvenile. Though still tempting. Holm and Ivar were waiting for them, but he had no idea where Val had gotten off to.

“There’s an emergency?” she asked.

“Not an emergency, per se,” Ivar answered. “I found someone who has news and will be able to help us.”

Bryn’s eyebrows lifted and she stated the obvious. “I don’t see anyone else. Also, Holm, get your feet off my coffee table.”

Dropping his heels to the floor, Holm offered her a charming smile and drawled, “Yes, ma’am.”

Ivar met Erik’s gaze and shrugged. “You said you needed a shieldmaiden, and I thought, why not look for more than one? So I did some homework, and I found something almost as good.”

“Almost, but not quite,” came a dry tone from the doorway. Erik closed his eyes and didn’t bother to turn around to greet the new female. He’d already caught her scent, so he knew exactly what Ivar had found.

This was going to go so well.

The woman gave both him and Bryn a wide berth as she went to stand beside Ivar. She pushed up a pair of sunglasses and set them on the top of her head. She was of medium height, had medium-brown hair and medium-brown eyes, and wore a shapeless dress.

Holm nodded a greeting. “And you are?”

“Nauma.” While she was just passably pretty, her voice was low and throaty and well-suited to a phone sex operator.

Arms crossed over his chest, Holm’s brows rose as he repeated, “And you are?”

A brief smile fluttered at the corners of her lips. “A handmaiden. Freya’s handmaiden. Once mortal, but I was…promoted, I guess. More of a pity promotion, really, but there it is. Or, here I am, rather.”

He shook his head.

“I know,” Ivar sighed. “She talks a lot.”

Holm shot him a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Talking a lot is fine, as long as it makes sense.”

“I am a handmaiden of Freya.” Her words were slow and measured and just this side of insulting. How she managed that, Erik wasn’t sure.

“Well, another immortal is a good thing,” Ivar assured her. “We need all the help we can get. Thanks for hopping on a plane when I called.”

“Not sure how much help I can be.” She shook her head. “Don’t expect much in the way of brawn because weapons are not in my repertoire.”

Ivar grinned broadly, slapping a hand against the arm of his chair. “Brains trump brawn any day, sweetheart.”

“Nauma?” Val came into the room, looking as if he’d been poleaxed. “I thought I smelled…so I tracked the scent.” He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again. “You’re alive.”

Her face went pasty white, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Hello, Valbjorn.”

He shook his head. “I…You…How?”

“Freya’s got a soft spot for pathetic saps who die for love.” Her shoulder jerked in a shrug. “She made me a handmaiden. Because there’s no way I’d ever go valkyrie.”

“I see.” But it was clear he didn’t.

The silence stretched into something awkward. Since neither Ivar nor Nauma had bothered to mention it, Erik broke in with, “Ivar, you brought a völva here.”

Ivar frowned. “She’s a handmaiden.”

“She’s both, actually.” Nauma managed a knife-thin smile. “Just to stop any debate on the subject.”

“You told me you weren’t like your mother.” Val scowled, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t know.” She smoothed a crease in her dress. “The first time I had a vision was the day I died. Even then, I didn’t fully realize the extent of my abilities until after I was a handmaiden. Freya found my visions useful, so...it kept me in favor.”

“How did you know she was a völva, Erik?” Bryn spoke for the first time since the other woman had walked in. Her tone was measured, like the calm before a storm. Bryn hated völva. He didn’t like them much himself, considering they’d both ended up with the same spiteful, avaricious witch for a mother-in-law after she’d drugged them into marrying her son and daughter.

He kept his answer short and to the point. “This is the völva who told me I needed the help of a shieldmaiden.”

Bryn bared her teeth at the handmaiden in a terrifying rendition of a smile. “So, you’re the one I can blame for him showing up on my doorstep? Or rather, for this entire pack of berserkers invading my home?”

A quiver ran through the smaller woman, but she didn’t turn tail and run the way any sane person would—then again, she was a Seer. They weren’t quite right. She lifted her chin. “Planning to kill the messenger? I can’t change what I am, even if you don’t care for my kind. The important part is that I’m here and I’m willing to help. Can you say the same?”

Bryn snorted. “If you’re so eager to help, why didn’t you just come with Erik in the first place?”

“Visions don’t give every little detail. I knew I had to track Erik down and tell him what he needed to do.” The völva spread her hands. “I didn’t know I’d be further involved until Ivar’s phone call.”

“It also seems you didn’t know Val would be along for the ride,” Erik observed.

“My visions of my own future are usually incomplete and annoyingly unhelpful.” Her lips twisted in an ironic grin. “The curse of being a Seer is we’re rather short-sighted when it comes to ourselves.”

“That’s tragic.” Bryn rolled her eyes. Yep, no love for völva. This little surprise probably pissed her off even more than springing Ivar on her. She planted her hands on her hips. “I take it you’ve all decided there’s going to be a sleepover at my house?”

“We can camp outside, if you like,” Ivar offered with a winning smile. A smile that looked a lot like Erik’s, now that he thought about it. And that was probably an uncomfortable reminder of their genetic connection too. Well, fuck. Ivar continued, “This wouldn’t be our first night in a tent.”

No, since most of them had been on raiding campaigns before, they’d spent days at sea in boats with barely any cover from the elements and nights on land in tents. Camping outdoors in the mild Virginia weather would be a cakewalk after that.

Bryn flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I don’t have enough bedrooms for all of you. There’s a bunkhouse out behind the barn. Ivar, you can take the downstairs bedroom here so you don’t have to deal with the bunkhouse steps. There are fewer getting up to the main house.” She jerked her chin at the völva. “You can have the spare room upstairs. I think there’s a saddle on the bed, but that’s easy enough to move.”

Looking a little ill—which Erik guessed had to do with sleeping so close to a valkyrie with a reputation for bloodshed and a serious hate for völva—Nauma asked, “What about the cottage on the other side of the driveway?”

“That’s my stable hands’ house.” Bryn bent over to tie her boots. “The guys will be back tomorrow night.”

“They live together?” Nauma’s eyebrows winged upward. “Gay?”

“Brothers,” Bryn grunted.

“Ah.” The handmaiden shifted from foot to foot, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Erik sighed. “Val said there was news. Is Nauma it?”

“No, but she comes bearing news.” Ivar straightened in his chair. “Or at least some information about why Ragnarök is happening now.”

The völva took a breath and nodded. “The basics are this: there are two eclipse seasons each year, one every six months, each lasting a little over a month. Some seasons have more eclipses than others. This one is going to have three—solar, lunar, solar. In certain parts of the world, North America being one of them, these eclipses will be visible.”

A solar eclipse would fulfill part of the ancient prophecy. Erik tilted his head. “The sun will be consumed.”

“Yes.”

Bryn crossed her arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “A bunch of eclipses doesn’t necessarily mean dick. Loki hasn’t escaped yet, has he? And what about the dragon? Jörmungand still sleeps.”

Ivar raised a hand, maybe to ward off an argument between the women, maybe just to get their attention. “I suspect all the high-magnitude earthquakes in the last few years are part of a ruse, caused by Loki, to awaken the sleeping dragon.”

“Where is the sleeping dragon?” Val asked. “Does anyone even know anymore? People used to think it encircled the circumference of the world, but obviously not.”

Ivar shrugged. “I think it’s at the center of the world, encased in the lava core. All the huge earthquakes are meant to disturb its slumber.”

“Shit.” Holm summed up what everyone else was thinking.

Snorting, Ivar spread his hands. “Yep.”

“The more important issue is—where will it come up?” Bryn asked the question, but Erik noted she didn’t look directly at Ivar. Everyone else was, but not her. Was being near their grandson so painful for her? Erik doubted she’d admit it even if it was excruciating.

“A fissure at the bottom of the ocean, maybe.” Nauma ventured the first guess. “They cut deeper than anywhere land-based. It’d be the easiest escape route.”

“A volcano?” Val closed one eye, as if that might help him concentrate. “Mauna Loa, Mount Fuji, Tambora, Lakagígar. There are several big active ones.”

“And even more huge dormant ones,” Erik pointed out.

Bryn huffed out an impatient breath. “Both options basically mean the dragon could come up anywhere on Earth.”

Again, it was Holm who offered the unanimous opinion. “And ain’t that a bitch?”

A bit of tension-breaking laughter went through the group, and Erik tightened the fit of his towel. Not that he gave two shits about nudity, but he didn’t know everyone else well enough to say if they cared. Val and Nauma, he’d only met a few weeks ago.

He didn’t want to ask the next question, but he did anyway. “Loki might be causing the earthquakes, but he’s still imprisoned, right?”

Ivar tapped a button on his ever-present laptop and turned it toward him. There were massive lists of files, all labeled by date. “I keep tabs on Loki.”

He opened one of the files and a grainy video showed. A man lay chained to a rock, and a woman sat next to him. She held a bowl over his head, catching venom from a snake mounted over the man’s face. The giant Loki and his wife. Loki had gone to Odin’s hall and insulted all the gods, trying to cause strife in Asgard. This was the trickster giant’s punishment.

Ivar ran a finger along the side of the screen. “I have video on Loki at all times. Set that up the moment I could get an inconspicuous camera near him. Fortunately, he’s bound here on Earth because there’s no way to get a signal from any other realm. No audio, but I can see him, his wife, and anyone else who stops by to visit.”

“Does anyone?” Bryn asked sharply.

“Visit? No.” Ivar shook his head. “He’s guarded 24/7, of course. No one else even tries to get close.”

Erik arched an eyebrow. “You don’t trust his guards?”

Ivar just gave him a steady stare. “I don’t trust much of anything or anyone. It pays to be cautious.”

“Agreed.” Erik rubbed the back of his neck where stress was drawing the muscles tight. “Have you tracked any other gods?”

“Not many. Of the major gods, only Heimdall.” Ivar’s expression turned frustrated. “Otherwise…Thor’s wife, Sif, pops over to Earth occasionally. The skiing goddess Skadi hits the slopes every winter all over the world, so she’s pretty easy to spot. I also have a bead on a couple of giants who like to come to Earth. That’s it.”

The video showed Loki’s wife moving away to empty her bowlful of venom. In the time she was gone, the snake dripped his poison onto Loki’s face. The giant jerked on his bonds, writhing in agony. Though the sound was muted, it was clear he screamed.

Nauma pressed a hand to her chest. “How long has he been that way?”

Glancing at her, Ivar lifted a brow, his words dry. “Chained by the ironized entrails of his son, getting poison dripped on his face unless his wife catches it in a bowl first?”

She winced. “Yeah. That.”

“Beyond the reckoning of human time, I think. So, many thousands of years. Does he realize it’s been that long? Or have the days just blurred?” Ivar shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s plenty of time to build up some bitterness. If he gets loose, Ragnarök is on like Donkey Kong.”

Bryn snorted. “Such a Viking way to put it.”

He winked. “Nothing wrong with liking technology. Just because I was born before the fun gadgets were invented, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy modern amenities.”

“You used to invent a few fun gadgets of your own,” Val noted, wagging his finger at his old comrade.

Ivar’s lips curved in a smug grin. “Still do.”

Val’s gaze lit. “Show me.”

Swiveling in his chair, Ivar motioned to Erik. “Show the man.”

Waving down at his bare chest and towel, he rolled his eyes. “I don’t have it on me. I’ll get it.”

It only took a few minutes to fetch his bag from the back of his SUV, but he took the opportunity to yank on a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and sandals. He didn’t bother with underwear. Ivar wasn’t the most patient soul on the planet, so Erik decided it was prudent to move his ass.

Besides, he wanted to show off his new toys.

He grinned and jogged back up the porch steps, setting his duffel on the coffee table. Though he was betting Bryn would try to kick him out to the bunkhouse with Holm and Val, Erik was going to do his best to make sure his bag was parked in her bedroom until it was time for them all to leave. They might rub each other the wrong way at times, but that happened with strong personalities. Plus, they also rubbed each other the right way. No reason not to enjoy some more of that.

Unzipping the duffel, he pulled out a gun and a palm-sized metal cylinder. He ejected the clip from the handgun and gave it to Ivar. “You explain this one.”

Ivar took it, but gestured to the cylinder. “Nah, show them the good stuff first.”

“That’s the good stuff?” Holm’s tone was somewhere between dubious and bored.

“Just watch, numbnuts.”

Holm sat up, his heavy brows snapping together. “My nuts are anything but numb, limp dick.”

“Considering I’m looking at you, yes, my dick is limp.” Ivar looked him over in what could only be called an insulting manner. “You just don’t do it for me, Swamp Thing.”

“Children, I’m going to box your ears if you don’t behave.” Val flicked his fingers at Erik. “I want to see the good stuff.”

Erik held up the cylinder, checked to make sure no one was standing too closely, and hit a concealed button at one end. A flattened, tightly linked chain unfurled from the other end, and he swung it in a quick arc.

“Well, that’s interesting, but—”

Erik flicked his wrist the way Ivar had shown him, and the chain solidified into a Viking sword. “It’s unbreakable, designed to cut down even a god or a giant.”

He flipped the sword around his hand, set it on a fingertip to show its superb balance, thrust and parried with the air. Flaunting his skills just a little. Yes, because there were women in the room. Apparently, there were some things a man never grew out of. Flicking his wrist again, he let the sword revert back to a razor-sharp chain, and then hit the button to retract it. He grinned when even Bryn let out a soft, “Ooooh.”

“I got the initial idea from Star Wars lightsabers.” Ivar sighed with satisfaction. “Nerdgasm, I know, but…it fucking worked.”

“How do you know it’ll cut down a giant?” Bryn reached for the weapon, and Erik made sure his fingers stroked over hers as he handed it to her. She gave him a smirk to let him know he was as subtle as Thor’s war-hammer, but he just winked back.

Erik answered her question, though he knew it was directed at Ivar. “Another immortal I ran across a while back. The blacksmith, Volund. He forged legendary swords, even those used by the gods. I introduced him to Ivar, figuring they could create some advanced weaponry for me.”

“Viking meets James Bond?” Val asked, smoothing his accent into a posh Bond-like tone.

“Something like that.” When he’d met the smith, Erik had been more interested in surviving the coming fight than looking cool with gadgets. “The chain-sword is one of their inventions. As are the bullets.”

“Bullets.” Val snagged the clip out of Ivar’s hand, thumbing one of the bullets free. He held it up to the sunlight that streamed through the window, squinting at the metal casing. “Looks normal.”

“It’s supposed to.” Ivar had all the appearance of a sugar-addled kid let loose in a candy store. “But, like the sword, it can put a hole through a giant. Evens the odds for us a bit, don’t you think?”

White teeth flashing in a smile, Val flipped the bullet in the air like a quarter and caught it neatly. “It’s brill, mate.”

Angling a glare at Holm, Ivar demanded, “Still think it’s not the good stuff?”

“It’s not bad.” Holm fought a grin and lost. “It’s only the good stuff if you have enough for the rest of us.”

Ivar laughed, grabbed the wheels on his chair and pivoted, then rolled out the door. “Let me give you a tour of my van.”

Everyone followed. Except Bryn.

Erik didn’t realize she was absent until they’d reached the van, but his gaze met Ivar’s, and a small flash of hurt in the other man’s eyes told Erik he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

The question was—was it Ivar she didn’t want to be around or Erik?

4

Letting the world-saving misfits go play with new weapons—and, yes, Bryn could admit she wanted to play too, but mostly because they were shiny toys and she was a valkyrie—she retreated to the barn to take her horses out to their pastures. Because her stable hands were out of town, she’d already decided the ponies could have a leisurely weekend without a lot of exercise riding. Sure, she could ask the berserkers for help, but she’d rather they were indebted to her for trespassing and using her home as their personal B&B than be indebted to them by begging assistance.

She just…needed a moment or forty to process. There was a völva in her house. As a breed, they were meddlesome, troublemaking, and power-hungry. She’d admit this particular völva didn’t come across as power-hungry, but the rest was spot on. Bryn suppressed a twitch at the thought. Those bitches loved to find your weak places and lay them bare with their prophecies. In that, Nauma seemed to fit the mold perfectly.

Bryn would deal with the völva. Just like she did with everything else.

No matter what shit rolled downhill and piled up on her, she shoveled her way out and got on with things. She was, at heart, a no-bullshit, practical creature. Which mean that, yeah, she knew she was going to get dragged into this fight. First, because Erik was right—she did care what happened to humans—and second, because she didn’t want to end up a giant’s appetizer. They liked to play with their food before they consumed it, and they preferred their meals alive and kicking when they ate. Letting them win the coming fight wouldn’t end well, for mankind in general, or for her personally.

She checked the rifle she had in the barn. Though it was cleaned regularly, she broke it down and made sure it was in perfect working order. Maybe Ivar had bullets for this caliber. She fought a flinch as she thought of him. Ivar. Another person she wasn’t thrilled about having around. Looking at him was a piercing reminder that she hadn’t gotten to see her baby girl grow up, that she’d never seen Aslaug get married and have babies of her own. Bryn should have been able to hold Ivar in her arms when he was a tiny thing, not this hulking gadget-junkie in a wheelchair.

She swallowed hard and forced those thoughts from her head. Should, could, would…that way lay madness. Snapping the clip into her rifle, she carried it across the yard to the back porch, thought about leaving it propped against the house, and decided to take it in with her.

Walking in the door, she almost tripped over Ivar. Of course. Then again, it wasn’t as if Erik or Nauma would be so much better. “Oh, sorry. I’m not used to anyone being in the house except me.”

“No problem.” He wheeled backwards to let her pass. “Erik tells me your stable boys are away until tomorrow.”

“It almost sounds ominous when you say it, like look at all the time we have before the unsuspecting humans return.” She congratulated herself on keeping her voice light and easy. Sad when standards got that low, but she was uncomfortable and trying not to be.

Sidestepping him, she couldn’t make herself look directly at him and focused on laying her rifle across the table as if the task required her full attention. She needed to get over this weirdness with him. She knew that, but he was just…a reminder of everything that had been wrong and right about her mortal existence. She’d put all that behind her, and the last day had churned up memories and emotions she didn’t want.

“Ominous, huh? Should I rub my hands together maniacally for effect?”

“Please don’t.” She reached into the fruit bowl and snagged an apple.

The silence stretched until it was weird, but she had nothing to say to this stranger who shared her blood. Or maybe she had too much to say and just didn’t know how.

“Um. I’m reading a book about Erik. And you.” He held up something, and she glanced at his hand to see what it was. One of those ebook readers. Figures he’d eschew the old-fashioned paper version. “You know, Tolkien thinks you and Erik will survive Ragnarök and be like the next Adam and Eve.”

She rolled her eyes. “Awesome, just what I always wanted.”

He tapped the Kindle against his thigh. “Tolkien calls Erik the World’s Chosen. Because he’s going to defeat the baddies and stuff.”

“After everyone else is dead, just in time for me to be stuck alone with him for all eternity, popping out babies to repopulate the planet.” She went to the sink and washed her fruit. “Yeah. I see this going so well.”

“Well, you know Tolkien was a scholar on cultures like ours. He translated Beowulf from the original language.” He made a humming noise. “Good translation too.”

“Peachy.” She crunched into her apple.

Ivar’s voice went soft. “Do you really hate him that much?”

“Tolkien?” She propped herself back against the edge of the counter, pretending to think. “Bit of a rip-off of ancient mythologies for his fiction, but otherwise, he was okay.”

“Bryn.” Ivar’s tone was scolding.

She sighed. “It’s all water under the bridge. Leave it alone.”

Because once upon a time, that fate would have sounded absolutely perfect to her. Erik, her, an eternity of togetherness, and their beautiful babies to hold in her arms. But that was a long time ago.

“Is it really water under the bridge? Somehow, I don’t think so. I think—” He cut himself off, and she heard him drum his fingers on the face of his ereader. “Look, I have no idea what it’s like to be handed the kind of destiny you have. I have no idea what it’s like to be a myth in my own time. Sure, people were justifiably terrified of me when I was leading my armies during invasions, because I was a damn good strategist, but…that’s not the same as what you and Erik have had thrust upon you. No one tried to box me into a fate I didn’t ask for.”

She’d bet he hadn’t asked to end up on four wheels instead of two legs, but she didn’t say that aloud. He’d clearly adapted to his disability long ago, which couldn’t have been easy. She took another bite of the apple, chewing it slowly.

When she made no response, he sighed. “You know, they say the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale is based on you. That has to be weird.”

“I’ve heard that.” She focused on the toe of her boot, bouncing her heel against the floor. “They also say the Arthurian legend is based on Erik. The once and future king.”

“And the treacherous, backstabbing wife. Though would that be you or Gudrun?”

“Gudrun.” Her grip tightened on the apple so hard, a chunk broke off and fell to the floor.

“She didn’t plot to kill him,” he mused. Ah, salt on the wound, how it burned.

Bile coated her tongue, and she tossed the remainder of her apple in the trashcan. “She and her mother Grimhild set the wheels in motion that led to his death. And mine.”

“Or we could blame it all on the ring and the treasure. They say Andvaranaut was cursed, and anyone who possessed it would suffer with strife and bad luck.”

“The ring was cursed, but Grimhild’s greed and her family’s scheming played a big-ass role in what happened. Curses can be broken, but you can’t fix evil.” She’d sacrificed her life to break that curse, though the myths rarely spoke of that, did they? Instead they painted her as a petty, vengeful woman scorned. Boohoo for her, right? She was hardly the only person to ever be unjustly vilified, so she didn’t complain, especially when she was somewhat less than innocent anyway. She scooped the fallen bit of fruit off the ground and tossed it too. Then she grabbed a sponge and wiped up the mess on the floor.

“My mother said you somehow broke Andvaranaut’s curse, and that she and Erik’s other daughter Svanhild were able to live their lives without that curse hanging over them because of you.”

That one sentence made something deep inside Bryn crack, and she wiped shaking hands down her thighs. “Who…who told her that?”

“Gudrun.” His chair creaked as he shifted his weight. “Something about your death affected her deeply, and she would never hear an unkind word said about you.”

The irony of that burned through her, since the woman had never had anything but filthy, vicious things to say about her when they’d been living in the same castle.

But it wasn’t Gudrun that interested her. She licked her lips. “Did Aslaug…was my daughter happy? Did she have a good life?”

Freya had kept Bryn busy in Asgard for the first century or two after her death. But, like Odin, Freya preferred those who served her to spend some time amongst the mortals every now and then. During that first sojourn on Earth, Bryn had convinced Freya to leave her with the humans instead of making her live in Valhalla, where she might have to see Erik. But all those years in Asgard meant Bryn had never known what had become of her daughter. She could probably look it up on the internet, but she found it was easier to sleep at night if you didn’t ask questions you didn’t really want the answers to. So why was she asking it now? Apparently, she’d turned into a masochist in the last twenty-four hours.

“She looked exactly like you,” Ivar said.

“Yes.” Aslaug had had the same pale hair and midnight gaze, and Bryn remembered so clearly the way her heart had clenched like a great fist the moment those solemn, dark eyes had blinked up at her. Gods, she had loved that child, known that she would do anything to protect her.

“She acted a bit like you too. Not a shieldmaiden, but definitely no bullshit, no pity, no standing around wringing her hands like a helpless half-wit.” He popped a wheelie with his chair. “My father dismissed me as worthless when he found I couldn’t walk, but Aslaug? Ha! Mother told me that I could be every inch the warrior dear old dad was, and told me that whining about my problems would get me nowhere. She was the one who shoved a bow and arrow into my hands the first time and insisted I learn how to use it. She was the one who sent me off on my first raid and demanded I not only come back alive but that I bring her great treasure.”

“Did you?” Bryn scrubbed her hand across her eyes, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Her daughter had inherited more of her personality than she’d realized, considering she’d only been part of her life for the first three years.

“Of course.” He chuckled softly. “Disappointing Mother was something my brothers and I never did. We’d sooner cross our father than her, and Ragnar’s reputation for ruthlessness was well earned.”

“Was he good to her?” Bryn knew better than most that in days gone by an unhappy husband had the right to unleash his wrath on his wife in any way he saw fit.

“Yes, he was. They had their arguments, but he never beat or raped her, if that’s what you’re asking. They had a good marriage.” Ivar’s tone was matter-of-fact, and Bryn felt his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Too many emotions might come exploding out if she saw even a hint of empathy in his expression. He continued, “To answer your first question, I believe she was happy. I was too young and self-involved to think much about it at the time but, except for the few times she and Father were at cross-purposes, she always seemed content with her lot in life.”

“Good.” She swallowed hard, trying to tuck those unwanted, unwieldy feelings away. “Okay, I need to grab a quick shower. Excuse me.”

She tried to beat a hasty retreat out of the room but almost collided with Holm. He grinned and sniffed the air a bit, no doubt smelling exactly what she’d been up to with Erik earlier. “You know, you don’t have to shower on our behalf. Actually, I rather like—”

“You’ll only finish that sentence if you want to die slowly and painfully,” she snapped, glad to have someone to vent her spleen on, to let out some of the emotion that was threatening to strangle her. If looks could kill, the one she gave him would have ended him. “Also, don’t for a second presume I do anything on your behalf. Now, move.”

He blinked, stepped aside, and bowed gallantly. “Of course. My mistake.”

And then she got the hell out of there. Though not before she heard Holm remark to Ivar, “I can see why Siegfried likes her. She’s got sharp edges.”

Gods, wasn’t that the truth?

But those sharp edges had protected her through a lot of years where women were men’s property, viewed as mindless twits, and used as little more than brood mares.

She was glad that fate hadn’t befallen her daughter, that someone who’d known Aslaug could separate fact from fiction. When Bryn had sacrificed her mortal existence, all she could do was pray her baby girl would have a good life, knowing she’d never be able to protect her again, but also knowing that ending the curse would be the very best thing she could do to ensure Aslaug had the kind of future Bryn wanted for her.

She hadn’t failed entirely. Thank all the gods.

In that one thing, she hadn’t failed.

* * *

Sweat poured down Erik’s skin, stinging his eyes and streaking in rivulets down his limbs. He ignored the discomfort, keeping his gaze locked on his opponent. At the moment, it was Holm, but he’d already gone two rounds with Val. They were practicing with the new weapons Ivar had given them.

They each carried the modified Viking chain-sword in one hand, but preferred different weapons for the other. Val liked the deadly elegance of a wicked knife, Holm preferred the brute force of a battle axe, and Erik had opted for a second chain-sword—one in serrated chain form, the other as a sword, but he switched up which was which to throw the other berserkers off. So far, the tactic was working.

Ivar whipped himself around to keep track of the fights, serving as a wisecracking coach and obnoxious referee all in one. “Keep your axe up, Holm, or your sorry ass is gonna—”

Erik slashed out with the chain before Ivar could finish, leaving a neat slice across Holm’s shoulder. The other man grunted, cursed lividly, and danced backward, but not before Erik whipped out with his sword and slapped the other man’s buttocks with the flat of his blade.

“Oh!” Ivar hooted. “And a little bitch slap to keep it interesting.”

“Can I kill him? Please?” Holm begged as they stopped fighting for a moment, his gaze beseeching Erik. “Put him out of all our misery. You know you’re thinking it too.”

Val smothered a laugh. “So much for being a southern gentleman.”

“Only since the 1700s, y’all,” Holm drawled, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. “Remember, I’m a Viking. A very good Viking—meaning a very bad man.”

A horse snorted loudly, and Erik glanced to the right. Bryn was riding in a ring nearby, exercising that big gray stallion. They seemed to be doing some sort of fancy training maneuvers—dressage, he thought it was called—but he didn’t think he was imagining it that every time she went past the fence closest to the fight, she slowed down. Maybe that was part of her dressage routine, but he sensed her attention focus on them. It should be unsettling how in sync he was with her, but he found he liked it. Not that he’d tell her or anyone else, but in his own head, he couldn’t deny he liked the way his senses sharpened whenever she was around. He liked the way she kept him on his toes, though he doubted there was much about him she enjoyed except what he did to her in bed.

Ah, well. He enjoyed the hell out of that too.

“Kick his ass, Erik.” Ivar’s demand yanked Erik back to the skirmish. “He threatened your family, Grandad.”

“Easy on the Grandad crap.” Erik fended off a swing of Holm’s battle axe, but the hit vibrated up his arm with bone-rattling intensity.

“Come on, that was pathetic, Erik.” Ivar stabbed a finger at him. “Defend your bloodline, man. You should be wiping the ground with his face. He can’t fight for shit. I’d say he fought like a girl, but we all know Bryn could beat both your asses. Maybe she should be defending my bloodline.”

Holm opened his mouth to retort, but Val beat him to the punch. “You don’t want to challenge Ivar the Boneless. He will kill you. I’ve seen him in battle.”

Ivar bared his teeth in a terrifying grin. “Let’s go, gentlemen. You need to keep your skills up for what’s coming.”

Spitting on the dirt, Holm eyed Erik. They began circling each other, trying to find an opening for attack. The slight pause in the fighting had given Erik’s body time to remind him of all the bruises, the aching muscles, the little nicks and cuts he’d earned during these bouts. Fatigue dragged at him, but Ivar was right, they needed to be sharp if they wanted to have a hope in hell of beating giants.

Erik clenched his jaw, shoved the pain away, and brought an overhand swing down on Holm’s sword. Sparks flew through the air as their blades clashed, and Holm’s eyebrow lowered in intense concentration. His axe came within a hairsbreadth of ending Erik’s favorite body part, and the wolf within him snarled as he whipped out of the way.

Holm smiled, fangs flashing. “Careful, Twinkletoes. I’m gonna have you singing at a higher pitch.”

In answer, Erik flicked his wrist up, wrapping the chain around the axe’s handle. Throwing his weight back, he ripped the weapon out of Holm’s hand and sent it flying across the yard. Then Erik slammed his foot into Holm’s wrist, and the sword went the way of the battle axe.

Erik made an exaggerated kissy face at his opponent.

“Fuck you.” Holm laughed, dropped low and swept his leg out, catching Erik below the knees, and they both went down. Holm ended up on top, wrapping a beefy hand around Erik’s wrist and slamming it against the ground. His fingers went slack for just long enough to lose his grip on the sword hilt.

Shit.

Holm’s knee hit his ribs, and the breath whooshed out of his lungs. Black spots swam in front of his eyes, but he managed to keep hold of the other chain-sword. They wrestled for the final weapon, fists and elbows jabbing. Pain exploded through him at each hit, but Erik brought his heel down on the back of Holm’s knee, and that leg buckled. He used the leverage to throw Holm over onto his back. In the space between heartbeats, Erik pinned the other man. A snap of his wrist and the chain solidified into a blade, which he had at Holm’s throat, digging in just enough to leave a thin cut. Holm froze under him, growled, and slapped a palm to the ground, ending the match.

“All right, good work.” Ivar clapped twice. “I think we’re done for the day.”

Erik rolled to the side and collapsed beside Holm, both of them panting for breath. “You okay?”

Holm slung an arm over his eyes. “Fine, you?”

Using the sleeve of his shirt, Erik swiped the sweat from his face. “I could use a stiff drink.”

Holm grunted an agreement. “I need a change of clothes and a shower first, but then I’m in. I have a flask in my bag. Moonshine.”

Amusement trickled through Erik. “Homemade?”

“Is there any other? That bottled, commercial shit that says moonshine on the label is pansy-ass. My moonshine puts hair on your chest.” Holm thumped his sternum for emphasis. “So good it’ll knock you on your ass and bring tears to your eyes.”

“A ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one.” Val offered them both an arm and hauled them to their feet.

Bryn strode toward the house, offering a curt nod as she passed. She didn’t stop to chat, barely looked at them. He thought her gaze lingered longingly on the chain-swords, then she met his eyes, and for a second he’d swear her expression softened, and something deep in his chest warmed. He winked at her, and a little smile curved her mouth, but then she went through the screen door without a backward glance. And what did that mean? Was that a fuck-off-and-die or a come-find-me-later? He had no clue. It was two steps forward and three steps back with her. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure where the steps forward were leading anyway. If he didn’t know what direction he wanted them to go, he doubted they’d ever get there.

“I can smell baking bread.” He took a deep breath. “I think food is calling my name first.”

Ivar snorted. “I doubt it’s the bread calling your name.”

Erik set a hand on Ivar’s shoulder and leaned down to speak in the man’s ear. “That’s none of your business, is it? Also, no matter how hot she is, she’ll always be your grandmother. Think about that.”

“You’re gonna give me nightmares, man.”

“You’re welcome.” He scrubbed a palm over Ivar’s hair.

Ivar propped an elbow on the arm of his chair. “So you’re getting the one who got away, huh? You figure there’s no reason not to start repopulating the planet together a little early? Should we send out wedding invitations?”

“It’s not like that.” Or was it? Was that what he wanted from her? A second chance with the one who got away? He froze for a moment, and then slowly bent over and picked up his two weapons, retracting the chains into the hilts.

“It’s exactly like that, Erik. I see how you look at her when you think no one notices, and I see how she looks back.”

“Stay out of it, Ivar.” Because what else could he say? He knew he craved Bryn like an addict after a fix, that being around her made him feel alive the way nothing and no one else ever could. He knew prophecy dictated that they’d be together, but the past shaped the future, and there were still too many unanswered questions between them. There was still too much suspicion and distrust to make a real relationship. Could that be changed? Did he want it to be changed? He wasn’t sure. He only knew he’d take any chance he had to get his hands on her. Whether he could open his heart again, he didn’t know yet. Whether he wanted her to open her heart again…even the thought sent a kind of pained longing through him.

Yes. No. Maybe.

Fuck it. So much of their history was tied up in unforgiveable acts. Some that were beyond their control, but even understanding that didn’t remove the sting of betrayal. He blew out a breath, though his stomach churned with an onslaught of memories.

He walked toward the house, leaving the other men to their own devices. He’d barely made it into the kitchen when Nauma started talking. Then again, a few minutes in her presence showed that she was rarely at a loss for words. He far preferred Bryn’s more reserved personality.

“She went upstairs. Says she’s not hungry and skipping dinner.” Nauma’s voice grew stiff. “I’m not a bad cook, you know.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” He tried to keep his tone as soothing as possible.

Her lips twisted. “Not all völva are like your late mother-in-law.”

“Thank the gods.” The fewer people in the world like Grimhild, the better. Though her abuse of power had ended with Andvaranaut’s curse raining hell down on her family, so he hoped she’d choked to death on her regrets.

Nauma’s smile was a thin slash, her brown eyes troubled. “I should hope Bryn starves, but mostly I feel bad about her going hungry because of me.”

He sighed, not sure how to word this in a way that didn’t offend. “Nauma, it’s not about you. Or not just you. It’s me too. It’s Ivar. It’s all of us invading her space. It’s Ragnarök. Try not to take it so personally. We all have our coping mechanisms. Hers include isolating herself from anyone.”

Sudden sympathy filled her gaze. “Makes it easier when people die, if you didn’t care about them too much to begin with.”

“Yeah.” On the one hand, he could understand it. On the other, he hated that he seemed to be included in the people Bryn wanted to shut out. Even if he wasn’t sure he wanted in, he also knew he hated being out. It made no damn sense, but there it was.

“I’m not sure if that’s sad or just sane.” Nauma stirred a big pot of beef stew, her brow furrowed. “I’ve never been in a battle, so I can only speculate on what kind of mental processes you guys go through.”

“We all do what we have to do to survive, mentally and physically.” He considered the food she’d set out on the table—fresh baked bread, peach cobbler, salad. “Would you mind if I took some food upstairs? Maybe I can tempt her into eating.”

She pulled a couple of bowls out of the cupboard and dished out stew. He wasn’t sure where she procured a tray, but soon two servings of everything were being pushed into his hands. She gave him a wry look. “I think you want to tempt her into other things, but…I have a feeling that not letting her shut everyone out is a good thing.”

Something about her inflection made him focus on her more intently. “Would this feeling be—”

“Not an official vision,” she hastened to assure him, but then she hesitated. “Though I’ll be honest and warn you that ignoring my hunches has always ended disastrously for me.”

Disastrous. His gut clenched. Knowing everything Bryn had been through, he loathed the idea of her going through more. But the world might be ending, so they were all going to be put through the ringer, including her. If they failed to stop the apocalypse, no one on this farm except Bryn and him would survive. He hated that thought, hated that those he cared for would die, hated that innocent people would be killed in a war between gods they didn’t even believe in. They had to stop this. They had to. But if he were honest, Ragnarök had little to do with why he didn’t like being shut out by Bryn. Everything inside him rebelled at any distance between them. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day she’d had him killed, had only seen her from afar a few times since then. But now that he’d had her in his arms again, he found he couldn’t give it up. He needed to be near her and maybe, for a little while, allow them both to not be quite so alone.

He smiled at Nauma. “Well, your gut instinct and mine are saying the same thing.”

“Have a lovely evening. The rest of us will manage just fine without you.”

“You’ll let us know if there are any Ragnarök updates.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Of course. Visions from me, techno-alerts from Ivar…we’ll call you.”

Val stepped in the door, his gaze going directly to Nauma. A gamut of emotions crossed the man’s face, from blatant hunger to agonized suffering and back again. Nauma seemed intent on ignoring him. It appeared that the history between those two was as tortured as the one between Erik and Bryn. He shook his head and left the room. There was nothing he could do to help them. He wasn’t even sure there was anything he could do to help himself, in the end, but that was his problem to deal with.

When he reached Bryn’s bedroom, the door was closed. He shifted the tray to one hand and knocked.

He heard bed springs creak, light footsteps, and then the door opened. She already wore pajamas—a loose pair of drawstring pants and a tank top. He tried not to focus on her obvious lack of bra and the beautiful things that thin shirt did to her breasts.

Her gaze swept him from head to toe before she jerked her chin at the food. “What’s that for?”

He mustered up his most charming smile. “I’ll trade you some dinner and delicious dessert for a shower and a bed to sleep in that won’t have Val and Holm shaking the walls with their snoring.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Do they actually snore?”

“I have no idea.” He winked. “But I stowed my bag in here this morning, so I had to come back. And I came with an offering of home-cooked goodness.”

“Smart man.” A smile fluttered at the corners of her lips, but she sobered quickly. “I’m not really fit company right now.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you in worse moods,” he said mildly. “Killing moods, in fact.”

“True.” She dipped her chin to concede the point.

“You really don’t want to try any of this? It smells amazing.” He waved a hand to waft the scent of food towards her. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a very tiny rumble from her stomach. “I know I worked up an appetite today, and I bet riding horses for hours did the same for you. Though if you’re really not interested, I’m pretty sure I can finish it all myself.”

Her tongue flicked out to run along her lower lip. “You could just leave mine here.”

His body tightened, and he couldn’t help the image that formed in his mind of other things he’d like her tongue to be doing. “Sorry, no. I’m not your butler. All of this is mine, and I’m willing to share what I have, if you’re willing to share what you have.”

“My shower and my bed.” Her expression turned dubious.

He shrugged lightly. “Or you could go down and hang out with the team, eat with all of them. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you at the table.”

“I’m not that hungry.” But she couldn’t hold his gaze, glancing to the side.

“You’re avoiding everyone, let’s be honest.” He sighed. “You know, the first time I saw you, you were surrounded by a wall of fire.”

Frowning, she shook her head. “Yeah, so?”

“You were already something of a legend then.” And her legend continued to this day, no matter how she tried to avoid it.

“So were you, dragon-slayer.” She propped her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Isn’t that tray getting heavy?”

“I have preternatural strength so, no, not really. And don’t change the subject.” He gave her a pointed looked. “That’s how you still are, isn’t it? Always throwing up barriers between yourself and everyone else.”

She stiffened, her jaw jutting. “Those barriers have helped protect me from some pretty awful stuff. And I haven’t exactly done well the few times I dropped them, have I? A lover who discarded me like I was no better than dirty laundry, a husband who had no problem having me drugged so he could take your sloppy seconds.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “Yeah, those were some great life choices. I can’t imagine why I don’t drop those barriers more often.”

A direct hit. He tried not to wince and forced a smile. “Why don’t we talk about that over dinner?”

Her lips pursed as if she’d tasted something sour. “I’m not interested in talking.”

Neither was he, but he had a feeling they both needed to. It was far past time they started clearing the air between them, especially if they were going to be shackled to each other for all eternity. “Then how about I feed you and just wring you out in bed?”

“You? Wring me out?” Her laugh was derisive. “What delusional fantasy are you living in?”

He leaned forward until his nose was an inch from hers, invading her space. His gaze locked with hers, and he let a challenging grin curve his mouth. “I dare you to let me try.”

He felt her muscles tighten, but she didn’t step back. Not his Bryn—she never backed down. Her expression went regally cool, reminding him of the queen she once was. “Really? You think I’m going to fall for that?”

But the sweet scent of her arousal reached his nose, and his cock hardened in response. The wolf in him writhed with the need to claim her. He sensed her breathing and heart rate elevate and, if he glanced down, he was almost certain he’d see her nipples had tightened. But he kept his gaze on her face and let his smile widen. “No, I think you’re curious enough to want to know exactly how I intend to go about wringing you out.”

Her lips compressed as if she was trying to hide a grin. She stepped back and held the door open. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Please, do.”

“First, though…you need a shower.” Her nose wrinkled as he walked by and set the tray on the mattress. “Before you sit on my clean sheets. Seriously.”

“So fastidious.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, nipping at her full lower lip, then headed for the bathroom.

He took the fastest shower of all time, not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind. He dried off, hung his towel, and was back in the bedroom within seven minutes. She was still spooning soup into her mouth, using the broth as a dipping sauce for her bread. He stood there for a moment, just watching her. She was so unbelievably gorgeous, it stole his breath every time he looked at her. Not that she’d ever cared much about her looks, and he thought that had always made her even more beautiful in his eyes. His late wife—damn her perfidious soul—had wielded her beauty like a weapon, using it to bring men to their knees. When it hadn’t worked with him, she’d resorted to dirtier tactics.

Bryn’s eyebrows arched. “What are you standing there for?”

“Enjoying the food porn.”

She chuckled, and an automatic smile formed on his lips. He loved when she laughed.

He stepped over to the bed, careful not to overset anything on the tray as he sat on the mattress. She handed him the remaining bread and bowl of stew and he grinned in return. “Thanks.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, creating a cascade of blond silk. “Well you need to carb up if you’re going to wring me out.”

“Sure.” He held his grin in place, propped his shoulders against her headboard, and tucked into his dinner.

As Nauma had promised, she was a very good cook. The soup was flavorful, and he probably could have eaten an entire loaf of the bread by himself.

They ate in companionable silence, and he realized how rarely he’d had the opportunity to spend quiet time alone with Bryn. He wouldn’t have pictured her ever being so restful, but contentment spread through him—sweet and warm and entirely unfamiliar. It was…nice. The word seemed tepid to describe the feeling within him, but he could get used to this. For once, the stress and pressure of being the World’s Chosen fell away and he could just be. If anyone understood what getting such a massive destiny shoved on to his shoulders felt like, it was Bryn. She knew the worst of him and had every reason to loathe him, and yet she was still here, sitting beside him.

It was a relief in many ways.

Death had given him a hero’s welcome to Valhalla, but few knew the real truth behind his demise. No one wanted the secrets that made a hero less than perfect, especially not one who was supposed to father the whole human race after Ragnarök. He was supposed to be flawless if he got to be the only man left standing at the end of days. But Bryn knew how they’d wronged each other and how it had ended both of their lives. She knew his flaws, and she still seemed to think he was up to the task he’d been given.

Her spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl, calling his attention back to the present. She set the dish aside and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on the bony plateau.

“Do you hate me, Bryn?” The question was out of his mouth before he could call it back.

She blinked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Why would that matter, after all this time?”

Let it drop, Siegfried. But he couldn’t. Now that the words had been spoken, he needed to know. “You hated me back then. What I’m asking is—do you still?”

A sigh trickled out of her, and she wrapped her arms around her bent legs. “No, I don’t. I wouldn’t have slept with you otherwise. I’m not sure I like you, but I don’t hate you. I know what the prophecy says about us repopulating the planet, but I’m not sure how much stock I put in that part. We’re good in bed together, so that makes part of fulfilling the prophecy fairly easy. However…we both have dominant personalities. I just don’t buy us not killing each other pretty quickly. That would end the repopulation movement a bit prematurely, wouldn’t it?”

He grunted. “Growing older has made us both more and less tolerant.”

“Ha. Yes, exactly.”

“If it helps…I’ve been kicking my own ass for a millennium for having left you alone and not marrying you the moment you said yes.”

“It helps, and it doesn’t. We could play woulda, coulda, shoulda forever, but that’s a game you can’t win and always just leaves you feeling like shit.” Her hands curved around her bare ankles. “After you left, I called back the ring of fire. I knew men took my being alone as a challenge to try and force me to marry them. While I could handle one or two or three men on my own, if they brought their army with them…I would have been screwed. Literally and figuratively. So I called back the fire. I knew the only man who could get through it was you.”

“Then I spiked your wine with a potion to make you think it was Gunnar and not me.” His smile held no amusement. “After I’d spent all night with you, screwing like minks. After I’d promised Gunnar not to touch you.” He shook his head. “I should have known something was wrong, when I was so in love with Gudrun, so desperate to wed her, and yet I couldn’t resist you. The moment I saw you, I had to have you, had to claim you and make you mine.”

“Wow, great. I’m your sexual Kryptonite,” she replied dryly.

“When the potions wore off and we both realized what had happened—” He swallowed, balling his fingers as old rage flooded him. “I was so fucking angry. It was all I could do not to wring theirs necks.”

She reared back, shooting him an incredulous look. “You brushed it off, told me to forget about it and be content with the good life I had.”

“Of course, because when the potion wore off, I realized how badly I had betrayed you, how dishonorable I’d really been.” He forced his hands to relax, pressing them against the comforter. “The shame was eating me alive. I needed you to be content, does that make sense? That was the only way I could live with myself, if you were happy with the life you’d ended up with.”

“You are such an idiot.” She shook her head. “How could you think I’d be any less angry than you were? How could you not see that I felt even more angry, more betrayed? It wasn’t just them who drugged and used me, it was you. The man I loved more than anything. Enough to basically imprison myself behind a wall of flames. Again. Did you think that was easy? I said I’d wait for you, and I kept my promise.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Old regrets threatened to consume him and burn a hole through his soul, but he battled them back. He couldn’t undo what had been done, and loathing himself accomplished nothing.

She turned her head and met his gaze squarely. “Do you know the potion didn't just wear off for me? Your wife taunted me, humiliated me, because she got you and I didn't. She called me your concubine, your whore.”

A strangled noise was all he could manage. Maybe that label was bandied around these days, but back then? For a lady—a queen—to be called a whore was an insult that could start a war.

“She said shit like that to me every time we were alone together, rubbing salt on that wound daily.” Her crack of laughter was painful to hear. “When all the men were out on raids, she was fucking relentless.”

There had been a lot of raids after the elixir wore off. It wasn’t for the glory anymore; it was to escape the castle so he didn’t have to face Bryn—his sister-in-law, his queen, the woman he’d still loved—day in and day out, so he didn’t have to look at his deceitful wife, so he didn’t murder his mother-in-law.

Bryn had more than earned her reputation as a shieldmaiden while they were away, defending the kingdom against three different sieges. Gunnar and he could be gone so often because they knew the country was safe in her hands. He’d never known Gudrun had made her life miserable.

Her fingers clenched into her pajama pants. “I wanted to kill her, but…she was telling the truth, wasn’t she? You had made me your whore.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Who the fuck cared what he’d meant to do? He’d still done it. He closed his eyes, horror blooming inside him. Gudrun, you heartless bitch. Had he known this back then, he might not have been able to restrain himself from throttling his wife. “No wonder you wanted me dead.”

Bryn leaned back, her head thunking softly against the headboard. “I tried to let it go, tried to be Zen about it like you wanted. But she wouldn’t let me.”

“Shit.” He scrubbed a palm down his face. “I’m so sorry for my part in what happened. I should never have left you in the first place. I’m sorry I let Gudrun and Gunnar and Grimhild come between us.”

She let her hands lift and fall. “That was one fucked up family.”

A gusty laugh escaped him. “Right?”

“They wanted the dragon’s gold.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was all greed, and wanting what wasn’t theirs. We weren’t theirs, your gold wasn’t theirs, but they took everything.”

“But I have my own portion of the blame. I can’t lay it all on their doorstep. Yes, I was drugged and used, but there were certainly more honorable choices I could have made, especially when it came to you.” Then he confessed the darkest part of his truth. “I should never have touched you, but I can’t regret it.”

Her eyes rounded, then narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Hate me if you want, but I will never regret having had the chance to touch you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pass up that chance if you offer it. Even under the influence of a potion, even thinking I was in love with another woman, even engaged to that woman, I couldn’t resist you. I’ll never be able to.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry that you were hurt, I’m ashamed that I broke my word to my best friend—and to you, though I didn’t know it at the time—but touching you? No. I don’t regret that.”

She folded her arms over her breasts. “You’re splitting some very fine hairs on that one.”

“I know. Was what I did wrong? Hell, yes. No question about that. But there are only some parts of it I feel guilty for. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but that doesn’t change how I feel.” He tapped a fingertip against his chest. “Good or bad, I have to live with what happened. I choose not to feel bad about the best sex of my entire life.”

She was silent for a long moment, and he sat, tense, waiting for her to come at him swinging, bloodlust in her eyes. But she heaved a deep sigh.

“I think we can do better. In fact, I think you promised to wring me out tonight.” She gave him an arch look. “Are you backing out on me?”

“Not a chance.”

She nodded crisply. “Good.”

“Otherwise I could take my ass down to the bunkhouse?”

“I thought that went without saying.” Amusement flashed in her dark gaze.

“Dessert first.” He reached for the cobbler. He had some interesting ideas about what the warm peach syrup at the bottom could be used for.

But even as his body revved up for the sex that was coming, he couldn’t help but notice that, as many times as he’d said he was sorry, she hadn’t said she forgave him.

He shouldn’t let it bother him, but it did anyway.

5

An odd noise woke Bryn just before dawn, sending a shiver of foreboding down her spine. She bolted upright in bed, her hand coming down on Erik’s bare back.

“I heard it too,” he breathed. He eased his arm across the mattress, silently lifting his pistol off the nightstand.

It came again. Somewhere between a sob and a choking sound. The voice was female, and close by. Nauma? Was someone in the other woman’s room? Bryn slipped out the long, slender dagger she hid between her mattress and box spring. Unsheathing the blade, she left the leather casing on the bed and rose. Adrenaline flooded her body, her senses sharpening as she eased down the hall, her feet placed carefully on each wood plank so her passage was soundless. Erik followed one step behind her, and then they set their backs against the wall on either side of the völva’s closed door.

“I smell no one else.” His words were almost soundless, but she heard him anyway.

She dipped her chin to acknowledge him, though the news made her no less cautious as she set a hand on the knob. He tapped his chest and pointed to the door, indicating he’d go in first. She nodded again, twisted the knob and shoved it open.

He went in, leading with his gun, and she spun in behind, each of them checking the room for intruders with military precision. Erik said, “Clear.”

“Clear,” she confirmed. Then she approached the bed. Nauma had been still when they entered, but now her back bowed, and she writhed on the mattress. Her hair and nightgown were sweat-soaked. That sound came again, but from up close, it seemed even more plaintive, rising to a high keening wail that lifted the hairs on the back of Bryn’s neck.

“What’s wrong with her?” Erik stayed near the foot of the bed, looking wary.

“I don’t know.” Bryn leaned closer, reaching out to check her forehead for a fever. “Maybe she’s sick?”

“Can immortals get sick?” he replied dubiously. “I didn’t think so.”

“Well, if you have a better—”

Nauma’s eyes flew open, the brown irises gone an eerie white, and Bryn jerked back a step. The völva’s torso bowed in an unnatural arch, and the lights in the room flared to blinding brightness. It felt as though a vibrating, suffocating power filled the room, like a million bees buzzing in the confined space. Nauma sucked in a breath, and it was as if the entire room drew in air, the curtains flapping wildly in the open windows. “He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Bryn swallowed, her insides twisting tight. She set a tentative hand on the other woman’s forearm. “Nauma, who’s coming?”

She shook her head wildly, those milky eyes locking on Bryn. “Not now, not today. But soon.”

“Who?” Bryn’s fingers tightened on the dagger’s hilt, trying to ground herself in reality. Her heart hammered, and her knees felt like gelatin.

Nauma blinked, and her irises cleared, the static energy in the room faded, and the light bulbs dimmed to normal. “What?”

Swiping a hand across her sweaty forehead, Bryn replied, “You said someone was coming. Not now, but soon. Who is coming?”

“Loki,” Nauma said softly, staring at the ceiling. “I had a vision that he escaped.”

Bile burned Bryn’s throat, the sum of all her nightmares wrapped up in that one sentence. She felt an iron band cinch around her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She gritted out, “In your vision…how did he escape?”

“Not sure.” Nauma grimaced and licked cracked lips. “Someone is helping him. I think. No, I’m sure. Someone is helping him. There’s a plan in motion to deliberately set off the apocalypse.”

Bryn grabbed the glass of water sitting on the nightstand and handed it to Nauma. “The original prophecy says that his daughter, Hel, and the king of the fire giants, Surtr, will be at his side when he escapes.”

“No. I mean, yes. They’re on his side, of course. But there’s more to it.” The völva rubbed her bloodshot eyes, looking as exhausted as a warrior who’d spent three days in endless battle. “There are players who haven’t revealed themselves yet.”

“Traitors?” Erik asked.

“I hope not, but I fear so. My vision didn’t show me that. Just Loki.” She sat up slowly, squinting as if the light hurt her eyes. She scanned the room until her gaze landed on Erik, then she looked at Bryn. “Gods. Does he ever have clothes on?”

He didn’t point out that Bryn was also nude, which she thought showed some serious restraint. He cast Bryn a wry glance. “Since when are Vikings modest?”

“Just put some damn pants on,” Nauma hissed.

His eyebrows lifted, but he inclined his head and disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, presumably to do what she wanted. Bryn snorted. She didn’t think the man had ever moved so quickly to obey her unless it involved doing something dirty in bed. Völva were uncanny like that.

A half-second later, a massive wolf came in the room. She didn’t know which of the other berserkers it was, but it wasn’t Erik. The way the wolf averted his eyes instead of ogle her nudity gave her the big hint about who it was. “Ivar?”

His muzzle dipped in a nod.

The wolf’s fluid, animalistic grace showed no sign of his human handicap. Magic was a funny thing that way.

Bryn wrapped an arm across her breasts, though there was little else she could do to make this grandson-grandmother moment less awkward for him. Frankly, she didn’t care, but she could tell he did. “I take it you heard Nauma too?”

Another nod from the wolf.

The völva cleared her throat. “I was having a vision of Loki’s escape.”

Ivar jerked, every muscle in his body quivering with alertness.

“He hasn’t escaped yet,” she soothed. “But feel free to go check your security camera.”

Ivar grunted, turning away, presumably to do just that.

“I’ll go with him.” Erik appeared as silently as he’d left, set his hand on Ivar’s head, and scrubbed between the wolf’s ears. The man was wearing basketball shorts and a baggy tank top. It looked good on him, the shorts clinging to his groin in very interesting ways. He noticed her attention and winked, a promise in his gaze that made her insides quiver in want. She’d never confess it to him, but he’d done a damn fine job of wringing her out in bed.

“Ivar,” Bryn called, and the wolf glanced over his shoulder. “She said Loki has accomplices. Non-giants. People we might expect on our side.”

“The men here are trustworthy,” Erik said quietly. Ivar made a noise of agreement.

“Maybe.” She didn’t know them well enough to fully concur, but since Erik and Ivar’s asses were on the line here too, they had good reason to be absolutely certain who they could trust. “But what about other berserkers, valkyries, handmaidens, gods or goddesses? Can you vouch for all of them?”

“Point taken, hjartað mitt.”

The two males left, but Bryn stood there with her mouth gaping. Hjartað mitt. My heart. He hadn’t called her that since…before she’d married Gunnar. A hundred lifetimes ago. And she had no idea how she felt about his using the endearment now. As was always the case with him, she was a jumble of confusion. She hated that, but she could admit to herself that maybe she was a little too somber, and he lightened something inside her. But was the end of the world the time to lighten up? Shit looked pretty grave right now.

She snapped her mouth shut, and found Nauma eyeing her speculatively. Bryn gave her a sour look in return. “I really don’t want any prophetic words of wisdom about us.”

“You’re beyond my help anyway.” The völva threw her legs over the side of the bed and rose as slowly and creakily as an ancient woman.

“That’s comforting,” Bryn replied dryly, catching the shorter woman’s arm to steady her.

The two of them shuffled over to the dresser so Nauma could pull out a new nightgown. “You’re a valkyrie, and you trust your fighting ability, you trust your instincts, but you don’t trust your heart, your emotions. You haven’t since the day you found out he betrayed you.”

So much for avoiding words of wisdom, but short of dumping the other woman on the floor, Bryn was stuck. “True enough.”

Nauma straightened and turned to meet her gaze squarely. “For your own sake, you need to learn to forgive yourself for what happened. You’ve accepted that you can’t change the past, and that’s good, but you haven’t forgiven yourself or trusted your emotions enough to love again since then.”

Heat washed up Bryn cheeks in a rare blush. Nauma had pegged that one neatly, hadn’t she? Bryn muttered, “Love isn’t going to stop the apocalypse.”

“Actually, I think it will,” the völva said softly, her eyes flashing milky white for a split-second.

A prickling wave went down Bryn’s spine.

Nauma tugged her arm away and took a few shaky steps toward the door and the bathroom in the hallway. “Think on what I said, shieldmaiden.”

“I will, handmaiden.” Bryn somehow doubted much else would be on her mind for a while. There was no way she’d get any more sleep tonight. Sunrise was only about a half-hour away, so she might as well start the day.

“Good.” The völva nodded. “Now I’m going to wash the sweat off, get some grub, and then go for a morning flight. I haven’t shifted into my dove form in far too long. Want to come?”

“I would, but I have to get down to the stables. The horses don’t like to be kept waiting for their breakfast.” Bryn shook her head with more regret than she’d have ever expected. Maybe she’d never love völva as a breed, but this one didn’t seem too bad. Watching her have a vision gave Bryn a new perspective on Seers. The blue bruises under Nauma’s eyes underscored how much her abilities took out of her—such power wasn’t limitless or without cost.

Bryn went to her room, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs to grab a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. Someone had already made a pot of caffeine, which was nice. Muffin in one hand, mug in the other, she walked past the staircase to Ivar’s room. The door stood open, and she could hear Erik and Ivar talking before she reached the threshold. Every available surface in the room was covered in electronics, and Ivar was back in his human form, typing away at his laptop.

“Loki still tied down?” she asked.

“For now.” Ivar’s voice was an ill-tempered growl.

“Hey.” Erik came over and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. He moved away before she had time to blink in surprise. Warmth suffused her chest, but she squelched the feeling. Erik used his own cup of coffee to gesture upward. “Did she say anything else?”

Bryn shrugged lightly, and kept her tone just as airy. “Apparently, love’s gonna stop the apocalypse. Let’s all hold hands and sing Kumbaya, shall we?”

“Love?” An arrested expression crossed Erik’s face.

“I have work to do.” Because Nauma was right. Bryn didn’t trust her heart, didn’t trust in love, knew how weak and helpless any kind of tender emotion could make a person.

And Erik was the one who’d taught her that awful lesson.

Even if he’d apologized, did that really change anything? Maybe. Maybe not. She wasn’t sure she could trust him any more than she could trust what he made her feel.

* * *

Erik went with her to the barn, figuring he’d rather help her than deal with Ivar in a foul mood. They fed the horses, walked them out to their respective pastures, and then mucked stalls. They worked easily side-by-side, and it took a bit of teasing, but he got her to chat with him. There was wariness and confusion in her eyes when she looked at him, but somewhere in the last twenty-four hours, he’d realized he wanted her trust back. There was a lot of shit they had to hash out between them, reprehensible things they’d done to each other, and yet…he’d decided they’d figure it out. If fate was determined to force them together, they had to find a way to get along outside of the bedroom. They had to face the demons between them. How and when, he didn’t know, but adding the normalcy of working on mundane tasks together couldn’t hurt.

He stepped out of the stall he’d finished cleaning and headed for the last one in the row, setting his pitchfork on top of the wheelbarrow and pushing the load along the cement walkway.

Bryn’s voice came from the stall across the aisle. “If you emigrated to the U.S. a hundred years ago, you have to have been doing something besides being ye olde Norse hero.”

Moving across the stretch of concrete between them, he lounged against the wooden half-door. “I served in both World Wars, bootlegged whiskey in between, then did some time as a cop in New York, New Orleans, and Chicago. Now, though? I’m a scholar of ye olde Norse heroes.”

She glanced over at him, her lips pursing thoughtfully. “I could see that actually. You always were a thinker.”

“It’s from spending my childhood tending sheep.” He shrugged. “Nothing to do but be in your own head.”

“And fuck a farm animal when you got bored.” She smirked.

Assuming an innocent mien, he pressed a palm to his chest. “I swear I was just pushing it over the fence!”

She doubled over in a belly laugh, leaning on the handle of her pitchfork for support. It was unusual for her to let loose like this, and he relished it. After a few minutes she swiped her damp eyes on the shoulder of her T-shirt. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I’ve always said whatever it took to make you laugh.” Not that he’d ever been a clown, but he tried to catch her off-guard with the occasional witty comment. That approach usually worked best with her.

She sobered. “I know. I laugh more around you than anyone else.”

He saluted and spun away to get back to work.

“I’ve cried more because of you than anyone else, too.”

The words were low enough that he wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear them or if she’d been talking to herself. Either way, he winced. He half-turned back to her, but then stilled. What could he say that he hadn’t already said? And hadn’t she also brought him boatloads of agony in his lifetime? He sighed and went into the last stall. The physical labor was good, gave him something to focus on, but didn’t take too much concentration.

The light conversation they’d shared earlier evaporated into silence. What she was thinking, he didn’t know, but his brain still focused on the biggest sticking point he had with her. He could apologize until he was blue in the face, and she’d forgive him or not, but was she equally sorry for the pain she’d caused him? Did she still relish having gotten him murdered? Worse, was she glad she’d killed his young son? Why had she done it? Just to complete her vengeance or something more? She’d spared his daughter with Gudrun—why not slaughter Svanhild too?

He heard Bryn finish and tip a bucket of horse manure into the wheelbarrow. “I’m going to grab a shower. Do you know where the dung heap is to dump this load?”

“Yep.” He didn’t look up, just kept cleaning out the stall.

She hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds. “Okay…see you later.”

“Later.” He was going to need to ask his burning questions, but was now the right time to bring up more personal shit? Or should he wait until everything had blown over?

He hadn’t found an answer by the time he’d gone back into the house, showered, and put on some clean clothes. He was halfway down the stairs when Ivar’s voice echoed through the house. “Everyone, you’re going to want to see this!”

Erik heard the pounding of footsteps on wooden floors as people reacted to the summons. He continued down the steps, Nauma came pelting behind him, and he almost collided with Holm, who was rounding the corner from the kitchen. They jostled for a moment, and Nauma darted past them into the room.

“What’s going on?” she demanded breathlessly.

Ivar glanced at the three of them. “Let’s wait for everyone to—”

“We’re all here, mate.” Val waved Bryn into the room, and they lined up to hear what Ivar had to say.

The tension in the air felt as thick and suffocating as a wet blanket, and Erik could almost imagine each of them both hoping and dreading that the waiting would finally be over.

Ivar pointed to a silenced newsfeed on his laptop. Similar feeds were running on the TV and on two other monitors he’d rigged up. “A sinkhole opened in Illinois around midnight.”

After a short pause, Bryn threw up her hands. “So?”

“It ate the house where I’d last tracked Heimdall. He was having an affair with a human woman.” He tilted his head. “Well, maybe with the woman and her husband, but I didn’t dig too deeply into any possibilities.”

Several of them sucked in a breath at once. Shit. That was bad. There’d been natural disasters popping up all over the world the last decade or so, but he’d never heard of one deliberately targeting an immortal. Since giants were often connected with elements, it made a terrifying kind of sense that they might use that connection as a weapon.

Val asked, “So, Heimdall is…dead? Before the apocalypse started, even though he was supposed to die during the battle of Ragnarök?”

That was the thing about being immortal—it didn’t make you invincible. It also didn’t mean you couldn’t die or be killed. It didn’t mean you couldn’t be permanently disabled, as Ivar demonstrated. The god Tyr got a hand bitten off by a giant wolf, and it hadn’t grown back. Being immortal just meant you’d never die a natural death. So long as nothing bad happened, you’d just keep coasting along forever. But if you lived long enough, something bad was going to happen. Eventually.

Immortality had different effects on different people. Some of them clung to that life with a desperation, a fear that was unlike anything that a human could comprehend. Some immortals had lived so long, they’d gotten bored and almost welcomed death. Then there were ones like Erik—he didn’t fear death, but he didn’t flirt with it either. When it came, it came. He hoped it was a passing that he could be proud of, unlike when he’d shuffled off his mortal coil. Yes, he’d died in battle, and he’d taken the other guy with him, but…it had been a battle instigated by his dishonorable deeds. Not his finest moment.

“Heimdall might be dead. Or he might be just kidnapped.” Ivar looked both helpless and angry at the same time. “I don’t think the sinkhole itself would have killed a god. His mortal lovers, yes—their bodies were dug out by authorities this morning. But who or what was waiting for Heimdall when he crawled out of the hole…”

“Why would anyone kidnap or kill him?” Nauma sat on the arm of the couch. “He was pretty mild-mannered, as gods go.”

“He was supposed to sound the horn to let Valhalla know the apocalypse was upon them,” Bryn noted.

Erik finished that thought. “Someone just took away the gods’ advanced warning system.”

“Yep.” Ivar nodded. “I’m reviewing footage from several news cameras to see if there’s anything useful the humans might have accidentally picked up.” He rubbed bloodshot eyes and sipped his coffee.

“How long have you been at this, mate?” Val set a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“About five hours. Since Erik and Bryn went outside.”

Nauma gave him a no-nonsense look worthy of a kindergarten teacher with a naughty pupil. “Maybe it’s time to take a break.”

“Please, I haven’t even gotten to the part where I mix NoDoz and Red Bull into my coffee yet.” Ivar grinned. “That’s when the party really gets started.”

“That’s so frat boy during finals week of you.” Erik rolled his eyes. “My undergrad students would be so impressed.”

Ivar grunted, his gaze glued to the monitors. The others gathered closer to watch the footage with him. Erik figured it was as good a time as any to get some caffeine for himself. If they’d be settling in for a while, he was going to need it. He left the room, but when he reached the kitchen, he found only dregs in the coffee pot. It took a couple of minutes to have a cupful, and he let the rest of the pot percolate when he returned to the living room.

He rounded the corner and saw Bryn shrug and say, “I’m getting some lunch. If I have to watch boring shit, I’m gonna at least be fed.”

Waving his mug through the air, Ivar said, “I sucked down the last of the coffee pot.”

“I can make more,” she replied.

“Great. Bring me a cup while you’re at it, darlin’,” Holm called, plopping down on a chair. “And I’ll take some of that lunch too.”

Silence fell for a moment. Erik bit back a grin, leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, and prepared to enjoy the show. Nauma arched her eyebrows, Val pinched the bridge of his nose, and Ivar shook his head, disgust on his face.

Bryn smiled, though only a fool would call it a pleasant expression. “Does this look like Valhalla, jackass? No. Which means this valkyrie doesn’t fetch anything for fallen warriors, not beer, not caffeine, not food. You want something, feel free to get off your ass and get it yourself.”

Holm drew back, offense on his face. He glanced around and seemed to realize he didn’t have a scrap of sympathy coming from his comrades. Scowling, he inclined his head. “Noted.”

That acidic smile flashed again. “Good boy.”

“I made a new pot.” Erik handed her his steaming mug. “You need this more than I do, clearly.”

“Good boy,” she purred and sipped the hot, liquid ambrosia.

He offered her a grin that was all kinds of wicked and suggestive. She winked and made sure to brush against him as she passed, sinful promise in her gaze that lured him like a Lorelei. There was no way he wouldn’t follow her anywhere when she looked at him like that. Lust fired through his veins, a visceral reaction to her that would never die. He didn’t want it to.

After she’d left, Holm sighed heavily and glanced at Erik. “Before y’all occupy the kitchen for a different kind of cooking, would you mind leaving some food in the dining room for the rest of us?”

Erik shrugged and turned to go. “I’ll throw out some bread crumbs so you don’t waste away of starvation.”

He heard Bryn snicker and watched her slip into the kitchen. When he pushed through the swinging door, something was already flying at his head. Lightning-fast reflexes meant he caught it before it hit him in the face. A loaf of bread.

“You’re in quite a feisty mood today.” He chucked the bread out onto the dining room table and then turned back to her. “Need some help relaxing?”

Sauntering across the room, a provocative sway to her hips that made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, she shrugged. “After I’ve had some lunch, perhaps.”

Oh, she wanted to tease, did she? The wolf inside him growled appreciatively at the new game. He grinned and felt his fangs scrape his lower lip. She opened a cupboard, and he prowled around the small table in the middle of the room. Her head tilted, bird-like, and he knew she was listening to his approach. A little shiver went through her, and he watched goose bumps break down her arms. He could hear her breathing accelerate, the air was spiced with her arousal, and anticipation punched through him.

Stepping close behind her, he curved his hands around her waist and brushed his lips over the nape of her neck.

“I like that.” Her head bowed further. He nipped at the side of her neck, just grazing that sensitive patch of skin. She shuddered, but then she swallowed hard and a big breath whooshed out of her. “If Heimdall is dead or kidnapped, this is really it, isn’t it? We’re not talking prophecies or visions of what might be, but…”

“Ragnarök,” he finished for her. He pulled her back so they were pressed together, and he held her close.

She stroked her fingers up and down his forearm. “I was hoping Nauma was wrong. Wishful thinking, I know, but I don’t relish what’s coming.”

“Neither do I.” He didn’t mention that their fate—however bad it might be—was still supposed to be better than what lay in store for their compatriots in the living room.

“If this has to be it, then I’d like to go out with a bang.” She rolled her head against his shoulder until her gaze met him, and there was no mistaking the look on her face or the tone of her voice.

“A bang, huh?” He extended his claws, scraping lightly over her midriff. His cock went rigid, and he could smell her desire increasing by the moment. “You want it slow and soft or hard and fast?”

“Hard.” She squirmed against him, rubbing her ass into his groin. “Fast.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Retracting his claws, he wrenched open her pants, shoving his hand in so he could feel that sweet cream. Ah, yes. She was so wet for him. The noises she made, little mewls of pleasure, made lust scorch his insides. His dick pulsed with the need to bury himself within her. He could bring her to climax with his fingers, with his mouth, but he just couldn’t wait. He had to have her, had to feel the slick grip of her tight sheath closing around his cock.

He swung her around until they faced the table, pressed his palm between her shoulder blades, and urged her forward over the flat wooden surface. She wore tall riding boots today, so this was the best position to take her in. Grasping the back of her breeches, he yanked them down to her thighs, baring her to his gaze. Her pussy was drenched, the pale curls darkened with moisture. He had his pants open in seconds, pulling his cock free. He rubbed the head up and down her slit, and she moved restlessly before him.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “This isn’t hard or—”

He pierced her core, gliding in with one swift thrust that sank him to the hilt. But then he stopped, and grinned when she squirmed impatiently. His fingers splayed over the slender curve of her hips, and he drew back a hand to slap one cheek hard. He grinned at the lovely crack of sound. She choked on a breath and shuddered. He did it again, swatting the fleshy part of her thigh, peppering hot little spanks over the globes of her ass.

“Erik!” Her nails turned to raven’s talons and dug furrows into the table, her back bowing as she moaned.

Every time his palm made contact with her backside, her inner muscles clenched around his cock. He couldn’t hold back low groans, doing his best not to get too loud, but he heard the volume on Ivar’s video increase to near-blaring. Erik grinned and shook his head, but didn’t consider for a second that he should stop what he was doing.

“Erik, I…I can’t…”

She tried to straighten, but he set his hands over hers, lacing their fingers together and pinning her to the table. She shivered, but didn’t fight his hold. Instead, she pushed back into him, silently demanding he move now. He nipped at her shoulder, letting his fangs graze her skin. The salty flavor of her burst into his mouth, sinking into his psyche. It was a taste he’d never been able to forget, as familiar as breathing.

He’d dreamed of touching her so many times—even under the control of that fucking elixir, when he didn’t understand why—he’d craved the feel of her skin against his. There was something about her that excited him on a level no other woman in a thousand years had ever managed to replicate. It was just as good now as it was back then. No, better. Because now there was no taboo, no shame—just the two of them glutting themselves on the best fuck of all time.

He pulled his hips away until he almost slipped free of her, then thrust in hard. The slap of their flesh together made him growl in appreciation. The wolf inside him had craved her from the first, had never had the man’s reservations for how they might have torn each other’s souls to pieces. The wolf didn’t care about the past or the future, only the present. Only claiming the mate it wanted. He bit her shoulder again, sinking his fangs deeper into her skin, the tang of her blood rushing over his tongue.

A low cry broke from her, and she shoved back into him faster and faster. He moved with her, driving as deep as he could. Sweat slid down his face, stinging his eyes, but wiping it away would mean letting her arms go and…nope. He liked her right where he had her.

Her pussy flexed around him, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from coming then and there. He ground his pelvis downward, and moans spilled out of her.

“I’m going to come,” she gasped, tugging at her hands. He refused to release her, tightening his grip.

“Yes. Come for me, Bryn.” He pushed himself to greater speeds, hammering into her relentlessly.

Her body bowed upward, and her pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. That was it, his control snapped. He exploded inside her, emptying every ounce of worry and tension into her. Groaning, he pumped into her until his dick began to soften. She relaxed against the table, her cheek pressed to the wood. Her eyes were closed, a tiny smile curving her lips.

It was one of the most perfect, peaceful moments of his life. He realized that he loved her. Still. Again. No other woman had ever fit him as well as her. The timing couldn’t have been worse, and there were so many ugly memories and unanswered questions between them, but he couldn’t deny the truth.

He loved her.

And with the world on the brink of doom, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. There might not be much of a future for them to have, even if they did want to spend it together. But he knew one thing—he would do everything in his power to hold on to her, to this.

* * *

They retrieved the untouched bread from the dining room and made sandwiches for everyone. After they’d disinfected the table, of course. Bryn figured it was only fair, considering the team had kept Holm muzzled while she got busy. That man couldn’t open his mouth without inserting his foot up to his kneecap. For Erik’s sake, she’d stuck to telling him off rather than decking him. Though Holm was no worse than many of the other males she’d dealt with in Valhalla, her tolerance for their he-man shit was at an all-time low. She doubted anyone was going to keep him from making sextastic wisecracks when they returned, but a well-placed comment about him being jealous because he wasn’t getting any and might never again should shut him down.

Her stomach clenched a bit. Ragnarök. Somehow the thought of Heimdall being killed made it all too real. All too immediate.

Despite what the prophecy said, she honestly didn’t expect to see the other side of this. As Nauma had predicted, Loki had accomplices, and it looked like one of them had done Heimdall in. Which meant the ancient Ragnarök prophecy might already be nullified, the deck stacking in favor of the giants instead of the gods. Wherever the rest of the gods were. Maybe they were dead already too.

She had both more and less information than she wanted.

“Come on.” Erik kissed the side of her neck, and warmth pooled in her belly. She still didn’t like this weakness she had for him, but she was starting to get used to it. Whether that was a good thing or not, she hadn’t a single clue.

“I may need my mind taken off this later tonight.” She brought his hand to her mouth, biting the base of his thumb. “Assuming something else doesn’t happen between now and then.”

His eyes burned silver for a moment, and that wicked dimple flashed. “Count on it.”

“Mmm.” She grabbed the tray of sandwiches and left him to bring the heavier tray loaded with glasses full of sweet tea. She’d grown addicted to the stuff since she’d moved to Virginia.

The crowd in her living room fell on the food like ravening beasts, making appreciative noises of gratitude with their mouths full. Vikings were never known for their manners, but they liked their grub.

“You’re looking mellower, love.” Val gave her an easy grin.

She ignored that, gesturing to the many screens playing the news. “Find anything interesting?”

Not looking away from the monitor closest to her, Nauma patted her mouth with a napkin before she answered, “Not ye—wait. Go back.”

Ivar jolted, dropped his sandwich on his plate, and reached out to click a button that stopped the video. “How far?”

“Maybe thirty seconds.” Nauma leaned further forward, squinting. “Can you slow it down to half-speed?”

“Yep.” The video whipped backward, with the people bobbing and weaving in awkward jerks. Then it started again and the people moved as though trapped in molasses.

After about ten seconds she tapped the screen. “There.”

He froze the video and enlarged the image, sending it to the largest of his monitors. The slightly grainy picture showed a nondescript woman with stooped shoulders, a sour expression, and frizzy dishwater blond hair. Ivar glanced back. “You know her?”

Nauma nodded firmly. “She’s a valkyrie.”

“What?” Bryn bent closer to the screen. “I don’t recognize her.”

“It’s a wig.” The other woman tapped a nail against the blond frizz. “Picture her with long, shiny black hair.”

Bryn shut her eyes for a moment, holding the mental image and making the necessary color shift. She looked again. “Kata. The ice-blue eyes give her away.”

“Yep.” The handmaiden grinned in satisfaction, though Bryn noted she had lines of exhaustion bracketing her eyes and mouth.

“Good eye.” As compliments went, it wasn’t much, but Bryn wasn’t accustomed to needing to flatter anyone but her horses. A sugar cube and pat on the rump usually did the trick. Not so much with humans.

“Thank you.” Nauma shrugged demurely. “I had a feeling there was something important on the video, so I paid closer attention.”

“Well, I’m happy about you feeling your feelings.” Holm flashed a charming grin at her, and Val gave him a resentful glare.

She snorted. “Thanks, I think.”

“Frey,” Bryn blurted out, her memories of the other valkyrie finally snapping into place.

“Excuse me?” Erik stirred beside her, his hand coming to rest on her waist.

“Frey,” she repeated. “Kata is banging Freya’s twin brother. Or she was about a hundred years ago.” They’d gone off to some hidden corner of Odin’s hall to fuck and, unfortunately for all of them, that was also the spot Bryn liked to retreat to when she needed a break from the throngs of immortals in Valhalla. She’d beat a hasty retreat, but not before she’d gotten an eyeful of the two of them getting down and very, very dirty. “But…Kata was never the type who slept around, so it probably wasn’t a casual one-time screw. I always got the impression she was a little too controlled for that, you know?”

“Yeah, I remember that about her too.” Nauma worried her thumbnail between her teeth. “She was never one who was rude, didn’t seem to look down on me as a handmaiden or anything, but…she wasn’t warm and fuzzy either.”

“Difficult to get to know, yeah. Not that I tried hard.” Since Bryn wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type either. “I showed up when summoned and then got back to the mortal realm. Not enough time there to make friends.”

“Me too. After the first few centuries, it was just easier to keep my distance.” Nauma leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Quieter, less drama-filled. Freya wanted me more for oracle consultations than handmaiden duties, so…no need to be on site all the time.”

“I hear you.” Bryn hated the drama too, especially right after she’d gotten there, fresh from the drama of Grimhild and Gudrun. There was nothing Bryn had wanted so much as to be alone somewhere and lick her wounds.

“Can we get back to the sinkholes and bad guys? For just a sec, ladies? Hmm?” Ivar’s tone was saccharine enough that Bryn wanted to smack him. He really was in a pisser of a mood today.

“Snide,” Nauma chided.

Bryn widened her eyes in agreement. “Right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kata. Frey. Focus, please.”

She spoke slowly, as if to a toddler. A stupid toddler. “We recognize her face, but don’t know her well. That’s basically what we just said.”

His reply was in the same condescending tone. “You know her well enough to know who she’s sleeping with.”

“That was more me walking into the wrong room at the wrong time. This wasn’t something you could misinterpret either. Like full-frontal fucking.” She made a face as if she’d tasted something nasty. “Never wanted that view of Frey’s junk.”

Nauma stuck out her tongue. “The gods are always less impressive than they like to claim.”

Bryn quirked her eyebrow, but said nothing. Yes, she’d seen a few. Most were no more than average in their endowments. But that wasn’t information she felt the need to share.

Val shot from his seat, rounding on Nauma. “Exactly how many gods have you been ogling?”

“Who said it was just ogling?” She licked her lips suggestively.

His face turned purple, fists clenching, jealousy written plainly on his expression. He turned on a heel and slammed out the door.

“Nice.” Holm looked impressed. “That’s faster than I’ve managed to piss anyone off in a while.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t belong to him—haven’t in a million years. I guarantee he’s fucked everything that walked.”

Ivar winked, ran a hand down his muscular chest, and appeared more chipper than he had all day. “And maybe a few things that don’t.”

“No!” Nauma’s mouth went round with mingled horror and delight. “You and Valbjorn? Really?”

“No, I’m just messing with you.” He grinned like a pirate, and she swatted his arm. After a moment, his face sobered. “I met Val after what happened with you, and I could always tell that…something bad had gone down. Seriously, truly, tragically bad.”

She swallowed, glancing aside. “He never…made any mention of caring about me. It was probably just guilt because some wimpy little princess died saving his skin.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” He flicked dismissive fingers. “I have some research to do to track down Frey and this Kata chick. Go away.”

“With pleasure.” Holm heaved himself out of his chair and sauntered off.

Erik cocked his head to the side. “Someone’s coming up your driveway.”

The distant rumble of a familiar truck reached her ears. She glanced at the clock on the mantel, found it was later than she’d thought. “My stable hands are back. I’ll go talk to them about my…houseguests. And let them know I might be leaving town soon.”

“You can trust them to look after the place?” Erik set a hand on her shoulder, support radiating from the gesture. “I know how much you care for your horseflesh.”

She fought the dual urge to shrug away from him and lean into him. Wow, she really was a hot mess these days. “Yeah, they’re good people. I’ve left them alone here before when I went on buying or selling trips. They’ll take good care of my ponies.”

The truck brakes squeaked, and with the number of extra vehicles parked outside, she knew her guys would want to check in with her first. She headed for the porch and heard Erik and Nauma fall into step behind her. After a second, she heard the whir of Ivar’s wheels rolling over the hardwood floor. Apparently, they were having a welcoming party.

She pushed out the screen door onto the front porch. Holm was lounging on one of the rails, looking like a massive lion sunning himself. There was a sight to greet her farmhands, who were approaching with surprised expressions. She couldn’t say she blamed them—she’d never had a guest here in the five years they’d been working for her.

“Tom, Greg, this is Erik. He’s an old friend. And this is Holm, Ivar, and Nauma. There’s another one around here named Val.” She came down the porch steps to join the farmhands. “Let’s head to my office—I need to discuss a few things with you. You know how you guys have been saying I should get off the farm more often and take a vacation? Well, you’re about to get your wish.”

They eyed the newcomers warily, but since they were both former jockeys, they were about 5’4 and 125 pounds each soaking wet. They had a wiry strength that kept race horses in check, but they were no match for a Viking berserker. The humans might not know exactly what they were dealing with, but they could see when a guy moved like he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

Then again, she moved that way too, didn’t she?

She waved her employees towards the barn. “Come on.”

Now she just had to invent explanations the mortals would believe. Shouldn’t be too hard. She’d been lying about this kind of stuff for millennia.

6

After dinner that evening, Bryn helped her guys settle the horses for the night. They walked back across the gravel drive together, she waved them off to their cottage, and loped up her front steps. There was no sign of anyone else, so she headed for the living room. Maybe Ivar had managed to hack some international database and locate Kata. If she was even living on Earth. If she’d remained up in Asgard, Frey could take her back and forth at will. That would hose any chance of finding her.

Bryn rubbed at her temples, trying to ward off the headache that wanted to form. If the tension got to her, the horses and mortals on this farm would notice. That would make working difficult, and it wouldn’t help her stress level. She blew out a breath, tossed her braid over her shoulder, and strode into the living room.

Only Ivar sat there, scowling at his computer screen. No need to poke the angry wolf, so she tried to back out quietly.

His silver eyes—Erik’s eyes—flicked to her, pinning her in place. He sat back in his chair. “Since we met, you rarely look me in the eyes, and you always make a run for it as soon as humanly possible. Is it the wheelchair that bothers you, or just me?”

Straightening her shoulders like a soldier under review, she met his gaze squarely. As uncomfortable as the question might be, she didn’t even consider not answering it. “Neither, really. It’s that you remind me of things I’d rather not think about.” Like another pair of silver eyes that had once gazed at her with helpless dismay, pain and terror mingling on that sweet little face. She shook the awful memory away. When Ivar appeared ready to question her on that topic, she went back to his original question. “So…since you brought it up, what’s with the wheelchair?”

“As you saw this morning, when I shift into a wolf, I don’t have any problem walking. Full mobility. A magical benefit of being one of Odin’s chosen, I guess.” He shrugged. “As a human, I was born with a very mild form of osteogenesis imperfecta, aka brittle bone disease. So I can’t use my legs, but otherwise I’m pretty normal. Back in the day, I could use a long bow and designed a kind of chariot-like wagon that let me get in the thick of battles. Viking leaders had to fight—none of this pansy-ass Monday night quarterbacking like they do now.”

“Buncha dickless wonders in charge these days.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I know, right?” He flashed a quick smile, and then patted his wheelchair affectionately. “Technology has come a long way since then. It’s much easier to get around. I do kind of miss being carried on a throne by a legion of minions.”

She stifled a short laugh. “And throngs of slave women to peel you grapes?”

“Good times, good times.” His grin turned wicked, and the look reminded her so much of Erik, she had to look away.

“I should go and—”

Ivar interrupted. “Have you ever talked to him about it?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. It wasn’t as if Erik and her history was some big secret. Misunderstood and misinterpreted maybe, but not a secret. “Some. Not everything. It’d just stir shit up.”

“Or clear the air.”

“Look, I’m not the type who needs to feel her feelings about every damn thing. What happened, happened.” And it would mean confessing her worst sin, baring her soul in a way she never had before. She…didn’t think she could do it. “Nothing can change the past. Let it go.”

“But you haven’t let it go, have you?” Ivar set an elbow on the arm of his chair. “I’d say Erik has done better with that than you.”

“Good for him. It’s not a competition.” Because if it was, she’d have lost. She didn’t need to say so though. The scars on her heart were no one’s business but her own.

“You still love him.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Even after everything that happened. That’s what kills you.”

Yes. The reflexive answer that sprang to her mind rocked her to her core. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. Having someone shove it in her face so blatantly meant she hadn’t had time to form an internal excuse. She tried never to lie to herself, but this truth had the power to rip her to bits so small there’d be no picking up the pieces again. She swallowed hard, clenched her trembling fingers. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You can’t forgive yourself for loving him. Still. Deal with that and maybe Nauma’s prediction will come true. Maybe it’ll save our collective asses. Think about that, all right? It’s not just about you anymore, hiding out alone in bumfuck nowhere.”

Spinning his wheelchair neatly, he rolled out of the living room and down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Pushy bastard, isn’t he?” Erik stepped from behind the wall next to the doorway.

She let out a breath. “How much did you hear?”

“All the parts you wish I hadn’t.”

Well, fuck. She almost wished a sinkhole would open up and swallow her whole. At the moment, it felt like Heimdall had gotten the easy way out.

* * *

Erik wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or punch him. Maybe both. The look on her face was guilt, shame, and anger. Anger at herself or him, he didn’t know. Again, maybe both. He took a deep breath and girded his loins to broach the topic he’d been avoiding since he’d arrived.

“There is one part of the past I haven’t managed to get over, despite what Ivar might think.”

“I’m sure.” Her face went pale, her lips compressing into a tight line.

“You killed my son. Sigmund died at your hand.” There, he’d put it into words. If there was to be any trust between them, any future, they had to excise the wounds they’d inflicted on each other. This one was like a gash that became an infection that spread and spread, but never healed.

She flinched and her expression was utterly devoid of emotion. “So the legends say.”

“Why?” He reached a hand toward her, but she stumbled back to avoid him. That hurt. He forced himself to continue. “I don’t want to hear what other people think your reasoning was—I want to hear it from you. Why? Was it just vengeance? Was it worth it?”

Her dark gaze dropped to the ground. “He would have tried to avenge you when he grew up. That meant my daughter—our daughter—was in danger. He’d unleash his wrath on her.” Her mouth worked. “I couldn’t let that happen. The endless cycle of revenge, the curse of Andvaranaut, had to end with us. With me.”

“So you threw yourself on my funeral pyre, breaking the ring’s curse and ending your own life in the process.” There was more to the story than this. He could tell she lied—or didn’t give him the whole truth. Frustration welled inside him, and he fisted his fingers to keep from shaking her. This would haunt them forever if they let it, didn’t she understand that? Look how long it had haunted them already. Avoidance helped nothing.

Her shoulder twitched in a shrug. “So the legends say.”

“Damn it, Bryn—”

Her head shot up, fire blazing in her gaze. “You lied to me, humiliated me, handed me over to Gunnar like I was…nothing. A whore you could use and discard after you’d fucked her over. So, telling Gunnar what you’d done and letting him assassinate you for betraying us both…yeah, a lot of that was retribution. Don’t expect me to apologize for it either, because I won’t.”

This was territory they’d already gone over, and it was clear she was spoiling for a fight rather than being willing to talk about the day Sigmund and she died. He reined in his temper, and forced his tone to reasonable levels. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to betray you.”

His mildness had the opposite effect he was hoping for. Her gaze sparked with fury and she jammed a fingertip into his chest. “Maybe, but you knew you’d betrayed him when you slept with me and knocked me up.”

Stay calm, Erik. Stay calm. He drew in a slow breath, let it ease out. “I didn’t know Aslaug was my daughter. How could I? There were no DNA tests back then, and she looked exactly like you.”

“You never bothered to ask after Grimhild’s elixirs wore off,” she fired back. “With the timing of Aslaug’s birth you had to know it was possible you fathered her.”

He shook his head. “Denial. I told myself she had to be Gunnar’s. Not until I met Ivar did I accept the rumor that Aslaug was mine.”

“Your delusions aren’t my fault or my problem.” She spun on a heel and made to exit the room.

He caught her arm before she could pass, knowing his grip was bruising and not caring. “It wasn’t either of my daughters I asked about—they both got to grow up and have kids of their own. It was my son I wanted to know what happened to. You’re not telling me everything, Bryn. Stop feeding me half-truths.”

“I killed your son.” She lifted one knee and yanked a knife out of her boot, the lamplight gleaming off its wicked edge. She waved it in his face. “This was the blade I used to slit his throat. Then I set his body on fire. Isn’t that enough detail for you? What kind of sick fuck wants a blow-by-blow of how his baby was murdered?”

Erik staggered back in shock, not even resisting when she ripped her arm out of his grasp and bolted up the stairs. He heard her bedroom door slam in the distance, and then the rattle of pipes as she turned on the water for a shower. Still he stood there, staring into space, unable to fit what he knew of Bryn together with a woman who would butcher a helpless innocent. She had loved his boy; everyone at court knew it. They called him her skuggi, her shadow, because when Erik was away fighting, Sigmund followed Bryn around like an adoring puppy. Even when she’d seethed with rage at the rest of royal family, she’d never taken it out on any of the children.

She hadn’t done it. No matter what she said, Erik didn’t believe her.

Perhaps it made him a fool, but every single thing within him rejected the idea that the woman he’d held in his arms, who didn’t want the human race to be wiped out, who still cared about the insignificance of a mortal’s birthday—that woman would never have murdered a boy she loved. Because Bryn felt things fiercely and always had. Even here in her isolated retirement, she was fierce in protecting that seclusion. She was intense in her passions, unstinting in her loyalty, and absolutely relentless when crossed. But her sense of justice hadn’t expanded beyond ending Erik or she would have turned her wrath on Gunnar, on Gudrun, on Grimhild. Not on Sigmund, never on Sigmund.

He had doubted before, but no longer. Whatever had happened, it had been distorted. Whatever had happened, she was letting him—letting everyone—believe the worst of her. He needed to know why.

Now more than ever, he wanted the truth, even if he had to pry the details out of her.

* * *

During her shower, Bryn managed to slam the door on the memories Erik had tried to tear loose. She locked them away where they belonged—she was good at that. She’d had a lot of practice. She wrapped herself in hard-won calm and could breathe easily again.

Then she scrubbed her bathroom until the porcelain gleamed. When that was done, she attacked her bedroom. She vacuumed, dusted, changed the bedding and took the dirty sheets to the laundry room at the end of the upstairs hall. She pulled a forgotten load out of the dryer and carried it back to her room to fold. Unfortunately, she dropped a sock and managed to kick it under the bed.

“Fuck.”

She knelt down and peered into the gloom. As much as she liked her modern conveniences, the dryer had a damned inconvenient way of eating her favorite socks. If she didn’t retrieve this one, she’d forget it was there and that’d be another pair she couldn’t use. If it weren’t for humans having the same dryer problem, she’d suspect a god of bewitching the machine to play a prank on her.

“What are you doing?”

She jolted in surprise, popping her head up to see Erik standing directly beside her. It was unsettling for several reasons. First, it was odd to know someone could approach so silently even her advanced hearing didn’t catch a whisper of sound. Second, her instincts usually screamed a warning long before anyone was close enough she needed to hear them. Her instincts hadn’t warned her of anything, not so much as a peep that danger was but a handspan away. What message her psyche was trying to convey, she really didn’t want to consider too deeply.

“Not that I’m complaining about the view, but…” His gaze fixed on her ass in her awkwardly bent position.

She cleared her throat and knelt up. “Looking for an errant sock.”

He tugged at a lock of her still-damp hair, then trailed his fingertips down to stroke over that sensitive bit of skin beneath her ear. Tingles shivered down her neck and she shrugged away in reflex, covering up that vulnerable spot.

He was silent for a moment. “Bryn…we should discuss—”

No. Just no. That was the last thing she wanted to do, discuss anything. Time to evade and distract. Going for the one thing that had never failed them, she reached up and boldly cupped his cock through his jeans. His breath choked off, his gray eyes going wide in shock. But his erection thickened and strained against his zipper, and she rubbed a thumb over the bulbous crest.

His throat worked. “Bryn…”

“Mmm?” She flicked open the tab on his pants, easing down the zipper. Hooking her fingers in his belt loops, she pulled his jeans down around his ankles. The fabric was tight enough that it dragged his boxers down too. His dick popped free, curving in an arc to dance just below his navel. She blew a cool stream of air over his pulsing shaft, and a bead of precum slipped downward.

His hands knotted into fists at his sides, but he did nothing to stop her. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk—”

“Erik, I don’t really have any interest in talking. At all. I have other activities in mind.” And then she took his cock in her mouth, all the way down until the head nudged the back of her throat.

His hoarse groan echoed in the bedroom. She formed her fingers in a ring around his erection, stroking him as she licked and sucked the head. The sounds he made were of ecstatic desperation, and they lit a fire deep within her. She’d started this as a way to sidetrack him, but his pleasure became hers. Her sex grew slick with juices, her breasts heavy and her nipples impossibly tight. Shivers of lust ran through her and every time she sucked him, her pussy contracted. She braced her free hand against his thigh, not wanting to stop, but needing the support as tremors ran through her legs.

“Fuck. That feels…Bryn, I…shit, I can’t…gods.”

Humming deep in her throat made him inhale sharply, and she knew the noise vibrated along his dick. She continued to work him with her hand and her mouth, keeping the rhythm fast enough to bring him right to the edge, but not so fast he could go over unless she wanted him to.

Then a sprite of impishness sparked through her. Slipping her hand up his thigh, she massaged the soft sac between his legs. That was rewarded with another round of appreciative cursing and gasps of her name. Oh, but she wasn’t done with him yet. She moved to stroke the sensitive strip of skin behind his balls. He seemed to freeze for a moment, then a harsh shudder quaked his body. His hand plunged into her hair, pulling the strands taut. She ignored the pressure on her scalp and instead slipped further back until she circled the pucker of his anus. He widened his stance to give her more access. His breathing became a ragged rasp, small groans breaking free. She pressed one finger into his ass, then two, then three, while his hips bucked, shoving his cock deeper down her throat.

“Please, Bryn! I need…I have to…Bryn, please.”

Oh, she liked that. Him, begging. Wasn’t that just a nice little fantasy come true?

She was relentless and she was damn sure they both enjoyed it thoroughly. She fucked him with her mouth and her fingers, rubbing over that spot she knew would drive him mad with lust. A low shout ripped from him and he climaxed in long jets of come. Shudders wracked him and his hand in her hair yanked painfully tight. His knees buckled and he managed to land in front of her rather than on top of her. His palms set on the floor on either side of her knees. His forehead pressed to her belly, and they were both panting for air. Need still twisted within her, but she let her fingertips drift gently over his shaved head.

“Are you all right, Erik?”

“Yes,” he rasped, another shudder quaking through him. “A moment, please.”

“Take your time.” She patted his shoulder.

A few more seconds, and then he moved with that lightning-fast speed, pulling her into his arms and standing.

“That was amazing, sweetheart. I think I should return the favor.”

She arched her eyebrows, managing a sardonic tone, though her hormones were jangling for some relief. “Oral? I thought you did that the first day you got here.”

“Hmm, no.” He set her on the bed. “I meant I should fuck your ass.”

Her breathing shallowed to nothingness, excitement wrenching through her. She loved anal, had since the moment he’d introduced her to the sport. The one night they’d been together so long ago hand redefined wild. “There’s lube in the top drawer of my dresser.”

A rich chuckle issued from him after he’d opened the specified drawer. “That’s not all that’s in here.”

“No,” she agreed, propping herself on her elbows to watch him.

“We shouldn’t let anything this entertaining go to waste.” He pulled out the largest of her vibrating dildos, of course. Nipple clamps came next, and then a tiny spiked pinwheel.

She licked her lips, her heart pounding so loudly the rush of blood roared in her ears. “Most of that hasn’t been touched in quite some time. I typically use those last two items on my lovers, not the other way around.”

“Ah, but you’ve already blown my mind. You should get to lay back, relax, and have fun. What do you think?”

“Okay.” At this point, there could be a gun to her head and she still wouldn’t refuse what he was offering. Her body demanded release. Immediately, if not sooner. “Do you want me face up or face down?”

He considered her for a moment, flicking the pinwheel thoughtfully. “Up. I like to see your face when you come for me.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” She winked and stayed right where she was.

His chuckle was more sinful than dark chocolate. Glancing down, he waggled his eyebrows, and stroked his fingers up and down his renewed erection. “We’re afloat.”

The sight was enough to make her toes curl. His cock was perfect—long, thick, with just enough curve to hit her G-spot when he fucked her pussy. She throbbed with need that wouldn’t quit, her nipples contracting into taut nubs.

His gaze zeroed in on her chest, and his smile promised all kinds of naughtiness. A promise she knew he could fulfill. Two long strides brought him to the bed, and he sat beside her. He lifted the clamps. “These first, I think.”

His fingers curled around one breast, his thumb circling the tip. Impossibly, inevitably, her nipple beaded tighter, the ache between her legs so intense she had to squeeze her thighs together. He applied the first clamp. It bit into her flesh, shooting dual messages of pleasure and pain to her brain. The two sensations twined, became one, and she moaned, letting her head fall back.

“Too tight?”

She swallowed, trying to get her tongue to form words. “No.”

“Good.” Then his mouth closed over her other nipple, suckling the peak. His fingers toyed with the clip on the other breast, and moisture gushed into her pussy. Her arms gave out, and her shoulders collapsed to the mattress. Her nipple popped free of his mouth and he clamped it too.

Her hips bucked, her eyes slid closed, and her hands balled in the sheets. “More. Now.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He pressed a hand between her thighs, spreading her. Cool air rushed against her hot flesh, and she shuddered. A low buzzing drew her attention to the dildo he held. He flashed the kind of grin a marauding Viking would wear on a raid. Teasing her clit with the vibration, he made her cry out. Pleasure jolted through her—almost too much to contain—and her fingers snapped around his wrist, forcing the phallus lower. He pushed it into her pussy in one quick thrust, and she came in a rush that had stars bursting behind her eyes.

“Erik!” Goose bumps exploded over her skin, her sex spasming around the dildo. Her body writhed against the sheets, sweat slipping down her temples. Gods, it felt so good.

“Ah, yeah.” He groaned. “You, looking all flushed and well-fucked, screaming my name. My favorite wet dream just came to life.”

An inelegant, snorting little laugh erupted from her. “Shut up and screw me, Erik.”

“And a giggle, even. The night just gets better and better.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, nipped at her neck, and then flicked a nipple clamp with his tongue.

She could only manage a mewl of pure want, and the dildo still vibrating inside her meant that one orgasm did very little to take the edge off her lust. She was far from satisfied. “More.”

“Insatiable,” he admonished, but spoiled it with a dimpled smile. “I like that in a woman.”

She heard a creaking pop and knew he’d opened the top of the lube bottle. Excitement sent frissons of need coursing through her. Gods, yes. That was exactly what she craved. She eased her legs wider, giving him as much access as he wanted. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and watched him slip his hand between her thighs. He bumped the vibrator, and she stifled a moan as her sex clenched. “Hurry, Erik.”

Two thick fingers pressed to her anus, the lube cool on her intimate flesh. He circled her entrance, then pushed both digits in. He pumped into her, working the lubricant deep. She couldn’t hold back a shivery little moan. This was her favorite sex act, partially because it stripped you down to the raw, feral part of your soul, and partially because it was a little dark and forbidden. The illicitness made it so much better. Her breathing became erratic, her talons ripping through the sheets. He added a third finger to her ass, fucking her with them, but this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted everything he had to give tonight.

“Inside me. Now. Inside me.” She was barely coherent, but somehow he understood her.

“Yes.” He pulled his hand away, lifted her legs to drape her ankles against his shoulder, one arm holding her in place. The head of his cock nudged her ass, and she felt immense pressure as he bore down on her. The angle made it a tight fit as he slid into her one slow inch at a time, stretching her anus. The fact that she already had a thick dildo vibrating in her pussy meant she was almost too full. Almost. She skated along the razor’s edge of agony and ecstasy. Moans broke from her throat, the feeling so damn amazing.

He pulled back until just the bulbous crest of his dick remained within her, then he pushed in, faster than before. Again and again and again. He picked up speed and force, and his pelvis slapped against her ass.

A metallic ping made her look at his hand. He held the small pinwheel aloft. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten this, did you?”

She shook her head. “You assume I’m willing to think about anything but having another orgasm right now.”

That made him laugh. Switching back and forth between legs, he ran the pinwheel up her pinioned thighs, the sides of her knees, her calves, the bottoms of her feet. The prickling tickle made her shriek and jerk against his hold, but he kept her in place, still plunging his dick into the tight ring of her anus.

“No tickling!” It was difficult to assume a threatening expression when a man was fucking your ass, but she managed.

“It’s so tempting to ask or else what, but I have a better idea anyway.” He tossed the pinwheel aside, then reached for the nipple clamps, slipping them off quickly. The sudden end to that pleasure-pain made her eyes pop wide, a new wave of sensation rocking her. He winked, curled his fingers around the dildo, and began pumping it in tandem with his cock. “Time to come, honey.”

It was more than enough to launch her into orbit. Every inner muscle clenched at once, and he gave a choked groan. Her pussy flexed around the dildo, the vibrations just catapulting her higher. He continued to work her with his hand and his cock, dragging out her climax. She felt as if she would detonate like a firecracker, her skin too tight and hot to contain the heat. He pounded into her ruthlessly, and she came again, a harsh cry spilling from her throat. His claws dug into her thigh, his eyes going wolfish as he exploded inside her, hot come filling her.

He collapsed next to her on the mattress, and they both sobbed for breath. Reality faded away for a while, and she drifted in that lovely place where she wasn’t quite asleep and wasn’t quite awake. She was jolted abruptly back to alertness when he opened his mouth and ripped away whatever was left of her shattered defenses.

“I know the timing of this sucks, but there doesn’t seem to be a good time. I need the truth, Bryn. Call me a sick fuck if you want, but I want the blow-by-blow.” He leaned up on an elbow and stared down at her. “I get why you had your revenge on me. I deserved it. But…why would you kill Sigmund, how could you do it?”

She felt as if she’d been punched, crashing hard from such an amazing high. “I already told you this. He would have grown up and tried to avenge you.”

“I don’t buy it.” His gaze went darker than storm clouds, boring into her. “You would never have sat there and coldly thought that someday your little skuggi might possibly turn on the girl he thought was his cousin.”

Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t look away from his demanding gaze. “I killed him. I wasn’t lying, but…it was Grimhild who decided he had to die. Not me.”

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “He was her grandson.”

Maybe he deserved the whole truth. Maybe it would push him out of her life for good, prophecies be damned. The gods knew she’d never been strong enough to resist the pull he had on her. It wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t been strong enough to stop. “She had a vision, that your death would twist his mind. He’d take both his sisters to his bed—Svanhild as his wife, Aslaug as his concubine. The children born of these unions would be hideous monsters that would warp the fabric of human history.”

Air rushed out of his lungs as he pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. Utter rage suffused his face, and his fist slammed against the mattress. “Grimhild.”

“Quite the psychotic bitch, that one. Every power she had, she twisted and abused.”

The rage didn’t lessen, but the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “For her sake, I’m glad she’s dead.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then focused on the ceiling. “I’d help you kill her if she was still around.”

Taking in several slow, deep breaths, Erik finally spat, “Treachery like hers doesn’t inspire the gods to bring her to Valhalla. She’s rotting in Hel’s realm now.”

Turning her head, Bryn looked at him. “That’s the only time I’m ever going to hope a giantess does her worst.”

“Yes.” He was quiet for a moment, though she still felt the heat of his anger. “How did she force you to kill him?”

“That’s where things get…complicated.” She swallowed, wishing she could tell the story without reliving the details of that awful day. “Right before your funeral, she and Gudrun brought Sigmund to my chambers. Grimhild said she’d given him eitr poison, and if I didn’t want him to suffer, I’d—”

He twitched next to her. “It could have been a trick. She could have lied. It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. He started convulsing, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.” She cleared her throat, pushed herself up to sit against the headboard, and clutched a pillow to her chest. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t lay there completely naked while she stripped her soul bare. “Erik, he looked so scared.”

“Bryn…”

She stared down at her lap, her hair falling in front of her face, offering at least a little cover from his penetrating silver gaze. “I didn’t know if I should believe her about her vision, about Sigmund turning into a sick, perverted man, raping his own sisters. But I’d seen what eitr could do, how long a person would linger. It’s a slow, awful death.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “And Gudrun just stood there like a half-wit while her kid cried for help.”

Memories exploded through her mind, as crystal clear as if it had happened yesterday. Bryn remembered how she’d held the little boy close, kissed the top of his head, rocked him and sung to him. Trying to offer what scraps of comfort she could in those final moments while harsh spasms shook his tiny body. Then she’d pulled her sharpest dagger out of her boot, where she always kept it, careful not to let the child see. She’d made it quick, as painless as possible. But his blood was on her hands, just as Grimhild had wanted. No one would care about Bryn’s intentions, nor would they ask if it was a mercy killing.

In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, did it? Bryn had had to live with what happened. Immortality gave no rest and no peace, just a lot of ugly recollections to a keep her up at night.

If she closed her eyes, she could still see the dark red blood pooling on Sigmund’s unnaturally pale skin, still feel the limpness of his body. Her husband’s nephew. Her nephew. If things had gone differently, he might have been her son.

She’d carried him outside to Erik’s funeral pyre, the blood soaking through her clothes, a stain she’d never been able to get out of her soul. She’d been so shell-shocked she hadn’t even been able to shed a single tear. She hadn’t cried since, not once in a thousand years. She had no right to tears after helping slaughter that sweet boy. Her skuggi.

Laying the boy beside his father, she’d stood over them and stared for long minutes. Numbed with grief and rage, she’d seen a flash of sunlight on stones and looked down at the ring on her finger—the cursed ring that had engendered so much greed and suffering—and she’d known a moment of cold, rational understanding. There was only one way to end all of this, to break the curse so it wouldn’t fall on her daughter. A curse like this demanded a blood sacrifice to be broken, scoured clean by pure, purging elements. So she’d stretched out beside the man she’d loved and hated more than life itself, and called up the fire that had once surrounded her castle. She’d given the ultimate sacrifice, hoping her death would please the gods enough to end Andvaranaut’s reign of destruction.

“I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.” Her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, ripping through the silence of her bedroom. She hugged the pillow tighter, wishing it offered even an ounce of solace, but nothing ever did. Nothing ever would. “I wish I could have, but it was already too late by the time they brought him to me. Even knowing that, I still—” She jerked her chin to the side, cutting herself off. It was done and over with. There was nothing she could do about any of it.

Erik’s hand closed over hers, his skin a blistering furnace against her chilled flesh. “I forgive you.”

“What?” She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her. Actually, she might have been less shocked if he had.

He squeezed her fingers. “I forgive you for getting me killed. I forgive you for not being able to save my son.”

Those simple statements rocked her down to the foundation. It couldn’t be that easy. Hadn’t he heard what she’d said? Didn’t he understand what she’d done? “I—”

“Maybe you don’t need or want my forgiveness, but you have it anyway. I just wanted you to know that.” He stroked his thumb back and forth across her knuckles, his expression far kinder than she deserved.

Her throat closed and nothing but a strangled squeak emerged. She’d never realized how much she needed that forgiveness. Or that he was the only one left alive who could give it to her. Yes, she was a shieldmaiden; she was supposed to be fire and brimstone and revenge served on the cutting edge of a sword. At least, that was what she used to think, but time gives maturity and perspective. And guilt could eat away at a person. So could pain.

Erik had abandoned her—perhaps not purposefully, but he had—and then he’d betrayed her. Maybe he hadn’t understood the true depths of his betrayal, but he’d known he was doing something wrong.

None of that absolved her of what she’d done. Or what she hadn’t done.

A single tear tracked down her cheek. “Thank you.”

He hauled her into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. She resisted, but he refused to let go, just crooned soft comfort into her hair. All her pent-up grief came exploding out. The dam burst inside her, and shuddering sobs wracked her body.

“I didn’t want him to die.” The words rose to an agonized cry, a truth she’d never confessed to anyone. Ever. Some people might have congratulated her on killing the boy who would one day harm her child, but she’d never think of it that way. Very un-Viking of her, but she’d have found another way to protect Aslaug. She would never have wished death on Sigmund. “I loved him like he was my own.”

“I know, hjartað mitt.” He stroked her back, his voice rough with emotion. “I know.”

And maybe he did. Maybe this man was the only person who could truly understand.

7

The next morning, Bryn took Rogue out for a joyride. She felt lighter than she had in her entire existence. Which was insane, because as far as she could tell, Earth might be destroyed at any second, and she might very well end up a giant’s sex slave or midnight snack. The future wasn’t looking so rosy, but the guilt that had plagued her for centuries was a little less awful today than it had been the day before.

She’d take it.

So she saddled up her favorite horse and let him do what he loved best—race the wind. Who knew when she’d get to do this again? With Greg and Tom back, her workload was much lower, and she took shameless advantage of being the boss. The guys were happy enough that she’d let them both bail on her at the same time to go see their mom that they didn’t protest. Family was something Bryn had only had for a few short years, so she wanted them to enjoy that precious gift while they still had it.

Generally, she tried to look after the guys who worked for her. Since she didn’t age like a mortal, she couldn’t keep hands for more than a decade or so without it being really obvious that she wasn’t quite human, but she did her best by them for as long as they stayed. Even if she wasn’t all touchy-feely with her people, she did care.

And, when the time came, she would do everything in her power to stop those who wanted to bring on the apocalypse.

But this morning was all about cutting loose and having a bit of fun. She bent over Rogue's neck, stretching with him at each long stride, letting the wind whip past them. The scent of grass and cut hay filled her nose, Rogue's hooves churned up dirt as they pounded along the path. It was freeing, the closest she got to flying in her human form. She felt a grin tug at her lips. She was doing that more often in the last couple of days, and she had Erik to blame. Or thank.

The fence posts whipped past, small white markers that told her how far they'd gone. Miles, almost to the woods at the very edge of her property. She could press further, do a full lap around her farm, but Rogue's breathing had become labored. The horse was game to run, which was what had made him so successful on the track, but she leaned back and began pulling his speed down.

“Good boy!” She patted his neck firmly, while he whuffled a breath. “That’s my good boy.”

A breeze curled around her, and she didn’t know why, but it sent icy fear sleeting down her spine. Rogue shook his head, dancing nervously on his delicate hooves, shimmying his hindquarters in a semicircle. Did he sense something was wrong, or was he just picking up her unease? Shading her eyes, she scanned the area. Was it one of the berserkers in wolf form? That would certainly freak out a horse, and the raven within her wasn’t thrilled about being hunted either.

But that was the feeling. She was being hunted, eyes were on her, staring at her. The intent felt menacing, a threat.

She saw nothing, but she had too much experience to believe that meant there was nothing. Her instincts didn’t play tricks.

Which told her it was definitely not the time to hop off her mount and go check out shadows in the dense woods. Nope, it was time to get the hell out of here. Wheeling Rogue around, she kicked him into a gallop, heading straight for the stables.

She never made it.

A flash of light blinded her. Time stretched, became elastic, and a single heartbeat lasted an eternity. She saw nothing, but her other senses sharpened. Searing agony up her right side, the hot metallic scent of blood, the ear-piercing sound of Rogue’s scream.

Beyond all that, she heard something even more terrifying. Whooping, jackal-like, maniacal laughter. It echoed like a thousand deranged animals cackling in sync.

Oh, shit. She only knew one being who laughed like that.

Loki.

He’d escaped, and now he was here.

It was the last thought she had before unconsciousness sank its vicious claws into her, ripping her into the abyss.

* * *

A sharp gust of wind blew across the stable yard, and an acrid scent hit Erik’s nose. His head came up, his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch the smell. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t immediately place it, just a nagging memory that tugged at the back of his mind. But he had a lot of years of memories to try to filter through. Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was good. A prickle of unease sent urgency coursing through him.

“Val, Holm,” he called. Only a screen door covered the entry to the kitchen, so they could easily hear him, but he was more interested in what they could smell. He wished Ivar were here too, but the man had left at the crack of dawn to track some lead. “Do you know what that scent is?”

Holm poked his head out, sucking in a deep breath. His brows snapped together. “Loki.”

Yes, that was it. Odin had once taken Erik to see the chained giant. They’d kept their distance, but Odin liked to see for himself that Loki stayed put. That trip meant Erik knew the giant’s unique scent. Gods help them all, Loki had escaped.

Someone pushed Holm from behind because he stumbled onto the back porch, and then Val stepped out too.

“Wind’s coming from the southeast.” Val squinted at the serene green fields.

Nauma edged outside behind the guys, concern in her voice. “Isn’t that the direction—”

“Yeah.” The direction Bryn had gone riding. Hours ago. Erik was already moving, heading for Bryn’s beat-up farm truck.

“I have a bad feeling,” Nauma said softly, but his enhanced hearing picked up her words. Val made a harsh noise, and Erik recalled what Nauma’s feelings meant.

His blood went cold, and he started to run.

Ripping open the truck door, he was relieved to see the keys in the ignition. Thank the gods. He fired it up and shoved it into gear. Two jolting thunks, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Val and Holm had hopped in the back.

“Erik!”

Nauma’s shriek snapped his head around. The woman pointed, and Erik saw a cloud of dust coming their way. The pounding of hooves made the air rush from his lungs. Bryn. He sent a grateful prayer up to Odin, sliding out of the truck to meet the horse.

But Bryn wasn’t riding Rogue. Stirrups flapped like wings, and the stallion’s coat was lathered with sweat, foam around his mouth.

Erik held up his hands. “Whoa,” he soothed. “Whoa, boy. It’s all right. Come to me.”

Rogue stumbled to a stop and Erik grabbed the dangling reins. The stallion’s ears flicked, his head bobbing, his hindquarters dancing in a circle. When he swung around, Erik saw a small gash on the horse’s neck, and blood splattered over the saddle and down Rogue’s long leg.

The stink of horse sweat almost covered the truth—most of that blood wasn’t Rogue’s, it was Bryn’s.

He knew. He just knew that whatever they found wasn’t going to be good. He looked at the other men. “You armed?”

Val patted his pockets. “I’ve got all Ivar’s goodies with me.”

“Don’t so much as take a crap without them,” Holm agreed.

“Good.” Erik laid a calming hand on the stallion’s nose. “I think we’ll need them.”

The farmhands came pelting out of the barn. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Rogue came back without Bryn,” Erik replied as calmly as he could, though his fingers trembled and his belly roiled with unease. Something was very, very wrong. But spooking the mortals wouldn’t help the situation. “The horse is injured. Take care of him. We’ll go look for her.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tom said sharply, the same suspicion on his face that he’d worn the night before during their introduction. “Greg can look after Rogue.”

“Fine.” Erik handed the reins over and returned to the truck. “I’m driving.”

Val and Holm clamored into the bed, their backs against the cab. Nauma stood by, fingers balled in her caftan, her features pinched.

Erik met her gaze, conveying a wealth of information without putting it in words. “Would you be useful once we get to the scene?”

She swallowed. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“Hop in.” He held the door open for her.

Sliding to the middle of the bench seat, she folded her hands in her lap. Erik climbed in behind her and lit out of the yard with the kind of gravel-spitting speed reserved for times when someone was shooting at him. Rogue had left a fairly clear trail to follow—kicked-up clods of dirt and the lingering scent of blood.

Within ten minutes, he was pulling to a stop along the path. Val and Holm got out, and Holm went right for the flattened spot of grass Erik had noticed. While the man was terrible with words, he had the kind of tracking ability that was so accurate it was eerie. He wandered the area for a few minutes, his keen gaze taking in everything.

Tom opened his mouth. “What’s he—”

“Quiet,” Erik ordered. “Let him concentrate.”

“This is where she landed.” Holm knelt and skimmed his palm over the crushed grass. “I think she was unconscious by the time she hit the ground.”

“How can you tell?” Tom demanded.

“No signs of struggle.” Holm’s fingers fanned out to encompass the area. “She didn’t try to crawl. No footprints to show her walking or running anywhere.”

Nauma pointed. “Those are footprints.”

“Too big to be hers.” He brushed his hands down his thighs, rising to his feet. “Looking at everything, I think she was hit with something, maybe a bullet, maybe just a thrown rock. Both she and the horse were injured. She fell off—either before or after she passed out—and someone grabbed her and carried her off.”

“It would probably have to be a man, then. It’d take a bodybuilder of a woman to lift Ms. Ravencrest.” The mortal shook his head. “If there were trespassers, she would have called us before she approached them. She always had her cell phone with her when she rode.”

That was when Erik realized he didn’t have his phone with him. He’d left it on the nightstand in Bryn’s room. Shit.

Val slid his hands in his pockets. “Might have been a long-range rifle. Maybe she didn’t approach them. Maybe she never saw it coming.”

Tom strode forward, his gaze on the ground as if he could read the same signs Holm had seen. Pointless. Tracking like that was as much a gift as it was years of training. Holm was the very best.

“More than one person, do you think? Or just Loki?” Erik turned to Holm.

The other berserker considered for a moment. “Loki alone. I think he teleported her or we’d see tracks leading away as well. There’s only the set that approached her after she went down.”

Erik switched his focus to the völva. “Nauma?”

“I’m not getting anything,” she whispered. “Just a very bad feeling. Like…doomsday bad.”

Doomsday. Ragnarök. “Shit.”

Tom came back to the group. “We need to call the police.”

“Right.” Erik nodded. What else could he say? Trying to dissuade the man from alerting the authorities when his boss had gone missing was a good way to make him ask questions that couldn’t be answered. “I don’t have my cell phone with me.”

Holm blinked. “Me neither.”

“Nor me, mate.” Val patted his pockets again.

“I don’t even own a cell phone.” Nauma winced. “Though I’m guessing Ivar’s going to change that when he finds out.”

“No question.” Erik returned to the truck. It was time to call Ivar and see if he had any way of tracking a person that had been teleported.

“I’ll call.” Tom pulled out his phone and dialed. He relayed the pertinent information, and Erik began to pace the length of the pickup. Every little delay to keep up appearances for humans was one more minute where Loki and his allies had Bryn. An unconscious, wounded Bryn.

Unfortunately, Erik had been around long enough to know the possibilities of what they could do to her were as endless as they were horrific. His stomach turned and he had to clench his jaw to keep the wolf inside him from howling with rage, with pain, with the suffering of its mate having been stolen. Every instinct within him screamed to hunt the bastards down and rip their throats out. It took conscious effort to keep his fangs and claws retracted.

The moment Tom had hung up, Erik hopped into the truck. “I’m heading back to the house to wait for the cops. One of us can bring them out here when they arrive. You guys can stay put or come with me, but I’m leaving now.”

His deadly mood must have shown through the veneer of civilized calm because everyone piled in without a word of protest, including good old Tom. At the main compound, Tom went to check on the horse, the other immortals stayed at the truck to talk, but Erik needed a moment alone. He headed into the kitchen and looked around, more lost than he’d ever been in his life. Two days ago, he’d barged into Bryn’s world. They’d made love here on this floor. Last night, he’d thought they’d made a real breakthrough, and there’d been a glimmer of hope, a single glimpse of a second chance for them.

To have it snatched away so soon…gods. Emotion threatened to drown him, but he couldn’t let himself get dragged under now. Bryn was counting on him.

How long had they had her? An hour? More? How long had it taken the horse to get back to the house? Had the stallion taken a direct route or wandered before he’d come back? The scents had been fairly fresh, but that meant within the last few hours.

Hours.

It only took half a second to end a person’s life. The things that could be done in minutes…

A hard hand clamped on his shoulder, solid support from Holm. “I will track these sons of bitches to the end of every realm, if that’s what it takes to find her. This just got personal, and I don’t take that lightly.”

“Thanks, man.” Erik slapped his friend on the back, telling himself to get a grip.

“I hear Ivar’s van. I’ll go meet him in the driveway, get him up to speed quietly, so the humans won’t hear.” Holm gave his shoulder a final squeeze. “Take a minute to pull yourself together, if you need.”

As the other man disappeared, Erik drew in a breath, but it only brought him the scent of Bryn. A red haze filled his vision, the precursor to a berserker’s rage, where man and beast merged into a killing machine. The man held onto control by the thinnest thread. The moment he had a target for his rage, the beast would be unleashed and may the gods have mercy on whoever had taken his mate.

“I get why you keep him around now,” Nauma said, and he glanced up to see her watching him through the screen door. “He came off as a complete jerk at first, but he’s really just…the proverbial bull in a china closet and overly blunt, isn’t he? Sometimes that bluntness is a good thing. Like now.”

Erik had to clear his throat twice before he could get words out. “He’s got his faults, but he’s a good friend.”

“Leave the man in peace for a moment, love.” Val’s hand reached out to tug at Nauma’s elbow, though it was the only part of him that Erik could see from where he stood.

She jerked away. “I am not your love, and I don’t answer to you.”

The woman stomped off, and Erik stepped out on the porch to see Val looking annoyed and frustrated. Erik couldn’t manage a smile, but he offered a commiserating glance. “Women.”

“Can’t kill them, can’t imagine life without them.” Val slung an arm around Erik’s neck. “Come on, mate. Chin up. We’ll get your bird back. And kill the bloody bastards who snatched her. Slow and painful, like in the old days.”

His inner wolf growled in agreement, but the man felt flayed open. If he hadn’t been here, would Loki have taken her? Had he brought this on her by being unable to resist the temptation to see her again?

Ivar fishtailed into the driveway, his van spitting gravel. Within seconds, his chair was bulleting down the ramp, his arms bulging as he controlled the speed of descent. He looked furious. “Why the hell hasn’t anyone been picking up their cell phones?”

Holm was already there, bending to speak to Ivar, and Erik’s sensitive ears picked up Holm’s harsh hiss of, “Loki escaped!”

Ivar drew back, blinked. “I know, that’s why I’ve been calling you. How do you know?”

Erik was across the yard in a few strides, words spilling from his mouth. Anything to speed this up. They needed to do something now. “He took Bryn. I know it was him, that stench is unmistakable. Her horse came back without her, covered in blood, so we went out to track her. The horse’s neck was cut, but some of the blood was hers. She’s injured, but how badly, I'm not sure. He teleported her away, so they could be anywhere now. Earth, Jötunheim, maybe even Asgard if Frey really is involved. There’s no tracking them to other realms since we can’t get there. Only gods and giants can jump between realms.”

“You’re assuming they didn’t come back to Earth. If they did, their asses are mine.” Reaching back, Ivar grabbed a laptop out of the backpack slung across the back of his chair.

Val appeared at Erik’s elbow. “What do you mean?”

Tapping furiously at his keyboard, Ivar didn’t bother glancing up. “I put a tracking device in all of Bryn’s boots.”

Disbelief expanded inside Erik, both at Ivar’s audacity as well as a small bloom of fragile hope that Bryn might be found so easily. “You—”

“Yes, there’s one in yours too.” Ivar waved one hand. “All of yours. No, I’m not sorry if it invades your privacy.”

“Just tell me where she is,” Erik demanded.

“Gladly.” There was a short pause, then Ivar sighed. “You’re not going to like it though.”

“Why?” It was all Erik could do not to snatch Ivar up by his shirtfront and shake the information from him. “Tell me, damn it.”

Ivar’s expression flashed from frustration to helplessness to grief. “Because gods and giants can zap up and down anywhere on Earth they want. We can’t.”

Oh, gods. “Where are they?”

“Still in the U.S., but in the middle of fucking nowhere. Even if we hijack a plane to get as close as we can, it’ll take another day to get there.” Ivar slammed a fist against his chair. “Assuming they don’t move her.”

“Maybe I can help,” a mellifluous female voice called.

They turned as a unit. Erik already had his gun out.

“Sif,” Ivar rasped, incredulity coloring his tone.

She inclined her head. Her wheat-gold hair fell in shining waves to her waist, but her famed beauty was marred by the lines of stress at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was dressed as a regular woman—sneakers, jeans, and T-shirt. “I can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Why should we trust you? How did you even know to come to us?” Holm voiced the same questions racing through Erik’s mind. “You’re a goddess, and we know Frey’s in league with the giants.”

Actually, they didn’t know it, they just strongly suspected it, but Holm said it like it was hard fact.

A smile twitched across her face. “Isn’t it obvious? Sure, all the prophecies talk about the heroic battle and deaths of specific gods, including my husband, but do you think the men are the only ones who will perish? No. I’m fundamentally connected to earth. If it’s destroyed by fire and water, what do you think will happen to me? I die too.” She tugged at the hem of her very modern top. “What do they call it nowadays? Ah, yes. I’ll be a…civilian casualty of this war. It helps me to help you.”

Nauma stepped forward and bowed. “We thank you for your offer. We’re grateful for the assistance.”

The golden earth goddess looked mildly amused. “So you’ve Seen that I won’t betray you, völva?”

“Yes.” Nauma beckoned to the men. “You should get going. Now.”

Sif held out her hands. “Just tell me where. I know every centimeter of this realm—I can get us there without going to Asgard first.” She glanced at Holm. “And to answer your other question, I didn’t know to come to you. Loki came to you, and I followed him. I felt him defile the earth by setting foot off that mountain we had him chained to, and I wanted to know why he came to this tiny corner of the world before he returned to Jötunheim.”

If Bryn was somewhere in the U.S. and Loki was in Jötunheim, then who had Bryn? Frey, or some other ally of Loki’s? There was only one way to find out.

“We’ll take the transportation offer.” Erik stepped forward and clasped Sif’s forearm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” She shook her head. “It’s mostly self-serving—I won’t lie. Thor and I will live or die based on what happens now. I’d rather we live.”

“Understood.” Ivar reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box. He flicked it open and held it out to the team. “Comm units. They’ll work anywhere on the planet.”

Val, Holm, Erik, and Nauma each took one tiny earbud, and Ivar slipped another into his ear.

With a quick jerk of his chin, Erik summoned his men, and Val and Holm formed a small circle with him and Sif.

“Longitude and latitude coordinates work for you?” Ivar gave her a smile that was so bright with relief and gratitude it hurt Erik to look at him. He wasn’t sure there was much to be grateful for yet. He needed Bryn in his arms, alive and in one piece, before he’d feel anything except sick with rage.

The goddess nodded. “Coordinates are fine.”

Ivar rattled off a string of numbers and directions that meant little to Erik, but he felt heat and magic surge up his arm from Sif. Then it felt as if he’d been jerked forward into utter darkness, a cool breeze brushed his skin, and finally brilliant, blinding light exploded before his eyes. He blinked to bring the world into focus, flinching from the glare of sunshine, and saw they were in the middle of a rocky desert, a compound of old Quonset huts before them.

“Looks abandoned,” Val said quietly.

Ivar’s voice sounded in Erik’s ear. “It was, until recently. An old research facility they haven’t used since they stopped testing nukes on U.S. soil. You’re in Nevada.”

“Which one is Bryn in?” The howl of hot, sandy air stung his nostrils and ears, rendering his enhanced scent and hearing useless.

A moment of static and then Ivar spoke. “Her shoe’s currently in the third hut from the right, second row in. Hopefully, she’s still wearing it.”

As if Erik had needed that reminder. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’ll be going now.” Sif flipped something coin-like through the air, and Erik’s hand snapped out to catch the spinning disc. A small rune stone carved with the symbol for rowan—the tree associated with Sif. “You can use this to call me if you need me, but I’m no use in a fight, as my husband has pointed out many times.”

“Thank y—”

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. A battle cry, thank all the gods. Bryn was alive and awake and able to fight.

Erik spun toward the noise as the goddess disappeared with a whoosh of displaced air.

8

Bryn pried her eyes open during teleportation, though her entire body throbbed as if she’d been beaten with a baseball bat. She was wrapped in something—a blanket? Too tight to really move, but the end of the cloth flapped around her head, enough so that she could peek out at her surroundings without giving away that she was awake. They went to Jötunheim first—she recognized the symbols carved into the walls of the giant king’s great hall. They walked a long way with her bobbing against Loki’s back, and it was all she could do not to vomit. She heard the rush of water—a river? She never found out for sure because he shoved her into the arms of another man. Then another teleportation to a place so hot she felt her mouth dry in seconds. Were they in the land of the fire giants? The dark flames they wielded made her little fire-conjuring spells of old seem like child’s play. Her heart hammered, fear coating her tongue. The fire giants were some of the most vicious, with an insatiable appetite for human flesh. No wonder they were helping Loki jump-start Ragnarök. Earth would become their buffet.

She was dumped headfirst onto the floor and got a mouthful of dirt. A reflexive cough erupted from her, no matter how she tried to repress it.

“Ah, she’s coming to. Good.”

The baritone voice was smooth and pleasantly well-modulated. She knew that voice.

“Frey,” she hissed. This was one of the few times she was sorry to be right.

Someone jerked the end of the blanket, and Bryn went rolling until she slammed hard into a wall. She got her hands up in time to cover her head, but the impact made the breath wheeze out of her lungs. Refusing to give in to the dazed shock, she rocked up on her hands and knees, spitting the grime out of her mouth.

She forced herself to her feet, though icy tingles shot up her legs from having been in a cramped position so long. Bracing herself against the wall, she took stock. Her head hurt from whatever Loki had hit her with, and she could feel dried blood crusting her left eyebrow. The room swayed before her, nausea gripping her gut. She blinked hard, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“Head hurting?” Frey asked solicitously. He’d always been well-liked, seen as one of the more amiable gods. There was something…off…about him now, a gleam in his gaze that reminded her of a rabid animal. Dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

She licked dry lips. “You helped Loki get loose.”

“Very astute.” His smile was so genial it made her skin crawl. She glanced around the room. It was more of a bunker than a room, a long space with corrugated metal walls that curved up into a rounded ceiling. It stank of age and ill-use. The floor wasn’t actually dirt, but was coated in over an inch of filth and sandy soil.

Some kind of old military facility? It looked like something from the Cold War-era. They definitely weren’t in the land of fire giants, but that didn’t tell her where they were. She saw a few swarthy-skinned fire giants speaking to an icy pale frost giant at the far end of the bunker. They’d shifted sizes down so they looked like basketball player-sized humans, but she knew them for what they were. Plus, the frost giant had two heads.

A few facts about Frey clicked into place, especially his unusual marriage. She returned her focus to him. “Your giantess wife flipped you to the jötunn side.”

That cheerful grin turned wicked. “She can be very persuasive.”

She nodded as if that made perfect sense. In a way, it did. Of course he’d have been susceptible to his wife’s influence. The fact that he was mild-mannered and Freya’s twin brother had probably made other gods turn a blind eye to his obvious vulnerability. “So why kidnap me? I’ve had nothing to do with Asgard politics in centuries.”

“You think this is just about politics? Perhaps you’re not that astute, after all.” That maniacal gleam entered his gaze again, more intense this time. “I took you because of him.”

“Erik?” She shook her head, and that was the wrong thing to do because her skull gave a sickening throb. “Until two days ago, I hadn’t had any involvement with him since the day he died and ascended to Valhalla.”

“Ah, the World’s Chosen. The prophecy always seems to focus on him, but it’s going to be very hard to repopulate the planet without his woman, won’t it?” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “I’m sure you’ll be very entertaining before I feed you to my new friends. Valkyries are always fun. Such fighters—it’s delicious. I’ve had several of them lately.”

The way his gaze raked over her body left her with no illusions about what he intended. Her gorge rose, memories flashing of battles where men had raped and pillaged their way through villages. Women sold as sex slaves, whored out to whomever paid their masters the most silver. She’d witnessed it, helped those she could, but there was only so much she could do about an entire culture. Contemporary times were much kinder to her gender.

Frey, however, was not from contemporary times. And kindness wasn’t what he had in mind.

A door opened near the giants, letting in a shaft of piercing light and whipping wind. Kata stepped inside. One of the giants grunted and reached out to touch her. She went for the knife strapped to her belt, but Frey called, “Leave her be, Surtr. Kata, come here.”

Surtr. The king of the fire giants. Shit. The jötunn grunted, his gaze following Kata as she walked down the long bunker. When she reached them, Surtr turned his gaze on Bryn. His thick lips peeled back in a grotesque smile that promised an experience night terrors were made of. Her heart pounded with sickening dread. She was alone, unarmed, and outnumbered five-to-one by beings more powerful than her. Only Kata would offer an even fight, and Bryn doubted Frey would let her tear his little pet apart.

She gave the other valkyrie a look of pure disgust.

“Traitor,” she hissed. “You’re supposed to be my sister, supposed to fight with me. If he’s had several valkyries lately, then you’ve betrayed us all. I hope this is worth it, knowing what will happen when Odin and Freya get hold of you.”

Kata went deathly pale, but her chin rose. “There are more forces at play than you know.”

“Every backstabbing bitch has an excuse.” Bryn watched Frey take a menacing step toward her, his genial expression dropping to reveal a look that would freeze the blood.

Guilt and shame shone in Kata’s brilliant blue eyes. “You, of all people, should know that nothing is ever as black and white as it looks on the outside.”

True, but Bryn didn’t give a damn at the moment. She saw no reason to be fair when she was about to become a meal. “Yeah, and those shades of gray will haunt you for all eternity. Been there, done that. What he wants to do to me is gonna keep you up at night. Have fun with that.”

Kata actually heaved as if she was going to puke, but then she squared her shoulders. “May I go now, Frey?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Bryn taunted. Because, hey, what more did she have to lose? Playing on the other valkyrie’s obvious remorse couldn’t hurt. It at least delayed the inevitable. “Running away like the coward slut you are is going to make it all better. If you don’t have to watch what your treachery unleashes, it won’t give you nightmares.”

“Shut your mouth!” Frey swung out to backhand her, but Bryn managed to sidestep the blow.

Fury lit his gaze, and he launched himself at her.

He was a god, and he had backup, which meant her chances of survival were slim to none. Her chances of victory were nonexistent, but if she was going to go down, she was going down fighting. Maybe that gave him what he wanted, the sick fuck, but she could do nothing else. She was a valkyrie and it wasn’t in her nature to stand there and take it. This asshole wanted to murder her just so he could screw up some ancient prophecy. Well, she hadn’t asked to be part of any prophecy, so fuck that.

He caught her around the waist and dragged her to the floor. Instead of resisting, she went with the momentum, using it to hit the ground at a roll. She managed to get out from under him and crawled away. He caught her ankle, trying to yank her back. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she slammed her heel into his nose.

It gave a very satisfying snap and blood poured down his face. He screamed, his hand loosening and she got her feet under her, scurrying away, deeper into the bunker. Her gaze shot around, trying to find another exit. A window, a skylight, anything.

All she found was old office furniture, coated in grime. She had only a few seconds before the god caught up with her. He moved almost soundlessly, but the busted nose meant she could hear the wheeze of his breathing. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and the sensation of being hunted sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. Fight or flight. The raven in her voted flight, but she resisted the urge to shift. Being a bird would let her fly, but it also meant she couldn’t fight. She needed an exit strategy first or she’d just be flapping around in a dingy cage. She reached the end of the bunker. No escape, but she found the next best thing: a weapon. An old chair with a leg broken off. She picked up the leg to use as a club, already swinging it as she turned.

With a deep-throated battle cry, she connected hard with his stomach, doubling him over. She brought the metal bar down on his back and he hit his knees.

A ball of ice slammed into her, knocking her back into a filing cabinet. Her head connected hard, and stars burst before her eyes. Long enough for the frost giant to be on her. He rammed both fists into her sides, crushing her between them, and she felt ribs give way. Grabbing the front of her shirt, he lifted her with one arm until she was level with both of his heads. She kicked and punched, but only managed glancing blows. He pulled her in close, and she gouged her thumb into one of his eyes. He bellowed, the sound half-rage and half-pain.

He flipped her over his head, launching her across the bunker. She hit a heavy metal desk, her leg twisting badly beneath her, and her ankle snapped. The air rushed out of her lungs so that her scream emerged a soundless gasp. She tried to roll away from the desk, but massive hands pinned her. Two albino-pale heads stared at her upside down, both mouths smiling in obscene delight. He bent and bit her collarbones, cracking them like twigs, and tearing into her flesh. A shriek of sheer agony ripped from her.

“Enough of that! She’s mine first!” The giant was wrenched away, and Frey stood over her.

He spun her around, shoving her legs apart and ripping at her clothes. She struggled, slicing at him with her talons, though moving her arms at all was excruciating and her energy levels were in the toilet. Fear and pure adrenaline kept her fighting. She slammed the heel of her unbroken leg into Frey’s thigh, but missed his groin.

Shit.

“I hear something!” Kata’s shout echoed through the bunker. “Frey, someone’s outside.”

Two small, percussive booms rocked the building, and Bryn curled in on herself, arms thrown over her head. Acrid smoke hit her nose. The grinding squeal of metal rending pierced her ears, and then she heard nothing but a high-pitched whine. She shook her head, trying to clear the noise so she could hear what was going on. Sunlight poured into the space, scouring wind and sand whipping into her eyes. People seemed to be scrambling in every direction, some pouring in, others fighting them off.

The first sound that came through was Holm’s roar. His battle-axe gleamed as it swung at a fire giant. She’d never been so happy to see that pain-in-the-ass berserker before.

The cavalry had arrived.

Unfortunately, as she lay there bleeding and broken, she thought they might be too late to save her. But maybe they could stop the traitors from ending the world. She could hope for that because she had no hope left for herself. The injuries were catastrophic. It felt as if half of her ribcage had caved in, and she struggled to breathe.

Frey balled his hand in the front of her shirt and lifted her bodily, using her as a shield as Erik pelted toward them, sword in one hand, chain in the other.

“Kata! Come to me now or you know what happens!” Frey shouted, the threat in his tone unmistakable, and Bryn managed to turn her head to look.

“Coming,” the other valkyrie rasped. She picked herself up off the ground, blood pouring down her arm, a piece of the metal wall protruding from her shoulder. She was white-faced and wide-eyed with terror. Whatever “what happens” was had scared the living shit out of her.

When Kata raised her palms, magic tingled over Bryn’s skin. That was when she realized why Frey had brought Kata along for this ride and hadn’t turned her over to his giant friends. Because, as a valkyrie, she could decide the outcome of fights between warriors.

If she was around, she could make Frey the winner in all of his battles. Including the one with Erik.

* * *

Holm had had C-4 in his pocket. How he got it or why he had it, Erik didn’t care. The other man had managed to blow a couple of neat holes in the side of the Quonset hut, which meant they could get in without using the door and without risking injury to Bryn.

His first look at her made his stomach sour. Frey had his hand around her neck, hiding behind her like a gutless coward. Her face was contorted with anger, but she was covered with dark crimson. The way she held herself told him how badly she was injured. She needed medical attention, right now.

Fuck. Fuck.

Tension vibrated through every inch of him, his hackles rising as he locked gazes with Frey. He was going to rip the motherfucker limb from limb. He didn’t give a shit if Frey was a god. Bloodlust rose high and hot within Erik, the berserker’s rage merging man and beast until there was one focus, one purpose. Dealing death to his enemy.

The asshole actually smiled at him. “Erik. I knew you’d come, but you were faster than I expected.”

“I had help.” He flexed his hands around the hilts of his chain-swords. He couldn’t attack while Frey had Bryn in a chokehold. “I’ve got friends in high places.”

Something odd flashed through the god’s eyes, gone too fast to name. “Odin?”

Erik just bared his fangs. If Frey didn’t know where Odin was, then that meant Odin might not be dead yet. Erik saw no need to give away the fact that he had no idea where their ruler was either.

A sneer formed on Frey’s face. “Odin’s favorite child, always the one called first, always asked for advice, even though you’re not a god.”

Erik snorted. “You’re jealous. Of me.”

“The one who gets to survive? To repopulate the planet, remake an entire race in your image?” The glitter in Frey’s eyes was eerie. The god was unhinged. His grip tightened on Bryn’s throat, and she gurgled, her fingers locking around his wrist. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Time to distract him before he snapped her neck right before Erik’s eyes. Fear slicked his gut, cold sweat breaking out on his skin. “I didn’t ask to fulfill the World’s Chosen prophecy. I didn’t even know about it, and I had no idea I had a few molecules of Odin’s blood in my lineage.”

“Poor, perfect boy.” Frey tsked in mock sympathy.

“Hardly perfect,” Erik replied as reasonably as he could. “Bryn could tell you all about how dishonorable I can really be.”

“Dishonorable, and yet you were favored above others far superior to you. That should never have happened.”

Holm went tumbling past, wrestling with a two-headed frost jötunn. Erik saw Val shoot another giant at point-blank range. The giant went down with a resounding crash. Well, that was one less worry. Erik refocused on Frey. “Why are you doing this? Just to try and save your own skin in Ragnarök? Or because you want to be the most powerful god left standing, the new king of the gods, instead of one of Odin and Freya’s sons?”

“It’s been eons since that prophecy was laid out. Gives a man time to think.” He fondled Bryn’s breast, and it took every ounce of Erik’s control not to leap at him. The god continued as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. “I could unite giants and gods. My children have both bloodlines, all the power of our combined races.”

“Right.” Erik sidled to the side, trying to get a better angle on the god so if he launched a sword, it wouldn’t hit Bryn.

Frey’s gaze sharpened, and he shifted to keep her firmly between them. “Jötunheim is behind Gerda and me.”

Asgard wouldn’t be, but Erik didn’t say that. “Why involve Bryn? She’s got nothing to do with any of this. She’s not supposed to be involved in Ragnarök. The final battle prophecy doesn’t even mention her.”

“True, but it occurs to me that if you don’t have this sweet piece of tail…” Frey slid his tongue along her neck, leaving a gleaming line of spittle. Fury flashed in Bryn’s midnight gaze. “Ah, I can see why you’ve never been able to resist her. She’s delicious.” He ground himself into her ass, his fingers tightening around her throat again. Her nails dug into his hand until bloody weals were left behind, but Frey didn’t seem to notice. “Where was I? Yes. If you don’t have her, it doesn’t matter if you survive the final battle. There’s no repopulating the world. Kill her and I’ll take your precious future with me, Chosen One. I will rip the heart out of you, and I don’t even have to touch you. It’s perfect.”

It was perfect, revenge for a crime Erik hadn’t even committed, and he wanted to vomit. He’d never imagined so much hate was festering inside of the jovial god. He could understand not wanting to die, could see how that prophecy had hung over Frey’s head for ages, but blaming Erik for not being slated for death was madness.

The worst realization was that the apocalypse was being instigated by something as stupid and juvenile as envy.

Maybe an equal measure of pettiness would spare Bryn. Erik shrugged casually. “So kill her. It looks like the prophecy is changing with you switching sides anyway, so I’m sure fate will provide me with someone else to help repopulate the world. I haven’t given a shit about Bryn since I found out she murdered my son.” Her head came up, and what little blood remained in her face drained away. She couldn’t believe that line of shit, could she? He forced his attention back to Frey. Get her out of this and explain later, Erik. “I didn’t even go near the bitch until two days ago, and only because a völva told me to.”

That truth seemed to catch his attention, and Frey blinked. “You came after her now.”

Erik snorted. “I came after you, the bottom-feeding traitor, the wannabe-jötunn so scared to die he’s willing to sell out his entire race.” Frey’s face flushed purple with rage, veins bulging in his neck. Erik flashed a befanged, challenging smile and held out his sword, using it to beckon the god to fight. “Come on, coward. Let’s see who survives Ragnarök. Or are you afraid of taking on a mere berserker? As you said, I’m not even a god.”

Frey hesitated, and Erik feared he’d refuse the challenge. Or kill Bryn first, just for sport.

“Hey, Erik?” Bryn spoke for the first time, her voice a mere croak.

He didn’t look at her, kept his gaze locked on his prey. “Yeah?”

“I forgive you. For everything.”

Every inch of his body froze in response to her words, and he did look at her then. She met his gaze, winked, and then went utterly limp. She caught Frey off-guard and slipped through his arms to hit the ground on her side. A strangled, pained cry burst from her, and it made Erik’s heart seize, but he reacted as he knew she’d want him to. He hurtled himself forward and slammed the god back, tumbling him through the opening they’d blasted through the side of the building, carrying them both away from Bryn.

He hoped she would be safe, but the thought was fleeting. He had to give all his attention to Frey. If Erik lost, he didn’t want to consider what would happen to Bryn. He’d be kicking his own ass for all eternity if he failed her now. Again.

The impact as they hit the ground was bone-jarring, but Erik came out on top and sliced his chain across Frey’s face. His cheek sliced open, the flesh peeling back to reveal the god’s teeth and jawbone. He screamed, slammed a fist into Erik’s chest and bucked hard enough to send Erik flying. He landed against the outer wall of the Quonset hut, a shard of metal slicing into his back as he slid to the sand and hit his knees.

The roar of rage as Frey came off the ground was chilling, and he grabbed Erik’s wrist to try to get the chain away. While Erik had superhuman strength, he was no match for a god in sheer power. The choice was lose the chain or get his arm broken, so he let go, but rammed the hilt of his sword into the god’s temple. Frey rocked back for a moment, giving Erik the chance to spring to his feet and put some distance between them.

He heard the battle cries and the sound of skin hitting skin. He didn’t have to look to know his team was still fighting, so that was good news. This day could use some good news. The valkyrie Nauma and Bryn had identified on the newsfeed slithered out of the Quonset hut, her eyes on Frey and him. She didn’t try to interfere, just watched, but he’d have to keep an eye on her in case she leapt to the god’s defense.

Frey charged, swinging the chain over his head. It was an awkward swing, and he managed to accidentally snap the chain into a solid sword. The change surprised him enough that Erik was able to pivot out of his way and bring his blade across the back of Frey’s thigh, slicing the muscle open, but not as deeply as he’d have liked. The god stumbled, but whipped his sword around to leave a shallow furrow along Erik’s pec up to his shoulder. It burned like a son of a bitch, but was superficial.

They circled each other, looking for an opening, any weakness they could exploit. There. The god dropped one shoulder just a bit, and Erik knew his hold on the blade wasn’t as strong as it should be. A rookie mistake. He brought his sword down, and Frey’s wrist gave out, leaving his torso unprotected. Erik used his wolf’s claws to slash across the god’s stomach, hoping to gut him like a gaping fish.

Another glancing wound. Painful, but not life-threatening. Shit.

Letting his sword arm go lax, Frey made Erik stumble. Swinging his free hand, the god drove three quick punches into Erik’s side. Kidney shots. He’d be pissing blood for a week if he survived this. Pain shuddered up his ribs, and he wheezed in a breath. Frey grabbed for Erik’s head, aiming for his eyes. Ducking, Erik sank his fangs into the god’s arm, ripping a large chunk of flesh out with a vicious shake of his head.

With a pained cry, Frey fell back a few steps. “Fucking animal!”

Erik spat the chunk out as if it were foul and smirked at Frey. “That was for Bryn. I saw the marks on her neck from your jötunn scum.”

“I knew you loved her.” Gloating rang in his tone.

Erik swiped at his mouth. “Congratulations. I’m going to kill you for ever daring to touch her, you worthless piece of shit.”

Their swords clashed again, sparks flying every time the metal met. Erik kept his extra senses open, in case Kata or a giant approached. Moving in the loose sand made the fight more exhausting, sucking his feet down if he stayed in one place a moment too long.

They jumped back, separating again to circle. The god was panting hard, blood and sweat pouring down his face. It was clear he hadn’t fought anyone in quite some time, but he was a god of fertility, fair weather, and sunshine. Not much warring needed for that. But he had the strength of a god and that was a definite advantage, while Erik had his centuries of battle-hardened experience and training behind him.

How much stamina did the god have? More than Erik, or less? Who could outlast the other might be the deciding factor on who won.

* * *

Bryn couldn’t even begin to count how many broken bones she had. Every breath was a struggle, and she could only manage a shallow panting. Pain was a living, writhing beast inside her, threatening to wrench her back into unconsciousness. A part of her would welcome the oblivion, the cessation of agony, the peace, but she couldn’t give in. Not now. Not yet.

Soon.

She was the only one still left in the bunker, except for the stiffening corpses of two fire giants with a bullet holes in their foreheads. Kata had followed Erik and Frey outside, so Bryn knew if the other valkyrie had the opportunity, she’d make sure Erik lost. That thought alone was enough to have Bryn crawling toward an overturned desk and using it to haul herself to her feet. The broken ankle throbbed as if someone were stabbing a hot poker into her joint. Her vision went black for a moment, and she had to lean heavily against the desk to remain upright. She gritted her teeth to keep in a scream. It hurt. Every fucking part of her hurt.

One of the desk legs was loose, and she yanked at it until it came free. She used it as a cane as she made her way through the debris to the opening Erik had shoved Frey through. The light and blowing sand stung her eyes, and she turned her face away for a moment, shielded her gaze with her free hand and looked again.

Chaos reigned.

To her right, Val was in a sword fight with Surtr, though the berserker appeared to be losing. Not far from them, Holm lodged his battle-axe in the back of the two-headed frost giant. He went down with a great spray of sand, the axe still wedged between his shoulders, but Holm had already turned to sprint toward Val. Good. Two against one. They might stand a chance against the fire king.

A rough shout drew her gaze to the left, where Erik battled Frey. Though Frey was a god, he wasn’t much of a warrior. He’d given up his sword when he’d married his giantess. The match was more even than it would normally be. But Frey had Kata on his side. The valkyrie’s gaze was fixed intently on the combatants, which made it easy for Bryn to get behind her.

Hefting the desk leg like a baseball bat, she swung as hard as she could, put every ounce of her lagging strength behind the hit. A dull thud and blood poured from the gash in the back of Kata’s skull. She went down like a ton of bricks.

Bryn felt the air waver and change, magic flooding her being, enervating her until her skin was too hot and too tight.

The victory judgment had shifted to her.

Bracing her feet apart, she dropped the makeshift cane. It wasn’t much use in shifting sand, and it was getting harder and harder to move her swelling fingers. Sweat slid down her face, her hands shaking, muscles in her legs cramping with pain. She wasn’t going to remain conscious for much longer—the beating had taken too much out of her. But she had to stay on her feet long enough to render judgment, which came only at the end of the fight and she couldn’t force it forward. All power had its limits. Locking her gaze on the combatants, she waited for a moment when Erik had the upper hand, when the magic coursing through her would let her make that final decision. It coiled, waiting like a snake ready to strike. She clenched her jaw, ignoring the agony screaming through her, the darkness that edged at the corners of her eyes.

Stay awake, Bryn. Just stay awake. A few minutes more, that’s all.

Shifting her weight made her catch her breath. The ankle throbbed sickeningly, the wounds on her collarbones still oozed blood, and fiery pins and needles prickled her arms and hands. Nausea roiled within her, and she wanted nothing more than to bend over and heave her guts up. Tremors ran through her and her palms went clammy. Even in the desert heat, cold sweat slicked her skin.

A wolf’s howl wrenched from Erik’s throat, and he charged the god, his sword hammering down again and again, taking advantage of the god’s flagging endurance. He used martial arts moves the god clearly didn’t know how to counter. Even exhausted, they fought with speed almost too fast for her to track, but she stayed with them. A single slip of the foot on this sand could spell Erik’s doom—even if he looked better than his opponent, there were no guarantees.

A roar sounded to her right, and she flicked her gaze in that direction. The frost giant wasn’t dead and bellows issued from both of his mouths. He carried Holm’s battle-axe and came at her, each stride seeming to eat up a mile. He’d be on her in seconds. She knew she was going to die. Her immortality was over.

She could have tried to run, tried to shift forms, but that would have left Erik to a fate she couldn’t bear. Having even a small part in his death—again—would shred what little remained of her blackened heart. She couldn’t do it, wouldn’t do it. Maybe Nauma was right, and love was what would end this thing. Bryn loved him too much to let him die. So she stood her ground, praying to Freya that judgment would come before she died.

Erik dropped down and swiped out a leg, toppling Frey. Rearing up, he used both hands to drive his sword deep into the god’s chest. Even then, Frey struggled, tried to slash at Erik with his blade.

“Now,” she whispered and managed to hold up her palms, throwing every ounce of magic and willpower she had behind Erik’s victory.

A harsh cry, and the two combatants went still.

The berserker had beaten a god.

She turned her head, knowing that the giant would be on her in the next split-second, and she braced for impact. His arm raised, the battle-axe clutched in his meaty fist.

Here it came.

A short crack sounded in the distance, and then the giant’s elbow exploded into shards of bone and bloody flesh that splattered across her face. The axe fell to the ground and deafening screams rent the air. Bryn swayed, staring dumbly. She blinked and he was gone, teleporting away—probably back to Jötunheim.

On a rock outcropping above her, Nauma slowly stood. Beside her, Ivar heaved himself into a sitting position and lifted his massive rifle so it laid across his lap.

He’d shot the giant and saved her life.

“Bryn?” Erik shoved the prone form of the god off of him and used his sword as a crutch to heave himself to his feet. He was covered in gore, blood seeping from several cuts she could see. None looked too deep.

“Here,” she whispered.

“Good.” He lifted the long blade high and brought it down on Frey’s neck, severing the god’s head.

The battle was over.

The magic that had flooded her evaporated, leaving her empty and cold. Exhaustion finally won, and she hit her knees hard. Pain shafted up her legs, but it was just one more agony on top of all the others shrieking within her.

“Bryn!”

There was panic in Erik’s voice, and she wanted to respond but couldn’t find the energy. She couldn’t even lift her hands to catch herself before she toppled over into the burning sand. It filled her mouth and scorched her cheek.

The world spun in a sickening whirl when she was flipped over, and Erik hauled her into his arms. She blinked hard, but couldn’t bring his beloved face into focus. Please, Freya. Let me see him. One last time.

But the goddess didn’t answer her prayers. Perhaps a fitting punishment for one who’d been so lax in her service.

She blinked again, and his hand had risen into the air. When had he moved? He shouted words, but there was something wrong with her hearing, because sounds kept fading in and out.

Then a woman peered down at her, the sun reflecting off her golden hair so brightly it made Bryn flinch. Sif? What was a peaceful earth goddess doing on a battlefield?

Erik’s voice demanded, “Take us to Eir.”

9

Erik paced in a tight circle at the end of Bryn’s bed. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he watched her still body for even a hint of movement. “Why doesn’t she waken?”

Breath easing out in a quiet sigh, Nauma answered the question he’d already asked a dozen times. “Eir gave her a healing potion and said Bryn would sleep until she was fully healed. Apparently, she’s not fully healed yet.”

“It’s been three fucking days,” he snapped. “How long will it take?”

He knew it wasn’t reasonable to take his frustration out on the völva, but he’d left reasonable behind long ago. Three. Fucking. Days.

“Eir is the goddess of healing, Erik.” Nauma folded her arms over her breasts and gave him a look that said her patience was wearing thin. “If you think the human doctors can do better, feel free to take her to a hospital. Good luck explaining how she ended up in a coma.”

He growled, the wolf barely leashed. He’d already had to call in favors from some of his old contacts in law enforcement to get the local cops to drop Bryn’s kidnapping case. Bringing doctors in would just start that problem over again. Though if he thought for even a moment the mortals might help her, he’d do it, problems be damned.

Nauma’s expression softened. “I know you’re worried—”

“I’m not worried. She’s going to wake up. She’ll be fine.” His voice gave a humiliating crack on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “She will be fine.”

“Of course she will.”

He rounded on her, desperate for even a tiny scrap of reassurance. “Did you See that? That’d she’d be all right?”

She shook her head. “No, but I have faith in Eir’s abilities. She said Bryn would heal, and I believe her.”

“Right.” He paced another circle at the end of the bed. A bed they’d shared. But his Bryn was fire and passion, and the woman who lay there was still as death, pale as a winter moon, and cold to the touch.

What he wouldn’t give to have her dark eyes open. Her sharp tongue would be a welcome respite from this deafening silence. He hated it. He was going to start crawling the walls soon. Every second that passed killed him a little more, but he couldn’t bear to leave her. The moment he turned his back, she’d awaken just to spite him. Or die. He needed to be near, needed to see her chest rise and fall with every breath, proof that some life still flowed through her veins.

Gods help him if that stopped.

He might actually lose his mind. The wolf inside him struggled for dominance, luring him over to the bestial side. Give in to that, become the wolf and disappear, never look back.

It was tempting. So very tempting.

But the man couldn’t let go yet. Not while she still lived. If she died…

He shook his head, trying to banish that thought. She had to live. She had to.

He’d never quite realized how much comfort he’d taken in knowing that, no matter what happened, she would survive to see the new world with him. That they would find each other again, at the end of all things, and even when the worst had come to pass, she would be by his side. He would spend his days in her arms, finding endless pleasure in her body, coaxing her into that rare smile that lit his soul, having the life that should have been theirs so long ago.

But there was no comfort now, no solace as he watched her, helpless to do anything. Powerless to stop fate from ripping her away from him again.

The wolf within whined, and it was all Erik could do not to throw his head back and keen with the same agony. Man and beast both wanted their mate.

“She’s going to wake up, Erik,” Nauma said softly.

“When?” The word emerged as half-groan, half-sob. He didn’t give a shit that it was a noise a warrior shouldn’t make. Nauma could think whatever the hell she wanted of him.

“Now,” a rusty voice said from the bed.

“What?” He jerked around to face her, and found himself pinned in place by uncanny midnight eyes. Then he did sob, covering his face with one hand and setting the other against the wall to keep himself upright. “Gods.”

“What happened?” Bryn asked, her voice like gravel in a blender, but it sounded perfect to him. She was alive. She was awake. Finally.

Nauma answered her because Erik was still swiping tears from his face. “Our guys are all fine. Eir patched them up, and you too. Surtr and the two-headed frost giant escaped. Frey’s dead. That’s all we know at the moment.”

Nodding, Bryn rasped, “Water.”

“Right here.” Nauma aimed a straw at her mouth. “Eir said to give you this when you woke up.”

Bryn sucked down whatever was in the glass, but Erik waited, tense. Eir had given the other berserkers and him similar healing draughts, but he no longer quite trusted the drinks that magic-wielders offered. Potions had stolen her from him before. Would losing her be his punishment for killing Frey? Such a move would be divisive amongst those who dwelled in Valhalla.

Bryn licked her lips and pushed herself upright.

“Should you be moving so soon?” His question cracked with more harshness than he’d meant, and both women glared. His wounds had healed in seconds after he’d drunk the stuff, but he’d had nothing bad enough to kill him. Bryn had.

“I feel fine, actually.” Bryn nodded to the empty glass. “Eir’s potion did its work. I could use a shower though.”

“I’ll carry you.” He took a step forward, but she flinched back, and he froze.

“I can walk.” She swung her legs over the side of the mattress, her movements as fluid as ever. Her hair swung forward and covered her expression. She wore one of his T-shirts—the closest thing at hand when they’d returned—and it slipped off one shoulder. “I feel fine, I told you. Don’t concern yourself.”

Her eyes didn’t meet his, and that was wrong. Except for that first moment when she’d woken, she hadn’t looked at him. Why? Did she blame him for what Frey and the jötunn had done to her? What she’d gone through had been an act of revenge against Erik. If she’d never met him, she’d have been spared so much pain and suffering. He swallowed, willing her to face him, to say something.

Nauma seemed to sense the tension and pushed to her feet. “I’ll leave you two alone, but…you realize events have unfolded in ways not called for in the great prophecy. It’s a whole new ballgame now, kiddies.”

Looking at the völva, Erik asked, “What’s going to happen next?”

“I have no idea.” She smiled ruefully. “I’ll meditate on it—maybe I can See something. No promises though. This mess has been murky from the day you approached Bryn.”

He spread his hands. “You told me to.”

“I said you’d need a shieldmaiden. I never said which one and you know it.” She shook a finger at him. “Kata would have been another useful one to track down, wouldn’t she?”

Bryn rose easily, the hem of his shirt dancing around the tops of her thighs, just barely keeping her decently covered. A pity, that.

“If Erik hadn’t come to me, Frey might have killed me in my sleep. My farmhands would have been easy prey—lambs to the slaughter. Even if Frey had just kidnapped me, if other immortals hadn’t been here to do something about it… Well, we all know what would have become of me.”

He’d held the guilt at bay during the time she’d been comatose, but now it bit him hard. “If I hadn’t led him to you—”

“He’d have found me anyway,” she insisted, cutting him off. “It’s not like I was in deep hiding. I had no idea I needed to be, that I was a real target for anyone.”

“Would you have been a target if it weren’t for my love for you?” he snapped back. “If you had no connection to me, if I hadn’t come straight to you the second Nauma even nudged me in your direction, would Frey have come after you? How far in advance was his vengeance planned? We’ll never know, but…”

“Love?” Bryn’s eyes were wider and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them. Utter shock molded her lovely features.

“And that’s my cue. I’m off to meditate and focus my Sight. Good night, you two. Have fun—you’ve earned it.” Nauma disappeared through the door, the knob clicking softly as she shut it behind her.

* * *

Bryn was dreaming. She had to be. Only once had he ever said he loved her, right before he left her forever.

Or maybe she was dead.

Was this what Niflheim was like, what Hel did to the departed? Mocking phantasms that reminded you of all you’d never achieved in life? Shattered hopes turned to nightmares? Bryn doubted she’d be in much favor with Hel, so perhaps this was a special form of torment reserved just for the damned.

She pinched her arm hard, and it hurt…but maybe that didn’t mean anything.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, grabbing her wrist. “I didn’t drag your ass to Asgard and back right after I’d killed one of the most popular gods just so you could injure yourself. What the fuck?”

“Just…making sure I was awake.” And wasn’t that a stupid thing to say? She sounded half-cracked. Clearing her throat, she yanked her arm away from him. “How did you get me to Asgard?”

“Sif helped us.”

“Ah.” Now that he mentioned it, she recalled seeing the golden goddess before she’d blacked out.

“Ah? You have no other questions than that?” He prowled around her room like a caged animal. The wolf was unhappy about something.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as he went back and forth. “The goddess helped you because she doesn’t want the Earth to be consumed during Ragnarök, and because she actually likes her husband and doesn’t want to lose him during the apocalypse. Then she helped you because you were on a mission to throw a wrench in Loki and Frey’s plans, which also benefits her. How close am I?”

“Spot on,” he barked.

She tilted her head, a tiny bit of amusement filtering through her. “Why are you pissed off at me?”

“Because you almost died, damn you! Because you’re not even looking at me!” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Because…because I just fucking said I loved you and your response was to start pinching yourself.”

Love. Gods, he’d said it again. A sense of unreality swamped her, and she drew in a calming breath. “Erik, I…”

“You? What?”

How could he love her after all she’d done to him? Yes, he’d said he forgave her, but there was a pretty big distance between forgiveness and love. Then again, hadn’t she always loved him, even when she hated him? She pushed her hair back, wincing as she hit a tangled snarl. “You just surprised me.”

His mouth opened, then shut so quickly his teeth clacked together. He folded his arms and stared at her. “How could that surprise you?”

“Aren’t you the man who said you hadn’t given a shit about me since I murdered your son? Aren’t you the one who encouraged Frey to murder me?” She tilted her head. “Call me crazy, but that doesn’t scream undying love to me. That screams hate with the fire of a thousand suns.”

His dark expression eased a bit. “You had to know I didn’t mean it.”

“I hoped you didn’t.” But it had still hurt to hear the words, and admitting that would make her feel like an idiot so she kept it to herself. “I knew you’d try to come after me and you’d do what you could to save me, but…you’re supposed to stop Ragnarök. I got caught in the crossfire. That doesn’t have anything to do with love.”

He rubbed a spot between his eyebrows as if she’d given him a headache. “I didn’t come after you just because you got caught in the crossfire.”

Impatience radiated off of him, and maybe she deserved that. Maybe she should just take this perfect, beautiful thing he offered and not question it too much, but…she couldn’t. “Ah.”

He shook his head. “Ah?”

“You surprised me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned quietly. “You said that already.”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She glanced away. This wasn’t really going well, was it? She’d always been better with swords and horses than with people and emotions. Maybe it was time to beat a retreat. “I think I’m going to take that shower now.”

But his words brought her up short. “You said you forgave me for everything. Was that just a heat of the moment thing?”

“No, it wasn’t,” she answered softly. She had forgiven him for the pain he’d caused her, both inadvertent and deliberate. His apologies had eased the bitterness, and his understanding of her actions had made all the difference in the world. They weren’t the people they had been back then, and she was glad for that. She loved the man he’d grown into more than she’d imagined possible.

His voice went dull and flat. “You forgive me, but you don’t love me.”

“I don’t know how to trust love.” She worried the hem of the shirt between her fingers. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it, it just means I know how quickly it can evaporate into nothing. It’s fickle.”

“My love isn’t.”

She just gave him a look and didn’t respond.

“I have always loved you, Brynhild. My Bryn. I will love you until the end of time. Not even death could stop it.” He shook his head. “As soon as that vile, evil potion wore off and my memories came back, I loved you. Still, always. The one truth that makes up the utter core of my soul, Bryn, is that I love you.”

Oh. The sincerity that rang in his tone made moisture burn the backs of her eyes. Her lips trembled and she pressed them together to stop the shaking.

He caught her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I need you. I pretended I didn’t for so long, but I’m only half-alive without you. Being with you again made that so clear. I need you. Maybe if we stick with each other this time, you’ll find a way to trust in me, in us. It seems to me the worst stuff happens when we’re apart.”

“I…I could try that.” She blinked back the tears that threatened. “I don’t want to lose you again. I need you too.”

“You love me too?” He shook her a little.

She arched her eyebrows. “I said so.”

“You said you feel it, but don’t trust it. Say it directly,” he demanded.

“I love you. Even when I wanted to kill you, I loved you.” She didn’t mention that she’d hated herself for that weakness. He knew her well enough to have figured that out by himself.

He closed his eyes, his throat working as he swallowed. “Thank you.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her in, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. It felt so good to be close to him again, to feel the warmth of his big body, the resilience of his skin. She cupped the back of his head, stroking down to the nape of his neck. A bit of stubble prickled her palms—he hadn’t bothered to shave it smooth for at least a couple of days. Not while he was watching over her. Her heart squeezed at that realization. She wouldn’t have wanted to leave his side for very long either, if their roles had been reversed.

“Erik…I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more.” He turned his head and caught the ultrasensitive flesh just below her ear between his teeth. Her body quivered in response, her eyes rolling back. Desire was a hot glow in her belly that spread and consumed her like fire. She’d never thought to feel it again, when that giant came at her. The lush beauty of it made the pleasure that much sharper.

He tried to capture her mouth with his and she chuckled, evading him. “I really do need to shower. And brush my teeth. I think something died in my mouth.”

He laughed outright at that, holding her tight and rocking her in his arms. “Back in the day, that wouldn’t have been such an issue.”

“Welcome to the New World, my friend.” She tugged on his earlobe. “Hygiene is a fabulous thing.”

“You won’t mind if I help you in the shower, will you?” He squeezed her bare buttocks, sending a teasing finger gliding along the midline. “You have been convalescing for a while.”

She grinned, unable to help a shiver of need. “I wouldn’t want to overexert myself, you mean?”

“Exactly.” He nipped at that sweet spot again.

Her breath stopped, her nipples going tight. “I might be convinced to let you wash my back.”

“I’ll be very thorough,” he promised, his voice taking on that dark, sinful note that he used in bed.

A little humming noise escaped her. Slipping away, she turned for the bathroom and tugged the shirt over her head as she went. She glanced back when she dropped it and—oh, yeah—his glittering gaze was glued to her ass, a flush of lust already highlighting his cheekbones. Nice.

She crooked a finger at him. “You haven’t moved, lover. Come to me.”

His lip curling up to bare his fangs, he growled, “I am resisting the urge to drag you to the floor and mount you.”

That mental image made hot fluids slick her sex. His nostrils flared and she knew he could smell how wet she was. His gray eyes turned an incandescent silver, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“I suggest you hurry, Bryn.”

Normally, that would prompt her to go slower, just for the sheer joy of teasing him. But she found she couldn’t wait either. Picking up the pace, she strode into the bathroom, and made quick work with the toothbrush. Then she moved to the bathtub and bent to turn on the shower.  She knew the position would be too much temptation for him, and she grinned when his palms curved over her butt.

She laughed quietly. “Are you naked yet, Erik?”

“Stripped on my way to the bathroom.” His fangs nipped at the top of one buttock, and she couldn’t help an inelegant yelp. He licked the spot he’d bitten. “You just didn’t look back.”

“You suggested I hurry,” she pointed out, glancing over her shoulder. “That means I don’t stop and ogle. One or the other, sweetheart.”

Instead of replying, he scooped her up in his arms and stepped under the stream of warm water. It sluiced down their bodies, slipping over her breasts and making her shudder. He set her on her feet, making sure every inch of her slid against him as he let her down. His chest hair stimulated her nipples and they beaded tighter. The steam curled around them, dewing their skin further. Somehow that made the moment even more intimate, the mist shutting the rest of the world away, dampening the sounds even her sensitive ears could pick up. Everything turned soft and sensual.

She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, savoring the feel of his hard body against hers. The shower spray hit her hair, sleeking the locks into a wet sheet down her back.

The noise he made was one of pure need. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

Opening her eyes, she shook her head, ran a fingertip down his nose, and tapped the tip. “I’m pretty enough, but you’ve met women who were more beautiful. Your wife was. Kata is.”

“None can match you in my eyes.” His expression was reverent.

Her heart cinched, but she didn’t know how to respond to that, so she drew his head down and kissed him, telling him with actions how his words moved her. She loved him so much. Always had, always would, no matter how she might have fought it or denied it.

He tasted like coffee and sugar and Erik. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, wanting more of that addicting flavor. She couldn’t get enough, didn’t want to. His lips played over hers, hot possession and slow seduction. She strained against him, wanting nearer, wanting everything he had to give. His thick cock rode into the curve of her lower belly, close to where she needed it, but not close enough. He pressed her against the slippery tile wall, and she curled a leg around his hip, opening herself for him. She tilted her hips in blatant invitation, but he continued to kiss her leisurely, even though she could feel the hard urgency of his need.

Why was he suddenly hesitating?

Extending her talons, she pricked them into his shoulders. She felt him smile against her lips, and she chuckled into his mouth, smacking her palm lightly against the back of his skull. He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “I love making you laugh and smile.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” she answered dryly. Then she slipped a hand between them and twirled a finger around the flat disc of his nipple. His breath caught and he groaned. She pinched and twisted, using the same slow precision with which he’d kissed her. “I love making you want me so much you lose control.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek and she could see the pounding of his pulse at the base of his throat. His voice was a wolfish rumble when he spoke, “You’ve always been able to drive me wild, Bryn.”

“Good,” she purred, flicking her thumbnail against his nipple. “But if you were really wild, Erik, you’d be inside me now, fucking me so hard my eyes rolled back.”

“You’ve been in a coma.” He swallowed, but his burning quicksilver eyes betrayed how much he struggled to maintain his restraint. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she whispered. “Magical healing is miraculous that way.”

Curving her hands over his broad shoulders, she used him as leverage to wrap both legs around his waist. A quick arch of her back and she’d taken his cock deep inside her. He gasped and she let loose a throaty moan. The fit was as perfect as always, the way he stretched her was beyond amazing. Still she managed a small grin. “See? Not hurt. Just wanting you to take me exactly the way I like.” She brushed little kisses over his chin, the corner of his mouth. “Fast…hard…deep…”

The sound that issued from his chest was like a human volcano erupting. His hands gripped her ass with bruising force and he began to piston in and out of her pussy. The shower poured over them, hot beads of water streaking down their skin. It was like being caressed over every inch of her body, the silky feel of liquid plus the rough satin of his flesh.

But it was his expression that made her burn for more. He was flushed with heat and lust, his fangs bared in feral display, but his gaze was more open and tender than she’d ever seen it. So much love was there—an ocean of it, enough to last a million lifetimes. Her heart tripped and hammered against her ribs. Emotion and sensation swept through her as he pounded into her sex. Orgasm beckoned, her pussy contracting every time he filled into her. They moved together, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. Tingles swept over her skin, excitement and need twining within her.

She let him see what she felt, didn’t try to hide it from him or herself. No other man had ever suited her as well as him, no other man had ever challenged her the way he had. They would never be perfect people, but they were as perfect for each other now as they had been the day they’d met.

“It really does get better every time.” He grinned at her, flashing his dimple as he ground his pelvis into her clit.

“Yes,” she gasped. In response to his statement or his actions, even she didn’t know, but she tumbled over into climax just the same. Her channel clenched around him, and still she looked at him, let him see it all. How he turned her inside out with pleasure, how he made her feel. His chest hair rasped against her nipples, and the way he kept thrusting into her made orgasm build again, hot and swift, until she careened over that edge again. Her nails dug into his shoulders, a sob ripping out of her. “Erik!”

“I love you,” he groaned, shuddered, and then jetted come inside her. His gaze remained locked with hers, and she saw ecstasy sharpen his features. Low groans spilled from him as he continued rocking into her pussy.

They stayed that way for a long time, their heart rates and breathing slowing, just looking at each other, savoring the chance to be together. She’d come so close to never having this opportunity again. It wasn’t until the shower grew chilly and her legs began to cramp that she slipped her feet to the tub floor.

“My Erik.” She pulled him down for a kiss, trailing her fingers down his cheek, his jaw, the back of his neck. When they broke apart, his lips formed a soft smile. She tweaked his chin and winked at him. “Damn, the water’s freezing.”

She reached over and twisted the knob to turn off the shower, then stepped out to towel off. He followed her, and they went through their grooming routines. It was odd to have someone else’s toiletries next to hers, to share her personal space with another human being. Odd, yes, but still good. She could definitely get used to this. It was a little scary to consider getting used to having him and then losing him again, but she’d already come far too close to never seeing him again. He’d have been here or in Valhalla, and she’d have been locked in with Hel. Forever. Maybe Bryn would have died valorously in battle, but with Odin and Freya missing in action, Bryn had no doubts about Hel using Bryn’s death as a way to imprison her in Niflheim. Frey wanted to stop Erik and her from repopulating the planet after Ragnarök, and his allies would probably have happily kept that plan on track whether the god was dead or not.

But it was Frey who’d be stuck in Niflheim for all eternity. His treachery wouldn’t go unnoticed in Asgard, and he wouldn’t be welcomed back. Good riddance.

Erik’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “What are you thinking about?”

“You. Frey. Everything.” She leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “But mostly you.”

“We lost a lot of time we could have spent together, you and I.” He didn’t say that the minutes they had left might be limited, but she saw in his expression that he was thinking it.

She hesitated. “It took a long while to get to a place where I could cope with what had happened. Acceptance takes time, and it can’t be rushed.”

“A thousand years?” His eyebrows went up.

“Maybe not quite that long,” she conceded. “But I don’t think either of us wanted to approach the other, given the circumstances of our last meeting. Fate in the form of Nauma had to give us a push. Or you, rather.”

Even with a völva pushing, Bryn wasn’t sure she’d have been convinced to go near him. Not unless Freya forced her to. It was probably best he’d been the one Nauma prodded. Stubbornness had served Bryn well through her long life, though she usually knew when to bend. But for good or ill, she’d always had a blind spot where Erik was concerned. Just by existing, he made her react, made her feel. That meant she lost some of her control, but it also meant there was one person who could make sure that she never turned into to a cold, empty shell. Some immortals did, and as uncomfortable as emotions could be, she wanted to feel them.

Especially when it came to him.

Turning away from the vanity, she held out her hand to him and they walked hand-in-hand to the bed. She lay on her side, and he dropped onto his back next to her. He turned his head and met her gaze, something troubled in those silver depths. “Bryn…”

She ran a fingertip along his brow. “Yes?”

“I almost lost you,” he croaked. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, and he scowled. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. You’re not allowed to die on me, do you hear? I forbid it.”

She smiled then, a huge, brilliant smile. The one she knew he liked best. “I love you, too.”

The sound that escaped him was a sob tangled with a laugh. “I love you so fucking much, Bryn. Never leave me again.”

“Never willingly,” she agreed, resting her chin on his chest. “If you promise the same.”

He cupped her cheek. “I swear it.”

Because she was a realist, and happiness was so often an ephemeral thing, she said, “Death continues to nip at our heels, Erik. Ragnarök still threatens.”

“I know, hjartað mitt, but we stand together now.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “It’s only when we’ve been turned against each other that we’ve ever fallen.”

“True.” They’d be a hell of a lot harder to pit against each other ever again. That was one lesson she knew they’d both learned well.

They’d made a lot mistakes—they’d hurt each other and hurt themselves and they would likely do so again. Hopefully not as deeply as they once had, but love wasn’t easy. It was hard, it was painful, it was beautiful, it was sweet.

She might not be ready to put her faith in love, but she trusted him. It had taken close to forever, but she finally trusted him not to hurt her deliberately. Gods help anyone who ever doped him up with a forgetting potion again. She’d kill the bitch in a hot second. Maybe that was too bloodthirsty for modern sensibilities, but she was a Viking after all. Her people weren’t exactly known for their peaceful solutions to problems.

His expression turned fierce, the grip of his fingers painfully tight. “Stay with me, in life and in death, if that’s what comes for us.”

“Until death and beyond,” she vowed. “I love you.”

THE END

Want more from Crystal Jordan? Join her mailing list here. And turn the page for an excerpt from Roman Reunion.

MORE FROM CRYSTAL JORDAN

Crystal Jordan is originally from California, but has lived and worked all over the United States as a university librarian. An award winning author, Crystal has published contemporary, paranormal, futuristic, and erotic romance with Kensington Aphrodisia, Harlequin Spice Briefs, Ellora’s Cave, and Samhain Publishing.

Crystal also loves connecting with readers on social media:

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Recent Books by Crystal Jordan

Twilight of the Gods Series

Viking Fire

Viking Captive (coming Spring 2015)

Destination: Desire Series

Vegas Vacation

Hawaiian Holiday

Italian Interlude

Roman Reunion

Alaskan Adventure (coming December 2014)

Forbidden Passions Series

Stolen Passions

Fleeting Passions

Illicit Passions

Enjoy the following excerpt from Roman Reunion:

Karen had forgotten how vibrant Rome was, especially the narrow, sloping alleys that made up the Trastevere rione where she’d gone to college and where Valentina and Gio still lived. Karen had always loved it here. The rush of cars at a breakneck speed they’d never dare in America, the mass of people from all over the world who’d come to visit, the historic architecture, museums and monuments. She dragged in a breath…and the tantalizing aroma of Italian food hit her nose. There was a restaurant on the bottom floor of Gio and Valentina’s building. Karen’s mouth watered, her stomach growled and she was forcefully reminded that it would be breakfast time if she were in California. A nine-hour time difference could really mess a body up.

Her old friends lived on the top floor, so Karen had stepped outside on the balcony to escape the wedding preparation madness. She was fairly certain every single female relative of Valentina’s had managed to cram themselves into the apartment. And they were loud and boisterous and happy. But mostly loud.

Glancing at her watch, she saw it was well past time when she could check into her hotel. It took her half an hour to say goodbye to everyone because they all insisted on a hug and a kiss from her, told her how much they liked her new hairstyle, insisted she come back for dinner. Finally, Valentina laughed, grabbed Karen’s elbow and thrust her out the door or she might never have escaped. She was still grinning when she hit the bottom of the staircase and entered the lobby.

And slammed into someone trying to go up the stairs. She stumbled back, an apology on her lips, but it never formed as her gaze collided with her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s.

“Tate,” she said faintly, falling back another step. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

The flash of utter shock on his face told her he’d had no idea they would both be in Rome either. He cleared his throat. “The same thing you are, I’d imagine. Attending an old friend’s wedding.”

There was no way he’d had any more notice on the invitation than she’d had, which meant he’d done something spontaneous for the first time in years. She crossed her arms. “You dropped everything, just like that? You?”

He snorted. “Got one too many calls from Dad the night Gio invited me, so I ran away from home.”

The mere glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. “About time.”

Shaking his head, he huffed out a laugh. His gaze flitted over her. “You changed your hair.”

“Yes.” She flicked the tips with her fingers. “A new look to start my new life. I like it.”

He winced. She tried not to cringe because, really, she hadn’t meant to rub his face in it. It was just the standard response she’d come up with every time someone asked why she’d cut it.

Then there was an awkward moment where she had no idea what to say. She hadn’t expected to see him, didn’t have a list of banal conversational topics ready to save her from uncomfortable silences. “Uh…okay.” She glanced aside. “I need to go check in to my hotel. I, um, guess I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

“Yes.” He let her get halfway across the lobby before he called out. “Out of curiosity, which hotel are you staying at?”

“The Gianicolo.”

“Me too.” An ironic smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “Giovanni recommended it to you too, huh?”

She pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “I may have to murder him.”

“Not if I beat you to it.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he waved her off. “See you at dinner.”

“Bye.”

Then they went their separate ways. As usual.

AT THE VIKING’S COMMAND

by

Anne Marsh

Anne-Marsh.com | Facebook | Mailing List

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Welcome to Warriors Unleashed! At the Viking’s Command is the second story in my new paranormal series. Although it can be read standalone, it has two companion stories: Viking’s Orders and Bound by the Viking. I’m particularly excited about At the Viking’s Command because it has werewolves! If you know me, you know I like my werewolves hot, alpha and bad boy to the bone (Blue Moon Brides werewolves…I’m looking at you!). To stay in touch and for free books, please join my mailing list.

~ Anne

BEFORE

Killing was the easy part.

It was the fucking incarceration he didn’t like.

Crouched on the floor of his cell, Calder tested the bars as he’d done every day for the last month. The steel-reinforced iron didn’t give and the drugs pumping through his veins left him too weakened to shift into his bear form. He’d stay here until his captors dragged him out for the night’s fight, only to shoot him full of another damned drug and dump him in the pit to face off against a paranormal opponent who hadn’t signed up for hand-to-hand with a Viking berserker. Like the last night and a seemingly endless string of nights before that, he would take down the other fighter, sometimes even without going berserk and shifting into his bear form. Because fighting was the one thing he did well. Fuck.

Eventually, the pit keepers would screw up. Someone would get the drug dosage wrong or drop a weapon. Eventually, he’d get out of here, find his fellow Vikings, and—yeah—put the pits out of business. He might be a mercenary for hire, but he hadn’t signed up for a starring role in an illegal fighting ring. He and the other Vikings been drugged and taken coming off a battlefield, leaving him with no memories of how his ass had gotten to Las Vegas, Nevada where the pit fights were carried on in subterranean arenas deep below the Strip.

The owners of the fight pits were dangerous predators, men who set one paranormal against another for the sick amusement of the watching crowds. A few fighters were volunteers. Most, however, were there against their will, compelled to fight by a combination of drugs, instinct, and a desire to live one more night. Calder had been separated from the rest of the Vikings two weeks ago. The isolation might have been the first step in a plan to break him—or merely a prep step toward psyching him up to fight his brothers. Didn’t matter, because neither was happening.

When he heard the heavy boot steps moving down the hall toward his cell, he dropped into a fighting stance. The cell next door was empty—he’d killed the occupant last night in a pit match.  Either the boot steps heralded a new neighbor, or his guards had plans for him.

Keys rattled as the cage next to him grated open. The guard wasted no time, tossing a small bundle inside before slamming the door shut and re-locking it. He banged on Calder’s door next and Calder growled. He was really tired of this shit.

“Brought you some eye candy, Viking,” the guard called out.

Riiiight.

There was silence from the other cage, followed by a small, feminine groan. That was new. Paranormal females could be every bit as vicious as their male counterparts—the cells held at least one Valkyrie—but so far Calder had fought only males. The female rolled over, giving him his first good look at her. She was tiny, only five foot four inches. She was also curvy and soft.  Long dark hair fell over her face, concealing her expression. She wore a bloodstained USC T-shirt, a pair of cotton shorts that hugged the curve of her ass, and sparkly flip-flops. Bruises and scratches covered her legs as she curled into a defensive ball, moaning. She looked sweet, innocent, and weak.

The fragile vulnerability had to be a front. He certainly knew better than to trust her. Anyone the pit keepers intended to fight had to be capable of winning, even if her clothes screamed Club Med escapee instead of dangerous killer here.

Since it had been a long time since he saw a female so pretty, however, he spent the next two hours staring at his new roomie while he pushed his body through a brutal series of pull-ups and push-ups. She was definitely better looking than the giant-werewolf hybrid that had occupied the space last. That opponent had lasted a full twenty minutes in the ring against Calder.

She came to screaming. Typical. It took another hour for her to stop the noise and, even then, he suspected she shut up only because she’d come close to losing her voice. The whole time she hollered, she drove her hands against the iron bars, shaking and clawing at the restraints. Since he hadn’t been able to batter his way free in his bear form, there was no way she did it with her pretty pink nails.

Eventually, he got bored. “You’re not getting out.”

Her head whipped around and—nice touch—she almost hyperventilated when she spotted him. She needed to be more aware of who was in her space. She’d been so focused on the door that she’d neglected to check out her surroundings.

She babbled something he didn’t catch and rushed toward the bars separating her cell from his. Foolish. He could have stretched a hand through the bars and snapped her neck. Should have done it and saved himself the time because, eventually, the pit keepers would send her into the ring against him and she’d lose. Killing her quickly would be an act of mercy. It had been a long time, however, since he’d had company and he was actually tired of the killing. Chocolate cake might be the nectar of the gods, but serve it up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and it got old.

She didn’t stop the flow of questions, but they slowed down some into a stead flow: “Where are we? Who kidnapped us? Who’s getting us out?”

He had a question of his own. “What are you?”

To his surprise, she poked him through the bars. Most paranormals took one look at him and backed the hell up. They saw a seven-foot-tall Viking with shaggy hair and ripped muscles, and didn’t get within touching distance until they were dying. And that was without his usual arsenal of weapons. Before he’d come to the pits, he’d gone nowhere without his battle-axes.

His new neighbor didn’t seem to notice he was a lethal killer. She jabbed her finger into him again to punctuate her litany of questions. He looked down and glared at the offending digit, but she didn’t remove it.

“Is this an international slavery ring?” She countered her question with another one and then she was off and running again. She talked and talked and talked. Since her constant stream of words gave him plenty of time to think, he decided he didn’t really mind. Not being a talker himself, the constant silence sometimes got old. His new neighbor also had a pretty voice to go with her face, so he admired the scenery until, eventually, she stopped. Apparently, she topped out at 112 conspiracy theories. He’d counted.

“What are you?” he repeated.

“Pissed,” she snapped and he grinned. She did have a backbone. Good for her.

“Vampire? Elf? Land spirit? Valkyrie? Werewolf?” She didn’t look like any of those. Perhaps she was a minor goddess. A very, very minor goddess. Of fluffy slippers and sparkly flip-flops. She was certainly no tough girl.

Slumping against the wall beside the bars separating them, she rested her head against the wall. “You’re crazy. Which is totally understandable.”

Her opinions on his sanity—or lack thereof—were irrelevant. He didn’t move away, either. Stupid. Instead, he took up a similar position, leaning against the wall a mere foot away from her, drinking in her scent. She smelled like a fruit bowl. Peaches and raspberries and something creamy. Her scent was so much better than the death and blood stench of their prison that he wanted to sit there and just breathe, which qualified him for the crazy label she’d tossed in his direction.

When she shifted at sunset an hour later, he realized that he’d underestimated her after all.  Her transformation was beautiful. Bones cracked, her body jerking as it shed her humanity like so much unwanted clothing. Fur rushed over her skin in a long, smooth roll of white and gray. A snow wolf. Imagine that. Fuck him, but Fenrir’s get was the last thing he’d have pegged her for.

His neighbor threw back her head and howled. In her lupine form, she was undeniably powerful. She snapped her jaws at him, growling as she battered her body against the iron bars. Hel. Since she was one of Fenrir’s children, she was also squarely in the kill-on-sight camp. Like most of the paranormal world, the Vikings didn’t tolerate werewolves. A seer had foretold Odin’s death at the hand of a werewolf, a death that would kick off the start of Ragnarök, the Norse Armageddon. As a result, Odin’s policy was simple.

Kill the wolves.

Every. Single. One.

Calder and his fellow berserkers weren’t exactly high on Odin’s current list of favorites—understandable, as they’d been created by Loki to wreak havoc—so none of them could afford to piss off the god.  It was too bad for his little wolf. She’d go down and go down hard, even though she hadn’t asked for the bite that had rocked her world.

Too bad, so sad.

He knew all about bad breaks himself.

***

Tyra came to. That was the only word for it. She didn’t wake up, because she hadn’t been happily asleep in her bed. In fact, she wasn’t sure where she was or how she’d gotten here. Or even who she was. That was the scariest part. Her memories were all jumbled up, but she couldn’t latch onto anything other than the heart-pounding rush of adrenaline and the vicious throb in her left breast.

At least, she was pretty sure she was awake and not dreaming. Please God, let me be dreaming. But she could see her hands, and that wasn’t supposed to be possible in a dream, was it? She’d been walking…somewhere. And then something…someone…had sprung out at her. She remembered the pain and the screaming, but it was like her brain had been wiped clean before she woke up here...yesterday? Today? She remembered the cell and yelling for help, but then her memories did a fade to black and she’d lost more time.  Worse, whoever she’d been before, whatever had brought her here, she didn’t remember.

A whisper of sound brought her head up and about stopped her heart. Yep. Despite everything else she’d forgotten, she remembered the big, blood-streaked man crouched on the other side of the bars. In addition to being the biggest man she’d ever laid eyes on (and somehow she remembered that), Mr. Tall, Dark, and Feral was seriously cut, his body rippling with muscles. He also clearly didn’t believe in clothes, because the man was mostly naked except for some kind of leather and fur loincloth that screamed sexy barbarian.

She was almost certain she didn’t know him. When she wracked her brain, trying to force the memories, fragmented, postcard-like images danced in her head. A room with fruit cut crookedly out of construction paper. Children’s faces. A small house with a bright red door and dead geraniums because she killed plants. The shadowy interior of a limo, women’s faces smiling as they lifted plastic Champagne flutes in a noisy toast to a white tulle-wearing woman. Flashes of bright lights, hotel high-rises, and…a pyramid? Connecting the dots was a task of Herculean impossibility—but she knew with bone-deep certainty that those dots were all that was left of her memory.

“Oh, God.” The two words barely covered her panic. She needed her memories back.

Her barbarian companion looked about as comforting as a rock bed, but since he was the only part of this nightmare she recognized, she scooted toward him. He heaved a sigh and extended his hand through the bars, like they’d done this before. Whatever. She’d take what she could get. She slapped her hand in his and his fingers curled around hers.

“How do we get out of here?” He had to know more than she did, if only because she knew absolutely zip, nada, zilch about what was going on. One of them had to fix this and it couldn’t be her.

“There’s no we, sweetheart.” He didn’t even bother to turn his head. His fingers tightened, though, his callused fingertips rubbing over the backs of hers.

“Fuck you.” She’d had it up to here with non-answers.

The corners of his mouth tugged up when she snarled at him. What kind of a man was he? Talk to him politely and he ignored her. Curse him and he paid attention. Fine. She could kick him in the balls too. Whatever it took to make him take charge of their getting-out-of-there plan.

He turned his head and looked at her. “How much do you remember?”

Right. This wasn’t her first day at the rodeo. She’d woken up here…before? She looked down at her body. Her skin looked liked a roadmap that said she’d been to hell and back, with plenty of pit stops along the way. Blood streaked her legs and she scrubbed hard with her free hand. Her breathing suddenly sounded like a vacuum cleaner gone bad, air wheezing in and out of her lungs at a panicked rate.

He growled at her. Actually growled at her. “That’s not your blood.”

“How do you know?” Nice to know she wasn’t punctured in some vital spot, but she still couldn’t let that blood stay stuck on her skin. End of story.

“Only one fighter leaves the pits alive. You’re not dead, which means you won.”

Say what?

“I’m not a pit fighter.” Whatever that was. Was she? Because, honestly, right now anything seemed possible. Her companion certainly looked like the kind of guy who could go hand-to-hand and do mixed martial arts.

“You are, because you’re not dead. There are only three kinds of people in the pits. Fighters. Dead fighters. And pit bait. Pit bait dies first.” Shoot. He sounded beyond certain.

Oookay. “You’re not dead either.”

“No.” He closed his eyes and made himself comfortable against the wall. So close. Only four feet, possibly five, separated them. She could poke her hand through the bars and—what?

“What am I?”

“Besides a pit fighter? You’re a werewolf.”

Werewolves didn’t exist. “You’re right about one thing. You’re crazy.”

He made a why me noise. “Somebody bit you. A werewolf somebody. His bite changed you.”

Automatically, she touched the spot on her breast where her skin burned and throbbed. Since she couldn’t remember anything much—except for the excruciating sensation of pain—his theory suddenly seemed as plausible as any. Yanking her hand out of his, she pulled up her T-shirt and whimpered. There was no other way to describe the embarrassing thread of sound that escaped from her. She did have a bite mark on her breast. Four of them. Livid and inflamed, the bites were obscene tears in her skin. Not only did her injuries hurt like hell, but it was just possible that he was right.

“Overkill,” he growled and, when she looked at him, he was staring at the bite marks and he definitely wasn’t entirely human any more. She didn’t know what he was, but his face grew larger and harsher as his shoulders expanded and his body shot up, taking on a brutal, animalistic cast.

“You’re an animal.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Way to go, antagonizing her only friend.

“Only part of the time.” He bared his teeth. “And, unlike you, only when I want to be.”

***

“How recent was the bite?” He’d seen her shift. He’d known she was a werewolf—and that meant, since she was female, she’d been bitten. Fenrir’s children bred only male children. The females were converts, forcibly bitten and changed. They shifted at night only, taking on their human shapes during the daylight hours. For the first week or so after the conversion, the newly-turned were feral, savaging anyone they encountered. It explained how she’d survived her first night in the pit. She’d been an instinctive killing machine.

She glared right back at him, her brown eyes indignant as she went on the offensive. “Did you bite me while I was out? That’s sick.”

“I don’t bite.” Unless he’d shifted into his bear form when he went berserk. Then, yeah, he’d been known to bite his opponent, although he went more for rending and tearing.  Biting was for oatcakes and dogs.

“Right.” She sniffed and gave him her back.

He understood about having a beast living inside you. And, hel, his beast liked hers. He blamed it on his imprisonment—it had to have affected his head, since he was a Viking berserker and she was a werewolf. It should have been death on first sight. As a mercenary for hire, he generally only gave a fuck about world politics and domination when caring earned him a paycheck, but even he wouldn’t stand around and let Armageddon happen. But the first week or so after a bite, the newly turned rarely remembered what they did. New wolves rampaged unchecked and that was likely why their captors had brought her here. She was pit fodder even if she likely remembered none of it.

Still, although the keepers had dragged her out into the pit each night, each morning, they also brought her back. She didn’t die. By the third morning, she’d stopped screaming when she woke up and had started inventorying her hands. Yeah. She’d finally figured something was up and maybe she’d started to believe him. She didn’t like her situation and she definitely hadn’t accepted it—but she wasn’t stupid either.

The fourth morning she came back over to his side of the cell, a woman on a mission.

“You’re still here.” She dropped to the floor and crossed her legs, leaning against the wall like some kind of princess. Since werewolves shredded their clothing when they shifted, someone must have given her replacements. Not that the torn black leggings and wedge sneakers were going to do anything to keep her safe and protected. She still wore the same filthy USC T-shirt however and, when she bent forward and did some kind of yoga stretch to work out the kinks in her legs, she flashed him with a hot pink thong.

He didn’t say anything. She still talked enough for both of them.

“Where are we? You never answered that question. I want answers.” She moved closer. Another two feet and he could reach through the bars and snap her neck. Which would be a waste. Sooner or later the pit keepers would pit them against each other and he’d have to kill her then. He’d probably do it, too. He ignored the small pang of something that speared his chest. Emotions—like dying—were for the weak.

Instead, he told her the truth. “We’re in the holding cells for an underground fight ring.”

She nodded, like maybe she was finally ready to believe him, and pointed to the shallow gash on his arm. “What happened to you?”

“I was slow. There are four pit matches each night.”

“That’s a lot of fighters.” She craned her neck, like she could see through the walls surrounding them and get a head count. “Where do they keep them all?”

“The fights are to the death.” Long-term housing was not an issue.

“You kill someone each night?” Her face paled as she processed the fact that she was sharing air space with a killer. He itched to remind her she did the same thing.

The first few nights after he’d been imprisoned here, he’d considered deliberately losing or simply refusing to fight but it went against every instinct he had. He was Viking. He fought. The poor bastards in the ring with him had made the same decision and he’d honor it. Kill or be killed. The rules of his world were brutally simple. Princess here, however, clearly had a different set of operating orders.

Popping her happy bubble was easier than he’d expected.

“You must fight better than you look.”

“Excuse me?” She shoved to her feet, pushing up against the bars to get in his face. She was so easy to bait. And…she still smelled good, which was a small miracle given the lack of facilities in their prison. His keepers turned a hose on him after a fight and then sent him to the cell. Soap and hot water were unspeakable luxuries. “I don’t fight.”

“You do.”

She poked him in the chest and he was too surprised to do anything. She hadn’t touched him there before. He was nearly naked, clad only in the loincloth and leather gauntlets that amused the pit’s keepers. They both stared down at her errant finger. Fuck it. She was smart. She had to know he was no gentleman. He wrapped his hand around hers, trapping her in place. One hard tug moved her closer to the bars, her mouth kissing distance from his, so close he could feel each breath she took.

“Where do you think you go every night?”

Her pulse picked up, banging out a frantic rhythm against the soft skin of her throat. “I—”

By being ruthless, he was being her friend. She should thank him—although he knew she wouldn’t.

“You shift into your wolf form and they throw you in the pit.”

“I don’t remember what I do.”

“You will.” He ran a thumb over her fingers. She could deny it all she wanted, but the blood underneath her nails spoke volumes.

“And there’s no way out?”

For her, the answer was no. She’d fight and she’d die. Eventually, she’d come up against one of his brothers and they wouldn’t hold back. They’d look at her and they’d see only a werewolf who needed exterminating. They wouldn’t see the woman.

“I’m getting out,” he vowed. No cage could hold him forever.

“Take me with you,” she said, her words one hundred percent demand. For a brief nanosecond, his thoughts flashed elsewhere. Would she be that certain in bed? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t free a werewolf. All he could do was make her death a swift one.

So it didn’t count that part of him—and not just the boner he’d been sporting for the last half hour—wanted to give her exactly what she wanted.

He couldn’t give her a fucking happy ending or roses or a goddamned candlelit dinner. Even if they’d been kicking up their heels on the Vegas strip, free to go about their lives, he wasn’t the kind of man who dated or had relationships. He came, he fought, he left. It was in his job description and what the Vikings had been doing for centuries, with a side of pillaging.

“I can’t,” he said, knowing they both heard the regret in his voice. “Let me kiss you, okay?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, because part of him had been waiting for this moment since the pit guards had tossed her into the cell next to his. She didn’t pull back and she didn’t say no, so although he wanted her chanting his name and demanding more, more, more, he’d take what he could get.

He covered her mouth with his, angling his head to accommodate the bars between them. Threaded his free hand through the tangled hair at her neck, shifting her face until he could kiss her deeper.

Her lips parted beneath his—surprise, indignation, need…he had no idea. Heat hit him hard, a sweet, bright bolt of pleasure he’d never expected from such a simple touch. Her breath shuddered out of her mouth and he drank her in. Swept his tongue lightly over her bottom lip and stroked deeper.

She tasted sweet and desperate. He, on the other hand, was far too fucking old and used up. He tore his mouth away from hers and backed the hell away. Six inches. That was as far as he got, although he’d intended to put the entire cell between them.

“You—” She got the one word out, but then faltered. That made two of them who didn’t know what to say. He ran his thumb over her lower lip roughly where her mouth was wet from his kiss. This was the last time he’d touch her. It had to be.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.

Who knew they’d finally agree and over a kiss?

1

Twelve months later…

“Worthless bitch.” Ake’s steel-toe dug into Tyra’s ribs, retreated, then slammed hard against the bone. Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Pain radiated through her body until she couldn’t even manage a scream. The sobbing whimper that forced its way through her teeth was almost as humiliating as her position at the werewolf’s feet, facedown in the Arctic snowpack. This new feeling of helplessness was even worse than waking up in a fucking cage and discovering that not only was she a werewolf, but she was someone’s expendable fighting bitch. Too bad her tough girl act these last twelve months had been just that—an act. She’d had it with pretending and she’d wanted to be the real thing. Instead, she’d cracked as easily as her ribs.

“Get out.” The rougher voice belonged to Frey, the Pack’s second-in-command because her Alpha, Leif, couldn’t be bothered to evict her himself. He’d collected her from the pits because he’d bitten her and that made her his responsibility—to kill, to breed, or to keep—but apparently he’d tired of her presence. Frey’s face wavered through the tears burning her eyes. She never cried. Or begged, whined or submitted. When his hands gathered her up, fisting the front of her thin T-shirt, air leaked out of her lungs and made short work of her defiance. That last kick had broken something.

Never beg.

Negotiate. Demand.

Big boots pounded closer and Ake’s roar of pain as a bigger, meaner werewolf schooled him was followed by Even’s rough growl. Reinforcements—of a sort—had arrived.

“Since when is put her out code for half kill her?” Even bellowed the question, but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he laid into Ake and Frey, dealing out a punishment of his own.

She’d always liked Even and, if she’d been fucking Santa Claus, she’d have put him down on the nice list. He wasn’t precisely savior material, but he didn’t want her dead yet. Her instincts said he was going to challenge their Alpha before long. Too bad she wouldn’t be here to see it. She’d have enjoyed watching Leif go down.

She laughed, although oh look the broken sound wasn’t fooling anyone. Pressing down on the snow, she managed to turn her head, welcoming the small bite of cold in her cheek as she swiped at the blood trickling from her mouth.

She’d protested when Leif had started laying out his plans to take down Odin. Because a flat-out assault on the god was such a good idea. The entire paranormal world had it in for the werewolves because of the damned prophecy predicting the wolves would kill Odin and set off Ragnarök. She didn’t have any particular feelings about Odin, but going after the man when the entire world was watching for it was suicidal. Leif’s grandiose plans would destroy her Pack. Saying as much, however, had made Tyra persona non grata because Leif didn’t want anything but blind obedience to his master plan and Tyra had never learned how to submit anyhow. So, okay. She’d work with what she had. Stupidity and defiance.

She shoved her palm against the snowpack, ignoring the red-hot pain in her wrist. Bone grated on bone, but got the hold-you-upright job done. It was barely dawn now and her kind could only shift at night, leaving her a good seventeen hours of sunlight to enjoy her injuries before her nightly shift healed the worst of her wounds.  The closer they got to the summer solstice, the longer the days grew. Now in May, with the sun rising at five a.m. and setting at ten p.m., the midnight sun was her friend.

“Let’s make a deal.” Other Packs might exist out there somewhere, but this one was hers. Leaving sucked. She shoved her hair out of her face and mentally debated the feasibility of trying to stand up. She didn’t crawl in front of men. Ever. Not surprisingly, Even looked like he hoped she’d reconsider her stance on begging, but too bad, so sad. Leif had taught her that the first rule of surviving Pack life was never backing down from a battle. If she eased up now and pulled out the tears and the pleading, she’d spend the rest of her not inconsiderable life span beneath the boots of Ake and Frey. Not to mention their dicks and their bodies. Nightmare. A gal had to have standards. Leif’s bite might have erased most of her memories of life before the Pack, but she knew that much about herself. She had standards.

Even cursed and moved between her and the other two men. He’d always had a hero complex. If it didn’t get him killed, he’d make a damned fine Alpha. Life in the Pack might even be tolerable under his protection. Usually, he was a big, rough man who didn’t say much, although right now he had protective written all over his face. Still, she wasn’t his type and he already had a female in his keeping, breeding. He’d let her go because he couldn’t afford to take on Leif today.

“We don’t deal with outcasts.” Frey cupped his balls, massaging the package like his manly parts were some kind of prize. Wrong. “Unless you’re asking for a final farewell fuck.”

So, okay, there was plenty about the Pack she wouldn’t miss. In her twelve months here, she’d never learned to submit and it looked like today wasn’t her day to start. She waved a middle finger at them, a picture being worth a thousand words. Ake’s angry rumble started up, right on cue, reminding her that obscenity had probably not been her smartest move but sometimes a girl had to make a stand.

“Inside,” Even snapped to the Alpha’s muscle men, jerking a thumb toward the collection of turf huts and tents that made up their lair. Any passing human would take one look at the motley collection and decide arctic research station. More than clever cover on Leif’s part of Leif, the tents were the unexpected bonus of his violent takeover of the camp from their previous occupants. The original researchers were now polar bear food, the Pack moving into their place and barely surviving themselves, relying on subsistence hunting and the occasional burglary to get by.

Ake and Frey weren’t bright. Brawny, yes, which guaranteed them a decent place in the Pack’s hierarchy. They were Leif’s enforcers and more than happy to do his dirty work. They actually hesitated, clearly debating whether or not the two of them could take down Even. The answer to which was: hel, no. Even, for all his good guy outside, was a vicious fighter.  Ake and Frey came to the smart conclusion, turned, and stomped back toward the tents.

Good riddance. Her last glimpse of the unhappy duo was of their parka-covered asses disappearing into the biggest, baddest tent, where Leif had set up court. Leif wasn’t rocking a Four Seasons either, but his tent had been a relatively safe spot to lay her head. Unfortunately, she had a taste for luxuries—and Pack life meant sleeping bags, Coleman lanterns, and peeing behind a bush. The lack of furnishings made it easy to move around their territory but she’d kill for a bed.

And that was clearly out of the question tonight.

“Shit, girl.” Rough affection leaked into Even’s voice as he squatted down beside her and handed over a pack and a parka. Thanks to him she wouldn’t freeze to death before nightfall. April in Greenland was still colder than shit, even if spring had finally started making its presence known. Next time, she needed to get bitten by a tropical werewolf, one from Tahiti or Hawaii.

She rolled to her feet, allowing his big hands to guide her upright. “I meant what I said.”

Even shook his head. “Alpha won’t negotiate on this. He said go and that’s your only choice.”

At least he pretended it was her choice and not an ultimatum.

“Then it’s a damned shame he’s the Alpha.” When she met Even’s eyes, his brief, terse nod said he got her subtext. He’d work it out and fight for the Pack leadership, but not in time to help her today. The glaring white expanse of flat snowscape was downright pretty with the sunlight bouncing off the ice-crystals and lending the illusion of warmth, but she knew there was nothing but predators out there. If a polar bear didn’t chow down on her ass, she’d freeze or starve.

“Ragnarök’s coming, no matter what Leif does. All of the Norse Gods will be riding our asses hard, out for blood.” Ragnarök, the Norse Armageddon, had been prophesied millennia ago.  The seers claimed a werewolf would kill Odin, bringing about the onset of Ragnarök. That legacy had become insta-excuse for the rest of the Norse world to enslave her people.  The wolves, however, were certain they’d get the job done and they’d seen signs of an impending (and successful) assassination. Not only had Leif bitten her and changed her into a werewolf, but he’d pitchforked her into the losing side in a cosmic game of office politics.

Even looked unconcerned by what might or might not be coming down the political pipeline at the Pack. Of course, he had his own power play to effect, so he probably didn’t give piss-all about their gods. “Odin’s not dead yet, for all Leif’s scheming.”

True enough. She was still appalled that their Alpha actually believed he could take on the god and win—let alone trigger the end of the world. She chewed on that while she zipped and buttoned. “Not yet doesn’t mean not ever. You and I both know it’s coming. It’s going to be us or them. All hel’s going to break loose.”

“Pretty much.” Even tugged the hood up over her head. “You know where you’re headed?”

That was when she had her light bulb moment and realized she might actually have found herself an escape clause. “What if I brought back help?”

Even shook his head. “I fight my own battles.”

She wished Leif could witness the hard glint in Even’s eyes. There was definitely a challenge in their Alpha’s not-too-distant future.

“A second lieutenant,” she suggested, scrambling for the sell. “Not to take down Leif, but some bad ass muscle to help us stand against the gods and anyone else who thinks it’s open season on the wolves because Ragnarök must be averted at all costs and yadda yadda?”

“Who?” Even sounded downright unconvinced. He’d always preferred to work alone. “What fighters do you know in the other Packs, sweetling?”

Of course, they also both knew that her mouth tended to get the best of her. She never knew when to shut up. But…this could work. She knew it.

Think.

“My mate,” she said, pulling the words out of thin air and desperation.

“Uh-huh.” This time, Even didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. “And he would be?”

“A Viking. A Berserker.” She didn’t know too much about the near-immortal berserkers, but the little she did know from her pit-fighting days said the males were the perfect warrior breed to stand by her side and help her kick some Alpha ass. After all, her Viking neighbor had won every single pit match during their Vegas days. She didn’t remember too much of her own fights, but she’d heard that he’d been paired against the most vicious and deadly fighters. Plus, everyone knew that Odin was downright scared of the crazy fighters Loki had created. He’d been testing them, or so the grapevine claimed. He wanted to know for certain whether or not they were hot-blooded, unstoppable killers without an iota of mercy in them. She was fairly certain she knew how those tests had turned out.

The Vikings had a kill count that made the werewolves in her Pack look like lapdogs.

Even smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed his mouth against the bruise on her cheekbone. Sweet warmth followed the dull ache of pain. That was life. Everything had a price—and a side of hurt.

“The Vikings don’t work for free and I’ve never met one who’d do it for love. Who’s going to pay their price?”

“I am.” Somehow. No idea, honestly, but something would come to her. The universe owed her that much.  Her Viking’s face flashed through her thoughts. He’d been helpful, with a side of surly. Maybe she could convince him to do it again…

Even stepped away from her, crunching over the snow toward the row of snowmobiles lined up on the outer edge of their camp. Keys flashed as he tossed her a set. Their Alpha would take that act of generosity out of his flesh later. She couldn’t afford to regret the ride, however, as it was her only hope of making it to the berserkers’ keep. Their particular corner of Greenland came with no roads and no public transit, which was undoubtedly why the Vikings hadn’t bothered to conceal the presence of their keep. Covering the four hundred miles between the Pack’s lair and the Vikings’ keep would have been impossible on foot.

She had no idea what she’d find at the keep. Her Viking could be dead. Or perhaps surly and unhelpful was his usual modus operandi and the side of sweet he’d shown her was an incarceration-induced aberration.

He could be AWOL.

Taking a vacation.

Off raiding and pillaging and unable to RSVP to her end-of-the-world free-for-all.

A thousand and one things could have happened to him in the last twelve months and it was even possible that there was more than one gang of Viking Berserkers in the world. Even if it seemed to her like the paranormal world simply wasn’t large enough to survive two such gangs, she could be heading toward a dead end. There was only one way to find out.

“Stay away,” Even said roughly. “Go into town and hole up there. There’s money in the jacket pocket. Give me a couple of weeks before you come back. Things will change. You don’t like the rough sex here, but whoever you find out there isn’t going to give you better.”

The bite had changed her in more ways than one. Although she had only fuzzy memories of life pre-bite, her body recognized that the rough, dominating sex of the Pack was something new. It wasn’t so bad, but it was also never enough for her new werewolf libido. She seemed to have an empty hole in her body that no cock had filled. So much for sexual experimentation, right? At least now she knew what she didn’t like—even if she was still looking for the right guy to help her figure out her like list.

You betcha. She swung a leg over the seat, gripping the handlebars in her gloved hands. Catch a Viking. Catch a break. How hard could it be?

***

The bride was doing the glowing thing again. Calder’s brother beamed, a silly ass grin stretching his face as he leaned down to plant a kiss on Pure’s mouth and she beamed right back at him, clearly satisfied with being imprisoned in a Viking’s arms. Vikar had gone a-Viking and saved the Valkyrie a few months ago. The rescue mission had apparently then taken a turn for the better, because Vikar and Pure had been an item ever since. Now, they were permanently hitched.

Good for them and pass.

Calder wasn’t interested in finding a mate of his own. He had plenty of opportunities for sex and mayhem without resorting to happily ever after and a wedding band. The loony look on Pure’s face announced that Vikar would always have a home and a homecoming with her—and Calder could admit that was one hell of a promise, even if it wasn’t one he himself had any intention of making to a lover.

He was happy for his brother, he really was. Even if weddings made his feet itch and his eyes roll back in his head. Calder fought the urge to bang his own head against the keep wall and waved off the drinking horn headed his way. Once he got the horn in his hands, he’d be honor bound to drink the damn thing down to the bottom. Getting drunk off his ass would certainly put an end to this wedding for him personally, but driving would also be off-limits then and he had escape plans to put into motion.

Going a-Viking had never looked better.

“You plan to be the next?” Rad elbowed him hard, grabbing the horn and upending it. Apparently, getting shitfaced figured prominently on the other Viking’s agenda.

While Rad swallowed and the others chanted encouragement, Calder considered his options. He had no need of a wife. Weddings had been contracts when he was born and a means of forging alliances. Back then, a man could have two or three wives, in addition to bed slaves. And, unless he was interested in a widow, a woman’s consent to the marriage hadn’t been required, although only a fool who wanted to wake up minus his cock would be that shortsighted. Courtship was also quick, brutal, and bloody if the man took too long in making his proposal. Viking women weren’t known for their patience.

“Calder hasn’t found himself a girl yet.” The blonde-haired Valkyrie perched cross-legged on the banquet table snatched the horn away from Rad and drained off the rest of the mead. His brother’s new in-laws were trouble. Despite the indisputable pretty factor of Pure’s sisters, the girls were also downright deadly.  Calder had no doubt that this one—whatever her name—was every bit as lethal as Pure. She simply looked innocent and looks were indeed deceiving in this case. So what if she’d divided her long blonde hair into hundreds of braids that made a man fantasize about fisting the mane? She had gorgeously dark, smoky eyes, and a pair of soft lips that lured a man into a kiss…while the Valkyrie attached to the mouth sliced off his balls.

Or wedded him.

Which option was worse?

The Valkyrie closest to him unkinked her booted legs and rested her heels on his lap. She’d apparently decided that appropriate wedding attire meant leather pants and a corset top with wicked strings that crisscrossed her chest. It was the kind of get-up that one good pull would undo.

And yet he didn’t want to make a move on her.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He risked another look at the bridal couple. Var didn’t seem to mind his current predicament. As the assembled guests roared their approval, he angled a hand in his new bride’s hair and kissed her. He didn’t look like he’d be sharing, either, which was too bad.  Whether the other Valkyries would be up for some good times likely depended on whether or not they’d traded in their virginities. A virgin Valkyrie was fated to serve Odin in the god’s mystical hall. Pure had snapped those particular chains, however, when she’d invited Vikar into her bed and Calder got the impression that her sisters were also in the market for similar trouble. The Viking keep definitely had strange guests these days. Next thing he knew, they’d be inviting Fenrir and his lupine children into the place as well and the neighborhood would finish going to hell.

“Remove,” he growled, flicking the offending boots with his fingers.

The Valkyrie snickered. “You going to make me, bad boy?”

“Not tonight.” He was bored. And antsy. Once he got outside and got moving, he’d be fine.

“Oooh, promises.” Her moue of regret said she’d happily find someone else to play with if he wasn’t in a playing kind of mind.

He shoved to his feet and pointed his boots toward the door. Something shifted in the shadows as he moved. Some kind of dog? Mayhap he’d had more mead than he realized. Instincts on high alert, he slid a hand to his knife. Golden eyes glared briefly at him from the dark edges of the hall. They kept no dogs.

Hel.

Dawn was upon them and the light could play tricks on a man. And yet…he would have sworn he’d seen a dog. A large dog. There was nothing there in the shadows, however, which simply underscored his unspoken belief. He was a fool. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the truth hung out in his head, laughing at him. With a wave of his hand, he headed for the door.

“You’re leaving?” Brent didn’t sound concerned. He had a lapful of Valkyrie, which was a different kind of problem altogether.

“I’m going a-Viking.” That felt like the right decision. He didn’t jump at shadows and imagine four-legged beasts where there were none.

***

Of course the fucking Vikings maintained a near-impregnable keep on a private island. Getting there had been a bitch—Tyra had been forced to abandon her snowmobile at the water’s edge and steal a boat—but the place had hardly hung out a welcome mat. The volcanic action that had formed the island’s hills had created dramatic swoops and lines of harsh, unbending black. Small icebergs floated in the chilly waters, seeking out the precariously thin aluminum sides of her borrowed kayak with deadly accuracy. It was the kind of place reached by snowmobile, chopper or dog sled. How convenient for her that she’d exercised Option A and got here just before sundown and her shift.

She’d slipped inside the keep still in her wolf form. When she’d glanced at the sky on her way in, she’d estimated she had maybe a half hour tops before the sun rose and she shifted back into her human form. The good news was that most of Frey’s parting gift damage had been healed by her shift. The bad news was that she’d be naked. In a keep full of hostile, hopefully lecherous Vikings.

She was still holding out for the Four Seasons, but this place wasn’t bad. It was, in fact, light years more comfortable than the tent city her Pack currently inhabited. Despite a forbidding exterior that shouted fuck off and keep going, the inside was warm. Deliciously warm. She’d been cold for so long that she’d forgotten there were places like this. Someone had clearly been shopping since the Dark Ages (or, knowing these guys, had boosted a department store or a few shipping containers). The place was man cave extraordinaire, all leather couches, big screen T.V.s, and thick throw rugs.

The best part, however, was the man selection.

God, the Vikings were a sexy bunch. Her wolf slinked closer to the banquet hall where the Vikings were making merry, sticking to the shadows as she staked out her prey. It went without saying that they were big, brutal men. Loki hadn’t been fucking around when he created these bad boys to serve as his warrior pack. None of them clocked in at less than six feet tall and apparently broad shoulders, ripped chests, and raw, naked power were part of the standard package.

So naturally her wolf acted like a kid in a candy shop, picking and choosing men like she could handle one. Two. A half-dozen. From the look of the Valkyries’ faces, they shared her fascination.

Or her frustration because, she had to face it, her sex life in the Pack had sucked. She’d been at the bottom of the Pack hierarchy from the get-go and her own inability to submit and shut the fuck up had sealed the deal. And, hello, that had meant instant sexual starvation so the man candy choices currently on display were all too tempting. Her pulse banged in her ears as heat swept her body.

All she had to do was take a Viking and make him her mate. The option was far better than freezing or selling herself to the pit fighters, plus she’d never be powerless again. From the looks of things, the Vikings were having themselves a wedding, so that took one of her choices off the market. She wasn’t an idiot. No one kept a mated Viking away from his bride and she wouldn’t doom her mission from the get-go.

Never mind too that the Vikings would likely kill her on the spot for being one of Fenrir’s. Eeenie meanie miney…

Mine.

Mr. Surly had come to the wedding after all. Her memories of her life pre-Change faded more and more with each passing day and although her new female Pack mates had assured her the mental erasure was a blessing—since Pack life didn’t compare well—she’d discovered that meant her new replacements memories took up disproportionately more space in her head.

And her Viking was a very, very large memory indeed.

Part beast, part man, he was perfect. The wolf recognized a potential mate when it saw one—and whined to stake a claim. Even with his clothes on, she still recognized him. He’d passed on the wedding tuxedo wear business for a biker boy gone bad look that made his large body look like it had been gift-wrapped for her pleasure in black leather pants and some kind of soft shirt. A leather jacket hung on the back of his chair.

His eyes slewed toward the door, a faint air of desperation on his face. His hands flexed, grabbing the edge of the banquet table. She wanted to tongue each inky tattoo on those forearms. Lick him from head to foot and everywhere in between. And not just because he was the most drop-dead gorgeous male she could remember. Shit. This part of being a werewolf was downright inconvenient. She stared at him and her body heated as she imagined a thousand decadent pleasures. His tongue licking her honeypot and stabbing her rear hole. His fingers plugging her deep as he rode her hard. She liked—craved—the raw edge of violence, the dark, dirty need of Pack sex. She wasn’t a nice girl, couldn’t be demure, submissive Pack female—unless her lover made her…and her Pack lovers hadn’t been interested in what she wanted or needed.

He looked up, his gaze unerringly finding her.

She was good. She was careful. Given the skills she’d learned during her stay with the Pack, it was flat-out impossible that he’d made her.

And yet…

He shoved to his feet, his gaze holding hers.

The sun came up as she glared back at him, daring him to come and get her. Even though she couldn’t see the light, she knew the precise moment the sun crossed the horizon.  Tremors shook her body, her bones breaking and muscles re-shaping as she shed her wolf and became human again. She battled the clashing instincts and bolted for the cloakroom she’d spotted on her way in.

Behind her, her berserker was earning no points for subtlety. He left the banquet hall as loudly and, from her retreat, she heard him declare his intention of going a-Viking when one of his companions asked him where he was headed. If he left the island, she lost him. There were plenty more Vikings inside the keep but…she wanted him. Had been hoping to find him here when she came shopping for a Viking. One of his companions bellowed curses and farewells and the profane tirade gave her a name. Calder. They hadn’t even traded names in Vegas. How sad was that?

She finished her transformation and lay panting on the floor. She’d come a long way from her first mindless shifts in Vegas. Now, even in her animal form, she knew what she was doing—and remembered when she shifted. Unfortunately, she’d yet to uncover some secret werewolf trick that would let her clothes shift with her. Instead, she lay naked on the floor, shivering as her bare skin pressed against the cold tiles. Her one souvenir of her twelve months with the wolves was the black and gold rune patterns tattooed down her spine and over her belly.

Freya’s tits, but the Vikings’ keep was cold. A gallon of ice cream wouldn’t melt in the cloakroom and she was buck-ass naked and well on her way to hypothermia. Fortunately, her hidey-hole came with a modest selection of winter outwear. She rifled quickly through a rack, but most of the jackets clearly belonged to the Vikings themselves and proved to be miles too long. Someone had left a suitcase in the room, however, and raiding it proved more promising. Given that the case was bright red plastic with a sassy Valkyries ride you harder bumper sticker plastered on the outside shell, she had a bad feeling she’d just robbed one of the bride’s guests. If she was lucky, she’d be off the island long before the other woman realized her loss.

Her only semi-feasible option turned out to be a blue mini-dress with white feathers. The thing was too froufrou for her taste, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d stashed her pack with her snowmobile on the shore before crossing to the Vikings’ island. The Valkyrie had even been thoughtful enough to stash a supply of panties in the side pocket with—thank God—the tags still on. After twelve months of Pack life, her standards were lower than she’d ever believed possible, but even she had to draw the line somewhere. She shimmied into her finds while looking for boots. A pair of sneakers. Hell, she’d take four-inch stilettos at this point if it meant not crossing the keep’s courtyard on her bare feet. Unfortunately, her victim had disgustingly small feet, though—no shoes for the thieving werewolf who wore a size ten.

The keep door slammed. Finite amount of time here so keep your mind on the job, Tyra. Giving up on finding footwear, she scanned the hallway. No Vikings in sight, oh heavenly day. From the sounds of things, the wedding banquet would continue for most of the day and probably all night as well. The Vikings definitely knew how to throw a party. Calder, however, was still as much of a buzz kill as he had been in Las Vegas. He stomped toward the garage on the other side of the keep’s main courtyard, clearly planning a getaway.

“Fucking cold.” He sounded about as happy as she was. Yay for having things in common. “I’m going a-Viking in the South Pacific.”

Yeah. She seconded that motion. The cold sucked.

Her feet were icicles, but a last glance around the cloakroom turned up no magically present size ten boots. Judging by the weak sunlight filtering into the keep, she still had more than a few hours to convince Calder to play for the werewolf team.

Once she shifted back? Game over.

2

The keep was too goddamned crowded. The garage where his brothers stored their snowmobiles, on the other hand, was blessedly empty. Cursing, Calder yanked the cover off his machine. Vikar might have brought home a mate, but his Valkyrie chosen came with plenty of feminine baggage. Laughing, talking, teasing feminine baggage.

He’d ride, he decided. Go back to his place on the far side of the island and plot out a course to go a-Viking. He’d never be like Vikar, settling down, happy to stick to one place, one bed. One woman.

Truly, he was okay with that.

And if for one insane, suicidal moment thoughts of a pretty white wolf flashed through his head, he wasn’t admitting it.

“Viking.”

His head jerked around like a very female someone had him on a leash. The smoky feminine voice greeting him from the shadows was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, low and sensual. Sure. Familiar.  He’d met this woman in the same place Vikar had met Pure—in the paranormal fight pits hidden beneath Las Vegas.

For a moment, he figured he was hallucinating, her voice simply part of his aberrant thoughts. No way his little werewolf had made it all the way to Greenland on her own—or onto his private island. So he might have flipped the latch on her cell when he’d followed his brothers out of the pit, but that had been as much help as he could give her. He’d certainly never expected to see her again.

She smiled like she was goddamned happy to see him and that made him suspicious. He hadn’t been nice to her. The weak died and the pit ate the nice for dinner. Anyone there could kill—it had simply been a question of would. Strangely, he hadn’t wanted to see her go down fast. He’d wanted her to fight. And then Vikar had spotted a weak link, an opening in the pit keepers’ guard, and the Vikings had busted out.

To be here, she’d snuck onto the island, breeching all of the Vikings’ defenses. She hadn’t gone knocking on the front door. She hadn’t announced her presence. Sneaky meant one thing and one thing only.

Enemy combatant.

He pinned her against the wall before she could get another word out, his knife at her throat. She curled her fingers around his wrist, stroking the tattoos on his forearm rather than pushing him away. When she gave a little wriggle, cradling his misbehaving dick between her hips, he leaned into her harder, giving her his weight. She was a werewolf and an enemy combatant. So what if he might have cracked the lock on her cage in Vegas?

He pressed her into the wall. She escaped if—and only if—he said so. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to be your new boss, Calder.” She spoke the words with confidence, tipping her head back and letting her throat graze his blade.

Her time in the Vegas fighting pits had driven her crazy. Pity. Now that he had her up close and personal, he was certain she wasn’t on his island as one of Vikar’s wedding guests. Her barely-there blue mini-dress skimmed the tops of her thighs and the way it plunged in the front made it clear that she was all but buck-ass naked beneath. Little white feathers stuck up along the edges of the vee, brushing the pretty skin of her breasts. There was no accounting for taste, but she was beautiful. On the other hand, her body didn’t precisely melt into his, so she didn’t share the pleasure he felt pressed up against her. Instead, she tensed beneath him, like she truly didn’t know if he’d fuck her or kill her.

Well, shit. How much trouble was she in that she’d come here, not knowing that?

“You’re not in charge here, sweetling.”

“No? And my name is Tyra. Not sweetling or sugar or honey boo.” She made the words a challenge.

He pressed his leg between hers, forcing her legs wide around his. She met his challenge by hooking a foot around his waist. Her foot was cold. He wrapped a hand around the chilly arch and rubbed, drinking in her whimper of appreciation.

“Try again. Why are you really here?”

Her gaze didn’t so much as flicker. She had gold-brown eyes with long lashes. Not a visible hint of deception there, but looks could be deceiving. He’d been tricked once, coming off that battlefield in Africa, and he’d never be anyone’s pawn again. He set his own price, picked his own battles.

“You’re a mercenary and that means you’re for sale.” Her cool gaze flicked over him. “Good. I want to buy you.”

She’d almost mastered the tough girl act.

“Sweetling, you can’t afford me.” Plus, he wasn’t for sale. Not at the moment.

She still looked like a fucking college co-ed. Name a few sexual demands, he figured, and she’d run off with her tail between her legs. He had no idea where she’d spent the last twelve months, but she wasn’t ready for him. Or his brothers.

“Not with money.” She arched up against him. “I was thinking more along the lines of a trade.”

“How badly do you want me?” He growled his questions into her ear. No bars. This time, he could feel every soft brush of her body against his. The only thing hard here was him. Yeah. That was going to be a surprise for his little werewolf.

She arched up against him, her mouth inches from his. “Give me more words, Viking.”

“Would you do anything?” His lips brushed hers, testing the delicate flesh. Twelve months as a werewolf hadn’t hardened her up any.

“You are all in.” This time, he heard the approving note in her voice. Maybe the rumors about Pack life were true. There were rumors of ménage and no-holds-barred group sex. Some people like that a whole lot. He didn’t think he was imagining the shadow in her eyes, however. He didn’t want the act. He wanted the real deal, the real woman, so some things needed to be made real clear between them.

“Answer me.”

“I’ll be yours in bed if you’re mine on the battlefield.”

Blunt enough even for him.

He shook his head. “You’ll be honest with me. If you don’t want me, you say so. You want sex, I’m happy to give it to you. You don’t want me, you tell me to back the fuck off.”

She blinked. Yeah, he’d surprised her. But, Christ, he was a big man and he didn’t want to hurt her. This was about pleasure, not pain. Mostly. Contrary to Viking legends, he didn’t rape and he didn’t go where he wasn’t invited.

Since she’d claimed to be on board with the sex plan, however, he figured he’d do a little testing of his own. He fisted her hair, wrapping the long strands around his hand as he bent her over the snowmobile. Just to test her willingness to obey, he told himself, because before she’d been fierce, without an inch of give in her.

He tugged her panties down, leaving the scrap of fabric twisted around her thighs. “Bend over the seat and raise your ass.”

She turned her head until she could see his face, but she didn’t move from where he’d put her. “Why?”

He didn’t answer her. Couldn’t. Her panties were soaked with her juices. She was dripping for him, glistening with a need that both surprised and pleased him.

“You sure you want to do this, Viking?”

“Hel, yeah.”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

***

Calder hooked one big finger in the band of her stolen panties, tugging them lower. The silky fabric dropped lower, rasping erotically over her thighs in a soft, barely there caress. Then he stopped.

Damn him, but she wanted more. She wanted to be completely naked and spread out for his pleasure. If he told her what to do, what she wanted, then it all became so easy. The burn of shame was almost as strong as that of her arousal. She wasn’t supposed to want this, this helpless pleasure where everything good came from his hands. She was supposed to be able to take care of her pleasure herself.

And yet he made it shockingly, deliciously easy to submit.

“Tilt your ass up,” he repeated.

She couldn’t do what he asked, there was no way, and yet the throb in her pussy demanded she give in because he wouldn’t make this easy.

“If you don’t want to play, we’re done here.” He paused and, oh God, he’d do it. He’d walk away and leave her here. She hadn’t realized she’d come here for this, the touching part of things, as much as for her Pack. Her Pack needed her to succeed while she needed Calder.

Obediently, she tilted her butt up, face burning. With her head buried in her arms, face hidden, it was easier. Easier to pretend that she did this because she needed his help and she was paying his price—and not that his sure confidence or the scent of leather and motor oil got her off. He could do it too. Heat pulsed through her at the dirty thoughts tumbling through her head, making her squirm. She could smell her own arousal, which meant he could too.

“You like this. Is it me or is it being helpless?”

Both.

His hand spanked her butt when she didn’t answer, a little, sharp tap that left a cherry mark on her pale skin. Or so she imagined. She gasped, thinking about it, feeling the heated tingle on the surface of her skin, but she also pushed up into his touch. They both knew how much she liked it.

“Naughty girl.” His raspy chuckle filled her ear. “That’s barely a tap and you’re creaming.”

She rocked into his touch, her pussy fitting against his hand like she’d been made for him. She should have been embarrassed. Instead, she felt…excited. Aroused. Her only choice was whether or not she’d play the game with him.

He rewarded her, his fingers sliding up her needy slit to circle her clit.

“Do something.” She’d spent the last twelve months looking for something, for someone to ease the emptiness and uncertainty she felt inside. Now here he was and she was desperate to ease the ache.

“Uh-uh. My rules,” he said roughly. He dragged his fingers down her slit and she moaned. When his fingers landed on her clit in a small, stinging slap, she shrieked, a loud, broken, needy sound because he made her feel so good. She pushed her toes into the ground, lifting her ass in silent demand for more.

He peppered her pussy with more small slaps. A heated bloom of pleasure followed each bright sting of pain. Staying quiet was impossible, her gasps overlaying the juicy sounds of wetness. She could move away, close her legs. Both were options but the pleasure-pain filled up an empty spot inside her and how could she resist?

There was no one here but them. No Pack. No judging eyes. She opened her legs wider, her thighs straining against the fragile fabric of her panties. She needed more. He made it okay for her to submit, because it was a game and he would take care of her. He wouldn’t hurt her.

“This doesn’t count,” she gasped. “My giving in to you like this.”

When they left this place, she’d still be in charge of her rescue mission, even if she’d handed over her body to her Viking.

“Not a chance,” he countered, his palm pressed against her clit in a hard, possessive touch. “You like this too much. You’re my naughty girl.”

She did, oh she did, and she was.

“Come for me and I’ll give you what you want,” he growled.

“I have to beg you to take me?” She didn’t do words, didn’t submit out loud. But she also didn’t move either.

His harsh breathing filled her ears. He wasn’t unaffected.

“All right,” he said. “You can come.”

She didn’t know if he meant that literally, or if he had something dirtier in mind. But he shoved her panties down all the way, freeing her legs, so she could squeeze him tight. She hated uncertainty. Since Calder dealt only in black and white, they ought to get along just fine.

“Please.” Her plea hung in the air between them. “Hard. Now.”

She couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait and he understood, ramming three fingers inside her. Delicious roughness. Fullness where she needed it. He hooked a finger and rubbed the sensitive skin of her channel. She came with a long moan, clenching his fingers between her thighs. So good, although there was nothing dignified about it. She was sweaty and twisting, coming apart beneath his hands until she was a boneless mess draped across the seat of his snowmobile and already thinking about the next time.

“And I’ll think about the job,” he growled, his fingers still buried deep inside her throbbing pussy.

Oh, thank God. She had him.

3

She wanted to hire him.

She’d come riding his fingers and hollering like a Valkyrie, and Calder didn’t want to talk jobs or prices. Instead, he wanted to be buried balls-deep inside her, doing some yelling of his own. He carefully slid his fingers out of her sweet pussy and took a step back.

Whatever dirty job Tyra had that needed doing wouldn’t be worth any price she could pay. Werewolf politics were brutal and discussion meant beating the shit out of anyone weaker or slower. The Packs also owned a reputation for communal living and nightly orgies and damned if he was going to flaunt the erection that thought gave him. He could all too easily imagine her pretty body being taken by one, two or even three of her pack mates. Mouths on her breasts, her pretty pussy. Fingers taking her, stroking her higher. And…he needed to stop. He’d enjoyed his share of group sex, but what the Packs got up to was something else. There was an unmistakably rough edge to their pleasures. The wolves wouldn’t care if Tyra enjoyed herself or not.

Hel.

He didn’t like the thought of her hurt and bleeding, but it wasn’t his business. He should toss her off his island and go a-Viking as he had planned. Tyra was a wolf shifter. She’d snuck into his territory, begging for trouble. Whatever problems she had were none of his business.

“You like me.” Brown eyes twinkled mischievously up at him as she sat up and grabbed her panties from the ground, daring him to contradict her. The last time he’d seen her, her eyes had been filled with pain and horror. She’d done some growing up since her pit-fighting nights and he didn’t know what to do now, other than get in her face.

“Do not,” he growled, sounding for all the world like a surly two-year-old.

“Girls can tell these things.” She patted him on the arm like he was the Easter bunny and not a seven-foot-tall Viking who outweighed her two to one. The girl had a death wish or at the very least no common sense.

He unscrewed the gas tank cap and grabbed the red plastic can. Five gallons would more than get him where he was going. The familiar scents of gas and WD40 filled the air.

She hopped onto a counter and he tried to pretend that her new position didn’t drive him crazy. She crossed one long leg over another, her ankle kicking at the counter because sitting still wasn’t something she did well. Some things didn’t change. She still smelled impossibly good, like peaches and sunshine, her dark hair falling around her face like she didn’t have a care in the goddamned world. When had she learned to act like that?

When he didn’t say anything, just got on with his business of gas and go, she broke the silence. “You’re efficient. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not yours.” He bit off the word yet. She made him want to break all his rules. While he chewed on that, he checked the oil tank.

“I have a map.” She sounded hopeful, something else that hadn’t changed. She’d been a look on the bright side person. On the other hand, he had been and still was a surly bastard. “We can hit the road and take care of my job.”

“Not interested.” Capping the gas tank, he flicked the key in the ignition to start warming the engine up. Breaking a drive-belt in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t improve his day any. When he pulled the garage door open, a blast of arctic air hit him. A small drift of snow built on the concrete floor.

Tyra made a small sound and tucked her feet beneath her, wincing. Was she broken? She’d propositioned him. She hadn’t mentioned injuries. Had he hurt her when he’d pleasured her? It was the work of a minute to stride over to her and yank her robe away from her body. And, yeah, he enjoyed it, too. He’d never pretended to be civilized.

“Hey.” She batted at him with her hands. “It’s not like we’re dating. One orgasm does not a relationship make, so hands off.”

He ignored her protests, tamped down the lust, and checked her out. Stripes of yellow and purple bruises banded her ribs. Werewolves healed fast. Last night, these had been broken ribs. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do for her now, other than offer her a fucking aspirin. And revenge.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Who did this to you?”

“Pack,” she admitted and his growl echoed off the walls of the garage. This kind of crap was why the Packs needed to be stamped out of existence. He’d have been happy to live and let live, but then the stupid bastards went and laid hands on someone they should only have dreamed of touching.

“Is this part of your problem?” His voice came out gruff and surly.

“Yeah.” She yanked her robe closed. “You ever consider moving your keep to Bora Bora? Because I’d vote for tropical island over arctic iceberg.”

She was cold. That much he could fix. Carefully, he lifted her down off the counter. Jumping with those ribs was now on the forbidden list.

“Stay,” he snapped and stomped off to the closet. He left her spitting and hissing, because apparently she didn’t like commands any more than he did…except when she was getting her rocks off. Which was too bad for her. If he had to be saddled with a werewolf—this particular werewolf—he planned on giving her lots of commands. Both in bed and out. Still, when he returned two minutes later with an armload of leather and fur, she’d stayed put.

Mostly. She was bent over the snowmobile, fiddling with the gauges. He didn’t know if her backup plan was to steal a ride, but it wasn’t like she could get far on an island. She was a werewolf. They were avaricious thieves, but he liked giving her things.

He thrust the stack of clothes at her. “Here. For you.”

“Presents?” Her face lit up like it was fucking Christmas morning. She ran her fingers over the leather, a look of sensual pleasure softening her face.

“If you freeze, you’re no good to me.”

She nodded. “Got it. Popsicles are past their use by date.” She stroked her fingers over the leather one more time and then shimmied into the clothes. The leather pants and boots were a good fit since she and Pure were the same size. The long-sleeved shirt was too big, but it was his and he liked seeing her in it. The parka he’d found for her had one of those ridiculous fake fur ruffs, which was still an improvement on the mini-dress’s white feathery stuff. She looked feminine and pretty. Okay. Downright fucking gorgeous, if he was honest.

She had pale skin for a werewolf who only shifted into human form during the daylights. The long black hair hung around her face, but the dark curtain couldn’t conceal the purple shadows underneath her eyes. She looked tired. His guilty pleasure back in their pit days had been stroking her hair, her fur. Either or both were the prettiest damn stuff he’d ever touched. He now knew that the tuft of hair between her thighs was every bit as silky soft.

Hel. He was in so much trouble here.

“Get on.” He swung a leg over the snowmobile and slid back a few inches, making room for her in front of him. He wouldn’t ride with her at his back and no way could he give her a machine of her own.

“Are we taking a fieldtrip?”

He tossed her a pair of gloves that were too big, but she’d have to make do. It wasn’t like he could find a Wal-Mart on the outer edges of Greenland. “You’re the one who wanted to hire me.”

He didn’t care if she came with him or not. If she stayed, he could alert the guards to her presence and responsibility fulfilled. She didn’t hesitate, though. Nope. She slid onto the seat in front of him and leaned back against him until the fur trim on her hood tickled his face.

Trusting her would be suicidal. She had no business lurking around his brothers’ keep and he doubted she was a wedding guest—Vikar’s guest list had been heavily vetted and no one had mentioned a werewolf-inclusive wedding. So he’d secure her while he asked his questions. He snapped a cell phone picture of her and texted it to another berserker. Run her.

“Selfie!” She laughed like her presence on a heavily guarded island was simply not a matter for concern.

He didn’t say anything.

“You don’t trust me.” She mock-pouted and he was pretty damn certain she’d be more at home hitting things. Hitting him despite her delicious submission.

***

“Tell me again what you need.”  The deep rumble of Calder’s voice was reassuringly familiar. Some things hadn’t changed in the last twelve months. Calder still made every word count and getting him to make conversation was like pulling teeth.

“A fighter.” Simple. Succinct. True.

He ran a hand down her arm. The simple touch shouldn’t have turned her on so much. People touched other people’s arms all the time. If she moved two inches left or right, his fingers would fall away. Of course she didn’t move.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Four words. I thought they were pretty simple,” she mocked.

“No. What do you need?”

She had no idea, because she hadn’t found it in the last twelve months.

He kicked the snowmobile into gear, slowly guiding the machine out of the garage bay and into the keep’s inner courtyard. Adrenaline shot through her. She’d channeled her inner Viking and maybe things would be okay. She’d come, she’d seen, she’d…conquered? Still, making her exit now from the keep seemed prudent. Even if the Vikings were okay with a werewolf on the premises, the Valkyrie from whom she’d purloined her new wardrobe was going to have issues. Better not to be hanging around when the other female discovered her loss. Plus, eventually the sun would set and she’d shift back. Calder knew what she was, she reminded herself. When she went furry on him, he wouldn’t be surprised.

But he also wouldn’t be pleased.

She now knew exactly how the Vikings—and the rest of the paranormal world—felt about the werewolves. Her kind was persona non grata. Why he hadn’t killed her when he’d had the chance was a mystery. Leif had certainly been surprised.

Calder drove like a demon, hard and fast. Like he couldn’t stand being trapped inside four walls any more than she could. The sky overhead was blue and clear, the sunlight glinting off the snow. She snuck a peak at him in the mirror. He had his sunglasses and his game face on. He looked grim and determined, but he was also enjoying himself. She was suddenly sure of that much. After being cooped up in the keep, he’d want the rush of fresh air and the freedom of going like hell over the snow in any direction he chose.

It was impossible not to worry about what might be happening to her Pack. Leif was a crazy son-of-a-bitch. Worse, he was vindictive. He’d decided that he was going to be the werewolf who took down Odin, and he was just crazy enough to not worry about what that meant for their Pack. Like it or not, Pack was family now and she valued the connection. Sure, some of the members were the kind you didn’t want to meet up with at Thanksgiving dinner—Ake and Leif came to mind—but there were others. Wolves like Even and the Pack’s few female wolves who’d welcomed her and tried to ease her transition.

It wasn’t the life she’d have picked, but there was no bitching against Fate. From the minute she’d been bitten, her life had done a 180. And there had been good moments to go with the bad. She’d spent more than one sunset curled up by the fire with the girl wolves, welcoming the night and the shift with marshmallows, laughter, and gossip.

Since she couldn’t fix the Pack at the moment, she snuggled back against Calder. He was gloriously warm, making riding with him like having her own portable heater. And he gave good presents. Her beautiful new clothes were a guilty pleasure she had every intention of enjoying.

He was a well-trained killer. He hadn’t survived night after night in the pits without cutting down his opponents ruthlessly. And yet he’d been nice to her. So if he wanted her to be afraid of him, he’d have to try harder.

The cabin seemed to rise up out of nowhere. Perched on the rocky shore of an ice-studded fjord, the wood-sided chalet had a steep roof to shed the snow. White latticed windows looked out over the water. Tyra could easily imagine sitting on the front porch and watching the world go by.

Pulling up in front of the cabin, he killed the motor and let the snowmobile coast to a slow halt. When she tried to hop off, however, he slid an arm around her waist, pinning her in place.

“Okay,” he growled.

God. What was it with Calder and gruff, one word answers? She fought back an urge to elbow him. Pissing off her ride was a bad idea. It was a long walk back to the Vikings’ keep and even further to her own snowmobile. But…okay, they were here? Okay, what?

Clearly satisfied with their non-conversation, however, he swung off the snowmobile, answering that part of her question. He must have meant okay we’re here because he just stood there waiting for her.  Calder was good at that. He waited with the patience of a predator stalking his prey. She’d seen him fight the day the Vikings had busted out of the pit’s holding cells. He’d had that same watchful gaze before he’d exploded into lethal motion.

“It’s okay to use more than word at a time.” She pushed off the snowmobile and crunched over the snow toward the cabin. Tilting her head back, she studied the building. It didn’t scream evil dungeon or dump the werewolf’s body here. It also didn’t seem like a love nest or decadent pied-à-terre. In fact, it looked very much like the kind of place she would have chosen for herself. It was the kind of place you went to be alone and catch your breath, but with a side of comfort. If—when—she got her Pack back, that was one change she planned on making. No more roughing it in dirty campsites.

She looked back at Calder. He hadn’t moved. “Yours?”

“Yes.” Again with the one word answers. She had a feeling, though, that he wasn’t talking about just the hunting cabin. She’d have to do something about that note of possession in his voice. She was a loaner, not a keeper. Playing erotic games with Calder was no hardship, but she was no submissive. Calder, on the other hand, was the kind of man who would insist on being in charge.

“Remind me again,” he rumbled. “Why are you here?”

“I need to hire a fighter.” She’d told him that.

“You said you would pay any price.”

“No. I said I would pay your price.” There was definitely a difference.

He nodded. “Just to be perfectly clear, you’re offering to have sex with me in exchange for my fighting skills.”

“Yes.” See? She could do one-word answers too.

He shook his head. “I don’t buy sex. If you’re in my bed, it’s because you want to be.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” The story of Vikar and Pure was almost legendary. She’d wanted a favor from the Viking leader and he’d made a deal that included seven nights of sex—with both him and his second-in-command Var. From everything she’d heard, Pure had enjoyed that deal.

“I’m not my brothers.”

No. He was—more.

“What do you want then? Cash?” Which would be a problem because she literally didn’t have a dime to her name. It wasn’t like she’d been able to hold down a job since being bitten. Still, his lack of sexual interest stung even if it was par for the course. She wasn’t winning the sexy times sweepstakes in the Pack either.

He ran a hand over his head before walking past her toward the cabin. She followed happily. Big booted feet crunching over the snow were sexy as hell. She’d always loved a man in shitkickers.

“You’ll do, but I want you on my terms.”

Maybe men went out of their way to be confusing? “Again, more words here would be a good thing.”

He pushed open the cabin door. The place wasn’t locked, but who the hell would be out here anyway? Then he stopped and looked at her, arms folded over his chest. And while she picked up on heat and power, there was another emotion else reflected in his gaze that she didn’t recognize. Not affection, but something that had that potential.

“We’re going to have sex. We’re both going to enjoy it.”

“Confident, much?” she muttered, but he kept right on talking.

“You’ll give me everything in bed. I’m not an easy lover. I’ll push you.”

Heat swept through her. God, he was gorgeous. And trouble. He was trouble in spades. She hadn’t thought through her sex-in-exchange-for-strong-arm-assistance plan and she wasn’t sure what she’d imagined. Maybe a little wham bam, thank you ma’am. Or something kinkier. Calder clearly intended to play by a different set of rules.

Her girly bits tightened with arousal. So maybe she’d hoped her Viking could do for her what the Pack’s werewolves hadn’t. If sex with the wolves usually wasn’t bad, she also hadn’t seen fireworks either. Rough and fast could be fun, but she wanted more. Part of her also secretly yearned to submit. To let him take charge.

“Maybe you should consider a blow-up doll,” she suggested. “Easier to order around.”

He stepped inside. “In. Or out.”

She wanted to say yes and that need scared her. Still, she needed to draw the line.

“One thing is non-negotiable. I don’t do submission.”

***

“You can.” She would. If Tyra wanted him to do her job, she’d pay his price. It was that simple. Still, in the interest of compromise, he held out a hand to her. She could take it. Or not.

“This is crazy.”

Yeah. He knew that. She was a werewolf on a suicide mission. He was a Viking berserker. And yet he didn’t seem to have any willpower around her. Imagine that.

“You can,” he repeated.

She shrugged, but she let him tug her into the cabin. “I haven’t to date. Just so we’re clear.”

His cabin was his own space, private from his brothers and the sometimes-chaos at the keep. He’d built the place by hand a century ago and decorated it with wood carvings over the next few decades. In addition to a big stone fireplace, he’d filled the rooms with oversized furniture designed to be comfortable. Right now, however, he only had one destination in mind. Bed.

He led her to the bedroom and nudged the door open with his hip. She didn’t jerk away, although her breathing came faster and harder. “You don’t waste any time do you?”

He never had. He knew what he wanted and he went after it. Tyra.

She was still wearing the parka and at least two other layers—which was far too many clothes for his taste. “Strip.”

“You know, there’s this thing called foreplay.” She flashed a mock-serious face at him as she ditched the parka. He loved her laughter. His brothers made jokes and laughed, but this was different. This felt like her laughter was just for him.

He dropped onto the bed while he waited for her to carry out his instructions. The bed was designed with Viking-sized bodies in mind, a big, hand-carved sleigh-bed piled high with blankets, furs, and an obscene number of pillows. She stared at the soft mountain and was that lust in her eyes for his 400-count sheets?

“Oh, God. This is nice.” She bounced on the bed, grinning as she made snow angels in the covers. “Best. Bed. Ever.”

He added her comment to the running tally he was keeping in his head. Rumor had it that the Packs lived hard-scrabble lives and, so far, he’d seen no evidence to dispute that. “The Pack doesn’t believe in beds?”

She grinned up at him. “God, no. Alpha has a blow up mattress. The rest of us have sleeping bags.”

The room was warm and he wanted her clothes off. In fact, he wanted her naked yesterday.

“I told you to do something,” he said.

“Right.” She chewed on her lip, looking delightfully uncertain. “Is this part of that whole submission thing?”

He wanted…to play with her. She was looking for something she hadn’t found yet. He didn’t know if she’d had a submissive side before she’d become a wolf, but part of her felt lost and confused, like the sexual landscape had changed around her and she didn’t know the rules or particularly like the players. He ached to change that for her. He wanted to mark her, to rub his scent over her, until both the woman and the wolf acknowledged his place in her life and, just possibly, she gave him the same welcome home smile Pure gave his brother.

And…whoa. He had no idea where that desire had come from. This was about sex and pleasure. Nothing else. He made a take it off gesture with his hand. He needed to stop overthinking this.

“Got it.” She grinned at him and stood up on the bed, her feet braced on either side of his legs. She pulled his borrowed shirt over her head, tossing it behind her. She was messy. Impulsive. And she fascinated him. Since he hadn’t been able to find her a bra back at the keep, going shirtless bared her beautiful breasts. She was a perfect handful, her brown nipples begging for his kiss. He wanted to lean up, to tongue her nipples, suck her naughty tips into his mouth and taste her like the sweetest candy.

“Nuh-uh. I’m not done here.” She nudged him in the chest with her booted foot, knocking him back onto the pillows. Just who was in charge?

Then she gave a little shimmy, reaching up to pull her hair free of her ponytail and to run her fingers through the long strands. Yeah. She was treating him to a deliberate strip tease. His little wolf was playing with him. This playful side was new. Of course, back in the pit, she’d been scared and hurting. He would give anything to erase those memories and replace them with something happier for her. Unfortunately, when Loki had created the berserkers, he’d skipped the magic wand feature.

“So keep going,” he said roughly. His dick was ironhard and she’d barely gotten started. If she had any idea how easily she could tie him into knots…not going there.

“You bet, big guy.” She bent over—Jesus—and unlaced the boots, peeking up at him through all that gorgeous hair.

She straightened up and held out her hand. “Help a girl out here?”

When he held out a hand, she leaned on him, her slim, warm fingers closing around his as she toed off the boots. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached out with his free hand, grabbed her boots and set them down on the floor beside the bed. She toyed with the button on her pants.

“Don’t stop.” Please.

“You got it.” She flashed him a smile and popped the button. A quick shimmy and shake and she was pushing the leather down her thighs, leaving only her thong between him and heaven.

“I like that. Come here.”

He guided her forward until she was standing over him and then he leaned up and kissed her through the silk fabric. Her soft sigh was all the encouragement he needed. He dragged his thumbs up her center, drinking in her sweet scent.

“Calder—”

Off-balance, she staggered on the bed, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He sucked at her clit through her panties, loving her incoherent little shrieks and demands. He licked and drew circles around her with his tongue and she got louder, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Beautiful. The way she let go for him was fucking gorgeous. He flicked his tongue over her, teasing her through the damp fabric. And then, right when she was on the edge, the tiny tremors rippling through her flesh, he stopped.

“Calder—” There was his name again, part moan, part complaint.

He scooped her up and set her back against his pillows. “We’re putting this on pause. Taking a time out while you think things over.”

Before she could say anything else, he tore his shirt into strips and used them to tie her wrists to the bed. Yeah. He was a primitive bastard.

Sue him.

***

He was going to make her wait? Disappointment and arousal coursed through her. Who knew her Viking had a playful side? And did she really want to discover that fact now?

Absolutely, positively not.

She licked her lips. “If we’re playing bondage games, do I get a safe word?”

“No.” He wrapped her up in a fur. The room was actually deliciously, fantastically warm. She was in no danger of getting cold, but his concern was sweet. She had no idea if it was deliberate or not.

“Wow. That’s harsh.”

“No is your safe word. You don’t like something, you tell me. Hurting you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

She wanted to believe him. God, what she’d give to feel safe, particularly with this man. Having a thing for a Viking was crazy. She didn’t need to think about it to know that. Not only did he go berserk when he got pissed off, but he came with a pack of brothers who’d pretty much made it their life mission to stamp out her new people. While she hadn’t asked to become a werewolf, she was one. There was no getting around it.

And yet she wanted to be here with him. She wanted his body covering hers, his hands holding her down as he took her body and made her see stars from the pleasure of it all. Talking would be a good thing too, because they hadn’t done enough of that when they’d been cellmates. She wanted to know things like his favorite food and his pet peeves and why the hell he hadn’t painted his cabin, because the weathered wood was brown and boring instead of red or purple or any one of a half-dozen different lurid paint colors that she’d seen when she’d passed through the town of Katuaq.

He was staring at her. Right. He’d promised not to hurt her and she’d gone off to visit fantasyland.

“No pain. Got it.”

Calder smiled and, oh God, she was in trouble of a different kind. Usually, his smile was a barely there tug of his lips, his emotions lighting up his eyes but barely registering on his face because the man did an excellent impression of a brick wall. This grin was bold and happy and knowing. Definitely in trouble here.

“You like it when I spank you.”

Well. Yeah. The urge to tease him, to push him into doing so again had her squirming on his bed and his grin just got wider.

“We don’t have to talk about everything.”

He leaned in and ran his palm down her bare arm. “You’re going to ask for it.”

“This is that whole submit thing, isn’t it? Admit it.”

“You’re going to trust me to give you what you need.” He shoved off the bed and headed for the door.

Oh, God. Arousal trembled through her. Anticipation. Curiosity.

“The last time you left didn’t work out so well,” she called.

Her pit fights were, mercifully, a blank. The daylight hours, however, she remembered all too well. Along with shifting back into her human form. Coming to naked on the sawdust floor of the pit. They’d sent her to fight Calder. That had been her first oh shit thought. Even shifted in his bear form, she knew him. He’d been crouched over her. Watching. Her ribs had throbbed and she had a bad feeling that she’d attacked him.

“You left me in the pit.”

He didn’t turn around. “On the other hand, I didn’t kill you.”

“Bonus points for you.”

“What did you want me to do?” He growled the question, but he didn’t sound angry. More…disappointed. At himself?

Since fucking apparently wasn’t on today’s agenda, she settled back against the pillows. “The not killing part was good,” she agreed. “Although I’ve wondered why.”

“Jesus.” He shook his head, his hand flat on the door frame. “You wanted me to finish you?”

“I was a newly turned werewolf. I was out of control. I was just…surprised you passed on the opportunity.” And it had made her wonder. He could have snapped her neck so very easily and the pit guards had made it clear that there were no draws in the pit matches. Someone died. Those were the rules. Wondering why he’d broken those rules for her was stupid. Maybe he hadn’t even had a reason.

It was just that…she was pretty sure Calder was the one who’d undone the locks on her cage when the Vikings had busted out. And that he’d come back to do so.

“Consider this a do-over,” he snapped and shut the bedroom door.

Tied up.

Locked in.

Hel.

4

Calder was breaking down his newest toy, a TSD Bolt Action SD99 Series sniper rifle, when his phone vibrated with an incoming message. Vikar wanted to talk.

Bored with the wedding?

Yeah. It hadn’t taken his brothers long to notice his absence. He set the gun aside and texted Vikar back: Aren’t you supposed to have better things to do? Like your mate?

If he was lucky, he had better things too. Like the naked female in the other room.

Ha ha. Video conference?

Calder punched a button on his phone and let Skype do its thing.  From the number of faces crowding the small screen, the entire team was assembled. Vikar and Var. Rad, Alarr, Finnr, and a half-dozen others. The guys had moved out of the banquet hall and into the keep’s command center, so this was definitely a business call. They might be medieval Vikings, but some of his brothers jonesed hard for technology and their command center boasted enough hardware to start a world war—or at least to monitor. Bits and bytes weren’t his thing, however. He preferred weapons. Like the disassembled sniper rifle lying in front of him.

M4s, Brownings, Remingtons, and Rugers. He loved them all—so the stack of semi-automatic weapons behind Var was the best-looking porn he’d seen in a long time.

“Is it Christmas? Did Santa bring me presents?”

Vikar grinned. “Thought you could do something with our new playthings.”

He could battle sight zero the M4 in seconds before the rapid fire bursts took out his target.

“Thanks, Dad. Are we going to a ball game next?”

Vikar flipped him the bird—which was a definite no. “We had a security breach.”

Calder knew that—he hadn’t realized, however, that his brothers had been alerted. Since none of the faces staring at him looked like they particularly gave a fuck, they’d pulled the security feeds. They knew he had the female with him and this was a courtesy what the fuck call.

“You want to add a guest to my list, all you got to do is tell me.” Var shot his trademark smile in Calder’s direction. That crooked grin had earned the man’s way into more than his fair share of female hearts. The question really was: why was his brother working the charm on Calder?

Vikar leaned in. “Shit. I’m not picky. I’ve got my mate’s plus-one sitting at my table. How bad can your date be?”

Rad leaned in, icy-eyed as always. “Give me a name.”

“And details.” Var elbowed Vikar. “Told you he lit out of the ceremony for a good reason. His female is damn pretty, although we may need to work on her social skills. She boosted some stuff from one of the Valkyries and Pure’s sisters are out for blood.”

He’d had his doubts about Tyra’s wardrobe change. “Tell the Valkyrie I’ll make good on her loss.”

Not that he gave a fuck.

Vikar had his own list of demands. “We want a name.”

“Tyra,” Calder said, because her name was no state secret and giving it up wouldn’t hurt her.

Rad bared his teeth. Shit. Who’d let him off the leash today? “Does our Tyra have a last name?”

What Calder didn’t know about her would fill the fucking Encyclopedia Britannica. Sharing a cell hadn’t exactly been conducive to get-to-know-you-time. Which was a pity. Christ, that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wanted to squirrel away every detail he could about Tyra, from her bra size to how she liked her coffee in the morning. He’d bet she went for a mug that was more cream and sugar than black, because she had a sweet tooth.

“Earth to Calder.” Vikar snapped his fingers.

Right. “Not any more.”

“How do you lose a last name?”

“She’s one of Fenrir’s,” he admitted. None of them could ignore the elephant in the room, even if she had a spectacular pair of tits.

Again, since none of his brothers looked particularly surprised, he did the mental math. Tyra was a night shifter, so she’d likely made it onto the island in wolf form. She’d left the keep with him in human form. So, yeah, newsflash. His brothers had some concerns.

“And you know her.” Vikar stared at him intently. Fucking videoconference. At least they gave him credit for not picking up random werewolves at the local bar.

Since he didn’t lie to his brothers, he gave them the truth. “She was a pit fighter in Vegas. They kept her next to me.”

Vikar’s incredulous curse pretty much covered it. Why, yes, he was indeed fucked. For some reason, he couldn’t walk away from her. It was like standing by the side of the pool, watching a kitten or something equally high on the fluffy and cute scale drown. He could fish her out. Make things better. He didn’t have to kill her.

“You didn’t fight her.” Vikar sounded positive on that one.

Obviously. Because then she would have been dead, not crashing Vikar’s wedding.

“She was newly turned, a fresh-made werewolf. They started her on the easy fights. We would have faced off eventually.”

Since the pit keepers and placed her in the cell next to his, however, she’d clearly been on the menu for a later date. The keepers had liked the ugly psychology of caging two fighters side by side. That way, the weaker fighter knew exactly what was coming. As much as the keepers enjoyed an even match that went on for hours, the short matches fed their brutal sides. Nothing beat the stink of fear as an overmatched fighter was forced into the ring against a paranormal who could and would kill without remorse.

Of course, given the viciousness of the newly bitten, she wouldn’t have been a complete pushover in the ring. Thank God she’d apparently come with some natural aptitude as well, because many new wolves went down their first time out. Given the little he knew of werewolf physiology, however, it was unlikely that she remembered much if anything of those fights. The older she got, the more she’d retain her shifted memories, but the pit fights would always be sketchy. Running options in his head, he moved to the cabin window. She was in his bedroom. Holy hel, he wanted to go in there, but he wouldn’t give in to the need crawling through him.

“Did Tyra fieldtrip out here just to see you?” Color Vikar unconvinced.

Var winked. “Our Calder is charming.”

Christ. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.  How bad would that be if a werewolf female had a Viking Berserker tied in knots?

“She had a business proposal for me.”

“Uh-huh. You let all your business proposals ride your snowmobile?”

He filled them in. “She’s living with a pack in Greenland now and needs a fighter. Open-ended term and no specs on the target.”

Var whistled. “She was a little light on the specifics.”

“We’re still negotiating.”

Vikar grinned again. “Happy hunting, but don’t rush to commit. We’ve got job requests coming in from all over.”

Nice to be popular, but… “Why?”

“You remember the whole end of the world thing?”

“Yeah.” Hard to forget that his houseguest’s kind was supposed to be responsible for the end times.

“People are reporting they’ve seen signs.”

“Of Armageddon?” Was there a fucking road map or a neon sign?

“Supermarket tabloid.” Var waved a fistful of papers. “You’ve seen the pictures of the enormous people-eating snake sighted off the coast of California? Apparently, the Midgard serpent doesn’t believe in keeping a low profile and may have been confused with a cataclysmically large oarfish.”

Vikar broke in. “And Baldur’s dead. The son of a bitch bit it in what looks like a car accident, but…”

The legends claimed there would be one hundred days from kick-off to final touchdown. The serpent and Baldur’s passing were just two of many possible signs. Calder had never met the god of light and poetry himself, but he’d bet Baldur wasn’t composing a victory ode wherever he’d gone after his passing.

Desperately, he racked his head for the rest of the prophecies. Shit. He should have paid attention, but who really believed the end of the world was coming? The skies would be poisoned. Freezing winters followed by lawlessness. Some big ass horn was supposed to be blown as well, but the kicker was the wolves.

“Is Odin dead?”

“Not yet,” Rad said grimly. “But there’s an all-points bulletin out on the wolf packs. It’s shoot to kill on sight. It’s that whole ‘and the wolves will eat Odin’ thing that the big man has an issue with.”

Vikar sighed. “Go online. Check it out. We’re meeting in the keep in four hours.”

Rad leaned in. “Make sure wolf girl sticks around.”

Hel. No way Calder wanted to get sucked into the battles of Ragnarök. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he had much of a choice. After ending the call, he headed into the bedroom. Tyra’s eyes snapped open.

“Tell me more about this job,” he growled.

“You agreed to take it.”

“Uh-huh. And now I want details. Start talking.”

“Tell me what time it is first.”

Like he gave a shit? His life didn’t revolve around the daylight hours. “Two. Maybe three.”

He could practically feel her counting the hours until sunset. There was plenty of time for him to get to know her better. “Time to pay up.”

Shit. The words came out as a question and a smile spread across her face.

***

Last chance to back out.

Sex with Calder meant no holding back. No rules. He wouldn’t let her hide from anything she felt and, in his bed, she’d be feeling.

He was a whole lot of man packaged in a big, rough body. He had the kind of broad shoulders a woman could hang onto and if she scratched the shit out of his bare back, he wouldn’t complain. She wanted to get started, to drag him down and cover his hard jaw with tiny kisses. To nip and lick and love on him. He prowled closer toward the bed and she had no idea what was going through his head, although just possibly he was as off-balance as she was. She’d had plenty of rough sex before. She’d gotten through it, but she wanted more than that with Calder. He’d promised she’d enjoy what they did and he was a man who kept his promises. Could he do gentle with a side of rough?

Open your mouth. Tell him what you want.

Tell him you want him.

Words weren’t happening. Instead, she pasted a Mona Lisa smile on her face and pretended indifference, like waiting for him to reach the bed wasn’t a sexual tease. He hadn’t left her all that many choices when he’d decided to make his point and tie her up. Since flouncing off the bed was off-limits, she lounged against the headboard. It was hard to look relaxed buck-ass naked, but she’d hooked a fur and draped it strategically over what she sincerely hoped were her good parts. She wasn’t ready to bare it all just yet.

“I’m waiting for my answer,” he said, but his definition of waiting was definitely different than hers because he didn’t stop moving toward her. The heavy thud as he closed the space between them was a delicious turn-on, his booted feet every bit as powerful as the rest of him. His knees hit the side of the bed, but he didn’t join her.

Damn him.

“Agreed.” Did she sound too eager? Because she was coming out ahead in this deal. A mercenary and hot sex. Go her.

Since he was staring at her like he could see through her impromptu fur bikini, she figured that was her invitation to return the favor. He wore black cargo pants and that same pair of mean-looking shitkicker boots, military issue and broken in. Norse tattoos peeking out beneath the cuffs of his thermal shirt. She wanted him naked. Yesterday. She should have felt guilty for railroading him into helping her, but Calder was nobody’s fool. He did this because he wanted to. He was large and ruthless, all raw power as he yanked his shirt over his head.

Oh, goody. Getting naked.

His shirt hit the floor. “Last chance.”

“Are you kidding me?” They still weren’t done talking?

“No.” He unbuckled his belt. Even better.

“Is this like a Mexican timeshare transaction? I get three days to change my mind?”

“You really want three days?”

He bent over and yanked off a boot, sending it flying against the wall with an audible thump. The bend-and-reach pulled his pants tight against his front, outline his erection. It was…impressive.

Hotter. Wetter. Time to get this show on the road. “Untie me,” she demanded.

His amused chuckle just aroused her further. Oh, God. She hadn’t realized how sexy Calder would sound when he laughed.

“You don’t give the orders here, sweetheart.”

He could try ordering her around. Maybe it would work.

Or not.

His second boot hit the floor by the side of the bed and he shoved his pants down. Her Viking went commando. He didn’t give her much of a chance to check him out, though, because he crawled onto the bed and swung himself over her. Two hard, tattooed forearms caged her head.

“Ground rules,” he growled.

If he wanted her to listen, he had her in the wrong position. She wasn’t interested in thinking now she had his big, hot body pressing hers down into the mattress. She stretched, her body singing a welcome of its own for her Viking.

He glared down at her, not looking particularly lover-like. “I give the orders.”

Uh-huh. Words, words, words. She wanted action. “You do what you want to do, big guy. Kiss me.”

He stilled. “You really don’t take orders, do you?”

Nope, but he could hope.

“Please?” she offered hopefully. Maybe he’d kiss her sometime this century.

With a muffled groan, he covered her mouth with his.

He kissed her thoroughly, slowly and at his own damned speed. When she shimmied beneath him, trying to speed things up, he gave her more of his weight. She breathed hard, his scent flooding her with each gasp and pant. He kissed and nipped and ate at her mouth, filling her up with himself. Driving his tongue into her mouth and tasting her. Sealing himself to her.

His impromptu ropes pulled at her arms, reminding her she was stretched out for his pleasure. She couldn’t go far without his permission or a knife. Still, he hadn’t tied her legs. Oversight. She slid her foot up his calf, savoring the rough-soft prickle of hair. Dug her heel into his muscled ass.

Without breaking their kiss, he ran his palms along her sides, his palms brushing the underside of her breasts. Ticklish, she squirmed. His fingers found her nipples and pinched lightly.

Oh. Moving her hands more than a few inches was impossible because her Viking knew his knots, but the sensation was almost too much. Too good. The bindings were a wicked reminder that only made her more exquisitely aware that he was in control of the pleasure. She twisted, trying to take herself over the edge. God helped those who helped themselves and she’d waited a long damned time for this orgasm.

“Cut the ropes. Now.”

He pulled back. “Nuh-uh. You got to trust me to get the job done.”

This time, he dragged his hands down over her ribs, taking her impromptu fur sarong with him and filling her with the sensation of the fur rubbing against her skin as he laid her bare. He’d already seen it all, but this felt different. He cupped her butt, his big body following his hands as he dropped between her thighs.

He paused. Damn it. “You looking?”

“Yes.” There was a world of meaning in that one simple word.  Yes, do this to me. With me.

“Good.” He pulled her legs over his shoulders, leaving her open and exposed. On display.

“I still prefer doing,” she said. Too bad for him if he couldn’t take a suggestion.

With a rough laugh, he slid a hand out from underneath her butt and tapped his thumb against her mouth. “Suck. Make me good and wet.”

She opened her mouth and he pushed inside. His skin tasted salty and felt deliciously rough. She ran her tongue down the length of him and then sucked gently. Mimicking other things she could do to his big body if he just untied her or swung himself over her face. She was playing with fire and loved it.

“You want to know why you’re sucking me, Miss I-don’t-take-orders?” The answering throb in her pussy told her she might know, but she’d still enjoy hearing him tell her. She’d no idea that he was a talker. He didn’t shut up either, just kept giving her one sexy word after another. “I’m going to put my finger in you. First.”

He traced the seam of her butt and then penetrated her rear hole with his thumb. A bright pop of pleasure-pain. Fullness. More. He pushed deep, rasping his thumb against the sensitive tissues.

She could imagine so many things. Him taking her there, where he worked his finger. Ramming himself in and out of her ass. Nothing gentle or tender, just raw, hard sex. Her taking him. Her breathing hitched and she moaned. Oh, God. She liked that. Liked him.

“If that’s first, what’s next?” she asked hoarsely.

He smiled and slid down further, pulling the fur away completely. Okay. She didn’t need or want it. He tunneled his finger slowly in and then out of her butt. The sensation wasn’t comfortable, too intense, too dark. So good that it made her weak-knees with pleasure because apparently her body didn’t crave comfortable.

“This is next.” He licked her, a bolt of hot, wet pleasure that shot straight through her core.

***

Tyra’s skin was damp, her face flushed. He loved having her spread out here in his bed, stripped down and bare and all pale skin against the sheets and furs. If he could get inside her head, he would, but for now he’d make do with this. Yeah, he had a medieval mindset, but he didn’t give a fuck. The only person who mattered right now was Tyra and giving her what she craved.

He licked her again. Slowly. A deep swipe of his tongue from the bottom of her creamy slit to the top.

Her heels dug into his back as she whimpered and he grinned. She was a dirty girl and he loved that side of her too. She wasn’t afraid to enjoy him and she’d have made one hell of a Viking. Carefully, he pushed her thighs wider.

Opening her up further just made him hotter. Her folds glistened, slick with her wet, and a dark tuft of curls hid her last secret. He blew lightly and she jerked, moaning something. Probably another order, but he did it again anyhow. Then licked her there where she tasted like sunshine and mead.

His.

“You’re mean.” Her complaint came out too breathy to have any bite.

“Not about this.” He meant it too. She was a gift, a temporary loan, and he wouldn’t make the mistakes the wolves had made. Whatever they had or hadn’t done, they hadn’t been enough because his Tyra needed this.

Still, because he was a greedy bastard who wanted it all, he stole a moment for himself, resting his cheek against the top of her mound and breathing her in. If he’d been any kind of a fucking bard, he’d have had words for how sweet she smelled. But he wasn’t and he didn’t, even though he knew he’d never forget her.

“I could do this all night,” he told her gruffly.

She nudged his back with her heel. “Do something now.”

“Uh-huh.” He gave her a tiny smack on her pussy. She didn’t ride roughshod over him. “That’s not what you want.”

Her outraged hiss followed quick on the heels of his love tap, but he didn’t miss the gush of moisture.

“You want me in charge,” he said.

He licked the slick seam of her folds. Did it again, shoving the furs beneath her ass and spreading her open with his fingers, so he could kiss her good. Tasted and traced each secret seam and place. Her hips bucked upward and she rewarded him with a husky, keening moan. She liked this.

“I want to hear you say it,” he growled.

“Calder—”

“I’ve got some demands of my own, so you go right ahead and tell me.” He ran his tongue down her slick fold, penetrating her with his tongue while his thumb worked her ass. “Admit your ass is burning and you want more.”

Admit you want me.

“God, yes.”

He sucked her clit, using his tongue to rub the sensitive area beneath it. Pressed against the hard nub with the fingers of his free hand, stroking down first one tiny slope and then the other. She was so close. With each kiss, she trembled, her clit starting to spasm.

“You’re going to come for me again,” he promised, long minutes later when he lifted his head.

“Make me.” She stared at him, eyes full of defiance.

Hell, yeah.

***

Calder untied her, flipping her over. She felt boneless and limp—except for the throbbing pulse deep inside still beating out the after-rhythm of her orgasm. God. She could sleep for a month of Sundays now and too bad for him.

“We’re not done.”

Please.

He smacked her butt. “Up.”

“You like doing that too much,” she grumbled, but she let him tug her onto her knees. Butt tilted up for his invasion, head down, his hand resting on the small of her back. She stretched into it like a cat, muscles loosening, her body preparing.

“Now you’re teasing me.” His sexy rasp was pure encouragement, so…

“It doesn’t sound like you mind.” She did it again, working out the tightness in her thighs from clenching and riding his face and his shoulders.

“Next time,” he growled. “Next time, I’m going to spank this pretty ass of yours while you ride my fingers. You’re going to enjoy it. Maybe not as much as me, but you’re going to beg for it. Crave it.”

She already craved him.

That should have scared her, but…this was Calder. He made hard decisions and he fought like a wild man, but he was also a good man. The wolf Pack was no easy place. Even wasn’t the kind of guy to lift a hand in anger, although she’d heard plenty of stories about Leif and his cronies. Hell, she’d seen things and taken her share of blows as well. The Pack was a might makes right kind of place, which was something she needed to change. Coming here to Calder, choosing him, had been the right thing to do. Somehow they fit together in a way she and the wolves didn’t.

He pushed her legs wider apart, in her space and coming closer still, pleasure replacing the quick jolt of uncertainty. She had nothing to hold onto now but the pillows and the man. He circled her opening with the tip of his dick and then he pushed slowly in. He didn’t hold back, didn’t stop. Just came in and in. He reached places she hadn’t known a man could touch. But that was Calder.

Hers…

She pushed back at him, twisting. Fighting for the pleasure she craved. He caught her, holding her down for his next stroke, pushing her higher. Her whimpered demands became moans and soft pants of sound. Please. Mine. More. Her body tightened around his, milking him. Pleasure’s edge reached for her, tempted her, and then he reached beneath her, stroking her clit in hard, small circles and there was no more holding back, only letting go and giving in. She came apart beneath him, pleasure gripping her, and he was right there with her. He rode her, claimed her, pinning her to the bed and beneath his body. And she loved it, loved the way his dick and his sweat and his weight marked her. Made her his.

Afterwards, the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Hold me?”

***

Wrong guy, sweetheart. He rolled over onto his back, his head hitting the pillows. He was a Viking. He did tough, mean, and kick-ass. If she wanted gentle stuff, she’d asked the wrong man.

“Calder?” Fuck. Now she sounded anxious.

He could figure this out. He cracked an eye and discovered her staring at him, her hair standing up on end around her pink face and kiss-swollen lips.

“Come here,” he growled. He sounded about as welcoming as the grim reaper but she’d have to work with him. He tugged her against his chest and she settled in with a sigh. So far, so good. And, when he snagged a fur and tucked it around her, he got a feeling of pride. She seemed…okay.

He rubbed her back, smoothing her hair back until the black strands clung to his sword-roughened hands. This part he was less sure how to handle and that was the truth. He was a fucking cuddling virgin. Thank God none of his brothers could see this because he’d never live it down.

“Like this?” Don’t ask for directions. Take charge.

She rested her palm against his chest. “You’re good.” Something in his chest—not his heart, because he didn’t come with that piece of hardware, but something unfamiliar and his all the same—swelled with pride at her praise. But she wasn’t done wrapping him around her slender fingers. “That was—”

He looked down at her and, uh-huh, she was blushing.

“You ride my mouth like a wild woman and yet you still blush.” That was a minor miracle right there, it was. The grin tugging his mouth was also guaranteed to rile her up and, sure enough, she smacked his chest with her hand.

“Don’t spoil it.”

“Nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. I like it.”

“Good.” Had she brushed a kiss against his nipple? He wasn’t sure, but his heart picked up the pace and, shit, maybe the under-used organ had even skipped a bit. His little werewolf was dangerous.

“You’re still good.” She hummed, off-key, settling in like a sleepy pup.

“I’ll be even better next time. “He was a fighter and he’d mastered those skills through centuries of practice, repeating the same stroke over and over until he perfected it.

She blinked sleepily. “Is that even possible?”

Happiness bloomed somewhere inside him.

“Go to sleep,” he said gruffly. He pressed his face against her hair, just to see what she smelled like now. Her and him. Them. Fuck it. His brothers could wait. The whole damn world could wait. She’d sleep and he’d hold her. He could practice these cuddling skills.

“Oh. Shit.” She shoved upright, her eyes widening. “The sun’s going down,” she said and he didn’t have to ask how she knew. She was a werewolf and a night shifter. He gripped her chin, scanning her face for answers he didn’t want. He’d watched her shift night after night in the pits, turned inside out inch by painful inch.

“You still can’t control it.”

“Most of us can’t. Only the strongest can.”

He’d never—ever—thought of her as weak. Not after he’d known her for longer than five minutes. He might pack more muscle than she did, but she had an inner steel.  They’d sent her to fight in the pits and, night after night, she’d done what she had to do to survive and come back to him.

“Remember. You vowed.” She fought her shift, clinging to her humanity as the light faded and biology took over. He wanted to tell her he liked her in either form, but she was too desperate to get the words out. To remind him of his connection to her, when there was no way in fucking hell he ever forgot it. She was under his skin in a way he didn’t understand—and didn’t mind.

“Never question my word.” He stared at her, willing her to understand, but she bucked against his careful hold, her muscles straining. He wasn’t afraid of her wolf side. Fuck. No. Somehow, he’d find a way to hold onto her.  But she wasn’t listening anymore. Fur ran over her bare skin, covering her up.

“Armageddon’s here,” she rasped. “I know my kind has a bad rep, but not all of us want to end the world.”

“Don’t,” he growled. Don’t make excuses? Don’t explain? He didn’t know what he meant. She certainly didn’t have to be a perfect princess for him. He liked his dirty girl with her impish humor and endless craving for pleasure. Don’t go?

“You have to believe me,” she said, more urgently this time. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving behind bright pinpricks of pain, the blood pooling where she held on.

“It’s complicated.” He’d made promises to his brothers. He was a Viking.

She let go of him, stretching. Bones cracked, but she glared at him. “You promised to help me look after my pack. Stand by us…”

He had.

He would.

He opened his mouth to tell her he was on her side, by her side, but the sun sank the last few inches below the horizon and the shift rolled over her. She growled and rolled, coming up on the balls of her feet.

The white wolf bit him hard enough to break his skin, her canines sinking into the fleshy part of his forearm. The wound stung, but she didn’t tear the skin. Didn’t shred the vein—just marked him and let go. Yeah. He’d figure it out later.

“You’d better not be part vampire,” he growled.

Undeterred, she leapt off the bed. He didn’t know how much of Tyra was in the wolf—or how in control she was, but he’d have bet a pit match that his wolf was laughing at him. And that was the thing, wasn’t it. She was a goddamn wolf. Wolves didn’t want to stop Armageddon. Her kind did their fucking best to bring it on. Now he had a pet wolf and a problem, because she’d kept her end of the bargain…and he’d keep his.

He shoved off the bed, not sure if his wolf would attack him or not. Instead, she curled up on the bed with a huff. Yeah, he had a lot to learn. He swiped his clothes from the floor and beat a strategic retreat from the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Shutting her in.

Grabbing his cellphone, he punched in the familiar number. When Vikar answered, he said: “Change in plan. Can you all come to my place?”

5

When his brothers arrived, it was still dark. They snuck a quick peek in the bedroom door because none of them were lacking in the curiosity department except, perhaps, for Rad.

Vikar whistled. “You have a pet werewolf. Ballsy.”

His wolf bite itched like mad, black marks streaking away from the two small punctures she’d made in his arm. Instead of a conversation about STDs and who’d been tested when, they could discuss rabies shots. Fantastic.

Vikar got straight down to business. “Did you bring her here, let her onto the island?”

No need to define the her in question. Every man in the room knew who Calder had stashed in his bedroom.

“No. She came looking for me.”

“Why?”

Yeah. That was the question, wasn’t it? “She hired me to do a job.”

“What kind of job?”

“Muscle. Protection. For some reason, she believes the entire paranormal world is going to be gunning for her pack now that Ragnarök is here.”

“She’s not wrong.” Vikar’s hard gaze pinned him. “Odin wants the pelt of every werewolf nailed to the front door of his keep. Why should your female’s pack be the exception?”

“She says they don’t want to end the world.”

“A case of mistaken identity?”

“No idea.” He had no facts, other than an inclination to believe her.

Vikar nodded. “You know we have to push back on her, right? If there’s any chance she’s holding out on you or hiding information, we need to know. Ragnarök  isn’t a tea party.”

His brother’s eyes held no judgment. He’d fucked up plenty in his lifetime. Maybe this would go okay. He’d keep Tyra safe. No matter what it took. She could hate him for it, but she wouldn’t die and she wouldn’t get hurt.

Not much.

And not on his watch.

“Tell me how hard you want to push,” he said.

***

The world looked different through the wolf’s eyes. The lack of light in the room was no problem, its eyes picking out the minutest of details effortlessly. Each inhale brought new impressions of Calder’s den. Interesting scents. Leather. Machine oil. Steel. And the scent of the man himself. The wolf also knew when the other males approached the cabin. The wolf already felt safe here and territorial, determined to make the cabin the heart of her new territory.

As the night wore on, the wolf got up and paced the room, rubbing against the furniture to scent mark it and to mingle its scent with Calder’s.  Outside, Calder opened the door and let the new group of men inside. Teeth bared, ears pointed forward, the wolf whined. The berserkers in the other room were unknowns and the

Wolf was still Tyra, just a more primitive, feral version. Scenting no aggression from Calder, only pleasure and a note of caution, the wolf subsided.

When the sun rose and she shifted back, the low rumble of male voices reached her from the other room. She grabbed the stack of neatly folded clothes from beside the bed—Calder’s work—and dressed while she listened for clues about their visitors. Although her Pack was fine with casual nudity, strolling out naked in front of a bunch of Vikings would be stupid. Their orgies were legendary, after all. Their dynamic was also strangely, comfortingly Pack-like. They cared about each other even as they fought, but there was also a clearly established dominance order.

When she tried the doorknob, she half-expected it to be locked. Instead, it turned easily and she padded out. The guard to the left of the door was a surprise.

Shit. So much for convincing her Viking to trust her. After all, she was pretty sure she hadn’t gone for his throat when she shifted.

Almost certain.

Maybe.

The guard spun her around and ziptied her wrists before she could protest. “You don’t want to trade names first?”

He didn't mention an all access pass to the outside for her, or even toss her a greeting. He just tightened the set of plastic zipties manacling her wrists together. Unfortunately, the plastic zipties would likely stick with her through her shift.

When the Viking guard leaned down, his mouth by her ear, she felt unexpectedly small and feminine. Damn it. “Var,” he growled. “Consider us acquainted.”

Nope. Knowing his name didn’t help at all.

He pulled her effortlessly along after him, and she went because there was no choice. This was all his way and she couldn't stop him. Cold snaked through her belly. There was no way this ended but badly. Var took her straight to the same living room she'd been in before, a room that now held six males.

Her first impression of the Vikings waiting for her as that their reputation as the fiercest of the pit fighters had been well-earned. None of them looked happy to see her, either. Surely, offering their boy a paying gig had to count for something? A quick look turned up no Calder, although she sensed he was near. Interesting, too, that he’d chosen to absent himself. It probably didn’t bode well for her.

Show no fear. “Do you all tie up your lovers?”

Vikar didn’t move from his position on Calder’s sofa. “Are you volunteering to take on all of us?”

At the moment, given the look of icy focus on Vikar’s face, that was a resounding hel, no.

Vikar motioned to Var. “Untie her.”

The way the blade cut through the plastic ties scared her, too. The cold metal pressed against her skin and there was an ominous pressure and then the pop of relief as the ties gave and spilled her wrists into Var’s hand.

He gave her a little shove, just hard enough to send her stumbling into the center of the room where she was exposed and vulnerable. Viking eyes assessed her like she was a problem they were going to solve. Which she probably was, since these boys wouldn’t be thrilled she’d breached their defenses.

Vikar was the indisputable leader of the pack, although she would have bet that the other males chose to follow him. They could have gone their own ways, led their own teams—but they had chosen this man. Instinctively, she recognized his alpha behavior, her wolf fighting its own instincts to whine and lower her gaze. No.

Be strong.

So she didn't like the cold curiosity on Vikar’s face. It was better to be here to be as Calder’s lover, tucked away in the bedroom because girls didn’t get to play war games. The wolves’ shared a close-minded attitude toward female participation and her instincts screamed that being the focus of attention was very, very bad.

Before she could stop herself, she looked around the room because she wanted, needed, to know if Calder was here. If he was going to be a part of whatever bad thing was about to unfold right here. It looked like he was, because he stepped into the room and dropped into a chair on edge of scene. They’d had a deal. Those dark eyes didn't give away any secrets, though. She couldn't tell, from looking at his face, if Vikar had decided to pull the Alpha card and undo that deal.

She got that answer all too quickly.

Var moved behind her, pulling her arms into the small of her back and dragging her body up against his. Her heart started beating like a trip hammer. It was like hitting a wall. A large, immovable wall. Her gaze shot to Calder, before she could stop herself, but he hadn't moved from his lazy sprawl. This was okay with him.

She sucked in a breath and reminded herself she was holding herself together. She didn’t have to fall apart just because the men surrounding her were a pack of mean-ass bastards. Her Pack was every bit as bad.

Vikar nodded. "We're going to try a little conversation about the end of the world. Now that you’re in human form, I'm hoping you'll be reasonable."

Calm. The spike of fear was a liquid sensation shooting through her stomach and down to her knees. Her skin prickled hot and then cold.

"Or what?" There. Her voice sounded thin, but there was no shake. That was good. That set the tone.

"Show and tell. Rad here is going to show you how to play." Vikar nodded and Rad stepped toward her, his knife in his hand. Nausea seared her stomach like he’d ordered the bile up. Shit. The Vikings played every bit as nasty as the werewolves did.

Rad’s blade flashed toward her. The scream was out of her mouth before she could bite the sound back. She pressed hard against Var, but with no give in his hold, she wasn't going anywhere.  The blade retreated and her cardigan hit the floor. She sucked air in.

“If you want to play games, I’m voting for Parcheesi.”

"There's your show." Vikar steepled his fingers. "Now, let's try tell. You know something about the end of the world. One of your people has a plan and you’re going to tell us what it is."

"No," she said instinctively, but Vikar was already nodding his head toward Rad again.

"There's no room in this room for no, wolf."

The blade came for her again, a cold whisper against her skin as the sharp edge pressed in and then down her thigh. She jerked backwards and Var’s legs hooked around hers.

"Don't move, darling." Oh, God. She could feel the rough growl from that mouth pressed against her ear. "Rad here likes things a little rough. You don't want to make this too much fun for him."

Vikar kept right on talking. “Everyone knows the wolves are responsible for kicking off Armageddon. The signs are all present.”

“My Pack didn’t do it.”

But you will, a little voice screamed in her head. That’s why you’re here. Her Alpha had plans and that was why she needed to put him down.

Vikar’s flat voice reached her from a distance. “Come now, Tyra. Everyone in this room, including you, knows the answer to this one. It’s a simple one. This one is a definite yes and all I need from you are some more words to go with that truth. Fill in the blanks for us on how you plan on getting the Ragnarök party started.”

She didn’t have an answer, couldn’t, wouldn’t. She didn’t know which, just tumbled headlong into animal panic at the soft slide of the blade coming for her again. So much for all of her tough girl moves. All she could do was wait, helpless and pinned between the heat of the man holding her in place and the icy coldness of the one coming for her. The impossible awareness of her body and what they could do. This was as bad as her worst moment in the pit and then with the Pack. She was so very tired of being at someone else’s mercy.

The knife trailed up her thigh. Those were her own bare legs she saw, with Rad’s blade pressed against skin of her inner thigh. He moved his wrist, just a little flick of sinew and muscle, and the blade stroked lightly against her skin.

She whimpered.

A second small stroke, higher this time.

She couldn't think, couldn't find her voice. Her throat dried up, closed in and every part of her wanted to speak out, to give Vikar the words he wanted, but she couldn't. She was locked down tight.

“Alpha hasn’t done it yet,” she finally got out. “He wants to, but he hasn’t done it yet.”

From a distance, she heard the Alpha voice asking more questions, but she couldn't stop watching Rad.  She pulled hard, bucking against Var’s hold, but he held her effortlessly in place.

"Shhh," he crooned. "I told you this one, sweetheart. You don't want to move for this one. You give our Alpha want he needs now, or Rad is coming back for you."

"I can't." She couldn't, wouldn't. The world was all mixed up and that blade just moved, coming back when she wanted it to go away. Wanted this all to be over. She didn’t want to die here—or worse. The blade's edge traced the valley between her breasts, parting the fabric.

The lacy cups of her bra separated, exposing her breasts. Heat washed over her, followed by cold. The terribly gentle, careful, inexorable pass of the blade made her frighteningly aware of what these men were capable of.

Then Rad flipped the blade in his hand, the knife's handle tracing the path the wicked edge had just taken. Fear had her nipples puckering and her throat drying up. This time, she got her mouth open, but there was no sound to come out. That handle smoothed a path down her stomach, toward her panties.

"Calder," she whispered. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to do or why some primitive part of her thought he'd respond. He was familiar, though, and he hadn't hurt her, not yet. He'd made her feel good.

Safe.

The blade reached her hip. He wasn't coming, was going to let this happen while he watched from the side like she was a dinner show he'd bought a ticket to. But then, suddenly, he shoved himself upright, all that raw, leashed power vaulting the table. She watched him come, racing the blade coming back for her, tucking under the thin ribbon holding her panties together.

The ribbon snapped, Calder’s fist came up and Rad’s head flew back.

Thank god thank god thank god.

Var’s hands dropped away, Calder’s arms surrounded her, wrapped her up in his scent and heat, and then he was carrying her out of the room. Out and away.

6

“What the hell was that?” Tyra took refuge in anger.

“A mistake,” Calder answered, taking her into the bedroom. As soon as she’d dressed in the new clothes he handed her, he took her out the front door. He had seven snowmobiles parked in his front yard, each loaded with packs. Maybe they were going after her wolves after all.

His vocabulary needed some work however.

“A mistake implies that somebody misjudged somebody else. Mistaken identity. Some kind of confusion. That seemed pretty on purpose to me.” She twisted in his arms. She liked having him hold her, but like wasn’t the same as need or must. “Put me down.”

“In a moment.” Still holding her, he dropped down onto the front step of his porch. Her heartbeat slowed some, tuning itself to Calder’s. Now that she was away from his scary-as-shit family, some things were becoming clearer. Whatever had gone on inside his cabin, it had been part of a larger strategy. She just needed to figure out what it was.

“Tell me the truth,” she suggested. “Tell me why that was a mistake.”

“It was a set up.”

Well. Shoot. “You did that on purpose?”

“You just defined mistake for me,” he pointed out, humor ghosting his voice. God. She’d never understand Vikings.

“Why?”

“Vikar needed to make sure you’d told me the truth about the Pack job. That it wasn’t a ruse to get us involved in an assassination attempt on Odin. That you weren’t keeping information from us.”

She elbowed him. Hard. “I’m not the one who was keeping secrets there, big guy. My Alpha is planning to try to assassinate Odin. The key word being try. His plan isn’t worth shit—it’s a Hail Mary pass at the power end zone and he’s going to take the entire Pack with him. Remove him from the equation and there’s no risk my Pack goes after Odin. We’re not crazy and we actually don’t want to trigger the end of the world—whether anyone believes that or not.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I get that now. You want a free shot?”

“Excuse me?”

“At me,” he said. “You want to take a shot at me, you take it. I owe you. I shouldn’t have let Vikar push so hard or so far.”

She heard the unspoken words. So far. He was still okay with investigating her claims and doing some strong-arming. If she was being honest, now that her heartbeat had settled back into a nice, steady plodding beat, he’d be perfect for her Pack. He was ruthless and manipulative. He did what had to be done and he didn’t let feelings or sex get in the way. If anyone could take down Leif and then hold the Pack together, it was Calder.

“I’m not firing you,” she said. “You don’t get off that easy. I still want your help with my Pack.”

“And you’re still mine,” he replied roughly. “I’ll remember my job if you remember yours. Mount up in ten. Mine’s the ride in front.”

She slid off his lap and he let her go. “So which one’s mine?”

“The same one as mine,” he said tightly. “Go grab your things.”

“I don’t get a snowmobile of my own?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t think I deserve it after that rope-and-knife stunt?”

He didn’t trust her. If she was being honest with herself, he was right. She checked. Nope. Internal honesty didn’t make her feel any better.

“I have my own ride off-island.”

He shrugged again. “Don’t care. Hop on or get left behind.”

He patted the seat with his hand. God. That hand in the black leather glove gave her all sorts of ideas.  One leather-covered finger pushing into her core. Two. Three? She could almost feel the vibrations of the engine throbbing through her pussy. Sexy times on the snowmobile were definitely next on her to do list. She could hold a grudge later.

Like next century.

Or…she could let him make it up to her.

His sleeve rode up, exposing her bite mark. She ran a finger over it and he hissed.

“Baby,” she said happily. Her big tough Viking had a soft side.

“Did you turn me into a werewolf?” He rubbed the small bite mark. Right. He’d probably cut the arm off if he believed that.

“Male werewolves are bred, not bitten,” she said smugly. “You can’t become one of us.”

When the Pack males bit, it simply fucking hurt if you were another male. As for the females, well, yeah. She knew exactly how that turned out and there had been plenty of hurt, just of a different kind. She liked seeing her mark on him, although she had no intention of telling him that. While she might not have made him into a werewolf, she’d done him one better. By biting him, she’d marked him as her mate.

She’d taken him.

Go her.

***

The next time he signed up for a rescue mission or a merc job, he needed to insist on decent work conditions. Hel, medieval Greenland hadn’t been all that different from the modern day scenery. Vikar had had the keep modernized because, as he’d pointed out, you keep the good things and upgrade the bad. Indoor plumbing was just one perk of modern living. The werewolf packs, on the other hand, apparently lived like shit. Tyra had given them the coordinates to a makeshift camp of tents and huts where her Pack lived.

He really didn’t like to think of her living like that. Since the sun had been setting, however, there hadn’t been any time to debate living conditions with her. She’d shucked her clothes behind a convenient rock and shifted. Her wolf had yipped at him and then bolted off for a run. His brothers pretended they were perfectly okay with a four-legged companion in their camp. He had no idea whether or not they were really onboard with Tyra’s presence, but he appreciated the surface support.

He’d debated himself how he felt about Tyra transforming into a wolf during the night hours, but watching her run all he could think was that she was fucking beautiful in either form. She looked wild and free, which was exactly right. Part of him actually regretted he couldn’t go with her, but no way she wanted a bear lumbering around, spoiling her hunt or her run. He was heavy weapons, but a fun companion? Yeah. He wasn’t that.

So he’d made camp and set up their tent, pretending everything was going according to plan and that he didn’t wish he was out there with her. After he stood watch for two hours, keeping an eye on the empty shadows around their camp, he’d retreated to their tent.

Which was empty.

She hadn’t come back. Yet. Because she’d come back, if only because she’d hired him to do a job. She needed his muscle to take down her Pack Alpha before the numbnut tried singlehandedly to kick off the Ragnarök festivities. In truth, he had no idea whether or not the end of the world required a werewolf to get started, but enough paranormals believed the prophecy to convince Calder that plenty of folks were going to be bringing out the big guns against any and all werewolves.

Eventually, he convinced his head to shut down and fell asleep.

***

Dream. It was the fucking dream and it was always the same.

Like every night for the last twelve months, he didn’t wake up. Nope. His sub-conscious insisted on making the full trip down memory lane.

The guards had come for him late at night, long after Tyra had shifted. She’d been crouched in the far corner of her cell when they drugged and dragged him out of the cell. Not that he’d bothered putting up too much of a fight anymore. Resisting simply meant he went into the pit sporting fresh injuries. Eventually, the drugs they shot him full of would do the trick anyhow, the rage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, triggering his shift no matter how much he fought against it. So now he let them collar him with the metal-studded leather collar and lead him to the holding cells. If tonight’s script worked like the previous nights, the gate would go up and his only way out would be through the pits.

Kill or be killed.

At least the job description was simple and he knew precisely what was expected of him. The guards wanted a mindless killing machine. The audience wanted blood sport. Nice to know they were all on the same page.

The guard on his left grinned as he shoved Calder forward. “We picked you a pretty one.”

Just a dream. Move on, Calder. Fast forward and skip to the end.

But he couldn’t.

The guard on the right actually elbowed him, apparently certain that the drugs had done their work. Since the guy was a frost giant and topped out at ten-feet tall, Calder saved his energy for the pit. “Nice tits. Great ass. Fights like a feral dog. You’ll have fun tonight.”

“Make her last.” The suggestion was obscene. Did the giants really believe he’d rut with his female opponent right there in the pit for all to see? More than a few of the giants certainly got off on fucking their opponents as they died. Some acts were worse than wrong, however, and there were places he liked to believe he’d never go, no matter how strong the provocation or the drugs.

So he said nothing—nothing—and let them shove him into a holding cell. Maybe an hour later, the lights flickered outside. The crowd roared, chanting as the evening’s first match came to its predictably bloody close. Calder hoped to hel that the dead fighter wasn’t one of his brothers but, truth was, he was tired of fighting. It would be so easy to slip up, to drop his guard and let the evening’s opponent finish him. He’d thought about it every evening—and, every evening so far, he’d come to the same conclusion. He’d see this to the end. He’d go down fighting—or, better yet, he’d take down the predators responsible for the pit.

The crowd roared again as metal grated and the gate rose on the holding cell on the opposite side of the pit. The only upside to tonight’s fight that he could see was that it was him and not Tyra fighting for life. Right on cue, the feral howl of an animal rose outside his cell in the ring. Being newly turned, Tyra wouldn’t stand a chance of holding her own against a fully trained adult werewolf.

He, on the other hand, wouldn’t have any problem putting down tonight’s opponent.

When the gate to his cell finally rose, he strolled out nonchalantly. No weapons, but he didn’t need them, truth be told, although sometimes the pit guards liked the window dressing. Or the variety. Fuck. For all he knew, they got their rocks off on watching him hack his opponent to death. Anything was possible here where no one’s shit was straight.

The drugs pumping through his veins eroded his self-control and it was a relief to give into the urge to shift and go berserk and loose the reins on his humanity. Calder the man still hung out inside his head, but the guy took a back seat to the bearish berserker and a more primitive set of urges. Kill.

Spotlights illuminated the pit in a blaze of hundred-watts. Not that there was anything new to see—the arena looked the same as always. Bloody sawdust covered the floor and high rock walls surrounded the fighting space. There were no toeholds, no easy way out. He’d tried scaling the wall his second night and been shot down. Literally. It had taken three days for the bullets to work their way out of his skin. The pain had been a bitch and he’d been no closer to freedom.  The eyes of tonight’s spectators bored into him. He estimated tonight’s crowd at several hundred. Each would have paid a small fortune for the rights to watch this year’s matches in the ultimate tournament of the paranormal world.

A growl from the shadows gathered along the sides of the pit drew his attention back to business.

Show time.

A surprisingly small wolf launched itself toward him. He was already defending, meeting the wolf with a hard, forward blow. Ribs cracked audibly as the wolf flew backward. The small, white wolf with familiar hazel eyes. Tyra’s eyes.

We got you a pretty one.

He should have seen it coming. They’d sent him into the pit against Tyra. Calder the Viking had a frantic oh, shit moment, but the Berserker saw only the enemy coming for his throat and reacted. Wake up. Once had been enough. He didn’t need to a nightly re-do in his head. In the dream, though, the wolf growled, dragging herself to her feet. She was newly turned. She’d fight like a demon, would keep coming and coming at him.

Until he killed her.

He stalled for time, because maybe, even in his berserker form, he wasn’t completely lost to all decency. When he killed her, she’d shift back to her human form. He didn’t want to see her lying there, broken and bloody.

Wrong. Evil.

Danger.

Mine.

She came at him again, driven by instincts she didn’t understand or ask for. In slow motion, he watched his paw-hand swipe at her, knocking her back down again. He’d pulled his punch. She slammed into the sawdust, but bounced back up. The crowd roared in disappointment.

“Tyra.” Her name came out guttural, more raw sound than actual word because of his shift. There would be no reasoning with her now, but he thought she was in there. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes. She was fighting, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. Fighting the instincts that told her to kill him. Part of him wanted to let her do it.

He danced around her, playing with her because he was too much of a coward to kill her. The crowd loved it. Fucking bunch of sadists, they thought he was playing with her.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, when he was weighing a mad dash for the gates with her, the sun came up. Fuck. Leave it to the guards to come up with a new twist. Like someone had flipped a light switch, Tyra shifted, bones cracking and reforming as her fur retreated. He roared with outrage, but she lay there naked and panting on the bloody sawdust. The whole damn arena stared at her and he wanted to scoop her up, to stand between her and the world, but he was a bear and a berserker. Hardly a man worthy of being a fucking hero.

She rolled over, pushing up onto her hands and knees. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at the smooth expanse of skin that was her back. Faint white marks from a bikini top crisscrossed her shoulders and ribs. And lower, Odin help him, the sweet pale curve of her ass drew his gaze. She hadn’t been a prisoner—or a werewolf—long enough for the tan lines to fade from her skin.

“Got to stop meeting like this,” she muttered to the sawdust and looked up. And up. He knew the minute she recognized him. He was hard to miss, seeing as how he topped out at ten feet, but it was more than that. He’d never shifted. Never gone berserk in his cell. And yet she knew him.

“Wow. Talk about a cluster fuck.” She got to her feet and he did nothing. He couldn’t go to her. She wouldn’t want him to and it would tip the guards off as to his vulnerability. Her assessment was dead on, however. They were both really and truly fucked.

“Tyra.” He forced her name out and she sighed, a small huff of air that only he could hear.

“You bet,” she said. She didn’t beg or plead. Just stood there waiting for him to make a decision that was shockingly easy. Slowly, he forced the rage down. He let go of the desire to fight and shifted back into his human form, dropping onto the sand at her feet.

He couldn’t kill her.

He wouldn’t.

And yet he’d still failed to protect her.

***

Calder woke up, teeth bared, heart pumping. Fuck. He hated the dreams. Loathing, however, hadn’t stopped them from screwing with his head on an all too regular basis and tonight had been no exception. He looked down. Tyra lay curled up against him like a small heat-seeking missile, one hand twisted in the front of his shirt. It must have been barely dawn because she was human. She didn’t have any problems sleeping but, then again, she hadn’t been the one who’d thought about killing him. The wolf’s instincts didn’t count. He stared up at the tent, willing the memories away, but sleep wasn’t happening for him.

Carefully, he untangled her fingers from his shirt and slipped out of their sleeping bag. When she’d argued for separate tents, he’d overruled her. His job. His rules. When they reached her Pack, he’d take input from her. She’d gotten all pissy at that declaration and he might have kissed her, just because he loved doing that and she was hot as hell when she was mad at him.

The smile slipped away. She’d never mentioned that last night in the pit. He didn’t think she was really part of the forgive and forget crowd, but he had no idea why she hadn’t brought it up. Rubbed his face in his weakness or used it for leverage. Hel. If he’d been her, he’d have gone for the balls and not in a good way. Of course, she wasn’t him. Not only did she lack the equipment and the gene pool, but she was way better. A better person. A better friend. Better all round.

Introspection sucked. He grabbed his parka and shoved his feet into his boots, lacing like a madman. When he stepped outside the tent, it was definitely barely dawn.  Northern lights streaked across the sky, the otherworldly green like mist painting the star-studded blackness. They’d pitched domed tents on the rocky edge of a lake filled with jagged chunks of ice. Var had joked that it was like they were running some kind of glamping experiment. Tyra had mentioned a preference for the Four Seasons when they’d been loading the gear before they left the keep and he kind of agreed with her there. There was nothing wrong with a good mattress and running water. He debated going back inside and waking her up to tell her so—and to do other things—but she had to be tired. They’d have to ride hard today to reach her Pack by nightfall.

In the hopes of cooling down, he unzipped his jacket and crunched over the snow to the Viking standing watch on the north side of the camp.

Var looked around when Calder got close, although Calder would have bet the other man had known the minute Calder stepped outside of the tent. Not much got past Var, despite his laidback attitude. “You’re early, my man. Your watch ended two hours ago.”

No shit. They’d stopped for six hours, because after twelve hours of hard riding, they were all ready for a break. While he’d rather jump straight to the fighting, that wasn’t an option. Tyra had shifted before their pit stop, running along side the snowmobiles for hours. His brothers hadn’t said anything. He didn’t deserve that kind of unilateral support, not when he didn’t know what he was doing.

Or what he was even hoping for here.

“Catch some zzzzs.” He nodded toward Var’s tent. “I got this.”

Naturally, Var didn’t move from his post. The man did an excellent imitation of a brick wall when he’d made up his mind about something. “You need to sleep. You look like shit.”

“Thanks for the beauty tip. I got this. You sleep.”

Var shook his head. “No can do. You know how Vikar feels about our fucking with his watch schedule. He seems to think every man needs sleep.”

“He needs to save his mother hen act for his mate.”

Var grinned. “You hear the fight when he told her she was staying behind?”

Hard not to, since Pure had a pair of lungs on her and she had no problem yelling her head off. Ordinarily, he’d have been happy to hear his alpha taking some shit from a tiny female, but since it was his fault they were headed out over the ice pack at the ass crack of dawn...yeah. Totally his fault.

“Hell of a way to end the wedding,” he muttered, trying not to feel guilty.

Var shrugged. “They’ve got that whole happily-ever-after thing going on for them. Luuurve,” he crooned.

Left foot. Right. Calder focused on the way their shit kickers crunched over the snow pack. That funny gray early morning light that made everything look unfamiliar. The camp would be waking up soon.

“You don’t believe in love?” Fuck. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation—and with Var, of all people. He’d fought alongside the other Viking for centuries. Var was a brutal fighter. After he left the battlefield, he liked to let loose in other ways. Women saw the tawny hair and ropey muscles and they dropped their panties on the spot. Var didn’t spend a night alone unless he chose to.

“Not for me,” Var said, and Calder had no clue if that was a “Sorry, I’m not personally into loving another person” or a “Hell, no one’s going to want my sorry ass that way.” The closed-off look on his brother’s face was enough of a deterrent to stop his 4-1-1.

Var turned, completing his circuit of the camp. “You planning on falling for your werewolf?”

There was no planning involved. This love shit seemed to be more along the lines of an act of the gods than a well thought-out battle strategy. He halted. So what if he’d fallen for a werewolf? She was a worthy female and one hell of a fighter. He liked pretty much everything about her, except for the family she came with, and they all knew that family wasn’t something you could pick.

Calder eyed Var. “You don’t want to talk about your love life. Why should we discuss mine?”

Var eyed a particularly dense patch of shadows by a lichen-covered rock. Calder followed his gaze, but he didn’t see anything life-threatening in that direction. A juvenile arctic hare, its fur still brownish-white, hightailed it away, ears waving. Good thing for bunny there that Tyra was sleep, or her wolf would have been scenting breakfast.

“I’m not the guy who’s toting a werewolf around with him,” Var pointed out. “Or the guy who bartered away his services to fight a vaguely specified Pack battle.”

“Nope. You’re the guy who promised Pure that you’d go find her missing sister and bring her back.”

“True, but I didn’t say when I’d do that.”

They both knew that Var wouldn’t make Pure wait. Var talked a tough game, but he had a soft spot for Vikar’s mate, and not just because he’d shared a bed with her. Var liked the woman, even though he likely wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“They sent her into the pit against me, back in Vegas,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind.”

“Hel. That sucks.”

That pretty much covered it.

“They sent her in as a werewolf. The sun rose while we were fighting.”

“She shifted back.”

“Yeah.” He’d never forget the look of horror and what-the-fuck on Tyra’s pretty face when she looked up and saw him standing over her in his bear form. He might have been trying not to hurt her, but she didn’t know that. All she knew was that he had outweighed her three to one and came with a matched set of canines and claws that could shred her in seconds.

“Bet you scared the piss out of her. Definitely not the best dating move.”

“We’re not dating.”

Var shot him a look. “I agree that your strategy needs work. You want to start with flowers. Roses are always a safe bet. I’ll make you a list, but you think lilies, tulips, and daisies. If it’s got petals, it’ll get the job done. Going furry on a first date isn’t going to have the same effect.”

Calder snorted before he could help himself. “I got that.”

“She’s talking to you now,” Var pointed out. “She must not be the type to hold a grudge.”

“I tried to kill her.”

“You sure about that?”

Calder opened his mouth—although fuck if he knew how to respond—but Var kept right on talking.

“Because you’re a Viking, I’m a Viking…if you’d tried to kill a newly made werewolf, she’d be dead and we’d be having a totally different conversation. You volunteered to go kick some ass for her—that’s better than diamonds any day.”

7

Early evening didn’t do the Pack’s camp any favors. Even the fading light couldn’t mask the ragtag, rundown tents and dugouts. Tyra had promised herself she wouldn’t feel ashamed. Some folks had more. Some had less. It sucked for her Pack that they were in the less camp, but a lack of material shit didn’t make them less as people.

Her head had the message. Her heart? Yeah. Not so much.

She ached to give her wolves everything they deserved, to lead them away from Leif and let them live.

Calder didn’t bother with a stealthy approach. Being a six-foot-plus Viking had its advantages. He roared toward the camp on the snowmobile, bellowing Leif’s name when he swept past the two sentries posted on the outskirts. By the time they’d reached the heart of the camp, Leif came sauntering out of his latest hidey-hole. Tyra didn’t want to know what he’d been doing inside the dugout cabin because the man was still zipping up his pants, smelling like sex and whiskey. His body, however, radiated pure aggression.

He glared at his visitors. “Get your Viking ass off my property.”

Ake and Frey lounged up behind him, carrying rifles. Apparently, Leif had moved beyond pure fist power and had implemented a back-up protection plan. Calder was off the snowmobile and between her and the guns lightning fast. He didn’t take his eyes off the three wolves.

“Vikar. Watch Tyra.”

She didn’t need babysitting. She opened her mouth to protest, but Vikar simply wrapped his big arms around her and lifted. He might have squeezed just a little, because finding oxygen got a little scarcer to yell her feelings at Calder. Shit. Five seconds later, she was breathing again—and surrounded by a wall of Vikings.

“Tyra’s not welcome here.” Leif didn’t sound like he gave a shit, unless it gave him an opportunity to discipline her. He liked that plenty because the man was an open sadist.

Which was why she’d brought reinforcements. Determined to see for herself what was going on, she rammed an elbow into the nearest Viking side. Without success. Rad wrapped his fingers around her elbow and carefully removed it from his shirt.

“You should try using your words,” he said mildly. To her surprise, he budged up an inch or two, making just enough room for her to peak out. It wasn’t particularly dignified, but she’d take it. Her spyhole through the wall of Viking chests revealed that the Pack had come out, forming a quiet, hesitant circle around them.

Calder didn’t waste time. He stepped toward the trio. “I challenge you.”

Leif laughed, a mean, low sound that brought back plenty of unhappy memories. “You can’t do that. You’re no wolf.”

Her Alpha snapped his fingers and Ake and Frey turned their rifles on Calder. Idiots.  Her Viking moved in a blur of cracking bones and flying bodies. Then Leif was standing alone as Calder tossed the rifles to Vikar. Ake and Frey were a limp pile on the ground. Part of her hoped those bastards were dead. It wasn’t nice, but she’d discovered twelve months ago that nothing about the paranormal world was nice. Still, she was pretty sure she saw chests rising and falling, so Calder must have limited the damage.

Even strode up. “He can challenge you.”

A quick, whispered discussion of Pack law broke out. Leif had never given a damn about rules, but clearly he could do the math. Calder wasn’t going anywhere until he’d gotten his piece of Leif. If Leif wanted to continue to lead the Pack, he had to take out Calder to do so.

“Goddamn it.” Leif spat on the ground. “Okay. If Viking boy wants a fight, I’ll give him one.”

Even started calling out the rules, but Leif wasn’t interested. To be honest, Tyra didn’t think Calder was either. Challenge fights were as basic as the pit matches had been. Two males.

One ring.

One victor.

One dead body.

Leif shifted without warning, his massive wolf’s body tearing through denim and cotton. Calder stepped forward to meet him bare-handed. The fight was brutal and primal—and unstoppable. The two males slammed together, blows landing with sickening force.

Frantically, Tyra tried to remember what she knew about wolf fights. The problem was, no one had challenged Leif while she’d been part of the Pack. There were many reasons for that, not the least of which was the undisputable fact that Leif was a savage fighter. He also fought dirty and was completely without mercy.

“Give him a weapon.” She slammed her palm into Rad’s arm.

Rad didn’t take his eyes off the fight and the circle of wolves, scanning the crowd for signs of further trouble. “Our boy’s good. No worries.”

Okay. So she hadn’t thought this through. She’d wanted Leif taken out and, since she couldn’t do it herself, she’d orchestrated it. She hadn’t considered how she would feel when Leif slammed into her Viking and Calder went down beneath a snarling, toothy mass of angry wolf. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to jump right out of her chest and hunt Leif down. Please let Calder be okay.

Steel flashed as he rolled beneath the wolf. He had a knife. He just wasn’t using it.

She pulled on Vikar’s arm. “He doesn’t have to play by the rules. He knows that, right?”

Vikar grinned down at her. “Sometimes, it’s more fun to play by the rules.”

Calder charged the wolf and then he went berserk. Thankgodthankgod. She scented the wolves’ uneasiness and she got it. Because Calder was all kinds of huge and pissed off. She remembered this from their fight in the pit. His berserker form was a massive, feral bear superimposed over the man. He shot up, his shoulders growing broader to match the huge paws and lethal canines. Then he got down to business. Two hard swipes and Leif flew across the clearing.

Bleeding from the gaping slashes in his side, Leif didn’t move. Calder roared and followed relentlessly, standing over the fallen wolf. Leif’s wolf form wavered, then he shifted back. The man lay there on his back, bleeding. It was hard to feel any sympathy for him, knowing what an asshole he’d been.

Leif dragged himself up on an elbow. “We can negotiate. I’m going to take down Odin. I could use a fighter like you.”

Wrong move. Calder wasn’t an assassin and he and his brothers were loyal to Odin in their own way. The berserker shifted and Calder stood there. He planted a booted foot on Leif’s chest and pressed down.

Leif shut the hell up, his oxygen cut off.

Calder looked over at Even. “You all fight to the death?”

Even nodded. “Yeah. When it’s a challenge.”

Calder reached down and snapped Leif’s neck with one quick, hard twist.

***

Mission. Accomplished.

Calder looked around the circle, not certain what came next. His brothers lounged on sidelines, forming a human shield around Tyra and watching. He half-expected them to break out the beer and the popcorn. The audience reminded him of the pit, except that this time he was fighting for Tyra and not against her. That was better. Much, much better.

A whisper of sound swept through the watching wolves and then, to a man, they knelt. Calder didn’t see any females, but he could scent them. They’d ridden out the fight hidden. He strode forward and his brothers parting, letting Tyra out of her Viking holding pen. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed her in.

“Why is everyone—except you—kneeling?”

“They’re yours now,” she said quietly.

Well. Shit. Just shit.

“I’m not adopting twenty ratty-assed wolves,” he growled. “This was a one-time offer.”

“Fifty,” she countered. “Unless Even’s mate has dropped her pups, in which case we’re talking fifty-two wolves.”

He glared at her. “I kicked alpha ass for you, as requested. Now you’re on your own. Who’s Even?”

A large, hard-eyed male strode out of the group, his attitude radiating aggression. “I am.”

Calder wondered if the man intended to challenge him on the spot. He didn’t seem bothered by Leif’s demise, but he wasn’t sporting the happy grin some of the other wolves were. He eyeballed the mark on Calder’s arm and then snorted.

“She’s not on her own. She claimed you.”

Even didn’t sound happy about that fact, which made…one of them?

“Explain.” Calder wasn’t in the mood for fairy tales or bullshit, and he had a feeling that Even was good at both.

Even pointed at the bite mark on Calder’s forearm. “That’s a mating mark right there.”

Right. He almost smiled, except that wouldn’t fit with his bad-ass Viking image. A mating mark sounded…permanent. And he liked the sound of that. It was the werewolf plus-ones he could do without.

“Explain,” he growled.

Tyra didn’t look scared. She looked—happy. “Even’s right. I claimed you. You were available. I wanted you. I took you.”

“You were planning on telling me this—when?”

She waved a finger in his direction as her answer. A middle finger.

His eyes narrowed. “The middle of next week? Or maybe never?”

“Remember: you owe me for the knife thing.” She flashed him a grin.

“The mating thing happened before the knife thing,” he pointed out.

“Details.” She smiled at him again and the happy wattage made him want to forget that she’d apparently set him up to become the new Alpha.

“I’m not a wolf.”

She shrugged. “It’s helpful, but not a job requirement.”

He looked around at the wolves. They weren’t a real prepossessing lot. It was downright hard to believe they were supposed to be responsible for the end of the world. He could see why Tyra wanted to look out for them. There were a few wolves that needed to go—two hard-eyed males were already slinking away and, from the assessing look Even shot the pair, it was good riddance. Maybe some wolves did need killing. The others, though, seemed hopeful. They weren’t a bunch of cute-eyed puppies like those fucking YouTube videos Var liked to send everyone, but they’d do.

“You realize,” he said, running a hand down Tyra’s back and resting it on her ass, “that if I’m the Alpha then you’re at the Viking’s command.”

The way his little mate’s eyes widened, she hadn’t considered those ramifications. He grinned. Yeah. The learning curve was going to be fun with this one.

***

Tyra pulled free and ran, her boots flying over the snowpack. He didn’t know whether her backwards glance meant Chase me or Stay the hell away but he needed to find out. He started to jog after her.

A hard arm stopped him in his tracks. What. The. Hell. He considered ripping the offending appendage off, but he recognized the arm.

“You’ve got it bad,” Vikar said, like the man was commenting on the weather and not coming between Calder and his mate.

No. Right now he had himself a wolf Pack and no Tyra. Anything else was incidental.

“I’m done here.”

Vikar nodded, like Calder had ponied up more than three words. “Of course you are. But not out there. Hang out with me for a moment.”

He might have just inherited a werewolf pack of his very own—merry Christmas—but Vikar was still his commander. If the man was laying down orders, he had his reasons. Not following Tyra immediately was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he stopped.

“You want to think this through,” Vikar said.

Frankly, Calder didn’t think the situation required all that much thinking. When he ducked inside the turf hut Even motioned him toward, the werewolf lair was definitely no Four Seasons. In fact, in terms of amenities, it barely ranked one step above the pit cells. That was going to change.

“Her things,” Even growled behind him, sounding pissed off. Calder agreed with the unspoken condemnation. Tyra deserved far better than an old sleeping bag and a pillow. The old wolf Alpha might not have appreciated her, but Calder did.

Part of him was tempted to make the wolf pack pay for what they’d done to her. Leif had kicked her out. The bastard would have been happy to let her die alone in the snow. He thought about that while he picked up her sleeping bag and folded it into neat squares. He didn’t think she’d want it back but, if she did, he’d have it for her. He added the pillow to the stack, stalked outside, and handed the lot to Vikar.

“Put these somewhere safe.”

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Vikar’s mouth. “You fall hard.”

“I don’t fall.”

“Uh-huh.” Vikar tucked the bundle under his arm. “That’s why you’re picking up her things. Just in case she wants them.”

“I’ll give her better,” he vowed.

Not all of the wolves had hurt Tyra. Even, for example, had clearly been working his way up to a coup. The other man had been strategic. Although Calder appreciated a good strategy, he also wanted to howl because Tyra should have come first. He’d put her first. So part of him wanted to rip Even apart and let the wolf bleed out for her. Unfortunately, he’d also seen the affection in Tyra’s eyes when she’d greeted Even. That likely put rending and tearing off-limits, at least for today.

Vikar slapped him on the back. “Good man. Now ask yourself why.”

It was simple. Wasn’t it? “She’s mine.”

“Because she mated you.”

That too. “I don’t care why.”

Var grabbed the sleeping bag. “You do. Care, that is. That’s why you’re carrying her crap around and getting ready to run after her. I’m also betting that’s why we’re going to be hosting a werewolf sleepover in our keep.”

Vikar looked pain. “He can build his own goddamned keep. I’ll share the island, but that’s as far as I’m going.”

That unfamiliar sensation of something unfurled in the pit of his stomach and worked its way up until it hit him in the damned heart. He’d planned on taking care of Tyra’s wolves. His wolves. He hadn’t expected his brothers to volunteer for the job as well.

“You can kick their asses into shape,” Var volunteered.

“Or keep them from getting neck-deep in Ragnarök.”

Too late for that, but the thought was a nice one.

He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Tyra would like it.

When he caught the hell up to her.

“Can I go after her now?”

Vikar grinned. “Yeah. But ask yourself one question first: are you going to tell her that you love here now, when she’s in her furry form, or are you going to be able to hold out until dawn?”

***

Her wolf yipped, eager to play the chase-me-catch-me game. She’d circled the camp once, twice, but Calder hadn’t seemed interested. He was having some kind of heart-to-heart with Vikar and Var. With a bark, she gave up and tore off across the snow pack. Not too many hours of darkness remained, but she had enough time for a good run.

Dawn was coming fast. With each step she took, she was more Tyra and less wolf. Neither was sure when Calder began to chase her, running behind her in a hard, even rhythm she’d bet he could sustain for hours.

He did want to play.

Or throttle her.

Her wolf picked up the pace, driving faster, but he seemed content to trail her. So…the question was, did she want him to catch her? The wolf recognized its chosen mate and so did the woman. When she scented the hot spring up ahead, that seemed like as good a spot as any to bring things to a halt. Or to get them going in a new direction.

The hot spring was tiny, a small circular pool of heated mineral water surrounded by a spongy carpet of grasses. Steam rose off the water, a welcome contrast to the ice-studded fjord on her right. She dropped down near the edge, hidden in the shadows, panting. The horizon had lightened from inky black to a dark gray. She’d be human again in less than an hour. She should head back to camp and her clothes. Covering the distance she’d run, barefoot and naked, would be unpleasant.

Calder stepped out of the shadows. “You ready to stop running?”

Was she? The wolf considered that, enjoying the chase-me game. Chasing was fun. Catching was…sexy. Popping to its feet, the wolf half-danced around the hot spring, daring the man to follow.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Calder said. He sounded tired.

The wolf hesitated, concerned.

And Calder pounced, moving quickly. He wrapped strong arms around her, pulling her close.

“Caught you.”

The wolf sensed possession. Tenderness. And something else she was scared to put a name to. Calder didn’t seem in any hurry to move on, though, so the wolf settled in cautiously, leaning against him. They sat there together, watching for dawn and the sun coming up over the horizon. He held her, rubbing one big hand over her fur, and her wolf whined happily. Having a mate was good.

Right.

Tyra’s human side knew Calder didn’t believe in happily-ever-after and forevers. He didn’t make promises and he wouldn’t marry her like Vikar had Pure. What they had here would have to be enough.

It was certainly more than anything she could ever remember having.

8

The sun came up and Tyra shifted in his arms. She looked uncertain—and naked. Very, very naked. Her sweet curves were a sight he’d happily look at for years to come. For forever. Viking Berserkers were near-immortals and the wolves were also long-lived, if Pack life didn’t kill them. He was talking about a hell of a lot of years and that was an emotional gut shot he hadn’t expected.

“Welcome back,” he said roughly.

Rather than easing out of his arms as he’d expected, she burrowed closer. He had clothes for her in his pack, but he could give her those later. Instead, he wrapped his coat around them both and held her closer.

“Are you mad?” she asked, blunt as ever.

“About?” Would she always leave him off-balance?

She pushed back slightly, angling her head so she could see his face. Her shift had left her beautiful hair standing up in wild, crazy clumps around her face. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

“The fight. Assuming the Alpha role in our Pack.” She hesitated.

“Your mating me without asking?” He suggested.

“Yeah.” She didn’t look away. “That too.”

“You hired me to get a job done,” he said. “I did it.”

She chewed on her lower lip and he ached to suckle that lip, to run his tongue over the plump curve and taste her. “I might have left out a few details.”

“There’s no might about it,” he told her.  She was cunning, smart, and ferociously protective of her Pack. She’d recognized that Leif’s unchecked ambition and ill-thought out assassination plan put all of the wolves at risk—and she’d acted. He respected that.

“So answer my question,” she said. “Are you mad?”

“Another time, you should trying talking to me. You’d be surprised what I’m fine with.”

He felt her relax subtly in his arms. “So there’s going to be a next time?”

Knowing his mate, yeah. She shifted in his arms—getting comfortable—and he tucked her closer, burying his face in her crazy messed-up hair. She’d hired him to do a job—and she’d saddled him with a wolf Pack. He could walk away. He thought about that for a minute, but somehow leading the Pack no longer seemed so strange. He could do it with her. In fact, he’d bet she’d kick his ass if he tried to do it without her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said into her hair.

“And my Pack?”

“I’m keeping all of you.”

She rubbed his chest with her hand and he wished he could see her face. Know what she was thinking.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t want her thanks—he wanted her. His mate.

“You hired me to do a job. You said: Fight for my Pack. I’m still doing that.” He stopped dead, thinking about the motley assortment of wolves waiting for them.

“Hel. You all need more work than the worst fixer-upper. Our Pack is dysfunctional, rude, violent, and has a definite attitude problem.”

“True.” He heard the laughter in her voice.

“If you were going to give me a wolf Pack as a wedding gift, you could have at least made it a good Pack.”

“Wedding gift?”

“Yeah.” To hel with it. He shrugged out of his duster, laid back, and pulled her on top of his chest. “Arms.”

He worked her into his leather coat. She looked cute—and still bare-ass naked. Parts of him woke right up and started reminding him about the things they could do. On his coat. In the hot spring. So much for the trying the romance thing—instead, she got a hard-as-hel in-love Viking.

“You gave me a Pack. I’m giving you bunch of surly, bad-ass Vikings who go furry when they’re pissed off. I might actually be getting the better end of the deal.”

“We have a deal.” The expression on her face softened. For him. He could kind of get used to having her look like that at him.

“I can get a ring. We can have a ceremony. None of those. All of them. Whatever you want.”

Shit. Now he was babbling.

She stared at him, stunned. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. You’re mine. I’m yours.” God. What if she didn’t want him? What if she said no? “If that’s what you want.”

“God. Yes.” She kissed him hard, like they’d been separated for months or years instead of just a few hours. Maybe they’d kiss like this every morning, make up for her shifted time with kisses and closeness and sex. He’d be on board with that plan.

“You could say it,” he suggested hoarsely when they surfaced for air long minutes later and he was seriously thinking about rolling her over and showing her exactly how much he loved her.

“Maybe in the hot springs.” She winked at him. “I have all sorts of ideas about that hot spring.”

He stood swiftly, scooping her up into his arms. “I liked that jacket.”

“No, wait. Calder!” She couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up as she frantically tugged her arms free.  “I’ll say it. I love you.”

But she was already arcing gently through the air toward the water, leaving him holding his jacket and his heart in his hands.

It was the work of a moment to strip off and then join her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on. That was a good start.

He looked her in the eye. She had such pretty eyes. “I love you too.”

Ragnarök, wolves and all, he had his Tyra right where he wanted her. Close to his heart.

MORE FROM ANNE MARSH

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Books by Anne Marsh

Contemporary Romance – Smoke Jumpers

Burning Up (Smoke Jumpers, Book 1)

Slow Burn (Smoke Jumpers, Book 2)

Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers, Book 3)

Smoking Hot (Smoke Jumpers, Book 4)

Sweet Burn (Smoke Jumpers, Book 5)

Heated (Smoke Jumpers, Book 6, coming December 2014)

Contemporary Romance – The Hotshots

Reburn (The Hotshots, 1)

Hot Zone (The Hotshots, 2)

Fired Up (The Hotshots, 3, in Hot Shots)

Contemporary Romance – Men of Discovery Island

Wicked Sexy (Men of Discovery Island, 1)

Wicked Nights (Men of Discovery Island, 2)

Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island, 3, coming April 2015)

Paranormal Romance – Blue Moon Brides

Tempted by the Pack (Blue Moon Brides, Book 1)

Pleasured by the Pack (Blue Moon Brides, Book 2)

Claimed by the Pack (Blue Moon Brides, Book 3)

Taken by the Pack (Blue Moon Brides, Book 4)

Captured by the Pack (Blue Moon Brides, Book 5, coming October 2014)

Paranormal Romance – The Fallen

Bond with Me (Fallen, Book 1)

His Dark Bond (Fallen, Book 2)

Savage Bond (Fallen, Book 3)

Non-Series Books

One Hot Cowboy

The Hunt

Ready for more alpha Vikings? Check out Viking’s Orders… Pure’s story.

When Vikar’s big hand moved deliberately from the handlebar to Pure’s thigh, she tensed before she could stop herself. Willing, she reminded herself. She’d agreed to this. The heat of that hand stroking a small circle on her thigh was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and she relaxed. Let her head fall forward. He smelled of leather and male and beneath the coppery blood, a woodsy, outdoor scent. The sun was going down, dusk settling over the road and leaving the riders alone in a sea of shadows. Leaving her impossibly aware of that hand moving up her thigh. Her breath caught in a little whimper when his hand found and cupped her.

“Vikar.” She swallowed nervously, but there was nowhere to go.

“You promised,” he said roughly. “You agreed that you’d be willing.” He didn’t move, just touched her, waiting. “I agreed I wouldn’t hurt you. If I don’t touch you, you will be hurting, baby. I’m too big to take you if you’re not ready. So I’m going to touch you right now, just a little. Right here, on the outside of your pants.” His thumb made a slow, sensual pass down her sex.

She was wrapped around him, riding his bike. And she’d be riding him within the hour. She’d given him her word—now he was giving her his. He’d have what she’d promised, but he’d keep his part of their bargain, too. No pain. Uncertainly, she relaxed, the tension leaving her legs. Allowing him to take charge seemed wrong, but the motor’s smooth gait sent waves of delicious vibrations through her. And that damned hand of his didn’t move. She wriggled, rocking into him.

“See?” He whispered his question. “That’s not bad at all, is it? You could enjoy that much, couldn’t you?”

“Vikar…” The heavy, hot weight of his hand between her legs had her waiting for something she didn’t recognize.

“I bet,” he ground out, “you have fantasies, right? Maybe, when you’re alone at night and somewhere between the dream world and awake, maybe then you think about finding yourself a big, hard mercenary. Someone tough enough to give you exactly what you need.”

“I—” Her voice broke. Maybe indeed.

Unexpectedly, he offered her reassurance, the promise of a softer side she could reach. “I’m just going to give you pleasure now, and all you have to do is enjoy it. You can do that, can’t you?”

She could. “Yes,” she answered.

“Close your eyes,” he suggested. “While I stroke this soft pussy of yours.”

HEL’S BELLES

Hel’s Belles MC
Book One

by

Dayna Hart

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Welcome to an alternate universe, where the discovery of an element called aether has allowed for near-magical inventions and the rise of steam- and clockwork-power. While there are stories set in the medieval timeline of this alternative universe, beginning with Lessons Learned in the Love Is… anthology, this story begins a new arc of the story, in the year 1938, with a group of Norse gods who have found their place running steampowered-motorcycle clubs.

Hela is the daughter of Loki, queen of the realm of Hel, the place the weak, infirm, and elderly go when they die. Tired of seeing people wind up in a place she doesn’t believe they belong, she’s decided to do something about it while she’s in the mortal realm: she helps rescue women from the men who abuse them.

When Two, a berserker, second in command to the largest motorcycle club in the country, and the son of Odin, is appointed to mentor her through the birth of her new club, the attraction is immediate and intense.

But Hela has seen too many cases of love gone wrong. She’ll need to learn to trust both Two and herself if they have any chance at love.

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DEDICATION

To my boyzes, who put up with Mom-on-deadline while I wrote this. To Hub, who did the same, but doesn’t want me to apologize for being a writer, anyway—my life would suck without you.

As always, The Shiny Group (you know who you are). I can’t imagine doing this writing gig without your support, and I’m glad I don’t have to. I love you all to bits.

To The World’s Fastest Readers: Kate, Crys, and Ella, I owe you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Lori, thanks for holding my hand while I wrote this one, and for not letting me quit even when I really wanted to. You were right.

Zoe, thank you for all the organizing and formatting and hand-holding. This has been a great experience, and I’m grateful to you for it.

And to you, dear reader: thank you.

1

Steeltown, United States
September 10, 1938

I need booze.

A fight.

Maybe some hot, sweaty sex.

Something to take the edge off.

I’d thought the ride would do it—wind in my face, tires humming along the asphalt, going twenty-five miles an hour, except through the turns. Usually it’s enough to forget everything, like I become part of the universe in a way no automobile would ever allow. The steam-powered motorcycle beneath me rattle-bangs, the water-recycler’s kicked in, and then it returns to its usual hungry growl. I’m grateful for the distraction from my thoughts, my mood. Another woman left the clubhouse today to return to her abusive husband, and while it’s her right, and I will forever support her choice—it makes me want to scream, all the same.

Maybe I’m expecting too much of people. Humans have their limitations, after all.

Limitations which are, I will admit, offset a little by their ingenuity and inventiveness. They’ve come up with such brilliant things, like my ‘cycle, for one.

Aether is new here in the States, though they’ve been using it in Europe for years. So little is understood of its properties, but it affects things, makes unlikely scenarios…more likely. Agitated aether lenses in goggles can allow the wearer to see things that unfolded in the past, or so I’ve heard. Export of them has been strictly regulated since The Great War.

But while the Europeans have been content to continue the same uses for which the aether has been known to them for ages, the Americans have been experimenting. Trying it in engines, in airships, in operating rooms and medicines.

Some of the results have been phenomenal, like the airship colonies—huge ships tethered together in the sky to create a city in the clouds. Some of that same aether-technology powers my steamcycle, which can run for hours on a few gallons of water.

Some uses, unfortunately, have had less success. But humans are entrepreneurial is the point; they will keep trying. Though, truth be told, as long as I have my ‘cycle, I don’t much care what else they do with the aether.

I turn into a spot beside Aegir’s Gin Mill and stop. In the sudden quiet after I cut my motor, I can hear the sound of music from behind the Mill’s doors. I stretch muscles that are far too tight for the short ride from Cogham to neighboring Steeltown and Aegir’s. It’s the stress. And it’s not the risks I take to rescue these women, or the frustration I feel when they return home afterward.

And it’s not the revue, Les Folies Belles, or the nightmares and headaches running a nightclub brings. Or that it’s the first legitimate business I’ve owned in this lifetime—although it’s also a convenient way to launder the finances from my slightly less legitimate sources.

No, it all comes down to the meeting I have in thirty-six hours, when Allfather will arrive to hear my petition. Odin himself, though we don’t call him that Earthside anymore. I have all my paperwork in order, and there’s no reason he should deny my request, but who knows what gods think? And Allfather has some kind of history with my father, which could mean just about anything. Probably something bad, but of course, Loki didn’t give me any information before he left town.

Again.

Sliding off my ‘cycle, I run my hands down the denim of my trousers and straighten my jacket. An autumn wind shears through the lingering summer heat, ruffling my hair as I open the door to the bar. It’s amazing to think that just five years ago, this would have been against the law. Secret codes, special knocks—all of them to enter dark little basements and indulge in booze that tasted like nightmares. And now, Prohibition’s over, and I can simply walk into this club and order a drink. Or several, if I should choose.

I take a moment to let my eyes adjust. Candlelight flickers on the tables, casting pale, gleaming fingers on the polished wooden floors, the bar counter, and the crystal on the shelves behind it. Black, circular tables squat amid wooden benches padded with tufted black leather. Gas chandeliers cling to the ceiling, and light flickers and dances among the crystals but doesn’t leave the heights for the floor. Little clouds of blue-grey smoke puff up like sinuous dragons from long, elegant holders held by long, elegant women, twining with their amber brothers floating from the stubby cigars held by men with stubby fingers.

Most of the patrons are dressed in their Sunday finest, though in most cases, their threads are showing signs of wear. Me, I’m comfortable in my Levi’s and a billowy blouse. I get a look or two, though they don’t last long. I have that effect on people, sometimes. Still spoiling for a fight, I’m almost disappointed no one looks too hard or for too long.

A four-piece band stands at the back of the club. One of them is playing a steamophone, a clockwork variety of saxophone, though the instrument is old and a little shabby, much like the musicians themselves. Their singer is a mechanical bird, literally a canary, the voice of some woman stamped onto a series of small disks inserted in the clockwork belly, the noise amplified through a trumpet-shaped beak.

Aegir welcomes me with a smile and the club’s signature drink—an Aegir’s Sun—poured even before I sit at one of the small tables. It looks like sunlight in a tall glass, and tastes like it was brewed in someone’s bathtub. But the booze is, if not good, least forty proof and reasonably priced. I know how lucky I am to be able to afford it, these days. Aegir gives me a long look and shakes his head. “You’re not going to cause any trouble tonight.”

It’s not a question. “Of course not.” I grin at him, but in the mood I’m in, I don’t suppose I’m likely to convince him.

“Just be careful, yeah?”

“Sure.” I’m already slipping toward the dance floor. I throw myself into the Savoy Swing, the Carolina Shag, and more varieties of the Lindy than I actually know, though it doesn’t seem to matter, so long as I keep moving. Dancing doesn’t really purge the last of my adrenaline, but it does keep me from getting completely corked. The world does have a definite happy glow to it, and I’m warm from the inside out when he walks in.

Tall, dark and handsome. Not just his coloring, either, though his eyes and hair are dark, and even in the dimness of Aegir’s his skin is sun-warmed, but there’s a look about him. Something wild. He’s dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of riding boots. He must have come in on a ‘cycle of his own, and I scan the front windows to see if I can catch a glimpse, but only my own orange motorcycle gleams under the streetlamps.

I watch him cross to Aegir and order a drink, surprised when he takes a tallboy full of the sunlight drink. I watch him take a sip, and wait for his reaction. His lip doesn’t curl, he doesn’t cough—instead, he gives an appreciative smile. He must have known what it tasted like and ordered it anyway. I’m not sure what it says about him, or me, that I like him for it.

He grins at something Aegir says, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. Dimples dig into his cheeks like furrows in a garden, and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Disgusted with myself for staring at him like some sort of gawking child, I rejoin the dancing. I’m in the middle of a sugar push when I catch him staring at me. I fumble the steps and try to bring my attention back to what I’m doing, but his attention on me is like a weight. A warm, distracting one. I keep on, though—I need this too much right now to be distracted.

Dancing helps, but I’m not tired enough, and I push myself through the steps. Every now and again, I take a break to order another drink and leave Aegir a ridiculous tip, since he won’t let me pay for my hooch. On one such trip, a man catches me by the arm when I falter, and I thank him. But when I try to pull my arm from his grasp, he holds tighter, and I give him a withering glare. He simply laughs.

“Let go of me,” I tell him quietly.

He calls me a name I’ve heard a thousand times before, and I sigh. Not only does he have to be a bad egg, he has to be unimaginative, too? I cast a quick look at Aegir. I tried. Really, I did. Surely he sees that? He doesn’t seem to see anything, however—he’s busy providing glasses to the patrons at the other end of the bar.

Then it’s too late to worry about Aegir. The man holding me is trying to pull me close, muttering the things I have, purportedly, caused him to imagine with the way I dance. I wrench my arm from his grip, and he growls, lurching after me. “Come on, baby.”

He seems to think that might actually work, and I shake my head. When he reaches for me again, I turn on him, aim my fist at his solar plexus, another to his throat, and he’s gasping for air. He turns purple—not from the lack of oxygen, but rage—and I brace myself for another attack. The guy snarls and leaps for me. He stops up short, like a dog reaching the end of his line, as Aegir’s hand claps around the guy’s shoulder. From the way he flinches, I’d guess the bartender has hit a pressure point. “I tried,” I tell Aegir, who nods and waves me away.

I’m surprised by the understanding, and grateful. Then the rush of the fight leaches away from me like water down a drain, and I work my way toward a table. I’ve been dancing much longer than I thought, and I’m tired. Still on edge, but exhausted. It’s not a combination I like.

When I stumble, a pair of strong arms catch me, and I look up, startled, into a pair of dark eyes. “You okay?” he asks, and his voice is deep, and it catches something in me so I’m like a guitar string, plucked and thrumming. I nod, grateful for his support, because I feel a little dizzy. I’d like to blame it on Aegir’s Suns, but I haven’t had one in hours.

It must be the dancing.

I reach to steady myself and my fingers wrap around something metal. Surprised, I look down to see pewter fingers curled around mine. A copper coil runs from a ring around the thumb and around the thick wrist. I try to blink away the hallucination, but it stays, and I realize it’s truly a metal, mechanical hand.

From a distance, I see my own fingers dancing across the silver and copper surface, tracing the design etched into the back of his hand like a tattoo. “It’s beautiful,” I breathe, and realize he’s gone still behind me, his entire body rigid around me like a wall, keeping everything else out. Still without really meaning to do it, I slip my index finger into the curl of his hand, tracing the line of his fingers. His fist opens and I trace the whorls on his fingertips that look like fingerprints.

He shivers.

“You can feel that?” I whisper, and feel his nod. “Amazing. It’s stunning work,” I say, still softly. “Beautiful.”

“You’re one of the first people to say so.” His words aren’t bitter, though they could be. Instead, they’re matter of fact, and somehow that seems sadder to me.

I tip my head to look at him over my shoulder, and a sudden wash of heat and awareness flows over me. I’m a modern woman—which is just a polite way of saying that I don’t worry much about what people think or say about me, and I tend to do what I like. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve met a man in a gin mill that I’m interested in making time with, though this would be the shortest of acquaintances. Now that we’re touching, I don’t want him to let go.

“You don’t dance?” I ask him, and there’s a hitch in his breath, something I can feel, with his chest against my back the way it is, rather than hear.

Though there’s no sign of it when he answers. “I might manage a turn around the floor.”

He turns me in his arms, right there, and instead of leading me into a swing or a hop, we waltz.

And he dances like a dream.

I’ve never been a great dancer. It’s surprising to no one who knows me that I’m too prone to leading, but this— it’s less about following or leading, and more like we simply agree on how to move, like we both think the same thing at the same time.

Our gazes lock, and I realize there are flecks of gold in his eyes, which are a shade of blue as dark as midnight, and not the brown I was expecting.

The band seems to notice us and segues into a jazz-infused waltz number. I’m all too aware of his body—our thighs, occasionally brushing, his hand around mine, the metal one against my back. It seems to run a little hot, but the pressure is soothing. And although his hand is in a perfectly appropriate space at the base of my spine, the heat of it slides down my tailbone, sparking an answering heat inside me.

“Tyr,” he says, when, in a sudden fit of nerves, I ask his name.

“Tour,” I repeat, with a little more vowel and less rolling of the r. My accent’s gone to pot. “Hela,” I tell him. Short e, short a, so that I always wondered if my name was supposed to be Helen, but Loki ran out without finishing even that.

“You took care of things quite nicely, earlier,” he says. There’s frank admiration in his gaze, and it sends a warm flush through me.

“Aegir might never forgive me,” I answer with a grin. “I told him I’d try to behave. And I really did, but…”

He laughs outright, and we continue to glide across the floor.

After moments or hours, he leans forward to whisper in my ear. “You have a place to stay?” he asks, and I nod, unable to speak. People come from miles around to visit Aegir’s—the man himself is a legend, as is his establishment—and it occurs to me Tyr must be a tourist, and thinks I might be one too.

“Want to come home with me, instead?” he asks. From any other man, it might seem forward, even insulting, but there’s a gentleness in his voice, a genuine question in his eyes, like he’s not really sure what I’ll say. It’s incredibly attractive, and so I don’t consider it for long. I’m a modern woman, after all, and since I got everything else I was looking for when I came to Aegir’s, it would be a shame to give up getting it all. I give him a quick nod, and he smiles. It’s brief, but it’s enough to transform his face, and in such contrast with the predatory heat in his eyes that I shiver in his arms.

*

The woman isn’t corked, thank the gods. She had a few Aegir’s Suns—one of the few things I have missed since leaving Cogham— but she’s steady on her feet. Waltzing with her showed me that much. Also how well she fits against me. I’ve spent most of the night imagining how she would feel, and then, with her curves pressed up against me, I imagine even more.

I’d never have asked her to come back to the hotel with me, though, if she’d showed signs of being corked. I can’t really believe I’ve asked her back at all. I haven’t done that since—

I don’t realize I’ve been flexing the metal replacement hand Dian crafted for me until it whistles. I tilt my wrist, and a puff of steam coughs out, away from me and from her, so neither of us gets burned.

Well, it’s been a very long time. Long enough that the guys have started calling me re-virgin-ated.

When she’d looked at my hand…I’d waited for her red-painted lips to curl in disgust, and I’d only tensed more when she hadn’t. The only people I like less than the ones repulsed by the replacement are the ones who seem overly interested in it. Like I’m an extension of it, instead of the other way around. But she’d looked at the hand, called it beautiful, and then she’d stared into my eyes while we danced. No attempt to sneak glances toward the gears and wires, no flinching when the heat of it pressed against her back. If I hadn’t wanted her before that easy acceptance, I sure as hell wanted her after. And I had wanted her before. She’s a sheba, for sure, with her dark hair and eyes and skin a shade of brown it makes my suntan look pale.

I’m kind of surprised she agreed, though, and I’m torn between not wanting to break whatever spell’s between us, and making sure I’m not a cad and that she’s doing this of her own free will.

We share a taxi. Neither of us talk, but I fill a lot of the back seat, and our legs can’t help but brush against each other. Our fingers overlap on the seat between us, and I run my fingertip along her skin, enjoying the satiny feel of it. The way she shivers at my touch.

I’ve borrowed a room for the night in a boarding house through a friend of a friend. As we climb the stairs to the bedroom, our bodies make small, incidental contacts that remind us why we’re here. Just outside the door, I stop.

“You sure?” I ask her.

Her eyes, huge, and so dark her pupil and the ring of color are inseparable, manage to burn like smoldering coals. No sign in them that she’s too lit for this, or that she’s feeling any regret. She meets my gaze and licks her lips, like she can hardly wait to taste me, and the image of that shoots straight through me.

I press her against the wall, bracing myself with the replacement above her head, so she can duck out under my arm if she wants to. When she raises up on her toes to meet me halfway instead, my other hand tangles into the spill of her hair, dark like a shadow behind her, and I use my elbow to tuck her in against my body.

The kiss is all heat and teeth and need. I invade her mouth with my tongue, spearing her in a not-so-subtle mimicry of what I want to do with my already-throbbing cock. She presses against me, and I hoist her leg over my hip, notching myself into the space between her legs. She moans and grinds against me, and for the first time in more years than I can count, I’m afraid I’m going to spill inside my trousers.

A noise startles me into breaking the kiss. We share sheepish grins, and I mutter something about the room as I fumble the key from my pocket. I manage to socket the key into the lock, but damn if it doesn’t seem to have some sort of symbolism that makes me flush. She slides through the open door silently, and I close the door behind me. A finger of light pushes through the gap in the curtains and lays in a stripe across the bed. Like it’s pointing the way.

She lowers herself to the bed—which is made with a military precision—and looks up at me. The light falls across her face, bringing out blue-black lights in her hair. “I’m using birth control,” she says quietly. It’s a startling admission—it’s still a contested practice, and though it’s currently legal, who knows what the new year will bring. I realize she’s expecting some kind of reaction, but I don’t know what to say, so she keeps on. “Not that I do this sort of thing often. But…” She shrugs. “You don’t have to worry, is all.”

She looks away from me, but gets back to her feet and presses the gentlest of kisses to my mouth. A promise, or a reminder, maybe, or something as simple as hello. I’m rock hard again, or maybe still, and there are way too many clothes in the way. There’s just enough space between us that she can slide her hand up under my shirt. Her palm is warm against my skin, and I groan when she traces her nails across my pecs, down toward my abdomen. She reaches the waistband of my jeans and reverses her route, and then her nails drag a line across my nipple before she pinches it lightly.

The sensation twists me—or untwists me, maybe, because I can’t hold back anymore. I splay my hand against her back and tug her tight against me, pressing my arousal into her pelvic bone. She doesn’t shy from it. Instead, she shifts her hips to fit even more snugly against me, and I might really be finished before we’ve even started.

I step back, and she growls. I give her a quick grin and pull the shirt over my head, and the growl cuts off and turns into a moan of appreciation. I cannot help the smug expression I know spreads across my face. I’m nowhere near as big as some of the guys I know, but I work hard, and my body’s sculpted, even if I’m not as bulky. Seeing the way she’s eyeing up my chest, I puff up some.

And I start to undo the buttons of my jeans, leaving them to hang loose at my hips. It’s another chance for her to back out, though if she does, I think I might break down and cry. Instead, she reaches for the buttons of her own jeans and shimmies out of them.

The sway of her hips as she does it makes my throat go dry.

Her shirt’s still on, but her panties went with her pants, and when she moves her arms just so, the hem of her shirt lifts to give me a glimpse of the top of her thighs, and the curls at the junction of them, and it’s unconscious and so sexy I could watch her for hours, but need claws at me and I know I wouldn’t last.

She looks up at me, the need in her eyes a mirror of my own, and I couldn’t deny her if I wanted to.

And I really don’t want to.

I skim both hands up under the back of her shirt, lifting it out of the way, and hoisting her onto my hips in one swift movement. My erection has sprung free of my pants, and I angle her to probe her entrance with the head. The surge that presses me into her—finally—also topples us onto the bed, and I prop myself up on one hand to make sure I haven’t hurt her. She grabs the denim of my trousers with both hands, pinning me against her.

“Don’t you dare stop, Tyr,” she breathes.

“I’m not going to last,” I tell her, mortified when the words leave my mouth, but she just laughs, of all the damn things.

“You’ll make it up to me. But I—” She doesn’t finish the sentence. It doesn’t matter, though. She’s given me all the permission I require, and I sink into her, into my need and longing and I lose myself to the slide of my skin in and on hers. She’s wet and clenching around me, and I’m not going to last long, so instead, I think of exactly how I’ll make it up to her later, and that sends me over the edge toward my own completion. I moan and try to catch myself, but she shifts her hips just so, and arches her back, and I’m undone. I grind my teeth to cage the possessive roar that wants to escape me, and instead merely a growl accompanies the fierce release that comes over me. Pounding into her without any restraint, I lose myself, and she meets me thrust for thrust.

True to her word, she doesn’t seem to mind that the first time went so fast, and it turns out she has some ideas of her own on how I can make it up to her. Ideas I indulge, and we spend what’s left of the night, and most of the next day, bringing each other to new heights of passion.

But somehow I’m not surprised, when I wake to afternoon sunlight shimmering outside the window, to find she disappeared while I slept.

I am surprised I feel something that might be disappointment.

2

Love is a weakness.

I stare at the woman seated across from me, and I try not to feel disdain, or pity, or anything but sisterly affection for her. I can’t help but shudder at the thought of needing a man so desperately that I can’t imagine my life without him. Even one who treats me well, though her husband has done no such thing.

Men have their uses, of course—I color a little at the memory of the many ways Tyr and I used each other the evening before—but they can serve that purpose without involving emotions, let alone a home and finances.

On that note… “No money in your own name?” I ask.

She shakes her head, and the small diamond in her nose flashes in the light. “Nothing.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, thanks to the ring of bruises around her neck, bright purple against her brown skin above the blue-and-gold edging of her sari. I want to kill him, this man who promised to love, honor, and cherish her, but instead beats her to make himself feel powerful.

I’m limited, however, to what little I can do. To rescue her from her abusive husband, I have to take her from her entire life: friends, family, home—not just the house she shared with him, which is enough of a rarity in this economy, but her neighborhood, the ability to navigate shops and know which shopkeepers to trust—she won’t even be able to keep her own name. I’ve been told it’s a death of sorts, and while I can understand that… she would be safe.

Why isn’t that enough?

I try to keep all of that from her while we talk, however. This is a woman who’s been not just hurt but injured at the hand of someone who, presumably, loves her. Someone she loves. She doesn’t deserve to feel that I’m judging her on top of it all. And I’m not. I’ve seen this too many times. It’s not her I judge, it’s him, and my own inability to do anything about it. But that wouldn’t be appreciated, either, so I turn my attention to the task at hand. “Have you ever held a job?”

Priya nods, and we cover her employment history. She’s smart, articulate, and beautiful, and though her work experience rather predictably petered out when she met her husband, she has marketable skills. And…I flip another page in the biography Thora’s written. “A degree?”

She smiles. “The University of Delhi. Before I came here.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?”

She gives me a pained smile. “No. My husband was a visiting lecturer from a University here in the States. He is very handsome. Very charming. When he came back to the States, I came with him. Leaving my arranged marriage behind.”

One of the more extreme cases of isolating a woman from her support network that I’ve ever seen. “Can you return home? Would you like to?”

“No.” She doesn’t offer to explain, and I don’t need her to. The finality in her voice is enough.

“We’ll be able to find you work, though you might find yourself in a job for which you’re overqualified,” I tell her and she gives me a wry smile. This is probably not a new circumstance for a woman who graduated university just as the Great War ended and the boys started coming home. “You’ll get a small stipend to start with, to help you until you’re earning for yourself.”

Thora slips into the room, her heels making enough noise to announce her arrival, and she places a tray of tea on the table between us. She pats Priya’s hand gently and gives me a quick look. I nod. “Full treatment,” I tell her quietly. “Do we have the connections required to invent a degree from a decent school? With a focus on—”

Priya provides the information, and Thora writes it in her neat shorthand on a piece of paper from my desk. “I’ll look into it. We might.”

“That would be great. References can be handled in the usual way.” She nods, a gleam in her eyes, and I offer another small thanks to whatever power it was that brought her into my life. The usual way is a series of forged letters and, occasionally, hired actors to play the part in telephone calls.

I return my attention to Priya. “It will take a few days to get your paperwork in order. We have somewhere you can stay until then. We will take care of you. You will be safe.” She closes her eyes as if she’s tasting the word, and I let her enjoy it before I ruin it on her. “It will not be easy.” Though a damn sight easier than dealing with her husband, I think, though I don’t say it. I never say it. “You can have no contact with anyone you know. You’ll be moved to a new city, given a new name.”

“I will die,” she says in that croaking voice. As hard as I am working to school my expression, she must see something in it, and she smiles a little. “I am not being dramatic or protesting. I mean that in order to do this, Priya will have to die, so that I can live.”

“Yes,” I tell her simply, grateful she understands.

I look into her eyes for a long moment. “Is there anything at your home you will want to take with you?” She starts to shake her head, but I hold up my hand to forestall her, though I keep my voice gentle. “Please, don’t answer right now. If you do think of something later, you can telephone us from where you are staying. No matter what it is, telephone us, and we will retrieve it for you.” I hold her gaze. “If you return to that house, we cannot help you.”

She nods, and I’m glad to note her gaze is steady, as are her hands when she reaches for her tea. “I understand. But there is nothing of him I want to keep.”

“No family heirlooms?” She shakes her heads. “Photos?”

She flinches. “May I have a cigarette?” I hand her one silently. “At one time, I would never have believed just the idea of seeing his face again would make me afraid.” She lights the cigarette silently. “I quit, three months ago,” she says with a humorless laugh. “I kept a pack in my purse and hid money in it, instead.”

Another few puffs on the cigarette before she speaks again. “He’s a handsome man, my husband. With eyes the color of sand, and hair the color of sunlight.” She pauses. “Do you have a young man?”

I shake my head, though the image of midnight eyes and suntanned flesh flashes through my mind.

She looks away—not at the wall of my office, but as if she’s staring at something far off. “I never would have believed it, when we first met, that the very sight of him would make me hurt.” She shakes her head slightly, her hair shimmering like a waterfall down her back. “I never want to see him again. Not even in photos.” She finishes the cigarette in silence and stabs it out in the ashtray. Then she nods. “There is nothing I want from there.” Despite her mangled voice, the determination in her tone is clear.

And I feel a rush of affection. I could grow to like her. We’re a little alike, she and I. The knowledge turns me cold. Intelligent, brave, beautiful women can fall prey to love. I know this, but this is the first time I have ever admitted it could happen to me, unless I remain diligent against it.

I wonder sometimes if he knew. If, before I was born, my father knew what he was going to consign me to and decided to have me anyway. Knowing him, he might even have thought it was a reward.

But it wasn’t. It was a constant, painful reminder: love is a weakness.

* * *

Allfather arrived with little pomp or circumstance. I gave my presentation, handed over the supporting paperwork, and then led them to a table to eat and watch the Folies. Once the club closed for the night, they’d asked for a meeting space, and I surrendered my office, though it had been tempting to put them somewhere I could eavesdrop.

Instead, I sit at Thora’s desk, examining the grain of the wood, the inlaid pattern, while just beyond the door, I can hear the indistinct rise and fall of voices as they decide my fate. I’m glad I didn’t let any of the other girls wait with me. Knowing that their fates are being decided by a handful of high-ranking members of The Wild Hunt would probably drive most of them mad. But the fact of it is, we need their support. Of the steamcycle clubs that have erupted across the country in the few short years since the cycle’s invention, The Wild Hunt is the biggest and the most powerful. To open my own club without approaching them would mean death for any and all of us. Worse than death for some of us, considering who the president of the club is and who I am.

It isn’t like we don’t have anything to offer. We’d be a support club, pledge loyalty to The Hunt, and live by the code. I have a business, connections, and the finances to back it up, a rarity after the Depression ended and the latest recession began. Most of the money came from bootlegging during Prohibition.

Those were good times.

I think the decision would be made already, if this proposed club wasn’t all women.

There are bound to be rivals of The Wild Hunt who will see an all-female club as a weakness. An easy way to make their bones with Allfather. He could avoid the hassle altogether and deny our petition.

But he won’t.

Will he?

I tap my feet, as if it’ll ease the jittery feeling in my stomach. Everything is riding on this. I have one hundred years Earthside before I have to serve a century in Valhalla, and I’ve put all of my resources into this venture. Not to mention my reputation—not just Earthside, but in Asgard, too. Being Loki’s daughter has often worked against me.

And even more important than any of that: women’s lives, as well as their afterlives, count on this. Not that Allfather knows that. Maybe I should have told him everything. Not just the public business plan, but the secret mission it will be financing. I get to my feet and pace the small room while I—again—go through the pros and cons of telling him. On the plus side, he might see how important this is, how we could save even just a few women from being sent to Hel—a land meant for the weak and sick—when these women are nothing of the sort. Perhaps they could find their place in Helgafjell, instead, where they would live afterlives much like the human lives they deserve.

But try convincing the gods to change policy.

I sigh, deciding—again—that I couldn’t risk sharing the truth with Odin. It would only take one man in that room to believe that women are somehow lesser, that a husband has the right to do what he wishes with his wife, whether or not she agrees, or that it is his obligation to correct her behavior—

And the men in that room, deciding our fate, they are not modern men. They are gods and demi-gods.

I collapse into the chair, and the leather creaks beneath me. I wipe my hands down my thighs, the denim of my Levi’s rough and bracing. The slight burn focuses my thoughts. I couldn’t have taken the risk. These are people’s lives and afterlives I’m fighting for. As always, having made the decision not to tell him, calm settles over me.

“It’s not a good idea.” The voice pierces the door like an axe’s blade.

Another voice answers. Softer, so I can’t make out the words, but no less steely for it.

I lean forward on my chair, unwilling to go so far as cross the room and press my ear to the door, but eager to catch every word I can.

“She wants to start a club, halfway across the country from The Wild Hunt, just for dames, led by dames?” A snort. “And she has the nerve to say her club will be a support club? We’ll be supporting them. She probably just wants us around as goons, to provide muscle when she gums up the works.” Words in the old language pour through the door toward me.

He…does know that’s anatomically impossible. Right?

Soft voices again, three of them, I think, but Big Voice cuts over them all. “It’d be bad enough if she was just anyone, but she’s not. She’s Loki’s dóttir.” Another string of the old words, and this time, they’re directed at my father, and cold anger has me out of my seat and through the door before I can consider what I’m about to do.

My voice is cold. As cold as Hel on a punishment night. “You can say what you want about my proposal. About me, even—I can see how that might matter. But my father? That’s just dirty pool.”

The man in the center of the room—what will be the main meeting area of the clubhouse if my petition is granted—turns to peer at me over his shoulder.

Tyr.

Of course. He’s one of them.

Demigods should really have tattoos. Or light-up signs, so I could tell them from regular folk. But we all fit in so neatly here, except for the immortality thing. The complete lack of childhood never bothers anyone—but when our hair doesn’t start going grey, people freak out.

I’m a little gratified to see the same surprise on his face that I’m pretty sure is on mine. It’s like watching dice rolling—a thousand expressions tumble over his face in the time it takes me to inhale, and it finally stops—snake eyes. A coldness passes over his face, and I’m surprised I feel chilled by it. Like I should expect anything else just because—

Memories of that night flash through my mind. That first time, he hadn’t lasted long, but I’d been chasing my own completion and found it with him. Then he assured me he’d make up for it, and he had, worshipping my body with his mouth and his gaze and the wicked things he could do with his hands. He’d brought me to completion, and then again, higher and higher each time until I thought, perhaps, I might have turned into a Valkyrie, and this is what it was to fly.

If he’d known I was Loki’s daughter—that night would never have happened.

We hadn’t meant anything to one another. The entire night was instinct and need, not love or companionship. And even though I’ve thought of him more than once in the past twenty-four hours, I certainly never thought I’d see him again when I tiptoed out of his room while he slept.

So this sudden, stabbing sensation of betrayal at seeing him here, arguing against me—it’s ridiculous.

I try to swallow it away.

Tyr finishes turning toward me, and the blankness in his gaze makes me suck in a breath. “Hello, princess,” he says, and I flinch at the coldness of his tone.

“Queen, actually.”

He sketches a little bow that manages to be both elegant and entirely sarcastic.

“Enough!” Allfather’s voice cuts through the space between us like a knife. I jump nearly out of my skin. I’d almost forgotten anyone else was in the room.

Tyr bows his head and steps back, and Allfather moves into the space he’s vacated.

And that is when I realize what I’ve just done.

I’ve interrupted their meeting.

Church.

So called, because it’s sacred.

Blast.

*

She burst into the room, all fury and righteous indignation, and I threw Allfather a see what I mean look. Because this is what I meant. Loki’s unpredictable, and we were lucky to see the back of him. It isn’t unreasonable to worry his dóttir might be the same. I didn’t expect her to confirm it so quickly. But when I look at Allfather, he’s choosing to ignore me.

Fine. I’ll wash my hands—the flesh one, anyway—of the whole thing. I don’t even know why I bothered—Father hasn’t let me help in any meaningful way in—almost as long as it had been since I took a woman home. It’s not like he was about to start allowing me to help now.

Then I looked over my shoulder and saw her. Wearing denim trousers again, with a corset-like shirt that puts her assets on display and leaves her arms bare, showing an array of tattoos. Of course it’s her.

My gut tightens, and the blood rushes from my head. Twenty-four hours since she’d slipped from my bed, and instead of forgetting about her, I’d just come up with a very long list of things we hadn’t managed to do in the time we’d had together.

“Hela Lokisdottir.” Allfather’s voice is loud in the suddenly very quiet room.

That night, I’d muttered, groaned, and even screamed her name, and I hadn’t put it together. But she pronounces it differently from Allfather. And, if I’m being honest, the Lokisdottir part always had more of my attention.

Oh, gods and goddesses. I slept with Loki’s dóttir. And for the last twenty-four hours, I’d been imagining doing it again. And again.

Those big, dark eyes of hers stare up at me like I’ve cut her open, and I swallow back the apology that wants to spring free. I didn’t know who she was when I met her at Aegir’s, and I’d guess she didn’t know me, either. If she did, she’s one hell of an actress.

Instead, we’re just two people with the worst kind of luck.

And I have proof she’s as reckless as her father—going home with some man she didn’t even know. I won’t be a cad and mention it, but the knowing sits under my skin like an itch.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Allfather draws her attention from me to him, and it’s like a weight lifts.

She sighs. It’s loud in the now-quiet room, and it’s hard to believe there’s anyone here but the three of us, but the highest ranking officers of The Wild Hunt are here, perched on the edges of tables or lounging in deep, red-upholstered chairs. I clasp my hands behind me and bow my head, but I can’t keep my eyes off her. It’s hard not to remember the way she looked at me—under me—that night, and the sound of her voice is all raw silk and good whisky. Luxuries a man like me can’t afford.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. But I did hear him—” She shoots me the sort of look that could wound a man. Assuming he cared about her opinion, and of course, I don’t. So I shrug my shoulders to help the words roll right off me. “I heard what he said about my father, and I couldn’t just let it go.”

“You care about your father so much?” Allfather’s face is just visible beneath the floppy brim of his enormous hat. The monocular over his good eye gleams, the lenses fanned out around it like a peacock’s tail. The full focus of his attention is on her, now, and it’s made men quake, literally made them piss themselves with fear, but she just stands a little taller, and her voice stays steady. Pride rushes through me like a warmth, and I try to ignore it.

“Caring isn’t the point,” she says with a shrug. “He’s my father.”

Allfather’s gaze cuts to me, then, and I’m not as good at ignoring his silent communications as he is at ignoring mine. He’s telling me this is the sort of loyalty a father should inspire in his child. That I should take notes. Being his son as well as a member of The Wild Hunt hasn’t been an easy ride. For either of us, I suppose.

He turns back to Hela. “Will your father be wearing your patch, should we grant your position?”

She grins, and that fearlessness and her genuine amusement hits me like a punch to the gut. I knew she was beautiful, but—this is something more. “The Belles will be an all-female group, Allfather, so I don’t think he’d qualify.” Her smile turns falsely innocent, and I’m not surprised to see an answering gleam in Allfather’s eye, even through his monocular.

His voice, however, is all seriousness. “And if Loki turns himself into a dame?”

She lifts her eyebrow, and then falters, as if she can actually imagine him doing just that. A sadness passes over her face, and I’m surprised at how fragile it makes her appear. Her voice is tight when she answers. “No. Even then, I would not offer him a patch.” It cost her to admit that.

“But you’d interrupt Church for him.” Not a question, exactly, from Ragnar “Rock” Lodbrok. One of the newest officers, the boy seems to think if he doesn’t speak, we’ll forget he exists.

She answers him anyway. “He’s my father. And until you grant my petition, there’s no reason not to give him my loyalty. Indeed, should you deny me, he might well be the last ally I have.” It’s not quite a threat, but it’s close. I wonder if she knows that.

“And if we do grant your petition? You realize that will mean that every member of this club will be deserving of the loyalty you now lavish upon your father?” I see where he’s going with this and resist the urge to smile. It would only look smug.

“I do,” she says. “Every member.”

Caught you, I think, and I do smile now, letting it be downright arrogant.

“Even him.” She jerks her head to indicate me. Not caught at all, then. She’d just played along with it. Damn. “But not until you grant my petition.”

Allfather sits back and tents his fingers. The monocular flares, activated by some unspoken command, and sends shimmers of blue light across his froth of beard. “I am not, at this point, prepared to grant your petition outright.”

What the hell? His mind’s been made up since before we left home. What’s he up to?

Hela looks unsteady on her feet, and without thinking, I step close enough to her to brace her, should she need it.

“I am, however, willing to grant your club, the Hel’s Belles, prospect status.” She struggles with that but manages a grateful response that he waves away. “Just for six weeks. That will give us time to see how your club operates, and ensure our two clubs can work together.” He lifts his aether-wand, a slim steel tube the length of his arm with a coil of copper around it. “It will also give us time to help forge the bond between you and The Wild Hunt.”

She tilts her head, considering, and then nods. “Thank you, Allfather.” She sounds sincere, if a little disappointed.

“Love and respect, prospect Hela Lokisdottir.”

“Love and respect,” she tells him, and then turns to me and repeats it without any irony or resentment.

“I hope I didn’t cause any offense earlier.” Thoughts chase themselves across her face and I smother a grin. “With what I said about your father, I mean.”

She laughs. “You didn’t, actually, say anything I’ve never said. To his face.” Though her tone is light, her voice slides into a wryness that makes it impossible to doubt she’s telling the truth, and it isn’t a comfortable one for her.

I reach to shake her hand, and light gleams off the metal. I’ve forgotten. Again. But she reaches for it and shakes my hand without comment, and why I’d expect any different from her, I can’t imagine. The receptors in my fingertips get the same information I can see in her eyes—a softness and steel that strike me as entirely feminine. Something familiar, in a bone-deep way that goes beyond sharing a night in a stranger’s bed. Something in my chest dislodges at the sight of her, the feel of her, and for a second, it’s almost impossible to breathe.

And suddenly I’m very grateful her club is halfway across the country, and I’ll be going home tomorrow, because then I won’t have to worry about the way she makes me feel. “Best wishes,” I tell her, and it’s as sincere as her pledge to the Wild Hunt.

“There is one condition,” Allfather says, and her fingers twitch in mine. Protective instincts surge through me, and I hold her tighter. Father’s conditions are legendary. “I would like to keep one of my men here, to keep an eye on your club, and learn its workings.” He grins, looking for all the world like someone’s benevolent grandfather, which makes me stiffen even more. “And yes, to provide you with muscle, should you find you are in need of it.”

“Thank you, Allfather.”

She sounds grateful, and I want to warn her. Father’s not doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He has an agenda. He’ll probably stick Rock with her—the kid doesn’t seem thrilled about this new club, and he’ll make life a nightmare for her while staying inside the bounds of the aether-bond.

“You will be on loan to the Hel’s Belles for the next six weeks, Two.”

My road name is like a slap to the face. I nod, because if I have to speak to him, I might explode. What the hell is the old man up to now? Is he that determined to be rid of me awhile? Trying to keep me from the meetings he has back home with Freya? Or does he think I don’t know about them?

He twirls the wand in his hand like a baton, and I grind my teeth. He’s kept our aether-bond light, just enough of a tether he can communicate with me across distances, but not so much it influences how I feel about him, but if he cranked it up a bit, he could reduce me to a slavering dog. He’s threatened it more than once, though he’s never followed through. “Of course, Allfather,” I finally manage to say, and he grins again.

I look over at Hela, and I see her figuring it out. Two, a shortened version of Tyr. Finally she asks, “Two?” and I nod. Her expression is all of course you are, though she doesn’t say the words out loud. “I’ll be grateful for your assistance,” she whispers, and I’m lost to the shape of the words from her mouth.

Which must be why I do it.

I let a slow, lazy grin spread across my face and move my thumb in a lazy circle on the back of her hand. “Seems we’re going to have a bit more time together.” I think about every, single thing we did together in that borrowed bed, and every fantasy I’ve had since, and I make sure it all shows on my face. She tries to look pissed off, but her eyes go wide and glassy, and her breathing is a little uneven. My index finger is registering her pulse, and it’s definitely elevated.

She’s not unaffected by me, and I will work with that. The fact she is Loki’s dóttir might have deterred me before, but now, it merely makes the pulse between us more attractive. Something we both want, with a side of revenge? Perfection.

Then Allfather claps my shoulder with one hand, and reaches with his other to shake my hand. My flesh hand, that is, and I try not to contrast that with how readily Hela twines her fingers with my metal ones. “Do me proud, son,” he says, and then, in a voice so low only I can hear, he adds, “Perhaps that paternal loyalty she put on display is contagious.”

My gut wrenches, and he slips away, the rest of the officers of the club trailing behind him, leaving me with nothing to say, even if he was there to hear it.

Damn him.

3

I watch Allfather and his entourage leave my office, closing the door behind them, and the click is loud in the sudden silence. I’m not really sure what just happened here.

Tyr—Two—is directly in front of me, and I’ve forgotten how huge he is—he’s broad enough I can’t see around him, and tall enough he has to hunker down a little to meet my gaze. It’s like my entire world has become nothing but him. The corner of his mouth twitches up in what could be a grin, though a predatory one. “You’ll be prospecting with The Wild Hunt. For six weeks. At the end of it, should I decide you’re suitable, you’ll be granted your charter.”

“You seem quite unconvinced I’ll manage any such thing.”

He shrugs, lazy and dismissive, and I actually close my hand into a fist to resist the urge to slap him. “I know you,” he whispers into my ear, and I shiver at the heat of his breath on my neck as much as the menace in the words.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know that you brought home a man, on absolutely no acquaintance. That’s all the proof I need that you’re as impulsive as your father. It’s not a leap from impulsive to irresponsible, especially considering your familial connection.”

His words leave me cold. “I would argue that bringing home men on no acquaintance is, firstly, of no matter to anyone except those men and myself...” I step into his warmth, frustrated that I still find him attractive, that the memories of that night we spent together simmer in the air between us. “And secondly, that such liaisons might be the more responsible choice, as there is no opportunity to confound things with messy emotional entanglements.” I bite my tongue before I can say anything more, but he’s on those words like a wolf on a rabbit.

“You prefer your…liaisons…without emotional entanglement?”

“Yes.” I make the word as biting as possible, because I know he’ll twist anything else I say to suit his needs.

“Well, then,” he says. “It seems to me that this latest assignment of mine should work out well for both of us.”

My mind stalls. For a full minute, I stand there trying to figure out what he’s just said. Finally, I blurt out, “What are you suggesting?” His finger trails down the line of my neck, and I shiver.

“No emotional entanglements. Unlimited liaisons for the six weeks I’m here. Meanwhile, I’ll help you with your club. Get the Belles up and running, make sure you’re set up to be a going concern. Establish your safety in the area. You can pick my brain for any aspect of a motorcycle club, and I’ll answer. I’ve been Odin’s second in command for long enough that I’m a valuable commodity.”

“Isn’t that what Allfather just told you to do?”

“What he said and what he meant are two very different things. He wants me to keep an eye on you, and, should it be in his best interests, to sabotage you.” His voice is positively wicked. “Six weeks?” I feel like Little Red Riding Hood facing down the big bad wolf, but I’m relieved I don’t sound it.

“Six weeks,” he agrees, “of what we had the other night. Of all the things I’ve imagined in the twenty-four hours since, and anything I come up with over the next ninety days.”

I’m turning into a molten puddle, right here at his feet. I can’t let him know that, though. Can’t let him see how his words arrow straight into me and make me want. Any man I’d spent more than a week with before had wondered why I didn’t swoon, why I was so cold. I’d never have been able to broach the subject with a man: six weeks of uncomplicated pleasure, with no accusation of coldness if I don’t pretend affection, and no false heartbreak when things, inevitably, ended.

No, I could never have suggested it, would never even have dreamed of it, but now he has, and it’s everything I ever wanted. So I give him my most withering look, and I’m pleased to see him straighten. I can’t meet his eyes without grinning, so I stare at his collarbone while I speak. “And what about those things I have imagined?”

His breath catches, and I know I’ve surprised him. His eyes flash, promise and need in equal measures, and the air between us seems to thicken. “We could find time for that, too.”

Six weeks. To do every single thing I’d been thinking about since the first second I saw him. Like I was going to say no. Still—. “And at the end of the six weeks?”

He shrugs and withdraws a little. “I go home. You have your club. Everyone wins.”

I shouldn’t be so excited about this. Wouldn’t be, if I were a nice girl, if I wanted at all to fit into the world around me. But I’m Loki’s daughter, and fitting in has never mattered to either of us. “All right,” I tell him. He blinks at me like he can’t believe it, so I improvise. “But we get to start with something from my list.”

His eyes go dark and hot again, and I can’t help that it makes me shiver. There’s something incredible about having this sort of power over him. To know that just my words have him wanting.

“You’re on,” he says, and crushes his mouth over mine. I press myself into him, molding my body to his, and meet his passion with my own. It only takes a minute before he gives an already familiar groan.

*

When she takes the head of my cock into her mouth, it’s all I can do to stay on my feet. I was already feeling a little dizzy—she agreed to my so-called terms rather readily, though I should have expected her to do the unexpected.

But now, she’s flicking her tongue just so, and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet. When she purses her lips and adds a little suction, orgasm begins to spool through me, a familiar tightening in my gut, the tightening along my shaft, my balls— I try to think of something—anything— to keep from embarrassing myself (again) and coming too soon, but she cups one hand beneath me, pressing a spot at the base of my cock that makes stars explode behind my lids and I choke back a noise that might have been a groan or a sob. “Hel,” I say, and I don’t know if it’s her name or a curse, and I’m not sure it entirely matters right now.

She slides back along my length, releasing me from the warmth of her mouth into the cool of the air, and it should be enough to take the edge off my need, but the contrast, somehow, makes it worse. Another curse leaves my lips, whether in English or any of the other languages I speak, I really don’t know.

“You’ll make it up to me later,” she says with a wicked grin, and she’s still grinning when she pulls me deep into her mouth, into her throat, and I plunder her hair with my hands, holding her against me while I fuck her mouth. “I’m going to—”

She just takes me deeper, and I roar as my release fills her. Her throat works against the head of my cock, sensitive after orgasm, and I brace myself so I don’t collapse entirely.

4

The next morning, Thora pokes her head around the door and waves before she goes to set up coffee—a luxury I’m grateful to be able to afford.

I turn off the radio, twirl a pencil in my hand before realizing that will only make her nervous, put it down and fold my hands on top of the desk. That makes me feel like some sort of dictator, so I pick up the pencil again and pretend to be writing something until she comes in the room and we can talk.

“Good morning, boss,” she says, her voice entering the room a few seconds before her. She stops just inside the threshold, and I examine her. White blouse, crisp and fresh, tucked neatly into her A-line black-and-white polkadotted skirt. Blonde hair, curled at the nape of her neck, full lips set in a firm line above a strong jaw. There’s more than a hint of her father in her appearance, despite the thick, meticulous red lipstick and lash-blackener. “You look thoughtful.”

“As opposed to my usual vacuous expression?” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I shrug. What I can’t tell her is that I was thinking about the bizarre reproductive processes of the gods.

Not that the method of reproduction aren’t the same, but the method of inheritance is utterly bizarre. Eir believes there is some as yet undiscovered science to it. My father would have me believe that it’s a question of concentration during the act.

It seems to me that would take half the fun out of it.

However it happens, the results of a god having sex with a human are unpredictable at best. He could sire an ordinary person—relatively speaking. The human children of gods lead long lives of good health, and, thanks to their father’s compulsion to meddle, they tend to lead charmed lives.

Their other children, for whatever reason inheriting a measure of godliness of their own, are known as demigods. They have one childhood, which they promptly forget as they enter the twilight of their existence as a perpetual twenty-something. Every hundred years, unless our body is too damaged to last that long, they—we—are returned to whatever realm we belong in, and recharge.

My realm is Hel. Where the sick, the infirm, and the elderly go when they die. And, since gods cannot resist the compulsion to meddle, and since my father is Loki, I am queen of the realm. This hasn’t endeared me to—well, anyone. The other demigods hate that I have my own realm. The gods and goddesses wonder what I’m up to, and the humans that wind up in Hel—they would rather be anywhere else.

Thora, my best friend, and the right hand of each of my endeavors, is one of Thor’s human daughters. He made sure she made it through the Depression safely, though I haven’t detected his influence since I met her. I imagine, if he was paying any kind of attention at all, he’d have rescued her from the man she’d married. Or, once I’d done that, he should have arrived and taken her out of my circle of influence. His attention must be somewhere else. Europe, I suppose. Like everyone else these days. Even Allfather, though he himself remains here, has his Valkyries stationed in France, Russia, Japan—

But since Thora knows nothing of her heritage, I can’t admit I was wondering about her father, and whether he’d come to her rescue if Odin denies our petition, or if she’ll be another casualty of my failure. “Nothing,” I say. “Well, nothing more than the usual, that is.”

“You can’t actually do it all yourself, Hela.” There’s an edge of worry in her voice.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you talking like that, okay?”

She smiles distractedly. “How did it go last night?” Panic flickers across her face.

“It’s all right, Thora. Sit down.”

“They didn’t turn us down. You’d have been at my house last night with a pack of Camel’s and a bottle of hooch.”

“They didn’t turn us down,” I agree.

“But there’s something, or you’d be grinning and serving me mimosas.” She perches on the edge of a chair, her ankles crossed neatly beneath her, and lowers the mugs to the desktop. “Lay it on me.” Her hands are folded so tightly I can see her knuckles whiten.

“It’s all right, really. We’re prospecting for six weeks, and then Allfather will be back to give us our charter.”

“Oh.” Her voice is tight. I wait for her. She’s going to need a minute to sort through what I’ve said and decide on her reaction. When she does, she smiles brightly. “So it’s all right, then.”

“Like I said. Twice.” I smile to make sure she knows I’m teasing, reach across the desk to grab a mug, and cradle it in my hands. “How was your night? You go out with your young man?”

She grins and fluffs her hair, and that’s more than enough answer for me. I lick my lips, ready to share the rest of what Allfather laid on us when Two walks in the room.

“Hela,” he growls. Thora starts, and I’m on my feet and around the desk in case I need to intercede.

“You’re early,” I tell Two, and give him a look to warn him we’re not alone.

Thora looks up at me, her eyes wide, and I nod to let her know it’s okay. “Maybe you could make Two a coffee, while I find out what has him growling like a bear?” She smoothes her skirt and nods.

“Thora, this is Two. He’s Allfather’s—gift. He’s going to help us set things up, make sure we’re running things the way he’d want. Two, this is my right hand, my best friend, Thora.”

Thora doesn’t get up, she just looks over her shoulder at Two, and then returns her attention to me. After an examination that takes her less than three seconds, she smirks at me over the rim of her mug. “Well,” she says when she finishes her sip, raises one eyebrow at me, and then turns in her chair to face Two. “It’s very nice to meet you—Two, is it?” She reaches out a perfectly manicured hand to shake his, and I tense.

When I look up, Two’s eyes are on me. The world seems to stop a moment. I bite my lip as his hand comes up to meet hers, but I don’t look away from his face. It’s almost like he’s testing me, not her.

Thora’s fingertips rest in Two’s metal hand for a full second before she realizes something’s off. From the corner of my eye, I can see her pause, look down at her fingers in his, pause again, and then she shakes his hand as if she’s done it a hundred times before.

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, and give Two the smuggest look I have in my collection. And he barks out a laugh.

Thora looks at me, and I squirm a little. We’ll be talking about this later, I can tell already. “I suppose I’ll go brew another pot and leave you and God’s Gift—that is, Allfather’s gift—to get started.” She gets to her feet. “As if you haven’t already,” she says quietly as she air-kisses my cheek, and I snort. “Back in just a shake,” she says brightly.

Then she’s gone, and I’m left facing one very angry demigod.

*

“I keep falling asleep with you in my bed,” I tell her, “only to wake up alone.” The anger in my voice isn’t faked—I really was annoyed to wake in in my borrowed room, expecting her beside me, only to find empty sheets. I step toward her, and she tries to back up but hits the edge of the desk with her hip. “I don’t like it.”

I cup her cheek in my hand and lean in as if to kiss her, but stop with my lips just an inch from hers. Her eyes flicker as she looks from my lips to my eyes and back again. Trying to gauge how serious I am, I’d wager. I’m dead serious, as it turns out, which is a surprise to us both. “Don’t do it again.” The words slip out more like a plea than a demand. She nods, and I finally give in to the need to kiss her.

Before I know it, she’s fisting her hands in my shirt and pushing me gently away. She’s perched on the edge of the desk, and I did that, hoisted her onto it, and pulled her against me, though I don’t remember doing any such thing. I scrub a hand down my face. I’d been seconds away from taking her on her desk.

Her lips and cheeks are flushed with color, and her eyes are still wide and heated, but she manages to smile. “Not the best time or place for this, big guy,” she says, and her voice is cautious, but there’s a thread of laughter through it too, and it’s unbelievable, but I’m smiling back at her.

“Later,” I growl, and she nods.

“If you’re done mauling my boss…” Thora says from the door, and I thrust my hands in my pockets and step back from Hela, who is giving me a told-you-so look.

I thank Thora and reach for the mug she extends in my direction. There’s a moment where she seems to shrink back. Then she blinks, and that moment of what I’m sure was fear on her face is gone, she relinquishes the coffee to me, and turns to face Hela.

“We need to talk shop for a few, boss,” she says and cuts a quick glance at me that I’m not supposed to see. Hela just waves it off. Thora nods, picks up a clipboard from a table in the corner of the office, and Hela sorts some of the papers on her desk.

When I reach for one, she slaps my hand away. “These are the latest invoices, and I haven’t entered them.” She hands me a ledger and motions me to the chair in the corner.

With a smirk, I perch on the edge of her desk instead.

The sound of their conversation fades as I look through the numbers. Then a pattern emerges, and I interrupt them. “You’re getting linen service and laundry for what seems to me to be a steal.”

She waves a hand. “I helped the owner of the place out of a jam. She won’t take more than that. I’ve tried.”

“And the florist?”

“Another jam.” She looks a little uncomfortable, but Thora’s grinning.

“The caterer?”

She flushes. “I might have spoken to their union rep.” A pause, then, “During their latest round of contract negotiations. With a few…friends alongside.” She coughs. “They seem to think they owe me.”

I grin at her. “That’s called racketeering, you know.”

“Really? I had no idea.” We share a grin.

Thora throws her hands in the air when I interrupt again. “Is this really—The Cogham Police Department on your payroll?”

“Oh. That. Well, there might have been an incident with the police chief and one of the Folies’ dancers, and — well, he might have agreed to provide us security for a very reasonable rate.” She points to a few other entries. “These are them, too, when they help us out with … little things here and there.”

I flip through the pages. The pattern’s clear—low rates from people she’s helped out and from anyone who has employees in Union 408. And, of course, the police. She’s running her Folies on a budget that would ordinarily feed a family of six. She’s a dynamo, this woman, and I’m feeling further and further out of my depth, and as useless here as I am at home.

“Wait. Why are the costs for your hooch so high?”

“During Prohibition, I did a little bit of … gin running.”

Thora snorts. “A little bit? She was the major supplier for the entire east coast.”

Hela turns a little pink and waves Thora off. “No big deal. But some of my former competitors might hold a grudge.”

“You’re being utterly robbed,” I tell her.

She looks a little shamefaced and shrugs. “I know. I figured I’d let them get away with it for a bit and then rein them in, but—I haven’t quite found the right pressure point just yet.” She frowns.

Here’s something I can do, some way I can help, and I sit back with the ledger and make plans to do just that while she and Thora continue to work.

Thora begins to take her leave, and I rouse myself to bid her farewell. I rise, but stay in the corner, because I still seem to make her nervous. She speaks to Hela, but her eyes are on me when she says, “Appointment at three, remember?”

“I promise we will be utterly appropriate,” I say, as seriously as I can manage, though I can feel the smile tugging at my lips.

Thora grins. Just a little. Then she leaves, her heels tapping across the floor, followed by the soft sigh of the closing door. Hela crosses to me. “Would you mind if I took today’s meeting alone?”

I give her a look, curious, although it will give me the opportunity to follow through on this hooch business.

She pinches her lip. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but you’re only here for six weeks. And I will be doing business with these people long after you’re gone. If you’re here— well, either they’ll ignore me altogether, thinking that, of course, the big bad man must be the one in charge…”

“Or they’ll begin to act differently once they notice I’m not around. I’ll find something to do,” I tell her, more gruffly than I need to, because the gratitude in her eyes makes me feel too much. “Why don’t you give me a key, and I’ll meet you back at your place?”

*

No. A thousand ‘no’s wouldn’t cover my reaction to his question. “A key?” My voice has gone up so high I’m afraid it might shatter glass. He, the big oaf, doesn’t seem to notice it.

“We do have an arrangement.”

Of course we do. “But…” A key would allow him access whenever he wanted. Not just to me, but to my home, my life, and that’s not part of the bargain.

He leans in close, his breath fanning the hair at my temples and blazing a hot trail down my neck. “I can’t fulfill the terms of our agreement here, in your office, can I?”

The image of him doing just that—bending me over the desk and filling me with his not-inconsiderable length and breadth—makes it hard to breathe for a moment. And then I hear Thora, moving around outside, and the telephone on her desk begins to ring.

His lips nuzzle the space below my ear, and I practically melt into my chair, though I try not to let him know it. Wordlessly, I slip the keys from the drawer of my desk and peel off the key for my rooms. He takes it from me with a quick kiss—the sort that ignites something but doesn’t leave me longing. It’s like a promise.

And then he’s gone, waving to Thora on his way past, the taste of him still on my lips, and a sensation in my chest that I can’t quite rub away, even though I try.

Thora slips through the door before it finishes closing behind him.

“Priya’s papers will be here in a few days,” she says. “The Folies are running without a hitch, though we’ll have to hire a new bartender—ours has gone and enlisted.”

I nod, rubbing a hand across my eyes. “Priya is still somewhere safe?”

Thora’s grin grows impossibly wide. “I put her in one of the rooms in the clubhouse. There isn’t anywhere safer.”

I agree. The clubhouse is actually a warren of row houses, nestled together in an area of town that’s slowly become more industrial. The connected basements provide a perfect meeting space, as well as secure exits from each individual home. “How is she?”

“Settling in. She has a room to herself in the blue house—”

“With Katla and Etta?” It’s a good combination.

“Yes. They seem to have taken to her, though she still likes to spend most of her time alone.” Thora plays with the hem of her skirt. I wait her out. “I wish we could recruit her. She’s cool, tough, and brilliant. Her skills would be handy around here—she’s studied aether reactions and the properties of aether…” Thora sighs.

“It would be nice,” I admit. Even on short acquaintance, the woman’s impressive. “But her husband is too close. We need to get her to Chicogo. Farther, if possible. You know these guys—they aren’t going to let a woman go.” We both sigh in unison. “What we do is enough. It has to be enough.”

Thora nods. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”

“I know you didn’t.” I smile tiredly at her. “I was reminding myself just as much as you.”

“You should go home,” she says, and lifts an eyebrow when I flinch. “What’s going on, boss?”

I sigh. “Two, the BUG, is waiting for me.”

She grins. “He’s too cute for you to call him a big ugly guy, Hela.”

I groan. “I know.” I must be tired, because the next words fall out of my mouth without my permission. “That’s why I did it.”

She puts her hand on my wrist for a second, and then looks away. “I know. I just wondered if you did.”

I drop my head to my desk. “It’s temporary, Thora.”

She gives me a searching look and then nods. “Might as well enjoy it, then.” She winks and gathers up the paperwork—all of it coded—and puts it in the small safe behind my desk. “Go home, boss.”

I take her advice, enjoying the ride home, the wind in my face and the road humming away beneath me, but I can’t stop thinking about the moment I get home. He’ll be there, sprawled in my favorite chair, or seated at my tiny dining set. Dominating the space.

Despite my unease, I can’t quite suppress a shiver. Maybe I’ll be fortunate, and he’ll be in the bedroom. The image of him, naked against my sheets, waiting for my arrival, is far more thrilling than any other I’ve conjured, and I’m smiling at it when I open the door.

He is not in the living room, but the small dining table is set for one. I can’t tell from here if he’s already eaten or if it’s set up for him to dine any moment.

Two steps out of my bathroom, his shoulders filling the doorway and blocking the view of the room beyond. He stops at seeing me, and then moves forward with purpose. “I didn’t hear you come in. I was waiting for you.” He looks me up and down, as if he’s assessing me, and then he nods. “Get undressed,” he says gruffly, and I stare him down.

“Are you quite serious?”

“We have an agreement, Hela. One which requires you to be naked. So, get undressed. Or would you rather I undress you?” His eyes smolder, and he licks his lips. It shouldn’t affect me, but blast if I don’t go weak-kneed. The reminder of the arrangement helps put me at ease. This not an emotional entanglement. This is simply about accessibility.

“Actually, I am rather tired. Perhaps you should undress me.” I’m teasing, but he grins and steps closer, his hands already moving toward the buttons on my shirt.

“I have wanted to get you out of this since the moment I saw you in it,” he growls, and I am suddenly nothing more than liquid need. His metal hand is hot through the thin fabric of my shirt, and I shiver as the back of it brushes my breast. The nipple stiffens to a hard peak.

He ignores it and pulls the blouse from where it’s tucked into my jeans. He slides the fabric off my shoulders and down my arms, leaving me in my brassiere. At the look he gives me—as if his entire world has narrowed to the small part of my flesh he is looking at—and as his gaze travels, so does the heat of his notice, followed by the icy rush as the gooseflesh rises.

I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from begging him to touch me, to kiss me, to get me fully naked. I stand under his perusal and wait. His hands circle my waist, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband and then, slowly, moving around to curl beneath the front and loosen the buttons. One. By one. Brushing against the hair, there, so that it makes me even more aware of his touch, drawing closer and closer to the apex of my thighs, almost, but not quite pressing against the bit of flesh aching for his touch.

I arch into him, trying to press the contact, but he stays out of reach, and chuckles at my efforts, his laughter rolling over me like warm water.

Then, insane man, he lowers himself to his knees before me, and tugs the denim over my hips. His mouth is mere inches from the flesh still demanding his touch, but I know better than to arch toward him, to force the contact. He will act in his own time. As if to test my resolve, his breath huffs, hot and hard, against my flesh, and I tremble.

Once the pants pool around my feet, he cups the back of my knee and lifts me free of them, one at a time, his touch careful and solicitous. He rocks back on his heels and looks at me, every inch of my very exposed skin, and the expression on his face is worshipful. It’s hard not to revel in that look, to let it wash through me and make me feel powerful.

Then, finally, he leans forward, presses his mouth to my flesh, and my body bows, taut as a wire. His tongue is a warmth, a pressure where I need it most, and my eyes roll back into my head. He licks, suckles—I’m not even sure what he’s doing, but it feels like the most sinful pleasure. It goes on, long enough that I’d like to cry, to scream, the tension inside me building until I wonder if it will ever release. Then there’s a sharpness—he’s bitten me, a quick nip of his teeth—and immediately after there’s a suction, as if he’s kissing it better, and then, thankfully, my body seems to dissolve, like fireworks turning into confetti, and I feel as though I’m floating.

When I come back to myself, my hands are tangled in his hair, and his hands cup my bottom, helping to hold me upright. I give a strangled little moan and try to disengage from him, but he holds me too tightly. “You back with me, then?” he asks, and it seems to require an awful lot of energy to nod. “Good,” he says. “Have you eaten?” I manage another nod. “Better.”

He surges to his feet and his mouth, sticky with the residue of my juices, presses against mine. His tongue forces entry, and I’m still too weak with bliss to resist, even if I wanted to. “Hel,” he says, and I’m not sure if it’s my name or a curse. “I meant to get you to the bed.”

I realize at some point, he’d loosened his own jeans, and once again, he just barely frees himself from their confines and leaves the pants around his hips. He hoists me onto his hips and presses me into the wall, seeking entrance with his hardness, and I open myself for him, wrapping my legs around his waist and arching my back to allow him deeper.

He thrusts hard, slamming into me so that my shoulders slide along the wallpaper with a subtle burn. I resist the urge to scream, pressing my teeth, instead, to the solid mass of his shoulder, and then he growls, rolls his hips and slams home hard. Orgasm catches me unaware, washing over me so that I barely hear his own groan of release.

He carries me to the bedroom, depositing me on the blankets, removing his clothes, and climbing in to curl around me. We might have slept a while, but when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me, and it’s amazing how, in the space of moments, his gaze has become uncomfortable, like a weight or an expectation.

“So…why Two?” I ask him, tracing patterns on his chest when I realize how abrupt I must have sounded.

“Because I used to only have one.” He waves his flesh hand in front of my face. “I was Tyr the One-Handed for a while, but once The Wild Hunt started up, they started to call me Two.” He pauses. “I got the replacement a few months later.” He lifts his metal hand, and understanding flashes through me.

I laugh. “Perverse people you keep company with.”

He gives me a lecherous, if tired, grin. “We’re well suited to each other.” He turns serious a moment. “They also call me Two because I’m second. In command.” He takes a breath. “I’m also Odin’s son.”

She inhales sharply, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s clear she’s got a thousand thoughts running through her mind, and I wait her out. “It must be strange. Having him around.”

I trace circles on her shoulder with one finger. “In most regards, he doesn’t treat me like his son. But tell the rest of them that.”

She laughs. “I understand that all too well.”

I tense. Impossibly, for just a moment I’d forgotten who her father is. I look at her, and I don’t see any of him in her features. Her skin is dark, her hair and eyes almost black—her hair reflecting blue in the light, her eyes often reflecting nothing. Her features are fine, almost dainty, though she carries herself with such assurance that she manages to look fierce in spite of them.

Would I have touched her, had I known who her father was?

I doubt it.

Or perhaps I would have, if it had occurred to me that it might be a kind of revenge. Certainly he’s earned it, though looking at her, now, splayed against my chest, her hand resting over my heart, I can admit that she doesn’t. The thoughts jumble up and I find myself asking her what her father would think of us.

She doesn’t meet my gaze while she answers. “He’d have to stick around long enough to notice.” She heaves a sigh that seems to originate from her toes—I can feel her entire body move with it. “He isn’t around much. He gave me his birthright—my own realm!” she says with scorn. “He shows up for a week or so each time I cross realms, like any dad pacing a maternity waiting room, generally lays some information on me—never enough—and then disappears just when I think I’ve formed the perfect question to get whatever answer it is I most need.”

She pauses. “In short, he’s unreliable, infuriating, but I’m not honestly sure he would care what I do or who with.” She laughs. “Then again, he might surprise me and be outraged. Or proud of me — Odin’s son! Well done, girl.” She shrugs. “I really don’t know.”

We lapse into silence for a few moments, and I feel her tense and know she has something to say. I wait.

“Is that…what this arrangement is about? Getting back at my family?”

“No,” I whisper, and it’s true. “This is about you being a beautiful woman and me being a selfish bastard of a man.”

Her chuckle is low and sinful. “I’m selfish, too,” she says, and rubs against me as if to prove it.

“From now on, I think the rule needs to be that when you are home, you are naked.” I roll on top of her, thinking to take it slow, to punish her with wanting me. But as I hold myself above her, looking into those dark eyes like night skies to fly in, I can’t resist her. I kiss her, my erection pressed between us, the friction of her skin against mine almost too much to bear. “One of these days I will seduce you properly,” I tell her, and then I slide inside. She arches into me, taking me as deep as she can, and I groan loudly into the space between our mouths.

“It wasn’t seduction earlier?” she asks, laughter in her voice, but I can’t answer. Can’t speak of the way I want to taste her skin, the way I want to bring her to a kind of desire that makes the world fade into fire and need. I am lost to the feel of being inside her, and I plunge myself deep, chasing orgasm and the obliteration of thought.

5

I look through the paperwork and rub at my forehead. Something isn’t adding up, and I can’t find where the mistake is. I glance at the table where Two would normally sit and sigh when I realize—not that he’s not there—but that I was looking for him. How have I grown to rely on him so fast?

The thought sits uncomfortably, like a lump in my chest, and I’m rubbing at it absently when Thora pops her head around my office door. “Need anything, boss?” Her voice is cheerful, even though she’s been here all day. Her blonde hair is cut in a short bob that seems as un-tired by the day as she is.

I force a smile back at her and shake my head. “Is there still coffee?”

She produces a mug she’d hidden behind the door and I smile at her. “Have a few minutes for me?” she asks, and I motion her to the chair across the desk from me. “This is getting rarer,” she says quietly, and I look up at her. “Just us. No BUG.” She grins at the moniker for Two.

I look at her in concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much he’s been here.” And I hadn’t, but every day for the last week, he’s spent six hours in the office with me, going over paperwork, tightening up security at the clubhouse, training the new guards we’ve put in place—believing them to be there in case someone targets us for our connection to The Wild Hunt, of course, and not because of the women who use the place as a safehouse.

He leaves before me, early enough to see to things along the way—getting groceries from the local market, checking in on the tenants, as he calls the women who stay at the clubhouse full time. And then he telephones to tell me that dinner’s on, and I hurry home to join him in a meal, and of course, to fulfill our arrangement.

Thora shakes her head. “No, I didn’t mean that. It’s nice having him around. He’s useful. He unloaded crates today. Shirtless.” She grins at me and I shake my head.

“How is Priya’s paperwork going?”

Thora sighs. “Slowly. The photographer had some issue with the film he used to take her picture. There was a problem with the ink for the passport. The diploma will be here Friday, though, and I’ve lined up three references for her.” Thora twirls the hem of her skirt around her finger. “I’m going to miss her,” she says quietly. “I’ve taken to visiting the blue house to see her on my way home.”

I know what she’s not saying. We’ve had the conversation before. Rescuing these women, helping them find new lives, it’s good, but—Thora carries an anger with her that they’re the ones punished for their husband’s behavior. But we’ve never come up with a better plan.

“Is she getting stir crazy, yet?”

Thora flushes. “I’ve brought her a few motors to tinker with. She’s been extracting the aether and…well, I don’t really understand what she’s been doing, but she seems quite happy.” She grins. “Etta was even teaching her to ride.”

I grin. Etta’s a good teacher.

“She even met Two the last time he came out.” Her voice is deliberately innocent.

“How did that go?” I’ve worried about it—Two is so undeniably male, and Priya’s been through enough.

“She was quite impressed with him.”

“But…he’s a man.”

Thora laughs. “Do you think she can spend the rest of her life avoiding men? At first, it’s hard for some of the women to be around men, and it’s easy to respect that, what with the clubhouse and all. But as they recover—don’t you think it would be nice to have an example of a guy who isn’t all bad? One who treats a woman right? One who protects her and cares for her without smothering her or restricting her? One who loves without hurting?”

Her words make me hurt. “I think you have the wrong idea about us, Thora.” The words come out a whisper, and I realize it’s because I don’t like to hear it aloud. I put the papers down, and she laughs, and then looks up at me, wide-eyed.

“I think you might be the one who has the wrong idea,” she says.

I sigh, because I don’t know what he is. Not a friend. He started out as a nuisance, at best. At worst, a spy. He makes me question my code, like no one before him ever has. The Belles come first, now and always. And when I think about what we’re doing, it all seems so very clear: I need to keep him at arm’s length and maintain my priorities. Our arrangement will end, he will go back home, and life will go back to normal. “We’re simply enjoying ourselves until Allfather comes back. He’s Allfather’s second, for Pete’s sake. He’ll return with him.”

Thora gives me a look full of disbelief, and when she realizes she’s not going to make any headway, she glances at her watch—a tiny, gold thing that looks too delicate to function. Then she looks at the paper piled on the desk. “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”

“Go.” I tell her. “Enjoy a drive with your young man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turns, her skirt flaring with her movement, and sashays toward the door. The tap-tap of her shoes and the jingle of her keys fade as she moves toward the doors.

I look down at the paperwork and suddenly see why the numbers haven’t been adding up. We’re paying almost half what we were for our hooch. And it’s being delivered, rather than us picking it up. Two. He must have done something. I’ll have to ask him what—

Thora gives a startled yelp. I’m around my desk and heading for her before she manages to call my name.

There’s a woman in her arms, as if Thora caught her as she fainted. The woman’s black coat is wet and slick like a seal’s skin. Beneath the hem, a flash of red shows, and flat black shoes. Long, dark hair spills over Thora’s arms, and I hurry to her side to help support the unconscious woman. Without a word, we support her body between us and maneuver her to an upholstered bench, kicking the table out of our way. Once she’s lying down, the light catches her face and reveals blood, caked to her skin and matted in her hair.

“How on earth did she manage to get here like this?” I ask Thora. At my voice, the woman sits up a little and grabs the front of my shirt.

“He’s after you, Hela,” she says. “‘The bitch in charge’, he called you.” Thora’s heels staccato stab the floor as she races across the room to lock the door. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I told him everything, after a while. But I got away.” Her voice is triumphant.

I know her voice, now, though I should have recognized her before. “Priya,” I whisper. “How on earth did you get here?”

A smile trembles on her lips. “Aether,” she whispers, and though it clearly hurts her to do so, she smiles proudly. “I ordered some, like an idiot, from the store I always use. Still, I got here first. But he’ll be right behind me.”

“Lights,” I tell Thora in a loud, hoarse voice that is supposed to pass for a whisper. Thora slaps at the gaslight switches, and the room slips into darkness.

The darkness seems to calm Priya, as well as hiding us from view from the street. I whisper to her, soothing nonsense words. “You’re safe,” I tell her, praying it’s true. Praying I can keep it true.

“Oh, Priya,” Thora breathes behind me. She’s not wearing her heels, and made her way silently across the room to retrieve a cloth from the bar, which she hands me. I take it wordlessly to wipe Priya’s face. She’s slipped into unconsciousness, and though her breathing is regular, I’m terrified she’s slipping away.

The telephone rings, loud in the dark and quiet, and Thora and I meet each other’s gaze, and then, as one, turn to look out the windows.

“Go,” I tell her. “Telephone Eir. You remember the code? And then phone the police—ask for Erikson. Tell him to get here fast. Got it?”

“Of course I do.” Thora’s peevish answer makes me grin—I was worried she’d buckle, but I should have known better. The woman’s unflappable.

I listen to her speak into the telephone, though she’s too far away for me to make out the words. It’s enough to know she’s here, though I wish she was somewhere else, safe in the blue house, or out with her young man.

When Thora rejoins us, her face is lit by a cigarette held in her lips. She scissors it in her fingers and tells me Eir is on her way. She casts a nervous glance at the front door, and I follow her gaze, shiver, and motion for her to take my place. I rinse the cloth in the sink at the bar, return it to her, and then I prowl the room, looking for something I can use as a weapon. I finally find a heavy candleholder, and position myself beside the door. Fortunately, the curtain had already been pulled down, and I lift it just a little to peer outside. When I’m satisfied there’s enough light on the street to see by, and I don’t see anyone, I lower the curtain again.

Maybe he’s not coming. Maybe she lost him somewhere on the way.

The door rattles beneath my hand, I jump, tighten my grip on the candlestick, and reach for the curtain with fingers I’m surprised to see shake.

“Hela!” The word is a roar, and I flinch. “Open up.” I recognize the voice now and reach for the door, pull it open, and slam it behind Two. “What the devil is going on?”

“Did you see anyone outside?”

He shakes his head, takes in the candlestick in my hand, the rest of the room, and cups my face in his hand. “What do you need me to do?” he asks, and my heart thuds hard against my chest.

“Nothing,” I tell him. “A physician’s on the way with a police escort.” I’m breathing hard, and I want nothing more than to collapse into his arms and let him take care of things. That frightens me even more than Priya’s husband coming through the door, and I straighten to put a little space between us.

“What’s going on?” He asks, and I tell him, the words tumbling out.

“This is Priya. You met her, I believe. Her husband is on his way here, to kill her or retrieve her, I’m not sure which, though I’m positive he wants to kill me, because I’m the one who helped her get away from him. That’s what I do. In addition to the Folies, and the Belles—I help women get away from the men who abuse them.”

“Oh, Hel.” It’s definitely my name this time.

He reaches for me. I almost do it—almost melt into him and let him take care of it all. And then I remember: he’s leaving in just a couple weeks, and suddenly, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it. He’s home when I get there, making sure I get fed and otherwise taken care of. He’s helping with the business—even managed to trim the fat of a business that was turning a very tidy profit already. He’s involved in every aspect of my life, and he’s going to leave, and when he does, there will be a hole in my life and heart without him.

My stomach tightens, and I push him away. “Everything’s under control,” I tell him, praying it’s true. “I don’t need anything from you.”

*

Her words hit me like a fist to the gut. “Of course,” I say, and move away from her as if I’ve been burned. I’d thought—well, we seemed to be getting on well enough, and I’d started to think that maybe we could find a way to continue our arrangement—even if I hadn’t worked out the particulars.

I’d even, I’m surprised to realize, begun to think that what we have is more than just the arrangement.

I’m a thousand kinds of fool.

Even as I’m berating myself, things falls into place. Ledger entries I didn’t understand. The little jobs the police did for her. Gods, she’s amazing, this woman of mine—

Only she’s not mine, is she?

It’s like a pain, realizing that.

“I’ll wait until your physician gets here, if that’s all right?” The last bit is almost an afterthought, forced through my teeth, but she nods, so it’s worth it.

A few minutes later, a woman taps on the glass and Hela lets her in. “Eir,” Hela breathes, and the woman—the physician, I realize, when I see her medical bag—nods and steps into the room. Behind her is a man in a fedora pulled low and a long coat. The woman glances at Hela, who motions toward Priya with a flap of her hand. She’s exhausted, and I want to hold her, but I’m afraid to go near her.

Then the physician stumbles, and we can all see the man behind her is holding a gun.

Everything slows, things moving as if through water. I have time to see the individual hairs of the stubble covering his jaw, the way Hela’s eyes widen, then narrow at him, the angry glower Thora shoots at him from across the room.

The physician hits the ground, air escaping her loudly. The man sees Priya, and if there was any doubt he was her husband, it’s shattered by his sudden murderous expression. “Bitch,” he growls.

“I am so tired of that word,” Hela mutters.

Then things seem to speed up, as if time itself is trying to compensate for the momentary slowness. The red haze of the berserker descends over me.

Thora curls herself over the woman’s body, shielding her from her husband. Hela surges forward and aims a kick at the back of his leg. He falls, landing hard on his knees, and I think I hear something crack.

Hela lifts the candleholder, lines it up with his elbow, and I hear the squelch-crunch as it hits. He turns toward her, one meaty fist catching the side of her face so she stumbles back a few steps. I leap forward and drag him away from her. My heart pounds in my ears, and I lift the man with one hand, dangling him in front of me like a broken toy. I growl a curse in the old language that doesn’t translate.

Fear finally replaces the anger in his eyes, and I pull my fist back to slam it into his face. I want him dead, this man who’s hurt my woman.

A shot cracks the silence, and I turn toward the sound. Hela stands there, gun in her hands, a slug embedded in the floor at her feet. “Put him down, Two. We’re all safe. I’m safe.”

I look at her for a long time, the redness receding from the edges of my vision, leaving me tired and a little ashamed. She’d had things under control. I just—couldn’t—seeing her in danger messed with my head.

I put the guy down carefully. He’s unconscious, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle. Hel aims the gun at him until she sees he’s not going to move, and I cross to her side.

“Oh, Hel.” She sags against me for a blissful moment, and I hold her, pressing kisses into her hair. “You can’t do this anymore.” She stiffens against me.

“What did you say?” she asks, and pushes herself away.

“You nearly got killed, Hela.” My voice is ragged with fear and anger and a thousand other things I can’t begin to name.

“I can’t not do this, Tyr.” She sounds exhausted, and also resigned, like she’s been waiting for this for a while. “This is important.” She withdraws, and I feel cold without her pressed against me, though I’d like to believe it’s the slow leaching of the berserker rage.

She drags herself to the doctor, helping her to her feet and propping her up as they cross the room to Priya. Thora motions for me to join her at the door, and I follow, my feet leaden. “I need you to help me get the real police officer. Priya’s husband left him a block away.”

I follow Thora, leaving Hela, and part of myself, behind.

6

He left.

Just like Loki. Once the dust settled, and Priya’s husband was in jail, Priya herself was in the hospital, and Thora and I cleaned up the club—I’d gone home to an empty house. The key was on the table, the only sign he’d ever been there at all.

Two weeks without him, and it has felt like a lifetime.

And Allfather has telephoned to say he’ll be arriving early. Tonight.

My hands shake as I wash the crystal tumblers, but doing something—anything—is better than sitting around and waiting. I don’t know if Two will be with him. I don’t know if I want to see him or not. I’ve caught myself turning to talk to him, to share with him some observation, or ask some advice on some matter with the Folies, only to find myself speared with pain when I realize he’s not there.

Thora takes the glass without a word and dries it, placing it on the shelf when she’s done. She clears her throat, and I wait for her to say something, but she stops herself again. Finally, she starts to talk, softly, as if she’s cushioning me with her voice.

“Hela, you’re not one of them,” she says.

The words hit me like a punch. “What are you talking about?”

Thora takes the glass from my hand and rubs it with the towel. “These women we help—you’re not one of them, and it’s okay. You don’t need to deny yourself your happiness because you think we—they—can’t respect you if you’re happy with a man.”

I shake my head. “That’s not it.”

“It isn’t?” She pins me with her eyes, blue-green like the sea, and I squirm at her sudden focus.

“It’s hypocritical,” I whisper. “I spend all this time telling these women they don’t need a man, that they can have a fulfilling life without one—and then the minute something goes wrong, I want to call him and tell him all about it.”

“Do you expect him to fix it for you?” she asks, and I shake my head. “You just expect him to share the burden. To listen, and understand. And if he has a suggestion that might help, that’s … a bonus.”

I nod, speechless. That’s exactly how it is. It never felt like I was giving him my problems to deal with—just that I had someone to help me manage the weight of it.

“Do you think that makes you weak?”

“I do, actually.” I start sorting silverware, making as much noise as I can, hoping it will dissuade her from talking.

She just waits until I’m finished.

“Hela, I know you’re…different…from the rest of us.” She doesn’t meet my gaze, and I am afraid to breathe, to ask what she means. “You’re different. You haven’t lived what most of us have lived, for one thing. You get us, in a way that not many people do, but you aren’t one of us. And that’s okay.” I don’t know if she means that I’ve never suffered abuse, or if she realizes I’m not human. I hold my breath, just waiting for her to clarify, bracing myself for the questions, the fear, the recriminations.

Instead, she grabs a cloth and starts wiping down the bar. “You’re our leader.” She pauses. “Would you betray any of us for him?”

“He would never ask me to do that.” I answer without thinking, because the idea of it is insane.

Thora nods like I’ve made her point for her, but understanding this is too much—like it’s too big to fit in my head, and she explains it to me patiently. “He would never ask that of you. It’s not a matter of him or us. It’s not a matter of putting him over the club, or over your short-term tenants, because he will never ask you to. What you do is as important to him as it is to you. You can trust him, and we won’t begrudge you that, because we trust you.”

Oh gods, it’s so tempting to believe her.

She puts her hand on my arm. “That’s love, Hela.”

I snort, a cross between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t think I like it.”

“It’s part of being alive. Don’t cut yourself off from it. Even if it’s not with him—let yourself love.”

I close my eyes and try to let everything she’s said settle into me. It’s like putting together a jigsaw puzzle—I need to figure out where these new revelations fit so they can go into place and be part of me.

It can’t be this easy, can it? I can have him, I can have the club—and it’s okay? Just the fact that I want so much for it to be true tells me something. I want him. I like him. I even trust him, as terrifying as that is. I… “Shit. I think I love him.”

Thora rolls her eyes. “Tell me something I didn’t know.” Then she tosses the cloth into the sink and laughs. “Better yet, go tell him.”

Oh gods. I can’t do that. Can I? I bite my lip. “Okay. I can do that. If he shows up with Allfather, I’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t—” The thought of not seeing him hurts, and I look at Thora for inspiration.

“You can get his telephone number from Allfather and call him.”

“Okay.” I say, and my voice is steady even if my knees aren’t.

She puts a glass on the bar in front of me, fills it with a pale green liquid that smells like fire, and jerks at it with her chin. “Bravery.”

“Thanks.” I take the shot, down it, and let it burn its way down my chest and settle into my stomach. “We need to make that the house specialty.”

She laughs. “You sure you don’t need me to stay for the meeting?” Thora twirls the watch around her wrist, and I shake my head at her.

“I’ll telephone if anything happens you need to know about.”

“I’ll be praying it all goes well.”

Then she’s gone, and I straighten my shirt, tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, and make my way to the bar. Allfather is supposed to be here any minute. The Folies is closed for the evening, and the place gleams, even in the dim light.

When I step through the door, however, there’s a single table with two candles burning on it, and a large figure seated at it.

“Two?” The word is barely a breath, but he seems to hear me and rises to stand by his chair. Waiting for me.

I cross the room, but a few feet from him I stop, unable to get closer because I’ll do something insane like throw myself into his arms. He looks unfairly good in a suit.

We stare at each other for a long time, and he finally motions me toward the seat across from him. And it’s too much.

“Why are you here?” I want him to tell me he’s here because he missed me. That he’s here because he loves me. I’m afraid he’s here to tell me he doesn’t, and he’s convinced Allfather not to support our charter.

He rubs the back of his neck with his flesh hand, an uncertain gesture that makes my heart lurch in my chest. “I asked Allfather to be the one to give you the news.”

Oh gods. What news?

It could be anything. We got the charter. We didn’t get it. Two is moving to the North Pole— I have to concentrate on stiffening my knees, because I feel on the verge of collapse.

“The work you do — it’s important. You’re saving these women. And it’s not just from their lives, you’re saving them for their afterlives, too, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“No one else ever considered it. No one tried to do anything for them.” He falls into his chair and braces himself with his elbows on his thighs. “I spoke to my father about it, and he’s going to see what he can do about having these women—those you rescue and those you don’t—given a new status. I pointed out we could make the argument that they are warriors, these women, and maybe we could give them the choice of Valhalla or Helgafjell.”

Holy—. “He can do that?”

Two grins wryly. “If he can’t, he’ll convince the rest of the gods that he can. He’s the Allfather, after all.”

If I didn’t know before that I loved him, I know it now, with him sitting there, a little rumpled in his suit, telling me everything I’ve worked for is worthwhile.

“There’s so much to tell you,” he says. “And I’m trying to do it in the right order. I want to deal with business first, so you know that none of it hinges on our arrangement.”

I flinch. Is that what he wants? To renew our arrangement? How had I never even considered that?

I swallow a lump that rises to my throat.

*

“When we came back from The Great War, we—” I stare down at the top of her head, glad she’s not looking at me. “We didn’t fit anymore.” I close my eyes and try to put words to the feelings. “We came back, and people wanted us to be heroes. They wanted to be proud of us. They didn’t want to hear what it was like. To know that we looked men in the eyes as they died, and that it stays with you after.

“When you join up, there are exercises to make you a team before you see action. That team is your everything while you’re stationed overseas. When you get home…you’re on your own. Surrounded by these people who were living their lives while you were gone, without the before and after like you have.” I don’t know if any of this makes sense to her, and now, having said that much, I don’t know what else to say. “Not that people at home had it easy, but…it was a different kind of hard.”

She nods like she understands, and I can actually believe it, by the look in her eyes.

“So you made your own brotherhood.” There’s so much kindness in her voice it hits me like a punch to the gut. The word yes leaks out of me like air from a Zepellin’s ballon and leaves me just as deflated. “They didn’t care—when I was Tyr the One-Handed. And then Dian and his son, Miach, crafted me the replacement, and they didn’t care about it, either. That was a big deal, because people—don’t always react well.

“Sometimes... Sometimes it’s not like I lost my hand. It’s more like it lost me.” I huff out a breath. “Like I lost myself.” My chest feels tight as I remember how I was. “I spent a lot of time looking for some magical method to get it back. Then I got this…” I lift my metal hand, my throat tightens, and I cough to clear it. “With the way things are in Europe right now, I thought they’d be desperate for people to enlist.” I give her a meaningful look. “There are reasons Odin hasn’t gone back to Valhalla since The Great War, and I think it’s because what’s happening in Europe is going to get worse before it gets better.

“Anyway, I put in my papers, but—well, as my CO said, laws and technology move at different paces.”

“What matters—” mattered, I realize quite suddenly, and the thought is so strange, so abrupt, and so mind-altering that I shove it away into a corner to examine later. “What…matters,” I try again, “Was…the feeling of uselessness. I went back to the Hunt, and I was still Father’s second, but I wasn’t really necessary. Mostly I was just a goon, and I was good at it, but I was used to making decisions by then. Life and death stuff—things that mattered. And I blamed my hand for that. If only I still had my hand, I would still be important.

“And then I came here. And I wasn’t making life and death decisions, at least not that I knew of.” I give her a smile to show her I’m not bitter that she kept her secrets. “But I felt useful. I felt important. Necessary.”

“And then I told you I didn’t need you.” Her voice almost breaks, and I can’t look her in the eye, because yeah, that hurt, and it hurt my pride, and that’s why I left without a word.

But when I got home—Allfather took one look at me and we had a heart to heart.

“I spoke to my father. We’ve agreed to confirm your charter—with a condition. You’ll be Allfather’s support club. And we’ll start a new club, here in Cogham, which will be your support club.”

“I don’t understand,” she says, and there are tears in her eyes. “Isn’t that going to be a conflict?”

I cough. “Well. That’s…sort of the hitch in the whole thing. The Cogham club—I’d be the president. You’d be a support club for Allfather, if and when he needs you, and the local chapter would be your support club, here. We could work mostly autonomously, but there would be a couple places our missions overlap.”

God, this was so much easier when my father and I laid it out. Explaining it to her—it’s harder than I thought. “You’re doing good work, here. And your focus is on the women. I’m guessing you have the resources to set them up somewhere new, with new names, new lives?” She nods, confirming what had only been a guess until now. I hadn’t told Father how much of the information I had was conjecture.

“What The Hunt would like to do is to focus on the men. You can continue to provide support for the women who need it, help identify the ones who need our help. And The Hunt—well, we can carry off the men, make them relocate, instead of the wives.”

“That’s utterly brilliant.”

I grin at her. The admiration in her voice is like a drug, and I feel drunk with it. “The Hunt has chapters throughout the country, so it will be easy enough for us to relocate the men. Easier for them to find jobs, to start new lives wherever they end up than it is for the women. And in the more severe cases, or if they don’t toe the line…well, I have a friend who is looking for eunuchs for his palace in a very small country in the Middle East.” I grin, knowing it’s got too much teeth, and she smiles back.

“That’s devious and I love it.”

I motion toward the chair across from me, the black leather jacket hanging on the back of it. “Your charter is granted. Love and respect, Hela, president of Hel’s Belles.”

She looks with longing at the jacket, and then her gaze swings to me. “There’s something I need to tell you before we agree to all of this. Something that might—change whether or not you want to work with me.”

I tense. I’m not sure I want to hear this. Everything I own is in the truck I bought for the purpose of moving. I figured it would come in handy, and I’ll use my bike for everyday. If she tells me she can’t work with me, if she says she can’t have me in her life— My chest hurts, but I just look at her and wait, afraid to move.

Fear and joy war on her face. “You left,” she whispers. “You became part of every aspect of my life. I never understood how women did that. How they couldn’t hold something back. But you were in my home, in my office—everywhere. And then you left, and there was just a hole where you used to be, and—I didn’t know how to fill it again.” She takes a deep breath. “What I’m saying is that I think I love you, Tyr the Two-Handed, and I couldn’t bear it if you left again.”

The knot in my chest bursts. I’m on my feet and standing in front of her before I realize I’ve moved. I take her in my arms, press a kiss to her lips, and tuck her body into mine.

“I love you, Hela Lokisdottir,” I whisper into her mouth. “I don’t want to leave. I’ve rearranged my whole world because I felt the same hole in my life. And I knew Dian couldn’t build me a replacement this time. The only thing that would fix it is you.” I tip her chin up so she has to look me in the eye. “I promise you, I’m not leaving again.”

She nods and kisses me again, and I lose myself to the feel and the taste of her. After a long time, she pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Let’s go home.”

“Are you sure?” After what she just told me, I thought she’d want me to find my own place. Take it slow. I’d have done it, too. For her.

But she smiles up at me, open and trusting and so beautiful it hurts, and says “Yes. I’m sure. I came up with some new ideas while you were gone.”

I laugh, take her hand in my metal one, and press a kiss to her forehead. “I did too,” I tell her, and she shivers against me. “And some of them even involve a bed.”

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dayna is afraid of big snakes, small rodents, spiders and crawly things of all sizes, and writing her own biography—especially in third person.

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BOOKS BY DAYNA HART

The Hood Series

Lessons Learned — part of the LOVE IS… anthology

The Curtain Torn Series

Go Between

Between Good and Aeval

Coming Soon:

Hood

Hel’s Belles, Book Two

THE VIKING QUEEN’S MEN

Book 1 of The Afótama Legacy

by

Holley Trent

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’d like to make a confession. The Viking Queen’s Men is a story I started long before I had the chops to write it. I’m talking nearly fifteen years ago. The story started as a space opera, changed to an alternate history urban fantasy, and now lives as a paranormal romance.

Though the world-building changed drastically over time, there was always one constant—Tess, the queen of my band of desert-dwelling Vikings. Tess is my most enduring character to date, and she set a benchmark for what all my heroines would become. I’m stoked to have finally unleashed her!

The Afótama Legacy will unfold over five books. Tess, Harvey, and Ollie will be back again in The Chieftain’s Daughter: coming this winter. I hope you’ll sign up for my paranormal romance newsletter so you don’t miss the news of its release!

~Holley

PROLOGUE

The Viking longship rocked perilously on the roiling North Atlantic. Its hastily mended sail, ripped during the last storm, stuttered as the wind pelted the canvas.

The thundering noise had been frightening to Muriel when it’d first started, because surely the stolen, battered ship couldn’t sustain the violent conditions for much longer. The sail would be knocked loose and blown back to Iceland. The wooden vessel would splinter and be dispersed by the currents along with the runaways trying desperately to steer it toward calm waters.

It wouldn’t sink, though. At least not during this trip. The ship had sailed more than a thousand years ago, and most of its passengers lived to see the land they sought. They got their freedom.

The storm and the unforgiving waves it stirred up were all figments of Muriel’s imagination. The ghost whom sat beside the weary queen near the mast, however, was not.

Ótama, daughter of Alfarinn, clasped her many-times great-granddaughter’s hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. “I know you are tired. You have been a good, strong leader for so long. You have earned your rest.”

Muriel let out a shuddering breath. “Too tired. I lost hope of ever finding her. What if she’d died? Where would we be?”

“Let us not dwell on what-ifs. She has been found, and the people will have their queen and conduit, separate from their matriarch. You are not meant to be one in the same.”

Muriel had been bearing the weight of both roles since her mother died, and with her daughter dead as well, she’d held onto to the extra title for far longer than anyone had in the past. She’d been considering resorting to desperate measures. There was someone who could step in. She wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but even a bad queen would be better than no queen at all. Without the queen, they were lost.

“They’re getting restless,” Muriel said with a sigh.

“They have been patient and will continue to be. No one blames you for what happened.”

“It doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“Hindsight will certainly enlighten you.”

“Let’s hope that’s true.” Muriel ran a hand through her uncombed hair and put her back against the mast. The ship rocked like a carnival ride, and Muriel tried to sweep the turmoil from her thoughts. Maybe the weather didn’t matter to the ghosts at the oars—they weren’t really there like Ótama, and were merely echoes of the dead queen’s past—but the weather had become a psychic barometer for Muriel. When she was optimistic, the boat sailed on smooth waters, and the people she governed were calm and happy. When she was stressed, like now, Ótama’s realm became a dark place, and Muriel’s people worried. They didn’t know why they worried, but they did. And when they worried, they sometimes left the fold. That rarely turned out to be a good idea for any of them.

“What advice do the gods have for this transition? I doubt it’ll be a smooth one. She likely won’t remember anything about us. She’ll be skeptical, and rightfully so. She’s going to be asked to take on a massive responsibility in shepherding people she doesn’t even know.”

Muriel had gleefully taken on that responsibility as a younger woman, but things had been different then. She’d had her mother—the matriarch—to counsel her, and her daughter on deck ready to learn. Muriel’s granddaughter would be coming home to find a significant hole in her family tree.

“It’ll be within her rights to refuse.”

Ótama closed her eyes and canted her head as if tuning in to voices in the wind. After a few minutes, during which Muriel stared at the bleak gray horizon, Ótama straightened up. “Their advice is the same guidance they dispensed regarding your daughter forty years ago.”

Muriel rolled her eyes. At nearly seventy, it was a habit she’d yet to break. She remembered that advice all too well, and at times wondered if heeding it was the reason her only daughter was now dead. “To let her find the man worthy of ruling beside her, as he’ll give her the tools she needs to govern our people.”

Ótama nodded.

Muriel’s people—the Afótama, literally “of Ótama”—were a matrilineal community. They hadn’t had a king or chieftain since Alfarinn.

New World, new rules. In all the time since that longship had landed in Vinland, the queens had acted as governors and mediators. They saw to it that their people were provided for, and in the twenty-first century in dusty New Mexico where the thriving, though endogamous, group now lived, that job belonged to Muriel.

She wasn’t just a politician, though. She was their conduit: she had a psychic link to everyone in her charge, and because of her, they were connected to each other. Some more than others. She kept a finger on the pulse of the group, and sought out discord and wanting.

She fixed what was broken, and propped up the psychic web where it sagged so everyone was content.

Of course she was tired. She was like a network server turned on all the time. Naturally, after twenty years of acting as both queen and matriarch, she was burning out. She needed her granddaughter to step in, but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted her back.

Contessa was all Muriel had left of her daughter.

“I will try not to get in the way of the gods’ will being done,” Muriel said.

“And you will be highly favored, as always, child of mine.”

Muriel offered her smile and tried to put her heart into it, but she was just so tired. She was certain it was a weak one. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your calm seas and cloudless sky back.”

Ótama’s stunning grin was wide and genuine. It was no wonder her husband had given up so much to spirit her away from the land where she and those like her were persecuted. “I believe I have grown fond of the rough waves.” She placed a hand atop her swollen belly and rubbed. “It is to the baby’s liking as well.”

“It’s sure a wild ride. No surprise she was born a daredevil.”

“With her father being the warrior he was, there is no surprise at all.”

They touched foreheads once again, Muriel closed her eyes, and pulled out of Ótama’s realm.

The place had been Ótama’s gift from the gods when she’d died at sea during childbirth—a place where her daughters and granddaughters could find her and seek her guidance. She’d be there as long as she had daughters to serve, and that suited her just fine.

Muriel hoped she could be just as good a counselor to her returning granddaughter as Ótama had been for her. Contessa would have the weight of their world on her shoulders.

Gods willing, she’d have a consort strong enough to bear it with her, because she wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

1

Contessa Spry bent to fix the fishnet stockings that had begun sagging at her ankles after six hours of wear. She didn’t know why she bothered with the things at all, really. They didn’t prevent her feet from blistering in her borrowed stilettos, nor did they provide any protection for her legs from the unseasonably cold breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe it was that they provided the illusion of coverage. Men were much more likely to keep their hands off her ass when she wore them, though she still got groped far more often than she liked. She hated being touched.

A vehicle to her left honked, and she rolled her eyes. A bad habit, for sure, but she had worse ones. She hadn’t been brought up to have manners. She’d grown up fighting for security and a sliver of personal space. There’d always been someone in her face. If not her social workers, her foster “parents.” Also, cops, court-appointed lawyers, and judges.

Whatever. None of them got it. She was just another hardheaded bitch with no respect for her elders. Not that they’d ever shown her any respect. She’d never asked to be coddled or spoiled. She’d just wanted enough trust to be left alone when she needed it, because her mind was such a tangled place. She was smart, she’d swear on a stack of Bibles that she was, but no one believed her when tests said it wasn’t ADHD or dyslexia. But she knew better. She thought of too much at once and couldn’t organize it all when people were breathing down her neck. She needed space and quiet to decompress and process it all, but she was never given it, so she ran. A lot. She didn’t even have a hometown because she ran so much.

“Not that kind of girl, buddy,” she mumbled toward the vehicle following her. She gave up on fixing the fishnets and straightened up to tighten the sash on her trench coat.

The car honked again, and she started a brisk pace. Maybe they wouldn’t follow.

“For fuck’s sake, get lost.”

All she wanted after a long night on her feet serving drinks to men who should have been taking their money home to their wives was to soak in her tiny tub and maybe finally get that pile of laundry off her bed. It’d been out of control ever since she’d picked up the second job, and she’d had to pick up the second job because she’d gotten so far behind on her bills after coming off probation.

She felt like she’d been paying off the bail bondsman forever, but really, it’d only been a year. The entire legal system was a ridiculous racket. She’d only been in jail for a couple of days on that bullshit charge, but still, she had to pay, and pay, and pay some more. There were the fees to her probation officer every two weeks. Rent. The monthly payment for the few pieces of furniture she leased. Oh, and somehow, she had to feed herself. A girl couldn’t live on bar pretzels and wasabi peas alone.

She rounded the corner of Bourbon Street in the opposite direction of her apartment and quickened her pace. Stealing a glance behind her, she saw the large, dark SUV creeping slowly toward her.

The only people she knew that drove like that were undercover cops, gangsters, and child abductors. At least it couldn’t be the last thing because, while she may have looked really fucking great for twenty-eight, her hips and sway should have made her adult status very clear to anyone with functioning eyeballs.

Could have been a cop, though, trying to get her to solicit him so she’d get locked up yet again for some minor crime she hadn’t actually intended on following through on.

“Nope. Nopity-nope,” she sang to herself, and turned right again. If they wanted to follow her in circles until she could sneak away—so be it. She had all night, and the only things holding her back would be her barking dogs. She’d abandon the shoes if she had to, though her coworker undoubtedly wanted them back.

The SUV honked yet again, and she shook her head. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want,” she shouted without turning.

“Tess, please stop.”

That voice.

She knew it…or had known it once.

She turned, because it couldn’t be him. After the way they’d parted company the last time, she didn’t think she’d ever see or hear from him again.

And she would have deserved it.

Sure enough, Harvey Smith leaned out of the back right window, and grinned at her in that knowing way he always did. Of course he would. He knew way too much about her, or had up until a couple of years ago. She hadn’t changed any of her old tricks since then, though. Maybe she never would.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” He gestured for her to approach him, but Tess couldn’t move. She was frozen in place in her painful shoes and ill-fitting fishnets.

He couldn’t have possibly changed that much between twenty-eight and thirty, so maybe she’d had her head too far up her ass to notice. They’d known each other for too long and had come up through the Texas foster care system together. She’d known him as a scrawny little boy, and later knew him as a tall, capable adult, and all the stages in between. But, she’d never really paid any attention to the fact that he’d become a man.

And holy fuck, he was a man, and of the rare please bend me over and fuck me without saying hello sort. There was something about that captivating green gaze that took her breath away and scrambled her already scattered thoughts. His dark blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar. That was all she could see, but if she had to guess, she’d say he was wearing immaculately pressed pants and shoes that weren’t scuffed.

Unlike Tess, he’d always had ambitions beyond juvenile hustles and short-term gigs. He’d even gone and gotten himself a damned good education. Brown University. He’d claimed he only picked it because it was by the sea, but Tess knew better. She knew what kind of school it was, even if she didn’t let on that she did.

She couldn’t get jealous about such a thing, and knew she wouldn’t thrive there even if she could get in. She’d never been cut out for structure. Or maybe structure wasn’t cut out for her.

“Doll, come here.” He waved her over, and her cheeks burned at hearing that old nickname reprised.

He’d always called her “doll” when they were kids because he’d always thought she’d look like a china doll with her pale skin and huge halo of curly hair. She figured one day she’d cut it, but it had become a bit of a security blanket during her adult years. It was familiar and predictable and probably the healthiest relationship she’d ever have.

She approached the curb, eying the big beast of a vehicle warily. The dark tinted windows gave her pause, but perhaps it was a hired car. Or maybe Harvey was doing far better for himself than she’d initially thought.

He opened the door. “Don’t be shy. You look like you could use a lift, so get in. I was just headed to the airport. Come on and chat with me. Let’s catch up.”

“Airport? Leaving already?” She climbed up into the vehicle and brushed past Harvey’s long legs.

He closed the door, and as she sat, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and prickled.

She turned and sighted the redheaded woman sitting at attention in one of the third row bucket seats. She wore her hair shaved up on one side, and a colorful, intricate tattoo licked up her neck from her exposed collarbones. Her tank top’s collar dipped low enough that Tess could see a boat’s square sail jutting up from a mast drawn between her breasts. The tat must have been massive if there was a ship to go along with that striped sail. It probably wrapped around her torso, and the work must have hurt like a bitch.

Tess must have been staring too long at the woman’s chest, because she cleared her throat. Tess looked up to see the woman raise her chin in what seemed to be a begrudging acknowledgement.

“Um. Hello.”

The redhead fixed her gaze pointedly on the window to her left.

“All right, then.”

Harvey draped his arm over her shoulders as she turned to face front. Had anyone else touched her, she might have shrunk away. Anxiety would have had her clinging to the door handle, but Harvey had always been like a buoy for her. Not only that, but her buffer from the world.

She took his free hand and squeezed it. “Who are your friends?” she whispered, eying the men in the front seats. Like the woman, the driver had a shock of bright red hair. He wore mirrored Aviator glasses and an open smile. He caught her stare in the rearview mirror and waved. “I’m Joe.”

She let go of Harvey’s hand and gave Joe a small wave in return. “I’m Tess.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Tess looked to Harvey for an answer, but his expression gave nothing away. His fingers danced along her left cheek as he twined them in her loose hair.

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his caress and accepted his tacit offer of comfort. It had always been that way between them. It’d start with twirling of her hair or a massage of her palm. He always knew exactly what she needed based on her response, whether it’d be a chaste night spent inside his arms, or just holding hands for a few minutes.

But now his touch was different. Although it still conveyed a promise of comfort, it also stirred up an unfamiliar longing. Her breath left her body in a long exhale as he skimmed down her neck and fingered the collar of her coat. His fingers seemed to ask, “What’s in here?” and she had one mind to show him.

Her nipples jutted painfully against her bra’s lace, and a heavy warmth spread down her core and settled in low. She shifted uncomfortably, silently cursing her fishnets’ torturous chafing of her engorged clit. She’d picked a hell of a day to not wear panties.

“You all right?” his quiet voice should have conveyed concern, but the press of his right hand on her thigh suggested he knew what was wrong with Tess and that he liked being the cause of it.

She dragged her tongue across dry lips and swallowed. “Feeling a bit…claustrophobic.” She looked toward the front seat again, and this time caught the man riding shotgun looking back. One of his dark eyebrows inched up to the bottom of his knit skullcap, and his full lips pulled up ever so slightly at the corners. Whether he was suppressing a smile or a grimace, she couldn’t tell. There was no privacy barrier, no wall between them. He could see where Harvey’s hands were and guess from her hot cheeks how she felt about them.

Given how she was dressed, they probably thought she was a prostitute.

“God.” She squirmed out from Harvey’s touch and moved as close to her door as she could.

The man raised his sunglasses onto the top of his head and studied her without a greeting.

And, as awkward as his unceasing assessment was, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. He was familiar, somehow. He stuck out in her brain. His face was like a sticky note she’d put on her calendar to remind her to do some thing, but she couldn’t remember what the thing was or why it was important because her note had been too vague. Those silver-blue eyes had seen her before, though she couldn’t speculate on when and where. She’d gotten around a lot since aging out of foster care.

“Nan was right. She’s totally offline,” the man said. He turned around in his seat and pulled the seatbelt across his body.

“Once it gets out that she’s back, all sorts of characters are going to crawl out of the woodwork trying to edge in,” Joe said. He moved the SUV into traffic.

Tess wrapped her fingers around the door handle and gave it a pull before realizing the lock was engaged. She reached for the lock, but Harvey wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back to him. “It’s all right.”

“I’m not taking your word for it.” She reached for the lock with her other hand, and Harvey grabbed that one, too.

“Have I ever hurt you?” He held her wrists together in front of her belly in one sure hand. “Eyes up here, Tess.”

She let her gaze track slowly from his large hand, to the muscular thighs his slacks hinted at, up his trim waist, past his loosened necktie, beyond the succulent lips pressed into a tight line, to his pale, narrowed eyes.

“You like making me wait, don’t you?” he asked.

Somehow, she didn’t think the question had to do with her circuitous route to eye contact, so she shook her head.

“Have I ever let you get hurt?” Gone was the familiar, teasing tone she’d known from childhood. In its place was a quiet confidence. No, dominance. He expected capitulation, and he earned it time and time again. He didn’t make demands before he’d proven he was worthy of trust. He ran his business that way and was a rich man because of his vision. It made sense he’d be the same way in his personal life. But, why hadn’t she seen that before?

Maybe she hadn’t been looking…or maybe, just maybe, he’d been hiding it.

“Answer me,” he said. Her gaze fell to his lips, and he gently nudged her chin up to put her stare back where it should be.

“No.”

“No, what?”

She swallowed again, her will weakening every second she had to stare into those hypnotizing eyes. “No, you’ve never let me get hurt.” Simple truth. He’d always stuck his neck out for her, even when she didn’t deserve it.

“That’s right. I need you to remember that, okay? And I need you to stay in this truck and come with us.”

“It’s just a ride to the airport.”

He gave his head a slow shake.

Joe had picked up enough speed now that even if she could get the door open, the chances of her rolling safely to the ground were nil. There was also the minor issue of getting run over by the vehicles behind them. She’d end up in the hospital with no insurance. She didn’t need more bills.

“If not the airport, then where?”

“We’re going to the airport. I haven’t lied to you.”

She flexed her bound wrists, clenched her hands into fists, and meditated on the sharp feel of her nails against her palms. That helped her concentrate and break things down into sensible nuggets. She’d never been the kind of girl who was good at jumping to conclusions. Her brain was bogged down by too much murk for her ideas to get off the ground, but one took flight.

“You’re flying me somewhere?” She whipped her head toward the men in the front seat. “Are they bail bondsmen or Marshalls or something?” She yanked her wrists, but Harvey wouldn’t let go. Oh, God. She may have had some outstanding charges in other states she didn’t know about. Hell, the probability was actually pretty good. She’d always done what she could to get by, and worried about the legalities later.

“Tess, look at me,” Harvey said.

She didn’t take the bait this time. She couldn’t get her hands free, but she still had her feet. She leaned back as far as she could and lifted her right foot, planning to smash his shin, but the sharp prick at the left side of her neck stopped her in her tracks. A burn seared her muscles, then spread up her neck and down her chest.

Her lips went numb, tongue heavy.

She turned her head in time to see the woman behind her draw back an empty syringe.

“What the fuck did you just do?”

The redhead capped the needle and dropped the spent syringe into a plastic bag without answering. She looked out the window once more.

Eyelids drooping and muddled mind fogging even more, Tess turned back to Harvey. “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You said…”

He caught her as the earth beneath her opened up and swirled, and held her head on his lap. He smoothed her hair back from her cheek and stroked her jaw. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was outvoted. I said we should go slow, but they didn’t think you’d agree to come.”

“Who didn’t? What’s happening?” She tried to lift her head so she could nuzzle her cheek against his hand, but gave up when the oddness of the action struck her. She shouldn’t be cuddling with someone who’d just facilitated her abduction.

“You’re finally going home, Tess.”

“I don’t have a home.” She could hardly keep her eyes open.

He chuckled. “I always thought you were the queen of every-damn-thing, but now I know for certain that it’s true.”

“What the blazing hell are you talking about?”

He stroked her face some more, softly and lovingly, and she practically purred under his touch. So very odd. “You’re descended from royalty, Tess. Chieftains and queens. You’ve got the most revered of the Norsemen in your blood.”

“I don’t know about revered,” Joe said. “That may be too kind a word given the circumstances.”

There must have been some good shit in that syringe, because she was having a hard time comprehending simple English.

“Norse-who?” she muttered.

“Vikings, Tess. The real deal. We’ve been here longer than anyone else can prove. We’d like to keep it that way, because there’s a reason our ancestors left Denmark and then Iceland. We’re not like normal people.”

One of the men up front chuckled at that, and her head had gone so echoey she couldn’t even tell from which side. Probably Joe, though. Not that stoic motherfucker in the beanie hat. Who the fuck wore beanies in September?

“Wha…” Her tongue had gone so sluggish she could hardly push back spit to swallow. “Whas tha mean?”

“You’ll learn soon enough, doll. Trust me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Never again.”

“You keep saying that,” she said. Vaguely, she registered that she should try a bit harder to get away.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything, except black out.

2

Damn, she must have been tired. Tess was always exhausted after leaving work, but she always remembered getting herself home. What had happened at the bar? She must have gotten in the middle of another one of those brawls and gotten concussed. She could throw a hell of a right hook, thanks to that mixed-martial-arts-fighting asshole she’d dated whom wouldn’t go away, but like him, she’d probably been hit in the head one time too many.

She stretched her arms high over her head and moaned indulgently, savoring the plush feel of the soft leather beneath her.

Just a few more minutes, and then she’d get up and…

She opened her eyes. She didn’t have a leather sofa, and the last place she’d been wasn’t work, but inside an SUV hurtling toward the airport.

Her vision focused on wood paneling on a curved wall containing a small oval window. The cloudy view out that small piece of Plexiglas told her that while she was still in a vehicle of sorts, she was no longer on the ground.

“Oh shit.” She gripped the armrests of her luxe seat and faced right. Across the aisle, Harvey sat watching her. His lips were pressed into a tight line and jaw clenched.

He was aggrieved? Well, she was the one who’d been stabbed in the neck with a hypodermic needle and brought onto an airplane against her will. Apparently thugs with private planes didn’t have to go through security.

She filed that bit of information away for later.

She pushed the release on her seatbelt buckle and stood just slightly—enough to turn and confirm her suspicion that the plane was a small one. She’d only been on a plane once in her life: when the state of Florida had sent her ass back to Texas that first time, and it’d been nothing like this. Folks on that flight sat six per row, not two.

That plane hadn’t had luxurious carpeting and polished wood walls. It hadn’t had large-screen video monitors. She could just barely see a sectional sofa on the other side of the cabin door.

“I’d hoped you sleep until we got there,” Harvey said, drawing her attention back to the front.

He rested his hand over the indiscreet bulge in his pants.

What the hell had he been watching on that big screen? She reached across the aisle to grab the cord of his headphones out of the socket, but her falling shirt strap gave her pause.

She nudged it back up, but not before Harvey hissed.

Oh.

“Your neckline’s been drooping for two hours,” he said when she fixed a warning glare on him. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Such a gentleman. So, I’ve been more or less hanging out all that time. That’s what you’re saying?” She looked down at her nearly exposed breast, covered now by a thin triangle of lace that left very little to the imagination.

His leg bobbed.

“You didn’t have to look,” she said. She made no effort to fix the strap—not yet. When she was standing up and gravity did its job, she had no problems with the shirt’s hang. So, the way she saw the situation was that this was his problem, not hers. She didn’t ask to be put on that plane.

“Hard not to,” he said. “I figured you’d be more comfortable with the coat off. I didn’t think you’d be wearing rags beneath it.”

“Name-brand rags. Well, go ahead and have your eyeful.” She nudged the fabric aside so her breast was in full view.

It was a brazen, teasing thing to do, and totally out of character, but she wasn’t in the mood to be cautious and careful. She was in the mood to be provocative. Maybe she’d get some answers that way. Being nice sure as shit hadn’t worked.

He kept his stare on the ceiling. “You really don’t want to do this. Don’t make this harder for me.”

“Harder for you?” She put her back against the window and pulled her right knee up onto the seat. “Why, my dear man, I do apologize for inconveniencing you by walking past your vehicle and begging you to carry me away. My, how thoughtless of me, not considering the distress my company would cause you.”

He sighed. “It’s for your own good.” He brought his gaze down and turned to her, but kept his eyes focused above her neck.

Well, she’d see how long that lasted.

She moved across the aisle and planted one hand on each of his armrests. Insinuating her knees between his spread legs, she leaned in slowly and gave him a view she knew he wouldn’t resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed with his labored swallow and his gaze flitted downward.

She heard his sharp exhale as she skimmed her lips along his jaw and stopped just short of his earlobe.

“That wild streak of yours is going to get you into trouble,” he said.

“Much worse than I’m already in?” She flicked her tongue at the fleshy drape of his ear and pulled it into the clamp of her teeth before he could react.

She released it on a gasp when his strong fingers dug into the meat of her ass, startling her upright.

And then she was on her knees with his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down.

“Much more,” he whispered. He raked his fingers through the back of her hair and pushed her down even more. “I thought I warned you well enough back in the SUV. Maybe I was too subtle.”

Her nose was so close to his crotch that she saw his cock’s twitch.

“This is me being nice, Tess,” he said, still whispering. He loosened his grip on her hair, and rubbed her scalp with tender strokes. “This is because we have history and you deserve some kindness.”

“This? What is the this you’re referring to?” She pressed her cheek against his thigh and closed her eyes. She breathed him in, and moaned wantonly. He was so warm and earthy. All male and uniquely Harvey. She skimmed up his thighs, pausing when her fingertips skimmed his cock, and he grabbed her hair again, adjusting her head so her face angled toward his.

As his thumbs grazed her jawline, she whimpered, and struggled to focus on him. She’d gone lightheaded, and didn’t think it was from the plane’s air pressure or the drug working its way out of her system.

“I wanted to give you a choice, Tess. If it were up to me, you’d be mine, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Yours?” she rasped, curling her fingers into the bunched fabric at his crotch. “What are you talking about?” She fingered his fly, and he nudged her hand away.

He dragged the back of his hand down her cheek and settled his palm at her shoulder. “They’ll explain everything when we land.”

Annoyance filled in the spaces in her brain where lust had been, and the fog slowly cleared. What the fuck was going on with her? With them? She’d been out of sorts ever since she’d woken up. Had to be the drugs.

Drugs were bad. She’d never so much as walk through a cloud of secondhand weed smoke again if they were going to fuck her up like this.

She grabbed his shaft and squeezed hard, twisting for added agony.

He clutched at her wrist.

“Explain it to me now,” she said through clenched teeth. “No more bullshit.”

A bell-like ping sounded over the intercom, and a modulated, calming female voice announced, “Folks, we’re approaching the landing strip and will be setting down in just a couple of minutes. Weather’s great and we’re looking at smooth landing conditions, but just in case, take a seat and buckle up for me.”

The ping sounded again, and the intercom turned off.

Harvey’s breathing became ragged as Tess squeezed harder. “Unhand me,” he said.

“Or else what? You’ll spank me?”

She didn’t care about the footsteps coming closer to the front cabin or the fact the plane was dropping in altitude in what seemed like a precipitous rate.

“Y’all abducted me, remember?” She wedged her outer hand in and grabbed his balls before he could stop her. “I was on my way home, minding my own business. I didn’t ask for this. Tell me now what’s going on here, or so help me God—”

The harpy with the tranqs leaned over Harvey’s seat back and cast Tess a withering look. “Nan’s not gonna be too happy if the first time she sees you is with you being hauled out of here unconscious over one of these guys’ shoulders, so I suggest you take your seat.”

“Lady, I couldn’t give a shit about your nan.”

“Oh, but you will, and if you’re lucky, she won’t psychically bulldoze you so you spend the next two weeks trying to recall whether you’re a person or a persimmon.”

“Have you been self-dosing with much better drugs than what you gave me?”

Harvey groaned. “Please, Tess. We’ll be on the ground in a couple of minutes. Everything will be clear before breakfast.”

There was a familiar earnestness in his voice Tess had known from long ago, and only because of that, she let go of him.

He didn’t wait for her to stand. He picked her up, turned her, gave her a hard swat on the rear that made her yip. Then he nudged her across the aisle.

He pushed her into her chair and fastened the buckle. Her ass smarted and face burned, but through her embarrassment, there was an odd sense of relief. She didn’t know relief of what, though.

He bent down to her level to whisper, “I know my place. Never doubt that. I’ll always defer to you because of your status, but let’s be clear on one thing.”

“Take your seat, Harvey,” the redheaded harpy barked.

Harvey ignored her. He kept his gaze locked on Tess’s and whispered, “The next time you grab my dick, you’d better be prepared for it, because I consider that an invitation. Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’re inviting.”

Oh, she had a good idea.

Her pussy throbbed and nipples tightened at his frank words, and she wanted very much to see her straight-laced friend dominating her in the way she needed.

She was tired of being the one in control all the time.

He fixed her shirt over her shoulder and straightened her neckline. “I suppose we’ll have to get you something more comfortable to wear when we land.”

She nodded, and he retreated to his seat.

He fastened his belt and the harpy behind him sank into her seat as well.

“We’re wired to like it rough, but the next time you want to instigate a bit of PDA,” she said, “don’t do it in front of your family. I’ll never be able to scrub my brain clean of it.”

Tess waited for Harvey to acknowledge the woman, but he just raised an eyebrow at Tess, waiting.

“What?”

“Your family, Tess.” He crooked his thumb to the folks seated behind them. “Not mine.”

This time when Tess’s cheeks burned hot, she pressed her forehead to the window and closed her eyes.

What the fuck?

3

Tess followed Harvey down the narrow staircase and into the cool night air.

Stars spangled a blue-black sky and the only sounds Tess could discern were ticking from the plane’s engines as they cooled and the thuds of their feet against the ground as they filed onto the tarmac.

She didn’t know what she expected to be waiting for her on the ground given the inauspicious start to the trip, but it wouldn’t have been a small, platinum-haired woman wearing a holey black D.A.R.E. shirt. Especially not one escorted by what seemed to be a living, breathing G.I. Joe doll—complete with camo gear and a big fucking gun. Tess was pretty sure that semi-automatic rifle wasn’t a toy.

“What in the hell…” she muttered and scanned the open desert behind them, then the tiny airport’s roof. No one else was around. “I’m pretty sure this is the way the Tantric Assassin graphic novel started. I’m going to be really freaked if a sniper’s bullet takes someone out. I wouldn’t mind inheriting a superpower or two, though.”

“You might get lucky with that last thing,” Harvey whispered as they came to a stop with the group.

“Really funny.”

The silver-haired woman twined her fingers in front of her belly and raised her chin to the new arrivals.

Harvey lowered his head briefly.

“How was the flight?” she asked airily. She rocked back on the heels of her—Air Jordans?—and kept her steely gaze locked on Harvey.

“Uneventful.”

The redheaded harpy cleared her throat.

“More or less,” he amended.

“Good.” She turned to the man in the beanie hat, and seemed to study him silently for a long while. Too long.

They were practically frozen with only their eyelids moving as they blinked and their chests rising and falling from breaths.

“What are they doing?” Tess whispered to Harvey.

“Talking.”

“Should I make myself a tinfoil hat and join the conversation?”

“You’re welcome to try, but I should warn you that tinfoil went out of fashion fifty years ago.”

“Ha ha. If you can hear them, what are they talking about?”

“You,” the harpy said in a tart tone that set Tess’s teeth to grinding.

Tess balled her hands at her fists and turned on her. “Look, you cantankerous harridan—”

“Whoa!” the older man edged between them with his hands up. He looked more amused than angry, and Tess filed that reaction away for later along with that info about private planes and security. “Okay, we started off on the wrong foot, but you two are going to have to learn to get along and fast.”

Harpy rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my job, Pop.”

“I don’t doubt you will, but I’d like you to do it with as little antagonism as possible, do you understand me?”

Harpy sighed. “Pop…”

“Nadia, I asked if you understood me.”

“Perfectly.”

How perfect could her concession be if it was given through clenched teeth?

Joe turned to the woman in the raggedy T-shirt. “May I?”

Tess couldn’t tell if he had disrupted the “conversation” between beanie cap guy and D.A.R.E. shirt lady, but the woman nodded and made a be-my-guest gesture.

“Thank you, Mom.”

Tess made lines in the little family tree in her head. Nadia was Joe’s daughter. Joe was the older woman’s son. Three generations. So, apparently, Tess’s abduction was a family affair.

Joe took Tess’s hands in his.

Her natural instinct usually would have been to pull away—to shake off his uninvited touch—but he felt familiar to her. Him holding her hands didn’t stir feelings of discomfort, but instead an odd sort of connectivity, and she tightened her own grip around him. Safe, he made her feel safe.

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened as his smile broadened. Maybe it was that smile that was familiar. The way the muscles on the left side of his mouth dominated it, the way the cheekbones beneath his red beard hollowed as he grinned.

It was familiar because it was her grin when she was nervous or shy.

She dropped his hands as if they were hot potatoes. What the hell was going on? This had to be some trick—an elaborate set-up. She tried to take a step back, but Harvey’s solid form was in the way.

“No one’s going to deceive you Tess,” he whispered as if he’d been reading her mind. “I meant what I said on the plane. This is your family.”

“You look so much like your mother,” Joe said. “I could hardly believe it when I saw you.”

The turmoil in her gut surged up her chest. She put her hand against her pounding heart and closed her eyes. Cutting off that sense always made thinking easier. “Listen. You all have to excuse me for being skeptical, but for all I know, this is some well-rehearsed ruse. To what end?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, and I really don’t know why Harvey’s tangled up in it. We weren’t on great terms the last time we saw each other.”

“Tess, you can trust me. You know that,” Harvey said.

Sighing, she opened her eyes. “Put yourself in my shoes.”

“I was in your shoes earlier this year.”

Joe pressed his hands to Tess’s shoulders and turned her to him. “You were both born here in New Mexico. It took us this long to find you and bring you home. Harvey remembered a little about us. We hoped you would, too. Things would be easier if you did.”

Harvey’s expression had gone solemn. “Tess was younger, so she probably has limited memories. I was four. I don’t remember anything from when I was two.”

Convenient story. Of course she wouldn’t remember anything from toddlerhood. “Pretty sure I read this in that graphic novel, too. Found orphans are kind of a trope. Let’s see if I can guess what’ll happen next.” She tapped her index finger to her chin. “Oh, I know! You’ll drop some bombshells about my parentage, tell me a lot of sad things, and I’ll break down only to rise like a phoenix from my own metaphorical ashes. That sound about right?”

Joe cringed and turned to his mother. “Mom, I don’t know how to do this.”

“I’ve been ruminating over this for more than twenty years, Joey,” she said. “Even being who I am and with all the power at my disposal, I don’t have all the words for this.”

Tess waved at them. “Hi. Let’s start with the basics. Who are you? And what’s this power you speak of?” She made air quotes when saying “power.” After all, wasn’t New Mexico where all the kooks and conspiracy theorists lived?

Joe gave her shoulder a squeeze. She looked at him, and he tried to wear a smile for her. He was so nice. She hated herself for firing off all those bullets of sarcasm, but that had always been her protective mechanism. When she was so confused at what was happening around her, she could take people off guard with a little attitude, even when it wasn’t appropriate.

Maybe if she tried just a little harder to understand. No, to trust. Harvey had always looked out for her, and that would never change. The least she could do was not assume the worst.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared at Joe. She tried to see a lie in his expression, but she didn’t see any guile there. Just…pain?

That look took the wind out of her sails. She’d always been the kind of person who absorbed other peoples’ sadness as if it were her own, and that was yet another reason she valued her solitude.

Fuck.

“Your mother was the epitome of a brat,” he said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “From the day she was born, she gave me hell. She never stopped giving me hell, and she always smiled while she did it.”

His mother stepped forward and put a hand to Tess’s cheek. Before Tess could pull back, a stream of images she couldn’t turn off bombarded her brain. A redheaded woman and her dark-haired husband. One son, then two, and then a daughter, finally—one with dark hair like her father’s. Everyone held her. Her brothers. Her Uncle Joe. Her grandparents. Her father, and especially her mother. She’d fall asleep holding her as if she knew that putting her down meant losing her.

But, she had lost Tess. Then she died.

The images stopped and Tess opened her eyes to the group. “That wasn’t me. I don’t know what that was, but that wasn’t me,” she said softly and shook her head. A burn inched up her chest and her throat constricted around grief she shouldn’t have felt—not for a woman she’d been told abandoned her.

“It was you,” the older woman said. “You really don’t doubt that.”

Harvey pulled her in close and pressed her face against her chest. Rubbing her back, he whispered, “It’s okay to feel something. People expect you to.”

Another large hand added to the rub of her back. “I miss her terribly,” Joe said. “She was smart and funny and wise. She had a huge heart and an unquenchable enthusiasm about life, and she loved you so much. She would never have given you up, Contessa. None of us would have. You were stolen. You and others.”

“I… Wait.” Tess squeezed her eyes shut. Too many people. Too many words in too many voices. Too many thoughts and emotions, all at once, ping-ponging inside of her skull and refusing to settle down. So loud, so much discordance. She could take a punch like a champ, but this…

Tess didn’t have to wipe the tears away because Harvey’s shirt took them all. Solid as he was, though, his chest couldn’t muffle the sound of her wailing sob.

Harvey’s arms tightened around her, and he planted his lips against her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to seem more intense now that you’re here. You might feel like it’s going to break you, but it won’t. I promise.”

“This stinking runway isn’t the place to eulogize my daughter,” the older woman said. “Not even April would have found humor in this.”

All the connections settled into Tess in pieces.

April had been her mother. Joe was her uncle. The shrewish redhead, Nadia, her cousin. The woman in the D.A.R.E. shirt with the odd psychic gift was Tess’s grandmother. Sniffling, she pulled away from Harvey’s chest.

The older woman put a hand on either side of Tess’s face, but this time she didn’t pour thoughts or pictures into her. She just looked at her. She looked so tired—like she’d been awake for far too long and had seen too much. It wasn’t just the dark circles under her eyes, but every movement. Her posture was straight and elegant, but her hands had a slight shake, and her gait was stiff as if she feared her legs would fall out beneath her.

“You’re my grandmother,” Tess said. It sounded more like a question than a statement of fact, but Tess knew.

“Our queen and matriarch,” Harvey whispered.

Her grandmother closed her eyes and sighed. “Not for much longer now that she’s here,” she said. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you home, Contessa.”

Uncle. Cousin. Grandmother.

Tess cut her gaze to the man in the beanie hat and knew who he was without asking.

That sideways look he cast at her was all Tess. She’d seen it in enough of her own pictures to recognize it.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Everyone calls me Jody.” He rolled his eyes. So fucking familiar. “I’m named Joseph after Uncle Joe. Our last name is Dahl. Joe D. Jody.”

Squinting at him, she let his words replay through her mind. Sometimes, she felt like people were speaking in algebra with background music provided by the band Spinal Tap turned up to eleven. A plus B is equal to B times C when A is equal to drum solo.

Jody. Named after Uncle Joe. Got that.

“Dahl?” she queried.

He nodded. “I don’t know what you go by now, but your surname is supposed to be Dahl.”

Contessa Dahl. Doll. What an odd coincidence. “Which brother are you? First or second?” She raked a hand through her hair and massaged a throbbing spot in the middle of her head. There was such a thing as too many surprises, and she was nearing that point.

“Second. Our brother is missing, though not for the same reasons you were. Now that you’re here, we hope you can help us find him.”

“Me?”

Fuck, half the time she was lost herself, so how was she going to find anyone?

He nodded solemnly. “That’s your job. Or will be when you’re able to do it.”

“Do you mean I can toss thoughts around like you?” she asked her grandmother.

“That’s yet to be determined. Let’s pile into the truck and go home. I’m sure we could all use a strong nightcap before bed, and I’m happy to pour them.”

She let go of Tess’s hands and waved Nadia up.

“For reasons I’ll explain in great detail later on, you’ll always need an escort. Nadia will act as that in the interim, as well as your lady-in-waiting of sorts. It’s traditional.”

“A what?”

“A lady-in-waiting, my dear, for lack of a better term. She won’t help you dress or sit with you for tea every afternoon, but she’ll help navigate our world until you get linked in.”

Before Tess could even ask the question about what being “linked in” was, her grandmother shook her head. “I’ll explain that later, too. Let’s go. I don’t like being in the open like this. My old paranoid tendencies have come roaring back now that you’ve put the thought of a sniper in my head.”

They moved en masse toward the truck—everyone except Tess, that is. Her brain might have been working, but it had apparently short-circuited everything else.

Harvey backtracked and grabbed her hand. “Come on, princess. I don’t want to manhandle you, but you seem to enjoy it.”

She wrenched her hand free of his and gasped. “Don’t tell me we’re related, too.”

If death by mortification were possible, Tess wanted to pitch in and get a head start on digging her grave before she collapsed.

She’d had her fucking face in his crotch less than an hour ago.

“Don’t worry, princess.” He gave her ass a solicitous squeeze that made her face burn hot, and bent down to whisper, “We’re not. No connections for at least the last few hundred years. I asked and your nan looked it up. The matriarch keeps our genealogies.”

“Oh God. What on earth is a matriarch? I think you’re all just making up shit now to confuse me.”

He didn’t answer. He tugged her to her second SUV of the night. She boarded immediately following Nadia. A driver dressed in all black and wearing mirrored shades, in spite of the late hour, sat at the wheel. Tess’s uncle rode shotgun. Jody, their grandmother, and the guy with the gun took the narrow third row, and Tess climbed up into the second row sandwiched between Nadia and Harvey.

“Where are we going?” Tess asked. “Can you at least answer that?”

Harvey squeezed her knee and looked out the window. The SUV had started moving, and as far as she could tell, there was nothing in front of them except desert. “It’s not far. Just a few miles from here. To outsiders, it looks like an out-of-the way subdivision.”

“But what is it really?”

“Home of the Afótama,” her grandmother said.

Tess turned as much as she could beneath the constraints of the seatbelt to see her.

“We’ve been in the area for about three hundred years. Long before the English settled out here, but we’ve been discreet. It’s not ideal. We’re ocean-faring people. It’s in our blood to be near the sand and surf, but we had to move west for own safety.”

“You mean like the Mormons?”

Her grandmother raised a silver eyebrow. “Not quite, but an interesting comparison all the same. Like them, we were running from trouble, or at least trying to prevent it from catching up to us. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, and the English colonists were afraid of us when we finally did meet.”

“Why?”

“Because we see too much. Know too much. It’s why we left the old world in the first place. They wanted us dead.”

“I hate to sound like a broken record, but why?”

“You’ll understand soon. I promise. But I’ll tell you this. Some types of deviance are more forgivable than others. People judge harshly because they can’t empathize with situations outside of their norm. We Afótama, well, we’re outside the norm.”

“In what way?”

“In the same way witches and fairies are. The gods have favored us with certain gifts to ensure our survival.”

Tess ground the heels of her palms against her eyes and sighed. Didn’t see this in that graphic novel. “Those things don’t exist.”

Her grandmother didn’t respond to that, except to ask, “Is that your natural hair color? That black?”

“Yes, why?”

“Sometimes the color changes at childhood. Nadia’s was dark at birth and turned red later. Recessive genes rule the roost around here. Has to do with the way we’re wired. You saw your mother and know now you resemble your mother a great deal. Her hair was as red as your uncle’s and mine before it turned gray.”

“Sorry to break the streak.” Tess faced front. “This is just like everything else in my life. I’m already disappointing people, and this time for something completely beyond my control.”

“Quit it. It’s not just you,” Jody said. “My hair is brown.”

“It’s auburn,” Nadia said. “Nice try, though.” She grinned for the first time since Tess had been in her acquaintance, and Tess couldn’t be certain, but it looked genuine. Nadia was amused by Jody, and probably felt real affection for him. Maybe she’d been like the sister he’d never had.

Well, good for them.

Tess crossed her arms and slumped lower. “Am I aberrant in any other ways?”

“That’s yet to be seen,” Nadia said.

“Stop it,” Joe said. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

“I haven’t forgotten who she is. You tell me she’s the next queen, fine. I’ll serve her since that’s what the line of lineage dictates, but I’m not going to hold my tongue and pretend she’s suitable for the job. She can’t hear a damned thing we’re saying telepathically, and that doesn’t bother you?”

“Wait—can we rewind here?” Tess asked. “I think I’m holding up admirably given the circumstances, but there’s only so much disbelief I can suspend all at once. Just today, I’ve been reunited with family I didn’t know I had, told that I have some tenuous association to Vikings—did I hear that correctly, Harvey? I was doped up at the moment.”

He grunted. “That was correct.”

“Okay. I’ve also been informed I may have some undefined power, and now you’re bandying around the word queen as if it were just a nickname. As much as I like the idea of being something greater than a cocktail waitress, I’m not sure if I’m qualified to be anyone’s ruler.”

“No, Nadia, it doesn’t bother me,” her grandmother said, ignoring Tess’s distress. There was an edge to her voice that warned Tess that whatever the Afótama queen was supposed to be, the current one took no shit. In fact, everyone in the vehicle except Joe shrank a bit in their seats.

If only Tess could command that sort of respect. No one took her seriously.

Her grandmother said nothing more until they’d approached the gate of a sprawling subdivision bearing a sign that read Norseton. The driver waved at the gate attendant who peered into the truck, gave his regards to the queen, and lifted the barrier.

“Just because you’ve always been in my company doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about what being queen means.” Her voice was quiet, but tone pointed. “There are things none of you are meant to know and that I have not seen fit to share with you. Keep that in mind the next time you want to question my action or inaction regarding certain matters.”

“Yes, Nan,” Nadia said.

Had she been Tess, those two words would have come out sounding tart. Nadia could concede without abasing herself, but maybe she’d had more practice at compliance. When she backed down, she knew how to back down completely, whether she liked it or not.

Would Tess have to learn to do the same? If so, she might as well pack it up now.

The driver steered the SUV into the four-stall garage of a large modern style home. Mansion, even. Compared to the smaller abodes in the vicinity, it stood out like a capital building. Made of adobe and massive panels of glass, it seemed almost museum-like in its three-story grandeur.

Her grandmother must have guessed the reason for her confusion, because she leaned forward and squeezed Tess’s shoulder. “Living quarters take up a small portion of the building. The rest is for Afótama business. For instance, the Thing meets here on occasion.”

“Thing? That’s entirely unspecific.”

She laughed and shifted to the right side of the seat toward the door as the vehicle cleared out. “That’s what it’s called. A Thing. It’s what we call our assembly. It’s a very old form of governing. I’ll explain everything in due time. It’s not my intention to be coy. There’s just too much to explain all at once.”

Harvey helped Tess down and slung his arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the garage and up into a dimly lit hallway after the others.

Her grandmother said, “I live here, and so will you. Nadia moved in last week to prepare for your arrival. Everyone else has their own residence here in the community.”

Tess looked up at Harvey. “Even you?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m only here about half the time, though. I spend the rest of my time in hotel rooms. I’m away on business a lot.”

“A-afo—”

“Afótama?”

“Yes. Afótama business?”

“No, not Afótama business. Like, business-business. With the consulting firm.”

They climbed up a narrow stairwell that must have been deep inside the building because there were no windows to be found.

“I keep offering him a job, but he won’t take it,” her grandmother said. “I guess he doesn’t want to feel like he’s on the dole, but he should know by now I’d make him earn every penny.”

They came up into a massive office tastefully decorated in tan and dark blue. Again, there were no windows, though the framed art, showing vignettes of outdoor scenes, and the large monitor streaming in security image from around the building minimized the closed-in feel.

Tess looked around and realized somewhere they’d lost the driver and the guy with the gun.

“Do you need me for anything else tonight, Mom?” her uncle asked.

“No, Joey. Go on home. Tell Marnie not to rush over in the morning. I know she’s excited, but I imagine Contessa will sleep in.”

As if she could sleep.

“Then I’ll say goodnight, too.” Jody stood in front of her and gave her gentle chuck on the chin. Then, he stood there, considering her for a moment.

It drove Tess to distraction the way his pale eyes assessed her face and his lips twitched at the corners.

“What?” she asked.

He laughed. “We’re huggers. Do you mind?”

“Oh.” Her mouth formed the word yes, because she did mind. But, he’d asked. And he seemed to need it. He’d known her, remembered her for all those years. Of course he’d want to touch her. She waved him over, and he wrapped her in a tight bear hug that picked her up a foot off the ground. He rocked her to and fro a few beats. “Hi, sister.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“See you tomorrow. I apologize in advance for everything that’ll happen.”

“Want to fill me in? I wish someone would.”

“Not gonna be me. Sorry.” He rocked her some more.

She would have kicked him in the shin for that, but the hug wasn’t so awful that she wanted to be put down just yet. She’d never been welcomed anywhere before.

Their grandmother grunted, and Jody put Tess down.

“Not gonna blow smoke up her ass, Nan. Sorry.” He made his leave, waving at her.

She waved back.

Tess expected Harvey to follow right after him, but he kept his place at her side, and put his hand on her waist. She was glad he was there, because whether this woman was her grandmother or not, Tess wasn’t ready to be left in a room alone with her.

She didn’t know what these people wanted from her. For all she knew, she could have been slated to be their next ritual sacrifice. Unbalanced people killed the people they supposedly loved all the damn time. She saw it in the Daily Mail.

Her grandmother’s gaze locked on the hand at Tess’s waist. “Well, well. Are you stating your intentions regarding my granddaughter, Mr. Lang?”

Lang, not Smith.

“I swear I hadn’t planned it, but I couldn’t not touch her. After I did…”

Her grandmother put up her hands. “I know. Can’t really shut it down now.”

Tess raised a hand as if to summon the teacher. “Excuse me. I don’t know. Anything at all. Care to fill me in?

They both ignored her.

“Do you know what that means?” her grandmother asked him. She leaned her bottom against her desk’s edge and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m prepared for any challenges, but I read the history. I don’t expect there’ll be any, but if there are, I’ll fight.”

“Wait.” Tess squirmed out from his grip and put herself between him and the queen. “I feel like there’s a lot going on here that directly affects me, and yet I have no say in it.”

“I promised I’d explain things before bed,” her grandmother said, “and I keep my promises.”

Tess turned to her, and her grandmother pushed away from the desk.

She walked until she was within arm’s reach of Tess, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get your crash course tonight. No one will make you stay here if you don’t wish to. You can opt to leave, though I will do everything in my power to make you want to stay. My heart is broken, Contessa, when my grandchildren are scattered. When you’re not where you’re born to be, which is amongst your kin. Afótama don’t do lonely. We don’t isolate ourselves. Our compulsion is to draw together. I think you’ll start to feel that if you give things some time to click.”

Tess shook her head. “Hold on, now. I do lonely just fine, so maybe you have the wrong girl after all. And what is it that you’re wanting me to do?”

“You’ll know what to do, child. It’s intuitive for the queen. You’ll understand when it’s your turn.”

“That’s a total non-answer.”

Her grandmother turned her hands over, palms up, and shrugged.

“Okay, if you don’t want to answer that, how about this one. Why is this so pressing? Why now?”

What she wanted to ask was Why’d you leave me out there for so long? but changed mid-stream. She’d already lost it once in front of a group of strangers. She wasn’t going to break down again tonight if she could help it.

“Simple. We didn’t know where you were until very recently. You were lost to us, just like Mr. Lang. My turn should have been up years ago. With your mother gone, there was no one to step in except Nadia, but she would be like an oval peg stuffed into a round hole. There’d be gaps.”

Tess felt her brow furrow at the metaphor. She understood the imagery, but not the context.

Her grandmother sighed and put her forehead against Tess’s and closed her eyes. “Listen, child. I’m tired. I’m not as efficient as I used to be. We need a clean conduit.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t understand you. I always have problems understanding.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s the way you’re wired. The fog will lift soon enough. I can explain until I’m blue in the face, but this is something you’ll understand as the pieces come together. In the meantime, I’ll tell you what you need to know about this place. Mr. Lang, could you excuse us, please? Some of this isn’t meant for you to hear.”

“Of course.” He bowed, and cast a look at Tess that could have incinerated her panties.

What the hell was that?

He looked at her like she already belonged to him—like in ten minutes he’d staked a claim.

And for some reason, she couldn’t muster up any indignation about it.

4

Harvey clasped his hand over his yawn, barely managing to keep his eyelids up as he reclined on Tess’s would-be bed. He didn’t know for certain that she’d welcome his intrusion into what would undoubtedly become her inner sanctum, but he was betting she’d want to see a familiar face.

His integration into the Afótama community had been an easy one because he’d always had an understanding that there was something different about him. He reckoned that most people couldn’t hear each other’s thoughts as clear as being spoken aloud. He’d thought he was insane as a child, and told no one about his odd proclivity, especially since he couldn’t hear everyone.

It was hit or miss with regular folks. Some he could hear, and the thoughts of others were blessedly shut off to him.

It was hard enough coming up through foster care and grasping at stability, so he kept his mouth shut, lest he get shipped off to the next place.

When it was his turn to be found—when Muriel sent Joe and Jody out to find “the stolen”—he’d cried with relief. He could hear them in his head as they’d approached him at a coffee shop near where he worked in downtown Charlotte. Not only could he hear them, but they could also hear each other. They talked back and forth, and they noticed that he noticed.

Although far from normal, his life made so much more sense now than it had before they made that coffee shop introduction.

He wasn’t a freak, though he was still an orphan.

Like Tess, his parents were dead.

Tess. His Tess, the queen of them all. He could hardly believe it, and with Tess being Tess, knew she wasn’t going to easily adjust. Muriel had said that Afótama didn’t like being solitary, but Tess always had been.

He worried she’d run from them.

From him.

One side of the double-doors swung open, and Tess stepped into the nearly dark room, sighing. She closed the door and put her forehead against it.

He knew he should leave her to her thoughts so she could process it all, but he couldn’t. He’d meant what he said to Muriel about his intentions. If Tess would have him, he’d be her consort. Her lover, eventually.

He’d also meant it when he said he hadn’t planned on claiming her. There were plenty of men who’d been born into this world who could guide her so much better than he could, for they already knew the strictures and politics. He’d be the blind leading the blind, and thus was willing to get out of the way for someone more deserving.

But then he saw her.

After all those years, he still wanted her, and it wasn’t because she would be queen. He couldn’t give a shit about the power, and if she were anything like Muriel, she’d be fearsome when she came into it. He didn’t care about status and the wealth she’d inherit.

All he cared about was Tess, and the thought of seeing her hand in some other man’s and her affection belonging to someone else made him want to bellow and rage. She wouldn’t be allowed to remain unattached for long. As future queen, and a woman of a certain age, she was vulnerable while unmated. At least, that’s what everyone said. Afótama paired off while young, because having a mate bond made their mental shields stronger. It sounded like fairy tale shit, but it was really just a matter of hormones.

“Fuck,” Tess whispered against the door, and she banged her forehead against it a few times.

“Tess, I’m here,” he said softly so as not to scare her. “On the bed.”

She ran to him, tears streaming down her face, and he welcomed her into his arms.

Her heaving sobs against his chest broke his heart, and he didn’t even know what was wrong. Seeing her—a woman who as a matter of course never cried—weep and moan rocked him to his very core. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

Hurt whomever had wronged her.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did someone offend you? Nadia maybe?”

It was probable. Nadia didn’t hash her words. She was a damned good friend to have, but she wasn’t a patient woman when it came to duty. She knew hers, and assumed that everyone else should know theirs and be competent in doing them.

She was unmated for a reason.

“No, I haven’t seen Nadia since we got here,” she said between sniffles. “My grandmother—she…”

“What?”

“She told me what I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do, and I told her I’d try.”

“That’s wonderful news, so what’s bothering you?”

“I was fine until I realized that everything I do from here on out will be in front of an audience. People are waiting for me to fail, and I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve got a new name and family all of a sudden, and all these people want to hug me, and I…” Her voice careened to an incomprehensible pitch.

Shit.

He couldn’t even lie and tell her that it wouldn’t be that bad because he didn’t know. It was true that from here on out, she’d be carefully watched. She’d be living life under a microscope and having every decision she made questioned and intensely scrutinized. She was expected to be one part monarch, one part politician, and one part Mother Theresa. She would fail on occasion. Everyone failed. But, like Muriel, she’d have to be able to assure them all that in spite of the missteps, everything would be okay.

Muriel was so maternal and had such a big heart that she kept their grumbling to a minimum. They could all feel her warmth and strength, though on some days, they also felt the frayed edges. She was trying too hard to hold it together, but it wasn’t supposed to be her job anymore. It was a job meant for twenty years at the most, and she’d been doing two jobs in that period.

“I’ll help you all I can, Tess.” He lifted the bottom of her shirt and pressed his palm to the small of her back. That bit of warmth from skin to skin contact calmed him the way it did for all their people, but he couldn’t say if did the same for Tess.

She wasn’t online. He didn’t know when she’d be online, if ever. Maybe it was something that would happen automatically when she took over her grandmother’s role.

“It means a lot,” she said, still sniffling. “Did you know about the ball, the big party?”

“Yeah, the people expect you to have a coming out since you’ve been missing for so long. They want a chance to meet you. Touch you.”

The touch was important. They’d all want a chance to make that small connection, because once you touched one of Ótama’s people, you became a part of their mind-to-mind network. They’d always be able to reach out to you. It was like programming numbers one by one into a cell phone. At first, Tess would ride on her grandmother’s network, but it wouldn’t be as strong as if it were her own.

“It’s all set to go forward pending the results of a DNA test. She said the people insisted on the test, and that if she could get away with it, she’d forego it. She seems to be very confident of what the results will be.”

“And don’t you? I think you already know how they’ll turn out.”

“There’s wishful thinking, and then there’s optimism. I think I fall into the first category.”

“Which part are you wishing for?”

“The family part. Can you believe it? Brothers and an uncle and a grandmother? That’s a huge family in my book.”

“It is. I’m on my own.”

She pulled away from him and dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “No.”

Typical Tess, forgetting to feel sorry for herself because she thought someone else needed the pity more. He nodded. “Just me. That’s why I was so easy to abduct. I was living with an elderly great aunt, and I got stolen when she took me to get a check-up. The nurse took me out to weigh me, is what she thought, and then I didn’t get taken back to her.”

“Unbelievable.” She sniffled. “My grandmother says finding out why we were taken and who took us will be one of my jobs. There’s a long list of kids who are still missing, and people still call her for updates. Even the ones who don’t live here.”

He nodded. “It’s a big job, but it’s just one of many. Very little is simple about what she does.”

“And yet I’m supposed to do this? Me?” She laughed, and it was half crazed, half amused. “I can hardly manage to pay rent on time.”

“You’re born to do it, sweetheart. And you’ll never have to worry about rent again.”

He laid a kiss on her forehead that was meant to be chaste. Comforting. But then she looked up at him, and there was so much trust in her eyes that it nearly undid him. Trust was a gift to a man like him. He knew how hard it was to give, and would do his best not to abuse it.

Holding her chin up, he kissed her again on the forehead. Then her cheek. Finally, her lips. It was a slight touch, really, because it wasn’t his intention to take advantage—to overwhelm her.

He could do that easy, as that was his proclivity. He could have her dazed and panting beneath her, unsure of whether she was coming or going, but enjoying the ride all the same.

He could have her on her knees, begging for him, abased for him, and he’d know the thrill of mastering her.

But Tess would be queen. He couldn’t tell the queen to kneel down for him, no matter how submissive she was.

No matter how much she needed it.

It was her who leaned in and increased the press of their lips.

He was fine with letting her take the lead on this because she was so confused at everything that was happening and was likely looking for comfort wherever she could find it.

He was fine with being her comfort for the moment. Right now, he couldn’t push her. She could take what she needed from him, and he wouldn’t be aggressive by giving her more than she wanted.

Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened for her, letting her in to explore his mouth.

When he didn’t respond beyond that, she grabbed his hair and pulled. “Kiss me back!”

“Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.”

“Maybe I want that.”

“I don’t want maybe. I want a clear yes.”

“You want me to beg?”

“I want you to ask for it and know why you’re asking for it.”

She let out a little breath, and her forehead furrowed. “I thought you wanted me. You told my grandmother—”

He pushed two fingers into her mouth and stilled her tongue. “Shhh.”

Stunned, she blinked at him.

“Are you going to hush?”

She gave her head a small shake.

He pulled his fingers almost all the way out and slid them back in before she could clamp her lips shut.

One day soon, it’d be his cock stealing her words, and not just his fingers. Right on cue, his dick twitched. Gods, how hot would she be on her knees wearing nothing but that skimpy bra and staring up at him with those big hazel eyes?

“Are you going to hush?” he repeated.

She nodded, and he slipped his fingers out, only to press one against her lips. “We’re dancing around all sorts of rules and traditions, some of which you know and I don’t, and then vice versa. If we have sex, Tess, no matter what we tell ourselves, it won’t be casual. We don’t know the consequences of it, and how it’ll change our relationship. So, I’m not going to have sex with you just because you’re scared.”

He dropped his hand so she could speak.

“I understand that,” she said.

“Whatever happens, we can’t undo it.”

“I may not have gone to college like you, but I can understand simple statements just fine.”

Given that tone of voice, he was pretty sure he’d squashed any chance he’d had to make love to her, anyway.

He ground the heels of his palms against his closed eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve gotten used to doubly verifying things since rejoining the group. Miscommunications can get you in a lot of trouble.”

“I forgive you, and I did not misunderstand you.”

“Yeah?” He worked his shirt’s top button free, followed by the next one, all the while keeping his eyes on her. He kept unfastening, and he was nearly at his waist by the time she looked down. He yanked the tails free and pushed the shirt down his arms. Normally, he would have hung it up to save himself—or his dry cleaner—from having to work so hard to iron it, but who cared? Wrinkles were the least of his concerns, given the mascara and eye shadow streaks across the front. The woman wore way too much fucking makeup to work. It made her look far older than she actually was.

Maybe that was intentional, though. Dirty old pervs tended to like their pieces of ass on the young side.

He dropped the shirt on the floor and worked his undershirt free of his pants next.

“You need to take off your clothes, Tess, unless you’d like to call Nadia in and have her start her official duties by undressing you.”

With her gaze still pinned to him—now at his hands as he loosened his belt buckle—her fingers fumbled at her shirt hem.

He didn’t slow for her. He stood, nudged off his shoes, and pushed his slacks down.

Tess stopped fumbling, and now just stared open-mouthed.

He didn’t bother suppressing his grin. She’d asked for it, so she was going to get it.

He stepped out of his pants and folded them over the nearby chair back. He sat in that chair to roll off his socks, and then sat, forearms to thighs and fingers tented, staring at her.

She moved quickly now, pulling her inadequate shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor. Standing, she reached under her skirt and pulled at her fishnets.

They made her legs look damned sexy, and had he had time to play, he would have had her keep them on. A little rip at the seat, and he’d have all the access he’d need to fuck or just tease.

He didn’t wait for her to drop her skirt, though he could hear the fabric rustling as he walked away from the bed. She should be nearly naked by the time he returned, and if not, he’d see to it himself.

He locked both doors—one lock at the top, and the other at the knob—and pulled the knobs to make sure they were secure. He wouldn’t have anyone walking in on them, because if this were going to be anything like he’d heard, they wouldn’t want to be interrupted. They didn’t need some staff member walking in on them and imprinting to memory the sight of his naked ass while he thrust into Tess. Word traveled way too fucking fast amongst psychics, and though it would be difficult, he was intent on keeping private things private.

He turned to find her sitting on the edge of bed, slumping a bit. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she held her arms over her chest, hiding from him.

Shaking his head, he clucked his tongue. “Really, Tess? You’ve never been shy.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re still wearing your underwear.”

“Simple to rectify.” He stepped out of his boxer briefs and stopped just in front of her, not touching her, but forcing her to look at him—see him.

Her hungry gaze raked down his chest to his aching cock, where it lingered.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart, if all you wanted was dick, you could have had it years ago.”

“No. That would have been weird.” She reached out and felt him, gently as if he’d break. Her fingertips were so soft, so light, he hardly felt her inquisitive touch.

Generally, he would have preferred she ask him for permission, which he would have happily given, but he would have to learn to concede on some things. A dominant consort and a submissive queen. The power exchange would be interesting, indeed.

It’d be different if he were king, but the Afótama didn’t have kings. They hadn’t in at least a thousand years. Yet another reason their Viking peers had ostracized them. Afótama let woman rule them, and their fellow Northmen believed that made them weak.

Not so. The Afótama knew their strength was with their mothers: the queen and the matriarch. The queen bound them together, and the matriarch soothed their hurts.

Instead of cleaving from their mothers, they’d held tight, and their culture remained intact even after centuries of hardship. There may not have been many of them, but at least they hadn’t been relegated to the subject of some scholar’s incomplete history.

“Lie back,” he said. He hoped it’d sound like a request to her, but it came out sounding more like a command. She did it anyway, but slung her arms over her breasts again when they shifted to the sides.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. “Stop hiding from me.”

She had beautiful breasts—full and heavy, tipped in dusty pink nipples that begged sucking. If she were concerned about a little sag while horizontal, she must not have known what she looked like.

Or maybe she did and had been conditioned not to like it.

Either way needed correction.

“I’d be more comfortable if we turned off the light.”

“I want to see you.”

“I-I don’t. Want you to, I mean.”

He let his lips close on the retort he had ready and waiting because her voice had gone thick again, and not in a good way. Lust would have made her bolder, more aggressive, even if she were shy. His Tess had never been shy. Something was in the way of the lust, and though he didn’t know what it was, he knew he hadn’t caused it.

He couldn’t hear her thoughts, and fuck he wished he could, but he knew her tentativeness was something for him to troubleshoot.

Just not now.

Normally, he would have kept the light on and made her learn to like it, but being a businessman had taught him all about compromising. He switched off the lamp.

He could barely see her, but heard her relieved sigh.

She turned on the bed to lie in the correct direction, and reached for him. “I’m on the pill,” she said softly.

She’d best not tell her grandmother that. Muriel would be nervously anticipating an heir.

An heir!

Fuck. Was he ready for that? Kids? That part of the equation hadn’t even entered his thoughts when he’d stated his intentions to Muriel. He’d just been thinking about him and Tess. Given their childhoods, they were probably both a bit too fucked up to want kids in the very near future. They’d be too tentative.

Scared.

“Harvey…” Tess whispered, and her hands found his ass. She gave him an unequivocal little pull.

She wanted him, and she could have him.

“What do you have against foreplay, princess?”

“Don’t want it. Touch me.”

She wriggled beneath him, and he reached one hand down and pressed a finger into her slit.

She was dripping wet, and she clenched around him, tight and eager.

“Hmm.” He slipped his finger into his mouth, tasting her, and considering the possibilities. If she got wet like that just from a kiss, they could fuck anywhere.

Gods, the thought of the bending the queen over the hood of his truck and giving her a good, hard fuck in the great outdoors made even more blood drain south to his cock. If he’d had the foresight, he would have rubbed one out before she came to her suite, but unfortunately, he wasn’t that kind of psychic.

If his hunch was correct, though, she was going to come long before he did. That made both of them pretty pathetic. Nothing practice couldn’t cure, though.

“Please.” She wriggled again, and this time raised her hips up to meet him.

He pressed her hips flat with his own and whispered against her ear, “Patience. You need to learn it.”

“What job did my grandmother offer you? Chief torturer?”

He snorted and couldn’t help it. “I’ll torture you, all right.” He yanked her legs up to his shoulders and pushed into her in one unstopping thrust that had her moaning.

He lay there on top of her for a moment, chuckling while her cunt adjusted to his size. “Regret not being patient now?”

“Fuck me.”

That cheekiness earned her a strike he planned to follow through on later, queen or not. “I’ll fuck you all right.” He swiveled his hips, and stirred his cock in her, making more room for the workout she was about to get. Her pussy was going to be sore for days. “When I’m done fucking you, I want you to think about who’s in charge here. You hear me?”

He wrapped some of her gorgeous hair around his fist and tugged it enough to make her open her eyes.

“Do you hear me, princess?”

“Yes. Now will you fuck me, please?”

5

Tess trusted Harvey implicitly. Always had. Even as a child, she’d known he was the one person she could trust—even more than her social workers. He always had her best interests at heart in his boyish way, and as a grown man, that didn’t seem to have changed.

Even with his bossy, authoritative lovemaking, she could perceive nothing beyond pleasure because it felt so good to give up control to someone who she trusted—someone who had her back.

She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep stoking her and whispering little commands to her. She liked doing as he asked, being where he wanted her, but she wasn’t going to last. The barrage of sensations overwhelmed her. His big cock stretching her, his teeth on her jaw and pulling at her bottom lip. The infrequent tugs to her hair that made her pay attention.

She went boneless beneath him, hardly able to distinguish her body from the air, and unable to see anything but static.

Harvey put his hands on her cheeks and nudged her so her face was forward. “Fuck, she’s out of it.” The words seemed to float in her head instead of in the air.

“Tess?” Now his voice came sure and strong. “Look at me, princess, or I’ll stop.”

“Mm-hmm.” She clamped down on him hard, and doing so sent an electric surge up her spine and down her legs. Her toes curled and a giggle escaped her throat.

“Overstimulated.” Again, the words seemed to be between here and there. Not aloud, but not imagined, either.

His thrusts stopped, and now Tess did open her eyes and frowned at him. “Torture.”

“Just making sure you’re still there. If I wanted to fuck by myself, I could do that back at my place.”

“I thought you wanted me to behave.” She rolled her hips up and took him in to the hilt, biting her lip at the pleasure.

“Behaving and being present aren’t the same thing. Don’t float away on me. For all I know, you’re thinking about some other man while I’m fucking you.”

“Would that make you angry?”

Grunting, he pulled out of her and flipped her over as if she weighed nothing. He hauled her up onto her hands and knees and pressed her shoulders down to the bed. “What do you think, princess?” He thrust into her in one long stroke and then out again before she could get the gasp out.

Oh, he could hurt her at that angle if he tried.

“If you don’t want me, turn me out of your bed now.” He squeezed her hips and brought her ass back to him instead of the other way around to better control his penetration.

“I want you.” Understatement. This side of him she’d never known was sexy as hell, and she wanted to know how deep that dominant streak went. He wouldn’t hurt her—that much she knew—but he didn’t know she knew that.

“You want only me? From here on out?”

“Yes. Only you.”

She knew who was getting the better end of the deal in the relationship, and it wasn’t him. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and she knew if she weren’t set up to be some kind of royalty, he probably wouldn’t want to be bothered anymore. He’d moved on years ago, and likely wouldn’t have come back otherwise.

She’d take what she could get.

“I’ll stay out of your way, Tess, when it matters.” He resumed his strokes in and out of her, and on an out, pressed a finger into her ass.

She cried out at the foreign sensation, but he kept her from pulling up with the hand on her left shoulder.

“Just relax,” he said. “Sometimes I like to play.”

Well, she didn’t know if she liked it. Her eyes were opened wide now, and she fixed her gaze on the curtained window. Through a slit in the heavy drapes, she could see the moon shining bright and a couple of stars.

There’d rarely been any stars to see in New Orleans because of the light pollution. Sometimes she’d wondered if that blank sky was a harbinger of the end of the world.

He pressed his finger in farther and swirled his hips, stirring his cock in her. The fullness wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, the pressure was kind of nice. It had her curling her toes and gripping the sheets when he resumed his rhythmic strokes.

“You’re so tight.”

“A-are you complaining?” She reached for the mattress edge and grabbed it hard as the first pre-orgasmic waves began rippling through her body. Should she tell him? Ask for permission?

Fuck that.

She bit her lip and concentrated on not bearing down on him and rushing him along. His pleasure was important, too. Or maybe even more than her own. She wanted him fulfilled and happy—wanted to see him smile when they fell into a hot, sweaty heap. She wanted him to wish they could do it all over again.

“I’m not complaining, princess. You feel like a dream.”

“Worth the wait?”

“Mmm.”

He slipped another finger into her ass, and she was through. The orgasm hit her hard and fast, and suddenly she could see nothing.

Feel nothing.

She shuddered in the cold darkness and vigorously chafed her arms to make heat.

But, she wasn’t naked after all. She wore a cloak made of animal skin and sat with her back to a ship’s mast. Not just any ship, but a long, narrow Viking ship, bobbing the ocean’s waves. Its red and white sail had an exact match in Nadia’s tattoo.

“Wow.”

She turned her gaze down to the dark-haired woman beside her, who grinned broadly and grabbed Tess’s hands.

Tess didn’t pull away from the stranger because, like everyone else she’d embraced on this night, she seemed familiar. Her surroundings, however, certainly weren’t.

“Finally, here you are,” the stranger said. Her words weren’t English, but Tess understood them anyway. Perhaps that was part of her magic?

“Who are you?” Tess asked, and realized she hadn’t moved her lips. Neither had the woman, for that matter. Come to think of it, she could have sworn she’d heard Harvey saying things when they were in bed although his lips hadn’t moved. Maybe this was the same.

“Is it not obvious?”

“I’m not sure I can trust myself,” Tess admitted.

The woman nodded. She moved her hands from Tess’s and pressed them over her swollen belly. “Sometimes, the queen is her own best counsel. Trust your instincts. You know me. In fact, you bear my name, in part. Contessa Tamara. History will tell you that I did not survive this trip. We missed our mark. Ran out of supplies long before touching land.”

“But the baby lived?”

She nodded. “My daughter thrived, but I knew she would. She was born lucky, and on Odin’s Day.”

Right. Odin’s Day. Tess nodded, and committed herself to buying a notebook or something to write this shit down. Her memory wasn’t going to hold it all.

“And you died the next day, I’m guessing.”

Ótama nodded. “We were aiming for Greenland, and missed it by a long way. I wasn’t buried at sea. They could not bear it, I suppose. They buried me on land when they finally found some. Canada.”

“I bet you’d like to get back to the sea.” Tess didn’t know where that thought came from, but hadn’t her grandmother said as much? That being so far inland seemed wrong?

Ótama waved a dismissive hand. “It is sweet of you to suggest it, but it is far too late for that. I am but dust. You, though, are flesh and bone. Hearty and hale and with your mother’s courage. You will serve them well.”

“Are you so sure about that? I don’t know these—your—people. What if they don’t respect me? With my past being what it is…”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the ocean and the bleak, landless horizon in the distance.

Ótama must have been terrified when they’d set out. Had she even known she was with child when she’d left her home? She might not have made the trip, but how different would things have been if she hadn’t? Would they still be there?

Ótama inclined her head toward the men at the oars. They carried on as if Tess wasn’t there. Fuck, she wasn’t. This was just a dream.

Ótama laughed, a deep, full-body laugh that had her grabbing beneath her belly. “Do not try to make sense of the ways of ghosts, child.”

“You can hear what’s in my head?”

“Yes. I will always hear you when you are in this place as this is my playground. I’m gone, but my spirit remains here. It was a favor of the gods that I begged for before I passed.”

Tess scoffed. The gods? She’d had problems getting even one god to give a damn about her up until now, and she didn’t anticipate that changing.

Ótama laughed again and moved her hand from her belly to Tess’s knee. “I can hear every thought of yours. You are going to have to work harder to tie those down.”

“You make it sound like that’s some simple thing. I don’t know how I’m doing this or how to stop doing it.”

“You will know, in time. It will come just like all the other gifts. In the meantime, try to keep your thoughts benign.”

“While I’m at it, I’ll have myself reborn as Sofía Vergara.”

Ótama’s forehead furrowed and lips pursed.

Tess waved a hand, dismissing the reference. “Don’t worry about it. Modern stuff. What are these other gifts you referenced?”

“They vary with each queen depending on the needs of the group, but one thing is always the same. All queens are conduits.”

“My grandmother told me that, but I don’t understand what it means. She couldn’t explain it.”

“It is a difficult concept to master because the very nature of it is fluid. That said, each of our people is connected through the queen. You will be like a psychic transformer, to use one of your modern technologies as a reference. A passive sort of switchboard.”

Tess’s shoulders fell. “That sounds exhausting. No wonder my grandmother looks so unrested. ”

Ótama nodded. “It can be exhausting, but your grandmother has been doing her role and that of her daughter. She should have stepped down a decade ago, but there was no one groomed to step in. Being conduit becomes a built-in part of you that you will learn to ignore unless there is true stress somewhere in the web. It will be like…” She canted her head to the side and tapped her chin with her index finger. “Have you had a cold that kept you from breathing through your nose?”

“Too many times.” It was a hazard of her lifestyle. She hung out with gross people.

“At first, breathing through your mouth is onerous, but you get used to it after a day. You adapt.”

“I think I get it.”

“Of course you do.” Ótama pointed to her forehead. “You have my brains. Therefore, on some days, you will feel like you have none at all.”

Tess couldn’t help but to laugh, because she knew that feeling all too well. “And I’m supposed to help them? When there’s stress in the, was it web, you said?”

Ótama nodded. “Web. That is what your grandmother calls it. I think it is a suitable description. Yes, your job is to see to their needs. You are the executive. People will do as you command, so use your power wisely. Your grandmother, as matriarch, is the legislator. She’s the keeper of rules and records, like every good mother.”

“Ohhh-kay, so that’s two of the three branches of government covered. You’re missing one.”

Ótama closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am sure you meant that in jest, but there is a person in that justice role, or will be. Your consort. Our males like that job.” She looked off wistfully. “Your grandfather has been dead for ten years, so your uncle and brother have stepped in in a pinch.”

Consort. Is that what she was dragging Harvey into? Did he know it? Want it? She was going to make damned sure she asked. She didn’t know a single man who would want to be tied down that way and to have so many added responsibilities.

“Can you tell me anything about my kidnapping? And all the others? Who took us and why?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Ótama straightened her spine and looked over the shipside for a moment, saying nothing. Tess didn’t think she was going to answer at all, but then she said, “Cannot. I would if I could, even if I thought you needed to learn the lesson on your own. What I see of your world now is through a very narrow lens. I suppose the gods believe I would meddle, and they would be right.” She laughed. “I had a reputation for being meddlesome when I was alive. What mother is not?”

That, Tess couldn’t answer. She certainly didn’t have any hands-on experience with parenting, and she had no independent memory of having parents herself.

“I do not know what challenges you’ll encounter in the coming days, but you have already mastered your first one. That is why we are speaking now.”

“What was the first challenge?”

“Trusting your intuition. First with your family, and then with your mate. The queen’s mind is quiet until she takes her mate.”

“Harvey? Or anyone I trusted? Because that seems kind of bogus to me. He could turn around and betray me tomorrow.”

Ótama turned her hands over. “But he will not. He will be disinclined to do so because his wellbeing is now wrapped up in yours.”

“Because I’m going to be the conduit.”

“Yes.”

“Does he know that?”

“About the link? Yes, that is common knowledge. About your mind opening after consorting with him? No. That is knowledge only for the queen, but you may share it with him now. He deserves your trust.”

So that’s what Tess’s grandmother had meant when she told Nadia there were things she didn’t know about being queen.

“Will you check in on me?” Tess asked. She grabbed the woman’s hand and held it tight. She was a specter, but to Tess, she was just as real as flesh and bone. Not just a branch on her family tree, but the thick root that dug the deepest. It seemed very important that she be there and that Tess could count her amongst her supporters.

When Ótama’s shoulders drooped, so did Tess’s heart.

“It is not an easy thing,” she said.

“I…I guess I understand.”

“You do not. I would call to you all the time if I could. Now it is up to you to come to me.”

“If I can figure out how.”

Ótama pressed a hand to either side of Tess’s face and put their foreheads together. She sighed, and let the little bit of knowledge she could pass on—their history up until Ótama—convey in a gentle psychic relay.

Tess saw Ótama’s struggles with the Vikings in Iceland. The fighting. The devastation and theft of her land. Tess learned of Ótama’s wishes for her daughter Sævör—that she’d thrive though her mother had starved.

That there’d be peace for her. That her gifts would be celebrated, and not looked upon with skepticism and malice.

Things any mother would want for her child.

“I’ll try,” was all Tess could say.

She was wholly unqualified for the job. She had the pedigree, but not the composure. But, because she was Ótama’s, she’d try. It was the queen’s duty to try.

“Do not be afraid to lean on those you trust and give trials to those you are uncertain of,” Ótama said, and she began fading around the edges.

Tess reached for her, wanting to hold on tight as if that’d keep her close, but she couldn’t.

“All is well, child. Never forget my love for you. Always act from love.” She was but a voice now, and all Tess could see was gray. “Love will make you wise.” The ship was gone. The horizon vanished. Tess was left naked, again, shivering.

“Tess?” came a deep, familiar voice Tess knew belonged in her reality and not in her many-times great-grandmother’s makeshift realm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me. Fuck, she couldn’t handle the sensory overload. Vanilla from now on.”

“Hmm?” Pushing her eyelids up was an unexpected chore, but somehow Tess managed it and her vision focused on Harvey leaning over her, his face fixed with consternation.

He brushed her hair back from her face and pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Tess. You passed out. If I had known—”

She shook her head, and peeled off the clammy rag. She was cold enough as it was. “I’m okay. It wasn’t your fault. I kinda…left my body for a moment.”

His brow furrowed. “Left your body? What do you mean?”

“I mean I…” Her jaw flapped silently for a few beats before she closed it. She didn’t have the words to explain it. “Um.” She sat up and pulled the covers up over her breasts, fidgeting with the satin trim of the adobe red sheets.

“You’re hiding from me. That’s not good.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to pull my thoughts together.” It’d been hard before, and still was, but for different reasons now. The full barrage of the Afótama web hadn’t hit her. Fuck, here it was.

She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on pushing the buzz to the back of her head like Ótama said.

It wasn’t working. She could still hear the discordant, wordless chatter of too many people speaking all at once. Given the late hour, they must have all been dreaming.

She rubbed her eyes. “God. Or gods. Whatever.” Maybe the best she could do until she spoke with her grandmother was to try to ignore it.

She pressed her fingertips to his cheek and concentrated hard on the sound of her own thoughts and sought out the sound of his.

His sharp inhale told her he understood the point of the connection, and he grabbed her wrist and pressed her hand tighter to his face. “There you are.”

She nodded. “There’s…there’s so much noise.”

“I imagine there is. It’s always been there for me. It just got a little louder when I came here. In time, it’ll become a part of you.”

Did she want that?

She pulled his hands onto her lap and squeezed them.

When she’d been with her grandmother, she’d thought this was no big deal and that she was ready for this. She’d wanted this rebirth as someone more powerful and important than before—someone worth respecting. When she’d left Ótama, she’d been certain she could do it and that she’d been born to. But, now that she was back in the real world with her brain feeling like an overblown balloon, all that confidence seeped away.

“Yeah,” she said. “In time.”

6

Oliver Gilisson avoided sleep the same way some people avoided saturated fat and alcohol. It was bad for him; however, it wasn’t his body suffering for overindulgence, but his mind.

He couldn’t sleep without her popping in for a dreamtime visit…and he hadn’t even known who she was. She’d been haunting him for six years, even before his wife died. He would have felt guilty about the carnal nature of his dreams, but he wasn’t the one controlling them. How could he be, when he’d never seen the woman in his life? Besides, the only good things to come out of his marriage were his sons. Everything else added to the heartache.

Kristy, his wife, had been broken. She was an aberration amongst people programmed to mate for life—to not inflict emotional harm their lovers. She’d put on a good act, and he thought he’d felt her love for him. But, she’d turned out to be a psychic liar. She’d clouded her own thoughts and emotions and projected what she wanted people to hear and feel, and not what was the truth.

When she’d had her accident, he’d had a hard time finding any tears for her.

He knew he shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but she’d undermined his trust with what amounted to a throwaway lover. And then did it again. Again. And Again. He lost track of just how many others there were, and what made it all worse were the calls on the landline phone from men asking for her.

Matt would just hang up on them, but Lyman was only twelve. He didn’t bounce back so well when folks asked for his dead mother. Ollie had had to change the number recently, which created quite the administrative clusterfuck for his motorcycle repair business.

Jeff, owner of the Fallon, Nevada bar frequented regularly by their kind, pushed a shot across the bar at Ollie. “What’s crawled up your ass today? I’m getting a lot of mental static from you.”

Ollie pulled the shot of vodka closer and stared into the clear liquid as if the surface would give him answers. “You know what today is?”

Jeff grunted. “How can I forget? The lead-up’s the same every year. You act like everything’s okay, but then I don’t hear shit from you for two weeks because you’re at home feeling sorry for yourself, and then you finally drag your ass out on the anniversary to drink your sorrows away.”

“Am I that predictable?”

He caught Jeff’s shrug in his periphery. “If it were me, I might be the same way. That’s why I don’t fuck with our women anymore. Life’s easier that way. There’s something wrong with the women out here. You notice it? They all seem defective like that.”

“I honestly haven’t paid too much attention.”

“Think about it.” Jeff leaned in close and pretended to scrub a stubborn spot off the gleaming oak bar. “You ain’t been so tuned in, but it’s happening more and more. Bunch of cheats, the lot of them. I don’t know if it’s them being led by example, or if it’s something in the blood.”

Ollie found that observation interesting. “Matt’s girlfriend dumped him last week. Confused him. At that age, they’re pretty much guaranteed to stick.”

Matt was nearly eighteen. That was usually when they paired off, when they felt the pull to find their mates. That’s when Ollie had taken his, but maybe he wasn’t such a shining star example of matrimony.

“See? They’re not sticking like they used to, and I ain’t gonna let none of them chew me up. No fuckin’ way.”

Ollie chuckled and picked up the shot glass. “You’re getting old,” he said, switching back to normal speech. He tossed back the shot and gestured for another one.

Jeff poured it. “Same age as you, motherfucker. Maybe I’m just not cut out to do the daddy thing. By the time I get around to having them, gods-damned arthritis will probably have set in and this beautiful Nordic mane of mine and the matching carpet will have gone gray.” He gave his long blond braid a sassy flick over his leather-clad shoulder and wriggled his eyebrows.

Ollie groaned and poured the second shot down his throat. Most of the men of a certain age in their crew liked keeping their hair long enough to braid, but Ollie preferred having his short. It was probably a leftover tendency from his Air Force days. Shit, he hadn’t even been out all that long.

“Nah, I’m good. I gotta…” Ollie clamped his lips and pushed the glass at Jeff. “You pegged me on one problem, but I have a bigger one.”

“Oh, shit. Hold on. Let me deal with this fucker waving an empty bottle at me.” Jeff moved to the other end of the bar, and Ollie turned his hands over and stared at the set-in stains from motorcycle grease and the scars from his handling of bladed weapons. His old man had been big on tradition and had Ollie sparring with an axe long before he bought him his first gun.

Ollie’s ex-wife had hated his rough hands. She’d never said as much, but now that she was gone, her revulsion had been clear. She apparently liked her men pretty, so what had she wanted with him in the first place?

Jeff plopped a cold bottle of water in front of Ollie, and Ollie grunted his thanks.

Jeff started wiping that invisible spot again. “All right. Lay it on me.”

“All right. Have you been keeping up with the news from the group in New Mexico?”

Jeff did the psychic equivalent of a chortle. “Yeah, I read the newsletter. Muriel found her girl. Good for them. They’re big on their hierarchy, ain’t they?” He made a moue of distaste.

Ollie understood Jeff’s revulsion. Their group had no such structure. They’d isolated themselves from the Afótama community pretty much from the time they stepped foot on North American soil. Yeah, they’d ended up in the southwest just like them—and others of their kind—but that was coincidence. They’d fled toward the frontier, and they just happened to be going in the same direction.

The Afótama were just too fucking caught up in order and rules, and sometimes folks needed room to stretch their wings. Ollie had had enough bosses in his life, having done his stint in the Air Force. He was his own boss now, and hadn’t wanted a queen.

And then he saw her. He knew she was his.

Ollie put the water bottle to his lips and took a long swallow. “Yeah. Contessa. They call her Tess. She’s the real deal. They had the DNA checked and everything. They’re set to inaugurate or whatever they do for the queen tomorrow. Word is she’s going to pick a consort, too.”

Jeff’s silver eyes went wide and he stopped scrubbing. “Damn, they move fast. Efficient motherfuckers, aren’t they? She’s either already knocked up or she found one of their guys on the outside and brought him in. Well, good luck to her. Learning curve is going to be a son of a bitch for someone who’s been out of the loop all her life.”

Ollie’s fist had tensed around the water bottle, sending the contents puddling onto the counter, but he’d barely noticed the mess because Jeff’s words were that distracting. No way could she be mated already. No fucking way.

Jeff sighed. “Giving me something to clean up for real, huh?”

When Ollie didn’t answer immediately, Jeff turned his back and fiddled with the canister he used to store peanuts.

“You’re defensive about her. Why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Come on, man. We go back to preschool days. If you say it, I’ll believe it. Try me.”

“Well, you asked for it, so I will. That’s her.”

Jeff turned. “What’s who?”

Ollie’s shoulders fell. “The woman. The phantom who has been inflicting me with pernicious blue balls for the past six years. The one who haunts my sleep.”

Jeff shook his head and tossed his rag onto the counter. “You are so fucked.” He cringed, and added telepathically, “Even if Muriel lets you into her home, I doubt she’d let you anywhere near her granddaughter because of that whole pariah outcast thing. Remember that? When our big brawny guys left their skinny asses on the coast with the wee baby Sævör and told them to fend for themselves?”

“She’s mine, Jeff. I know it.”

Jeff leaned his elbows onto the bar top and scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be just your fucking luck, dude? Defective wife, and now a mate whose grandma ain’t gonna let you near her heir.”

“She’ll have to. I know the rules.”

Jeff scoffed. “Rules? You’re real forgetful today. We ran from them rules.”

“No, our ancestors did. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know them. She’s mine, and I want her. She’s my match.”

“Okay. Sure you do, and sure she is. What are your boys gonna say?”

As if Ollie hadn’t given that any thought. He’d been thinking about nothing but the consequences ever since that e-newsletter from the Afótama information office hit his inbox. “The boys are going to have to get over it.”

Ollie tossed Jeff a few bills for the water and the shots, and slipped his leather jacket on. “I’ll call my aunt to check in on the boys. That’s a fifteen-hour ride from here. I’m leaving now to get there before one of those suburban pansies stakes a claim on her. If they touch her, I’ll…” He pinched his lips together on the words he knew he’d regret uttering.

He knew what he was and what his father’s line was bred to be. He was meant to be big and ruthlessly violent—a defender. But, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman. He’d abide by the customs and hold his fucking temper in check or else. He hadn’t lost it in all those years with his late wife, and he wasn’t going to lose it now, although, for some reason, it was becoming so much harder to tamp down.

No, he knew the reason. It was because it was Contessa. She was going to steamroll him, and he didn’t care one bit.

7

Nan led Tess down the wide aisle with their arms hooked, waving at the Afótama in congregation.

“Smile, child,” she projected.

Tess sighed and put on the happiest face she could manage. She was doing all she could to stay upright.

The capitol’s assembly room had been cleared of its tidy rows of heavy wood tables and hard-backed chairs to make space for a standing room-only gala.

Long live the matriarch. Long live the queen.

Tess hadn’t known what to expect. Not a coronation of any sort. It’d been obvious from the moment she’d stepped onto the tarmac at the local airport that her grandmother wasn’t that kind of queen. There wouldn’t be crowns or scepters. No thrones to sit on.

There was a dais and a microphone stand set behind a large, tasteful floral arrangement, and that’d been it.

Nan had said a few words, but Tess hadn’t heard a single one of them. There had to be a thousand people in that room, all eyes on her, and their thoughts crowded her head like sharks in a chum-filled tank.

Too close.

Too many.

She didn’t need ceremony to take on the queen’s burden. That had started the moment she’d taken Harvey to bed. Her brain had been a confused muddle before, but now it was a non-stop hum of voices that increased in volume with every new connection she made.

The receiving line had been a special kind of hell.

Gods.

Nadia caught up to them at the end of the aisle and grabbed Tess’s free arm. “You’ve got to stay up late and party with the little kids. There are balloons and face painting and everything. Come on, it’s traditional. It’ll be a good chance for you to network with some of the mommies and kids our future heir will rub little chubby elbows with.”

Tess nearly tripped over the hem of her ball gown, but Nan and Nadia kept her upright. “Why do you hate me so much? I can’t do it. No fucking way. If one more person touches me tonight…”

“What makes you think I hate you?” Nadia asked. She pulled the top of her strapless leather dress up a little higher over her tits and crossed her arms over them.

“You’re joking, right? If I were drowning, you would wait an extra five seconds to see if I figured out how to rescue myself, and then if you did save me, you’d bark at me for causing your make-up to smear.”

“Not true. Nan would kill me if I let you drown.”

“See my point? Also, you stabbed me in the neck two weeks ago. Let’s not forget about that.”

Nadia shrugged. “So I jumped the gun. No one’s ever accused me of being tentative.”

“Do you need more cuddling in your life or something? Is that what it is?”

“I usually sleep with Nan when I’m here, but she kicked me out. She says I bruise her shins.”

Tess turned to Nan. “Is she kidding?”

“No. She’s like most of us. A bit…surly when she’s skin-starved. And, yes, she’s a bruiser. She needs to find a new bedmate, and if you’re not going to let Mr. Lang back into your suite, it may as well be you. Oh, she’s pulling your leg about partying with the kids, though. There’s no such tradition, but I must say the children are very curious about you. The boys think you’re pretty.”

“Good to know they have their priorities straight. And you know why I haven’t let Harvey in.”

“They’re Afótama. They’re like that from a young age. And, yes, I know the cause of your separation. Reconnect with him tonight, though. I know your head is a wilderness right now, but you’re queen. You need him to fill in your gaps. It’s important.”

“I’ll try.”

They stepped through the double-doors leading into the closed-off administrative offices, and the guard closed the door on them. The music in the assembly hall cranked up, and cacophonous laughter was heard in the small spaces of time when the rock and roll didn’t overpower it.

Finally, Tess could breathe. Her shoulders fell from her ears, and she rolled them back, moaning indulgently.

“They do expect you back in there to mingle,” Nan said, tipping her head toward the doors.

“But if we keep the champagne flowing they won’t give a shit,” Nadia said. “Break out the good stuff. How often do we have reason to celebrate shit around here?” She did a little shimmy that made Nan roll her eyes.

“Go on up to your suite, Tess,” Nan said. “I’ll bring you up some dessert in a while. It won’t cure your headache, but at least it’ll soothe your spirit.”

“Sounds good to me.” She stepped out of her pinching stilettos and grabbed them by the heels. “You’ll find Harvey and send him up? I haven’t seen him in about an hour.”

“I’ll find him,” Nadia said. “He’s probably hanging out with my dad and Jody talking about security stuff. That’ll be his job soon.”

“Right.” Tess curled her toes into the carpet and willed herself to take the few steps to the stairwell. She didn’t even have to look to know she had some fantastic bruises on her feet, and probably a couple of blisters, too. She’d been on her feet for three fucking hours, and not a sip of booze had passed her lips.

Torture.

“You need directions?” Nadia asked.

“Ha ha. I’m going as soon as the cramps in my feet wind down. Fuck you for picking out five-inch heels for me, by the way.”

Nadia somehow managed to properly curtsy in her ultra-tight dress. “Love you, cousin.”

“Hopefully no one thinks they’ve inherited a weak queen because I didn’t stick around tonight.” Tess shifted her weight from one painful arch to the other. “You know, I’ve been in much more stressful situations in the past. There was this one time I fled a police chase by running into the back door of a Miami strip club. I had my clothes off by the time I made it to the stage. The cops had walked from the back door, through the club—but they wouldn’t look up, you know? I guess they were too green and respectful. Had their blinders on and didn’t see a thing.”

Nan shook her head and waved a dismissive hand at them. “I don’t want to hear this. So, what happened next?”

Nadia cackled.

Tess shrugged. “Well, I finished the set and picked up a cool two hundred bucks. Then I grabbed my clothes, ran, and vowed from that point out to never again borrow a police officer’s motorcycle. That was different, though. I know how to run and how to fight, but this…” She gestured to the assembly hall and all the people within it. “I’m not wired for this.”

In the two weeks since she’d tapped into the web, instead of getting better at corralling its information, psychic snippets bounced around in her head like mechanized Ping-Pong balls. She couldn’t shut them off, and there was no switch to mute them. It was worse than a migraine she couldn’t shake. The only thing that gave her some semblance of control was to sit in a dark room alone with eyes, repeating things over and over again. Lately, Imagine Dragons lyrics were doing the trick.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” She retreated to her suite, tossed her shoes onto the floor, and collapsed onto the end of the bed. No sooner had she closed her eyes was there a tap on the door.

“That was fast.” Nan must have grabbed the first dessert plate that crossed her path. “Come in. I haven’t even taken my dress off.”

The heavy wooden double doors creaked as they were pushed inward, and Harvey stepped just across the threshold.

She chuckled to herself, observing he’d been trussed up pretty splendidly himself. He was always well put-together in his quality suits and well-cut shirts, but there was something to be said for a tuxedo on a tall, athletic man. She eyed him from the tip of his polished shoes, up long legs she knew were all lean muscle from years of competitive swimming, past his trim waist, and paused at his bow tie, dangling at the neck.

He’d looked far more comfortable than she had during her official, and overdue, ceremony. He knew her well and spoke for her when she couldn’t string a sentence together, and made her social debut all around less awkward. He was in his element around their people, whereas Tess was drowning in them.

“Tess,” he said, and his deep voice stirred her back to the here and now. To his face.

His eyes were narrowed in consternation, lips set in a tight line, and his eyebrows bunched.

And he just stood there in the doorway.

“You volunteered, Harvey.” A grin pushed at her cheeks. “Did you finally understand what sort of walking disaster you’d be aligning yourself with forevermore?”

He shook his head. “I’ve known for a long time what sort of disaster you are. That wouldn’t make me change my mind. I like a challenge.”

She crossed her legs at the knees and leaned back onto her elbows, cocking up an eyebrow. “Still intent on taming me, then? You should know better.”

Once more, he shook his head. “I like you wild.”

“Then what?”

His lips parted and he drew in a deep breath, but when no words came out, Tess felt a prickle of disquietude that had nothing to do with the sort of psychic she was supposed to be. This was pure observation, because she knew him that well.

He didn’t say anything, but turned his head minutely to the left as if he heard something Tess could not. He took a few more steps into the room and turned his back to Tess, and before she could ask him what was bothering him, Nan entered the room, clutching the long skirt of her ball gown to hold the hem off the floor.

Tess stood. “Nan?”

Nan dropped the skirt and shifted her clear blue gaze from Tess to Harvey, and then back to Tess. “We have an unexpected situation,” she started, and there was a bit of a nervous warble in her usually commanding tone. When she spoke, people listened and had no doubts that they should obey. Everyone knew she had the ear of the gods through Ótama, and was rumored to be highly favored by the goddess Gefjon. The Afótama greenhouses practically overflowed with fruits and vegetables, in spite of the shortage of water in the desert. Karmic payback for their people starving back in Europe.

“What’s unorthodox, Nan?”

“Usually, when a man claims one of our women, there’s no contention or challenging.”

“But—”

“But some asshole seems to think I’m not alpha enough for you, Tess,” Harvey said with a dry bark of laughter that couldn’t sound further from mirthful. He dragged a hand through his loose hair and gave it a small yank. “He doesn’t think a guy like me is cut from the right cloth to be the queen’s consort, but if he thinks he’s going to just walk in here and put his mark on you like you’re a piece of goddamned property—”

Nan didn’t say anything, at least not aloud, but Harvey’s words came to an abrupt stop.

She twined her fingers together at her belly and turned her head toward Harvey. He bowed slightly, and said quietly, “I apologize, Muriel, but given the circumstances…”

“I’m aware of the circumstances, Mr. Lang, and my last job before I completely abdicate is deciding what to do about them. If I’d ever thought I’d be in a situation where I’d have to mediate a partnership debate over my own granddaughter, I would have bet good money on it.”

“What you’re saying is that this has never happened since you’ve been queen?” Tess asked. She appreciated they were speaking aloud instead of trying to converse telepathically. She would probably have crumbled under the added mental onslaught.

Nan turned back to Tess and shook her head. “Most of us have a good idea of who we’d like to pair off with from the time we’re very young, and others respect that potential bonding.”

“I don’t like it,” Harvey said.

Tess scoffed. “Well, I don’t like any of this. I’m supposed to be queen, and yet I feel like I don’t have a say in what’s supposed to be one of the most important decisions of my life. I chose Harvey. I knew what I was doing when we…”

She zipped her lips. No need to go into graphic details.

“Of course you have a say,” Nan said. “All I ask is of you, as your queen, is that you try to respect the old ways, although you weren’t raised in them.” She pressed her hands to Tess’s shoulders and rubbed up and down her arms. Her expression softened. “As your grandmother, I only ask that you try to keep our family tree from coming to an abrupt halt. We’ve got deep roots, and short branches, my love. It’s not just your burden, but Jody’s and Nadia’s as well.”

Tess didn’t doubt her brother and cousin had already gotten the be fruitful and multiply speech numerous times already, because they were also keeping with the trend of the generation and hadn’t yet taken partners. Apparently, it was Tess’s job to lead the charge.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked on a sigh.

Nan’s smooth forehead furrowed, and she chafed Tess’s shoulders some more. “The challenge is yours as much as it is Mr. Lang’s. If Mr. Gilisson is strong enough, he can force the pairing. It rarely happens, as it’s something we look down on. In fact, most view it as a sort a crime when it’s done to the clan’s rulers, but again, it’s one of those things that hasn’t happened in so long that I can’t suggest a course of action for you.”

“I may not be great at jumping to conclusions, but I do have a good gut for actions. I do the instinctive thing. It usually works out. I’m sure it will this time, too.” Tess sounded more confident than she felt. She hoped that she could plot a path out of this mess, now that it really mattered. If she had to bond with anyone, she’d prefer it to someone she knew and liked.

Nan laughed softly. “That was one of Ótama’s gifts. You should trust it.”

The comparison to her forebear filled Tess with peace, but it was short-lived. The noise in her head was too loud. “All I can do is try.”

“I’m going to go fetch Mr. Gilisson and take my leave for the evening.”

Tess grabbed at her grandmother’s arm before she could turn away. “Wait, you’re just going to bring him here and leave him? No chaperone?”

Nan shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. This is to be worked out between you, Mr. Lang, and Mr. Gilisson. I doubt they’ll come to blows, sweetheart. Not in front of you, at least. It’d be unseemly because you’re supposed to be protected from violence.”

Tess snorted.

Nan sighed. “At least pretend to let your entourage fight your battles. That’s all I ask. Your mother would have wilted at the thought of getting into the thick of things.”

“Is that a judgment?”

“No.” This time, when Nan pulled away, Tess let her. “You’re very different from your mother, but there’s no doubt who you come from.”

Tess let her grandmother’s words settle in pieces into her brain while watching her skirt swish as she retreated toward the double doors.

Tess sat on the foot of the bed again, and twined her fingers.

She’d been at this place less than a month and couldn’t really be expected to understand the ways of these people, but so many of the Afótama customs seemed contradictory. They were descended from Vikings, but because females tended to be the stronger psychics, the women ruled the clan. If Tess was meant to govern, why couldn’t she veto this challenger right off the bat? Why did he get the final say?

Heavy footsteps became louder as someone made their way up the stairs just beyond the doors. Harvey loped toward the door, and Tess stood.

“Wait here with me,” she said, and he stopped.

He looked from the door, to Tess, and swallowed.

“Please.”

He nodded, and joined her near the bed. When she sat, with her foot tapping involuntarily and hands shaking, he sat, too, and pressed a hand to her knee. “I won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t want,” he said.

The words barely registered, because when the man who was apparently Mr. Gilisson stood in the doorway, he drew all the air out of the room with his presence.

At least, it seemed that way to Tess.

Fuck. To say she was confused would have been like saying an ice cube sank the Titanic. With him now in the room, she didn’t feel chagrined about his challenge. It seemed…appropriate.

He straightened, slowly, keeping his mismatched eyes locked on Tess. “May I come in?”

Suddenly, Tess had a very good idea of what scary-beautiful meant. It was standing in front of her. This guy was big—not only tall, but also broad at the shoulders. How the hell had she missed him in the soiree? He couldn’t have been there. He wasn’t wearing a tux, but pair of well-loved blue jeans and a black shirt under a leather jacket. He looked like he could command a Viking longship as easily as a motorcycle club. And she knew a little something about motorcycle clubs. She’d hidden out in one during the year she was nineteen.

“Tess?” Harvey gave her knee a squeeze and she turned to him.

“Yes?”

“He asked to come in. I think you know what the answer would be if it were up to me.”

Of course he could come in. Why was he still standing there in the doorway like…

Oh.

“Come in and close the doors,” she said, sounding authoritative, but certainly not feeling it.

Mr. Gilisson nodded, shut the doors quietly, and turned to her. “Contessa, I challenge anyone who would claims your hand. I invoke the right to declare hólmganga.”

When he started across the sisal rug, Harvey stood, raring for a fight, but Tess grabbed him by the waistband and pulled him back.

Mr. Gilisson stopped in front of her and dropped onto one knee. He reached for her hand, and she gave it, just like that.

She didn’t know how, but he honed in on a little birthmark on her wrist right beneath the palm and massaged it.

“Of course it’s there,” he said. “I know almost everything about you.”

“Who doesn’t?” Harvey snapped. “Everything about her has been laid bare for everyone who wanted to know. She’ll never have a moment’s privacy ever again.”

Mr. Gilisson ignored him and locked that odd stare on her. One blue eye, and one eye that was half blue and half brown. A beautiful deformity. “Contessa,” he said, and turned her hand over. “I’m Oliver. Your Ollie.”

“Ollie?” Should she have known that name? She checked in with her gut, and it told her nothing. She was on her own with this.

He put his lips over that faint birthmark then took her hand in both of his. It was a romantic gesture with him down on his knee like he was.

“Yes, Contessa. I’ve been dreaming of you almost every night for six years. Until a week ago, I didn’t think you were real.”

Her mind was blissfully quiet for once, so she couldn’t blame the chatter on the Afótama web for her inability to formulate a quick response.

Six years of dreams?

Who the hell was this guy?

8

Ollie’s would-be beloved sat in a state of stunned horror. Those tawny eyes went wide and lips parted wordlessly.

“Dreaming of me?” Tess’s words jostled him from his thoughts, and all he could do was nod like an idiot.

She was so fucking beautiful. Before now, she’d had a masterful poker face. He couldn’t glean a goddamned thing off her thoughts. No words, no emotions. She was locked down tight, and that scared him. There weren’t too many Afótama, female or not, who could do that. Muriel was the only other person he’d encountered who could, and he’d made a habit of giving the former queen a wide berth whenever they threatened to cross paths.

“Yes. In living color, baby.”

“Don’t get too familiar,” the man in the tux said, and Ollie wanted to pop him a good one. Just a little black eye to decorate that too-pretty face. No big deal. He refused to give up Tess’s hands to do it, though.

Gentleman. Be a gentleman.

“It’s all right, Harvey,” she said, but looked at Ollie. “I’d like to hear what he has to say. I don’t think he wants to be here.”

She was a smart one. Gods, how refreshing.

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be your consort. I don’t care about that. I want to take you home, because you’re mine.”

Her eyebrows darted up and cheeks flooded bright red. She didn’t grab her hand back, though. That was a good sign, right?

“Y-yours?”

“Happens every now and then. We all have someone who’s good for us, though most of us settle for whoever’s close.” He cut his gaze to the asshole in the tux and then back to Contessa. “When I was a kid, my mother told me that sometimes folks like us put out psychic feelers for our mates and they may come to us in our dreams. I didn’t remember that until I rode out here. It was a long ride, and I had a lot of time to think.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Have you dreamed about me? Even once?”

“I—”

She didn’t manage to get out whatever she was going to say, because that asshole in the tux reached for her knee and squeezed it. “You don’t need to indulge his curiosity, Tess.”

Tess, he’d called her. Tess. Obviously, Ollie wasn’t the only one getting familiar.

Ollie let go of her hand and balled his into loose fists at his sides. He locked a cold stare on the asshole in the tux, hoping to convey a threat with his gaze. “Back off unless you want to see me become uncivil.”

Asshole in the tux narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead, Paul Bunyan. Show her your true colors.”

It pained Ollie to concede it, but the guy had a point. He wasn’t going to fight like an alpha wolf over a preferred mate. All he had to do was prove the gods favored their match. It wasn’t like it would be an inconvenience. Once he got her clothes off and his hands on her body, she’d know what he already did.

He took a deep breath, let it out, then reached for her hand again.

She gave it to him readily.

“I don’t want to make demands of you, but you should know you have options. I just want to make sure you know what they are. That’s all I ask.”

“You’re asking a lot. Maybe it doesn’t seem that way to you, but perhaps you didn’t hear. I didn’t grow up in this place.”

He chuckled. “Neither did I. I’m practically an outcast. I’m surprised they let me in the gates.”

“What would an outcast want with me?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard rumblings about the splinter groups and how they continuously seek to undermine the peace here. Maybe they’re the ones who kidnapped me twenty-something years ago.”

He would have pulled what little bit of hair he had if he were willing to let go of her hand. Obviously, that fifteen hours on his bike plus the few hours he’d stopped for food and rest hadn’t been long enough to think through all the ramifications of him claiming her.

He chose his words carefully. “I know that happens far more often than you should be comfortable with, but I can promise you it’s not my group. We don’t make trouble, because we don’t like the attention. Stirring up Afótama doesn’t serve our purposes.”

“That doesn’t reassure me, Mr. Gilisson.”

He cringed. So formal. “Call me Ollie.”

She turned to the asshole in the tux whose gaze was locked on Ollie. His expression was pulled in some inscrutable configuration Ollie wouldn’t have been able to make heads or tails of if it weren’t for the fact Ollie could glean bits and pieces of his thoughts.

This guy didn’t trust him. He was angry with Ollie for coming here. He probably believed Contessa needed a familiar face and forgiving friend in her ranks, not a stranger.

He had to know her from before—he must have been one of the missing ones, too.

Ollie hated to do it, but he’d have to make the guy understand that Tess didn’t need mild-mannered betas in her entourage. She needed a man who’d tell it to her straight and the wise counsel a woman of her stature required.

“Fine. Ollie,” she said. “Your presence here came as a surprise to all of us, so you’ll have to tell us what you expect to happen.”

He knew what was going to happen. They’d psychically tether to each other and fill in each other’s gaps. They’d be better than what they were when they started and completely tapped in to each other’s emotional wellbeing. It was inevitable, because he’d had the dreams and she was promised to him. It wasn’t a question of what, but a question of when.

“All I ask is that we try to connect and see what happens. You can try it with your friend here, too. I do believe you’ll find one of us to be more compatible than the other, and the decent thing for the man who falls short to do would be to back off.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it without having said a word. Looking to her friend, she squeezed Ollie’s hand tight. “Are you okay with that arrangement, Harvey?”

Harvey’s nostrils flared and eyes flashed dark. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before he responded. “I won’t buck tradition, but it’s not up to me. The better question would be if you’re comfortable with it.”

She turned back to Ollie, and her cautious expression gave way to something softer. Anticipatory, even.

Her hungry gaze flitted down his body to where his thighs joined before quickly darting back up to his eyes.

Ah. He had to stifle the chuckle building in his throat. It seemed his girl was an opportunist, which suited him just fine. She’d been causing him a great deal of physical distress during the past several years, so it made sense she be the one to cure the ailment.

“Yes,” she said.

Harvey stood and straightened his jacket, eyeing neither Contessa nor Ollie. “If you believe I’m just going to back off, you’ve got another think coming. I’ll give you an hour to figure out you’re all wrong for each other, and I’ll be back.” He started toward the door.

“No need to hurry,” she said.

Harvey stopped and turned, shock pulling at his features.

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Tess…”

“Harvey, it’s been a long day.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, and she stared down at her feet. How odd that she would worry about offending him instead of the other way around.

His jaw ground side to side a few beats, then he nodded curtly and walked away. He slammed the doors behind him, and Tess blew out a long sigh.

“I hope I’m not making a mistake,” she said. Now she did let go of Ollie’s hands and immediately began fidgeting with the end of her braid. “He’s been the only friend I’ve had for so long. I thought he was my mate, and I still think that, but…”

Ollie stood and followed in Harvey’s footsteps to the doors. He didn’t leave through them, however, but locked them. He didn’t turn back to her until his teeth had ceased their grinding. That guy was her mate? No way. Not even a little bit. “My being here is no mistake.”

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby armchair.

“The longer you’re around us, your people, you’ll begin to acquire a knack for trusting the folks who deserve it.”

She pressed a finger inside her plait and began working it free. “Do you deserve it, Mr. Gil—Ollie?”

“I do.” He managed to heel off his harness boots without looking away from her. Watching her uncoil that braid mesmerized him like string to a cat. In his dreams, her dark curls were always untamed and made her seem much younger than she was.

Actually…

“Contessa, excuse me for being blunt, but how old are you?” Fuck, if she were one of the last ones abducted, she couldn’t be much more than twenty. Twenty was an age he had no desire to relive—not even through her.

The fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened as her smile broadened. “Didn’t do your research?”

At least one of them was finding the scenario amusing. “I didn’t care at the time. I just hopped on my bike and came.”

Her eyebrows arched up teasingly, and she pressed her fingers to the crown of her head and mussed her hair. Her curls sprang out, much flatter than he knew they should have been, but at least she looked more like the woman he knew…or thought he knew.

“I’m legal.” She walked up to him, grinning, and turned her back. She moved her hair to the side and pointed to the zipper at the top of her dress. “Can you help me out of this thing? I swear, there must be sandpaper in the lining.”

He grabbed the zipper pull, but didn’t work it down just yet. “You have to give me something a little better than legal. I’m going to see forty in a couple of years.” And he had a son who was nearly eighteen.

She sighed. “If I tell you, will you help me with the zipper? I really am suffering here.”

“Depends on what you tell me.” Fated mate or not, he wasn’t taking home a baby. No way. He’d put his boots and jacket back on, and come back and fetch her in a few years when she was done incubating.

“Everyone else here bends over backward to give me what I want, so of course, I would have to be locked in a room with the one man in a five-mile radius who’d give me a hard time.”

Oh, she hadn’t seen a hard time yet. She’d be seeing what that meant all night assuming whatever number passed her lips was sufficiently high. He’d have that zipper down so fast that the plastic teeth would melt.

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Thank fuck.” He worked the long zipper down far enough past her hips that he regretted it, because all of a sudden he lost blood pressure in the head that mattered more.

If those counted as panties, she needed to return them and get her money back.

And then the blood came back to his head and pounded in his ears. She’d worn those things knowing someone—Harvey—would see them.

Obviously, Harvey needed killing. Ollie had just the right axe for it. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on point of view, it was in Fallon.

“Ollie.”

He looked down to find Contessa tapping his chest and giving him a bemused look.

Damn, she was tinier than he’d thought. Or maybe he was just that big. Sometimes he lost perspective. She barely cleared his chest.

“You kind of zoned out there for a moment. Did you hear what I said?”

“No. I’m sorry. I got distracted by your underwear.”

She shrugged. “I usually don’t wear any, but I wanted to make the dry cleaner’s job a little easier.”

“That supposed to be comforting?”

Satan could have taken smiling lessons from her, because her smile said without question that she was up to no fucking good.

“I’m going to go wash off this slap of make-up and slip out of this dress. Be right back. Make yourself comfortable. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the nightstand and a couple of glasses. Pour me some?”

“Whiskey?”

“It’s been a rough few weeks. Long learning curve for a woman like me. I’m still not certain I’m the right lady for the job.” She shook her head and slipped into the en suite bathroom, leaving the door open.

“You belong here, honey.” With me. He sat on the edge of the bed near the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. He pulled out the whiskey, chuckling. She had quite a collection amassed during her short tenure. It was a veritable treasure trove of odds and ends. A handful of matchbooks—some from roadside haunts he recognized—a knife, a small photo album, more tubes of lip balm than one woman should own in a lifetime, but what tickled him the most was the pile of kid’s meal toys. Mostly action figures and racecars.

She turned off the bathroom light and came out drying her face on a hand towel. Beautiful woman. She didn’t need all that shit, anyway…but she did need to put some clothes on or he would have her face down and ass-up in about fifteen seconds.

Holy mother.

He cast his gaze to the ceiling and flitted through his mental Rolodex for the name of the appropriate god to call on. Certainly one of the numerous deities in the pantheon had in his or her domain prevention of premature ejaculation.

Her breasts were even more fucking amazing in person than they had been in his dreams. They were round and heavy and would fit perfectly into his Paul Bunyan palms.

“My nightshirt is under that pillow,” she said with a laugh.

Mercifully, he turned to the headboard and lifted the pillow. He pulled the folded garment from beneath it and held it in front of him.

She took it, still laughing. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so uninhibited.”

“And why does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t. It just makes it more difficult for me to be a gentleman. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but when you’re in front of me like that… Well, you don’t want to know what’s going through my head.” Ollie pulled the pillow over his lap to hide the clues as to just what was going through his head. Or heads.

Was it Thor? No, Thor wouldn’t give a damn about his dick. Thor would want him to thunder and rumble, which was the exact opposite of what Ollie needed.

Fabric rustled behind him, and he turned to see her nightshirt skimmed her knees.

Thank gods.

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head to side. “Actually, I do want to know what’s going through your head. The big head, I mean.” Her grin was wolfish.

Little minx…

He grunted and tossed the pillow away. Standing, he pulled her against him so quickly she gasped. He held her tight so his erection ground against her belly.

“The big head cautions patience, yet at the same time, expects that I’ll find the limit to my self control sooner than I’d like.”

“What’ll happen if you lose your self control?”

“Let’s just say that what’ll happen when I do won’t be sweet and gentle.”

He expected her to flinch, but she didn’t. She didn’t recoil. She just took the whiskey bottle from him, uncapped it, and said, “Good.”

Well, damn.

9

Tess let the whiskey burn down her throat and kept her gaze locked on the live wire seated in front of her.

With him so close, and with Harvey gone, she recognized the crackle in the air that had been sending cascading tingles up and down her spine wasn’t merely her anxiety, but Ollie’s energy. He seemed to fill the room, not just with his stature—which she pegged at around six-eight, but with his personality.

She’d been around a lot of Afótama during her crash course, but none had gotten under her skin this way. What was it about him that the others didn’t have?

“Tell me something.” She set her glass on the nightstand and moved closer so her knees touched his shins.

Immediately, he wrapped his hands around her legs and skimmed them up the backs of her thighs. “Anything.”

She gasped, and pushed up onto her tiptoes.

It was just a little, inconsequential touch, and yet her body registered it as a prelude to a main event. Some little voice in her head said she’d been made to respond to his touch, and that it was meant only for her.

But, that couldn’t be true. That was just her ego getting in the way. Of course she didn’t want to think he’d touched some other woman with the same sort of familiarity, but she knew better than that. A man of thirty-eight would have had many women, and Tess shouldn’t even hope to be the best amongst them—queen or not.

She pressed his shoulders and forced her feet flat to the floor. “You said you wanted to take me home. Why wouldn’t you want to stay here?”

“I don’t belong.”

Rough fingertips skimmed the edges of her lace panties and set her toes to curling against the hardwood. Common sense said she should have pushed his hands away because she already had a mate, but nothing else within her wanted that. Her body liked his touch. Her heart had nothing to say about the matter. Her brain, and the crackle of voices that lived in it, asked What’s the harm?

Something had to be seriously screwed up if her flight instinct wasn’t kicking in. Nothing was telling her to stop him. Nothing said she should make him leave. Nothing cared he was a usurper and could only want her for her perceived power and wealth. Those things that kept her out of harm’s way, more or less, for most of the past twenty-eight years had left the building.

Somehow, she’d need to find some self-control in spite of it.

Slowly, he lifted her nightshirt at the front, exposing her thighs inch by inch, and then stopped with the hem just above her navel. He pressed hot lips against her belly, making her abs flutter and pussy clench. He kissed along the waistband and dragged his tongue along the edge.

Her nipples peaked against her soft shirt, and she put her head back with a gasp, clawing at his shoulders.

Her already disjointed thoughts scattered further, ripping her from the here and now to someplace she’d never seen.

The desert stretched endlessly around her and the retreating sun was chased by the red and purple hues of dusk. It was quiet—barren except for a few scrubby bushes and cacti, and should have been altogether inhospitable.

But, it wasn’t. She didn’t feel lost or frightened in this unidentifiable place. It felt like…home.

Ollie’s home.

And the voices went away.

The vision pulled free as if on a cord being yanked from across the room, and her body moved as if to fetch it back, but Ollie held her firm.

Tess opened her eyes and took a bracing breath to reground herself.

What had just happened? Where was the static, the low roar in her head?

Ollie’s head dipped farther, and he’d nudged down the front of her panties. His tongue probed enticingly at her mound, occasionally separating the slit and teasing her clit.

She’d never been all that hung up on morality, but although what he was doing felt so right, it was wrong.

She clamped her hands on his shoulders and brushed her thumbs over his collarbones. Huge, like everything seemed to be on him. “We-we should stop,” she said breathily.

Sighing, he put his forehead against her thighs. “You’re right. We should. Me getting carried away like that is unforgivable.” He straightened up and turned that odd-hued gaze to her face. “I do have better manners, but I feel like I know you already.”

She knew exactly what he meant. And it wasn’t the same kind of familiarity she felt to the others in the clan. Most of them were just anonymous bodies in a crowd, but he stood out. If she were to stand on a pedestal, he should have been on it with her.

But…not just him. The pedestal seemed big enough for three, and that was insane.

He started pulling away and the roar seeped back into her head.

“Ollie, wait.” She grabbed his forearms and held tight. As long as she was touching him, she could compartmentalize the activity. When he pulled away, it came back even worse than it was before because now she not only was linked into the Afótama, but also to all the people in Ollie’s group whom Nan hadn’t been connected to.

If her brain had possessed a dam, it would have broken upon his first touch.

“Don’t pull away from me,” she said, and she rubbed her palms up his muscular forearms, drawing on his strength and control.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I haven’t been at this long enough, but when I touch you, I—”

Could she tell him? She trusted Harvey to know her secrets because he was her mate. He couldn’t hurt her, and he had the best interests of the Afótama at heart. She could tell him where she was struggling, and he’d be helpful, if he could be, and discreet.

But she didn’t know Ollie that way. He wasn’t Afótama, and she didn’t know if in this instance “close enough” counted.

“You don’t trust me,” he said.

“How much of what I’m thinking can you hear?” It’d be a huge embarrassment if word got out that she was flawed in that way—that she couldn’t lock down her thoughts.

“It’s not what I’m hearing, baby, but what I’m feeling. You’re closed down pretty tight, but I see the turmoil in your face and you’re clinging to me for dear life. You’re breaking my heart because I feel you’re scared, and you won’t tell me why so I can fix it.”

“It’s not your job.”

“It is my job, and that’s why I came here. Fifteen hours on my bike, Contessa.”

“You should have flown.” Lame comeback, and she knew it. She only had half her heart in the argument.

“I’ve spent enough time in the air. I like staying close to earth now.”

“You said you feel that I’m scared. How? We do thoughts more than feelings.”

He fidgeted the heirloom ruby ring on her right hand and furrowed his brow. “I don’t know how much of this you’ve been told. Back when the groups split off, there was a definite delineation of skill sets. It was more common for the folks like you—descendants of Ótama and her kin—to hear. You were communicators. Politicians. More typical were people like me. Farmers and raiders. Our skills evolved a bit differently. We needed to be strong with excellent defense capabilities. We can’t connect over long distances the way you can, but we’re more sensitive to emotions.” He moved on to the ring on her other hand. The pearl was new, but the setting was ancient. “I can tell when people are lying, for instance, and when I’m being insulted. It helps us in battle because we know when to wait, and when to strike.”

“But you didn’t like being told what to do.”

He shook his head. “Still don’t. We lean more toward anarchy than monarchy, but do obey laws of the jurisdiction.”

“Then why do you want me? I stand for everything you don’t like.”

He chuckled. “You’re getting far off-topic. We were talking about what’s bothering you. I already told you why I’m here. The gods chose to favor me by pairing us up, and I’m not so stupid I’d ignore it. Most folks don’t get a second chance.”

“Second?”

He dragged his tongue across his lips and fixed his gaze on her nightshirt’s buttons.

Maybe he didn’t trust her.

And maybe he shouldn’t.

“Ollie?”

“Yes?” He still didn’t look up at her.

“You’d really fight for me? A stranger?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know the rules for this. Nan says it hasn’t happened in her lifetime.”

“It doesn’t happen much of anywhere nowadays, not in any of the groups. No one’s willing to fight for that one great love. That’s what’s breaking us all down now. We get weaker with each generation. I know you think you’ve taken a mate. I believe you’re being honest about that, and being with him has plugged some of those psychic holes, just the way the joining is supposed to. But, something’s missing. He didn’t get all of them.” He pressed his palm over her thrashing heart. “You’re not full here. He left too much room, and that’s why I’m challenging.”

“That’ll come in time. I’ve known him for a long time, but—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Sure, you like him. Respect him. Are attracted to him, maybe, but you don’t love him yet. All I ask is that you give me a chance. I won’t force anything or pick a fight against him unless he goads me. Let me prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust, and that I can be a helpmate to you. I’m a patient man, but if I think I’m being driven away, I will force a challenge. I know the gods are on my side, and that’s not something to be said lightly.”

Wasn’t this what every girl wanted? A knight to her queen—someone willing to take the hard road because he knew it was right and good.

Maybe what he was saying was true and she’d acted hastily by taking Harvey. She thought she’d known what she was doing that night when she slept with him. She wanted her queen’s gifts to bloom under the touch of someone she knew and trusted. But Harvey wasn’t just a friend with benefits. Harvey had something she needed as queen—his level head, his tenacity.

But… Ollie had something, too. He made her heart bloom.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“Is that a request?” He grinned.

“I’m confused.”

“I know, baby. I feel it. But, it’s okay. It’s a lot to take in. Like I said, I can be patient as long as I’m near you.”

She nodded, and loosened her grip on his arms. “I’m sorry to be a party pooper, but I haven’t slept well in a couple of weeks. Can I just…hold your hand until I nod off?”

“Such a simple thing, and you act like it’d be a chore for me.”

“I promise I’m a lot more fun than what you’re seeing. I’ve been known to dance on bar tops in my day.”

“Yeah?” He turned down the covers for her.

She scooted to the middle of the bed and reached for his hand.

“My buddy Jeff owns a bar, and clean freak that he is, he’d find that appalling.” He relaxed with his back against the headboard and crossed his legs at the ankles.

Tess snuggled close to his side and gripped his hand for dear life, being fairly certain he wouldn’t be bothered by it. His presence must have been like what those Vikings felt when they saw land after being at sea for so long. It was comforting and filled her with awe about the multitude of her blessings.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she wanted to savor the feel of him just a while longer. “Jeff. Is he…”

“Like us? Yeah. His bar is called The Longship. He’s got it kitted out with all kinds of Viking kitsch, and all the locals think it’s charming, but all the folks in the gang are in on the joke.”

“Gang?”

“Well, no better word for it. We don’t gather formally like Afótama do, but we do hang out in small groups. Me and Jeff are in the same motorcycle crew.”

“Are they all big like you?” That many giant men in leather…fuck. Her thoughts had gone to a decidedly pornographic place, and since she’d slammed down the gate on sex she needed to think fluffier thoughts, and immediately, or his hand wouldn’t be the only thing she’d be holding.

“Oh, most are average height. We tend to either be tall or stocky. Jeff’s taller than average, but he’s lanky. He makes up for his lack of bulk with attitude.”

Tess rubbed her eyes with her free hand and giggled. “He’d get along swimmingly with my cousin.”

“Remind me not to get on her bad side.”

“Don’t worry, I will. I like you too much to throw you to the shark.”

It shocked her to hear her own words out loud, but she meant it. Fuck, she liked him.

10

“Unlock it.” Harvey shifted the weight of the breakfast tray to his other arm and nodded toward Tess’s suite doors.

Nadia crossed her arms and laid her head to one side, staring at him. She held her full-to-bursting key ring in her hand and tapped it gently against her ribs.

He didn’t need words, because everything she needed to say was in her expression. She may not have been the most gung ho lady-in-waiting, but he knew she took her job seriously because her grandmother’s wrath was a mighty thing.

So was Tess’s, but no other Afótama besides Harvey had bore witness to that yet. It’d been a long time since he’d seen that side of her. Two years.

“I’d like to state for the record that what you’re doing is foolish, and you’re fucking with the queen’s prerogative,” Nadia said.

“She’s my mate. We’ve been halfway bonded since we were kids.”

“Whoopdie-fucking-do. That guy thinks she’s his mate, too, and maybe he’s right.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m on my queen and cousin’s side, believe it or not. You don’t have any close relatives left, so you don’t know what it’s like tuning in to the turmoil in her head. Maybe she can block everyone else out, but she can’t block family if we really try. We check in because that’s what family does, and up until last night, she was sinking under the weight of her gig. Now, her mind’s quiet. Her quiet makes me calm. I like calm. Don’t you?”

“Tess’s wellbeing is my utmost concern. I want her to thrive here and reach her true potential. No one knows Tess like I do, believes in her like I do.”

“I hear you. I get you. I swear I do, but this situation requires delicacy. None of us know how to navigate it, and I suggest that you stay on the high road at all times. Do you get me?”

Given that nasty snap to her voice, he’d be stupid if he didn’t at least pretend.

“I do understand. Please open the door, or have you forgotten she skipped dinner last night?”

She sighed. “And, of course, that’ll be my fault when Nan finds out.” She uncrossed her arms and flipped through the keys. “I hope they’re decent. I’m sure Mr. Gilisson is lovely to look at au naturale, but I’ve seen enough of Tess’s naked ass in two weeks to last me a lifetime. I do wish she’d keep up with her underwear.”

Harvey growled, and Nadia growled right back as she pushed the key into the lock.

“Remember what I said,” she said before pulling the handle.

“I’ll try my hardest.”

“Do better than that.”

Nadia stepped into the dim room, and Harvey followed on her heels, pausing in the entryway just long enough to see that Paul Bunyan motherfucker was still mostly dressed, and on top of the covers.

Tess, under the covers, snuggled against him as if he were her port in the storm.

That was supposed to be Harvey.

Tess wasn’t prone to letting her guard down like that, so the guy was either a masterful liar, or in two weeks, she’d grown desperate for companionship.

“Wake her up gently,” Nadia projected telepathically, “And let her wake him up. Don’t be an asshole.”

“The asshole is the one in my queen’s bed.”

“At least he’s dressed.”

Harvey would have almost preferred them to have fucked and to be sprawled out on the bed—to not touch while they slept. He could deal with the idea of two people caught up in the heat of passion only to pull apart when they were done with each other. Their chaste embrace seemed far more intimate a thing. It indicated the giving and taking of comfort, and that’s something Harvey hadn’t been providing Tess with in the past couple of weeks. He’d been there to prop her up so she could be the strong queen she needed to be, but he hadn’t been there when she needed to decompress. She’d closed him out, choosing to suffer alone.

He set the covered tray on the right nightstand and sat on the vast expanse of empty bed next to Tess. He gave Nadia a probing look, and she shook her head and twirled the key ring around her index finger. “This is your rodeo. I’m just here to run down the day’s schedule. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

It was the potential “killing” that worried him. It was a possible outcome of hólmganga.

He sighed and leaned over Tess. Pulling her hair back from her face and away from her ear, he whispered, “Rise and shine, doll.”

She let out a sleepy little groan and rolled onto her back, stretching her arms over her head. “Hmm?”

“It’s morning, princess. I brought you breakfast.”

Her forehead furrowed before she even got her eyes open. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her tired eyes with her fists. Then she looked to her right, saw the sleeping giant beside her, and then back to Harvey. She stared at him as if she didn’t know what had happened—who they were.

“You all right? Do you…” He cut his gaze to the stranger to make the reason for his query clear. “Do you need some space?”

“Fuck, I must look a fright.” She closed her eyes again and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. He’s the reason I was able to sleep so deeply. What’s that smell? What’d you bring me?”

“What do you mean he’s the reason you were able to sleep? Let me guess—the big thug offered to slip a little something into your nightcap.”

“No. His skill set is just…” She shrugged and turned her gaze to Nadia who was still standing by the door like a coward. “It’s unique. Crowded in here, huh?”

Nadia cleared her throat and shoved the keys into her sweatshirt pocket. “I hate to roll you out of your bed like this on your first full day on the job, but we’ve got some time-sensitive business to deal with. We need to fly into Santa Fe.”

“Why?”

“There are some Afótama up there who’ve requested a meeting and, for a variety of reasons, they can’t come to us. Normally, Lora would have found someone to send in your stead, but they impressed on her the urgency of the situation and said they could only discuss it with you.”

“Who’s Lora?”

Nadia made a waffling hand motion. “She’s half secretary, half communications maven. She controls the flow of information going out of this building and fields appointment requests for people who need to meet with your staff.”

“I’m still trying to get used to having a staff.”

“Well, really, it’s Nan’s staff, and no one will be upset if you decide to clean house and choose your own. Lora’s damned good at what she does, though, so I’d suggest you at least meet with her before you fire her.”

Tess sighed and rubbed her temples. “No one’s getting fired. Not yet, anyway. Right?” She looked to Harvey with uncertainty in her eyes.

It was good to know she still needed him for something—that she hadn’t shut him out completely just yet. “Status quo makes sense for the moment. I wouldn’t advise shaking things up too fast. It would unsettle everyone and put undue tension on the psychic web.”

“Works for me.” She pushed herself upright and straightened her nightshirt. “What time do I need to be ready?” she asked Nadia.

“The flight’s arranged for noon, so you’ve got about ninety minutes to get yourself together. When it’s time, I’ll come get you. I need to go work out the details of our overnight accommodations just in case. The usual place Nan stays at is under renovation so we need to find someplace else that’s secure.”

“I doubt it’ll be a big deal if we stay at a plain old Marriott.”

Harvey nudged a cup of coffee into Tess’s hands and passed over the sugar dish. She scooped two heaping spoonfuls into her mug.

“You know me so well,” she said with a grin.

Damn right, he did.

“Security’s always a major concern for the queen,” came that voice Harvey had hoped he wouldn’t have to hear this morning.

Ollie sat up and surveyed the occupants of the room. He nodded at Nadia, and she returned the gesture.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Must be a relative. You and Tess resemble each other.”

“I’m Nadia, also known as the thorn in our queen’s side, chief confidante, main dress zipper-upper, schedule-keeper, and all-around nag.”

“You’re her aide. Wow. I’m surprised that gig still exists.”

Nadia shrugged and looked from Ollie to Harvey and back again. “It’s temporary. Just until the consort situation gets worked out. Once that gets squared up, she won’t need me.”

Tess sighed and rubbed her temples again.

“You seem to know a hell of a lot about Afótama customs for an outcast,” Harvey said. He leaned forward and looked around Tess to make good eye contact with the other man.

“If there’s something you’d like to accuse me of, please speak it out loud so I can state my offense. I don’t like fighting first thing in the morning, but if you want to pick one, feel free to start.”

“Stop,” Tess whispered. “The noise is back in my head and there seems to be an extra tug of curiosity this morning.”

Nadia grunted. “People want to know about you, is all. Like I said, Lora controls the information going out of this place, so a lot of what they know about you is spoon-fed. Of course, anyone with enough curiosity and the right Internet search phrase can find out things you probably don’t want to have bandied about the mental web.”

“Nope.” Tess took a long sip of her coffee, and leaned her head back against the headboard. “The best I can tell, though, everyone’s fine and not in need of anything critical at the moment. I’ll ask Nan if I’m interpreting that correctly before I leave.”

Ollie looped his fingers around her right wrist, and she offered him a wan grin. “Thanks.”

“Hardly a burden, Tess.”

Harvey’s teeth ground.

“Uh, Ollie, I bet you’re starving,” Nadia said. “You want me to bring you up something?”

“He’s got two functioning legs, and he can walk himself down to the kitchen and get his own meal,” Harvey said. “Or maybe he’ll decide he wants something more familiar. Perhaps from his own kitchen.”

“Harvey,” Tess said with a scold in her voice.

“I am hungry, Nadia,” Ollie said. “I had dinner on the road last night right before I got here and haven’t had anything since. I don’t have a problem with finding the kitchen myself and pouring a bowl of cereal.”

Nadia waved a dismissive hand at him. “They’d never let you do it for yourself. I’ll have something sent up along with your messages, Tess.”

She stepped through the doorway without another word, and the trio on the bed sat in awkward silence.

Tess fiddled with her coffee mug. Ollie glowered at Harvey over Tess’s head. If Harvey was cowed at all by the other man, he didn’t show it in the glare he directed at him.

He was older. He probably had Tess by about ten years. Sometimes that wasn’t a problem, but at that age, a man would have a lot of baggage. The last thing Tess needed was extra baggage. She had enough of her own.

Tess cleared her throat. “What’s on the tray?”

Harvey pulled his stare away from Ollie and reached for the nightstand. “Oh, I figured you’d want something easy this morning after all the hubbub of last night.” He settled the tray over her thighs and lifted the cloth cover. “The chef nearly laughed me out of the kitchen when I asked for that.”

“Hot damn.” She handed her coffee mug to Ollie and reached for the little carafe of milk. She poured it over her Cocoa Puffs and grabbed the accompanying spoon. “And what’s in that omelet?”

“Everything you like, sweetheart. Three kinds of cheese, jalapeño peppers, tomato, and a bit of sausage.”

“What kind of sausage?”

“Hot, of course.”

The grin she gave him was more than enough payment for enduring Chef’s haranguing about the cereal. He’d had to run home and dip into his kids’ stash because Muriel didn’t eat the stuff. Harvey loved seeing that fucking smile and knew how rare it was.

He did that.

“You always did take care of me,” she said, and shoveled a spoonful of chocolate cereal into her mouth.

“Better than anyone.” He cut his gaze over to Ollie again, and as expected, the other man fixed a death glare on him.

“Knowing her belly isn’t the same thing as knowing her heart,” Ollie projected.

“Did you get that nugget of wisdom from the inside of a fortune cookie?”

“The gods have ordained this match. You’d save yourself a lot of energy and embarrassment by letting her go. But don’t worry.” Ollie twirled a length of Tess’s hair around his fingers. “Eventually, the heartache will dull and you’ll find focus in other things.”

“Thanks for the advice, but you’re mistaken if you believe I’m going anywhere.”

“If you want her to be happy, you would.”

“She was happy before you got here.”

“Oh?”

They let the topic drop, because a young staffer stood in the doorway and rapped on the frame. “Sorry to interrupt,” the girl said. Her eyes were wide as she studied the scene. It wasn’t as bad as it looked, but he wasn’t going to bother saying so. In fact, he preferred to test the staff and see whose loose lips needed dealing with. For as long as Harvey had known Muriel, she’d prided herself on her efficient and discreet senior staff. This girl was new, though. Why hadn’t Chef come up himself?

“I’ve got breakfast for Mr. Gilisson,” she said, and she shifted her weight from one pristine white sneaker to the other. Nervous. She couldn’t have been on the job very long.

“Come in, please,” Tess said. “What’s your name?”

“Erin, ma’am.” She bowed ever so slightly, careful not to drop the tray.

“Please stop doing that. If you ever see me sitting on a throne and twirling a scepter, bow all you want, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m not that kind of queen. I’m just a conduit.”

Erin shook her head so violently the contents of the mug on the tray splashed. “Oh, no, ma’am. You’re more than that. So much more.”

Tess put a hand on Harvey’s wrist, and he felt a surge up his arm and through his torso that felt like he’d touched an exposed live wire. He couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t move at all.

Briefly, the room around them disappeared along with Erin leaving nothing but a white void in all directions.

Then they were back.

Tess pulled her hand away and looked at him with terror, and obviously Ollie had saw and felt whatever it was, too, because he pulled his hand away from Tess and rubbed the palm as if it had been burned.

“Everybody’s so much more optimistic,” Erin said, oblivious to their distress. “At least the young folks are. We tend not to pair off when there’s too much stress on the network, and now that you’re here, it feels…” Erin rolled her gaze up to the ceiling and chewed on her bottom lip. “Just feels fresh.”

Tess tentatively returned her hand to Harvey’s wrist. When nothing unusual happened, she projected, “What the hell was that?”

“No idea. We’ll talk about it in a moment.”

“Right.” Tess waved Erin over.

Ollie grabbed the tray from her and eyed her warily.

Harvey couldn’t blame the guy.

“How long have you worked here, Erin?” Tess asked as the girl backed toward the door.

Erin giggled. “Oh, I don’t work here. Chef’s my dad. Kitchen was a bit of a mess because of the banquet last night, so I came to help him out. There are a lot of extra guests here right now, and I guess, you don’t really want to hire out to a temp agency or anything like that. They’d be too nosy.”

“How large is the staff?” Tess projected to Harvey.

“Full-time, oh, I’d say less than twenty in this building. Usually, it’s just right. You may need to increase it soon. I’ll look into it for you.”

“You spoil me.”

“Happy to try, sweetheart.” He looked over Tess’s head at Ollie once again. Ollie was still giving Erin a curious look. Was he catching something that Harvey wasn’t? He had no idea what those big apes out in Fallon were capable of. What he did know now, though, was that this particular big ape didn’t mean Tess any harm. He’d felt that when they were connected in that brief moment. He’d felt it, not heard it. The Afótama link didn’t work that way, so this…this was something else.

Erin took her leave and shut the door behind her.

“They’re really not pairing off?” Ollie asked quietly.

Tess shrugged. “That’s not one of the issues that has been brought to my attention, but it does seem that’s the case. Neither my brother nor Nadia have taken mates and they’re both past quarter-life. Why?”

“We’ve got a problem like that in Fallon. The same, but different.” He pulled the napkin off his hearty meal of bacon, eggs, fruit, and toast and reached for the fork. “Matches aren’t taking. The link’s not right or something. People are treating relationships far more casually than they used to. The reverence is gone.”

Harvey was going to make an acidulous retort about Ollie’s lack of reverence for his and Tess’s relationship, but he held his tongue. This was information they all needed, regardless of the reason they’d come together like this.

“I wonder if it’s all related,” Tess said.

“How could it be?” Harvey asked. “Up until you touched Ollie last night, the two groups had a tenuous association at best. There was no strong link between the two. Yeah, there are folks on the fringes of each group who openly associate, but it’s a weak tie.”

Tess scoffed and picked up her cereal spoon yet again. “Was a weak tie. They’re all in my head now, but I get a different kind of buzz from them than I do from Afótama.”

“You feel all of them?” Ollie asked, and the color seeped from his face. Why did that appall him? That particular skill of the queen should have been common knowledge.

“I think so,” Tess said. “But it’s hard to discern because unlike with our group, I don’t know how many there are. It feels…whole, though. The group. Like I’m getting all of it and not just bits and pieces. I’m not sure if it’s a two-way connection and if they can feel me too, or if I have a finger on their collective pulse without them knowing it.”

“Fuck,” Ollie whispered. He dragged a hand through his short hair and slumped against the headboard. “Something’s up. I shouldn’t be able to communicate telepathically with Mr. Lang since he’s a stranger, and yet I can. I thought it was because he was just wide open. A weak psychic. I don’t think it’s that, though.”

As if it were some sort of reflexive response, Tess, reached for him. She hugged his left arm and leaned her chin against his bicep. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby, you did everything right.” He brushed her hair back from her eyes in such a tender way that Harvey found hating him somewhat harder. Ollie meant it, this affection. He wasn’t just trying to win her for a prize because she was queen, but because he truly wanted her.

Just like Harvey.

“I just worry that if word about that gets out, there’ll be a lot of confusion for all of us. Some would believe it to mean that the gods have granted you sovereignty over us outcasts.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Harvey asked.

Ollie stared at him for a few moments, but there was no hostility in his gaze. Just open curiosity. Finally, he said, “With me as her consort? No, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. They’d accept it because she’s my true mate, and harming her—even in small ways—would disturb me as well. They would know she wouldn’t try to uproot or upend us. She’d keep things more or less the same. With you as her consort?” He picked up one his thick bacon strips and folded it in half. “Well, you probably wouldn’t survive the riots, pretty-boy.”

“Hear that, Tess?” Harvey said flatly. “Paul Bunyan said I’m pretty.”

“Know what?” Ollie cracked the knuckles of his right hand one by one. “I can easily fix that.”

11

“For fuck’s sake, quit it.” Tess scrambled over Ollie and crawled to the edge of the bed. She shook her head as she walked to the bathroom. “I swear, being around you two is like being in fifth grade around the little jerk kid who wouldn’t stop picking on some girl because he had a crush on her. Put a stopper in the testosterone leak, would you?”

When they didn’t respond, positively or otherwise, she turned and saw the two shooting death glares at each other from either side of the bed. They probably hadn’t even heard her, and she wasn’t going to concern herself with whatever they were mentally bandying. Her imagination didn’t have to be particularly spectacular to guess what they were saying to each other.

Sighing, she closed the door and reached for the shower knobs. What was she going to do with the two of them? Leaving them to work it out on their own would likely end with spilled blood, and depending on the winner, a political fallout. The last thing Tess needed was more skepticism from the splinter groups or a rift within the Afótama. Things had been running smoothly until she came along.

Wasn’t that her life, though? She had the magic touch when it came to fucking shit up.

She shucked off her nightshirt and stuck her arm beneath the shower spray to check the temperature.

The door behind her creaked open and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She grabbed one of the fluffy monogrammed towels from the rack and threw herself away from the opening.

“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s just me.” Harvey slipped into the steamy room and leaned his butt against the counter. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Tess put her hand to her chest and took a few deep breaths. When she could no longer hear her elevated pulse in her ears, she tightened the towel around her chest. “It’s all right. I forgot to lock it. Nadia doesn’t come in anymore when she hears the water, and I fell out of the habit.”

“I was sitting right outside, Tess. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “And I hate to admit it, but I doubt Paul Bunyan out there would, either.”

Good to know her gut feeling wasn’t completely bogus.

“It’s not a rational thing.” She pulled the shower curtain around her and dropped the towel to the floor before stepping over the tub side. “It’s just an ingrained response. If I go into a small space, I lock the door behind me. I can’t have someone walking in, or it triggers…” She stepped under the spray of water and let it drench her hair.

“Triggers what, Tess?”

Eyes closed, she patted the shelf for the familiar shape of her shampoo bottle. “I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

He was silent a while, and then Tess heard him shifting against the counter. “I won’t push you. I do wonder what happened to you, though. Don’t mistake my respect of your wishes for aloofness. You’ve never wanted to talk about those things that made you so squirrelly as a kid, and that scares me because my imagination runs wild and I think awful things. I don’t want to think those things happened to you and that you didn’t tell anyone.”

Oh, she’d told everyone she was supposed to tell. They just hadn’t done anything about it. “Don’t mess up a good thing,” they’d said. “Make this one stick,” they’d said.

Maybe one day she could lay it all bare for him, but right now, the wounds felt too fresh to rip open. Besides, she didn’t want him pitying her, even though she was long overdue for some. She needed someone to feel sorry for her so she could go ahead and fall apart. Maybe once she put herself back together, she’d be stronger than she was before. She certainly couldn’t do any worse. The “fake it till you make it” routine was exhausting.

She cleared her throat and tried to put a little sunshine into her voice. “Did you need something, darlin’?”

“I like it when you call me darlin’, but give me a minute to remember what it was, will you?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh as she lathered her hair. Goodbye to all that mouse and hairspray. There were probably a few bobby pins left in there, too. Detangling was going to be a motherfucker, and she didn’t even have time to do it. Maybe she’d do it on the plane. Queen’s prerogative.

“While it’s on my mind, you do know I’ve seen you naked, right?”

The draft against her wet backside warned her that he was seeing it again, whether she liked it or not. She squashed the compulsion to turn around and face him, because a view of her ass was a lesser evil than a full-frontal display.

“What you did see, you saw in the dark.” Her fingers caught on one of those missing pins and she flicked it onto the soap dish.

“You confuse me. You go from being this irresistibly bold siren, to this shy, overly conscious thing who obviously has a skewed perception of how she looks.”

“Are you suggesting I seek therapy?” She dipped her head under the water again and watched the shampoo suds flow down her body to the tub floor.

“Of course not. I don’t want any shrink, whether they be Afótama or outsider, knowing that much about you.”

Good thing, because she didn’t need therapy. She always knew the reasons for her reactions, even if she lacked the will to change anything. She’d been withdrawn with Harvey and more daring with Ollie because one knew her too well, and the other, she had nothing to lose with. Ollie knew very little about her, and he’d had only a first impression to judge her by. He didn’t know about all the baggage. Harvey knew too much. He could probably read her body like a history book if she let him get close enough. Both men were appealing, yet not, because of what they knew and didn’t know.

“Are you always going to hide from me?” His voice was a whisper now, and she wouldn’t even turn to look at him.

“I don’t want to. No.”

“Then that’s good enough for now. Listen, I came in here to see how you felt about both me and Ollie flying with you to Santa Fe. It seemed a ridiculous scenario to me, but Ollie insists that it’d make more sense if we both go. Right now, no one outside of this building knows anything about your consort selection. If both of us go, people won’t assume that it’s either of us. They know me to be your friend, and they’ll think that big fucker is your bodyguard. He says the fair thing would be for us to have equal access to you until…”

“Yes, until.” He didn’t need to say it. She patted behind her for the conditioner bottle, still not turning.

“Does that suit you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. Don’t misjudge my restraint, sweetheart. I’m a man with a sizable ego. I’d like nothing better than for you to put your foot down and tell him it ain’t happening because you’re with me.”

She sighed. “You know I can’t.”

“I do know. That’s why I’m trying to be civil. Usually, that’s easier for me.”

“Come now, you’re not really trying that hard,” came a deeper voice from just the other side of the doorway.

Now Tess did turn around. Growling, she swatted Harvey’s hand away from the curtain, and shouted, “Fuck, get out!”

“You heard her,” Harvey said.

“I’m talking to both of you. Unless you want to hit that light switch and turn on some music, that is. This bathroom isn’t really big enough for a full-bore orgy, but as long as one of you doesn’t move too much—”

The door closed.

Tess grinned and turned up the heat on the water. They were probably out there thumping their chests at the very insinuation they should be in a room together at the same time with their clothes off.

She didn’t realize her hands were inching closer and closer to her sex as she thought of them. Ollie had left her unfulfilled last night, and any opportunity they would have had for an erotic good-morning were dashed by Harvey and Nadia.

“Could have sworn we’d locked that door.” She threw her head back as she worked her fingers over her clit, her pussy clenching around nothing.

Fuck, with a good night’s sleep and last night’s stressful social torture put behind her, climbing onto that big hunk of man for a good morning ride would have been the perfect way to start the day. And she just knew he’d be so gentle…until she begged him not to be.

“Mmm.” She slipped two fingers between her folds and rocked on them as if they were her big Viking’s—

The pounding on the door made her yank her hand free and reach for the curtain. “Shit, is there a fire?” She stepped out, grabbed a towel from the rack, and unlocked the door.

Harvey pushed the door in. His tan skin bore an unusually red flush and his breath came out in shallow pants.

She knotted the towel at her breasts and pushed her soggy hair out of her eyes. “What happened? Did he try to kill you?”

Now she noticed Ollie in the doorway, too, and he looked equally aggrieved.

“Tell me!”

Ollie’s gaze trailed down her body and stopped in the general vicinity of her pussy. “When you…when you do what you must have been doing a minute ago, you transmit your arousal on broadband.”

“To just you two, or…”

Harvey groaned. “Probably, but does it matter? What the fuck were you just thinking about?”

Chagrined, she rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms. “A dick in each major orifice. I guess we’re short one.”

Harvey blanched, but Ollie, after a moment, laughed, and walked away adjusting himself.

Harvey spun her around, gave her a sharp swat to the bottom, and nudged her back toward the shower. “You deserve that and more. Rinse the conditioner out of your hair and quit torturing the peons, or queen or not, I’ll bend you over my knee.”

She wriggled her ass at him and grinned over her shoulder. “You promise?”

The glint in his eye before he reversed over the threshold said, Yes, I most certainly do.

She closed the door and locked it case he decided to come back, then rubbed her thighs together hoping to distract from her sex’s continued emptiness. “They’re going to drive me insane.”

She stepped back into the shower and immediately yelped. The fucking water had gone cold. “Somehow, this is all their fault,” she muttered and quickly rinsed her hair.

Delicate laughter floated into the room, and Tess forced her stinging eyes open and pulled the curtain back.

No one was there.

She turned off the water and poked her head out slowly, scanning the room for unaccounted-for air vents. Maybe there was some ductwork that tread into staff workspace downstairs, not that she liked that idea at all, because if she could hear them, they could hear her.

“No, no, look inward, not around,” came the voice.

It was in her head, but not. When Afótama communicated telepathically, their words boomed in her head the same as if they were speaking with their voices. But this voice was sort of half in, and half out of her head. It was sort of a whisper that wasn’t spoken beside her ear, but just inside it.

“We should speak more often so you know my voice.”

Relief freed the tight band around Tess's lungs, and she sucked in a calming breath. She wrapped a towel around her body and sat on the open toilet seat. “Ótama. I thought you couldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“Close your eyes. Come to me. I can not come to you.”

“Where are you?”

“On the ship, silly. Where else would I be?”

“Of course.” Tess closed her eyes, felt around in her head for a few seconds, then gave it up. “I’m not exactly sure how I should come to you.”

“You are connected to all Afótama queens going back to me. Can you feel it?”

“I don’t know what I feel. I feel…so much of everything. It’s because of Ollie, I think.”

“Yes, because of Oliver. Speak quietly or your men will pound down the door. That will not do.”

Nope, it wouldn’t. They probably thought she had enough missing marbles as it was, and they were being kind enough to hide that condition from the world. If it weren’t for her previous twenty-eight years of life experience, she’d say she was a lucky girl in having the two of them.

“Just imagine our network as a mighty web in which each silk is a ladder rung you may climb on. Climb back from one queen to the next until you find me.”

“You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“It is that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“Try anyway. What you construct in your mind in your realm becomes real in mine. Our mental playgrounds merge. Hurry. We are short on time.”

Tess drew in a deep breath to center herself. There was no harm in trying, silly as it sounded. She didn’t really know what she was capable of. Hadn’t Ótama said that each queen’s gifts were different? Tess still didn’t know what hers were.

She closed her eyes and imagined a giant web. In her mind, it was made of rope and stretched up as far as the eye could see at a forty-five degree incline. She grasped tentatively at a section at eye-level and found it shockingly solid. It was real in this place, and she’d constructed it. Planting her foot into a lower rung, she began climbing.

She climbed aimlessly as there seemed to be no end in sight, and risked a look down. Instead of the bathroom she’d left her physical form in, there was a frightening void. Pitch-black nothingness.

“What kind of unholy shit…”

Ótama’s laughter filled her head again. “Look up, not down. The way back will be easy to discern when you are ready to seek it. You are not trapped in here the way I am.”

Tess pulled her gaze from the swirling darkness at her feet, and looked toward the heavens, and thankfully, there she was. Ótama leaned over the side of her longship and extended a hand to Tess.

“Come on up.”

Tess grabbed it and climbed up into the boat, panting more from stress than from exertion.

“What just happened?” Maybe there once really had been a kid named Jack who climbed a giant beanstalk…in his head. Trippy psychic shit would explain the appalling fuckery of most medieval fairy tales. Comatose princesses being kissed awake by princes, ladies using their long hair as rope ladders…the list went on and on. If it had all been in some psychic’s head, then anything was possible.

Ótama clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, I could not have predicted it, but this is perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Tess wiped some seawater off the wood floor beside Ótama and sat.

“Harvey and Oliver. Individually, they are certainly impressive. You would be a proud queen for sure with either, but together—oh, you would be unstoppable.”

Tess stared slack-jawed at her ancestress. She’d be lying if she’d said she hadn’t given that any thought. She just had, in fact—right there in the shower.

“I told you I get only limited glimpses of what my descendants are doing, but this was a special time since your grandmother gave up her title last night. The gods afforded me a wider lens.”

“Just how much did you see?” Could she blush in this place? Implied sexuality was one thing, but giving a folks a front-row seat of the action? Hell nope.

Ótama flicked a dismissive hand. “Your era is full of concerning ideology about sex.”

“And yours wasn’t? I missed a lot of school as a kid, but to the best of my recollection, you guys were more or less monogamous.”

Ótama nodded, but the implicit “whatever you say, dear” was unmistakable.

Tess didn’t know how to respond.

“To be the most liberal of all of our queens to date, you certainly do not react the way I expect.”

“That liberalness has gotten me in a lot of trouble. I’m trying to clean up my act. I didn’t really have a warm-up period for this gig, you know, so I’ve had to quit a lot of bad habits cold turkey. Tell me how I should respond, and I’ll try to give you that the next time.”

Ótama canted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Who said you needed to clean up your act?”

“No one. I assumed it had to be done—that people would expect me to be upright and decent. I mean, I was overdue for the whole growing-up thing, anyway. I couldn’t be a delinquent all my life. Might as well make something of myself.”

“Do not minimize your past thinking that doing so will pave the way for your future, Contessa. Your unique experiences are what shape your gifts. Do you know how Vikings got their names? They were based on something distinguishing about them. Erik the Red had red hair and a red beard. He also had a terrible temper, which most redheads are maligned for. Just ask your grandmother.” She chuckled. “His son, who gets credit for discovering your world,” she rolled her eyes—an action that was all Muriel, “was Leif Erikson, son of Erik, obviously, but also Leif the Lucky. If you strive to be the queen who toes the line, you will be the queen not worth remembering. Be bold, Contessa, and see what name history will record for you.”

Tess’s chest puffed up at the challenge. When she was dead and gone, she wanted her legacy to be of the relatable queen that had been badly broken, but went on to do remarkable things. She didn’t have to be perfect to do her job.

“That is not why I summoned you here, as you know. I ask that you give serious thought to keeping both men.”

“You assume I would have a problem with it.”

“Do you not? Have you forgotten that I am the progenitor of your gifts and that I can glean your thoughts?”

Burn. Tess put up her hands. “I think this time, you’re misreading me. Hell, it would take two men to put up with all my bullshit, and let’s be frank; they’re both winners of the genetic lottery. I’m vain enough to admit it. The problems with the arrangement, however, are that, first, neither of them seems interested in sharing. Second, most Afótama are far more conservative than I am, and probably won’t feel comfortable with me having two dudes. Third, society. Having two husbands is illegal in all fifty states, and probably Puerto Rico and American Samoa, too.”

Ótama shrugged. “Is your government’s idea of marriage the same as yours?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Then keep the government out of your business.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Are you a cowering queen or a bold one?”

“Touché, granny.”

Ótama gave Tess’s arm a playful pinch. “If you want them both, you will figure out a way to keep them. It has been a very long time since our warriors have been called home. You need them as much as they need you. Oliver and all the other outliers—you need them to balance the group. You are not meant to evolve separately, but beside each other.”

“They don’t want to come back. Ollie is the black sheep. He only wants me because he thinks the match was ordained.”

“Of course it was.” Ótama reached out and cupped Tess’s chin in her hand. Her smile was curious. “Your father, may he rest in peace, made sure of it. When you get the chance, take a close look at your family tree. Your grandmother is selectively tight-lipped about her daughter’s husband, and that was by his request.”

“Are you saying my father was…”

“An axe-swinging orangutan like Oliver.” Her gaze softened and she let her hands fall to her lap. “But, he was an orphan taken in by the Afótama when no one else could take him. He was never linked up with his group, but he followed them from afar. He knew what he was meant to be. It was too bad your mother never had her turn as queen. It might have been your parents joining the two groups instead of you.”

“Is that why they’re dead?”

Ótama twined her fingers atop her swollen belly and crossed her legs. She let her knee bob for a while and stared out at the ocean.

“You can’t tell me that, can you?”

Ótama’s knee bobbed faster.

“You literally can’t, huh? Okay.” She leaned over and gave the ghost a kiss on the forehead. Tossing one leg over the side of the longship, she added, “Don’t fret about it. It’ll just be one more thing for me to unravel. No one said being the Afótama queen was an easy job.”

“Visit when you can. I believe you will provide me with many hours of entertainment. Remember, I am not granted full vision of what happens on Earth.”

“I wish one of us was.” Maybe if Tess did have a wider scope, she could see if having two permanent lovers was worth the risks. She cared for both of them and knew she could never choose between them. She was drawn to Ollie because the part of her that was warrior recognized him as a kindred spirit. That’s why she knew he didn’t fight without a purpose, and more often than not, that purpose was to protect his family. Harvey pulled her in a different type of way. She was drawn to his logic and wisdom. She envied his confidence, but was content to bask in the shadow of his. He was a natural leader who people respected and looked up to. She’d respected and looked up to him, and even more since she’d become his queen. He’d been humble about it. He wasn’t jealous of her station. He was proud that it was hers. No one had been in her corner as long as him, and she was thankful to have him as her lover.

Who could choose between them? She sure as shit wasn’t going to, and they’d have to get the fuck over it. But as she climbed down the web toward the void, fear and dread pulled at her gut.

What if she tried to keep both only to end up with neither?

12

“You know, I was joking when I asked if you had a gun handy to make the bodyguard cover seem believable.” Harvey tented his fingers and stared across the conference table and over Tess’s head at Ollie.

Ollie stood behind her with one hand grazing her neck and the other stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. His loaded firearm was tucked into the back of his waistband. The safety was on, he’d said. Harvey had to take his word for it, and wasn’t entirely comfortable with the weapon in his presence. He and Ollie weren’t cool with each other by any stretch of the imagination. He didn’t think the big man would shoot to kill, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be eager to annoy Harvey a bit. Maybe he’d aerate his shoulder, or one of his feet, just for shits and giggles.

Tess hadn’t paid much attention to either of them since they’d landed in Santa Fe. She’d been reflective during the drive to Albuquerque, and he didn’t dare disturb her. He caught flitting bits and pieces of her thoughts, and they were disjointed. Scattered. Whatever she was reflecting on took up all of her attention. He didn’t know what being queen was like and being that conduit for all the Afótama. It couldn’t have been easy, so he granted her some space.

Ollie grunted. “I would have brought the gun, anyway. At close range, though, I prefer bladed weapons. They’re quieter.”

Nadia, sitting at the end of the conference table scrolling through messages on her phone screen, whistled low. “Gangsta. I like it.”

Ollie cut his gaze over to her. “Oh, yeah? I know just the guy for you, then.”

Her red eyebrows bobbed up.

Harvey didn’t think he was kidding, and he really didn’t like the idea of Ollie and his band of geriatric marauders muddying the Afótama gene pool. Those men were probably four feet tall at birth and fell out of the womb gripping the hilts of their weapons.

“Tell me you don’t have a sword strapped under your shirt, too,” Harvey said, deadpan.

Ollie shook his head, and there wasn’t a bit of humor to be found in his pinched expression. “I can’t carry my sword on my motorcycle without a larger bag than I’m willing to strap on. Not exactly something you want to get found in your possession if you get pulled over, either. Don’t worry, though. I’ll have all my weapons shipped out here. Your queen will be perfectly safe.”

“I know she will be. I plan on ensuring that personally.”

The grin that spread across Ollie’s face was wicked. “It’s good to know Muriel has someone on staff to oversee security. I hope I don’t make your job obsolete.”

“You seem to be operating under the mistaken premise that with Tess being here, I won’t pick a fight.”

“The only mistake is you thinking you’ll win if there is a fight.”

“Rein it in now, boys,” Tess said quietly. Her forehead furrowed and she looked down at her hands. “Whoever it is meeting us here is coming down the hall now. I feel her.”

Harvey didn’t want to think about how Tess had acquired the ability to feel, rather than to just hear, nearby Afótama. He suspected the man at her back had something to do with it, but for all he knew, it was a talent she was meant to have all along. Muriel didn’t have it, or at least she claimed, so besides Ollie, Tess had no one to seek counsel about it.

Get your fill, Tess. He won’t be around for long.

There was a gentle rap on the conference room door, and Nadia sprang to her feet. Ollie, with his long stride, beat her to the door and put a finger to his lips.

He turned at Tess, who looked up.

“How many?” he mouthed.

“I feel one and hear one. Same person, but that’s one Afótama. There could be people out there I can’t detect,” she whispered.

The person knocked again. “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice—thin and tentative.

“Are you getting any thoughts off her that are concerning? I feel more than I hear, and all I feel is nervousness from her.” He didn’t just look at Tess, but all of them, and Harvey respected him a little more for it. When it came to Tess’s safety, he wasn’t going to be cavalier, even with his pride on the line.

“Ollie, open the door,” Tess said. “She’s worried about her kids. She left them in the car.”

Ollie open the door a sliver, and looked out in the hotel hallway. Then he opened it wider, and a short woman wearing ripped jeans and a faded hoodie sweater stepped in.

Her nervous gaze was on everything and nothing. She looked at nothing in particular until during one of her disorganized sweeps, she saw Tess.

She dropped to her knees and covered her head with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me, even if I deserve it. I didn’t know any better back then. I swear, I stayed away so they wouldn’t find out anything else. So they wouldn’t ask me anything else.”

Tess’s gaze locked on Harvey’s. Her eyes were wide and the blood had drained from her face. “Help me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“She believes she’s to blame for us getting taken. I—I’m not certain what to ask…or how I should react.”

Should? If what Tess was saying was true, she should be pounding her fists against the tabletop, and screaming at the woman. She should be calling the security they had on standby in a room down the hall and telling them to apprehend the woman so she could be taken back to the compound and properly interrogated.

But, she had to do better than should, because everything the queen did made a ripple in the web. Making waves when a ripple would do would be a mistake. She didn’t want to earn a reputation for using excessive force. Those kinds of perceptions were hard to shake off. He’d learned that mistake the hard way from working his way up in a cutthroat industry and in an even more cutthroat economy. He’d earned the nickname “Hard Harvey” for being aggressive and pushing his teams to the brink. Most people couldn’t hack it. Some, however, sought him out. They wanted to work under him because they’d learn more and do their jobs better. Over time, he’d learned to temper his passions and expectations with forgiveness. Not everyone was made to achieve in the same way. Not everyone had something to prove.

Like him.

“With kindness,” he said finally.

She mouthed it back, and turned her chair toward the woman on the floor. “Mr. Gilisson, would you please close the door?”

He shut it, and put his back against it. No one was coming in, and no one was going out unless it was through him. Harvey sure as shit didn’t want to be the dumb-ass trying to get through him. If he ever did insist on a challenge, Harvey would have to use every defense he had to take the man down. Some of those, he’d hesitate to use on his worst enemy and he wasn’t certain Ollie was that. He was a nice enough guy. They might even have been friends under different circumstances.

“What’s your name?” Tess asked.

The woman’s response was a low mumble against the floor.

“Fiona? Is that it? Look at me, not the carpet. No one here is going to hurt you.”

She lifted her head slowly and looked up, but her gaze seemed to miss Tess by a couple of feet. She was like a stray cat that had come to this place because she knew there’d be nourishment if she behaved herself, but had become so used to running away that she perceived everything as a threat.

“Tell me what you did.” Tess leaned her forearms onto her thighs so she was closer to Fiona’s level. Her voice was gentle, not accusatory, and knowing Tess as he did, he knew it wasn’t an act. She didn’t have to try hard to be kind. Kindness was easy for her. Being hard when she needed to be, though, was difficult. It had taken her all her life to shore up her backbone. It’d always been easier for her to run than to fight back.

He wanted for her to never have to fight again. He’d fight for her—be the bad cop to her good one, when she needed one.

“Please, I’ve got two kids and I’m a single mom. I get if you’re upset with me, but make sure they’re okay, will you? Their names are Annie and Ricky, and if you tell them the secret codeword, they’ll go with you. Just tell them—”

“I don’t need to know it,” Tess said. “We don’t need any more Afótama orphans, do we?”

Fiona gave her head a violent shake. “No.”

“Good, so tell me why you called us up here. What did you do that’s so unforgivable that you couldn’t go home and tell us there?”

“She’s on some kind of anti-psychotic drug,” Nadia projected. Harvey couldn’t tell if the message was a special delivery meant just for him or if Tess and Ollie were getting it, too, because they didn’t react. Maybe that was purposeful, though. Fiona would have guessed they were having a private discussion if they all turned to look at the same person at once.

“How can you tell?” Harvey asked.

“I’ve seen this before. They’re not compatible with our physiology. Makes the psychic shit erratic. The couple of people I knew who got prescribed them ended up getting institutionalized. She’s probably not a danger to her kids, but all the same, she shouldn’t be on her own with them.”

“I hear you,” Tess said. “That’s all I can say on that for now. I’ve got too much information streaming through me. The web is abuzz right now and it’s really loud inside my head.”

Ollie started toward her, but she gave her head the minutest shake, it was a wonder he saw it.

“When I was little, around Annie’s age,” Fiona said, “me and my mom went to visit some friends in Virginia and Mom took me to the park. It’d been raining so much we couldn’t get outside, so when it finally stopped raining, I was sure glad to get out there. I’d been eyeing that park for weeks. It had this big, long slide that spiraled down like—”

“Fiona,” Harvey interrupted. “The queen has a lot of demands on her time. Can you tell her the most important part of the story?”

“Thank you, blunt knight of mine.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Fiona straightened up and scanned the room once again, this time with clearer eyes. She gasped and clutched her chest. “You ain’t got a consort. The queen’s not mated? Where’s your mate? You’re supposed to have a mate.” She crawled over to Tess and grabbed her ankles. “If you don’t have a mate, they’ll get to you and squeeze you dry for all the information. Everything, they’ll take everything.”

Fuck. Harvey pushed his hands onto his armrests, preparing to stand, but Tess gave him a mental push back. Wait, she seemed to be saying.

“It’s sweet of you to worry about me, Fiona,” Tess said, “but I’m worried about you, and Annie and Ricky, too, of course. Tell me what happened at the park so we can get you home and taken care of.”

Fiona’s red-rimmed eyes went comically wide. “Take care of us?” she whispered. “Is that mobster talk for taking us out back and shooting us?”

The corners of Tess’s mouth twitched, but somehow, she managed to tamp down the laugh. Fiona would have been a hoot to be around if she wasn’t so ill. She shouldn’t have been on her own. Afótama took care of each other. Rarely was a person so unredeemable that the web tossed them out.

“No,” Tess said. “It means we’d find you someplace to live and a job to do. We’d make sure Annie and Ricky were enrolled in school. We’d make sure they wouldn’t have anything to be scared of, and that you wouldn’t have to run anymore. You’ve been running a long time, haven’t you? I know what that’s like.” Tess’s eyes shone with unspilled tears that everyone in the room except Fiona seemed affected by.

Nadia had turned away to face the blank wall behind her. Ollie was stone faced, but his hands twitched at his sides in a manner Harvey knew all too well. He wanted to touch Tess—hold her—but couldn’t risk it.

She rarely cried as a kid, and when he’d asked her why, she’d said because she’d given up hope that things would get better. She had less disappointment that way. Now when she cried, the rending of his heart felt so much more complete and the pain lingered longer. He hated that there were things he couldn’t fix for her, and nothing would ever be easy.

Sometimes, he even hated himself for bringing her home. She’d been struggling on her own, but more so now.

Fiona nodded. “I’d sure like someplace to go. I bet the kids would, too. They’re only half-breeds, though. You still want them?”

Tess put her hands over her eyes and let out a long sigh. “They’re yours, so of course I do. Please, Fiona.” Her voice was thick and pleading. Tired. “Please tell me what happened at the park.”

“There was a man there that day, and I must have said something he thought was interesting. Some throwaway thing about telepathy. I think I might have said something about my mother talking inside my head.” Fiona’s forehead furrowed and her voice was slow and steady. It was if it’d settled in that this thing was important and she’d found a moment of clarity to relay it. “He asked me a lot of questions I thought were silly at the time. It was like the same thing over and over again asked in different ways. And he asked what it was like where I lived and what kind of religion we believed in. He asked…who was in charge.”

Tess drew in a deep breath and peeled her hands away from her eyes. “And you told him those things?”

“I was bad. I should have known better.”

“You were little.”

“Yes. I was real little. Maybe four.”

“Fuck.” That whispered expletive came from Nadia, who still had her back turned. She put her phone to her ear. “Stand by. I need you to do me a favor,” she said into it.

“You think it was your fault that we—that some of the Afótama children—were abducted?” Harvey asked. Even if she’d inadvertently tipped someone off, how could she have known it was a person that wasn’t safe for her to talk to? She’d come out of Norseton where everyone knew everyone. There were no outsiders. Her mother hadn’t thought to prepare her for the possibility that someone would find her unusual and probe her about things that she didn’t know were meant to be secrets.

“They started disappearing one at a time about six months after that. I didn’t think about it until I was around fourteen, and then it hit me it was my fault. I ran away so nobody would find out.”

“Your mother must think you’re one of the missing ones.”

Fiona nodded, and that frantic look returned to her eyes.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. We’ll all forgive you,” Tess whispered, and she fell to her knees and pulled Fiona in for a hug.

Fiona’s thin body shook in Tess’s grasp, and her face contorted with her soundless cry before she started sobbing.

Tess rocked her. Shushed her. “You’re forgivable, Fiona. You were a little girl and you didn’t know any better. It’s okay to go home to your mom. I’ll make everything okay for you.”

Of course she would, because that was Tess. It didn’t matter that she was in such heartbreaking turmoil herself, because there was someone who needed fixing. Tess had always been the kind of person who’d put her own grief aside and take care of the person who could be helped. That was one reason she got in so much trouble as a kid.

“Where are the kids, hon?” Nadia asked.

Fiona dragged her dirty sleeve beneath her running nose and sniffled. “I parked in the McDonald’s lot and told them if I didn’t come back to call my social worker and say to come get them.”

Nadia murmured something into her phone, and then inclined her head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get them. We’ll put you up in one of our rooms tonight, and you can fly back to Norseton with us in the morning.”

“Will you let my mom know I’m coming?”

Nadia nodded. “Yeah, if she were my mom, she’d want to know. Come on.” She grabbed Fiona’s hand and pulled her to her feet.

Ollie got out of the way of the door, and the two women walked through it. He closed the door behind them, and Harvey hurried around the table and dropped to his knees at Tess’s side.

“Come here.” He pulled her in close and held her the same way she’d held Fiona, but he brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her temples, whispering against them, “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s not her fault,” she said. “She was just a little kid who talked too much, and some asshole took advantage of that to hurt us. Why?”

Ollie knelt down next to her and wrapped his hand around one of her shaking ones.

Harvey could have pulled her away so he could prove once and for all that he was perfectly capable of being her sole provider of comfort, but she’d just had her world rocked in a way he couldn’t even begin to understand. She was queen, so she knew so much that was off-limits to him and she felt things so keenly. Maybe she felt everyone’s pain from back then—when each of those children was taken, one by one.

Her grandmother had heard the distress in the web when it’d happened, but now Tess was processing the archives and putting a why to the who and when.

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Ollie said. “That’s why Ótama and all the people on that boat left Iceland, and why our ancestors kept heading west. Fear is an irrational thing, baby.” He stroked the side of her face, barely skimming Harvey’s fingertips in the process.

Harvey closed his eyes and tried to keep his thoughts pure and calm.

She needed comfort and strength, not jealousy.

If she could give her all to someone else even when she was in so much pain, he would do the same.

He loved her so much that he at least had to try.

13

Although Tess had planned on broaching the ménage topic with the men, she’d wanted it to be on her own time…and certainly, not yet. Unfortunately, circumstances had corralled the three of them into a single hotel room.

They’d booked three rooms for the trip. Tess and Nadia were meant to share one, and each of the men would share with the security team members who’d traveled with them. With Fiona and her kids in one of the rooms, that left two rooms to divide between six people—four of whom were male.

Nadia had thrown up her hands, and said, “Look, you supervise your guys. I’ll bunk in Fiona’s room on the pullout sofa. Security can keep the room they were assigned.”

That had been all well and good until they actually entered the room and found there was only one bed. It was all the hotel had left, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it was just Tess and Nadia. Nadia slept in Tess’s bed on occasion because Nadia, like most Afótama, was a toucher. Touching made her calmer, which everyone in her company appreciated greatly, so Tess obliged her.

But, never in her life had Tess had to share a single bed with two men whose feet would likely dangle off the end.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ollie said as they crossed the threshold. “That’s a full.”

Tess laughed and rubbed her tired eyes. “No, I think it’s a queen, which is still way too small if either of you plan on sleeping on it.”

Harvey sighed. “Should we flip a coin? Loser gets the floor.”

She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “Maybe both of you should take the floor. That would be the fair thing.”

Ollie grunted and pulled open the closed door. He plucked the two spare pillows off the shelf along with the blankets, and tossed one of each to Harvey. “I’ve slept on worse. At least the floor is carpeted. Compared to the cot assigned to me at basic training, it’d be downright plush.”

She hadn’t really planned on making them sleep on the floor, but if it cut down on the discord, she’d go along with it. She was tired, and after having Fiona’s kids paw her for the better part of an hour during dinner, she needed a bit of space to decompress. She was getting used to being touched and wanting to touch, but on some days, it was draining.

After a quick shower, she pulled on her nightshirt and dove under the covers. Shirtless Harvey leaned against the right nightstand as he toyed with his phone. How he found time to work out, she didn’t know, but he had to be getting some exercise in. His chest was all hard planes and delightful angles. His shoulders were broad, and waist tapered to form perfect little dips for her to clamp her thighs against…or for her to rest her hands while she aided his thrusts in and out of her mouth.

Her gaze lingered on the downy, dark blond trail between his navel and waistband.

“You look like you want dessert,” he said.

More like the whole buffet, but a sandwich would do. She could be the middle.

He put down his phone and chuckled as he reached for the lamp switch. That was one of her men in an improved mood. Mission half accomplished. She rolled to the left edge of the bed and looked down at the other man.

Ollie reclined with two pillows beneath his head, one of which he must have nabbed from the bed, and chuckled at the television he’d turned down low.

She reached down and swatted his ear. “I think that’s my pillow.”

“Three isn’t enough for you?”

“If we’re going to be fair, the equitable thing would be everyone having two,” Harvey said from his little enclave.

Tess clucked her tongue. “You’re preaching communism to a pseudo-monarch? How dare you? If I were any less benevolent, I’d have six pillows, and you two would be shit out of luck.”

“My apologies for offending you, oh queenly one.”

“That’s more like it, peon.”

“Happy to be your peon, but really, about that second pillow…”

She groaned and tossed it down at him, being fairly sure it hit him square in the face when it landed given his oomph! of displeasure.

“All better?”

“Cold down here. I’m right under the vent. Got an extra blanket?”

“Sorry. Maybe you can go across the hall and ask Rambo and G.I. Joe if they’ve got any.”

“So they can call me a punk to my face? No, thanks.”

“Why would they do that?” Tess asked. “I have it on good authority that the queen can hire her own staff. They should all be minding their P’s and Q’s if they want to keep their jobs.”

“Until you pick a consort, most unattached Afótama men will probably be more concerned with getting into your pants than with their job security.”

Tess pushed herself upright and slapped the lamp switch. Harvey pulled one of the pillows over his face and groaned.

“No one’s trying to get into my pants,” she said.

“Sure they are,” Ollie mumbled.

“You know something I don’t know? If so, please spill the deets. I’ve been pretty sheltered the past few weeks, and the only men I’ve had regular interaction with have been my brother, my uncle, Chef, and those two security bozos.”

“The security bozos are problem enough,” Ollie said. “They may seem to be on high alert when you’re around, but I’ve gotten close enough to them today that I can state without a doubt that if either of them had two minutes alone with you, they’d make a play.”

“I’ve never been left alone with anyone outside the family, except for you two.”

“Exactly,” Harvey said.

“You’re responsible for that?” She reached down and grabbed the corner of the pillow covering his face.

He sighed when she yanked.

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to put a leash on me?”

“No, I’m protecting my interests.”

Ollie whistled low. “Bad choice of words, bro.”

Tess settled onto her forearms and glared down at Harvey.

He didn’t look away. In fact, he raised one eyebrow and turned his hands over in a So? gesture.

“Seriously?”

“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re waiting for. We’ve been half-bound since we were kids. Obviously, I’m motivated to win the rest of you. Not like I can move on.”

“What?” That was news to Tess.

“It’s the same with the folks in our group,” Ollie said. “Just with the men, though. I don’t know why that is. It used to be everyone.”

Tess rolled to the other side of the bed yet again. “You mean, once you attach yourself to someone, you can’t…break up?”

“You can’t entirely, no. You can try to hook up, but that new person will just be a warm body. You won’t want anyone else. It’s not a temporary thing.”

“So, you can’t get turned on by another woman if you’re fully bound?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not the woman you’re with is the one you were supposed to have been with in the first place. Sometimes we settle for good enough, and then we can’t extricate ourselves when the perfect one comes along. Your body is always going to respond to perfect, whether you’ve already got a mate or not.”

Tess flopped back onto her pillows. “This is some seriously hardcore shit. You guys make having a perfect mate sound like commitment on steroids. I never even thought I’d get married.”

“And yet here you are,” Harvey said, voice sharp. “Hot commodity. They all think you’re picky and that the right one just hasn’t crossed your path yet. They’re going to get more aggressive. They’re going to spring forth from the woodwork making grand gestures, claiming themselves to be your ordained match, Tess. Those are the magic words, right?”

“Are you throwing shade at me, motherfucker? Really?” Ollie asked.

“If the shoe fits…”

She settled farther beneath the blankets and pulled a pillow over her face. “For fuck’s sake.” She needed to get her head out of the real world. They weren’t going resolve this like reasonable people, because they were Vikings. Being passive wasn’t in their constitutions, so they were going to butt heads. If they didn’t, then neither was aggressive enough to be her consort.

She’d let them have their pissing contest, but the two men still needed to find common ground. They didn’t need to like each other, but they needed to tolerate each other at the very least or there’d be bloodshed every time Tess wanted to make love with them.

With Ollie on the floor, Tess was on her own to silence the voices in her head.

There was buzz on the web because Fiona was going home. People were concerned about the queen, wondering how she really felt about the discovery. Tess had tried keeping her thoughts neutral on the subject, but was finding it difficult because there was so much emotion involved—and not just hers, but everyone affected by the abductions. Her grandmother had done the psychic equivalent of hanging a curtain between Tess and the rest of the Afótama. Basically, she was using her superior psychic control as a shield to protect Tess for the time being. It was a temporary thing and would fall off as soon as Nan went to bed. The clock said that would be any minute.

If Tess wanted rest tonight, she’d have to entreat her potential consort for help. She nudged her pillow away and rolled onto her belly. The room was dark, but her fingers found what her eyes couldn’t. She traced along Ollie’s chiseled jaw, and let her anxiety escape on an exhale as the voices quieted.

Ollie grasped her hand and laced his fingers through hers.

“You’re going to get numb sleeping in that position,” he projected.

“Halfway there already. I can’t feel my breast.”

“I could remedy that.”

“Kind of you. Do you always go around fixing things, or am I a special case?”

“I repair motorcycles for a living, so yes, I do go around fixing things all the time.” He chuckled. “Jeff has this piece of shit motorcycle he should have sold for scrap twenty years ago.”

“Maybe he’s attached to it.”

“Baby, he treats that bike almost as good as I treat my kids.”

Tess dropped his hand and turned on the lamp. “What did you say?”

“Who are you talking to?” Harvey asked.

Ollie sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “I said—”

“No, I heard you,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure I heard you.” Did he say kids?

“I said kids, baby.”

“Kids?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What did I just miss?” Harvey asked.

“You have kids?” Tess wanted to make sure she was really, truly understanding him. Maybe he meant kids as in baby goats. He didn’t seem like the farming type, but she’d certainly misjudged people before.

“Two sons. Matt’s nearly eighteen. Lyman is twelve.”

Harvey scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“How so?” Ollie’s tone was even, and Tess didn’t feel any shame or anxiousness from him. Apparently, he didn’t feel the circumstance was an automatic deal-breaker.

Did she?

“Think about it,” Harvey said. “How do you think Tess is going to feel about having a stepson who’s only ten years younger than her?”

“Why don’t you ask Tess? If she’s bothered about it, I think I would feel it. I’m not feeling that from her.”

Harvey sat up and leaned his forearms against the bed’s edge. “I can’t do the feelings thing, sweetheart, so fill me in, please.”

“I…”

Harvey’s narrowed green gaze dared her to lie to him.

Her impulse was to touch him—to press her hands to his cheeks and her forehead to his. To kiss away his doubts. That was the Afótama part of her wanting to use touch to soothe, but she sat on her hands.

She had to find a balance between the two men so she didn’t bruise one while placating the other. Why couldn’t something about being queen be easy? “I’m not angry,” she said. “I guess…I’m more surprised than anything else. I hadn’t pictured Ollie as a dad, but I guess…it fits.”

Harvey drummed his fingers on the bed’s edge, saying nothing.

He was an arguer by nature, and their childhood exploits had taught her that when he was quiet, he was plotting. She didn’t want Ollie on the receiving end of one of Harvey’s plots. The last time he’d gone quiet like this was two years ago. They’d drifted apart because of a disagreement over Tess’s stalking, MMA-fighting ex. She said she was fine, and that she could take care of herself. Harvey hadn’t agreed.

Tess didn’t know what he’d done, but she’d received a five-page apology letter from her ex in the mail along with some of her important documents he’d been holding hostage. She never heard from him again. She’d confronted Harvey about it. They’d argued. She’d told him to mind his business, and that she never wanted to see him again.

Now, she knew he couldn’t help it. She’d always been his.

Touch him, stupid. She reached over and stroked his cheek.

The tension in his shoulders fell away and the tight set of his jaw relaxed. He sighed, and kissed the back of her hand. “I’m guessing their mother is out of the picture.”

“Their mother is dead. My aunt is keeping an eye on them. She’s been a big help to me.”

Tess eased down and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Two nearly-grown kids and a dead wife. I guess I don’t hold the monopoly on emotional baggage.”

“We all have some, baby.”

The kids—that she could digest. He was nearly forty. Of course a catch like him would have had a mate and a couple of kids.

Damn. She’d be competition against a dead woman for his love for the rest of his life.

“You’re sad all of a sudden. Why?” Ollie said. “Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can.”

“I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t willing to try.”

“Goddamn it,” Harvey muttered.

Tess scooted to the other edge. “What?”

“This contest becomes increasingly more imbalanced when he can both hear and feel you, and I only catch bits and pieces of your thoughts.”

“I suspect that if I told you how I was feeling all the time, you’d get bored with it pretty fucking quickly. Besides, you’ve never had any problems discerning how I feel. You always seem to know.”

“That’s only because I’ve known you for so long that I’ve got you pegged. I make educated guesses based on past behaviors. It’s hardly the same thing.”

“Maybe it’s better,” Ollie said.

“How so?”

“I feel like the playing field has been leveled for me. I get to step a few feet closer to the pitcher’s mound or a dozen yards closer to the hole on the golf course. Yeah, feeling her as I do gets me up to speed quickly, but you’ve had the incredible luxury of knowing her longer. You go way back to before either of you knew what you were. That’s a very intimate thing.”

“Okay. I’m not tiptoeing anymore tonight, guys.” Tess felt like her temples had become drumheads and the voices of the wakeful Afótama were beating rhythmless beats against them. She settled under the blankets yet again and squeezed her eyes shut. “Ollie, I need to touch you. I can spare you a sliver of bed.”

The mattress gave a whine of stress as he sat, and Tess’s body rolled toward him automatically due to the temporary incline of the bed.

“Got enough room?” she asked.

“Only if you’re sleeping on top of me. My bed at home is a California King”

“If I were on top of you, there’d be no sleeping. Trust me on that.”

The other side of the bed dipped, and Tess rolled toward the middle. “Fair’s fair, I guess.”

“Here you are sandwiched, yet again,” Harvey said.

“Maybe that was my plan all along.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“Good ones or bad ones? I’ve got plenty of both.”

She rolled onto her back and crept her hand beneath Ollie’s shirt. Warm skin, hard muscle. He was in damned fine shape for a man of any age, and she understood why Ótama was so insistent Tess bring their warriors home. Their strong women needed strong men, and there just weren’t enough to go around.

She inched her other hand over to the other side of the bed and her palm had barely registered the sensation of Harvey’s skin when they got tossed back into the white void they’d visited earlier in the day.

They stood in a tight triangle, and both men seemed stunned into silence.

“Don’t move!” Tess said, and increased the pressure on both of their chests. “Don’t. Move.”

“What is this place?” Harvey asked. He looked around them, but there was nothing to see. Just white in all directions, as if they were floating within a sphere of it.

Tess could answer because of her earlier conversation with Ótama. “It’s the queen’s playground,” she said. “What I think becomes real in this realm. Ótama says I need to practice molding the environment into something that makes sense. I guess you’re both in my head right now.”

“This is trippy,” Harvey said, but he didn’t pull his hand away. He closed his eyes and cringed. “Shit, is that what’s going on in your head all the time? It’s so chaotic. I don’t understand any of it.”

“We’re not meant to,” Ollie said quietly. He stood there for a moment, staring at her and pondering. “I can only understand the parts pertaining to me. Is that true, Tess? Your father was born in Fallon? He wasn’t Afótama?”

“Ótama said he was like you. I was going to talk to my grandmother about it when we got back.”

“Tess,” Harvey said. “You don’t have to hide…” His gaze trailed down her torso to her belly button area, and lower—down her thighs, past her knees to her feet. “That from me. Any of it. I won’t dwell on your scars or even discuss them now that I know they’re there.”

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath and let go of both of them at the same time.

Back in the bedroom, they lay in the quiet dark and guarded their thoughts closely. Tess kept her hands to herself. “I think the playground is something I can shut off and turn on at will. Right now, it seems to automatically activate when emotions are high and I touch you both at once. It’s probably meant for the queen and her consort to exchange important information quickly at critical junctures. Perhaps before long trips or battles.”

“I find it somewhat problematic that both Harvey and I are able to enter it,” Ollie said.

“The gods have a sense of humor I’m not particularly fond of right now,” Harvey said.

They weren’t getting it. At all. Was she going to have to beat them over the head with the idea? Probably. They didn’t seem to be on the fast track to figuring out the trio thing on their own. Were men only interested in threesomes when two women were involved?

“What they find humorous leaves something to be desired, that’s for sure,” Ollie said.

Tess rolled her eyes, sighed, and flipped onto her belly. “Goodnight.”

“I thought you wanted to cuddle,” Ollie said.

She did want to cuddle. She just wanted it to be the kind of cuddling that came with penetration and a screaming orgasm, but it would have been uncouth for the queen to say so. “Spoon me, then.”

“My pleasure.” He turned onto his side and pulled her back against his chest. Gentleman that he was, he kept his crotch a safe distance away.

Well, Tess only pretended to be a lady, so she ground her ass against his cock and let out a contented moan. “That’s much better.”

“Keep that up and I’ll give you a reason to change your mind.”

“I look forward to that reason.” She wriggled again, and he hissed into her hair.

“Tess…”

“What?” She wriggled again and grinned triumphantly in the dark at his cock hardening against her ass. She picked up his hand and helped him find her slit.

He fondled her tentatively at first, and then slipped one of his big fingers into her. She bucked against him, and his other hand clamped over her mouth. “I’d prefer to not have an audience,” he projected, but he didn’t stop finger-fucking her. His rough thumb engaged her clit, teasing the hood of it and avoiding the tender flesh beneath. If he touched her there, he’d launch her ass right off the bed.

“What if I want one?” she asked.

“Don’t tell me you’re into kink.”

“I’m into a lot of things, some of which don’t even have labels. That bother you?”

He rolled her onto her belly, yanked her nightshirt up, and pulled her ass up into the air.

She giggled against the mattress. She knew. A little teasing, and he’d take control.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Harvey sat up and slapped the lamp switch right as Ollie pressed his fat head against her opening.

He nudged her legs farther apart with his knee and slipped in past her entrance. “Cuddling,” he said. “Want to watch?”

He sounded like he couldn’t give a shit whether Harvey watched or not, but the idea turned Tess on so much that her cream dampened her thighs.

It didn’t take much when these two were concerned.

She wanted him to watch—to see his little submissive getting well and truly fucked by a man he couldn’t stand. She wanted him to ignite that spirit of competitiveness and join in, but right now, she wasn’t even sure he’d stay on the bed.

The tip of Ollie’s cock touched the end of her, and he hadn’t even sheathed himself completely inside her.

“Fuck!”

Ollie patted the small of her back. “Might want to give it a minute. You’re so damned tight.”

“Sounds about right,” Harvey muttered, and he reached for the lamp switch.

“Leave it on and enjoy the show,” Ollie returned.

“I’ve already seen it, and from a much better position than I’m in right now. I didn’t have a front row seat. I was the seat.”

Tess rolled her eyes at the I-got-there-first burn, but it didn’t matter, anyway. Ollie didn’t seem bothered by it.

He started slow, tentative thrusts into her that had her toes curling and teeth chattering in less than thirty seconds.

He was so big, that the sensation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Harvey had fucked her into seeing stars because he knew how to move and all the right spots to hit. He combined the pleasure with an edge, so her orgasm was powerful enough to muddle her brain for an hour afterward. He wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t this big.

She was so full she was nearing the point of overstimulation where she might end up crying as she came. Her body couldn’t process all the feelings in any other way.

And she thought she would take both of them at the same time?

They would break her like a wishbone.

She giggled. She wanted to try, anyway. She wanted to be sandwiched between her two men and have her brains fucked out in every way possible. Obviously, she must have been tapped into a bit of Fiona’s psychosis. That was the only explanation for it.

“If you weren’t clamping down on me like a vise grip and begging me for it, I’d be a little bit offended by the giggling, baby.” Ollie planted his hands on her ass, spread her cheeks, and squeezed.

“She can’t help it,” Harvey said blandly.

Tess opened her eyes to serve him up a dirty look, but her gaze caught immediately on the movement of his hand, up and down, beneath the sheets.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he projected as Ollie increased his pace from torturous to brain-liquefying. “Isn’t that what you wanted? You wanted to see me lose control, right?”

Nope. That hadn’t been her end goal at all. She’d just wanted them both to touch her—to show how much fun they could have if they worked together instead of in opposition.

“Want you.”

He arched up an eyebrow. “Hmm? Is he not giving it to you good enough?”

She ground her teeth and clawed at the sheets as her orgasm built.

“Oh, that face.” His grin was devilish. “He’s so kind to let you come without permission. Go ahead and finish up, and remember—queen or not, I have no problem with bending you over my knee. Obviously, you need it.”

She came, and it would have been loudly if Ollie hadn’t reached up and put her hand over her mouth.

“Shhh,” he said. “Let’s not have the entire floor speculating on who’s getting fucked by whom. It’ll make walking out of here in the morning very interesting.” He swiveled his hips and found an entry angle that had her mumbling gibberish against his hand.

When his hot come surged into her, he unclamped her mouth and leaned over her to kiss her shoulders.

She collapsed onto the bed and locked her gaze on Harvey, whose clenched jaw and shaking shoulders told her he’d found his release, too.

Wide-eyed understanding dawn on his face, and they shared a look she didn’t need words to understand.

Harvey knew. Whether he liked it or not, he knew what they were meant to be. Three. Knowing it was the first step in coming to terms with it.

Ollie padded to the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink.

But, did Ollie know?

14

Tess grabbed Harvey’s wrist and turned it over to read his watch’s display.

He chuckled and chafed her back through her borrowed jacket. Desert temperatures left her somewhat perplexed. She’d expected New Mexico to be hot, but found that the temperatures this fall left something to be desired for a hothouse flower like her. She was cold all the damned time.

“Muriel said she’d be here at two,” he said. He took her hands and tucked them into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling her against his hard body in the process. Knowing what he looked like beneath all that neat attire made casual touching difficult. Her hands itched to yank free the back of his shirt so she could feel the taut sinews of his back—to put her face against his chest and inhale his seductive musk. To twirl her tongue around his navel and farther down to—

“We’ve got a few minutes, so why don’t we clear the air while it’s just us two, huh?” His words pulled her free of her indulgent daydreaming. He was right. They needed to discuss it.

She nodded, and he took her by the crook of the arm and led her to the gazebo in the center of the Norseton community square. Her grandmother had thought Tess being seen out and about would be good for public relations, so Harvey had suggested the lovely little park as a meeting place. As Muriel and Jody would be joining them from across town where they’d gone to settle Fiona in, a central location worked best for all.

Shops and tidy little single-family homes bordered the square. There was a thriving community there in the middle of the desert, and few people knew about it. They had their own post office, a grocery store, and even an independent power supply. Solar panels were as common as air conditioners. Water was harder to come by, but the people were diligent conservators. There were no lush lawns or water-loving plants—just smart landscaping using what was native and sustainable. Almost everyone who lived and worked in Norseton was Afótama. The few exceptions were people who’d married into or had been adopted by the group, and some contractors who were paid handsomely to keep their mouths shut. Some were human, and some…well, Jody wouldn’t elaborate.

They sat on one of the gazebo’s five benches. Harvey pulled his jacket together at her neck, skimming her chin with his thumb in the process. “Comfy?”

“No.”

“Indulge me and tell me why.”

“It’s not because this bench is hard.” She sighed and sat up straighter. Meeting his gaze shouldn’t have been such a difficult thing, but here they were—having yet another conversation she couldn’t have imagined.

She held out a hand, and he took it. “Let me try something.”

Closing her eyes, she sought out that place she’d only visited accidentally before. Her playground was just as white and sterile as it had been when she’d fallen into it with Harvey and Ollie last night, but this time, she tried to shape it. She molded into one of the few places where she’d felt safe as a child—where she sought refuge—and one Harvey would recognize, too. It was a park, but different than the one their bodies waited in.

Their special place.

She pulled him by the hand between two dipping tree boughs, and they settled onto the accumulated leaves with their backs against a large rock.

He laughed. “Wow. Of all places.”

“Yeah.” She’d run away once when she was too young to be successful at it. Harvey had found her there and coaxed her out. Later, it became her hiding place—when she just needed to get away. It was no wonder they were halfway to matehood before puberty. He’d been her solace for so long.

“So…how do we start this?” she asked.

“The conversation or the arrangement?”

“Either.”

He sighed. “First things first, tell me how you feel about it. No bullshit.”

She cringed. “You’ll be angry with me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because that’s the rational response to a situation like this. The woman you’ve committed yourself to taking a second lover isn’t and shouldn’t be an everyday thing.”

“I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. Disappointed? Yeah, there’s definitely some of that. I waited so long for you, and didn’t believe us getting together would actually happen.”

“And as soon as we did, I latched onto another man.”

He turned his hands over, palms-up. “We’re on the same page. I know that you can’t help it. Afótama are supposed to be immediately drawn to their mates, and you did that with Oliver.”

“In spite of already being partially bonded to you.”

“I guess you could consider it an escape clause. I was switched on from birth, but you weren’t. I wanted you, but you didn’t feel the same pull.”

Tess cringed. “It wasn’t like that. We were too close. You were…”

“Like a brother to you. Don’t even say it.”

“Then I won’t.”

“I wasn’t going to push it, Tess. I was going to get out of the way, partial bond or not, so that you had your chance at head over heels with someone. And then I realized that you’re my only chance for that, and I shouldn’t be so quick to give it up.”

“So, that’s why you’d fight for me?”

He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed the backs of them. “Anyone who really loved you would.”

“L-loved me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Nudging up her sleeve, he pressed his lips over her wrist at her pulse point. The teasing warmth traveled up her arm and bloomed in her core. Her nipples tightened and sex tingled, but it didn’t matter how turned on she was because fucking was out of the question for the moment.

He loved her? Did he know how seriously fucked up she was? Obviously, he didn’t.

“I don’t expect you to feel the same.” He let her hand down, but held it on his lap. “I know you care about me and enjoy my company—”

“Stop it. Don’t try to put words in my mouth, and don’t make it less than what it is. You’re irreplaceable, and I can’t imagine being here if you weren’t. You’re my friend, yes, but you’re also the most attentive lover I’ve ever had and I don’t want to separate those two things. You get me.”

“Yeah, I get you, sweetheart.”

She twirled a length of his loose hair around her fingers and warily met his gaze. “I want to get you, too. I want to understand you. Keep you. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want you around me if you’re not mine. ”

His lips quirked up in a half-grin. “What would my queen have me do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your queen would have you tell her that you’re willing to share.”

He leaned back against the rock again and smoothed his hair back from his face. “It seems to be the gods’ will, which makes the scenario easier for me to accept. Perhaps it’s for the best. I travel so much for work that I’d rarely have to see him.”

She gave him a playful cuff to the arm. “Be nice.”

“Nice? Doll, I thought you knew me better than that.” He pushed up an eyebrow and wrapped his fist around her ponytail. He gave it a sharp tug, and she sighed contentedly.

“I don’t want to know where you learned to do that.”

“Ask me and I’ll tell you.”

“Nope. I don’t want to imagine your little army of submissives down on their knees with their faces tilted up like baby birds waiting for scraps. I bet they were all waiting to be raided and plundered, and you begrudgingly complied again and again. Poor you.”

“Mmm. Sounds about right.”

She swatted him. “Asshole.” She let the playground dissolve around them, and back in the real world, Harvey pressed his hands to her face and pulled her into a breath-stealing kiss that made her forget what she was angry about.

Nan cleared her throat at the gazebo opening, and Tess pulled back from Harvey, cheeks ablaze.

Harvey obviously felt no such shame, and grinned as he draped his arms over the back of the bench.

“If you’re going to neck in public,” Nan said, “you need to have guards with you.”

“I thought we were safe within Norseton.”

“Generally,” Jody said. He and Nan took the bench across from Tess and Harvey. “But, we do have some traffic coming in and out that we can’t control one hundred percent. The delivery vehicles, for instance. We can’t have huge grocery orders dropped off at the gates.”

“Got it,” Tess said. “How’s our prodigal girl settling in? I can’t make heads or tails of her on the web. She’s so…”

“Scattered?” Nan offered.

Tess nodded. It was more polite than what she was thinking.

“Just fine. Her parents will see to it that she and the children adjust well and get her the medical care she needs. We’ll question her later about what she knows. We’ll give her some time to calm herself first.”

“Great.”

“Where’s Mr. Gilisson?” Nan asked. “He did come back with you, didn’t he?”

“He left some things in Fallon up in the air and had to go make some calls.” And thank gods, because she and Harvey needed that talk. “He’ll catch up with us soon.”

Nan lifted her chin and stared out between Tess and Harvey. “Excellent timing. Here he comes now.”

Ollie jogged up the path, waving on approach.

Tess couldn’t help smiling as he came. A man that big shouldn’t have moved so gracefully. He had a confident awareness of his body, and every movement hypnotized. She’d been awed by him from the moment he stepped into her suite, and that hadn’t changed. He must have been exquisite in battle.

“What?” he projected as he took the adjacent bench.

“Nothing. Just thinking about you…and your sword.”

“Oh, yeah? Want me to fit it in your sheath?”

“Yes, please.”

Harvey gave her knee a squeeze. “Having trouble focusing? Your grandmother asked you a question.”

“Sorry. I, uh…” There wasn’t a damned thing she could say that would keep her out of trouble, so she just cleared her throat and looked studiously in her grandmother’s direction. “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Certainly. I asked if you were ready for a heavy blow.”

Tess felt her brow furrow. “I’m sorry?”

Harvey leaned in and whispered, “Your parents, Tess.”

“Oh.” Tess could read nothing from Nan’s expression, but Jody’s was drawn. He leaned forward with his forearms over his thighs and wrung his hands. He wouldn’t look at her. That didn’t bode well.

“I didn’t want to dump too much on you at once, because I worried you’d dump it all back into the web. I understand Mr. Gilisson can help you with that?”

Ollie nodded.

“Then by all means, please help her.”

Ollie closed the short distance between his bench and Tess, and sat at her right. She looked at Harvey, who nodded grimly, and let go of his hand. She took Ollie’s. Touching them both could lead to unpredictable results. Harvey would have understood that.

“Hi, Tess!” Bubbly, smiling Erin jogged past the gazebo waving with a small dark-haired woman on her heels, whom also waved. Erin wore those bright white sneakers, a sports bra, and a pair of exercise shorts so tiny that if she bent over, they could probably see London and France.

“Hi,” Tess said through clenched teeth. Ollie hissed and Harvey muttered, “Fuck, Tess.” She looked down to find she’d dug her nails into Ollie’s palm and Harvey’s thigh.

“Sorry.” She gave them apologetic pats, and retook Ollie’s hand.

“You could hardly fault them for looking,” Jody said. “I mean, our girls are h-h-ho—”

His eyes rolled back in his head and his body shook violently with a seizure of some sort.

Harvey and Ollie both got to their feet, but Nan held up her hands, keeping them back.

Jody stopped shaking, and now growled through his bared teeth. “Nan!”

“Gods, child, it wasn’t me. I always fire off a warning shot.”

They all turned to look at Tess.

She blinked, and then shrugged. “Did I do that?” Whoever did it, she thought he’d totally deserved it.

Jody growled again.

“Sorry,” she said flatly. “I guess I have a new trick.”

Ollie chuckled and took her hand once more. “You are a scary little woman.”

“Just wait until I actually know what I’m doing. Really, Jody. I am sorry, a little.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “You need to work with Nadia on keeping your emotions from coming to sudden heads like that. You have the capability to seriously hurt people without trying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Who was the brunette of so little enthusiasm jogging with Erin?”

“That would be your secretary Lora.”

Oh.

She probably should have known that.

“Wait, Lora’s not—”

“Afótama? No.”

“Thank you, but what I was actually going to say was lily white. It’s extra-white here, y’all. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Nan sighed. “I’m certain Lora has. She was one of many children who were adopted during the time you were gone.”

“That ought to help keep the gene pool fresh. How do people avoid hooking up with their relatives?”

“Careful record-keeping, which is one of the jobs of the matriarch. Hopefully, I’ll have many years ahead to teach you your next role. Back to the matter at hand, however. Around twenty years ago, your brother Keith set out on a mission of exploration, if you will. Like all of us, he was enamored of the sea. He and some of his friends chartered a boat, and they hopped from island to island in the Caribbean, visited the South American coast, and I’m certain they even made it to Hawaii once or twice. One day, he came home and he had this harebrained scheme to find us all a new place to settle. Somewhere by the sea, he said. We all laughed it off at the time, because where could we go and thrive where men don’t already live? He made it his mission to look anyway. We received a letter from him when he’d just turned twenty, and he told us there was a small island a gentleman would consider letting us lease. Of course I said no outright, and then we didn’t hear from him again. Your parents set out to track him, and that was the last time we saw them alive. The Cuban government was kind enough to send them back to us for burial.”

Whoa. Tess’s life and history really was sounding more and more like the plot of a graphic novel. “But, you said you believed Keith was alive.”

She nodded. “Yes, Keith is alive. He’s on the web. You wouldn’t recognize him.”

“And there’s something’s wrong with him,” Jody said. “His thoughts are wild. He doesn’t seem to have any awareness of us any longer. He’s lost in his own head.”

“Do you think he was somehow responsible for our parents’ deaths?”

Jody nodded, but Nan shook her head.

Shit. If they didn’t agree, how the hell was she supposed to know what to do? She didn’t want to believe her own brother would purposefully lead their parents to harm, but if he had, what was she willing to do about it? She could convene the Thing—their assembly—and let the Afótama hash out a suitable punishment for him, but this was a family issue. Her brother, her parents. She and Nan would deal with him quietly.

“It’s not high priority at the moment, Tess,” Nan said, “but tying off bleeding arteries is one of the queen’s jobs. I couldn’t find him, but you must try. You need to ensure our secrets aren’t being spread around, and that if one of us harms another, appropriate measures are taken to discourage others who would do the same.”

She got up and gave Tess’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “It’s a lot to take in all at once, but you were born to be queen, and that means you’re equipped to endure the trials. Don’t forget to check in with Lora. You should know the staff, at least by their faces.”

Nan stepped down from the gazebo and headed toward home.

Jody stood next. He pulled his beanie hat down more snugly and shifted his weight. “When it’s time to look, Tess, I’ll go with you. We need to get you better at tracking first. It’s in the Afótama skill set, but you should be best at it.”

“I can’t even find my way out of a crowded parking lot,” she said softly.

Harvey wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “I’ll help you. You’re too hardheaded for anyone else.”

“Ha ha.” She sighed and laid her forehead against his chest. “Thanks for being here,” she projected as Jody left them.

“I’d do anything for you.”

There was another set of footsteps retreating down the path, and Tess knew without looking that it was Ollie.

Shit. How must they have looked to him? He probably thought Tess had totally shut him out in favor of Harvey. The truth was, neither man was ever far from her mind. Just because her attention wasn’t on one didn’t mean she wasn’t concerned about the other.

In the web, the two of them were closest to her in the middle. She could hardly check in on the clan without having to mentally climb over them, and that connection was getting stickier with time. If she lost one man, his absence would leave a hole not just in her heart, but also at the very center of the web. She wanted them both. Needed them both.

“He’ll have to figure out how to take you when he wants you, Tess,” Harvey said softly, apparently tapping into the cause of her stress. “You know I’m not going to leave gaps for him to fit in. He’s going to have to make his own.”

“I know.”

But what if he didn’t want to? What if gaps weren’t enough for him?

15

“There you are.” Tess found Ollie in the mansion’s private library, bent over a large book.

He looked up and smiled. “Yeah, here I am.”

She sidled up to the table he’d claimed and peered at the ancient text. “What are you reading?”

“It’s an accounting of some of the battles our group engaged in before we sailed to the Americas.”

“Before we split, you mean.”

“Yes. It’s interesting stuff. It’s hard to tell how much is hyperbole and how much is factual, but there’s a lot of good warfare strategy in there.” He picked up the left-side pages and carefully shut the book. After belting it and returning it to its glass case, he pulled off the white archival gloves and bunched them together. Nan must have really trusted him to give him free rein of such valuable documents. “Did you need something?”

The sharp tone took her aback. He’d just smiled at her! She realized it must have been forced.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the table edge and cleared her throat. “Not really. I wondered if you were hiding from me.”

He rubbed his thumbs over the glove fabric as if meditatively, and stared at her for a long while.

She didn’t think he was going to answer, and she couldn’t make sense of the emotions coiling around him.

“Of course not,” he said finally. “If I were going to hide, I’d go back to Fallon.” He dropped the gloves, and sank onto the seat at the end of the table. He patted his lap, and Tess sat sideways across it. She sighed as she nestled her face against his chest.

Felt so good to be near him, and he’d been scarce since that afternoon at the gazebo. She’d worried he’d walked off to stew and plot his challenge, and it’d been a hard two days without his soothing touch. It was as loud as a rock and roll concert inside her head. The buzz had gotten worse instead of better thanks to some out-of-control tutoring sessions with Nan. Nan could tell Tess in very practical terms how to manipulate the Afótama web to get the information she needed out of it, but to Nan, it was simple. Tess’s gift was unpredictable because of whom her father had been. The last of their kind born of a warrior had been Ótama’s daughter Sævör.

Tess drummed her fingertips on the sides of Ollie’s arms. Maybe she was looking to the wrong person for a tutor. Who better to educate her on her gifts than the woman whom they stemmed from?

She had a thought.

“Ótama told me that before he died, my father made sure that our match was ordained.”

“I remember reading that off you in your playground.”

“It didn’t make sense why he would do that until now.”

“Explain.”

“Well, we’ve had centuries of Afótama queens with Afótama consorts. All of their powers manifested in more or less the same way.”

“And your father wasn’t Afótama. Hmm. I think I see where you’re going.” His rough fingertips traced the sinuous curve of her jaw and chin.

She sighed indulgently and closed her eyes. “Exactly. I’ve got all the queenly shit, but not the same control of it because no one here knows what the other half comes with.”

“But, I do.”

“Mm-hmm. You can help me map out what’s what, maybe work with Harvey to figure out how to counterbalance the two sides.”

Ollie grunted and tipped her off his lap as he stood.

She slapped her feet to the floor before her ass could hit it. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Nothing.” He walked to an open bookcase and peered at the spines. “I’ll help you all I can.”

She ground the heels of her palms against her eyes and gritted her teeth. She would have thought that of the two of them, Harvey would have been the more difficult one to convince they should give the ménage arrangement a shot. Ollie was far more laidback, so she was surprised at he hadn’t considered the compromise on his own.

All right. Soothe the beast. She moved around the desk and stepped behind him at the bookcase. “Why don’t you seek me out?” She slipped her hands inside the back of his black shirt and pressed them at the base of his spine. He was so warm, so strong. She loved every hard inch of his body, and all the soft ones, too. His rough edges had been hewn by years of hard work and persistence. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d give up on anything, and she was going to make sure he stuck it out with her, too. Come what may.

“Why don’t you seek me out? Come looking for me?” She traced around the top of his waistband with a feather-light touch that made him suck in a breath.

“I figured you were busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you and Harvey.”

She ignored the deep rumble from his chest and fluttered her fingers over the silky trail of hair beneath his bellybutton. She felt his pulse thundering in that place as all his blood headed south.

“Besides, Harvey had to fly to Charlotte to tie up some business issues. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Harvey could have done some of what he had to do remotely, but they’d both agreed Ollie needed placating. Harvey had hoped he’d only be gone for a few days, but while he was there, he’d get all his ducks in a row. He didn’t want to have to leave Tess like this again—not when she really needed him.

“How long has he been gone?”

“Two days.”

She dipped her hands inside his waistband and he grabbed her wrists as her fingertips skimmed his coarse curls.

“You’re just lonely,” he said. “I feel it.”

“You’re right that I’m lonely, but being lonely doesn’t make me desperate. I was by myself for a very long time, and celibate for most of it. If I’m touching you, it’s because it makes me happy to do so. I assure you that’s a rare thing. To be Afótama, I value my personal space far too much to give it up casually.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. Let go of my wrists.”

He hesitated. “Is that an order from the queen or merely a request?”

She canted her head, staring at him. She felt nothing from him. Either he didn’t feel any particular way, or he was able to lock his emotions down the same way she did her thoughts. Did he not want her to touch him?

“I don’t want to order you. I just want to touch you. Please let me.”

He let go.

She rested her chin against his back and closed her eyes. “Are you going to make things hard for me?” she whispered. It was a rhetorical question she expected no response to.

He gave none.

“Harvey told me that he’s been online since he was a kid.”

Ollie tensed against her, but didn’t move away.

“He caught bits and pieces of psychic activity from the time he was very young, and never told anyone because he didn’t want to get into trouble.”

“Wise of him.”

“Well, I feel like that lost little kid right now who knows she’s weird, but can’t get a handle on how. I’m twenty years behind the curve. I don’t know how simple things work, and yet I can cause pain without trying.”

“You’ve got a find a pocket of serenity in your mind and cling to it.”

“You make that sound like a simple thing.”

“For me, it is. I’ve been doing it all my life, so I can’t tell you how to do it. It’d be like explaining how to draw in air. It’s something you do once, and then keep doing involuntarily. It becomes automatic. Like blinking.”

“I hope I find that serene place sooner or later, then.”

“You will.” This time, when he grasped her wrists, she let him pull them free of his waistband. He turned around, sighing, and cupped her chin. “You know, that’s another way you’re different from the women in Fallon.”

She felt her brow furrow. “In that I can’t control myself?”

“No, in that you don’t particularly relish hurting people.” His smile waned, and his already-sullen mood seemed to plummet even more.

No, no, no! She needed him smiling again, and not just because he had the face of a god and the curve of his lips made her want to have very naughty things done to her. She needed him to smile, because his sadness gnawed at her gut and debilitated her. She couldn’t do anything else until he was content.

Whatever had happened that would break such a man this way…she didn’t want to fathom it.

“I don’t want you upset,” she said, and knew the words were inadequate as soon as they passed her lips, but she wasn’t good with words. Harvey had always been the one who was good with words. The only thing she’d been good at was running, and she was sick and tired of running.

Vikings didn’t run away from fights.

“It’s not your fault, baby.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. When you’re sad, I want to fix it. That’s how it works right?”

“Should work that way, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that connection working the way the gods intended.”

“What can I do to make you happy?”

His eyes rolled toward the ceiling, and hands settled atop her shoulders. He kneaded them, skillfully rolling the tight knots with strong hands.

Moaning, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the blessed silence.

“You want to make me happy? Get on my bike and go back to Fallon with me.”

“You know I can’t. I belong in this place.”

“I know. I may be an outcast, but I wouldn’t try to upset that. Not now.” He pressed his thumbs to her temples and continued his massage there.

“Mmm. That feels nice.”

“I like that you let me touch you the way I want.”

“You haven’t been unreasonable. And you’ve been gentle. There’s nothing to complain about.”

“I know how much you value your personal space.”

“It’s hardly an intrusion when it’s broached by people I adore.”

“Adore, huh?”

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You felt it the moment you walked into my suite. Hell, you could probably smell the lust on me. I wanted to climb you like a tree, even with everything that was going on in my head that night.”

“I assure you the feeling was mutual. When you turned up in my dreams, you’d tease me.” He let his hands fall to her shoulders, and down her arms. “There was this one dream I always hated. You’d undress me, and lay me down. You’d rub me with some kind of oil from my neck down to my toes and you’d just glide your nude body over me. Back and forth.”

He cupped her breasts through her shirt and pushed them together. He leaned his head to the side and looked at her with longing as if she wouldn’t let him take what he wanted.

“You’d sit on my legs, push your breasts together like this, and put my cock between them.”

“I did that?” Maybe it was time she expanded her repertoire.

“Mm-hmm.” He let go of her breasts only to pluck her aching nipples.

Moaning, she arched into him, and he grabbed her beneath the ass, picked her up, and set her on the desk’s edge.

“I always woke up hard enough to cut glass, and there wasn’t a single woman around I wanted touching me.”

“Sounds awful.”

“All your fault.” Pressing his hands to her knees, he parted her legs.

“I can’t find it in me to apologize.”

“So don’t.” He grabbed the fabric of her skirt and pulled it over her knees. Spreading her legs farther, he hissed. “Panties have a purpose.”

“Sometimes. Usually not. I figured you’d prefer easy access.” She reached for his belt buckle and paused to study it. Silver with a slight patina. It was a heavy rectangle engraved with a Viking longship. A fearsome dragon, mouth opened and tongue lashing out, stretched from the bow. “It’s pretty,” she said.

“It’s yours, then.”

“That’s kind of you, but it looks very old. You should keep it.”

“It is old,” he said. He unfastened it and pulled the belt free from his jeans. “All the more reason for you to have it. Anyone can go into a jewelry store and buy you baubles, but this means something.” He loosened the buckle from the leather strap and folded her fingers over the silver work of art. “Think of me every time you look at that.”

“I don’t need a belt buckle to remember to think about you. I think about you all the time.”

“Oh, yeah?” He unbuttoned his jeans and let the fly down slowly. His focused gaze on her warned last chance to back out, but she had no intentions of doing so. The first time they’d made love, they’d had an audience. This time, there were no distractions. Just them.

She curled her hand at the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He sipped at her lips tentatively at first, but then she bit down hard on his bottom lip in warning. His mouth took hers more urgently, his tongue tangling with hers and delving into every corner of her mouth. His hands at her back were rough with their work-hardened skin, but nimble and sure as he freed her bra clasp.

He pulled back from their kiss and yanked her shirt over her head, immediately pressing her back to the desktop and pulling her ass to the edge.

His hot, hungry mouth latched onto her right breast and sucked the nipple into a hard peak while pulling the other between his fingers.

She moaned, and his free hand found her mouth. “Forgot you were a loud one. Going to have to figure out what to do about that short of gagging you.”

He moved his hand away, and his hips wriggled at her thighs. She looked down her body and watched his cock spring free from his boxers. Thor’s celestial hammer was nothing compared to the magic of Ollie’s dick.

He wrapped her legs around his waist and breached her in a continuous thrust. “You are so wet. So ready.”

“Always ready for you.” If only he’d take the hint, and take her when he wanted her. She didn’t understand his tentativeness. He was born of people used to being aggressive to get what they wanted. Wouldn’t his woman count?

After a few slow, rhythmless thrusts meant more to stretch her than pleasure himself, he increased his tempo and lifted her ass a couple of inches off the desktop. “Mmm. I believe this is the first time I’ve had sex outside of a bed.”

He had to be fucking kidding.

“It’s true,” he said, obviously gleaning her thoughts off her. He rolled his hips and the end of his cock knocked on her gateway to oblivion.

Already, her eyelids fluttered and toes curled. She was worse than a boy at puberty. She could probably get off just from thinking about sex long enough. It hadn’t always been that way, though. In fact, she’d only been afflicted with the condition for approximately three weeks.

He thrust again, and when she screamed, he set her back down on the desk and put that hand back over her mouth. “Shhh.”

“As if I can help it!”

“I’m flattered. Really.” His wolfish grin verified such.  “Wrap your legs around my back and hold on tight.”

She did it, and he pinned her wrists together over her head, covered her mouth with his mouth, and fucked her.

This wasn’t a gentle reconnection or sensual bonding of mature lovers. This was desperate claiming. He didn’t just want her, but needed her, and her him, so she let him take it.

The hard desk against her spine and tailbone didn’t matter. Her cramped shoulders didn’t matter. Her fear of her station didn’t matter, as long as he took what he needed.

“Tess…” he whispered against her lips as her body writhed beneath his. Her fingers splayed and curled over her head, but had nothing but the air to dig into.

His rhythm faltered, breath hitched.

Then, he filled her. His cock pulsed in her as he expended his seed, and she thought of the children they’d make. His. Harvey’s. Theirs.

Their future leaders, bringing the rest of the outcasts home to roost. Reuniting them to form the strong clan they should be.

He laid a tender kiss on her temple, and whispered, “I’m yours, Tess. Me. Only me. Do you hear me?”

She heard him.

She didn’t respond.

* * *

Tess climbed the net and threw herself over the side of Ótama’s ship. She sighed as she settled next to the woman at her usual place by the mast.

“How lovely,” Ótama said, pointing to Tess’s newly enhanced belt.

“It’s Ollie’s. Since I’m on the subject of him, he doesn’t get it, and I feel like being too candid will drive him away.”

“Perhaps caution will be best. Trust your instincts. I cannot divine the future, but I will say that to my knowledge, there has never been a queen whose mate rejected her.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the first, so slow and steady seems to be the way to go. I hope Ollie can deal with that. Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything. I cannot promise I will be able to answer.”

“I’m just wondering if there’s ever going to be a point where I’ll cope with all the mental chatter without having Ollie around. I know he’s supposed to be a helpmate for me, but logistically, how am I…” She tugged at her hair, groaning. “Fuck, I can’t even walk way from him for five minutes to brush my teeth without getting weighed down by all the demands on the web. On those nights when everyone decides to watch the news all at once and get depressed by what they see—I can hardly keep my heart in my chest for all the stress. But, I’m supposed to be the one honing in on it and filtering it all out! How can I?”

“It is your grandmother’s job to soothe the hurts, sweeting, not yours.”

“Huh?”

“I believe we have isolated one of your problems. I suspect you are doing as she did and acting as both conduit and filter. You cannot. You can sift out the rocks, but let all the sand pass through to her.”

Surprisingly, the metaphor made sense. She knew exactly what Ótama meant, but it was something she’d need to get into the swing of. Tess had learned to “do it” wrong, and now had to break the bad habits.

“I feel like I’m teaching myself as I go along, and am failing at it,” she said. “Nan’s not affected by the heaped-on emotional shit from the outsiders, so she can’t walk me through my job. What she would do doesn’t apply to me.”

Ótama pursed her lips and drummed her fingers atop her swollen belly. “I believe you are more like me than like Muriel. Your particular blend of powers will be difficult to learn and wield, especially without close guidance. I am certain that is not what you wish to hear.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“I am sorry. If I were there in the flesh, I would be so humble to be at your assistance.”

Tess laid her head on Ótama’s shoulder, and the ghost rubbed her hair.

“Stop choking what is coursing through you. You are afraid of it, and should be, but you must form a truce with it.”

A truce. Tess couldn’t even recognize her own personality within it all anymore. Maybe that was what being queen meant—that she had to sacrifice who she was to be something more.

“Choose the people around you carefully until you have a better idea of what your limits are,” Ótama said. “They will be more forgiving of mishaps, and there will indeed be some. If you do feel out of control, I would suggest you try to ride out the power rather than tamping it down. That way you know where it begins and ends.”

Tess tensed. “I gave Jody a little zap a couple of weeks ago, but you’re saying I could…I could really harm people.”

Ótama didn’t answer immediately, and by the time she did, Tess figured she already knew the answer.

“Especially your men,” Ótama said. “It has been a very long time since one of our men has had to put his mate’s power in check.”

In check? Tess had grown familiar with the temperatures of emotions in recent weeks. When the web was happy, she felt warm. Excitement gave her hot flashes. Sadness had a coolness about it. The coldness she felt now that permeated down to her bones could be nothing else but fear.

She didn’t want to know any more. Scared to know more, but had to. She wasn’t a cowering queen.

“That’s why I have two mates. I’m going to hurt them, aren’t I?”

“I cannot see the future, but take this to heart. Do not try to hide your power from them. They need to know the taste of it, bitter as it may be.”

16

“Yoo hoo, Earth to Gilisson. Earth to Gilisson. Come in, Gilisson.” Jeff snapped his fingers repeatedly in front of Ollie’s face. Ollie didn’t know how long the man had been trying to get his attention. He couldn’t help zoning out. Before he’d met Tess, his focus was the sharply honed instrument expected of a man descended from a line of fighters. But now…

Jeff snapped again. “Yo! Someone could lop your head off in the time it’d take you to see them in the mirror walking up behind you and pulling the blade.”

“Sorry.” Ollie rolled his capped bottle of water beneath his palm and fixed his stare on the television mounted in the corner. The Diamondbacks were stinking up the stadium. Big surprise.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about. Me being here isn’t what you think.” In fact, he’d avoided Jeff for a week so he wouldn’t have to have this conversation. What could he say? He was well and truly pussy-whipped by a woman he’d known in the flesh for less than a month, and he didn’t even care. He’d do anything for Tess, even call her “queen.” Fuck.

They’d spent a blissfully uninterrupted week getting to know each other, sans accompaniment.

Every time he entered a room, she lit up. No one had ever done that for him before. At first he thought she just needed him for his mental shield, but then he realized, she only threw herself bodily at him half the time. The other half, she’d smile and wave, and turn her attention back to whatever it was she was concentrating on before he interrupted.

She was a woman of few pretenses. If she wanted something, she asked for it. “Ollie, I need your help.” “Ollie, could you hold me?” She was slightly more subtle about sex, though. He could never tell if her aggressive cuddling was meant to be foreplay, not that he complained.

“So, when are you going back?” Jeff asked.

Ollie righted his water bottle and unscrewed the cap. “As soon as I can. Being an adult means I’ve got to handle business properly. I’ve got bikes waiting to be fixed and the boys to take care of. Missed them when I was gone.” Lyman seemed to be out of the loop, and not really understanding where Ollie had been, but Matt had been nothing but cynical since Ollie had come home.

Ollie couldn’t really blame him. His father had gone off to claim the hand of some woman whose sovereignty their lot didn’t accept. But, Matt didn’t know what it felt like to have someone hand-picked for him and to not be happy until he knew that person was his.

“You got time to fix my bike?” Jeff asked.

Ollie shook his head. “Sorry, man. I’m going to have to take a rain check. Why don’t you just replace it? The cost of repairs at this point are higher than the value of the bike.”

“Come on, that was my daddy’s bike.”

Ollie gave him the long blink treatment.

Jeff sighed. “All right, the muffler came off Pop’s bike, but me and that muffler have been through thick and thin, you know?”

“Buy a new bike,” Ollie said slowly, putting extra emphasis on the word new.

Jeff mouthed fuck and swirled his rag over the bar top. He polished the polyurethaned surface meditatively for a moment, and his forehead furrowed with what appeared to be consternation.

“What happened now? Forgot to put in the alcohol order again?”

“This is just curiosity talking here, but pardon it ’cause I’ve never been great at recognizing folks from pictures. Does your queen ever go out unescorted?”

“She’s not supposed to, but no one can really stop her, especially since she doesn’t have formal guards right now.” Harvey had pulled them, and Ollie had kept his mouth shut. He would have done the same had he the authority.

“Oh, okay.” Jeff nodded and swirled his rag some more.

“For fuck’s sake, man, why?”

“Uh, I dunno. There’s a woman by the door wearing a belt buckle that looks like yours. There ain’t too many people rocking sterling silver longship buckles. Just sayin’.”

Ollie turned around on his stool and immediately caught sight of Tess and Nadia standing by the door. She must not have seen him yet, because they’d gotten swarmed the moment they walked in. He didn’t think it was because she was the Afótama queen. Common sense told him that it was because she and Nadia were two of very few women in a room of hard-up airmen and Viking-descended rogues.

He worried about both equally. The airmen were long overdue for ass, and the rogues would figure out what and who she was in minutes, if it took that long.

He hopped off the stool and pushed his way through the crowd.

“Thank fuck,” he heard Nadia mutter. Knowing Nadia, she was probably wearing enough weapons that she could put a good hurting on half the men in the room, but she preferred to be discreet. She probably didn’t want people remembering her face in case some bad shit ever went down.

But, who wouldn’t remember her? Like her cousin, she was easy on the eyes, and there weren’t too many women with natural red hair who shaved off entire sides of their heads.

“Ollie!” As always, he caught Tess under the ass when she launched herself at him. She wrapped her legs around his torso, and held herself back a bit from his face to look at him. “You didn’t call me.”

“If he doesn’t want you, I’ll call you, baby,” some asshole in the crowd called out.

Ollie grunted, and turned toward the dark back booth no one ever sat at. “No, I didn’t call you,” he said, as he navigated them through the tightly packed tables, squeezing her ass all the while. He suddenly understood Harvey’s frequent threats to spank her. What the hell was she thinking, coming to Fallon? She must have known she wasn’t going to arrive to a warm reception.

“I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you too, baby. Hell, I miss you so fucking bad I can’t stand it. I didn’t want to hear your voice because it’d just remind me that I’m here and you’re… Well, what the hell are you doing here?” He dropped her onto the C-shaped booth’s bench and folded his arms over his chest.

“Nadia said I was pathetic and got sick of hearing me whine.”

Nadia slipped into the booth on the adjacent side. “Yep, that’s true. I, however, did not condone this unsanctioned trip. She said I owed her for stabbing her in the neck with a needle, and I guess I agreed.” She shrugged. “I suppose I could have used a little more finesse.”

“What were you whining about?” Ollie asked. He waved at Jeff and mouthed “menus.” It was close enough to dinnertime, and with Harvey around, he never really got a chance to treat his girl.

“I’ve been disjointed since last week.”

He didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she started wringing them. He took them, and squeezed. That bit of contact seemed to bolster her and steady her frayed nerves.

“Harvey was due back yesterday, but got held up not only on his company’s business, but doing some investigation for my grandmother. She has a lot of free time on her hands now and she’s been looking into leads about some cold case stuff from during her tenure. I…I don’t want anyone else touching me.”

Damn. That explained why she and Nadia were out cruising on their own. Harvey wasn’t around to stop them. The fact that it took two men to keep Tess occupied didn’t escape his thoughts. She sure was a hell of a lot of woman to be such a little slip of a thing.

Jeff sidled over and slipped a laminated menu in front of each of them. He took his time with Nadia’s, even going so far as to massage an invisible smudge off the front with his trusty rag. “Sorry about that,” he said, and shook his head. “With the way the buffoons are around here, a guy can’t have anything nice.”

“Mm-hmm.” Nadia held her menu in front of her face, which didn’t stop Jeff from leering in her direction.

Yep. Ollie had known it from the moment he’d made Nadia’s acquaintance—she was perfect for Jeff, and he was fucking smitten.

Good luck, man. She’s not going to make it easy.

“What’s good?” Tess asked and she squinted at her menu, and probably couldn’t see shit due to the dimness. That table was generally reserved for folks who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves for the hour it took them to eat, drink, and get out.

Hell, Ollie understood the compulsion. If Nadia hadn’t been there, he’d be snaking his hands up Tess’s breezy shirt and helping himself to palmfuls of her perfect tits. The way she yipped when he clamped her nipples between his fingers made his cock dance.

“Whatcha in the mood for, queenie?” Jeff licked his fingers and turned over a fresh sheet of his order pad.

Tess raised an eyebrow at him. “Tell me I don’t have a reputation in Fallon.”

“They know of you,” Ollie said, “but most wouldn’t recognize you.”

“Are they going to be pissed if they find out I’m here?”

“Well, not pissed,” Jeff said. He twirled his stubby little pencil between his fingers and rolled his gaze up to the ceiling. “Suspicious, maybe. I don’t know how many people know you’ve sank your claws into Ollie.”

The table shook, and the epicenter of the rumble appeared to be from the blade of the Bowie knife now protruding from the wood. The handle happened to be right in front of Jeff’s crotch. Nadia had pulled that weapon out of gods-knew-where, and being so sharp, it sunk into the wood like a hot knife through butter.

Jeff didn’t even flinch. “Can’t have nothing nice, just like I said.”

“You just insulted my cousin.”

He blinked. “I did?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Nadia,” Tess piped up, “It’s o—”

Ollie squeezed her knee beneath the table. “Let them work it out. He’s out of practice with women like you two, and needs to be put through his paces.”

“Nadia’s not exactly a beginner’s level kind of girl.”

“Nope.” Ollie grinned. That, she wasn’t. That would serve Jeff right for all the talk about Ollie being pussy-whipped like the Afótama men. Obviously, Jeff had never met an Afótama woman before now.

Nadia cocked her head to the side so her bluntly cut hair fell over her shoulder. “You said something about her claws.”

“It was just an expression,” Jeff said. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

“Don’t concern yourself with the state of my panties. If they’re bunched up, that’s my business. The only time you should ever be worried about my underwear is if they’ve been wadded up and shoved into your mouth as a gag. I keep losing my gags.”

Jeff’s relaxed expression gave way to a pulled one. His nostrils flared, lips flattened into a tight line, and jaw twitched.

Nadia drummed her fingers atop the menu. “Are you ready to apologize, or should I carve what I think of you into this nice tabletop?”

Jeff turned slowly to Tess, and with that deathly pallor, it was a wonder he was still upright. Ollie didn’t want to think about where all the blood from his friend’s head had gone.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Dahl,” Jeff said. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. Ollie’s very lucky.”

“Thank you,” Tess said cheerily.

Nadia pulled her knife from the wood and made it disappear beneath the table. “Are you ready to take my order now? I’m starving. The staff cook back in Norseton is trying to push some kind of macrobiotic diet on us, and I need some fucking animal fat soon or I’m going to cry.”

“That would make you cry?” Jeff asked, deadpan.

“I’d like a bacon cheeseburger, medium rare, with the works. Don’t be stingy with the avocado, but don’t bother if it’s not properly ripe. On the side, I want onion rings with the…” She drummed her blood red nails against the menu and clucked her tongue. “Hmm, let me have the whiskey barbecue dipping sauce, and not just a squirt. Give me a whole cup, got it? And… house salad on the side.”

“It’s just lettuce, honey. No one ever orders it, so I don’t buy anything else.”

“Thank you for being honest, but if you call me honey again, I’ll see that you wake up naked and facedown in a sticky pool of it.”

“Shit.”

“Water to drink, thanks.”

Jeff turned to Ollie. “I’m in love.”

Ollie groaned. “Get me the usual, and a pitcher of decent beer with glasses.”

“What’s your usual?” Tess asked.

“Enough food for a man my size. I won’t bore you with the specifics. What do you want?”

“Just fries, I guess. I’ve been so agitated that my appetite is more or less fucked. I’m just grazing.”

Jeff walked away to put the order in.

Ollie draped his arm over Tess’s shoulders. “Baby, we’re going to have to find ways to minimize your stress when you’re at home alone. Back in the day when the men went out raiding, they’d leave their women at home for weeks at a time.”

“Those women weren’t the queen,” Nadia said. She scratched at the edges of the table’s new scar with a fingernail. “Our grandfather stayed near Nan for the first three years after they decided to pair off. She’s not ashamed to admit she was a very needy queen early on. Tess will be twice as needy because she’s absorbed your group’s web, such as it is, along with ours.”

Shit, he hadn’t thought about it that way. She was just so strong. She never let on that she was dealing with. He occasionally tapped into her anxiety, but it was so fleeting, he could never be sure if he’d imagined it. If she was blocking him out that well, she was more powerful than he’d thought.

Damn.

She couldn’t keep that up. It’d eat her alive.

Now he saw what he couldn’t feel. She’d entered the bar with high coloring—a red flush bloomed on her usually pale skin. The longer she sat near him, the more of her natural coloring emerged. She was wound tight, and that was half his fault for letting her get that way.

Shit. How was he going to fill her gaps if she wouldn’t let him in to find them?

He squeezed her hand. “Hey. Once I tie up loose ends here and get the boys squared away, you’ll have more of me than you’ll know what to do with.”

“I’m at a loss when you and Harvey are gone at the same time. You two keep me grounded in real life. Without you, the web tries to drown me. I didn’t realize until you were gone that you two are kind of like rocks blocking a strong current.”

“How so?”

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. “I can’t explain it.”

“That’s okay.” He stroked the backs of her hands. “We’re going to have to figure it out. You’re going to get used to only having one rock, though. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Oh.” Her eyes opened, and she locked her gaze on the cardboard coaster in front of her.

Shit, there it was. Suddenly, her anxiety beat at him, and he felt unusually cold. It’d been so hot in the bar.

He chafed his hand up and down her back. “It’s all right, honey. You’re here now.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes. Tess calmed enough to check messages on her phone. Nadia divided her attention between the baseball game and the doofus manning the bar.

She was interested. Ollie would have bet his bike on it.

Tess set her phone down and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing. You’re trying to block me, but I can feel something.”

“It’s for me to worry about. A bit of stress in the web. All the questioning we did with Fiona this past week didn’t net us any new leads, so we’re trying to make sense of what we have now, and it’s not much.”

Right. He doubted it was just that, but wouldn’t push. “How many are still missing?”

“We believe around fifteen. Some of those might have been runaways and not abductions, so it’s hard to put a figure on it. Fifteen is a fucking lot given the size of the group. Their families are clamoring for me to find them, or at least tell them what happened to them.”

“Whether they’re dead or alive, you mean.”

She nodded against his shoulder.

“I’ll help you all I can. Maybe I can help you feel them out while you tug on the web. Maybe someone will pop their head up so we can triangulate them.”

“I’ll try anything.”

Kelly, the waitress who’d been providing surly, yet efficient, customer service in the Longship for the past two years thunked the pitcher of beer on the table and let the glass mugs down with a clatter.

Nadia gave her a malevolent head-to-toe once-over, but said nothing.

Tess sat more upright and reached for a mug.

“Who’s your friend, Ollie?” Kelly asked. She popped her gum loudly, and focused her sour expression on Tess.

Shit. Don’t start this.

“This is Contessa,” he said, enunciating each syllable of her name clearly. A nickname wouldn’t do. Ollie wanted to make her importance to him known without overt posturing.

Kelly smacked her gum some more. “Don’t know her.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “Thanks for the beer. I guess our food will be out, soon?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t look. So, where’s she from?”

“Why don’t you ask her directly?” Nadia asked. “She’s neither deaf nor mute, and she might just deign to answer you.”

Kelly didn’t even look at her. She was still looking at Tess.

He gave Tess’s knee a reassuring squeeze beneath the table. “You don’t have to answer her, baby.”

“Of course I do. I’m bred to be a politician, remember? Wouldn’t do for me to clam up if she asked a simple question.”

Of course this shit would have to happen to him. She was Kristy’s little cousin, after all. Naturally, she’d be a little brat. It ran in the family, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it all along.

“How do you know Ollie?” Kelly asked her.

Tess laced her fingers atop the table and cleared her throat. “Well, that’s difficult to explain, but suffice it to say he holds a very important position out in Norseton.”

Kelly’s nose crinkled. “Norseton. You’re from there?”

Tess nodded. “Mm-hmm. Sure am.”

Kelly huffed. “Well, Ollie, I guess you weren’t a real man after all if you had to go trawling for women there. That would explain a lot, though. Makes sense why Kristy did what she did. You can’t handle our girls, can you? Got too much spunk?”

“Ollie?”

Spunk was the very least of their issues. He squeezed Tess’s knee once more. “Don’t respond. She wants a fight.”

“Yes, honey, I get that.”

Ollie didn’t know why, but suddenly, there was a perfect calmness about Tess. Serenity, even. It was as if she’d traveled into some placid place in her mind and displaced herself from the confrontation in front of her. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“Kelly, order up!” Jeff called from the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting it,” she yelled back. She sashayed away, chuckling. “Got distracted by the trollops at table fourteen. They’re from Norseton, you guys. Real deal Afótama. We should show them a proper welcome, right?”

Voices of assent chimed up in the room around her, and Ollie made a mental note of all the ones he recognized. Some surprised him.

“Kelly, stop fucking around and telling other people’s business,” Jeff shouted. “Get the order, or get out.”

“All right,” she sang. “I’m getting it. I wonder who’s paying the tab. That life insurance policy you collected on still earning you dividends on the stock market, Ollie?”

He tented his fingers, twirled his thumbs. He’d heard it all before. She pulled that same shit around Matt and Lyman, constantly trying to humiliate and emasculate him, but Ollie wouldn’t take the bait. He had to be bigger than that. That’s why he always asked the gods to gift him with restraint, and not more physical strength. One was easier to come by than the other.

Nadia turned her head slowly toward Tess, who was still projecting that sweet serenity. Tess nodded, and Nadia slipped off the bench. Tess scooted around after her.

“Where are you going?” Ollie asked. It wasn’t a great time to powder her nose. He wouldn’t put it past Kelly to corner her in the bathroom and start some shit, and Ollie had no qualms about going in after her.

“Not far. Not far at all.”

Nadia slipped back into her seat, but kept her body turned toward the bar.

Tess tapped Kelly on her shoulder, and the younger woman turned around. “What?”

“I don’t know who you are, and I’d certainly like to correct that, but before I do, I’d just like to make one thing clear,” Tess said, and her voice was as sweet as a songbird.

“What’s about to happen?” Ollie asked Nadia, because she obviously knew whether she wanted to spill it or not. She was grinning too fucking hard.

“Oh, just another day on the job. I believe your queen is putting a peasant in her place.”

“If Kelly touches my—”

Kelly’s crazed laughter filled the room. She found what Tess had to say highly amusing, apparently.

Nadia grabbed his wrist when he started to stand. “Sit. Don’t forget who Tess is.”

“I haven’t forgotten, and I haven’t forgotten who I am, either. You’ve gotta know I’m wired to keep my woman out of trouble. I can’t just fucking sit here and watch.”

“Oh, you’ll sit. Watch. Learn a little about your woman, why doncha?”

Nadia’s wide grin was patently malevolent.

Holy shit.

“Ollie is my mate,” Tess said. “And, yes, I’m Afótama. If you read last month’s newsletter from our office, you may even recognize my face.” Tess framed it with her hands and grinned. “Wasn’t my official portrait fantastic? I know, I know.” She threw her hands up. “Photoshop is such a miracle piece of technology, right? I’m so much prettier in my pictures, but all the same, let’s make one thing perfectly clear.”

“Uh, Kelly? You might want to back up,” someone in the room warned.

“Shut up,” Jeff called from the counter. “You goaded her on, and this what happens when Vikings can’t hold their fucking tongues. Justice. We don’t need to convene at the Allthing to mete it out. Ain’t that right, queenie?”

“Whatever,” Kelly said. “All of you old guys are punks. That’s why all the girls are dating outside the gene pool now. The Afótama bitches can have you.”

“Thank you so, so much. We’d love to take them all home. We’ve got lots of cold bitches who’d love a sexy man with a big dick to warm them up on the cold desert nights,” Tess said. She smiled sweetly. “Really. Thank you.”

Kelly scoffed.

Tess punched her lights out.

Kelly dropped flat on her back, and some jackass shouted, “Fight!”

“Hell, yeah!” Nadia said, and cackled. She waded into the fray, swinging at a couple of waitresses making their way toward Tess.

The serenity Tess had been dwelling in gave way, and fury took its place. She shook out her fist, and followed Nadia into the fracas. He’d never seen anger like that on Tess’s face. Afótama were, for the most part, very mild in demeanor. This had to be her other side taking the spotlight.

“Fuck,” Ollie muttered when a drunken airman staggered his way. “You don’t want to fight me, dude,” he warned him.

The airman blew a raspberry at swung, aiming badly, and sending himself toppling to the floor.

“Like I said. You don’t want to fight me.” He scanned the room for Tess, and didn’t see her. She’d been swallowed by the flailing mass, and he was going to have to wade in after her.

His girl swung like a prizefighter. Natural fighter or not, she’d obviously had plenty of opportunities to practice that punch. And he’d been thinking she was some delicate blossom? Nah, she was a desert rose.

Even better.

He cracked a couple of heads together as he eased into the fight, and studied their faces as they fell to the floor. He shrugged. A couple of jackasses. He was pretty sure one of them still owed him money for a motorcycle repair.

He moved in farther, saw Tess straddling Monica Pelter and holding the struggling woman’s wrists against the floor, and looked to the door when he heard a familiar voice shout, “Dad?”

“Matt?”

What the hell was he doing at the Longship? He was supposed to have been at work.

He was so caught up in watching Matt that Ollie almost missed dodging the chair being swung at his head.

As he launched himself to Tess and peeled his scrappy little queen off Monica, a shotgun blast thundered through the bar. As the ceiling plaster settled, Jeff shouted, “All right, break it up, motherfuckers. Consider that this quarter’s spontaneous Longship bar brawl and call it over. This is why I can’t have nice things.” He jumped down from the bar and put his gun under the counter. “Show some goddamn respect for the queen, you pieces of shit. And Amber, if you so much as look nasty at my future wifey again, I’ll not only fire your ass, but dock your last check. You dig me?”

From somewhere nearby, Nadia scoffed.

Amber muttered, “Yeah, yeah.”

As Matt picked his way through the overturned room, Ollie gave Tess the once-over. He used his thumb to wipe a smear of blood—hers?—off her chin. Fuck. His job was keeping her out of scenarios like this, and he’d failed. “I wish I could say it’s not always like this here, but I’d be lying. I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

She let out a ragged breath. “It’s my fault. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight. I had to be good because I was on probation for so long, but…something snapped. I’m sorry.”

“Probation?”

“Still want me?” she asked quietly in what had to be an artificially neutral tone. She wasn’t doing a good enough job at keeping him out now. He felt it—her terror.

“Hey.” He put his lips to her ear and whispered, “Look at my crotch and figure it out. Do you know how hot you are? Tiny little berserker.”

She slumped with relief and laughed. “Shit, Ollie.” She slipped her hands into his back pockets and gave his ass a possessive grope. Tipping her chin up and locking her gaze on his, she added, “She was disrespectful. I may be submissive in the bedroom, but I’m not going to let anyone insult you. If I weren’t queen, I would have given her a second chance. I would have slapped her down back at the table.”

“Well, damn, baby.” Had Kristy ever stood up for him, even once? If she had, she sure as shit couldn’t remember it.

Matt stood across the aisle, or what passed for an aisle in the current mess, seething. “Way to pick ’em, Dad.”

“Don’t start,” Ollie said. “Don’t even fucking start. Get over there by the door and dazzle these airmen so they’ll forget the shit they heard in here.”

“Dad…”

“Now, Matt.”

The surly teenager rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering disparaging remarks Ollie was going to pretend he didn’t hear.

“Dazzle them?” Tess cocked up an eyebrow.

Ollie wiped his hands clean on his jeans and swatted plaster off her clothes, paying special attention to the few minor specks of dust at the top of her cleavage. The things she’d done with those tits in his dreams… Maybe he’d get her to reenact some of it one day.

She swatted his hand and dropped her jaw. “Ollie! Dirty bird. God, I see what you’re thinking. Get your brain out of the gutter.”

“Nope.” He pulled her toward the bar. “It’s all your fault.”

“It seems everything is always my fault. Now, what were you were saying about dazzling?”

“It’s a raider thing. We can make people forget what they’ve seen.”

“So you can steal from them and make them forget it?”

“Better than killing them, baby.”

“I’m not sure if that makes it better, but I’m glad you’re not bloodthirsty murderers. That would make integrating the groups somewhat difficult.”

“You might want to keep your voice down about that.”

She shrugged. “No. No secrets. It wasn’t my goal before, but it’s obvious it needs to be done. Standing here in Fallon, I feel the brokenness in this group so much more strongly. Are you going to get in the way of me fixing it?”

Get in her way? He’d die before he held her back.

“No, baby. Fix it.”

17

“Unbelievable.” Harvey paced in front of the worktable in Ollie’s garage and yanked at his hair. “I left you alone for a few days, Tess. You couldn’t hide out for a few days?”

Tess slumped on her stool. “It was longer than a few days. It was more like ten. What did you expect me to do? Do you know how tough that is for me? I’ve spent most of my life as a loner, and now I need people around me. Both of you were gone, and I was desperate for some control. I went after the one of you who was stationary at the moment, which was Ollie.”

“You make it sound like we’re interchangeable,” Ollie said.

“Of course you’re not,” Tess said. “Not even a little.”

Harvey shook his head. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t want both of us. Did you tell him, Tess?”

“Tell me what?” Ollie asked.

Tess gave her head a hard shake and slipped off the stool. “Not now,” she projected.

“Did you tell your kids why you went to Norseton, Ollie?” Harvey asked, “Or did you tell them where you were going at all? Matt’s reaction to Tess doesn’t seem like something that would come from a person familiar with the situation.”

“I told him what he needed to know at the time, and at the time, I didn’t want to fill his head with ideas about something I didn’t know would be a sure bet.”

“But, you came to me willing to fight,” Tess said, sounding understandably piqued.

The asshole was going to rake her over the emotional coals without knowing why, and all Harvey could do was tread carefully. She didn’t want to broach the subject of their permanent arrangement just yet, and he didn’t know why. To him, it made sense they get the discussion out of the way so they can move on. Tess obviously had other plans.

“That hasn’t changed.” Ollie turned to Harvey and crossed his arms over his chest. “I haven’t pushed the issue as of yet because of all the pulls Tess has on her time right now. I don’t want to make her life, or her role, more difficult when she’s still at the bottom of the learning curve and has so many people demanding her attention. If you insist on pushing me, I will insist we lay out the terms of the challenge and resolve this ridiculous triangle once and for all.”

“Ridiculous? Maybe you want to choose your words a little more carefully, man. You’re talking about upheaval and rearranging our life for something uncertain? I did that. The day I found out that Tess was one of ours, I put everything on the back burner to help her family locate her. I didn’t even have a notion that she’d accept me as her consort, and I wasn’t about to suggest that it should be me. I changed everything in my life, though, because I wanted her to have a familiar face to look to in a sea of strangers and someone she trusted to talk to. That was before sex came into play, and you’re complaining about maybes?”

“Do you want a certificate? A trophy? Obviously you’re fishing for some kind of kudos. Well, good for you.” Ollie clapped sarcastically. “You’re alone in the world. No attachments, really, besides your fucking job. When I made my challenge, I made it knowing I could lose, and the fight could go badly. I have two sons to take care of, and if I died, I didn’t want them to know it was over a woman.”

Tess slouched. She drew into herself like a wounded little girl who’d lost all hope. Harvey hadn’t seen that little girl in a long, long time. He thought she’d gone away for good.

Fuck.

Ollie sighed. “Tess, you know I didn’t mean it like it sounds. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Really?” Harvey laughed. “For someone who’s supposed to be so tuned in to how she’s feeling, you certainly fucked that one up.”

“Stay out of it.”

Harvey shook his head. “I won’t. Even if the gods didn’t lead me to Tess five or six years ago and plant her into my dreams every night, I know with every fiber of my being that she’s meant to be mine. So, yeah, I’m going to stand up for her and run to her defense even when she doesn’t want me to—even when the rules say we defer to the queen in all things. I push her to her limits and past them because I know she’s capable of being great. It’s going to be me helping her earn her name, and I may not stand beside her with a gun or a blade, but if you get in my way, I will be dangerous.”

Ollie pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes.

Tess leveled Harvey in her stare. “I felt that. What did you just do?”

“Stay out of this one, Tess. You have to trust me to do what needs to be done.”

“Harvey, I’m going to ask you again. What did you just do?”

He turned back to Ollie without answering. Tess had her tricks, and Harvey had his. “Go on, Ollie. Go ahead and push for your challenge. Maybe we can be done and have the place cleaned up by the time your kids get back from your aunt’s.”

“That’s not the way it works,” Ollie said. Now he rubbed his temples. His eyes were going redder by the moment. The discomfort would only grow worse—that, Harvey knew for sure. What he didn’t know was how to reverse what he’d started, if it was even possible.

He’d only done this on purpose once—two years ago when the last guy tried to fuck Tess over.

“We’re modern Vikings, so it makes sense that we have new rules for hólmganga, right? Come on. They made up shit as they went along just like us. Let’s be spontaneous and get it out of the way, because like you said, being in this silly little triangle is becoming tedious.”

He increased his psychic press on Ollie, and stole a glance at Tess.

She didn’t even seem to be there. Her gaze was in their general direction, but she appeared to be looking without seeing. He found her energy in the middle of the Afótama web right where it should be, but felt nothing from her. She was either shutting him out, or she’d gone into a trance and really wasn’t there.

Well, good. If she couldn’t hear it, she wouldn’t kick his ass about it later.

“She wants to keep both of us, you know? Like, really, really keep us. She doesn’t want us to go through with a challenge.”

Ollie’s lips pressed into a flat line, and he shook his head. “I must insist on a challenge, and you should be insisting on one, as well.”

Harvey walked slowly to Tess and passed a hand in front of her eyes. She didn’t respond, not even to blink. He skimmed his thumb down her jaw and nudged her hair behind her ear. “A couple of weeks ago, I would have, but here’s the thing about being Afótama. We’re at the queen’s beck and call and we do what she wants because it’s best for all of us. Tess doesn’t ask for much.”

“No, she doesn’t. What’s your point?”

“Gods, you really have the idiot ape thing down pat. Use that evolved brain you were born with and put the pieces together.”

“I’m trying to. You’d give her whatever she wanted. I get that.”

“She wouldn’t ask me for more than I could give her, and so far, she hasn’t asked for what she wants. She hopes. I can tell she hopes.”

“What you’re suggesting is fucking insane. I’d lose the little respect I have left in this group, and what would my sons think of me?”

“Who cares about your status out here? For a group of people so scornful of rules, you seem to have a lot of hang-ups. And as far as your sons go?” Harvey shrugged again, and got in Ollie’s face. “Your job is to parent them to the best of your ability, not to impress them. If they don’t like Afótama? Fine. Their loss. If they don’t like Tess? Goddamned shame, but that’s their prerogative. As long as they show her respect, we’ll all cope just fine. I don’t give a shit about what they think about the arrangement or me. Their distaste is theirs to own and doesn’t hurt my feelings in the slightest bit. So what’s the problem, really? Are you afraid you might accidentally see my dick and like it?”

Ollie’s punch connected to Harvey’s chin with a loud crack. The pain registered on delay, and fuck, he just knew that shit was going to leave a bruise. When brought his head back upright, he caught Ollie rearing back for the second half of the one-two combo.

He ducked in time to miss it and lunged for Ollie’s midsection. He put all his weight into the push, and sent the bigger man falling backward to the floor.

Before Ollie could recover and throw him off, Harvey increased that mental squeeze on him, and this time it was him who threw the punch. Ollie’s nose crunched under his fist, and instead of being joyful at his aim, he regretted having made the blow. Tess liked that guy’s face, and Harvey had just broken it.

She was going to be mad. He hated making her mad.

Ollie growled, and grabbed Harvey’s ponytail. He yanked it forcefully, and clamped his free hand around Harvey’s neck when it was exposed.

He squeezed it hard, but Harvey wasn’t going to squirm for him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. This was about conceding. If Tess could do it, so could Ollie.

“I don’t give a fuck about your dick,” Ollie said.

Harvey couldn’t talk with the other man’s hand around his throat, he said telepathically, “It’s not your job to give a fuck. It’s Tess’s. I’m confident enough in my manhood that I’m not put off by her needing two men. You are.”

Ollie squeezed tighter, and Harvey directed wave after wave of psychic garbage at him. Ollie loosened his grip to cover his head—as if that would stop what ailed him—and Harvey used that opportunity to slam his elbow into Ollie’s chest.

That got the other man off him, but being the warrior that he was, Ollie recovered fast. He lunged at Harvey as Harvey did the same at him, and things became a blur. Punches landed, sure, and there was some pain, but Harvey’s body seemed to be moving of its own volition—his self-defense programming kicking in on high gear. Ollie seemed to be operating in much the same fashion.

There was no passion, really, just a fuckload of bruising. Even if they wanted to stop now, they couldn’t. Someone had to win…and Harvey had to make his point.

“Stop it.” Tess picked up a glass jar filled with nuts and bolts and threw it. It shattered at their feet, and though they both paused to observe the cause of the sound, after moving a few inches back, they resumed swinging.

Harvey managed to connect with the side of Ollie’s face, and Ollie rewarded him for that with a knee to the gut.

“You should have listened the first time,” Tess said, and her voice was so solemn, Harvey dropped his fists and turned to her.

Disgust was plain on her face, and defeat sagged her shoulders. He’d disappointed her, but what choice had he had? He’d had no desire to get into an epic pissing match with one of Thor’s favored brutes, but he’d had to make the man understand he wasn’t going to be passive, and that he was going to do everything in his power to give Tess what she needed. That happened to be the both of them.

The vibration in his head started as a low hum—a minor annoyance, much like a fly buzzing in his ear. It was painless, but unusual enough that he knew it wasn’t natural. He caught Ollie tugging at his earlobe, so the other man must have been just as perplexed by it as Harvey.

The vibration got louder, as loud as the hiss of an air conditioner.

But, air conditioners didn’t make people’s faces go numb and tongues heavy.

He tried to shape her name with his mouth, but his lips were too tight.

The vibration grew loud as a motorcycle engine, and reverberated in Harvey’s head like a Ping-Pong ball against walls in a room far too small for the game. Self-preservation would have him covering his head and trying to get away from the source of the sound, but he couldn’t move. His feet were leaden, and besides, the noise was in his own head. He suspected that Tess could send the pain along with him to wherever he decided to go if he did manage to get away.

He shifted his gaze over to Ollie—the only movement he could manage—and his anguish was clear, though whether it was from the pressure in his head or from hurting Tess, Harvey couldn’t speculate.

The vibration became louder still, and Harvey had no words to describe what it was and how it sounded. It battered at his brain like a powerful hurricane, and everything that wasn’t stiff and numb in his body was battered from the inside out from the assault. He felt like that violent hurricane was made of tacks and nails, and they wanted out of him.

And he’d let them out any way he could if it’d make the pain stop. He’d cut them out of himself if he could, but he couldn’t move, and could hardly think.

The only thing he could process as the pain pushed him down to his knees was that she hadn’t wanted to do this, but just like Harvey had to make Ollie understand where they stood, Tess had to do the same thing.

There was a reason why their women called the shots, and there was a reason why the Afótama had a healthy fear of Muriel, who was as famous for her kindness as for her station. Muriel needed her own defenses to protect that big heart of hers, and obviously Tess had inherited some of her own.

He felt an odd mix of pride and fear at his queen finding her power. She could break him, if she wanted, and maybe he deserved it.

She released her hold on them, and Harvey’s body betrayed him. He fell face-first onto the concrete floor and couldn’t compel his body to move, not even when Tess’s boot heels clicked past his head and toward the door.

He couldn’t push enough breath through his body to say her name, and couldn’t reach out to her telepathically, either.

She was shutting him out, but maybe she had to for the good of them all. Afótama couldn’t cause harm to their mates without enduring an emotional blowback. Even though they’d fucking deserved it, she now suffered for it.

Fuck.

“Gotta fix this,” Harvey said when his tongue’s clamp loosened.

Ollie didn’t say anything for a long while.

Harvey picked his head up a few painful inches and turned it toward him. Ollie was shaking, but he’d convinced his body to sit up.

Warriors. He was impressive, and Harvey had to admit it. The gods saw fit to push the groups back together after all those centuries, and it made good sense they’d match her to someone stronger and far more malleable than his peers. If Tess had to have any of them, Ollie was the best.

“Yeah, we’ve got to fix it,” Ollie said finally. He rubbed his eyes and exhaled sharply. “Or at least try. I’ve always been good at fixing things, but I think this may be beyond my skill set.”

“But not mine. I’m the tactician of the two of us.”

“Two heads are better than one, I suppose.”

The double entendre wasn’t lost on him. “Are you agreeing, then?” Harvey tried to flex his toes inside his shoes and found they wiggled. His body was communicating with his brain again, though he felt numb all over as if he were under some sort of partial anesthesia. He managed to pull his knees under him and get up on all fours.

“I suppose I am. Look. I want what’s right for Tess. I want to give her what she needs.”

“We both do.”

“Yeah, but what you don’t understand is that my late wife was an adulteress. It’s hard to wrap this around my head. It feels like the right thing for Tess, but it makes me flash back to all those years of being cheated on. I don’t want to be in that place again. It’s a low place for folks like us.”

“Tess fought for you. You really think she’d hurt you on purpose?”

Ollie grunted. “No. I don’t. In fact, I think she’s holding some heavy shit back because she doesn’t want to hurt me.” He cringed. “Us.”

Harvey used the workbench’s edge to pull up, and leaned against it while he caught his breath. “That scare you?”

“A little. I’ll deal, though. You?”

“Same.”

“You understand that this is weird, right? We’re going to take a lot of shit for it, right at a time when Tess is trying to purge the built-up anxiety from the web.”

“Honestly, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that for much longer. As far as public opinion goes, for the time being I don’t see a problem with us carrying on as we have been. No one but a few insiders in Norseton know the particulars about our relationships. They expect Tess to take a consort, but there’s no urgent need for it as long as they believe she’s acting effectively as our conduit. People will feel comfortable enough to start pairing off again, and by the time anyone realizes what’s happening in Tess’s household, no one will care enough to do anything about it. When people are happy at home, other people’s business becomes less of their own concern.”

“I hope that’s true.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Ollie lifted his gaze from the floor and pinned it on Harvey. “Then my boys are going to have a rough time of it.”

“We’ll keep them buffered.”

“We, huh?”

“We. That’s the only way this’ll work. You have a relationship with Tess, and I have one. I benefit from her being happy. If that means minimizing stress on your side of the triangle, I’m willing to do what I can. I hope you’d do the same for me.”

Ollie didn’t say anything, just stared.

Harvey would have paid handsomely to have that psychic tether to him just to know what the other man was feeling. Ollie had to know what Harvey was feeling, because that was one of his gifts, just like stripping memories. He’d watched him at the bar, and Ollie’s ease at the task had made Harvey’s jaw drop. He was so casual, and yet gentle. Matt had been far more clinical about it. He’d made all those airmen forget, but they left disoriented. They walked out thinking they’d had too much to drink. Ollie’s charges, though, had left laughing. They believed they’d been in a damned good fight and won it. It took a good guy to make the extra effort without being asked, and that was exactly what Tess needed.

“Yes, I would,” Ollie said finally.

“Come on. Let’s go see if se can catch up to her.” Harvey pushed away from the table and stopped upon feeling the warm wetness on his chest. Bright red blood trailed down his button-up shirt. He wiped the blood from his nose and reached for a clean-enough shop rag.

“Might want to stop by the hospital first. I think I have bone fragments in my sinuses.”

Ollie slapped him on the back as they walked to the door. “You can really take a punch, man.”

“And land one, too. Sorry about your face.”

“Not sorry about yours. Told you I’d fix that pretty problem.”

“Dick.”

“Nope. Viking.”

18

Tess pulled the pillow over her head to block out the motel room’s light and the sound of her cousin’s voice. That didn’t stop Nadia from talking. She just talked louder, and occasionally lifted the corner of the pillow to make sure Tess caught particularly salient points.

“Stop blocking me out!” Nadia shouted.

“Am I allowed no privacy at all?”

“Minutes here and there. The longer you go offline, the more panicked everyone gets. You’re going to have to figure out how to quiet the buzz without shutting the gate all the fucking way down. I know Ótama told you that you were doing it wrong, but this is overkill, cuz. The folks need their conduit.”

“The folks will have to cope.”

“Okay, you’re in a shitty mood and I get that, but you have to persevere for the sake of duty. Be pissed all you want, but handle business at the same time. No one expects you to be cheerful all the time.”

“I could have killed them, Nadia. I know I could have—the power was right there within my reach, and I was so angry.”

“But you didn’t. You knew when to walk away.”

She had known, but actually walking had been a difficult thing. Like Ótama had said, she needed to find the end of the thing, and she did. The end was scary. She’d wanted to make both Ollie and Harvey understand just how foolish they were, and she was sick of being ignored. She wanted to drive home the point so it was clear as day. She wasn’t going to put up with infighting within her own fucking inner circle. Ótama had, figuratively, shaken some sense into her during the men’s confrontation.

She’d said, “Make them prove they could rule on their own, or else they will always be only consorts, never chieftains.”

The ghost had been right, of course. Sometimes when she was around them, she became too passive for her own good. It was one thing to give up control in bedroom. She liked having someone else in charge of her pleasure, but out in public, she had to have a grip on the reins.

There was a balance to power, and it changed with every encounter. She needed to learn how to ride it.

She sighed and pushed the pillow off her head. “All right. Who is this guy who wants to talk to me?”

“Guys,” Nadia corrected. “And don’t give me the fuzzy eyeball treatment when I tell you. I’m serious as a heart attack.”

“Oh, shit. That doesn’t bode well.”

Nadia waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just an introductory meeting. I’m sure they’re harmless.”

“You’re sure, huh?” Tess hadn’t planned on this trip turning into a diplomatic function. She’d just wanted to see her man.

Fat lot of good that had done her.

“Trust me,” Nadia said.

Tess guffawed. “That’s what you said right after you told me we’d be able to fly out of here no problem.”

It turned out that they couldn’t get a flight out until morning, and Tess hadn’t been up to driving into the next big city. She wanted to lay around feeling sorry for herself, which was a luxury she hadn’t been afforded in far too long.

“Look at the positives, queenie,” Nadia said.

Tess rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll continue to do so because it makes me laugh. But as I said, look at the positives. You may be stuck here overnight, but being in the area put you into the path of someone I think you’ll really want to have at your back if push comes to shove.”

“Like Ollie and Harvey, my supposed helpmates?”

“I will pistol-whip you and feel no remorse, so help me, gods.”

Tess put up her hands. “Fine. Tell me who they are and show them in.” She slid off the side of the bed and patted down her gnarly hair in the dresser mirror.

“Heath Horan, crown prince of the Sídhe, and his commander Thom.”

Tess stopped patting, and eyed Nadia warily through the glass. “Say what, now?”

Nadia already had her hand on the doorknob. “Fairies, but don’t let them hear you calling them that. You’ve got to be careful with the Fae, queenie. You never know what kind of grudges they’re holding from way back when. Some ancestor may have pissed them off royally five hundred years ago, and now they have a chance to seek their revenge with you.” She wriggled her eyebrows.

“If you’re trying to be reassuring, you fucking suck at it.” This was where having Harvey around came in handy. He navigated her through the diplomatic shit with far more aplomb than she could manage on her own. Hell, having Ollie around for the muscle right about now would have been a hell of a balm for her frayed nerves.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left them crumpled on the floor like that. Her heart had broken seeing the anguish on their faces as she sent that surge of power through them, but what else could she do? Keep shouting only for them to not listen? She’d made them listen, and now she was paying the price for it.

What if they didn’t come back?

“I doubt they’ll try anything,” Nadia said. “It would be a political nightmare if they did. The last thing they need is to piss off the Afótama queen knowing you’re favored by the gods and blah-blah. We do share a few gods, so it’s in their best interest to be cordial.”

“Favored by the gods, my ass. Show them in.”

“You got it, queenie.” Nadia opened the door, walked to the railing, and shouted down to the parking lot, “Come on up, boys.”

Tess sat on the frayed plaid armchair in the corner and folded her hands atop her lap. Then she realized how that must have looked, all prim and proper when she was anything but. She settled for placing her arms atop the rests. Her heart pounded as heavy footsteps thundered up the exterior stairwell, mingled with masculine murmurs.

They seemed calm enough. Maybe this off-schedule meeting wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Nadia entered the room, and regardless of the angst she’d wasted on finding the perfect sitting position, Tess immediately stood when the men crossed the threshold.

“Holy hell,” she said.

“I believe that’s an oxymoron,” the man with short hair said. His grin told her he found the greeting far too amusing.

They didn’t have pointed ears or ethereal light emanating from their skins, but even knowing what they were, Tess wondered how anyone could think they were normal men. The hues of their eyes were too rich for the human spectrum. Although the men were kind of pretty, they were also kind of greasy. Some women liked that shit. In all that motorcycle leather, they were nice to look at, but they didn’t stir anything in her the way her men did.

She wrung her hands on her lap and pulled at the silks of the psychic web. Harvey’s thoughts were on bandages and gauze, Ollie’s on his swollen knuckles. Hopefully, they wouldn’t refuse her offer of comfort when she saw them…assuming they came to her. She’d hurt them as badly as they’d hurt each other. She couldn’t blame them if they stayed away.

The man with the short hair stepped in, pushed open the bathroom door, and turned on the light. He scanned inside and then stepped farther into the bedroom. He looked at each corner, then approached the beds. He gestured to them. “Hopefully you won’t be offended if I look beneath?”

Tess shrugged. “Go ahead.”

He looked under both, and turned to the other man—the one with the long black hair hanging in his face—and shook his head.

“You two are really here alone?” the one Tess now assumed was Heath asked. He pushed his hair behind his ears and Tess could now see his raised eyebrows. “Are you bloody insane? Where’s your man? Where are your guards?”

“Why would you assume I have either?” Tess asked. She put her hands on her hips and turned to the chair.

“I know the way it works, love. The queen always has guards, because anyone who gets to the queen can upset the entire collective.”

Tess plopped into the chair and crossed her legs. “Did you hear that, Nadia? I’ve apparently become queen of The Borg.”

Her cousin snorted. “I’d say you’ve got the resistance is futile thing down pat, given what you did a few hours ago.”

Tess’s stomach lurched.

Heath crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall near the bathroom. “Dead serious. I know a lot more about some of the despicable things that go on in this world than you do. I’ve been around a very long time. I already know you’re a different sort of queen than your grandmother, because your grandmother wouldn’t have met with me like this. She would have had her aide tell Thom to make an appointment, and then I’d have to pass the muster of her consort. Your grandfather never let me get close, so I gave up trying.”

“I didn’t grow up with my family.”

He nodded. “So I’ve heard. Really, I just wanted to introduce myself, or try to, since I was in town. Bit of unsolicited advice, love—don’t travel alone. I’m sure your aide is quite capable, but…” He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked at Thom. “There are a lot of unsavory characters around here. Lawlessness is one thing, and I can certainly appreciate the drive to be free of structure, but these people have gone so long without purpose and guidance, that they can be unpredictable.”

“So we’ve noticed,” Nadia said. “But we appreciate the warning.”

A loud knock on the door had Tess clutching her chest, Nadia reaching for her knife, and Thom moving fast as light to get between Heath and the opening.

Thom put his hand on the knob and checked the peephole.

“Probably overkill, guys,” Tess said. “It might just be some drunk who locked himself out of his room and thinks this one is his.”

Thom guffawed and opened the door. “What the fuck are you doing here, man?”

Tess craned her neck to see whom he was talking to, and her heart fluttered when a bruised and bandaged Ollie stepped into the room and did one of those complicated, rehearsed handshakes with Thom, and then gave Heath a man-hug.

“I could ask you the same question,” he said.

Harvey stepped into the room after him, owning a few more stitches and bandages than the other man, and looking rather chagrined. He walked straight to Tess and pulled her against him. “What the hell are you doing, letting strange men in? And why’d you leave?”

What? She’d expected that their next encounter would start with a fight about what happened in Ollie’s garage, and what she’d done to them. What she’d done was unforgivable for so many reasons. She’d lost control.

She opened herself back up to the Afótama web and tugged on its silks yet again, smoothing its edges down in her mind.

There was Harvey, front and center waiting for her, and his thoughts weren’t of anger, but of regret. He thought this was his fault. Maybe it was in some ways, but Tess hadn’t played nice, either. She’d used excessive force because she only wanted to have to use it once. She wanted them to know the taste of it so they’d learn to combat it, if need ever arose.

“We stopped by the Longship on our way out of Fallon,” Thom said. “Place was a fuckin’ mess, and we asked why. Jeff said the Afótama queen was in town, and some of the ladies had their panties bunched over it. We asked around to see if she was still here, and of course, you all own half the town, so finding her wasn’t all that hard.”

“Fuck,” Nadia muttered.

Heath nodded. “Like I said, the queen always has guards. Perhaps now you understand why.”

Harvey wrapped his arms around Tess’s shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.

Tess wrapped her hands around his and let relief wash over her.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Heath pushed his hair back again. “Heath Horan, prince of the Sídhe high court. That guy by the door is my lieutenant Thom. We go way back with Oliver.”

Ollie grunted. “Yeah, I do a little work for them here and there. I tune up their bikes whenever they’re in the area.”

“Oh, ho ho.” Heath thumped Ollie on the shoulder and flopped onto the corner of Nadia’s bed. “The bloke’s always undervaluing himself. He does a lot more than fixing our bikes. Have you ever seen this guy swing an axe?” He whistled and shook his head. “None of my boys fight like this guy. None of the girls, either.”

“Ha ha,” Ollie said.

“It’s true. I’m not old enough to have seen your kind before they left Europe, but I can’t imagine they’d be any more terrifying.”

“I’m a big old teddy bear, and you know it.” Ollie chuckled and moved farther into the room, closer to Tess.

She expected Harvey to project some offense at his proximity, or Ollie his, but neither did. If they were thinking any black thoughts about the other, they were doing it subconsciously.

“That’s high praise coming from a man who can suck off people’s life force,” Ollie said.

Heath shrugged. “Only if I can get them to hold still long enough. So, what are you doing here? Wanted to see the queen for yourself?”

Ollie grunted a no and pulled Tess free from Harvey.

He let her go, and when she turned to him with a questioning look, he just grinned at her.

She didn’t trust that grin one little bit.

“Tess is mine,” Ollie said. “Why else would she come to this dump? It’s not exactly a prime vacation spot.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” Thom said.

Ollie shook his head. “I’m as serious as a heart attack.”

“Then what about that guy?”

Harvey took the uncomfortable chair in the corner and crossed his legs at the knees. “She’s mine, too.”

“Uh… I’ll just stand here and wait for the other shoe to drop. Don’t mind me,” Tess muttered.

“Keep waiting,” Nadia projected. “The Fae have very open ideas about sex and relationships. If there’s anyone who wouldn’t give a shit, it’d be them.”

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Nah. It’s more entertaining for me to see you get surprised by stuff.”

“When we get back to Norseton, we’re going to work on getting you a life.”

Nadia flicked a certain finger at her cousin and offered a gamine smile.

“You son of a bitch, good for you,” Heath said after picking his jaw up off the floor. “I always did tell you to aim high if you were going to bother at all. Hey, maybe she’ll take me up on that favor, then?” Heath said.

Ollie shook his head. “Forget the favor. You needed help, and I gave it to you. You don’t owe me anything for that.”

“I’m Sídhe. Come on, I make good on my debts, and you turned the tide for us in that fight. You didn’t have to stick your neck out like you did. If you won’t let me repay the debt to you, then she can take it.”

Heath skirted around Ollie and made eye contact with Tess. “I owe you a boon. You’ll help me balance the scales, won’t you?”

“What exactly did he do for you?”

Ollie gave her a squeeze. “Not important.”

Heath’s brow furrowed. “Was so important. Look, love, I’m in charge of this gang and we’re in charge of keeping order in secret communities like ours. Whenever people go rogue or do things that threaten to make our world public, we get dispatched to deal with it. For Sídhe of a certain age, it’s a mandatory service period.” He sputtered his eyes and added in a mumble, “Gonna abolish that shit as soon as I take the throne.”

Tess wondered when exactly that would be, because she suspected he was a hell of a lot older than he looked. How long did the Fae live, anyway?

“Listen, Ollie lends us a hand every now and then. I would beg him to come on full-time if it weren’t for the boys. You’d be taking away a lot of my angst by letting me do you a favor.”

“Angsty fairy,” Tess whispered. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Not everything,” Ollie whispered back, and there was a thread of warning in it that made her wonder if she actually wanted to hear what he was saving up for her. She eyed Harvey, and he nodded. She could make some good come of this partnership.

“Maybe you can do me a small favor,” she said to Heath.

“There are no small favors to the Daoine Sídhe,” Ollie said.

Heath blew his hair from his face. “And people say fairies are dramatic. Tell me what you need, love, before your man tosses me out on my arse.”

“And you’re so fucking close to it, Heath.”

Heath made a very unprincely gesture at Ollie and bore a charming smile as he did it. He and Nadia were apparently cut from the same cloth. She must have noticed it, too.

“I like you, Heath,” she said.

“Thank you.” He bowed.

Tess groaned. “Okay. You get around a lot, I’m guessing?”

Heath nodded.

“Had you heard that many of us were abducted starting around thirty years ago?”

“I had heard. I would have helped investigate if your grandmother had asked me to.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t have anything to lose by doing so, and I was too young to remember anything.”

“No problem, love. Give us, oh, a few weeks to see what shakes out. Shall we visit you at Norseton?”

“I think that would be best.”

“Great. Let the ogre at the gates know we’re coming, will you? They always act like we’re going to move in and trash the place.”

“You mean like that one time?” Ollie asked, voice deadpan.

Heath’s thump on Ollie’s back was probably meant to be consoling. “Better prepare the rooms.”

Oh boy.

Heath and Thom took their leave, and Ollie spun Tess around so she faced him.

“Got any more surprises for me?” she asked.

“A few. Do you have any more for us?”

“Look, I thought you both deserved it at the time.”

“Oh, we absolutely did,” Harvey said. “Even if we’d known you were capable of it, we still would have been assholes. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“So, you’re just going to forgive me for it?”

“It was my queen’s prerogative to enforce order in the matter she saw fit,” Ollie whispered into her right ear. He skimmed his hands down her arms and a surge of anticipation settled into her core.

Were they really going to do this?

Harvey stood and lifted her hair from her neck on her left side. He kissed the crook between her neck and shoulder, and up to her jaw.

She squirmed between the two of them, so aroused, and yet so embarrassed at her body’s rapid response. In front of an audience, to boot.

Nadia pointed to the door. “Hey, know what? I’m going to give you a good night’s sleep. You’ve been listening to me grind my teeth for days, and you probably deserve a break. There are plenty of open rooms. I’ll go get one.”

Tess opened her mouth to rebut—it was Nadia’s room, too, and putting her out seemed selfish—but Harvey kissed her. He invaded her mouth and teased her tongue into submission while pulling her against him.

The door clicked closed behind Nadia, and Ollie worked his hands up the back of Tess’s shirt. She loved the rough feel of them. Their gentle rasps sent titillating frissons to her already aching sex, and she remembered how good they’d felt when they’d been inside her weeks ago. He’d stoked her into a heated frenzy it’d taken days to come down from.

And then there was Harvey at her front. He nudged down her bra and flicked her nipples with his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” she asked one or both. It didn’t really matter who answered, as long as at least one of them was had the correct head screwed on straight. They’d tried to kill each other a few hours ago, so their close proximity now struck Tess as highly suspect.

“Worshiping you,” Ollie said. He unhooked her bra, and Harvey took advantage of her breasts’ freedom by palming them.

“I-I don’t think so,” she said. She told her feet to get moving—to get away from them and their mouths and hands, but instead, her head fell back to give Harvey greater access to her neck and throat. Her back bowed and ass ground against Ollie’s thighs. He was so damned tall, that was all she could reach. Her brain said walk, but her body wasn’t having it.

“Why not?” Harvey asked. “I thought this was what you wanted, sweetheart.”

“It is what I wanted. What I want, but…” She batted Harvey’s roving hands away only for Ollie to put his where Harvey’s had been. “Quit it, or I’ll steamroll you both, and you know I can.”

The men paused, as if they needed to think about the warning, and slowly peeled their hands off.

“Good choice.” Tess ducked out from between them, and her traitorous legs wobbled like JELL-O beneath her. She managed to make it to her bed before collapsing under the weight of her lust.

They started toward her, and she held up a finger in warning.

“Less touching, more talking.”

“Talking is what got us into trouble last time,” Harvey said and Ollie nodded in agreement.

“Real cute,” Tess said. She crossed her arms over her peaked nipples. Her body may have been inviting them to touch, but for now, she needed her brain to have the upper hand. As long as they stayed away from her, she should be fine.

Harvey adjusted his bulge, grinning at her, and she had to close her eyes.

“I’m going to talk, and you two are going to listen. No butting in, no touching. Those are the rules, simple though they are. If either of you chooses to break them, I’m walking out and bunking with my shin-bruising cousin. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“Fine.” She opened her eyes and gestured to the two chairs on either side of the room. Maybe they needed to stay away from each other, too. For all she knew, they were plotting amongst themselves as she spoke.

Harvey retook the armchair near the window, and Ollie took the desk chair close to the bathroom.

“Okay. First of all, you two look like so very much shit. Ollie, you’re supposed to be spawn of He-Man. How did Harvey manage to get that many blows in?”

Ollie cleared his throat and cut his gaze to Harvey. “He gave me the worst damn migraine ever, and I don’t mean little pansy headache. I mean light-hurts-my-skin agony.”

Tess saw her startled expression in the mirror across from her, and immediately smoothed it off because she was very unattractive when her eyes bulged like that. She snapped her fingers at Harvey, who was busy studying his bruised knuckles. “Is that new?”

“Not exactly. I’ve had the proclivity for a very long time, but the talent strengthened right around the time you stepped into the queen role. Your uncle told me it’s typical.”

“In what way?”

“Most Afótama have latent gifts they just don’t know how to manifest. We’re all telepathic to more or less the same degree, but there are also secondary abilities that have pretty much all died out. It’s in all the literature. I’ll summarize it for you when you have time, or maybe Ótama will fill you in.”

“I suspect Ótama will have her visitation privileges revoked soon for being a mouthy little ghostie, but let’s not get distracted, here. You’re a migraine machine?”

“I guess that’s a good way to put it. The skill got stronger when you took me as a consort. Joe says its because the people nearest the queen need to be the strongest.”

“If that’s true, then Nadia should be demonstrating epic-caliber scariness.” Not that Nadia needed any help with that.

“Give it time,” Harvey said.

Tess turned to Ollie. “And what about you? Got anything to share, axe man?”

He shook his head. “I’m a warrior, remember? Psychic warfare was never a part of our skill set, beyond the memory erasure thing. Most of the fancy shit is unique to you Afótama.”

“You need to figure out a way to become proof to the fancy shit. You may not always be able to keep swinging through it if you’re being assaulted from every direction.” Or if Tess lost control again…no, when, she lost control again.

“I’ll work with him,” Harvey said. “It’s very specific part of the brain. Once you isolate it and know it’s a weak spot, there are things you can do to seal it off.”

“You’ll work with him?” She didn’t bother disguising her incredulity, because again—they’d tried to kill each other just hours ago. Harvey shouldn’t have been concerned about Ollie’s wellbeing, not even a little bit.

“Yes, Tess. I’ll help him.”

“Excuse my skepticism, but, why?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Because the people nearest the queen have to be the strongest?”

“Don’t throw my words back at me.” She stood and walked to Ollie. He raked his hungry gaze up her body, and by the time it reached her eyes, she was hot all over. How the man could affect her with just a glance, she had no idea. Maybe he was holding out on them and had some magic after all.

He lifted his hands as if he were going to pull her closer by the thighs, but dropped them when Harvey whistled.

Ollie cringed.

“Interesting. You two were all about hólmganga earlier, so what’s going on?”

“I changed my mind,” Ollie said. “The challenge isn’t necessary.”

“I’ve known that all along, but I’m skeptical of quick about-faces. What made you change your mind? Don’t tell me it because you beat the shit out of each other and got it out of your systems.”

He shook his head. “No, not that. Listen, Tess. I brought some baggage into the relationship with me, and I don’t mean my boys. We’re supposed to be incapable of cheating, but I married a woman who refused to be true. I couldn’t tell she was lying, Tess, and that’s one of my few gifts. I know you’re nothing like her, but seeing you with Harvey was difficult for me because I felt like I did as a younger man every time I heard about another one of Kristy’s men. I never felt more powerless…ashamed. It’s easy to feel like you’re not enough man when you’re in that sort of relationship.”

“Shit.” No wonder this was so hard for him. Afótama were supposed to be unable to cheat, and she imagined it should have been the same amongst his group. She couldn’t conceive of stepping out on her boys, or even looking at anyone that way. Why would she go looking when she already had everything she needed?

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know I want you, but I have to ask. Can you be tolerant of me having and needing two men? There’s no room for jealousy in this relationship.”

“I understand that, Tess. I’m not going to pretend this is easy for me, because it’s not. All those old burns come back up to the surface when I’m feeling shut out. I see how happy he makes you.”

“But, you make me happy, too.”

“I know, baby. That’s why I’m here. I know what you feel for me. You never make me feel like I’m the other man. Hell, you fought over me.” He grinned. “My hang-ups are all my own.”

“You’re tied for first place.”

“I like that.”

“Not more than me. Trust me. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

The way a man of nearly forty could grin like that and make Tess think “boyish” would never cease to amaze her.

He hissed and wiped a bead of blood off his split lip. It must have cracked when he smiled.

“You two are falling apart at the seams, and yet you wanted to have sex?”

Harvey slumped down in his chair and put his head over the backrest. “Sex has healing qualities.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re right. It would have made me feel better, though. The painkillers urgent care prescribed are utter garbage.”

“I think you two are probably experiencing a testosterone crash from the fight, and you’ll be at each other’s throat’s again in a few hours. As much as I’d love to be in the middle of a yummy Viking sandwich tonight, it ain’t happening.” She dropped Ollie’s hands and walked to her overnight bag. She riffled through it and pulled out her comfy, shabby nightshirt.

“I’m going to go sleep with Nadia. You two stay here. Or not. Whatever. If you’re still on speaking terms in the morning, come find me. And don’t forget.” She poked Ollie’s shoulder. “I’ll know if you’re faking it.”

She waved goodbye as the two men stared after her, flabbergasted.

Tess had turned down sex? She could hardly believe it herself, but apparently, being queen meant having to make difficult decisions. It meant having to bide her time to make doubly sure that her choices were the right ones.

She shut the door behind her and headed for the stairs. She knew without a shadow of doubt that Harvey and Ollie would stick—that they’d both be hers, and they’d be tolerant of each other. But, that wasn’t enough. They needed to also be friends, because if they ever had to come to the aid of the other, she wanted there to be no hesitation. And as true friends, they’d come to understand each other in such a way that there’d be no jealousy about their sharing arrangement. It wasn’t going to always be fair, but they both needed to understand that it was for the best.

She’d be damned if she’d let either “pull a Tess.” Running away was what cowards did.

19

Tess felt the solid mattress give out from beneath her, and struggled to clear her sleep-fogged vision. And then she was tossed over some solid thing and moved briskly away from the bed.

“What the hell?”

She blinked rapidly and her vision cleared, treating her to the view of a muscled back and perfectly taut ass in sagging jeans.

She inhaled deeply as he carried her outside into the pale morning light, and savored his familiar, earthy scent. “Where are we going?”

They passed sleepy Nadia who stood at the door with one hand on the handle.

“You said if we were on speaking terms in the morning to come find you,” Ollie said. “Well, we didn’t kill each other overnight.” He started up the stairs two at a time, bouncing Tess on his shoulder with each enthusiastic step. “In fact, we stayed up watching cop dramas on TBS and bemoaning the dearth of twenty-four-hour fried chicken joints in Fallon.”

“You haven’t slept?”

“Nope.”

“How’d you find me? Did you knock on every door and wake the entire motel up?”

“Nope.” He pushed the ajar door to Tess’s former room and carried Tess past Harvey on the right bed to the left one. He dropped her gracelessly on it and retreated to the door.

Harvey leaned against the headboard in his rumpled street clothes wearing a shit-eating grin.

Ollie locked the door, and said, “I’ll always be able to find you when you’re nearby and I know to look, baby. You’re Afótama. You should be able to track, but you probably haven’t isolated that particular skill yet.” When he turned to her, his smile was predatory. She’d seen sharks with smiles like that, and they were never up to any good.

“Um.” She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and cleared her throat. “So, what’s the plan for today? Aren’t your boys expecting you at home, Ollie? Harvey, did you already arrange for your flight back to New Mexico?”

Ollie approached the bedside and unfastened his jeans.

Her eyes fixed on his hypnotizing swell. He’d gone from zero to sixty in about three seconds. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She’d try to be authoritative, but her voice came out sounding very small.

“No, I’m not expected at home,” he said. “My dear aunt is trying to get her quality time in with the boys before we move.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She nodded, and not so much in response to his statement, but because she was entering some sort of pre-coital shock. She’d wanted this—to have them both at the same time—but the now logistical aspects were frightening. Who’d go where? Or maybe more precisely, who’d go where and when?

“Mm-hmm.” He stepped out of the jeans and nudged them aside. “She’s old school.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Her gaze tracked down his naked chest to the cock hanging heavily in his boxers as he crawled toward her.

“It is. I mean old school as in the old ways and not conservative old school. She prayed that I would have a second chance, apparently starting way back before my wife died.”

“Yikes.” Tess had been leaning back onto her elbows, but Ollie poised over her on all fours. He was practically in her face, and she only had two choices, really: kiss him or lie back.

She chose the latter, because kissing would lead to other things, and knowing these two men, quickly. Harvey remained on his bed for the moment, and she wanted him to stay there for a while longer.

“Not yikes,” Ollie said. “She thinks it’s a good, sound match, and I happen to agree.”

Oh. “Does she, uh…” Tess gulped. “Know about our arrangement?”

“Mm-hmm.” He lowered his large frame over her and skimmed the tip of his nose along her jaw.

She let out a breathy sigh as he kissed that sweet spot just under her chin.

“Yes, baby. She knows now, and she’ll keep her mouth shut about it until I tell her otherwise.”

Tess allowed herself one little touch—a skimming of her hand over his grown-out buzz cut. She loved that there was something soft on a man so strong, and wondered if it’d be blond or brown if it were grown out.

“It’s brown,” he said. He nudged her legs apart and settled his big body between them.

“You caught that, huh?”

He didn’t answer her, unless leaning in for a toe-curling kiss counted as communication.

She closed her eyes and hooked her right leg around his thighs. Rolling her hips up, she ground against him and moaned into his mouth. She’d foregone panties, as usual, so there was just one thin layer of fabric between them.

The quiet chafing of fabric against skin at her left made her open her eyes. Harvey stood beside the bed looking down at them as he unfastened his second cuff. He tossed his shirt to the floor, along with his undershirt, and had that glint in his eyes Tess knew all too well. It was the I’m in charge twinkle that always titillated her, but…all those other times, Ollie hadn’t been in the room.

If he went too far, the two men would be at each other’s throats again, and she didn’t want to be a witness to it. She had tacitly agreed to submit to him, but Ollie was under no such arrangement.

“Stand her up,” Harvey said.

Ollie didn’t immediately comply. He deepened his kiss and fucked her mouth so thoroughly with his tongue that her pussy quivered, aching to be treated to a similar treat. Right now, she didn’t care who filled it, as long as someone did.

Ollie backed off her, but grabbed her hands. He pulled her with him over the edge of the bed and stood her between him and Harvey. Ollie’s cock pressed against her back as his hot mouth seared a burning trail down the side of her neck.

Harvey’s fingers worked at his belt buckle, and Tess dragged her tongue across her lips. The men definitely weren’t shy. It was one thing to strip nude in a locker room because the unwritten code said you kept your gaze above the shoulders, and if you happened to catch a glimpse, you didn’t make a big deal of it. But it was another thing entirely to be nude in front of another man and be expected to perform.

Harvey grasped her chin and tilted it upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Keep your eyes up here.”

The bratty part of her wanted to ask, “And if I don’t?” just to see how he’d react, but she kept her mouth shut for Ollie’s benefit. He’d need to be slowly introduced to the way she and Harvey played, and to understand that Harvey knew her limits.

Harvey grabbed the bottom of her nightshirt and pulled it up, and Tess kept her gaze straight ahead.

Ollie helped him pull it over her head, and then she was naked. The only one naked. Her compulsion was to cover everything she could with her hands, but before she could attempt it, Harvey grabbed her wrists and pushed them together behind her back.

“Hold these, please,” he said to Ollie.

Ollie took them without hesitating, but leaned down to whisper, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “I like it.”

“Good to know.”

She heard the rasp of Harvey’s zipper unfurling, and no matter how badly she wanted to, she didn’t look down. He pushed down his pants, and she didn’t know if he were completely nude now like her, or if he’d kept on his shorts. If he’d shed everything, that meant he wouldn’t keep her on the edge for long. She hoped he wouldn’t keep her waiting, because she was so hungry for his touch. Their touches. She didn’t want to think, just feel.

Harvey pushed his knee between her legs and nudged them shoulder-width apart. He slid his fingers into her slit and swirled them. “Lights are on. How do you feel about that?”

She pushed up onto her toes and hissed when he pressed his thumb against her thumb. “I-I was trying not to think about it.”

“Eyes up here,” he said, and tipped her sagging chin back up. “I want you to get out of your own head, and I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. Nod if you’re listening.”

She nodded.

“Although I’d love to see you fucked into a delirium by both of us at the same time, we’re not doing that today. That’ll come later when we’re all settled in. Still listening?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Make no mistake, we’re going to touch you all over, and you’re going give yourself up to us freely, aren’t you?”

She nodded once more, probably with far too much enthusiasm for a woman of her status.

He skimmed a hand between her breasts and she gasped when his fingertips feathered over her navel, past the scar there. “Believe it or not, we’re playing this by ear. We’re going to do what feels good and what makes sense.” He pulled his fingers free of her cunt and licked them clean. “You’re already ready, aren’t you?”

She had no shame. She had two extremely attractive, well-hung men at her beck and call. All the foreplay she needed was the sound of them unzipping their pants.

“You can let her go, Ollie. And how about laying back on the bed? Back against the headboard. I need some room.”

Room for what? Tess wanted to ask, but she knew better. Harvey would probably want to correct her for not trusting him, and while she would have found him warming her ass to be titillating any other time, right now she wanted to get down to business.

Ollie unhanded her and shifted behind her. She didn’t turn to see what he was doing, and kept her eyes trained on Harvey. His gaze dared her to turn, but she didn’t.

The mattress squeaked as Ollie settled onto it, and when he’d stopped moving, Harvey turned Tess around to look.

He was naked as a jaybird, and lounged with his hands behind his head, one knee bent, and his big cock stood at attention. A pearl of pre-come glistened at the head, and his cock twitched, seemingly in response to her gaze.

Harvey teased his palms up her ribs and pushed her breasts together as if for Ollie’s inspection. Idly, he flicked her nipples and leaned down to whisper, “Can you take him down your throat?”

The fact she had to think about it didn’t bode well for her jaw, but she wanted to try. She wanted to taste that glistening slick of arousal on his cockhead and watch him try, and fail, to keep control of his expressions as she blew him.

“Then wrap your lips around his head and suck.”

She blinked at him, waiting for the punch line. Although she was used to Harvey’s candor, in the past, his instructions had been about what she could do to him. Now he’d brought a third party into the equation.

The third party didn’t seem to mind. Ollie gripped the base of his cock and rimmed his thumb around the head. He inclined his head in an I’m waiting fashion. “You heard him, Tess.”

Oh.

She climbed onto the bed and settled herself between his legs.

She must have hesitated for too long, because Harvey leaned in and put her hands on Ollie’s cock.

“Don’t act like you’re afraid of it now, sweetheart, and if you want that in your pussy later, you’d better start sucking.”

“And to think I was worried you wouldn’t share,” she said.

She dipped her head over Ollie’s dick. Harvey pulled her hair clear of her face and knotted it at her neck.

“Let’s not impede the man’s view.”

“Wouldn’t want to do that, now, would we?”

She’d talked back, so she should have anticipated the swat to her ass, but it made her jolt. And then as the pain gave way to heat, her body relaxed and pussy clenched. Her wetness seeped onto her thighs. With Harvey now moving behind her, he had to see and know what had caused it.

He rubbed where he’d struck and kissed the stinging flesh.

It would have been so easy to get distracted by his lips on her ass or his fingers probing her cleft, but she remembered she had a job to do.

And so did Ollie. He guided her head down to his cock and stroked her chin. “Open up, baby,” he said.

Gods, don’t tell me I have another one.

Harvey thrust two fingers into her sheath and fluttered them against her G-spot. “Another what?” he asked.

She curled her fingers into the meat of Ollie’s thighs and hissed at already-mounting fullness in her sex. Could she keep nothing to herself? Was nothing private?

“Not when you’re touching us like this.” Ollie had picked up the thread of the conversation.

“Another bossy one, is what I was thinking.” She rolled her eyes, but opened her mouth for him and dragged the tip of her tongue up and down his head’s slit.

“Better be glad Harvey didn’t see that.”

“I think you want to get me in trouble.” She put a two-fisted grip on his cock and settled more comfortably on her forearms and knees.

He shrugged. “I think it’s sexy. You surrendering, I mean.” He pushed his cock farther into her mouth. “Not the backtalk. By the way, did you pick up all your foul language on the streets or is it just your Viking constitution? Sometimes, I think you need your mouth washed out with soap because you could make a sailor blush when you get ornery.”

“Says the man who has a cock in my mouth,” she muttered around the thing.

Harvey thrust fingers into her ass, and she whimpered. She liked being probed and rimmed, and there was something enticingly taboo about being fucked there, but she wasn’t ready.

“Here we were, trying to be nice,” he said.

Tess kept her words to herself, and locked her thoughts down. Given the early hour, she doubted there’d be any urgent pleas for attention from the Afótama web. People had to expect the queen to have some off hours. Her internet service provider had them all the fucking time.

She went to work on Ollie’s cock, savored the satiny feel of him against her tongue and pulled him farther into her mouth.

His moan told her he enjoyed her indulgently slow sucks and swirls, and his fist in her hair told her he didn’t want her to stop.

She removed one hand from his shaft and ran it up the inside of his clenching thigh before cupping his heavy balls. They drew up tight in her palm as she brushed her thumb over them, still suckling his cock head with gusto. When her fingertips skimmed over his perineum, his grip on her hair tightened and he inhaled sharply.

She rolled her eyes up to meet his gaze. His expression was one half nope! and one half tell no one.

She chuckled around him and pulled more of him into her mouth so his head touched her throat. She waited for her gag reflex to kick in and force her to expel him, but she was too relaxed. Neither her body nor mind feared that he’d hurt her. She took more of him down her throat and slid her fingers down his perineum and between his cheeks.

She didn’t try to breach him, but strummed him while teasing him with her lips, teeth, and tongue.

His eyelids closed, lips parted, and he thrust into her, carefully but desperately. It’d been too long for all of them.

Harvey pushed himself into her in one long, slow thrust and gripped her hips possessively. “You might want to find something less delicate to hold onto,” he said. “Maybe he won’t mind a little pain, but I suspect you’d like to produce an heir at some point in the distant future.”

Heirs. Oh.

She relaxed her grip on Ollie’s jewels and let him fall from her mouth.

Harvey pulled out almost all the way, only to give her a purposeful thrust that forced her farther up Ollie’s torso.

Ollie grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up incrementally as Harvey accelerated. He moved her more and more, not stopping until her head was on his chest, his cock nestled between her breasts, and her legs straddling his thighs.

Harvey moved up along with her, never losing his rhythm.

He planted a hand on either side of Ollie’s waist and thrust harder, demanding her full attention.

The sharp pain on her shoulder stole her breath. Harvey scored her with his teeth, and the sting gave way to pleasure when his hot tongue traced around the bite.

Her pussy clenched around him, trying to keep him in and stoking that magical spot inside her, because she was so close. She hooked her feet around the backs of his thighs and pushed up so she could better meet his thrusts, but he pushed her back down.

“This is a race that…” He thrust into her again, brushing the very end of her and making her shout out those profane things Ollie hated. “You’re not going to win.” He did it again, and this time pulled out and leaned back from her.

Tess looked down his body to see his hand wrapped around his pulsing cock, and couldn’t even enjoy the show, because he wound his free arm around her waist and pulled her upright.

“You don’t come until he does,” he said.

She must have been moving too slowly, because he hauled her up and positioned her over Ollie’s shaft.

She enjoyed being manhandled by these two more than she should have. Maybe it was because when they were outside of the bedroom, they were too careful with her. Appearances required a certain act from all of them, and the truth was that most often, she preferred being told what to do. She was born to be a leader, but didn’t enjoy being in that role all the time.

Sometimes, she just wanted to be handled.

Ever helpful, Ollie righted his dick for her easy access.

“Nice to see you two working so well together,” she mumbled as she sank slowly onto Ollie.

“Like Ollie said,” Harvey let go of Tess and eased himself off the foot of the bed. “You surrendering is a huge turn-on.” He gave her a little swat to the bottom and walked to the bathroom. “The extra pair of hands to get you there helps.”

Ollie gripped her waist and rolled his hips, stretching her even more. “How are you feeling? Ready to run from us?”

“Ready to stand and fight, darlin’.” She lowered her torso onto his and dug her knees into his sides as she rode him. “Or lie down and fight. Mmm, I don’t want to fight though.”

“You want to come.”

He didn’t need to be a psychic to know that.

He rolled them over without even slipping out of her and took her lips in a breath-stealing kiss before tossing her ankles onto his shoulders. He grabbed her by the hips and rocked in and out of her in short thrusts.

Harvey returned from the bathroom and sat on the bed’s edge. His gaze lingered at the place Ollie’s cock met her cunt, and he swallowed hard.

Briefly, she considered opening up her mind and reaching out to him to see what he was thinking, but before she could decide, he bent down and pulled her nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Tess spat, and her hands grabbed whatever they could.

“Don’t forget this,” Ollie said. Now that he’d stretched her well, he thrust deeper, and longer, forcing a yip from her at the peak of each joust. She didn’t know what the “this” Ollie referred to was, and really didn’t care.

Gods, having both of them tend to her at once was a sinfully decadent thing. She already knew their amazing mouths, fingers, and cocks would become her addiction, though hopefully, not her downfall. She couldn’t very well sit on her throne—which was a special rolling chair in the conference room—and a dick at the same time.

But damned if she didn’t feel free and safe when she was between them—like nothing else was important as long as they were touching.

Harvey pulled her clit between his fingers, and lifted his mouth from her breast to whisper, “Shhh,” when she cried out. He flicked his thumb over her wet peak, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stifle her expletives. For them to not want her to win the orgasm race, they certainly seemed to be trying hard to send her over the edge.

When Harvey leaned in and kissed her, she thought, “Fuck it,” and let go. She moaned into Harvey’s mouth and scratched at any parts of them she could reach—Ollie’s thigh, Harvey’s wrist over her belly.

Ollie went right along with her, his cock expending his seed into her sheath and his fingers digging into her hips. “Impatient, isn’t she?”

Harvey eased off her and sat up. “One of few annoying qualities, though easy enough to correct.”

“I agree. It’s expected, though. She’s been running wild for too long. It’s about time she belonged to someone.”

Tess sighed. “I’m right here, guys, and I have ears. Hi.”

Ollie let her legs down and gave her a rakish wink. “Hi, baby.”

Now it was his turn to walk to the bathroom.

Harvey eased onto the bed beside her and nestled her against the front of his body. “It’s okay to belong to someone, Tess. I like it.”

She snuggled her ass against him and allowed her body to relax, muscle by muscle. “Me, too.”

She doubted he heard her. His breathing had gone slow, and arm over her waist limp.

Ollie returned, studied their position in the middle of the bed, and groaned. “Are there beds built for this kind of thing?”

She patted the space in front of her, and he took it.

“We could always keep separate rooms.”

“We could pretend to for the sake of public relations. Tongues are going to wag enough as it is.” He folded her hand in his and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he was asleep, too.

Somehow, Tess didn’t think she was going to make her flight, and she didn’t really care. Before she succumbed to sleep, too, she reconnected with the Afótama web and reached out to Nadia. “Need a new flight.”

Nadia returned a sleepy, mental sigh. “Are they fighting again?”

Tess chuckled quietly. “Only to see who can snore the loudest.”

20

Tess climbed up the secret staircase into the living quarters at the Norseston mansion high-spirited and laughing. It was good to be home.

Home. When had she started thinking of it as such? Maybe she hadn’t known how to recognize the thrill because she’d never really had a home before. Places to live, yes, but no place where she felt she belonged.

Harvey, at the front of their four-person queue, opened the door at the top of the stairs and Nadia followed him through, only to walk into his back when he stopped abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Tess climbed to the landing and nudged Nadia out of the way.

Standing in the hall with her hands clasped behind her back and wearing a drawn expression was Nan. “I’m glad you’re home safely,” she said quietly.

Tess couldn’t get a read on her, but her gut said her grandmother was angry. But, at whom?

Ollie pulled Tess clear of the staircase and shut the fire door. “What happened, Muriel?”

“We’re not certain of anything just yet, but I think it’s time we took a closer look at who comes in and goes out of Norseton.”

“May I speak frankly?” Harvey asked.

“As long as you do it aloud. Funnily enough, that’s the more secure communication method at the moment.”

Harvey nodded. “You said who comes in and goes out. Are you including Afótama in that number?”

“Yes.”

“Our security as well?”

“Especially. In your absence, Tess, I put all the staff on paid administrative leave. Joe and Jody are working to clear them one at a time. So far, only Lora’s back.”

Tess ducked out of Ollie’s shadow and joined her grandmother’s side. “Where are the rest? If they’re all gone, why are we having a stealthy hallway conference?”

“They’re on leave, but most are in the area. I don’t know how many are in the building at the moment. The butler has an apartment in the basement, and I couldn’t exactly throw him out of it.”

“Here I was, thinking you were going to yell at me and Nadia for traveling unescorted, but it seems we have a much bigger problem. What is it?”

Nan shook her head. “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t take staff. Until we know for certain whom we can trust, stick with sure bets. Nadia, Jody, your uncle, or one of your men.”

Tess’s cheeks burned hot at her grandmother’s use of the word “men,” but she should have known Nan wouldn’t judge. Nan was a practical woman. She might have even suggested Tess take both as lovers and dazzle them so they’d call off their stupid challenge.

“Under no circumstances are you to go anywhere alone.”

Tess opened her mouth to speak any one of several complaints, but Ollie clapped his hand over it. “Baby, everyone knows you’re the queen, but the folks in this hallway know she’s the lady in charge.”

Of course.

“I don’t think she’s bossing you around because it’s her birthright, but because she’s your grandmother. I doubt she wants to lose any more of her family”

Nan nodded. “Thank you, Oliver. We can move to my sitting room, and I’ll lay out all the facts I have.”

They followed her down the hall filed into her soundproof suite. Tess’s rooms were nowhere near as kitted out. She hadn’t had time to approve the upgrades, though she’d certainly be making it a priority as soon as the staff was back.

Nadia leaned against the desk edge.

Tess sat in the middle of a Viking sandwich on the plush sofa.

Nan settled primly onto her antique wingback chair and straightened her screen-printed three-wolf-moon T-shirt. Tess would have laughed at her grandmother’s eccentricities if the mood hadn’t been so solemn. Nan cleared her throat. “The last time we had to clean house like this, Tess, was after you went missing. We’d like to keep this as quiet as we can to keep the Afótama web calm. If we can handle this swiftly, no one outside the inner circle will catch wind of it.”

“What happened?” Tess got a sinking feeling.

“Fiona’s boy Ricky went missing yesterday. I thought perhaps he left the complex and got lost, but—”

“No.” Tess shook her head. She knew that was wrong because she felt him, thanks to Ollie. She always felt a general disquietude from Fiona because of her illness, and she wouldn’t have noticed if the other woman’s stress shifted from one kind to another. She’d learned to more or less tune Fiona out when she surveyed the web. The children, though—they were different.

She hadn’t felt a disruption from Ricky because Ricky didn’t know anything was wrong. He thought he was safe with whomever he was with, and Tess didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“And I’m the conduit, so it’s my job to figure out where he is, isn’t?”

“It won’t be easy,” Nan said. “When I was in your place, I couldn’t track the children. I fear we may be up against the same enemy, and one who knows far too many of our secrets.”

“Plucked off from the inside.” It took all the fortitude Tess could muster to keep her terror from leaching into the web. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up, and everyone would know soon that something was wrong.

“No, no, no.” Ollie grabbed her hand. “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” With his help, she compartmentalized her thoughts and stored them away. It was easier now that she knew where to put them.

“Use all the help people willingly offer you, Contessa,” Nan said. “The queen’s power is a mighty thing, but grows when she has a lens to direct and multiply it.” She pushed her glasses onto her nose and stood. She rummaged through the tubes of rolled maps in the stand by her desk and pulled out the one she sought. “You have two lenses. I think your odds of success in all you endeavor are remarkably high.”

Harvey squeezed Tess’s knee and gave her thigh a reassuring rub. “We will succeed.”

Tess couldn’t help but to grin. “We, huh?”

His smile in return was predatory and drop-dead sexy. “We’re sharing, Tess. Remember?”

How could she forget?

The Afótama Legacy continues this winter. Sign up for Holley’s paranormal romance newsletter to be notified of the release of The Chieftain’s Daughter. Turn the page for a sneak peek.

FROM THE CHIEFTAIN’S DAUGHTER

Of all the parts of the body to find scintillating, it was fingers that intrigued Harvey Lang the most. His queen’s, and lover’s, fingers were long and elegant and rarely still. Even when her lovely face displayed no signs of her inner turmoil, her hands did. She drummed her fingers or threaded them between each other in different configurations. She traced unreadable scribbles on tabletops and on the back of his hand. She laced them through his hair and made knots while she pondered the day’s dilemma. Her fingers were rarely still, even in her sleep.

It wasn’t her fingers driving him to distraction in the Norseton royal’s mansion’s library, though—at least not this time. His gaze fell on the fingers of the person skillfully dismantling and cleaning a semiautomatic Beretta pistol.

These fingers were calloused and rough. They were bronzed from sun exposure, and scarred from thirty-eight years of mistakes. When balled into a fist, those fingers could disfigure a man. He’d learned that firsthand.

Harvey’s own fingers moved to his bruised jaw and rubbed it. The damage could have been much worse if it weren’t for Tess’s intervention.

She knelt in front of him, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. “What world did you drift off to?” his queen asked.

“You really want to know?”

She offered him one of her rare grins, and immediately his blood drained south to his cock. She seduced without even trying and had lips that inspired carnal thoughts.

As her hands inched up his thighs, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened for him, and he let his tongue trace lazy figure eights around hers.

Just in time, Tess’s cousin and aide strode into the room and closed the heavy wood door behind her.

“What’d I miss?” Nadia asked. As always, she wore black from neck to toe, but no leather for once. She must have been letting it breathe.

From the front of the room, Tess’s other lover said mirthfully, “We were talking about the missing Ricky Freberg and other items of group importance.” Ollie winked at Nadia and started reassembling his gun.

She cut her gaze to the lounger and scoffed. “Right. I just bet it was all business. I’m surprised you didn’t join in, Ollie.”

“If you hadn’t come in when you did, I would have gotten up and played lookout.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Lookout.”

He grinned daringly. As he was big and broad and built something like a sequoia tree, that sly smile should have looked dangerous. It should have made people want to take a few big steps backward, and maybe it did work that way with outsiders.

It made Nadia groan and Tess make a little moan of appreciation.

It made Harvey pull a pillow onto his lap, not for fear the other man would see his cock’s distress, but because he half caused it.

They’d fought it out only to recognize that there was room on the royal dais for three.

Tess was too much woman for any one man.

And Harvey...well. Tess was the only woman he’d ever loved. He couldn’t love another woman. He’d tried for ten years. He discovered somewhat inadvertently that he could, however, love another man.

ABOUT HOLLEY TRENT

Holley Trent is a Carolina girl gone west. Raised in rural coastal North Carolina, she has Southern sensibilities but her adventurous spirit drove her to Colorado for new experiences. She writes contemporary and paranormal romances ranging from sensual to erotic that are usually set in her home state.

She’s a member of EPIC, Romance Writers of America, as well as Passionate Ink, Colorado Romance Writers, and CIM-RWA: the Cultural Interracial and Multicultural special interest RWA chapter.

The Viking Queen’s Men is the first story in the planned five-book Afótama Legacy series. If you like her modern Vikings, you’ll love her superheroine private eyes and misunderstood sex demons. For Holley’s complete backlist, including titles from Musa Publishing, Crimson Romance, and Lyrical Press/Kensington, please visit her website at http://www.holleytrent.com.

Eager to chat about The Viking Queen’s Men or another Holley Trent book? Catch her online on Twitter where she tweets under the handle @holleytrent or fan her Facebook page.

Want notifications of Holley’s new paranormal romance releases? Subscribe to her newsletter.

TAMING THE VIKING’S DRAGON

by

Shawntelle Madison

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Normally I write about werewolves in the Hadley Werewolves and Coveted series, but I couldn’t resist writing a Vikings and dragons story once Steinn and Drifa started talking to me. I fell in love with this world and its characters and I can’t wait for you to join me on the ride. The past has been cruel to Drifa and Steinn, but love has a way of bringing to broken hearts back together. If you enjoy reading this tale, be sure to please join my mailing list. There are more adventures to come in the future.

~ Shawntelle

1

That damn stubborn dragon would be the death of him.

The ice dragons from the northern frigid lands of Niflheim required two riders. That knowledge became all the more apparent when the beast Steinn Eriksson rode bucked hard to the right.

“Shit!” His sword swing whistled through the air, missing the raider by mere inches.

The beast snarled beneath him, soaring toward the ground to gain momentum.

“Damn it, Knurre!” he roared. The dragon snorted in reply. As if it cared.

The raider, riding a dark, crimson-colored fire dragon soared low against the rocky outcroppings. Out here in Muspellheim’s Outlands, among the dunes and craggy active volcanoes, there weren’t many places to hide. But what his enemies made up for in the lack of hiding places they used sheer numbers to accomplish. Four other men circled behind him. He didn’t need to see to know their location. The sounds of their dragons’ wings as they re-grouped into an attack formation were all too clear.

He had a far larger, stronger beast. And yet the dragon continued to defy him and remind him that he was missing his second rider.

Two raiders dived, their dragons hissing. From the corner of his eye, they swept in from the right. As they approached, the grip on his sword tightened. He’d damn well not die in a stubborn dragon’s hands. He dug his boot heels into footrests on the wide leather saddle and veered right. The dragon went left. Claws from a nearby attacker swooped through the air, barely missing his head. Another set scraped against the mail armor on his shoulders and ended up raking his left shoulder blade.

He grunted. The pain was immediate.

Steinn pulled hard on the reins, but Knurre didn’t obey. Why did that lizard have to fight him each and every single time? Each dragon and its rider around him worked as a team. He could practically hear his father spitting words in his ear. “Control your mount, boy! Before your enemies control how you enter the afterlife!”

And what if the mount couldn’t be controlled without a second rider?

His gaze swept to the countryside. No more than five miles ahead, the borderline to his clan’s lands loomed. Month after month the raiders had approached and he’d beaten them back. But so far today, with such numbers, his chances at success were dwindling.

A raider came at him, his beast’s claws extended wide toward them. The raider’s mount snarled, its mouth opening wide as a spray of dry heat and fire shot toward them.

Knurre was a far quicker ride than the reds. The dragon’s larger size should’ve hindered it, but with grace and agility, it slid sideways out of the shot and fired its own: a blast of icy mist that froze the raider and his mount. His dead enemies rained down from the sky, one after the other.

All of this was done without direction from Steinn. Such was his lack of control over his mount.

By the time a single raider remained, all they caught was his retreating back. Knurre raced after them until Steinn pulled him back.

“Let the bastard, go!” He yanked on the ropes. Only to have Knurre pull back just as hard. The pain from Steinn’s shoulder wound bit at him, but he ignored it. “Stubborn, scaly—”

When the white dragon came to an abrupt stop, the air was forced from his lungs as he slammed hard into the leather saddle.

What came next was a slew of curses he never used unless he faced a foe in battle. He’d be damned if he’d let this creature get the best of him. He dug his heels into stirrups, letting his sword jut into the lizard’s scaly hide. The poke made Knurre grunt.

“You can think again if you think I’ll reward you for this behavior!” Steinn spat.

The beast snorted ice from its nostrils.

Begrudgingly, he returned to the town Eik, one man and beast without much injury. Albeit most of Steinn’s injuries were to his pride. They landed with a hard, awkward thump instead of the gentle ascend he expected. Why didn’t he give up?

‘Cause you’d be coming back dead on your shield.

His younger brother, Tre, as well as the other warriors in the clan gathered in to help restrain Knurre.

“Don’t bother,” Steinn said with a grunt. By the time he slid off the saddle, Knurre jumped out of the way. With a dagger-filled hiss, the dragon snapped at the warriors who had arrived to help secure it.

Steinn whistled hard between his thumbs. The command rarely worked the past couple of days—even with the promise of salted fish for the creature.

The dragon stretched out its white wings and then picked up momentum as it mustered up the speed to ascend. No one stopped it as it took flight again and disappeared over the nearest hill.

Damn scaly, hairless, bat… Bah!

Tre approached him. “I don’t know why you bother with that thing.”

Steinn often had the same question. “It is what it is. If we want to protect Eik, I do what I must.” The last time the clan had been attacked, all their men, even with their fire dragons, had little strength against the opposing clan’s numbers. It was Knurre’s far superior abilities that kept the far stronger groups from sweeping in to take over.

“You’re hurt,” Tre remarked.

Steinn reached for his shoulder and came away with blood. The stain on his fingers was as dark as sand under his feet. He let the blood drip on the rocks and said a blessing to the Goddess for protection. Sooner or later he’d have to summon Knurre again and he should be grateful he hadn’t killed himself or that damn dragon.

He brushed off Tre’s further attempts at concern and made his way to the chieftain’s great hall. The villagers kept working around him, only a few concerned about what took place with the raiders. The chieftain’s return meant everyone would be safe for a bit longer.

The Eik family great hall wasn’t much compared to other halls he’d seen in villages to the east, but he had good memories here. His brother spent most of his time managing the upkeep. A job meant for the chieftain who was too busy guarding the borders. He had enough responsibilities keeping the village safe and protecting the crystal mines from those who sought to take what his forefathers had fought so hard to protect.

“Send someone after Knurre,” he said to Tre. “Don’t—”

“I know. Just follow him.”

Tre nodded. He had come to do a good job. Even though he was seventeen years old, the boy worked hard and soon would be riding his own mount to protect the clan.

Dust from the outside had settled along the doorway so Steinn shut the door after himself. Eik hall hadn’t seen much in terms of cleaning for the past couple of months. After his father had passed away, the laughter ended. Maybe he should take a wife like Tre suggested. The dust under his feet and the cobwebs in the corners had grown far too much for Greta, their elderly maidservant to handle.

A bed of crystals sat in a pile at the fireplace, glowing and radiating heat. Winter was coming to the desert in a few months and soon a chill would touch the corners of the home.

As he took in the rest of the great room, a place his father and uncles had built with their own hands, he had trouble pushing away memories from the past. This hall had been a place where he had run about playing with Tre. His mother had been long dead before that time from birthing his brother.

Ulfr, the village elder, approached Steinn as he discarded his weapons. “My wife has prepared a meal for your victory. I want the chieftain to come sit at my fire instead of brooding all alone here with an old woman.”

From the corner where she mended clothes, the elderly woman harrumphed. “The master eats my food just fine.”

“He has a fire dragon’s cast iron stomach, then,” Ulfr remarked.

Steinn couldn’t resist chuckling. For the past couple of months, the man had been pushing his eldest daughter on him.

“You need to keep our clan ways going,” Ulfr always chided.

Looks like he’d never escape before winter came without taking a woman. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to another, dark-haired woman. She would’ve made the pain from all the fighting much easier to endure. Perhaps she’d say a joke or two about how he got hurt each time. The memory of her last visit to Eik made him smile.

A few hours later, he was sated and full of meade and fine food. Ulfr’s wife cooked a tasty meal. Their six children circled around them and filled the elder’s home with laughter.

His eldest daughter, Finna, served Steinn all night, but he could do no more than acknowledge the bold smile he'd seen countless times before. She was pretty enough with narrow hips and ample breasts.

Sleep tugged at him. He should’ve gone home before they’d cleared the table. The children had gone to bed, Finna had disappeared, and now Ulfr sat at the head of the table with his wife in his lap.

Steinn’s gaze wavered, but he caught sight of Ulfr’s hand sneaking under his wife’s skirts. The woman’s sharp inhale told him the man had found what he’d sought.

How long had it been since he’d taken a woman? A month or so. A few in the village were quite willing to warm his bed and were driven enough to be the chieftain’s wife.

And yet none of them were Drifa.

To keep himself from sleeping at Ulfr’s table, Steinn returned to the chieftain’s quarters in the hall. This late at night, the hall was quiet. Other than the sounds of his boot’s footsteps along the wooden planks, not a single sound echoed along the hallway to his quarters. Once inside, he expected nothing but darkness, but a candle flickered in the corner and a woman lying in the bed stirred.

“What are you doing here, Finna?” he asked.

“I came to warm your bed.” She got off the bed and strode toward him. The slight sway of her hips should’ve been seductive, but all he could do was sigh.

He could make out her coy smile in the dim room. The same one she’d used for every trader who visited town. He wasn’t a fool to know what she sought to be whether it was as a chieftain’s wife or a trader’s woman.

As much as he wanted to retire, he couldn’t help but see Drifa while Finna discarded his tunic. But it was Finna’s, and not Drifa’s strong hands that worked at the muscles along his shoulders, careful to avoid his wound. There wasn’t any hesitation to her seduction. With eagerness, she held his gaze as her palm fluttered over his stomach muscles and finally brushed against his erection. His shaft stiffened from the delicate attention. Her light kisses along his clavicle were bold, yet soft and filled him with lust. All he could do to restrain himself was clench his fists while she pleasured him. At first each stroke across his cock was slow, growing faster with each twist of her hand. He moaned as tension grew in his body.

He had a perfectly good woman standing in front of him, willing and ready to give him pleasure and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about someone else.

He tried to drive away his errant thoughts, but as Finna drew him toward the bed, he imagined it was Drifa, with her wider hips, who glanced over her shoulder to beckon him. A blue-eyed temptation, instead of a gray-eyed blonde, positioned him to lie on his back as she draped her slim legs over his hips. A curtain of long black hair partially covered Drifa’s pink nipples. Sweet and waiting to be suckled.

Foreplay wasn’t necessary. In his mind he saw Drifa above him, sheathing his cock with ease and riding him. Not to seek out his pleasure, but to find her own. Many times before he’d imagined Drifa in this bed. Their wedding night always came to mind. They wouldn’t rut like dragons in heat—their lovemaking would be slow and he’d taste every inch of Drifa’s skin until she burned with anticipation. She’d call out his name again and again.

Finna stiffened above him, but his climax was reluctant, his thoughts still clung to his beloved who’d left him behind. With a twist of her hips, she pushed him over the edge and his body melted with release.

Drifa… Why couldn't he let her go?

For some reason, he held on to the last moment they'd seen each other three years ago. The bitter expression on her face was seared into him. Her reddened eyes and the spiteful words she'd said to him couldn't be forgotten.

Somehow, he'd let one woman dictate his happiness.

Now that she was spent, Finna collapsed onto his chest. He sensed her triumphant smile, but his mood didn’t reflect hers. They’d done this before and the outcome had been the same. When she reached again to kiss him, he turned his head away. To him such an intimate act was meant for lovers. For man and wife and right now the woman in his bed wasn’t who he truly wanted there.

Not long after he’d dozed off for a bit, he awoke to find Finna had left his bed. She hadn’t said goodbye to him last time either. His sleep was restless, but eventually he managed to find peace.

A few hours later he woke up stiff and tired. Sleeping into the late morning was impossible, so he left his bed to see what work needed to be done. If he didn’t have to worry about their food supplies for the upcoming winter, he’d prefer resting his injured shoulder. This early in the morning the hall should’ve been empty, but instead he spotted a herald bounding in, his dark, hooded cape covering half of his face. Steinn met him in the middle of the hall.

Once the herald removed his gloves, Steinn caught sight of his pale, soft hands. The older man had likely not seen a hard day’s work in a house or a cave.

“I was told by a servant that the chieftain is here,” the man said.

“I am him.” His voice was still groggy.

“Brimir, the chieftain of Forsvollr, has called a warrior from each clan to his village.”

Forsvollr was on the other side of the Frost River that separated the Outlands from the rest of Muspellheim. At least a day’s ride on a strong dragon. What was going on?

The herald continued. “A threat has come to our world from the heavens—”

“Why are we just now hearing about this?” He closed in on the man.

The herald made a rude noise and looked over the hall. “News travels slowly out here and the Outlands are filled with nothing but volcanic ash and pitiful crystal fields. Traders with valuable news must have no interest in such places.”

Even from where he stood, the herald smelled like a perfumed wench. Such rude remarks from someone who hadn’t bled in battle were foolish.

“The orders are clear,” the older man said with an air of authority. “As the chieftain you must choose a warrior or come yourself. You’ve been called to fight and defend our lands.”

Steinn held his expression in check. Now wasn’t the time for him to leave. Not with raiders pressing against his borders. “When do I need to report to Forsvollr?”

“You have two days.” The man’s smirk grew wider. “And one of those days has already passed.”

2

“You must return to the Outlands.” An older woman had said not too long ago to Drifa Ragnardottir. “But you are required to return when you have answered the summons of your clan. You are their best warrior and our magic will be of value.”

Drifa snorted and wrapped her white cloak around her shoulders to keep the frosty breeze from Niflheim at bay. Even the bitter cold from the mountains beyond the ship couldn’t restrain the heat building in her face.

“After the mission has been completed, may I stay in the Outlands for a while?” she had asked the high priestess of the Women of the Frost.

“When I said you’re expected to return, that meant you must board a ship north the moment the warriors have defeated the enemy.” She tucked the crystal shard that hung on a string around her neck underneath the gray gown she wore.

There weren’t any goodbyes either. No blessings or embraces from the other women. Her fists clenched the side of the longship tighter. She shouldn’t have asked to go home. Her mother would’ve sent her back anyway. Her mother had been unable to answer the Call.

“Our clan has always had a Women of Frost within their ranks for the past five generations,” her mother had said. “I was the first to decline their holy gift after I lay with your father and came away with child.”

So when word spread through the village that she had the gift her mother had, she boarded a ship for the journey to Niflheim. Whatever held her in Muspellheim had been left behind to help the witches drive back the growing desert. As the years had gone by their numbers had dwindled.

The weathered Norsemen on the longship, who brought a shipment of crystals and supplies to the Women of the Frost, eyed her from their places where they rowed. She held her staff close to her side. Let them get curious, she thought. They’d taste the petrified wood on their arses if they wanted a sample.

With favorable currents, the ride lasted two days. No one bothered her at first. All she had was her thoughts and the slight plopping sound as the oar blades hit the water. The captain was amicable enough, giving her salted fish when the men ate. He offered her a pallet at the back of the boat, but based on the hunger in his eyes, he wanted her to lay with him to help warm it.

Only a fool fell for such charms.

She’d slept in a freezing room most of her stay in Niflheim—a few days out in the cold was nothing. As they headed south, the persistent chill in the air turned humid. At night, the glowing, hazy lights in the sky from the Heaven’s Claw were even less visible. The snow-capped mountains that separated Niflheim from Muspellheim disappeared in the distance and the riverbed grew more and more barren. The brown sand darkened and turned to blood red.

I’m home, she thought. A part of her didn’t miss seeing such things though. They reminded her of what she’d left behind for her new life.

The second day didn’t go as well as the first. The men grew restless as they approached the city of Forsvollr, the place where all the clans would send warriors to determine a plan of action. The city was no more than an hour away when the first man tried to approach her. Did the damn fool think she used her staff as a walking stick?

“You’re a pretty one,” he said, flashing teeth that had crusted with brown spots and age. The sun had weathered his skin to a wrinkly brown.

“How kind of you,” she mumbled.

Naturally, the captain was nowhere to be found.

“Will you be needin’ company or shelter in Forsvollr?” he asked. “I hear the Women of the Frost are always hiding up there without any men.”

“I need nothing from a man.”

He reached for her, but the moment he brushed against her cape, a hard swing of her staff knocked him off his feet and left him face first on the floor. He didn’t even see the sweep coming.

“Look here.” She spoke loud enough for the others to hear. “I’ll say it nice and slow in case anyone comes back again for more. I’m not interested in what you’re offering. Whatever little twig you have between your legs will be broken in half. Got it?”

The crusty Viking got the point, and with a nod he shuffled back.

He wasn’t the first and would not be the last man to approach her. Survival meant learning the art of combat. How often had she fought off suitors before she had left for the Niflheim? Far too many.

Not everyone was bad though. A tall man with dark brown hair came to mind, but she shoved the thought away. Thinking about the past kept her from focusing on the here and now.

The men left her alone after her little display. Her glares were warning enough. It was just as well since Forsvollr grew in the distance. Lines of smoke rose in the sky. The smell of civilization scraped against the back of her throat. She’d never been here before. Tales from men who brought their goods along the rivers had left her with the impression that the Outlands had far kinder people than the snakes who lingered around places like Forsvollr. Many of the rivers converged here making it an ideal place for trade for the Women. This land had fertile places for meager crops, but not a single crystal deposit could be found nearby. It was the Outlands, her home with its bitter air and mine deposits that provided crystals for the larger cities.

The boat arrived along the shoreline before sunset.

Drifa had no one waiting for her.

After asking for directions to the Forsvollr great hall, she set out along a dirt path from the shoreline toward the city. From a distance, it appeared larger than it actually was. Someone had used cut stone to carve out plots of land for homes and such, but even with a sense of order, there were far too many people compared to Niflheim.

Not long after walking through the city, she reached the hall. The place was filled with talking men. Both inside and out. A massive courtyard was full of dragons shuffling about at their tied posts. The dragon’s keep. It had been years since she’d seen a dragon. Not a single one had been spotted near the far north where she had lived. Even her village in the Outlands never had the resources to care for them. They ate far more than most men needed to live. Feeding the children was more important than those useless beasts.

One dragon in particular stood out from the rest. A sea of blood-red creatures had a blot of white. Somehow a warrior had a white dragon as his steed. This dragon hissed at anyone who got too close and tugged against the steel binding that tethered it to its pole. Where the other beasts had longer, sleek bodies, this one had thick, corded muscles along its arms and legs. Its snout twitched as it shook its head side to side. When her stare lingered too long, its glare matched her own.

Its mouth slowly slid open to reveal two rows of jagged teeth. She stopped in her tracks. A wicked smile invited her to come close.

Come see what I have to show you, it practically beckoned.

No, thank you, she thought.

A strange sensation tickled along the back of her neck, practically urging her to look at it, but she ignored the persistent tugs. The dragon was a curiosity and nothing more. It had been years since she’d last seen a white dragon and the sadness connected to that day wasn’t a time she should recall during wartime.

She strode toward the great hall, ignoring the gazes on her back. No one else wore white capes. Her clothing marked her for what she was. Those who had the memories to remember the Women of the Frost, anyway.

The heavy odor of meade and smoke from pipes filled the air and bit into her eyes. Just another thing to get used to again. No one stopped her as she trudged through the throng of bodies searching out the circle of men who had summoned her.

She found them in no time.

“Our final warrior has arrived,” an older man droned. “Drifa Ragnardottir.”

So she was the last of how many? She glanced about seeing vaguely familiar and unfamiliar faces from other clans in the Outlands, but there were too many men in the room to be able to surmise who’d join in the fight.

She approached the older man and nodded with respect.

“How was your journey?” Brimir, the chieftain of Forsvollr asked.

As entertaining as it would be to regale them with how she fought off men during her boat trip, she decided to keep her mouth shut. “Uneventful.”

Brimir laughed from his seat, wiping ale off the white and black stubble on his pointy chin. He assessed her with kind brown eyes. “The quiet will end soon. You have been called as the others have been called.” He gestured to a long table in one of the corners where four men sat drinking and eating. They presented their backs so she didn’t recognize them. Four men, including Brimir and herself, wasn’t a suitable force. There were many clans in Muspellheim, why hadn’t more warriors showed up?

Brimir stood, towering above her. For an older man, he still had a warrior’s build.

She followed him over to the table.

“How late am I?” she asked.

“We waited for two others, men who came from the far south,” he replied. “But since everyone has arrived we can discuss our plans.”

She approached a free seat. One of the men, a warrior with narrow gray eyes and hair shorn along the sides, growled at her. “Fetch me another drink, girl.”

“Find someone else.” She took her place at the last remaining seat, and wanted to turn right back around and return north when she saw who sat next to her.

He was the tallest man at the table. Even with the dim light from the torches around them and smoke in the room she made out his light brown hair and dark eyes. She remembered everything about him. Their gazes locked and he didn’t say a word, nor did his expression change.

“What’s a tiny girl like you doing here?” The man who wanted her to play fetch leered at her.

“Shut your mouth, Jor!” Brimir barked. “She’s here to represent her clan. What’s left of it.”

Jor laughed. “What good will she be with her little toothpick? My little dottir could spear fish with it.”

“How about you pull out the damn blade that’s stuck up your ass and pay attention?” a deep voice said at her side. It was Steinn. She refused to turn and look at him.

The man harrumphed and spit on the floor.

“I don’t need you to defend me,” she whispered to him.

Once they fell silent, Brimir spoke. “We have gathered warriors from each clan today so that we may face the evil coming for us from the east. These offworlders have already decimated two villages. The numbers among our clans have thinned over the years but based on your fighting skills you all are more than capable of meeting the danger. We have an assassin’s blade.” He looked to a man with a shaved head and skin the color of smooth wood. “And even a master rider who has never had the border of his lands breached.” He nodded to Jor. His smile grew even wider. “We even have a witch and a rare ice dragon.”

She glanced about to see who Brimir looked at when he mentioned the white dragon, but the older man’s gaze merely swept over everyone.

The dragon can’t be Steinn’s. They were rare for obvious reasons: you’d freezing your arse off in the north searching for them and establishing a link to command them properly was damn near impossible for a single man.

The last time she’d seen Steinn he’d had one.

Brimir kept going so Drifa tossed her thoughts aside. “I don’t know much, but I do know they fell from the sky on the night the Heaven’s Claw was the most visible. One of the warriors from the far east managed to bring word of their arrival and he brought this with him.” From his pocket, he pulled out a strange shiny, jagged piece of metal. Almost like armor, but far too smooth.

“What is that thing?” the man with the shaved head asked.

“Even the metalsmiths in your clan couldn’t have constructed something so fine, Oddr.” Brimir passed Oddr the piece. “I was told they arrived with weapons we haven’t seen before. They were prepared to attack when they landed, but their weaponry didn’t fire.”

“I've seen something similar to this before, but it was far more aged.” Oddr had the most intense gaze she’d ever seen. “It came from the first travelers who came from the sky.”

As a child, she’d heard the tale of the burning crater left behind in the Outlands when a strange object in the sky fell to the ground. Not much remained behind but charred bodies and metallic pieces that ended up scattered across the Outlands.

“Why didn’t their weapons fire?” Steinn asked.

“No one knows, but what they are missing in their strange technology, they have made up for in numbers,” Brimir grumbled.

Steinn stole a glance in her direction and the heat from his gaze seared her. “You shouldn’t have come,” was all he said to her.

She had a reply ready for him, but when a question came from one of the others, she was caught off guard.

“Are you representing the Women of the Frost?” Jor asked her. “Are there more witches coming?”

“I came in the name of my clan in the Outlands. As far as the witches, the women are all old. Far too old to pick up a sword.” Just imagining a bunch of old women swinging clubs about made her chuckle.

“The plan is to ride east to protect the cities along the border of the Outlands.“ Brimir glanced to each person at the table. “Once Skarfanes falls they’ll have access to the cities to the west. Those include the smaller villages and valuable crystal deposits.” His gaze grew serious. “This fight will be perilous, but I know we’ll crush those vermin underfoot!”

Roars filled the air and men rose to cheer.

A hand snaked out beside her to grip her wrist. “I think you didn’t hear me earlier when I said you shouldn’t be here.”

Steinn’s hold was firm, but with a hard twist to the left she freed herself. “Is your village not as important as mine?” she bit out.

“Where is your family? Are there no men where you live?” He didn’t look at her once, most likely determined to pretend she wasn’t really here. Steinn used to take her in with one glance that left her breathless. There was something about the way he stared at her as if they had no barriers between them.

“I’m more than capable of holding my own, Viking. Not a single man in my clan has bested me with a staff. Either way, for the last few years, the lack of food and attacks from raiders have thinned us out.”

“Raiders have pushed against my borders as well.”

She stole a glance at him again. How long had it been? Far too many moons. At least over thirty. And yet as she sat next to him, she couldn’t stop herself from taking in his features. His once younger face now had a scar or two to show for it. Brown stubble covered his face, too. He used to smile all the time, and boy did he have the most annoying laugh. A dimple would dot his cheek and she couldn’t resist wanting to reach out for it.

But now a scar marred the cheek where that dimple used to sit. The temptation to ask where he got it came to her, but she ignored it.

He faced forward, sampling his drink so she did the same. His gaze was fixed on the grand fire pit in the center of the room.

What in the two moons should she say? Words tickled the back of her throat, but they refused to come out.

She sucked in a breath, unable to keep an uncomfortable feeling from settling into her chest. A particular day came to mind. It was a late summer one with dry heat that radiated off the sands. Not many ventured outside. Except for her to make her journey to the north.

I did what I had to do, she thought. Her gaze flicked to his, but he continued to stare ahead.

“Do you need a ride to Skarfanes, Lady?” one of the men asked to her left. The sixth one in their group. She pecked at her memories and tried to recall where she’d seen him before. He was familiar—as if she’d seen him from her childhood. It was Hrafn. His clan’s land bordered hers.

“I’ll make my own arrangements.” She didn’t have a dragon so she spoke empty words.

Jor grunted from the other side of the table. “Your fat mount won’t make it over the nearest ridge, much less carry you and that woman.”

Hrafn spat on the floor. “He’ll sail past your old bag of bones. By the time you’re digging a grave for your dragon, I’ll already be fightin’ the enemy.”

A part of her wanted him to say something to Steinn. Wouldn’t he offer her a ride? Was that his ice dragon that waited outside? The day he came to tell her about the white dragon she had been leaving for Niflheim.

“You and I were meant together, Dri,” he had said. “I believe we were meant to be linked.”

And yet things had changed. They changed the moment she chose to leave her village and forget about the promises they’d made each other.

Before he’d sought out his ice dragon, he’d shared a few facts about the riders. One thing he said always drifted through her mind: “Linked riders are rare, Dri. That could be us.”

They were rare, but not that rare. He could’ve found another. Maybe he had and that was why he hadn’t spoken up.

Brimir stood and his kinsmen followed. “We leave at dawn for Skarfanes. Rest well, for you might be sleeping in the afterlife tomorrow.”

She didn’t find his dry laugh amusing.

The four others around her continued to either drink or talk among themselves. A woman sauntered up to the table. The way her hips swayed definitely meant she wasn’t offering anyone something to eat. The blonde approached Steinn from behind and slid her long arms down his wide chest. With a silky grin, the blonde woman whispered words into his ear that she couldn’t hear.

Drifa focused on her drink and placed her hands in her lap—which was rather hard with them so close. She didn’t care what happened next. Even if he might be smiling at the woman who’d promised to warm his bed tonight. They were acquaintances, nothing more.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement. He was leaving. As much as she wanted to stare down the rim of her cup, she peeked toward his path.

He was alone. The woman had moved onto another man in their group. A much more willing one. Her lusty laugh grew louder as she fell into Oddr’s lap.

A sigh escaped her mouth and relief—which she told herself she wasn’t feeling—filled her. Before she could remind herself to think before she did something foolish, she followed him out of the hall.

By the time she reached him, he was already close to the strange white dragon.

“Steinn.”

He stopped cold and only presented his back to her.

“I wanted to speak with you,” she whispered softly. “Privately, before we begin our journey.”

Moments passed. Far too long for her to hope he’d have kind words to say. Wasn’t three years enough time for him to forgive her for leaving for Niflheim?

“What do you want, Lady?” his words were stiff.

Lady? Was it like that now between them?

“I managed to get here by boat, but I don’t have a way to reach Skarfanes. I was hoping you’d offer a safe journey to our destination.”

She touched his arm but drew back quickly when he flinched. His eyes formed slits. “You should ride with Hrafn. I don’t care how you get there.”

3

The second he turned away from Drifa and walked away he regretted it. But wasn’t a man’s pride worth something? He’d done the right thing a long time ago and let her go to pursue her new life as a witch. She had a legacy to fulfill, but in letting her go he had to let go of his feelings for her.

His stride toward Knurre slowed a bit. Was she still watching him walk away? Letting go was easier said than done apparently.

The dragon watched him with amusement. Most of the time the surely beast merely sat there, its ears twitching to keep the flies at bay. Right now it had an easy grin. Almost like it damn well knew what just happened between Drifa and himself.

He stood next to Knurre’s flank, not far from its mouth—which was about as close as anyone else wanted to get—and stewed. A part of him wanted to turn around and talk to her, to say something and not let her ride with the other men who’d accompany them into battle. Hrafn was the only one he trusted though. They had met often as boys. Hrafn was also married and had children.

The white lizard snorted and gave him a side-glance as if to say, “Does that mean anything?”

“Oh, stop it,” he whispered.

Knurre’s white tail flicked. Steinn turned to glance at it and didn’t see the hard push coming to his back. He went down hard on his knees.

“Damn it, dragon!” That foul dragon had pushed him back toward her.

And she was still standing there, staff in hand, taking them in.

His jaw tightened even more when he spotted dragon shit smeared across his knee.

“I’m not gonna do it. What do you know?” Today would be the last day he dug for ash ticks on Knurre’s itchy back.

He sighed. He was better off without her. The minute she chose the Women of the Frost over him and their pairing, he decided to move on. He had to protect his clan and pining over a woman who had left his side wasn’t what a chieftain did. They found a new woman to warm their bed to help them forget the ones from the past.

She’d find her own way to Skarfanes. Her dirtied, white cloak covered her well enough. And yet, he’d seen the other’s eyes. Even Hrafn had taken in the swell of her breasts, the way her dress fit over her curves. She had taken care of herself while she’d lived in Niflheim. She was as beautiful as he remembered.

You should go to her and not leave a lady standing there waiting, his father would say.

Exposing his heart to her wasn’t an option. She’d stay for the fight, do her time, and then she’d return to Niflheim for her training. It was her destiny.

It was best for him to remember his.

He scraped the dragon shit off his knee and untied Knurre from the ropes that tethered him to a thick post. A part of the post jutted from the ground, most likely from Knurre’s attempts to escape. Once free, the dragon stretched out its wings and waited—for once—for Steinn to get on the saddle.

Taking off into the sky, he didn’t look back.

***

Forsvollr had plenty of inns along the harbor that would take a woman in. Many of them had unruly men milling about, so Drifa had to choose wisely. When a kind woman spotted her drifting down the road and made her stay with her, the decision became all too easy.

“I won’t have a lady such as yourself associated with the likes of the men around this town. Most of the raiders and traders are here to bed women and you won’t be safe roaming about at night.”

Drifa held back a laugh. One of the more outspoken sisters, who over-shared far too often, boasted at every opportunity. “Before I came here to freeze in this wasteland,” the sister said with a wide grin, “I’ve laid with every scruffy Viking who didn’t mind keeping his sword in his trousers. I wasn’t going to spend my life up here without some good memories to keep me warm at night!”

Sword, indeed.

Forsvollr had a strong stench of dead fish along the Frost River, but that smell didn’t permeate the tiny woman’s home. She fed Drifa fish stew and warm oatmeal. A filling meal before she’d have to rise early to ride with Hrafn.

Asking the burly man had bothered her a bit, but she took it in stride.

Hadn’t Steinn already turned her away? As she prepared for the journey that early morning, she couldn’t help but smile thinking about yesterday when his dragon shoved him into a pile of shit. Probably served him right for treating her that way. They’d been friends for so long. What kind of friend couldn’t forgive another?

You had to choose the Women of the Frost over him, she told herself.

Many other things came to mind, but she pushed them away. Thinking about their relationship when heading into battle wasn’t wise. She checked over her staff for cracks or weak points. The wood was firm and would keep her safe until she reached the dragon keep. Checking a bag for supplies didn’t matter. She had hardly anything in her tiny pack. A few rations of dried meat from the sisters. Womanly necessities tucked into the pockets. The knife attached to her leg had far more value.

Dawn came swiftly and she ventured out to the dragon holding. Only red dragons remained. Not a single sign of Steinn. It was just as well. She’d be better off if he ran off with his unruly dragon and didn’t return. He’d be less of a distraction.

She approached Hrafn, who prepared his dragon for travel. As she took in the scaly creature, she wondered how it would support two riders.

Drifa greeted him first and then asked for a ride to Skarfanes.

“Not a problem, Lady,” he replied. “My dragon here is a fine mount capable of taking both of us.”

A laugh tickled the back of her throat, but she covered it with a cough. The term a ‘fine mount’ was a stretch. The beast had a wide belly with little arms jutting out. The dragon’s tiny head rested on the ground and it snored while its tail slithered from side to side. Children jumped over it, not in the least bit afraid of the overweight lizard.

“Did it eat someone before I got here?” she asked.

She meant to say something, but the word ‘someone’ jumped out of her mouth.

“Magr is just big-boned.” Hrafn’s smile stretched beyond his salt-and-pepper mustache and beard. “He’ll steal your food if you don’t keep an eye on him, but other than that he provides a smooth ride.”

“Who gave it the name Magr?” In the old tongue, it meant ‘thin.’

Hrafn laughed. “He’s actually lost weight over the summer.”

The dragon needed to lose a bit more.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” she mumbled.

She cast aside her staff and took a smaller broad sword one of the warriors in the dragon keep offered her. Her staff wouldn’t be useful for air-based combat. Dragons had a tough hide. A bow and arrow would be a fitting choice, but she didn’t see any available that were suited to her size.

“How long would it take to reach Skarfanes by foot?” she asked out of curiosity.

“The journey is impossible. That city is beyond the Outlands toward the Red Steppes Desert and is covered with deep crevasses, volcanoes, and Goddess-forsaken ash. Most of it isn’t breathable. A journey by air is the only way.”

It was almost as if the cities beyond the Outlands were another world entirely.

“Does she need help?” a deep voice asked.

She turned to see Jor looking her over, his gray eyes shining with dark amusement. He made no attempts to disguise his interest.

“I’m taking care of the lady just fine.” Hrafn grabbed her by the hips and helped her onto the saddle. He didn’t even look when she had to hike up her skirts to properly ride. “Keep your legs in the stirrups,” he advised her. “Don’t worry about Magr. He can read me by now without it.”

Even from her childhood she still remembered how dragons were trained by reading the rider’s placement on the saddle and the reins.

Magr didn’t even stir when she got on and Hrafn took his place in front of her. The kids behind them continued their hopping game on the tail.

She didn’t glance at Jor while Hrafn grabbed his pack and attached it to the back of the leather saddle. Didn’t he have somewhere he needed to be, too?

With a hard flick of the reins, Magr stirred to life with a lively fart and stretch of his wings. The kids had abandoned their game to escape from the fog of shit.

For having a round belly and stubby limbs, the dragon more than made up for his strange shape with a beautiful wingspan. Liftoff was made without effort. One minute they were on the ground, and in the next, a few rapid wing beats propelled them into the sky. The breath in her lungs rushed out as the village structures suddenly grew smaller.

Far up beyond the longhouses everything was so breathtaking. The stench from the pigsties that permeated the dragon’s pen disappeared once they were higher up. As much as she wanted to take in the sights, she couldn’t help but close her eyes as the wind tossed her hair about and whistled in her ears with each flap of the dragon’s wings.

This is what it feels like to be burden free, she thought.

She clung tight to Hrafn’s waist and peeked around him to see his dragon soaring even higher. All around them the other warriors converged into a triangular formation as they headed east. The dragons came in all shapes and sizes from the thin, puny one that Oddr rode to far the larger one that Brimir commanded. The others had been right about Jor’s mount—the dragon had half a foot in the grave with sunken eyes, old scars along its flank, and weathered wings.

“Have you ever seen Skarfanes before?” Hrafn asked her. It was rather hard to make out his words with the wind blowing so hard.

“Never.”

Hrafn asked her another question, but she didn’t catch it. Something from the corner of her eye soared past them and dove, only to ascend again. A spear of white, so beautiful with the widest wingspan she’d ever seen. It was the white dragon she’d seen earlier with Steinn riding it. She tried to form a word to best describe it—maybe majestic fit it best. Where the others seemed to just soar, this dragon danced along the cloud line with ease.

“Hang on,” Hrafn called out. “We’re about to jump on a current.”

She checked her grip and found it secure.

As they caught onto the current, their dragons flew faster. Taking it all in made her laugh. The Outlands whisked by, with mountains flattening out into a vast desert plane. A wide river, the water dirty and muddy red, passed beneath them. The boats on the water looked like tiny specks. She’d never been this far east before. Beyond the river, they came to the open desert with nothing in sight beyond the horizon.

“That’s the Raudr River,” Hrafn remarked. “The red river.”

Steinn flew not far ahead of them. She took in his back, wondering what he thought about their exchange yesterday.

I shouldn’t have approached him, she thought. She should’ve just spoken to someone else. Her face burned just remembering what he said to her. He hadn’t cared where she had spent the night or what dangers she might’ve faced while she was in Forsvollr.

Suddenly Steinn dropped behind them. He zipped past them drawing her away from her private thoughts.

What’s he doing? Then she caught Hrafn placing his hand on the sword on his hip.

Was there danger nearby? She glanced about and only saw the cloud cover here and there below, the empty desert, and the others who rode ahead and behind them. What danger did they face?

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“We’re being followed. There are raiders who attack travelers along the Red Steppes Desert,” Hrafn said. “Stay sharp, Lady.”

She readied her sword.

The attack didn’t come from in front or below. A blur descended hard on them from above, knocking their dragon off kilter. She clutched tight to Hrafn as Magr veered hard to the right into a spin. The dizzying movement knocked her teeth together and rolled her head about. Ugh! Walking seemed like a much better option right about now. Not long after getting jostled, Magr righted himself. But now the ground jumped at them as they plummeted faster and faster.

“Climb!” Hrafn barked, pulling the ropes backward.

The rock formations, with their pointy tips, grew larger and larger, ready to impale them. Her lungs burned from holding her breath.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

The red dragon veered hard to the left and they soared over the ground before they hit.

Steinn dove after their attacker, a blast of ice shooting through the air not far from them. The chill brushed against her backside.

“Watch where you’re aimin’!” Hrafn yelled.

They slowed considerably now that they’d jumped out of the current, but at least they controlled their ascent. The others continued to fight ahead of them. They weren’t alone for long though. Another dragon came for them from the right and Hrafn was ready with his sword drawn.

“My dragon’s hungry,” he beckoned.

They fought as a capable team, with the snarling dragon responding to each swing of Hrafn’s blade.

Once he dispatched their attacker, even more gathered in the distance. “There’s five more of them.”

Stay sharp.

One against five wasn’t good. Even with her sword in hand. Time to act instead of react. The first attacker came hard from another direction followed by two more. She inhaled deeply and held her breath. Warmth gathered in her chest, swirling and twitching to be freed. Not long before the attacker closed in she opened her mouth and exhaled. The cool air sought out the dragon’s heat from the fire coming out of its mouth. The magic stormed down its throat and she travelled with it. Feeling the enchantment smother the inferno churning in the dragon’s belly. The magic consumed the flames, feeding her every morsel of heat until the dragon dropped like a hard rock.

The others that came for them fell back as another attacker got too close and died.

“What did you do?” Hrafn whispered in awe.

She’d done what was necessary but at a price. She’d used magic she couldn’t properly control. Merely magic meant to push deserts southward. Unleashing the hungry nature of the frost to consume heat had been foolhardy, but it had worked.

Until her hands grew numb and she dropped her sword. The magic within her pulsed. Her heart beat faster and faster. She had never consumed so much heat so fast. The feeling of being full left her heady and she basked in the euphoria until it overwhelmed her. Her grip around Hrafn’s waist faltered. One moment she was on the saddle and in the next she careened off the side.

4

“Damn it, woman!” Steinn watched in horror as she let go of Hrafn and fell over the side. His stomach shot straight up to the back of his throat. For a heartbeat, he watched the flutter of her dress as she plummeted to the ground.

He steered Knurre in her direction, urging his mount into a dive.

If you so much as veer off course, Dragon…

But for once, he and the dragon were in sync.

He caught up to her, reaching his arm out to catch her. With ease, he placed her in front of him on the saddle. There wasn’t much room for two on the larger of the two seats, but he scooted back so she fit. Her skin was cold, only a corpse had such a chill to it. Relief filled him when she shuddered against him. She blinked a few times but didn’t speak.

“What did you do?” he chided her. His whole body was tight with alarm even though their enemies continued to retreat to the north.

“Frost magic—but it wasn’t meant for combat.” She blinked as if she struggled to stay awake. “I did what I had to do.”

Her back pressed against him and in time she fell into slumber.

Hrafn caught up with him not too long after. “Is the Lady well?”

“I don’t know, but she is breathing and her heart beats.” He shrugged to Hrafn, but his left arm around her waist tightened. She wouldn’t be falling again any time soon.

An hour passed without attacks.

Steinn held her close and wanted to savor the moment even longer. They had another few hours ride to reach Skarfanes before they might rest the dragons and offer them water. Knurre could’ve flown longer. Matter of fact, Steinn sensed its eagerness. Every time an enemy drew near Knurre’s muscles along its neck would tighten and flex. His mount hit an air pocket and jostled them. Drifa’s eyes shot open for a moment until she sighed and drifted off to sleep again. He tried not to think about her, but it was damn near impossible. Her hair smelled of lavender and her skin was warm to the touch again. He licked his lips. With each rise and fall of her chest, her breasts brushed against his arm, teasing him with the promise of pert, pink nipples. The tips would be sweet between his lips and wet from each swirl of his tongue.

Focus, Steinn, focus. She isn’t your woman, nor will she ever be.

His mind flashed back to when the dragons came at them. A much safer topic. He’d been too preoccupied to help. Damn it, he should’ve had her ride with him. Then he wouldn’t have put his friend in danger. But then again, now that he had her close to him, he was doing what he always told himself not to do: think about how he wanted to be with her.

Knurre veered a bit to the right and soared with the current. The beast could practically fight and sleep at the same time. Compared to other days, the dragon was flying far smoother and better with Drifa next to him.

Not far from them the trading post of Skarfanes appeared. Their first destination. He hadn’t visited the city since he was a boy travelling with his uncle. Such was a thing with his people. Whether the word was wanderlust or itchy feet, Uncle Olaf hungered to see new things. A future chieftain became a man in the Outlands either through conquering his enemies or protecting what he already had. Those goals were achieved with knowledge and practice. Shame came to those who died in their beds on their backs.

“Never let a woman keep you from exploring, Steinn,” his uncle said during their long jaunts. “There’s more for you to learn out here instead of coughing up dust in the mines.” His father had to remain in Eik to protect their clan so Steinn satisfied his need to learn more through his uncle.

Now that his father and uncle had passed away, protecting Eik and the crystal mines were of the utmost importance. No crystals meant no heat. No heat meant you didn’t have the means to trade either. No trade meant no food or water. Those who lived in the north had no food nor the means for heat. Those in the south lacked food resources other than whatever weeds grew in the ground. The cycle of trade along the rivers was their means of survival.

If he thought about it, he lived a simple life.

It would’ve been a better life with her, he thought.

“Where are we?” she finally whispered.

From her position, he could peek into the depths of her cloak. Her breasts peeked from her dress, full and round. He used his free hand around her waist to close her cloak against the cold. “We are approaching Skarfanes.”

“Don’t do that. I’m still hot,” she said.

When before she had been cold, now she radiated warmth against his stomach. The curve of her back called out to him. He imagined a time like this when they’d ride together, linked to Knurre. His fingers itched to trail his hand upward from her hip. Giving in, he rode the curve along her waist to the underside of her breast. Her head dipped back and the crown of her head gently bumped against his chin. He pressed his lips against her soft black hair and inhaled the sweetness. Where had his resolve gone?

They descended from the clouds toward the village. Naturally Knurre kept going until Steinn pulled on the reins to control the stubborn creature.

With a hard plop, they landed on a rocky outcropping with the four others ahead of them. Brimir surveyed the surroundings.

Or, what was left of them. Skarfanes was no more. What had once been buildings in the distance was nothing more than rubble. Fires had burned here recently, but after a few days of burning, the houses had fallen to the ground. Bits of the stone roofs were the only evidence this had once been a home.

“Steinn?”

Her words drew him back to the present. A moment passed between them and he wanted to say something. He should’ve said something brusque. Something to push her away, but he dismounted from Knurre instead.

When she tried to get down he held in her place by locking one hand on her thigh. “Don’t get off yet,” he said crisply.

Something about the charred ruins had Knurre on edge. A few of the dragons rested, most certainly the fat one Hrafn rode, but Knurre didn’t lie down. It stood there with a tense gaze on the destroyed town around them.

“Do you smell something, Knurre?” he asked his mount.

The dragon didn’t respond, nor did he expect it to. They didn’t have a bond.

What he did smell was death. Any Viking knew the scent of burnt flesh mixed with wood and stone. When crystals burnt they had a strange acidic scent, like the fires burning from the volcanoes around them.

Oddr took off into the sky with his dragon to scout the area while Brimir jumped off his mount and approached the ashes from one home. He picked up a burned bit and rubbed it between his fingers.

“How long ago?” Hrafn asked.

“At least two days ago,” Brimir replied. “Maybe less. We’ve had rainstorms come through since the winter is coming.” He ran more ash through his fingers, even tasted a bit.

He continued to speak. “Whatever came through here had major heat.” The older warrior kicked through the piles. “Even the crystals at the hearth have melted.”

Crystals radiated heat until they melted down to nothing. But they never burned in a manner like clothing or flesh. They were never incinerated.

Drifa left the dragon and walked over to him.

“What did this?” she whispered.

“The men from the heavens,” Steinn said simply.

“So we’re too late?”

“For this village, aye,” Brimir grumbled. “Instead of meeting them head-on like we wanted we’ll have to find them or go to the next town in their path.”

Oddr’s spindly dragon appeared from above them and landed hard on the rocky outcropping with them. “There are strange lines in the ground,” he reported. “They come from the east and head northeast.”

“Lines?” Brimir asked.

“How wide?” Steinn added.

Oddr’s shiny, bald head had a bright spot from the sunlight. “The length of about five dragons.”

Brimir considered this before speaking. “Even though they travel by foot they beat us here, which means their horses—whatever they are using is fast.” He spit on the ground.

Brimir glanced at him. Steinn had an idea what the old man wanted to do. If they wanted to get ahead of whatever was coming and protect the next city in the Outlands, they had to get ahead of whatever had left here.

Reluctantly, he left Drifa to join Brimir. The older warrior was glancing about the ground. He scanned as well for any clues. There were no weapons on the ground. No shields or anything else. Just charred ruins. Something jutted from the ground at a distance so he walked to it. When he plucked it out and brought it back, Brimir peered at it with interest.

“What is it?” Brimir asked.

“It’s similar to the piece of metal you showed us yesterday.”

A charred part marred one side. The other side reflected the light from the afternoon sun. Whatever it was, the invaders had used a mighty weapon to bring this city down.

***

Not long after they arrived the sky opened to rain so they rested for a bit.

Steinn scanned their camp. Hrafn’s dragon, in particular, had made itself comfortable. The overweight beast eagerly reached for the travel pack on its back, pecking at it while Hrafn took a leak behind a boulder. The warrior managed to snatch the food away before Magr took his food, provisions and all.

“That dragon could miss a meal or two,” a soft voice said from behind him.

“Dragons need to keep up their energy,” was all Steinn said. He kept his back to her. He’d made a mistake earlier when he’d enjoyed riding with her—Knurre not so much—but he’d enjoyed her company. He couldn’t let that happen again.

“I can only imagine this place used to be beautiful with such a view,” she said.

That it was.

Meanwhile, Magr tried to peek around Hrafn to see where he hid his food, but gave up when Hrafn tossed the pack near Knurre. The white dragon slept or it appeared to sleep. None of the other dragons bothered to rest next to it.

Beyond Knurre, the ledge dropped precariously to the Red Steppe Desert. Out there the land was cruel. The Raudr River they had passed was the last water source he knew of beyond the desert. Even his uncle did not take him past this point during an eastward jaunt.

That world hadn’t been meant for him though. He had travelled east to this point and then ventured north. Something about the cold called to him. It was different compared to the dry heat in Muspellheim. Niflheim had a part of his heart as much as Drifa’s.

It was Knurre who had called to him and not the Women of the Frost though. While he’d hunted for his own ice dragon, he’d seen them—not Drifa—but what remained of the Women of the Frost. What he’d seen had frightened him more than seeing what was left of the buildings here.

He’d witnessed that the witches had great power. Drifa had such power, too.

“Do you have any food?” her question was tentative, as if she hadn’t wanted to ask him. “I can ask Hrafn.”

He grabbed his flask of water from his pack and some dried meat. She took it without words and found a seat not far from him. The skies overhead darkened. This far up the weather would be a lot more tumultuous compared to the valleys below. The darkening clouds and dense air meant foul weather was coming soon, but he had a feeling it wasn’t rain but lightning. And the jarring noise had a negative effect on dragons. Oddr had gathered a pile of crystals and the other men huddled around it to examine what he had found. Jor used his blade to scratch the side. He couldn’t pierce it, but he’d left a mark. Steinn moved to join them, but she spoke.

“Do you have any ideas what came through here?”

Instead of a reply, he offered her what he found in the rubble. He retrieved a bow. It had melted in a few places, but it was still useable. The arrows had frayed edges along the fletching from fire, but she wouldn’t let such a thing keep her from taking out her target.

“So you remembered,” was all she said. Their hands brushed as she took what he offered and he tried not to think about how soft her hands were. What they felt like when they’d last touched his.

If he were smart, he’d keep his distance.

“Goddess give me strength,” he prayed. He’d done far too much praying lately to Freya. Prayers for his family’s land. Prayers that he’d survive so that his brother wouldn’t have to fight.

He answered her question about the piece of metal. “I don’t know where it came from, but I have a feeling it’s a part of the threat we stand against.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Her beautiful face grew pensive. “How can men live in the heavens?”

“Gods live above.”

“So they are gods?”

“No gods would allow a piece of themselves to be shed by man. What came to our world is something else entirely. And if we can get through their armor we have a chance to kill them.”

“May I see it?” Steinn asked Oddr.

The man handed it to him. “It can be scratched, but my sword doesn’t pierce it.”

He glanced at Knurre and tossed the piece toward the beast. His dragon would bite it soon enough. Instead, with a clang, it hit Knurre in the head and bounced to the ground. They really needed to get in sync somehow.

The white dragon bit what it perceived was a pest, crushing it between its sharp teeth. Not long afterwards the dragon spit out a slimy, crushed mess onto the ground.

“I think it’s safe to say we have a chance,” Brimir remarked.

Oddr drew his snakelike dragon over with a sharp whistle. The creature obeyed without hesitation. With a sharp bark from the southern chieftain, bright flames exploded from his dragon’s mouth onto the spit-covered ball. The first blast did nothing, but with a concentrated effort over a few minutes the metal melted onto the ground and spread into a gooey mass.

Oddr nodded with approval as his poor dragon slumped over from exerting so much fire, but Steinn wasn’t as impressed. No dragon could sustain such an attack if that metal was between them and their enemy. They had to anticipate what they were facing and there were too many unknown factors.

“We will rest for a few hours and then head for Blakkr-Horgr,” Brimir announced. “They’ll be heading there next. Water your dragons for the path ahead.”

Steinn nodded, but the others grumbled. From here to Blakkr-Horgr wasn’t a journey most men made. Whatever travelled along those tracks wouldn’t be able to cross the volcanic mountains or Raudr River to make a straight shot for the largest city in the land: the Gates to the Frost. The offworlders would have to go north through the desert to the mountain pass where Blakkr-Horgr lay. From there they could go northeast to take down the capital.

He glanced at Drifa, who stared at the view along the steppes. He wanted to join her, but remained where he stood. Her fingers played with the quills at the edges of the arrows. The bow was perfect for her. He preferred the sword anyway for the close combat that Knurre preferred.

The small camp grew quiet as everyone settled in. The men huddled near their dragons. Up here the wind was fierce. What little sunlight remained beat down on the men’s shoulders through the thickening clouds. Drifa kept her white cloak on, even with the heat.

He couldn’t resist grinning. Only a woman from Muspellheim preferred to cover herself from the heat instead of baring her skin.

From his spot next to his dragon, Hrafn stole a glance at her. Most of the others looked at her, too. As much as he tried to ignore the possessive feelings, he didn’t like it.

The pitter-patter of rain hit the rocks below their outcropping. A breeze swept through and a still quiet made him feel uneasy. He drew in a deep breath and tasted the air. Nothing seemed amiss. His dragon hadn’t moved since he’d hit the unfortunate creature in the head. He caught the steady breaths Knurre made. A rhythm he recognized as wide-awake. Knurre was still uneasy.

He rested his head against his dragon’s chilled belly and took in the horizon through slit eyes. Drifa hadn’t moved from her spot with her hand rested against the bow, almost like a sentinel guarding them.

For a while they stayed like that until a rumble trembled against his fingers on the rocks.

He almost thought he’d drifted off, but he hadn’t. Something else moved against his hand. Nothing in contact, but the rocks themselves shifted.

His grip on his sword tightened. It wasn’t raiders. They would’ve come from above.

The dragons lay still, but something had changed. The slowed heartbeat he’d heard earlier as he’d rested had picked up. The muscles along Knurre’s ribcage had flexed and the tips of his wings that it’d folded had spasmed.

The sky over them now was almost black as if night had fallen. Yet, he knew it wasn’t. Beyond the outcropping, miles ahead, the darkness bled into light. A storm was passing over them.

The rumbling grew, and he stood. He circled around Knurre, who opened its eyes and stepped out of the way. Only to have a slice of metal shoot up where it had sat.

Another blade exploded from the ground, slicing into Oddr’s dragon’s side. The dragon roared and bit into the metal, wrenching its attacker from the ground. The red lizard threw the troublesome foe over the edge and the noisemaker fell out of sight.

The outcropping erupted into chaos around Steinn. Every dragon scrambled to rise and every rider armed themselves from what came out of the ground. The stench of burnt metal drifted to his nose.

Where’s Drifa? He found her armed and shooting arrows at whatever came at her. Her arrows bounced off the shiny metal surrounding the strange, shiny creature. It had a spinning spiral on one end and a blade on the other. Rotating metal jumped about, propelling the metallic monstrosity toward them. He jumped between Drifa and anything that came after her.

One came at him fast, and with a roar, he viciously stabbed at it. His white dragon swept in to aid him, using its claws to hold their attacker down before the dragon bit down hard. By the time they dispatched what had attacked them the clearing had gone quiet again. The strange metal things littered the outcropping and smoke drifted from each one.

Oddr’s dragon limped about, but other than the cut leg, it moved just fine. When Steinn checked on Drifa, Knurre hadn’t followed him. No surprise there.

“What are these things?” Jor mumbled as he kicked one over.

“Nothing good.” Oddr replied.

“Something they left behind for anyone who came,” Steinn finally said. It had to be. In any battle if you had the opportunity to take out the rescuers you’d leave warriors behind in the shadows.

He picked up one of the hunks of metal that a dragon had bitten into. The outside had panels that were reflective and hot to the touch. The cut edges were sharp, but he managed to pry one open to reveal more metal parts inside.

“It moves without the intervention of man.” What alarmed him even more was the glowing object inside its the center. His jaw tightened just looking at it.

“What is it?” Drifa asked him.

“I don’t know what it is, but I do know what it uses.” He plucked out the glowing object and presented it to the others.

In his hand lay a crystal. The very same ones his people mined for warmth. It was the same size as the one around Drifa’s neck. It glowed bright for a moment then darkened into a black husk.

5

A few arrows had been lost, but none of them had been broken. Drifa picked up each one, all the while being careful to avoid the strange objects that littered the rocky landing. During the winter season when Steinn visited her clan, they had hunted for rabbits and desert moles. Those had been good days. Back then their parents had prepared them for marriage—perhaps hoping they’d have the love match most couple never could have. In the Outlands, it was about survival. The whims of finding romance and love when most families starved didn’t exist.

She sensed Steinn’s gaze burning on her backside. Tension filled her with each step. Before she’d left for the Women of the Frost, her clan’s land had bordered his to the north. Travelling back and forth had been a quick jaunt along a pass between their respective lands.

Now he bore the brunt of the attacks from the east from the other clans along the Frost River.

Once she finished gathering the arrows he paused. Should she go to him again? As much as she’d wanted to ride with him again, there was too much going on between them. She’d reached out to him for protection, he’d rejected her, and she had to accept that—even if the rejection hurt. They weren’t in a love match anymore. They were allies and had to treat each other as much. Anything more would complicate things between them.

You can ride with Hrafn for all I care. As much as she tried to forget about their encounter, his words burned her skin every time she thought about it. Briefly, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how he could be looking at her. The arrow-tip in her hand bit into her skin. She ignored the pain and the wet sensation from the blood that ran between her fingertips.

He was a distraction from her past. She let go of him the moment she got on that boat to join the Women of the Frost. Thinking about him brought only pain and there was no way she wanted a weight on her shoulders when she returned to the witches.

The north is a lonely place, her heart whispered to her.

The loneliness was a useless emotion. The Women of the Frost had power. They sustain this land and I’m a part of that legacy. She wiped the blood on her dress. She didn’t care who saw it. Let Steinn see it. She snorted. He probably didn’t care. Didn’t he say such? That strange dragon of his didn’t like her either. It probably would gnaw off her leg with the first opportunity it got.

And yet as she strode toward Hrafn, she fought the need to look over her shoulder. She played out several scenarios in her head where Steinn intercepted her and told her he wanted her to ride with him. That he didn’t want her to ride with another man. That he wanted them to be friends.

Once she reached Hrafn’s snoring dragon she raised her chin and offered Hrafn her best smile.

“How is your dragon?” she asked.

Hrafn glanced from her to Steinn and back to her gaze.

“He’s recovered,” he replied. “He’s ready to fight as needed.”

“I will need another ride.”

Hrafn’s black eyebrow rose. “I thought you were riding with Steinn? Doesn’t he have a double saddle?”

A muscle in her face twitched. The itch to purse her lips came, but she restrained herself. “I fell and he saved me. Even if he does have a place for me to sit, his dragon doesn’t take too kindly to me.”

“Oh, does it now.” Hrafn crossed his arms.

“What’s its name again?” She knew damn well what that troublesome creature was called.

“Knurre.”

“Aye, Knurre is uncontrollable and I shouldn’t be riding it.” She patted Magr and it belched. The fat dragon rolled onto its side as if waiting for her scratch an itchy spot it couldn’t reach anymore.

“Look at him, he’s a gentle kitten,” she said. “Who can eat a cow and a pig in one meal, but a harmless lamb nonetheless.”

Hrafn smiled as if he saw through her entire ruse. “You can ride with us, but you’ll have to hold your bow and such.”

She nodded. It wasn’t the first time she had to hold her weapons.

Hrafn placed one hand on her hip to hoist her up, only to have another wide hand clamp down on his. That other hand was Steinn’s. He reached out for her wrist to pull her away from his friend.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“That dragon can barely drag itself across a courtyard.” He damn near dragged her back to his dragon. When she managed to stop him, he hoisted her up over his shoulder, bow, quiver of arrows and all.

“Steinn, don’t make me hurt you.” With one rough yank on his ears and a stab into his eyes she could put in him in a world of pain.

“You’ve done that already,” he said coldly. “Feel free to keep practicing.”

That statement was a rough slap across the mouth.

By the time they reached Knurre, the others had mounted their dragons. From her position she couldn’t see his dragon, but she heard the animal hiss loud enough to make its feelings known: I’ll bite off your feet with the first chance I get. Steinn placed her hard on the front saddle and Knurre tried to get out of the way.

“Don’t you dare move, Dragon!” Steinn bellowed. He grabbed the reins and gave a rough yank.

“I shouldn’t be riding him,” she snapped. “Why can’t you get that through your mule-headed skull?”

Steinn swiftly mounted behind her, squeezing himself into what little space was left on the front saddle. “Quiet, woman. Don’t make me regret catching you today.” With a jerk of his feet, Knurre took off into the sky after the others.

***

Arguing on a flying dragon seemed the most appropriate action at the moment. At least Steinn could see the others were flying far ahead of them.

“You don’t like me.” She tried to squirm away from him, but there was nowhere to go. “Why don’t you let me ride with Hrafn?”

His answer came swift. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“I’d love to hear it.”

He stiffened before he drew in a deep breath and belted out, “As much as I hate what you did to me, I keep coming back. I keep hearing your voice. I keep smelling your skin. I keep remembering the way you made me feel before you threw my love away.”

She grimaced as if his words had sunk in.

“No woman has rejected me like you have, Dri.” He held the reins in both hands—which were wrapped around her waist.

“A part of me wants you to want me again.” Right at that moment he wished he could be the one to walk away, but they were in the air, out in the middle of nowhere on their way to battle. There wasn’t a place for him to lick his wounds.

She finally spoke again. “I’m sorry, Steinn.”

Those were words she should’ve said to him long ago and right now they didn’t make him feel any better.

“I mean it.” What cut into him even more was when she took the arm around his waist and drew his hand to her mouth. And when she pressed her lips against his hand, his heart lurched in his chest.

“I didn’t know you still had feelings for me,” she began. “I thought you’d move on—that you’d find someone better than me with a dowry.” She continued to hold his hand close to her face so that he cupped her cheek.

“Have I ever expected anything from your family?” he grumbled.

“No, but I’d hoped over the years that you’d be married now and have children.”

He snorted. “With who? There’s no woman in the Outlands as beautiful as you.”

She let go of his hand for a moment, but he continued to use his thumb to stroke the smooth skin of her cheek. “There’s plenty! What about that nice girl from Meoalfell?”

He chuckled. Now that wench had gone downhill fast. “Not long after you left she lay with a trader and ended up with his babe.”

“The chieftain’s daughter from the far south. That one from Kvigandisfjoror!”

“Half of the men in the Outlands have seen under her skirts…”

She sighed. “I don’t understand what makes me so memorable. Compared to some of the women I saw in Forsvollr, I’m pretty plain.”

Just hearing her compare herself to other women made him smile. “Everything about you is beautiful.” His mouth drifted to her ear where his breath warmed her skin. “From your silky hair to your neck.” She trembled, her eyes searching the skyline. The separation between them and the others grew as the mountains grew larger, the smoke from them bellowing out far into the sky.

“Every winter when you danced during the festival, I watched the way your body moved,” he whispered to her. “Curiosity made me wonder if your legs were as slim as I imagined. That your breasts were as soft as they appeared.”

The temptation to keep touching her was there, but he wouldn’t dare. The Women of the Frost were celibate. Everyone knew that. And yet when he nibbled her ear to show her how delicious he found it, it was as if he answered a dare in kind: I want you.

His lips traced circles over her earlobe, and he kept telling himself he’d withdraw from her soon. His right hand left her face to caress her hip. From there his palm snaked under the cloak to rub against the thick material of her dress. The moment he heard her sharp inhale, he froze.

What in the name of Freya are you doing? he thought.

Any moment now he expected her to push him away. She’d tell him they didn’t need to be friends, comrades or the like. They had a mission to complete. But when she drew his hand to her breast and squeezed his palm so that he squeezed her soft skin in kind his resolve was nearly shattered. She wouldn’t let go of him, allowing him to brush his fingertips against her nipple until the tip grew hard.

“Dri, you shouldn’t do this.” Her whimpers made it hard for him to think straight. “On the long nights, after I kept raiders from pilfering my lands, I sat alone and thought about having you in my lap like you are now. You were growing wet from my hands stroking your thighs. From my tongue licking you here.” He nibbled at her neck, his right hand rubbing faster along her nipple.

Just hearing her cry for more made it harder for him to hold back.

***

Her breath caught with each stroke, with each tug through her dress. Admitting to Steinn that she wanted to be intimate with him was far harder when they were alone like this. When all she wanted to do was lose herself in their time together.

“Steinn...” Her voice was breathy. Almost close to begging. She did want him. She did want him to touch her. Forgetting was impossible when it came to him.

Steinn drew his hand down to the place where she straddled the saddle. She reached for his arm, prepared to stop him—but didn’t.

Not here. Not now. It echoed through her head over and over again.

He was now under her skirts, past her shift, and now his hand brushed against her lower stomach to reach into her tights. He was almost there. To the place where wetness bathed her inner thighs. And yet she didn’t stop him when he reached underneath her skirt and his warm hand cupped her core. When he found the nub, a shudder pulsed through her. All it took was a single downward stroke for her to cry out for more.

“I’ve been waiting so long to taste you,” his voice reflected her own desire.

Any moment now he’d stop—she expected him to stop because of her vow—but he kept going, his quickened breath hot against her neck. A single finger slipped inside her while his thumb continued to stroke. Faster and faster.

“Please…” she gasped. “We need to stop.”

And that was when he stilled. Even though she had encouraged him, he still stopped, leaving her trembling and her face heated.

All the while the evidence of his arousal pressed against her backside and continued to tempt her.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that,” she breathed.

“I was just as guilty.” He withdrew his hand and tried to add a bit of distance between them—although there was no place for him to go.

As they rode toward the mountain, a thought came to mind that if he’d kept going she would’ve let him give her any pleasure he saw fit. Even if she lost her virginity in the process.

Such a decision would affect her place among the Women of the Frost though. She’d finally be free to leave them, but the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. She steeled herself and tried to push her indecision away. She wanted to scoot a bit forward, but there was nowhere to go. Long ago she’d made a choice. Steinn was still hurting, like she was.

Their intimate moment was a warning she couldn’t forget. They still wanted each other, which made it all the more important that she should never touch him again.

***

The volcanic mountain range to the north separating the Red Steppe Desert from northern plains was practically in sight. The overpowering scent of sulfuric acid grew stronger since the smoke drifted to the south. To Steinn this was like home. The vents around the nearby volcanoes spewed out poison on a daily basis. Those who worked the mines for crystal got exposed to it even more.

The thickness in the air was a welcome distraction with the woman in front of him. The group’s formation could’ve been tighter, but he appreciated the distance they offered so he could be alone with Drifa. Things needed to be said. What he hadn’t expected to feel was a loss of control. Wasn’t he supposed to control himself in all situations? Instead his body burned even more after he tasted the honeyed sweetness of her skin. He wanted her hard nipples in his mouth, to dip his fingers into her nectar and sample her across his tongue. His cock was so hard he was scared he’d spear her with it if she got any closer.

He knew damn well she had taken a vow of celibacy. A kiss to the neck, a hand on her hips, it shouldn’t have been anything more than that. But with each touch, he grew hungrier, more fervent in the need to draw her skirt up. Higher than what a lady deserved for decency.

Steinn frowned. For her first time, a woman of her bearing deserved a marriage bed. A wedding ceremony with a fine gown and a feast meant for the Gods. His village couldn’t provide all those things, but he wanted them for her nonetheless.

A wave of possessiveness folded over him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was glad she had taken a vow of celibacy. At least that meant that no other man had touched her. She was still the woman who had left for the north. Only his hands had been the one to touch her body. He wanted to be the one to watch her climax the first time. To see her face as he entered her body. That was supposed to be him.

In front of him, she coughed from the gathering fumes. All that time in the north must’ve changed her some. As much as he wanted to keep to himself, he decided to reach into his bag and offer her a scrap of cloth to wrap around her face.

She hesitated to take it, but took the offered cloth and wrapped it around her face. The clouds around the volcanoes’ tops deepened. They were so far in the sky.

They had to either go around the mountains or go through. Thick clouds of smoke rose into the sky, floated and drifted southward. A cloud of poison that could only be endured for so long. As much as he wanted to quickly get through the mountains, he couldn’t sacrifice her health. Even if he did want to keep his distance from her.

With a command that Knurre followed for once, the dragon picked up speed to catch up with Brimir. His dragon, the strongest of the reds, flew at a comfortable speed. Brimir showed no signs of discomfort from the acidic air.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this atmosphere,” Steinn said.

Brimir made a rude noise similar to a snort. “Well, aren’t you a sensitive desert flower?”

“I’m breathing just fine, old man.” He tilted his head toward Drifa. “She isn’t used to breathing Muspellheim air.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Then take off the cloth!”

She grew quiet quickly after that. She did have her pride though and gave Brimir a look.

That “I’m-fine” look that bothered him even more. She hadn’t changed at all from the woman who knew how to cut into his side.

“I propose you take this path north,” Steinn proposed. “I’ll take a wider berth to avoid the smoke. I will be a few hours behind you, but not by much.”

Brimir appeared to consider this. At least that was how Steinn interpreted his expression.

“Your dragon is crucial.” He eyed Stein. Almost like a father assessed a son. “We shouldn’t separate. Especially if trouble found you and kept you from arriving on time.”

“Oh stop it, old man. I may even beat you to Blakkr-Horgr.”

“If I have your word that you will meet us at Blakkr-Horgr at dawn then you may take whatever path you deem fit to help Drifa Ragnardottir reach our destination.”

With that Brimir nodded, and then they were on their way. A simple command to Knurre sent them veering to the west away from the smoke.

The air cleared considerably—not by much—but enough so that she could breathe far better than before.

“How kind of you to consider my well-being,” she said dryly. “How long until you forget about my vow and touch me again?”

“I won’t be the one to break your vow,” he said stiffly.

She laughed. “I wasn’t the one who...” She tried to say something and nothing but a stutter came out.

“The one who did what?” he asked with a grin. The one who took his hand and boldly placed it on her breast for him to caress?

Her cheeks reddened and she tried not to smile but failed. “You touched me and...”

“And what?” This conversation was getting interesting.

“You frustrated me,” she finished.

“From what I remember your angry expression doesn’t look like that.” Seeing her all flustered made his smile grow wider. “I distinctly recall your head was pulled back—” he offered a demonstration. “You had your mouth open like this and your back arched like—” She used the bow strapped to her leg to jab him hard in the side. He dodged the bow, but not without knocking himself partially off Knurre. Even with him hanging off she didn’t stop swatting at him. The ground wasn’t even close. The ridges and passes below them were small streaks.

The dragon roared, unnerved that his riders had reached the point of fighting like insolent children. She got in a few good hits, punching him twice in the head.

“Stop it, Dri!” He grabbed her arms and secured them to her body.

“You should’ve stopped!”

“I did as you asked, but I’m also a man. A man who wants to be with you.”

She frowned in true frustration and he had trouble not focusing on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. She was gorgeous when her bottom lip jutted out and the sharp line of eyebrows formed an accusatory expression.

He chuckled, his shaft growing stiff again. Not only had she encouraged him, but she’d enjoyed his touch.

“So if I kiss your neck again, will you place my hand elsewhere?” he asked, his voice low and silky.

She stilled, her face turning red, before she breathed out, “You won’t be kissing anyone. I’ll fight until you fall off this goddess-forsaken animal.”

He laughed. “Is that what you’d do to the man who was supposed to marry you?”

“I was a child when our parents matched us together, Steinn. Barely old enough to make adult decisions.”

“Ahh, so a child was the one who told me she chose the Women of the Frost over me?” Good try, but he wasn’t going to believe such foolishness. “The woman who said goodbye to me was no child.”

Her anger floated off her back and hit him. After that she didn’t say a word to him for the entire ride through toward Blakkr-Horgr.

6

Blakkr-Horgr, one of the final larger towns that hadn’t succumbed to the invaders, loomed north in the distance. Lights from the torches lit along the perimeter marked where they needed to go. Knurre had flown faster than Steinn had expected. In front of him, Drifa’s head drooped. Nightfall approached and they had yet to rest today other than their brief respite in Skarfanes.

Knurre showed no signs of fatigue. Although the creature required redirection at every turn. When he wasn’t looking, Knurre would turn his head toward Drifa’s feet to nip at her. With one good bite he could grab her leg and toss her off into the void.

He kicked the dragon’s head the next time it got too close. “I told you to behave.”

His words fell on deaf ears though. His connection with Knurre was too thin. An old woman’s thread that could be so easily broken.

If you took her as your woman, Knurre would accept her, he thought to himself.

She’s not my woman nor will she ever be. The moment they reached Blakkr-Horgr, the true fighting would begin. She’d be pushed into danger with an enemy he had never faced before.

His gaze flicked to the west. Could he fly back home and drop her off with her clan? Brimir would naturally learn what happened when she didn’t show up, but at least she’d be safe.

He was about to command Knurre to do such when she woke.

“Is that Blakkr-Horgr?” she asked.

“Aye.” He wanted to say more but chose not to.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Not long.” The night sky opened up leaving a blanket of stars. A chill added ice to the air so she drew her cloak closer. Her back pressed against the warmth of his chest and he kept his eye on the approaching city. The buildings lay in a deep pass between the mountains that separated the northern plains from the Red Steppes Desert. A grand statue, large enough to be seen in the air, of a red dragon sat next to the great hall, a tribute to Freya and her dragon children.

“Have you seen anything along the ground?” she asked.

He shook his head. “The invaders had to take a straight shot north to reach the city instead of coming from the southwest. We’ll be there soon enough to face them when they arrive.”

“It’s about time,” was all she said.

Her back was straight this time as if she wanted him to believe she had no fear, but the shiver in her body told him otherwise.

***

As they finally approached from the south, Drifa caught sight of what could only be fabricated from nightmares.

A hulking mass of metal, burnt orange in color and rectangular in shape, lurched toward the city and hundreds of men spilled from openings in the bottom. Countless numbers. Most likely more warriors than citizens from Blakkr-Horgr. They marched along the direct path toward the city in countless rows, their light gray uniforms standing out against the dark red sand.

They flew high over the marching army toward the city center.

“There are too many,” she whispered, taking it all in. “They are like a river that flows with no beginning or end.”

“There is an end,” Steinn said. “I see it.”

“And how many men per row? Do you plan to take all of them on?”

A quick count revealed ten men in one row. She sighed. The odds for their group weren’t looking good.

“How good is your dragon?” she asked.

“It’s the best. When it’s paired with two riders.”

Relief filled her. Weren’t two people on Knurre’s back right now?

“A mated pair, Dri,” he added.

And they were far from mated and they never would be.

They landed without trouble in the dragon keep, not far from the red dragon stone statue. Now that she was up close to the stone structure, she was amazed to see that the statue’s eyes were made of a beautiful red stone. A long shadow from neck extended across the dragon keep.

The others waited, awake and ready to take on what came for them.

“Looks like we arrived in time,” he said to the older man.

Brimir grunted. “Took you long enough. Those offworlders will reach the first homes any minute now.”

He didn’t look her way or say anything to her once he got off Knurre to speak to Brimir. She got off the dragon to follow a handmaiden who offered her food and drink before the battle would begin.

Instead of just one handmaiden, four actually took care of her. They took her bow and arrows and pushed them aside to properly feed her. Separating for a brief period of time from Steinn was good. Even if he penetrated her every thought.

Not long after filling her empty stomach, she joined the other warriors in a field on the northern side of Blakkr-Horgr. What she didn’t expect to see was only six dragons instead of more. A single red dragon and a young man barely old enough to tip ale back into his mouth was the lone warrior that the city provided. There had been so many small cages in the dragon keep. She’d expected larger ones to come nonetheless.

“Where are the other warriors and their dragons?” Steinn barked at the young man.

“A-a blight a year ago took them out,” the young man stammered. “Most of the dragons are hatchlings. Barely out of the nest.”

“This boy is barely off his mother’s tit,” Jor said with a sneer.

The young man’s face reddened.

“Enough complaining,” Brimir called. “My blade needs blood.”

The team gathered their weapons and prepared to head for the frontlines to the south. Instead of riding with Hrafn or Steinn, she jumped on the dragon with the young warrior.

He refused to look at her face.

“May I hold on for a bit until I get my bearings?” she asked him.

“Of course, Lady.” His face grew even redder and still he kept his gaze on his dragon. The beast they rode was a younger mount that was a bit jittery and didn’t sit still.

Do you really want to ride such a creature into battle? she asked herself. Did she really have a choice though? The other men would’ve been all too eager to allow her to ride, but she sensed Steinn’s gaze upon her every move. From where his dragon sat, it gave her a death glare. It was for the best that she rode with this harmless boy. With her decision made she wrapped her arms around his tiny waist.

Every muscle along the boy’s torso grew tense, vibrating under her fingers like a jostling urn filled with water.

“You’ll be fine, Boy,” she whispered to him. “What’s your name?”

“I know,” was all he said. “My name is Refr, Lady.”

She gave him her name. “By the time this is over you’ll be respected all over Blakkr-Horgr.” She wasn’t the best with pep talks, but at that moment the boy’s stomach jumped enough to spew whatever breakfast he’d eaten.

With a flick of the reins, their dragon catapulted itself into the smoke-filled sky. By now she’d barely gotten used to the smoke. The stench of sulfur touched everything here, just like when she grew up in the Outlands.

The takeoff forced the breath out of her lungs and she clutched him tighter than she wanted.

“Apologies!” Refr said.

“Is this your first time riding him?”

“Our first time in battle, Lady.”

That man thing might not come to pass if this was the extent of his skill.

The smoke from a nearby volcano spewed higher into the sky, the rumblings of an eruption vibrating through the air. In the distance she spotted the others in the formation they discussed, waiting.

Once they reached a steady flight pattern to the south over Blakkr-Horgr, she adjusted herself in the seat and tried to clear her mind.

I’ve been in other battles before, she reminded herself. But I am a Woman of the Frost now. I can consume the heat from a hundred suns. That was the thing with the women though, even if they drove back the desert to keep the living waters flowing, they were still women. They feared what they didn’t understand.

But it was too late to dwell on such thoughts. She readied her bow and drew an arrow.

She mentally prepared herself while the boy muttered to himself. Let him mutter. The madness was yet to come.

In the distance the lines of men continued to march north for Blakkr-Horgr.

A white dragon closed in on Drifa and Refr. Steinn, dressed in armor this time, glanced them over with a frown. His stern expression grew deeper as he got closer to her. The iron helmet and mail shirt had changed his demeanor from withdrawn to fierce. His broad sword had been unsheathed and the round wooden shield on his other hand meant he was prepared to face what came for them. “Stay sharp.”

“You should worry about that yourself,” she replied with a bite.

Knurre hissed at her, opening its mouth wide to reveal its teeth.

“Faster.” With a nudge to Knurre’s side, he directed his dragon toward the front of the formation. They drew in closer and closer. As much as she tried to calm herself, holding tight to the bow as if to anchor her, she could feel her heart beating hard against her ribs. Thundering and keeping her from breathing right.

Her eyes teared up and she blinked from the thick smoke.

They were close now. She could make out the enemy below. Turning tail and running wasn’t an option.

Up ahead, Brimir’s broad sword rose in the air. It was time.

With a sharp swing downward, Brimir’s dragon dove hard.

Then one after the other the rest of them followed. Oddr and Jor. Then Steinn and Hrafn. She brought up the rear with her rider.

“Come taste my blades, offworlder scum!” Jor yelled. His spiked club swung in a circle and his laugh even reached her ear. He let go of the reins and leaned in close to dive. Heat rumbled underneath Drifa and Refr, a fire gathering in their mount’s belly. A storm waiting to be unleashed. She wanted to taste it for herself, so she tightened her hands on the bow. Magic shouldn’t be used unless absolutely necessary.

Suddenly, the wind wiped through her hair as their dragon nosedived for the ground. What was once far away closed in rapidly. And the faces of the men became all too clear. Their pale, dirty faces and shaven heads came into view. Lines of them raised their hands in the air, as if they were holding something...

Bright lights from the invaders shot into the air around them—almost like arrows of light, but at the same time their dragon opened its mouth wide and the rumbling in its stomach spewed forth in a rain of fire and hot air across the ground. The flames scorched everything in its path. The line of men screamed and ran out of the way.

All she could do was hold onto Refr as they soared back into the air. Their dragon circled back around again. Sensing an opportunity to fire, she took aim. While she pulled back the bowstring and held her breath, hesitating came to mind. Whenever she’d used her weapons it had been to defend her land against a few men or even to hunt for food.

Shooting into a cluster of men was another matter entirely.

Until those bastards fired at her.

She released arrow after arrow, letting her body do what came automatic through experience. She shot as many as possible before the next dive.

All around them the red dragons dove again and again, but there were far too many invaders. With horror she spotted a line of offworlders reaching the edge of town. They shot their weapons at the homes along the edge.

“No…” she whispered.

Brimir approached them from the rear. “Hold the line,” he ordered. “Keep them from entering Blakkr-Horgr! I’m gonna burn those slimy eels at the source.”

“You need our help!” Refr yelled.

“It’s too late for that.” Brimir turned away. In the distance, she spotted Jor and Steinn continuing to fight—only to see a shot take out his wizened dragon. The blast sliced clear through the skin spanning the animal’s larger wing. The creature screamed, spiraling downward toward the frontlines. It crashed into a cluster of invaders.

“Jor!” she yelled.

“Oh no,” Refr whispered.

“Get down there!” she ordered the boy.

“They’ll shoot us, too. We have orders to protect the city.”

As much as she wanted to shove Refr out of the way, he was right. Their mount wasn’t as experienced as the others, but the beast held its own. They burned anything that came close until the men began to fall back a bit.

Far from going down without a fight, Jor jumped off his dragon and swung his spiked club hard at the closest invader who came at him. To provide coverage, Brimir and Oddr fired a protective circle close to the fallen dragon to drive back the men who shot at it.

He’s got a chance, she thought.

Jor’s mount snapped and hissed at the enemies who stalked toward them, but it was too late.

The men in gray coats swarmed on the older dragon, firing their strange weapons until the dragon moved no more.

Jor flew into a rage, bashing and swinging at any man close enough to his blade. “You bastards want a taste of the afterlife, don’t you?” he bellowed.

She glanced to the skies. Only Brimir and Oddr kept fighting in the air. Where the hell were Steinn and Knurre?

At least a mile away to the west she caught a flash of white. The army of invaders had smartly separated into three contingents: one had gone west, another had approached the city head on, and the final one had gone east to sweep around their defenses.

“Clever, tricky little bastards,” she said with a sneer. They are separating us to weaken us.

***

Once Steinn cleared them out he headed in her direction.

“Go into the city now!” she ordered Refr. “This was all a diversion.”

This time Refr obeyed. By the time they flew into Blakkr-Horgr, the invaders had burned most of the homes along the perimeter. They continued to run into the streets.

“We can’t attack them from the air like this,” Refr said. “We’ll burn the homes.”

He had a point there. “Looks like we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“What are you doing?” When the dragon soared low enough over a house she jumped off and landed on the thatch roof. She tumbled hard and fell into the dirt, but it wasn’t the first time such a thing occurred. Albeit there would be a bruise later for her to tend to.

Refr circled again. Why wasn’t he landing?

Something white streaked across the sky to her right. Steinn and Knurre flew in jerky motions before they crashed hard deep into town. In the direction the army was going.

“Steinn!” The scream was pulled from her throat.

He had been doing so well. What had happened?

She searched the skies for Refr, but couldn’t see him.

“Get your bony ass down here, Boy!” she snapped. She opened her mouth to yell further, only to have a small band of offworlders they’d spotted early running for her.

She aimed her bow to fire. As fast as she could shoot, by the time she had the next arrow in hand they opened fire. The heat came at her, bright and blinding. She waited for the pain, for her to experience that moment during battle when men fell dead.

Instead of pain, a tingling sensation rushed up her arms. Faster than she’d ever experienced it before. A rush of blood to the head that left her stunned—somehow she tasted the fire from their weapons. It swirled along her tongue like warm berries on bread and she consumed it, sucking whatever strange flames they fired at her into her body. Once they gathered there, like her many lessons all that was left to do was push back the desert. Or in this case, push back the collected heat.

The advancing men collapsed where they stood, their bodies stiffening, as their faces grew ashen and mist fogged their last breaths. Her vision wavered, but the hunger for heat never diminished. She sensed every fire eating away at the nearby homes. Heard the crashing of caved-in roofs. But all that mattered was the heat from the weapons they fired.

She rushed for them, running in their direction. Let all of them come for her. She pushed them back, step by step. They wouldn’t come any closer to the city center or to Steinn or anyone.

They yelled at her in a foreign guttural tongue. Their cries for mercy were ignored. She spotted such in the eyes of the ones who dropped their weapons and tried to run away. Those who’d gotten too close, she still killed them anyway. But many ran toward the south from where they’d come.

By the time she was alone her bones had turned to ash. She collapsed against a house, unable to stop the trembling of her fingers. The need to bleed out cold was innate—a thing she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to do it. A horse’s water trough nearby froze, turning to hard brick of ice. The dirt under her hardened. The crystal shard hanging around her neck cracked down the middle. Whatever warmth it provided had been sucked away and it fell in pieces into her lap.

Was this the true reason why the Women of the Frost stayed up north? Was this why they never took a man?

A single invader emerged from the shadows, an eager one who didn’t care why the others ran away. He aimed to fire.

From behind him Steinn, looking fierce with a snarl, swung his sword hard onto the man’s back. The invader’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open as he fell forward to the hard ground.

Not knowing the danger he faced coming near her, Steinn approached her. When she presented her palm to him, he stopped.

“Don’t come closer,” she whispered.

“You’re hurt,” was all he said.

She had yet to look at herself and see if they had truly shot her.

“Is everyone safe?” What she meant to ask was if he was unhurt.

“The villagers are still in the great hall in the center of town.” He took a step toward her, then a few more.

“It’s not safe to be near me right now.”

“I'll take my chances.”

Her hand rose again. “Give me time.”

So he waited a while, bleeding and all. Staying awake—much less holding her hand up—grew difficult. By the time her hand dropped, he stepped forward to gather her into his arms. Oh, how deliciously warm he was! The power within her had finally withdrawn, but she was still cold. She pressed her face against his cheek, enjoying the feel of the stubble. She brushed her lips against his. The heat from his mouth tasted intoxicating. His lips were smooth and soft, just as she’d remembered.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered.

“Rest then.”

She wanted to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids drooped. The heat that she’d consumed was gone. There was nothing left for her. There was nothing left for her to give Steinn either. Which was for the best.

7

She didn’t wake for a whole day. Twenty-four whole hours where Steinn watched her rest in bed. Leaving Blakkr-Horgr wasn’t an option anyway. Most of the village was in ruins and the invaders had left to find another pass to take them north. The offworlders trek would take them farther east to double back north.

The Vikings had time to regroup, but not much.

He rose to stretch his legs. From the bed, she moaned in her sleep as if in pain. She’d been doing that ever since she’d passed out. Almost as if her dreams plagued her. She’d thrashed for the first couple of hours, forcing him to hold her down so that a healer could cleanse her wounds. Just seeing the burn mark on her shoulder left him angrier than he’d expected.

She shouldn’t be in this fight anymore. She should be back home.

As to how she’d survived with only one wound was a mystery. Those peculiar weapons had burned most of Blakkr-Horgr. He’d examined one closely. It was technology beyond his understanding. An offworlder’s tool that used their crystals to fire heat through some kind of interconnecting tubes. None of them could figure out how to make it work.

His leg throbbed from when he’d landed hard off his dragon. That troublesome, stubborn lizard was supposed to follow Drifa and the boy. His mount had decided it wanted to fight elsewhere. He had tugged hard on the reins and Knurre, in its tantrum, tossed them to the ground. Knurre had fallen hard on its side in the process and would most likely limp for a few days. Served the beast right as a lesson.

With his legs stretched Steinn took a seat next to her bed. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. He hadn’t changed into fresh clothing since he’d carried her to safety. There had been so much to do afterward. Brimir found him not long after her wounds had been dressed.

“How is she?” The older warrior had a ghastly cut across his cheek and a hobble to his step.

Steinn nodded with respect. “The healer has never treated a witch from the north before.” He shrugged. “I must wait for her to wake up.”

“We will wait then—”

“What about the invaders?”

“Don’t worry,” Brimir patted his shoulder. “It will take them a few days to reach the northern plains, and before we may leave, Jor must observe Freya’s Rites to properly bury Sterkr.”

All this time he’d forgotten about Jor’s loss. Even Knurre had been the furthest thing on his mind. After crashing into a house, his dragon didn’t let him get back on. Instead of cursing at Knurre over his misfortune, he abandoned the lizard and rushed to the edge of town to bring down any man who dared to cross his path.

His darkened thoughts subsided as he watched her lips part. Before the women had cleaned her up her hair had been all tangled and dirty. She hadn’t been the same woman he’d met when she’d arrived in Forsvollr.

She shivered again. The need to go to her tugged at him. A few minutes later he gave in and joined her. The straw bed easily gave way. There wasn’t much space, but after shifting her a bit they lay side by side with his arms wrapped around her. She snuggled close to him.

Even if he had to let her go once they drove away the invaders, he didn’t regret a minute of it.

***

After sleeping next to her sisters for years, Drifa didn’t pay any mind to waking up next to a warm body. But this particular person held her in far too much of an intimate manner. Heat filled her face, but Steinn didn’t stir so she remained still. She was on a bed with Steinn. Were they still in Blakkr-Horgr?

It was hard not to savor this moment. To not enjoy feeling him so close. Their faces were a mere breath apart, until she sighed and his nose bumped hers. His arms were wrapped around her back, and he’d drawn her so close their chests pressed together all the way down to their intertwined legs. Every inch of him was hard against her skin. He must’ve carried her here. She had nothing on but a shift. The thin material left little barrier between them.

“Your purity is your pact with the Goddess Freya,” the high priestess always said. “Cover yourself while you’re out and remember your vows.”

She thought of her vows every time she was with him. Even more so now. With an inhale she caught his scent. Wonderfully male. Her gaze flicked to his lips. They were slightly parted as he slept. Her hands were held captive against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming along her fingertips. Careful not to touch a bruise than ran from his shoulder to his ribs, she took him in. He’d gathered her so close there was nowhere to go, nothing to do but feel every inch of him. To explore him with her eyes.

When an offworlder had attacked her, Steinn had come to her rescue. He’d saved her life—limping the whole way. That much she could remember. Did that mean he still cared for her?

He shifted a bit, drawing her leg over his lean hip. The weight of something hard between his legs pressed against her core and elicited a sigh from her mouth. His mouth opened and closed and she hungered to taste his lips. So full and inviting. Those lips had been deliciously wonderful on her neck yesterday. Just thinking about his hands running over her nipples fed the emptiness that ate away at her. Going back to Niflheim feeling like this seemed torturous.

She drew her face close to his and ran her lips over his cheekbone. He had a bruise there, too. She kissed another cut right across the side of his bottom lip, recalling the first time Steinn had kissed her. It had been at the last winter festival when their clans had come together. He’d been bold and kissed her soundly.

This time she got to be the one to have the upper hand. She drew his top lip into a kiss this time. Steinn sucked in a breath and murmured against her mouth. “Dri...”

Now that woke him up.

Their kiss began as a nibble, a slow-churning moment where her mouth enjoyed the feel of his. Their heads naturally tilted to deepen the kiss and she melted from the pleasure she felt. His hands behind her back pressed her even closer, one hand going to her hip to gather her shift in his fist.

One moment she was kissing him and the next, his warm hand caressed the skin on the underside of her thighs. She was even more exposed now. No more barriers. He stroked her bottom, urgently rubbing her against the bulge in his trousers. She knew very well what could come next. At a certain age the young men and women learned what happened to couples who sighed and moaned underneath the worn blankets at night. They did what she was doing now.

But she was different than them. She had a vow.

His tongue brushed against hers, pushing such thoughts aside. Damn, he made her feel so good. So happy. Each stroke heated a fire hotter than anything she’d consumed. The chill that had soaked her bones was gone now.

He pulled back, breathless, and took in her face.

She wanted to say something to him, not sure what though. Please do it again?

He spoke instead. “I’ve always wanted you more than I’ve wanted anything else.”

Drifa should’ve said the same thing back to him. That the desire to be with him was something she could never shake the entire time she was in Niflheim.

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but his head descended to kiss her again. A brief kiss that left her breathless and panting as his head descended. She didn’t stop him as he pulled her shift over her head, leaving her naked next to him. Nor did she stop him when his warm mouth licked the skin along her clavicle down to between her breasts. Her body sang as he took one nipple into his mouth, then the other. He suckled each tip, rolling his tongue over the sensitive nipple. All the while his hips rotated against the heat gathering in her core.

“I want your first time to be perfect.” He sighed against her breast. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” he asked.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His head went down even farther until the wet, warmth from his tongue slid over her belly button, down to the apex between her legs.

“Steinn...” Her voice no longer belonged to her.

“I want to mark you as mine right here,” he breathed. Ever so slowly, his tongue stroked over her womanly folds, prying them open. Being shy now was far from over. All she could do was gather her hands in his brown hair and hold on.

“You're so wet.” He tasted her again—this time on the throbbing pearl—and she trembled. “You taste as delicious as I imagined.”

Why had she waited so long to experience such things? His mouth was relentless, nibbling, sucking, licking, until her back arched from the pleasure he offered. Stroke after stroke of his tongue bathed her core in heat, but when his tongue penetrated her channel, she came undone. The muscles in her stomach jumped and pleasure shot up from her core up her back. He clasped her buttocks tight to keep her from bucking too wildly.

“Steinn!” She gasped his name again and again.

“That’s it, Dri. Give me all your sweet nectar.”

Her thighs clutched at his head, but he kept going, his masterful tongue sliding in and out of her, filling her until all she could do was cry out for him. Cry out until an earth-shattering orgasm pulled what little strength she had out of her.

When she finally stilled, he rose up from between her legs, a dark look on his face. His gaze raked over her naked body. The bruises and cuts along his torso made him all the more primal, a brute ready to take what he wanted. His large hands stroked over her skin from her cheek, down to the side of her breast, over her quivering stomach and finally he stopped right over the place where his tongue had just been. He pressed ever so slightly on her button and she moaned. A deep guttural moan that rocked her.

“That feels so good...” she whispered.

The evidence of his arousal was there. All he’d have to do was slip off his trousers and lay with her. He’d mark her as his as he promised.

He placed her hand along the generous bulge. Then he waited. Whatever lay beneath his clothes pulsed under the weight of her hand. She sensed his need. The urgency churning in his stomach as he gazed at her with a hunger that reflected her own.

The vow. Remember the vow you made and the consequences of your actions. The consequences of the past. She let her hand fall to the side and looked to the dim fire in the pit.

“I take that as no.” His words were thick with desire, but they were clear. He got up from the bed and gathered his clothes.

“Don’t leave,” she finally said. She didn’t want him to go like this. To leave mad.

“I can’t go around and around like this with you. It cuts me every time that you can’t be mine.” He turned to look at her, his eyes cold. “I want to see you in my bed every night as my wife. I want to feel you lying next to me when I wake, but this vow—the Women of the Frost—has taken away everything you and I could ever have.”

“Sit down, Steinn!” she finally snapped when he didn’t move.

Finally he sat, the crackles from the fire were the only sound in the room. When he finally spoke she expected bitter words, but it was a question that came.

“Do you remember that day?”

“What day?” she managed.

“The day your family discovered you had the gift?”

She nodded. “It was the same day you returned from Niflheim with Knurre.”

“I find it ironic how the north has called us both, Dri. In ways neither of us will ever understand.”

The north might’ve given her the Call, but as she looked at the man she’d left behind, her heart told her she should’ve ignored that summons.

8

Three years ago

The day the chilling north had called Drifa had been, in contrast, a blistering summer’s day. The heat had been stifling, forcing everyone indoors—even those who made the trek toward the crystal mines. But there were still root vegetables to pick from the cave floors at the edge of the foothills and Drifa was bound and determined to keep the moles and rabbits from munching on what little food they grew.

While the rabbits grew fatter and had more litters, the men and women in her village grew hungrier. Traps along the countryside had rarely caught anything. Without a generous haul from the crystal mines, winter would be even harder without livestock for clothes and more food. The never-ending heat was the source of the problem.

Sneaking out of the great hall where the chieftain’s family stayed was another matter entirely. While the heat baked the roof, the shade inside was far more tolerable. Her mother and three sisters had retired to a cool spot in the great room—all the while her mother grumbled about the lack of work to be done today.

“All those useless fools,” she barked. “When the caravan comes through in a week, we’ll have nothing to add to their carts. Which means no food or water for what little rations we have.”

Her mother had once been a beautiful woman, but having countless children and working long hours foraging for food had added long lines of bitterness along her gaunt cheeks.

Hunger did that to many. It made them angry at anything and everyone. To her mother, most of all.

If the others weren’t willing to try to gather food, she’d damn well at least make an effort. She gathered a basket and a thin gray cloak. The chieftain’s was far larger than her own.

Once at the great hall door she pressed her hand against the wood. The heat outside pushed back. Countless times as a child she’d been warned of burned skin. How the men remained in the mines for days if they got trapped during the summer time.

Her stomach grumbled and tore into her insides. The potato meal from breakfast barely fed any of them.

As soon as her parents allowed her to marry Steinn she’d gratefully leave her clan. They had far too little food and too many mouths to feed. As the chieftain’s eldest daughter it was her place to leave and establish a match with another more prosperous clan like Steinn’s.

She took a deep breath and cracked open the door. A breeze flowed in, but not a pleasant one. It was as if a fire pit had extended into the room, radiating its heat into the cooler places to suck away any moisture.

Instead of standing there to assess how bad it was she went outside and shut the door behind her. Gathering her cloak close and leaving only a hole to see through did little good to hold back the waves of heat. Every breath she sucked in carried dryness that stifled the spit in her mouth. After twenty feet sweat soaked her back and her dress slid across her skin as she walked.

But she kept going. The cave was no more than a short walk away through the village. No one stopped her. She could traverse this whole trip with her eyes shut. Every spot with a hint of shade offered a momentary shelter from the heat. Then she moved on. All the while to distract herself she played out fantasies of what her life would be like when Steinn returned this fall for the festival to remember their ancestors. It had been like that for the past two years. He’d visit briefly in the spring and fall with his brother Tre. During that time they courted.

She smiled under her cloak. Those were the good memories she cherished. As each day crept toward cooler weather she looked forward to seeing his serious face. Matter of fact, she saw it as her mission in life to prank him whenever possible. A little bit of pig fat smeared on the hilt of his sword or an edible gift with a surprise rock inside. After the first prank, he refused to eat anything she gave him.

By the time she reached the cave, every footstep was an effort. Her tongue had swelled, filling her dry mouth. Daring to take a drink in the heat wasn’t wise.

Once she was within the darkness in the cave, she took a few sips to satisfy her thirst, but the cottony sensation in her head wouldn’t leave her.

Ignore it, Dri. Get to work.

So she discarded her cloak and used a gardening tool to work at the rows of root vegetables along the cave’s opening. All the plants needed were just a hint of sun for them to grow while they spent the majority of the time in the shade. She filled her basket with what she could find until her vision swam. The numbness in her head had spread to her fingertips and then her mouth. Along with a strange sensation that gathered in her stomach, gnawing at her in a way that hunger never did. This churning slithered up the back of her throat and snaked back down again, forcing her to let go of her basket and stumble to the cool cave wall for support.

Something was wrong. Was she suffering from heat stroke? This was a common symptom many in the clan suffered from once in a while. She examined her face. Instead of feeling heat from flush or even sweat, her skin was cool. Not a single bead of sweat lined her brow or neck.

The chill along her face grew colder and fear raced down her back as grayish-black dots clouded her vision. Each warm breath she sucked into her lungs sounded wet to her ears. A labored gasp that forced her to clutch the cave floor’s dirt.

The hard, frozen dirt.

She blinked and with each slow blink she blacked out for a moment. Time crept by. Until someone touched her shoulder.

“What are you doing out here, Drifa?” a woman asked. It was her mother. Her younger brother stared with concern from behind their mother.

The morning light from the outside no longer bled into the cave. Just the dimness of twilight. How much time had passed with her lying on the ground?

Her mother touched her face, quickly drawing back her hand as if bitten. Her look of concern melded into a smile and widened eyes.

“What wrong?” her brother asked.

“She has been Called.” Glee filled her mother’s words.

“Called?” she croaked. Her mouth was parched as if she’d kept it open for a long time.

Ignoring their questions, her mother pushed her brother into action with a jerk of her head. “Pick up your systir and take her back to the hall.”

Her mother gathered the basket and the frost-covered vegetables that had fallen out. She couldn’t contain her excitement as Drifa was hoisted into her brother’s arms.

Now that evening had arrived the village had come to life. Women and children tended to other gardens among the cave openings and men trudged toward the mines to finally work.

A few extended their concern, but her mother brushed them away. “She’ll be fine.”

Dread filled her. Her mother hadn’t said such a thing in years.

Once inside the house, her mom placed the basket on the table and clapped her hands with glee. “My dóttir has been Called!” She raised her hands to the roof and whispered words she couldn’t make out. Maybe a prayer of thanks to the Goddess. “Soon you’ll join the sisterhood and you’ll fulfill what our village has been unable to do since I’d been Called.”

“What…” She knew very well what her mother had told her, but the finality of it had yet to hit.

Warm hands clutched her face and her mother kissed her cheeks. “You are like me. You are a Woman of the Frost.” Her mother’s words spilled forth like running water over rocks. “You’ll board a boat in a few days’ time and you’ll go to them. You’ll tell them our clan has finally supplied one of their own.”

Her response stumbled out. “No, I won’t.” Steinn was coming soon. In a month or two the summer would be over and she’d push for their marriage.

“Foolish, little girl.” Mother closed in on her. “Do you know what the Women of the Frost do?”

Of course, she did. Every woman in her lineage learned from an early age that only certain families carried the gift and it was the Women of the Frost who kept the desert from advancing northward. Her clan produced one every generation—until her mother decided to stay with her father instead of leaving.

“After I didn’t answer the Call, they found out.” Her shrill voice rose. “Those bitter old bitches, sitting celibate in their cold rooms, chose to punish me for my actions. When the summer came after I chose your father, the cool winds from the north should’ve come with it. Instead the heat levels rose.” For a moment she swallowed as if the memory pained her. “Your father traveled north and what should’ve been ice meeting the desert was nothing but dead lands. Dead red dirt. Those whores gave our clan a death sentence.”

Drifa’s mouth dropped open. So there it was. That was why they suffered.

“We offered them crystals by the cart load, but they wanted none of it.” She snorted. “They had plenty from the other clans who offered them such riches to keep the desert from spreading. What they wanted was to re-build their ranks and I denied them such the moment I took your father to my bed and conceived a babe from that first night.”

Her eyes formed slits. “You were that babe.”

“You want me to leave my life behind, and the man I’ve come to love for the Women of the Frost?”

Her mother made a rude clucking sound. “You’re not bonded to him yet—you can undo the damage I’ve done and bring prosperity back to our clan.”

She searched her mother’s eyes and bounced between pain and obligation. Blinking away tears, she could push away the memories of hunger, hearing her siblings’ stomachs growl from the lack of food. Her own suffering diminished every time Steinn arrived. His clan brought food to trade—what little they could offer—but nonetheless it was food.

But the moment she married him the suffering would continue. If she journeyed to Niflheim she could learn the frost craft and push back the desert. She could give her siblings the life she was about to give up. As much as she tried not to dwell on it, her chest tightened and all she could do was close her eyes to keep from looking at the woman who was supposed to put herself first before her children.

Oh, Steinn…

Tears coursed down her face, but Drifa quickly wiped them away. She’d mourn her loss in private instead of allowing her mother to witness it.

“Do we have crystals to trade for my transport north?” she managed to ask.

With a growing smile, her mother nodded.

A few days later, an hour or two before dawn, she slipped from the house. No goodbyes to her family. She didn’t want to cry again. The long walk across the sands and patches of dry dirt had been good for her. By the time she reached the halfway mark toward the Frost River where the traders waited for her, the sunlight began to warm the land again.

A form waited at the top of a hill she approached and it was a face she didn’t want to see. Not today and not at this moment when her heart was so heavy.

She’d have to say goodbye to Steinn face-to-face.

By the time she reached him, she couldn’t get in a word. The joyous look on his face told her he didn’t know.

“I’ve found something wonderful, Dri. An ice dragon. I want to share it with you.” He swept in and took her into his arms and what she wouldn’t give to be able to stay there. To have him hold her like this and tell her she wouldn’t have to go. That she’d remain with him and that they’d get married as their parents wanted. Like she wanted.

Not far behind him, a beautiful white dragon laid on its back on the sand. It peered at them with curiosity. Just looking at it made her want to run her hands along its graceful neck. Would the scales be rough or smooth? Was it as powerful as the tales she’d always heard?

She quickly drew her gaze away. The dragon wasn’t meant for her. Not anymore.

“That’s…great.”

He paused, taking in her face. “What’s wrong? I was on my way to your village and saw you walking away.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m leaving,” was all she managed to say. Tears lingered at the edge of her eyes, but she held them in.

“Why?” His happiness melted away.

“I have been Called to the north.”

A mixture of emotions crossed his features. “And?”

“I have to go.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said crisply. “You and I were meant together, Dri. I believe we were meant to be linked and nothing you can do to change that—”

“There isn’t anything to talk about, Steinn. I’ve been Called and any obligations I have with your clan are no longer important.” She expected the Goddess to strike her dead for such a hurtful statement. Every time they’d been together Steinn had called her a blessing and now she tossed aside his love aside.

What she wanted meant nothing now. The faces of every villager she saw every day passed before her eyes. The man who was too elderly to leave his home. The children whose father had died in the mines and they didn’t produce enough crystals to barter for the most basic of needs. All of them depended on her to do the right thing. No matter how much it hurt.

“You’re not leaving and that is final.” He took her arm as if to drag her back to her village.

“I’m not your wife!” She twisted out of his grip and continued to speak before she lost resolve. “Nor will I ever be. Forget about me, Steinn. I’ve already forgotten about you.”

With that he froze with clenched fists. His jaw tightened to the point she expected to hear his teeth grind together, but he didn’t budge in her direction. Hurting him was the worst thing she could do, but he’d stop at nothing to keep her from leaving if she told him she didn’t want to go. He was a stubborn Viking, after all.

This is for the best, she told herself as she began her march toward the Frost River again. Telling herself that over and over again was all she could do to keep herself from crying.

9

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steinn asked her.

Drifa sighed. Telling him would’ve been the easy part. But would that have changed anything? Would that have fulfilled the needs of Women of the Frost? Her heart told her no.

“At the time it was best to let you go. To let go of what we had together so you could move on.” Her throat thickened. “So I could move on.”

She put on her shift to cover her nakedness. “When I saw you at Brimir’s hall at the warrior’s table, a part of me wanted you to already have a wife. To have several babes back at home.”

“What about the other part?”

She clenched her shift as if to brace herself. Might as well tell the truth. “I wished I was that woman.”

“Will your people suffer again if you don’t return?”

She nodded. “I expect as much—even though there is a new high priestess. The women grow older and with each year more die. There are less of us to hold back the desert.”

“What if you struck back though? What if you bargained with them?”

She held back a laugh. Bargaining with a demon that had the advantage wasn’t wise. On a whim the Women of the Frost could render the northern Outlands barren. Such power was a frightening thing. Living in peace with Steinn wasn’t possible. Sooner or later the sisterhood would expect her to return and if they learned she hadn’t died in combat, who knows what would happen to her clan.

“I’ve gone through so many scenarios, love.” Calling him that brought pain to her heart, but it also felt good to say it. It felt good to have been able to touch him and have the memories of being with him. Technically to the sisters she was still a virgin. Her magic wouldn’t be as strong after he touched her so intimately, but they hadn’t made love as a man and woman yet.

She could leave him behind again. The pain sucked in at her and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out or stop the tears from falling. The hardened woman from the north faded away and all that was left was the girl who’d abandoned the love of her life behind on a hill. Steinn left the stool and was at her side to pull her into his arms.

“I don’t want to let you go again,” she blurted. He held her for a bit and she relished the warmth. Savored it. But once the stabbing pain from loss subsided, she stood and spoke what needed to be said, “I need some time alone, please.”

He’d lingered so long she expected him to reach for her again. Instead he rose and left the room.

***

As much as Steinn wanted to snatch Drifa off Hrafn’s fat dragon, he kept himself in check. It was best for her to ride with Hrafn instead of on Knurre. Ever since they’d rode into the battle at Blakkr-Horgr, the white dragon had become far too wieldy and unpredictable. Taking off had been a chore, especially with a bucking animal that refused to join the formation until it saw fit. Their brief stop for Knurre to take a shit was the worst. Most dragons took care of their business in mid-air.

Once he caught up, Brimir had a few entertaining remarks. He was a foul-mouthed jokester.

“Did your mount need servicing?” the man asked with a glint to his dark brown eyes.

“He was more than happy to oblige the beast!” Jor, who now rode behind Oddr, added to his misery.

“Who’s the one who did the servicing?” Brimir asked with a grin.

Steinn snorted. “My dragon was far too spent. Especially after you laid with him earlier this morning.”

That shut up Brimir’s crusty mouth.

Drifa didn’t say much, riding in silence with her arms loosely wrapped around Hrafn. Just seeing her so close to another man bothered him to no end. And it didn’t matter that Hrafn was his friend or that he was married or that he wasn’t interested in her in any way.

Every fiber of his being wanted to pluck her off that dragon and place her on his. Underneath him, Knurre reflected his unease. The dragon barely kept enough elevation to miss any taller rock formations they flew over.

The flight northeast to the capital was supposed to be a smooth one.

Before they’d left, Brimir had pulled him to the side and presented a map to him. He recognized all the marks on the old sheep’s skin.

“Do you not see what I see?” The older warrior drew a path with his fingers from the invader’s landing point from the east toward Blakkr-Horgr. The northwesterly path lead out of the Red Steppes Desert toward the ice.

“What of it? They are heading for the capital.”

“Think about it, Steinn. You got a level head on your shoulders. You pointed out that they’ve been using our crystals for their weapons. Witnesses said they flew through the sky far above then shot down like a dead weight once they passed through the haze we see at twilight during the winters.”

“Heaven’s Claw.” The haze that cut into the heavens and caused it to bleed red and white lights across the sky.

“Something about our sky is toxic to their tools.”

He nodded as it all came together. “The first travelers.”

“Aye, the ones who’d landed before crashed and died in the lore. Right after the Heaven’s Claw took them out.”

“And now after all these generations they’ve returned.”

“But they’re smarter now. They don’t make the same mistakes.” Brimir clutched the map tighter. “They haven’t come here to conquer. Yet.”

“Get to the point.”

“All armies need resources to function. Theirs use crystals. Where is the largest deposit of crystal?”

“Underground in the Outlands.”

Brimir cocked a knowing grin. “Where is the largest supply of mined crystal? One that would be visible if you were flying around from the air?”

His breath caught. Only one group received vast amounts of crystal. They didn’t bother to protect it. Why would they when no one would dare steal it? “The Women of the Frost.”

“Those invaders are coming for them. The flattest path for their strange mount is from Blakkr-Horgr, through the capital at the Gates to the Frost, and finally they’ll reach Niflheim.”

“The women will fight them.”

“And they’ll lose with their pitiful numbers. Once they lose all that the witches do for us will end in death and endless dust.”

Their conversation should’ve cleared things in his head, but it had left him uneasy. Outside of the Outlands was another world. Even more land extended beyond Muspellheim to the south and even more past Niflheim. The world was a dangerous place and he had only so many resources to protect what was his.

And now he’d have to stand with a select few as the only defensive measure. It was a lot to take in. He’d visited the Gates to the Frost once as a boy and once when his father passed and the leadership of his clan passed to him. The capital was meant to be a gathering place for the clans. A hub between the desert to the south and the realm of Niflheim. And now he’d be returning there. Essentially returning Drifa to the place she didn’t want to go.

After half a day’s flight they reached the edge of the Gates to the Frost. To the far north the ice-capped mountains of Niflheim stretched toward the sky. The white snow extended southward until the patchy bits of red and white blended together. The Frost River, flowing southward, bordered the city to the west, while smaller mountains hugged the city from the east. Those who lived here depended heavily on trade with the south for crystals as a heat source.

As they approached the city’s edge, only a contingent of four red dragons and their riders appeared as a security force. The guards followed them into the city until they landed in the dragon keep. The city’s leaders promptly arrived to meet them. Little preparations had been made for the oncoming attack.

Naturally, Brimir had complaints when he spotted the other tethered dragons.

“Don’t you people know how to tend and care for hatchlings anymore? In Forsvollr, our dragons are humping faster than most of the newlyweds.” His voice rose even to the point of embarrassment. “You boys got nothing more than a bunch of freshly hatched lizards here who’d serve better to nibble on my toes.”

The city’s Dragonmaster took offense with a sour expression. “These are fine animals.”

“Who told you that?” Brimir laughed. “‘Cause my elderly amma can use her wrinkly bare hands to wrestle one of them hatchlings down.”

The two continued to argue so Steinn left their side to examine the city’s defenses. The capital had an extended wall along the south to the river’s edge. Over time it had been fortified since he’d visited, but the stone wall was meant to keep out dragons with all of its arrow towers. The gaping gate in the front was more than large enough for whatever travelled across the desert and created those tracks.

His gaze flicked to Drifa. One of the women from the city offered her water. Her back faced away from him, her own gaze centered on the mountains in the distance.

Did she want to return to the Women of the Frost already?

The mens’ conversation grew heated. “Every able-bodied man has been armed,” the chieftain snapped. “We are short on weapons, but with your support we can hold them back. You are underestimating our strength. Not a single raider has breached these walls.”

Jor’s gray eyes formed slits and his right eyebrow rose—the place where an eyebrow would’ve existed anyway. “Skarfanes is gone. Blakkr-Horgr is barely standing. Have you gone daft?”

Steinn stepped between them. “Freya, give me patience! They are coming for you,” he said firmly. “They are after the witches’ crystal deposits and this is the final city that stands between them and what they seek. You can either stay here like a bunch of old hens pecking at every little detail or we can help you fortify your defenses.”

“We have sent out a call to every able-bodied man in the Outlands,” the chieftain said with a stern expression. “We have taken every step to ensure that whatever arrives at our doorstep will be met with a death blow.”

Based on what Steinn had seen, it wouldn’t be enough. The other cities didn’t have the walls this city had, but it had more men and dragons to defend it. And they had succumbed.

The squabbling ended soon enough with agreements made. Oddr would supervise the wall defense while Jor would corral whatever dragons they had into action. Meanwhile, Brimir and Steinn prepared the small number of men and boys they had for combat.

Night fell and rumblings under the earth came with it. He found a quiet spot on the wall that faced the direction the invaders would come from. No one bothered him, which he appreciated. He couldn’t help but think about Drifa and what was to come. He’d used an errand boy to send her a message: Return to Niflheim while you still can.

She hadn’t answered his message or even told her how she felt about the situation. She belonged up north, safe among the Women of the Frost, and not down here with all the fighting. As much as he wanted her by his side, he wanted her safe, too.

“Can you see anything?” Oddr sat down next to him. He jammed a stake with a torch into the wall.

“Only mountains and cold on one end and the desert on the other,” Steinn replied.

Oddr grunted in response.

For a few minutes neither of them spoke until Oddr broke the silence. “I hope they take their time getting here. I’m none too eager to return home. I got a woman waiting for me.”

Steinn would give anything to be done with this mission and return home with Drifa at his side.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“There’re dusty cellars that look far more inviting than what that woman got between her legs.”

“How do you know?” He tried to hold back a laugh and failed.

“She was more than willing to see if my skin was the same color all over.” Oddr cocked a grin.

He chuckled. The wench had to be from the north where men who had Oddr’s coloring weren’t as common. As far as Steinn was concerned, he’d fight side by side with little green men if they took up arms and fought bravely.

“Care to hedge any bets on our survival?” Oddr was chatty tonight.

“Freya will come to our aid—as she has done in the past.” If Freya didn’t help them, he’d help himself. For Drifa’s sake as well as the people of the Outlands.

Sitting for so long had stirred hunger in his belly. From his pack he pulled out dried meat. Oddr took a portion he offered.

“I didn’t ask how Freya would do with invaders from the heavens crashing down,” Oddr said between bites. “I asked about us. How you and I and the others will fair against them.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know—what I believe is that Freya descended from the heavens on a pregnant dragon to Muspellheim and from there she sprinkled seedlings of what became us. From the dragon came the twins, the red and the white.”

Oddr harrumphed with exasperation as if he already grew tired of Steinn’s words. He wasn’t the first man Steinn had encountered who didn’t believe in the Gods. “I never believed in any supreme being. Your story is nothing more to me than a tale for children. What I do believe in is the strength in my hands.” He gestured to the south. “Something has come for us. Something far more powerful than a damn woman riding a dragon. Now do you believe we can take those bastards down?”

The small smile on his face grew wider. Freya had to be smiling in the heavens, too. “I’ve never believed in anything more in my life.”

***

The piercing noise from horns along the wall came first.

One moment Drifa was playing with the hatchlings in the dragon keep, and in the next, chaos erupted everywhere. Bells rang from structures close to the wall and the noise grew louder as more bells joined the chorus.

It was time to fight.

Beyond the homes and the wall, she couldn’t make out anything in the murky darkness to the south. The opaque wall came closer and closer. Almost as if a cloud ate away at the night.

Which meant only one thing: a sandstorm was coming.

“Only at a time like this…” she mumbled.

All around her the dragon handlers jumped to action preparing the dragons for battle. The other warriors and their mounts had left the dragon pen long ago to circle the skies and defend the wall—she’d have to find her own transport.

As the men took to the skies on dragons barely old enough to hold the weight of one man, she sucked in a curse. The wind around them picked up and the tattered flag for the keep began to flap madly.

The storm had reached them.

With little visibility left, all she could make out was bright flares that shot from the sky to the ground. The red dragons had begun their assault.

And damn it all, the boys had left her behind to have all the fun.

Her first inclination was to approach the poor Dragonmaster to see if he had anything, but he ran about shouting useless orders.

“Gather the hatchlings and go to the river,” he barked. “Evacuate as many as you can in case the wall doesn’t hold.”

She searched the keep for any mounts to take—if she had to steal one so be it.

By the time she spotted one, with an unfortunate warrior about to get on, she didn’t make it halfway across the wide expanse of the courtyard before an explosion slammed everyone into the ground.

The side of her head hit the stiff dirt hard, knocking her teeth together. Clutching her head, she wondered if her vision was failing her and it was dust in her eyes and not flames raining down from the sky. Ribbons of yellow and orange rocketed to the ground and crashed into homes.

“No…” she whispered.

Screams filled the air as smoke blended with the biting sand that nipped at her exposed skin.

More voices ordered others to run to the river to find safety on the boats going downstream.

She couldn’t sit here. She had to help in some way. A few steps south lead her toward a burning house. The heat radiated against her out stretched hand and drew her in with persistent tugs.

Come taste me, the fire seemed to beckon.

A hint of magic lingered inside her—that was a good sign. But when she swept her hand near the flames, that overwhelming need to consume the fire wasn’t there. It was as if she didn’t thirst for it anymore.

She pressed her hands against her face, expecting cold. What she found was far worse—she produced barely enough cold to chill meade in a cup. Damn it.

Another explosion shattered a section of wall to the southwest and jolted her out of the moment. She couldn’t stay here anymore trying to make something work that wasn’t meant to be anymore. A moment of regret at her lack of abilities passed through her, but she shoved it aside. Lamenting could come after she helped these people.

But how? Her gaze flicked to the south and then the west to where villagers ran for the river. She had to make a choice. Fight with what little she had or escape. The moment she took a step sound her march turned into a run.

Steinn, you better be alive and fighting!

By the time she reached the wall, bits of it littered the streets. Through the wide cracks in the wall, she made out flares of light from the red dragons—and one beautiful bright white light. Knurre and Steinn continued to fight.

Her face broke out into a wide smile, only to have that smile die a ghastly death. No more than a hundred paces away men in light gray coats marched over what was left of the wall. They spilled into the city and some of them came her way.

She clenched her fists. She had hardly any magic and not a weapon to her name other than her blade. As much as she wanted to fight, only a daft fool would toss rocks at men who could bring her down easily. She darted toward the Frost River and didn’t look back.

***

Freya give me strength.

Steinn kept chanting that phrase again and again. Holding tight to his resolve as tightly as he held the reins. All he could do was lean close to his dragon while the animal dove and plowed through the invaders.

Sand from the storm stung his eyes, but he ignored the pain and focused on guiding Knurre to the targets closing in on the city.

Targets galore stormed the gates. There had been too many of them. Before the wall had caved in, he’d focused on culling the first wave. Sweep after sweep, battling brisk winds and sand crawling into his eyes and mouth, he steered Knurre to burn and freeze anything in their path.

All the while he had to ignore the nagging feeling that Drifa was within the city’s walls. No matter how strong she always tried to be, she was still a flesh and bones woman capable of being broken.

So far everything progressed as planned—until a stray gust of wind knocked them off course. He pulled hard on the reins to the right to return them back to hitting the next wave. But that damn stubborn dragon bucked hard as if he’d had enough of taking Steinn’s orders.

“Not now, you scaly, son-of-a—!” he grated.

The other warriors dove and soared around him, avoiding return fire from the invaders, but the dragon’s strange behavior sent them spiraling away from the wall to the smaller mountains to the west.

“Stop!” He lost the reins, cursing as he clung with whitened knuckles to the saddle. “The city is burning!”

His stomach lurched from the hard spin and he shut his eyes, breathing hard through the maneuver. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. If he let go he was done for. One moment he heard the roar of the wind and in the next he hit a snowdrift hard and rolled over the snow to a dizzying stop.

A blackout should’ve come next. He’d hit his head hard enough to knock some sense into him. He was a fool to think Knurre could be controlled. That dragon better hope his sword wasn’t within reach…He stretched out his hand, finding nothing but crisp snow mixed with dirt. He’d landed somewhere along the lower hills to the mountains.

He wavered to stand, hoping that white demon was close enough for him to strike. Close enough for him to take the reins and use the thick ropes to choke the dragon until it moved no more. But he caught no sight of the dragon until his gaze swept the turbulent sky. The lizard flew east. The saddle hung off the side and the reins trailed in the wind.

“Knurre!” he roared.

The blur of white disappeared into the darkness and didn’t return.

Steinn had no choice but to watch with rising fury as what remained of the city wall crashed into the ground and the invaders’ metallic monster plowed through it. There was nothing between them and the Women of the Frost now.

10

Drifa helped the last villager onto the escaping boats as they headed south down the river.

“You should get on, Lady,” a longboat captain urged. The others flashed him urgent looks to cast off and flee. She was nothing more than a fool who wished to stay behind.

“Take these people to safety. My place is north of here with the Women of the Frost.” For good measure she nodded to the man who secured the boat to the pier and walked away from them.

The city burned beyond the pier and all she could do was hide among the shadows. There wasn’t anything to fight anymore unless the invaders had left those machines behind like before. Their monstrous grumbling carrier had rumbled through leaving nothing but flattened, burning homes and dead bodies. The dragon’s keep was a charred hole in the ground. The stench in the air weighed heavy on her shoulders.

They had failed these people.

Whatever power her family’s lineage had given her had diminished the moment she had laid with Steinn. Flashes of him crossed her vision. His smile. The way he looked at her from across a field or the sky. She might never see him again.

The sandstorm had receded. Other than smoke, not a single dragon was in sight. Her friends must’ve flown to the north after the invaders. As to whether they’d live to come for her she didn’t want to guess. She stumbled as her thoughts distracted her.

Letting regret overcome her wasn’t the best plan either. She forced herself to move when she slowed down. She was still Drifa Ragnardottir. The chieftain’s eldest daughter. She’d been summoned to make things right. If she had to find a boat, anything hollowed out would do, then she’d do it to fulfill her obligations. She’d reach the north and join the others to protect the Women of the Frost.

She returned to the pier to find all the boats gone. The only thing that remained was a fishing boat half submerged in the icy water. Which meant she needed to walk. Not the fastest conveyance, but sitting around wasn’t an option.

So she began to walk toward the snowline beyond the city. Each step was progress into Niflheim. Establishing a goal firsthand was important, right?

By the time the snow crunched under her leather boots and the mountains grew taller, she spotted someone waiting on a hill not far from her.

A laugh escaped from her mouth and she couldn’t stop. “Where have you been, Steinn?”

“Waiting for you after a very long walk,” he replied. “What took you so long?”

***

The long walk had been good for Steinn’s bitter mood. Seeing Drifa’s beautiful face, even more so. Even if the Gates to the Frost had fallen, she’d survived and now he had a chance to take her away from all of this.

As to how he’d do that was another matter.

They rested for a bit on a rocky ledge along the snow. She didn’t shiver once, even with her thin cloak.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“You get used to it after a while. Haven’t you gotten used to it after looking for Knurre in Niflheim?”

Just thinking about the dragon made his stomach clench with anger. “That was a few years ago. I was a lot more foolish back then.” He sighed as much more pleasant thoughts came to mind. “My uncle took me so many places, but none of them prepared me for the far north.”

She nodded and urged him to get up so they could walk again. Getting up was hard. He’d have bruises for days from the rough landing.

“Is that where you found Knurre?” she asked.

“As a child I heard the legends. That the ice dragons roamed all over Niflheim, but when I searched none of them could be found until I explored beyond the stronghold of the Women of the Frost into the far reaches of the north. Once there I discovered where they hid away so finding a dragon for us was merely a waiting game.”

She looked away when he’d said the words “for us,” but he kept going.

“I found an overhang with adequate shelter from the winds where I could place my tent.” She didn’t interrupt him while he talked about his hunt across the icy plains. How the dragons had hunted him instead of him following them.

“How did you survive?” she finally asked. She was pretty when her smile revealed her dimple.

“Apparently, I don’t taste very good.”

Her mouth dropped open. “One of them tried to eat you?”

“Knurre, that scaly bastard, grabbed me like this—” he demonstrated with clenched fists. “And he bit me on the shoulder. The moment he pierced my flesh he let go for some reason. We’ve been together ever since then.” His voice trailed off.

“I happen to think you taste just fine.”

“Oh, do you now?” His mouth dried and his cock stirred in his trousers.

The way she parted her lips nearly did him in. Her tiny pink tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip and he clenched his fists. A part of him itched to fling her over his shoulder and find a sheltered spot to claim her womanhood. In moments it would be over and afterward she’d never be able to return to the north—but that very act would bring her pain.

He had to talk about something else before he entertained such madness. She spoke first.

“We have to reach the others, but we don’t have the supplies or the clothing to cross the mountains.” She bit her lower lip as if in thought. “We’re stuck.”

He didn’t have the means to return her to the Women of the Frost and he couldn’t rejoin the others. Not without a dragon. Fending off the invaders was a problem he couldn’t fix either.

Not without Knurre’s help.

He took in the view, not expecting her to settle into his lap.

“Share your warmth with me,” she said softly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, draping her cloak over him, too. Her softness pressed against him and he only dared to steady her place in his lap by holding her waist. Did she sense his unease? How his stomach tightened into vicious knots and his heartbeat sped up like mad? Her forehead was close enough to his lips for him to sample her skin. To further add to his agony she tilted her head and drew her cheek along his jaw until her lips rested against his pulse point. He couldn’t contain the moan that escaped his mouth.

This wasn’t the time or the place, but he wanted to taste her secrets again. To feel her tremble while he brought her pleasure. His right hand rode the curve of her hip, over her breast, to reach the delicate line of her collarbone. His fingertips traced circles in the dip between her breasts until he caught something faint thrumming against his touch.

It was her heartbeat. It raced as wildly as his. Did that mean she felt the same way he did?

“What do we have to do to rejoin the others?” she whispered, breaking the silence. “You’re hiding something. What are you keeping from me, Steinn?”

He sat like stone for a moment. “You must choose me, Dri. Be my woman. Only as a united front can we control Knurre and help any of the warriors who’ve gone north after the invaders.” His grip on her hip tightened. “But I won’t force you to do this with me. You’ve shown me countless times that you don’t want me.”

After his confession, he expected her to agree. To reject him again like last night. Hadn’t he exposed his soul multiple times to her? It took everything he had to get off that bed the other night and let her go.

After a moment of silence, a sweet blush touched her cheeks and she pressed her mouth against his. She didn’t kiss him though. Perhaps it was a promise of something more. He felt her fingertips, ever so slowly caress the sides of his face down to the stubble on his chin. The light touch made him shudder.

Oh, how I want you, Dri.

He had a final chance right now to change her mind. If he wanted to, like any chieftain he could’ve simply told her she was going back north. He could’ve dragged southward until they found a town and a boat to take her back to the Women of the Frost.

But in his heart he didn’t want to. They were meant to be paired. His body yearned to be connected to hers. Just holding her made him itch for them to be skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart like when she’d slept.

Finally, she made her intention quite clear. “So where are we going then to find Knurre? Do you think he returned back to where he came from?”

Not likely. Knurre was smarter than most dragons, but the beast had no interest in going that far away. Somehow the two of them always ended up back together—even if they were apart for days or weeks.

“He flew east.”

So they walked together away from the mountains and the snow until they returned to the southbound river. From there they travelled to the east.

After a few hours, she asked him, “How long do we have to walk? Is this always how you find your dragon?”

He shrugged. Knurre never made sense. Only time would be wasted trying to figure out why that stubborn lizard made the decisions it made. “My brother would always follow him away.” He sighed. “I regret giving him such a task. I should’ve allowed him to ride. To learn how to defend the clan against danger. He never complains.”

At his side she nodded as if she understood. “We all make choices we believe are in the best interest of others, but we hurt them instead.”

Their walk led them into the hilly plains to the northeast of the gates. The mountains were still visible to their left and weighed on his mind. Perched on a soft bed of dirt, the failed savior of the Gates of the Frost snored without a care.

What a waste of strength and power.

If he could make a fine tunic, boots, and coat with the beast, he would’ve done it already.

“Knurre!” he snapped.

A single ear rose, but the dragon didn’t budge. Not far from the beast, the saddle and his pack lay in a heap. At least they had supplies.

They approached the lizard—with Steinn going first.

“So what do we do now?” she asked him.

“We setup camp. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Her stomach had growled plenty of times during their walk to concern him.

Preparing the camp was a simple affair of setting up crystals for warmth and offering her food. She didn’t say much while he spoke.

“My uncle told me the white dragons could be bound to a rider in a manner much deeper than the reds.” She listened quietly while he continued. “I thought all this time it was about me choosing a dragon, but instead it was Knurre who picked me as his rider. And now he must choose you as well.”

She swallowed the meat slowly. “And what happens if he doesn’t want me?”

Steinn’s jaw twitched. “He’ll attack you and after that I will kill him.”

Once she finished eating she left his side to go to the dragon. Approaching from the head or tail wasn’t wise so she went to where the saddle had sat. Steinn followed close behind her. After all the times Knurre had attacked her, Steinn couldn’t shake the unease from his body. This had to be done, but he wondered if there wasn’t another way to do it.

By the time she got close, the dragon stirred to life, but didn’t make an aggressive move. Like a snake waiting to strike. He’d been around the lizard long enough to sense when it was ready to attack desert moles or other animals that got too close to its wide mouth.

Drifa extended her hand toward the wide expanse of white scales along Knurre’s belly. The dragon’s ribcage slowly expanded and contracted—a good sign that meant the beast was relaxed. Matter of fact, all Knurre did was angle its head away from her extended hand. And yet the need to stand between them circled his stomach. If the beast lunged for her, there was only so much he could do.

She got even closer until she touched the dragon. Growing bolder, she ran her hand along the creature’s flank, up its long neck until she reached the mouth. Her fingertips brushed against the tip of Knurre’s snout and the breath he held came out in a rush. Drifa’s lithe fingers traced a circle under the scaly chin and drew upward. An innocent smile touched her lips and he blew out a sigh of relief.

“You’re nothing more than a playful puppy,” she whispered to Knurre. She tapped hard against the firm muscle along its neck. She continued down along his neck until she reached the place where the saddle had been. The dragon’s head didn’t so much as twitch. Matter of fact, the only movement came from the smooth undulation of its tail, the flutter of its wing tips.

His white dragon had finally chosen her as his second rider. But one act still remained.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can still return to Niflheim.” His throat grew dry, but he managed his words.

Her head turned and just seeing her beaming at him filled him with desire. “We’ve faced so many things. Every time we survived I believed I was one step closer to walking away from you to go back north, but I need you more than I need them. My heart is here with you. With you by my side I’m prepared to face the consequences.” She shrugged off her cloak and left it on Knurre. His gaze watched the sway of her hips as she strode toward the tent he erected. Her dress clung to her curves.

His heartbeat quickened. For each step she took, he took one with her—until he couldn’t take it anymore. He strode faster, finally reaching for her to gather her in his arms.

11

Steinn had never kissed her so fiercely before. His hands roamed all over her body, reaching and stroking the places she wanted to be touched. Once he released her lips, a question remained.

“What happens next?” she asked him.

“As my woman you deserve a proper bed for your first time.”

It left her breathless to see him feeling the same. “Does that mean we’re not going to do anything, then?”

He laughed. “We’re gonna do something all right. You have no idea what you do to me. Do you need further evidence?”

“Oh, I can learn just fine on my own.” Boldly, she swept her hand down his chest to the belt holding up his trousers.

He stopped her hand. “I just wanted things to be clear between us. That I wanted for us to marry this winter like we were supposed to—with a ceremony, a beautiful dress for you. All the things a maiden looks forward to having.”

“None of that mattered to me. Only you.”

His eyes darkened, his lips lingering over hers.

“If you’re still bothered about this I could change my mind—I’ve got a good thing going with the Women of the Frost,” she said.

He chuckled and undid the buttons on her dress.

She kept going unable to stop a coy smile from spreading across her face. “They feed me. They have a never-ending supply of crystals—”

He kissed the bare skin along her neck, eliciting a long sigh from her.

She continued while he kept undressing her. “I don’t have to worry about raiders—”

“Invaders,” he added while running his hands down her waist. “You have to worry about those.” Before she could speak again he joined their lips together. His eager hands tugged up her dress, inch-by-inch until the chill in the air touched every part of her skin. There was no dim room to hide every imperfection from him, but he showed no sign of displeasure. His heated gaze roamed over her from her legs up to her eyes.

“I need you to warm me up again,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

“I’ll do that everywhere.” He picked her up and enclosed her in his cloak. The tent only blocked the wind, but he did as promised, stroking her skin until flames raked her body. Whatever she asked for he gave.

“You’re mine,” he breathed against her lips. His gaze locked with hers. Something about his eyes had changed though. They’d lightened—almost as if she was staring into Knurre’s light blue eyes. He continued to watch her as his head descended. He wanted her to see. To observe her reaction as he pleasured her. His lips closed over her nipple and she moaned softly. Swirl after swirl of his tongue danced over the pink tip. Flick after slow flick. Her hips bucked from the intoxicating pleasure.

She squirmed underneath him, impatient to remove his clothing. There’d be no more barriers between them. First came the gauntlets on his arms and legs. After she discarded his tunic, she didn’t hesitate to undo his belt and remove his trousers.

His member sprang forth, long and firm, but she wasn’t afraid. She was all the more eager to be with him. Body-to-body, his warmth folded over her, making her forget any chill.

After a long kiss, he still hadn’t shifted to between her legs. He lingered over her mouth, languishing in the pleasure of sampling her lips.

Her powers would be gone soon, but that didn’t matter as she drew his hips closer. His cock brushed against her core and she quivered from the sensation. All she needed was him and this moment. This place where no one could keep them apart.

He entered her slowly, stretching her body to accommodate his length.

He hissed long and hard. “Oh, my sweet, you’re so tight,” he whispered into her mouth.

The pain was blissfully short.

Drifa clung to him, breathless from the rising heat where their bodies joined together. His hips froze, holding her in place while his tongue continued to spear her mouth. His assault wasn’t fast, but sensuous and slow. A lazy dip of his tongue to brush against hers again and again. The delicious pace of his kissing forced a long moan from deep in her chest that raced down to her core.

“Don’t do that me, Dri.” His hips flexed. “I can’t control myself when you do that.”

“What did I do?” she whispered.

“You’re so tight around my cock. It feels so good.”

Her breath caught, and she fought the heat creeping into her cheeks from hearing him say those words.

The first pulse of his hips was tentative. A slow thrust that forced her to release the breath she held. “I’ve dreamt of this,” he said against her lips. Every kiss brought more heat. More passion. The pace of Steinn’s thrusts quickened. They rocked against the ground with a steady rhythm. “You lying beneath me like this with your legs wrapped around me while I’m inside you.”

Something built up inside her again. That delicious feeling similar to when he’d pleasured her with his tongue. Only this time she felt like flowing lava. Glowing and bubbling and ready to erupt.

He panted and pumped his hips faster until the waves of pleasure sucked her in, crashing down upon her until nothing was left but him and her. Above her his muscles turned to steel and his breath came out as a long hiss.

For a while he lay on top of her and she didn’t care. She welcomed his weight.

She’d left the sisters behind, and what she got in return was the love of her life. Drifa told herself that regrets would be a thing she’d face tomorrow instead of tonight.

***

Steinn didn’t want the moment to end. He was already getting hard again even though he’d just filled her with his seed. But he held himself still. She was wonderfully soft. Her skin smooth and sweet in the places where he ran his nose along her neckline. He could lie like this for a while and savor having her close to him.

They were paired now. Mated as man and woman. The Goddess Freya had blessed this union and answered his prayers.

He tasted her neck, savoring the sweetness he found there. Thoughts of the dangers they faced ahead faded away again and all he could think about was his contentment in being with her. The time they’d had apart hadn’t stopped him from loving her and now that he had her back he wouldn’t let her go. Even if he had to face the Women of the Frost again.

Her channel stretched and pulsed around his cock. Damn, that felt delightful. In response, he withdrew, only to push deep inside her wet warmth again.

“Are we doing it again?” she asked softly. Her words stretched out with a cat-like purr.

“Would you like to do it again?” He kissed her lips. “Are you sore?”

She laughed a bit. “Very much so—but the pain isn’t that bad.”

He immediately withdrew. After waiting so long his eagerness to make love to her again had gotten the best of him.

“Don’t we have to go to Knurre and ride north?” she added.

“We have time.” He was willing to find the time to hear her come again.

Something hard bumped him on his back. Steinn twisted fast to see a white snout up close and personal. The dragon blinked and took them in. The tent had offered little privacy.

“Knurre!” he yelled.

“Oh!” she gasped and backed away.

“Did you call for me? I heard my name.” They heard a voice—most certainly not from Knurre. The lizard’s mouth hadn’t moved, yet the way Knurre stood there, its large lizard head checking them out, that strange smile it always presented, made Steinn believe it had actually spoken to them somehow.

“Oh dear,” that peculiar voice added, “what happened to your mating shaft? I’m sorry it’s so small.”

Had it really checked out his private bits?

“Over there!” Steinn pointed toward the field where the dragon had been resting before. “Go over there and wait for us.”

“If you say so, but you’re the one that called my name and not the other way around.” The dragon slowly turned and lumbered back to its spot. “Although I do find it amusing how many times the female called your name out not too long ago.”

By the time Knurre’s back was turned away from them, Steinn used his cloak to cover Drifa’s nakedness.

“What in the two moons just happened?” she murmured. Her gaze was fixed on Knurre.

“It has to be our pairing. I’ve never heard a voice coming from him before. Just growls and farts.”

“So the fact that we...” she tried to finished but didn’t.

“Made love, yes.” When a deep flush reddened her face, he offered her her clothing and gave her a moment. “I’ll let you be shy now, woman, but I plan to make love to you many more times in the future.”

“Enough with the teasing.” She smiled. He’d enjoy calling her his woman from now on.

Giving her privacy, he faced Knurre and redressed. The dragon was in the middle of the field. Instead of sleeping it had rolled onto its back and it wiggled as if to scratch an itchy spot on its back. When he finally approached it, Knurre’s new talkative nature popped up again.

“I don’t know how you, Varmr-Líkami manage to wear dead animals on your body,” it said. “How do you scratch anything?”

“Varmr-Líkami?” The dragon had used the old tongue. The words meant ‘warm body.’ He gestured to scratch the dragon and Knurre eagerly offered its side.

“That is what my people call you. You are the scaleless so the name fits.”

“I see.” He kept scratching. Usually Knurre moved where he wanted him to go, but this time orders came.

“To the left. Right there. I think I have an ash tick or something. Could you pluck it out with your mouth?”

“Uh. No.” Their relationship had been much better when it couldn’t speak.

Thank goodness, Drifa appeared at his side. “I’m ready.”

“Where are we going?” Knurre asked.

“To the north. We must fly to intercept the invaders who are on the way to the Women of the Frost.”

“That won’t take long at all!” Knurre shifted for them to get on. Drifa approached the front, but Knurre stepped out of the way.

“I ride in the back,” Steinn said.

“That isn’t your place,” the lizard said firmly.

“What did you say to me—”

“She was meant for the back seat,” Knurre said. “Not you. I’m not sure if you haven’t noticed, but I hated it when you dug your grimly little heels into me when you rode there.” The beast angled himself for Drifa to get on the back and she obliged him with a grin.

“It’s nice to have my own seat,” she patted Knurre from her new spot. “I don’t have to hold onto someone else since there is a handle here.”

The dragon winked at her. “Ladies first.”

Steinn got on and couldn’t resist mumbling about damn fucking stubborn lizards. He had to admit though, his preference was solely based on experience. He’d always rode in the back. That seat was the larger of the two and more comfortable during battle.

He turned around to see Drifa give him a sly grin.

I get to ride in your spot, her expression said.

“I hope you keep smiling while you’re defending our asses.”

She patted his shoulder and winked. “How about you worry about where we’re going and I’ll handle myself just fine.”

12

Having the back seat on Knurre was worth it.

Even without the unencumbered view, the wind still flowed through her hair.

At first she held tight to the handle that protruded from the saddle, but as they flew higher she slowly let go. The northern air tasted sweet—different so much better than the south. A current in the air brushed against all the bare skin along her face and hands. Prickling sensations from different directions that she never noticed before. She stretched out her arms and felt the wind pushing underneath. The realization was exhilarating. She was a part of Knurre now.

She sensed Steinn stiffened in front of her when she released the handle, but she paid him no mind. Knurre didn’t need to be told where to go. Not anymore.

The snow-capped mountains grew again in the distance. She was returning to her previous home—not as a witch—but as a woman who had broken her vow.

“You two might want to hold on,” Knurre said. “I’m about to pick up a nice current here and we’re gonna pick up speed real fast.”

The dragon had never warned them before so she grabbed the handle and dug her heels into the stirrups. Steinn leaned forward and she did the same.

“Let’s see what you can do, dragon!” Steinn said with a lively chuckle.

Knurre tucked his body in and dived hard—only to soar hard to left and catch the wind. The force hit her hard in the face, a shrill whistle filling her ears. All she could do was blink rapidly and hold onto the handle. Knurre leveled out a bit, but their speed, which had once been comfortable, was no longer dizzying.

She couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling at the back of her throat as they flew. The trip took no time at all for them to reach the fortress for the Women of the Frost. Just seeing the imposing two-story castle made her insides quiver. Since no one ever attacked them, not a single defensive structure stood between them and the invaders. No walls. No towers. Compared to the Gates to the Frost, this place practically beckoned the invaders to raid the crystal storage field right behind it.

Knurre touched down without difficulty on a landing on the second floor. She was relieved to see the other red dragons waiting for them. It was Brimir who emerged from indoors first. She waited to see the other witches join him, but she never came out.

That made her all the more afraid to face them in her condition.

Brimir grunted. “What took you so long, boy?”

Steinn’s right eyebrow rose. “After my mount bucked me off I had to chase after him.”

Thankfully, he didn’t mention specifically why they’d been detained.

“How long until they arrive?” Steinn asked.

“Half a day. Maybe less than that.”

Steinn faced the south and nodded. He’d looked about and had most likely noticed what she had. That this place was utterly defenseless.

“Have you had any luck in the preparations?” Steinn asked him.

“Aye. They got a bunch of sticks—if you’d call that anything. What they did give us is an advantage. Once Oddr spots them creeping up close those ladies will bring about the storm of a lifetime.”

Calling a storm was serious business. Only the high priestess could accomplish such and after the storm hit she’d no longer control it. The dragons would be flying in blind with winds meant to push snow south over a large area.

With their new connection, she sensed Knurre crowding the other red dragons out of the way for a comfortable spot against the wall. They hissed and snapped at him, but shrank away when he got close.

As she gazed in the direction Steinn looked, her heart sank. They had no choice but to trust in Knurre’s strength and the cover the witches could offer them.

13

Seeing the mighty power of the Women of the Frost was a sight to behold. A group of fifteen women, clad in white cloaks, marched out to the landing. The youngest woman in the front carried an urn burning with incense that stung Stein’s nostrils.

Drifa prostrated before them as they passed, but they ignored her. He grunted with displeasure. If the warriors didn’t need the witches’ magic right now, he’d show them what he really thought of their manipulative ways.

Once at the edge they gathered in a circle.

For the longest of time they stood there. Long enough for Steinn to wonder what they meant to do. All that time Drifa remained with her forehead on the cold stone. He should’ve made her stand, but he’d seen her eyes as the women entered. Longing was still there. Her three years with them wasn’t something she could so easily cast aside.

A chill drifted in, and with it, the first snowflakes fell from the sky. By the time the first one hit his palm, the women broke their circle and returned indoors.

Drifa followed them and he didn’t stop her. His place was out here and they’d talk later when this place was safe again.

The snow picked up and the wind stirred the snowdrifts along the ground. The lights from Heaven’s Claw stretched across the sky and created a haze that cast strange shadows across the mountains.

Under normal circumstances he couldn’t make out anything among the dark crags and crannies along the icy waters and mountains, but now that he was linked to Knurre, what had been murky now was clear.

A bulky mass approached the fortress, a plume of smoke trailing from the top. And the only path it could take over the hilly landscape to reach the crystal storage cave would be through the witches’ home.

“What is that thing?” Knurre stretched out beside him and took in the view from the old fortress roof.

“Death from above.”

Brimir ran to his side. “Do you see something? I was about to send out Oddr.”

“They’re coming.”

The man chuckled. “About time. I was about to walk in circles and start talking to myself after inhaling all those fumes from those witches' urns.” He left Steinn’s side to speak to the others.

Knurre took a step toward the edge. “Whatever is coming for us smells strange.”

“You can smell that far away?”

“To my kin it smells foreign.” Against the white landscape the dragon blended in much better.

He turned to Knurre. The dragon’s perspective was a fascinating one. “How would you know that?”

“We speak to one another on the wind.” Knurre’s eyes closed and his wings fluttered. “Their voices are clearer now that I’m in my homeland. We converse, mostly on useless topics of discussion, like you and me, but we don’t require close proximity.”

He nodded, but he was curious about other things. “What are they saying?”

“Danger is coming and the scent is bad. They don’t like it.”

He took a deep breath to relief the tension building in his stomach. “And what do they smell?”

The dragon appeared pensive for a moment.

“They smell crystals and they’re all burning.”

***

Knurre was all too eager to set out into the snow. Even without flight. Dressed in warm clothing and armed with weapons, he prepared to leave—only to have Drifa try to follow him.

“I’m coming with you,” she said vehemently. She’d even armed herself with one of the toothpicks Brimir complained about.

“When you had your witch skills you were a force to be reckoned with, but right now you’re not prepared for hand-to-hand combat.”

“Don’t do this to me, Steinn!”

His jaw twitched. “You will end me if you die tonight before I do, Dri.”

That stopped her flat. Her chest continued to heave and her anger rolled off her in waves, but she sensed his unease. They weren’t even touching but now they shared a bond that tethered their feelings, their anguish and their pleasures.

“Don’t you think I’d feel the same if you died before me? What makes you so special?” Her anger must’ve faded a bit since she smiled.

“Men will die tonight. Someone must be here to make a final stand in case any of them gets through.” He held her close. “You will be that final stand.”

“Have you seen the high priestess? That woman is scary with a blade.”

He grunted in amusement. “Well, you and the old women are the final line.”

“Now that you have manipulated me to remain behind I guess I have no choice but to stay.” He captured her lips, savoring them. Now he sensed her rising excitement, her breathless moment when they parted.

“I love you, woman.”

“I love you, too, Steinn.”

When he left her behind he didn’t look back. It’d be all the more difficult like the day they parted, but at least this time what needed to be said had been said.

The other warriors and their dragons waited for them.

Once everyone was gathered together they marched in single file out of the fortress to cross the snow. They veered far to the right, double-timing to get a good distance to go around them from the rear.

The wind picked up and visibility decreased. The others fell back while Steinn and Knurre took the lead. The dragons weren’t built to travel on land so they ambled about on foot with their wings tucked in their sides. The reds had trouble keeping up with Knurre so they sped ahead.

As they finally approached the hills near the back of the metal beast, they leapt onto the scarred, vibrating structure. Steinn glanced upward, taking in what had to be as tall as one hundred men. Maybe more. Now that they were up close the stench from the burnt crystals seared his nostrils. His dragon attacked first, clamping down on the building with its claws in an attempt to wrench it open. The invader spilled from an opening on the side, yelling out in their guttural tongue. Their weapons fired in their direction, but with such low visibility most of them missed their mark.

Bright light flashed near his dragon’s head.

Keep moving, Knurre.

Not far behind them Brimir and the others brought up the rear. Their element of surprise was successful. The others fought their way into the hole Knurre had made, but it was far too small for the larger dragon.

This time when he summoned the white dragon, Knurre came to him without delay. He jumped on the beast’s back and they scampered up the side.

Show them no mercy for all the deaths they have caused, Knurre.

Knurre complied. It bit and clawed viciously at anyone foolish enough to appear out of openings that emerged along the sheer face. They aimed their weapons, or swung wooden bats at the dragon, but it dodged their fire with blinding speed and crushed them between its jaws.

All the while, even with the howls of the wind it wouldn’t stop chattering away. “Ugh! That one tasted awful. Like an old boot.”

Once they reached near the top they crossed over from the back to the front. Only to spot the offworlders running from the structure. All of them raced for the fortress. Even after the attack at the Gates to the Frost, their numbers were many. More than he knew the words to count. They formed a river of bodies.

“Can you fly in this wind?” Steinn asked.

Knurre made a clicking noise. “Not well, but what fun would it be to stay here and try to eat men who taste like moldy boots?”

The white dragon jumped off the building and the wind pushed them precariously skyward. The shifting gusts jerked them all over the place, but Knurre was all the more eager to engage. He dove toward the racing army, his mouth open wide to spew a wide path of ice. The men shot a wave of fire upward. Another dragon joined them in the air, but landed again back on the structure. The red dragons couldn’t fly in this weather.

“There are too many of them,” Steinn grunted.

The invaders drew closer. Soon enough they’d reach their destination.

Suddenly, more shapes filled the sky from behind the fortress. Steinn couldn’t believe all the beautiful white dragons that descended upon the invaders and crashed into the snow, snapping and hissing at any men who got too close to them.

Oh, Freya what is this…

Her ice children had numbers way beyond anything he imagined. The reds supposedly were in the hundreds, but countless white dragons swarmed over the hillside and descended like a radiant wraith over the structure and men as they scattered away from this new enemy. Knurre joined them with Steinn riding along. He was no longer in control. The white dragons shrieked as they ripped the invaders apart, tossing their limbs and bloodied bodies into the snow. Their claws pulled the metal off the tower, mashing away at the contraption that stuttered before it came to a violent stop.

When the last man moved no more and the rolling enemy was nothing but a heap of snow-covered scraps, the dragons began to retreat. One moved and then all of them scattered over the hills or took flight into the murky darkness.

Knurre helped him find the others and guided them back to the fortress.

A lone woman waited on the landing and waved at them.

14

The next morning, it was time for them to face the high priestess. One matter had to be settled: Drifa’s obligation to them.

Now that the storm had cleared, the sisters took to the landing outside to hear her plea.

Steinn had all but expected the other warriors to leave, but they had stayed to observe.

Once the women took their place with Drifa standing before them, he stepped forward to have his thoughts known. “Before you speak, I want you to know I’m aware of her role with your sisterhood and I will respect whatever decision my woman will make.”

The witches whispered among themselves.

The older woman, who had to be the high priestess, didn’t appear amused. “She is of no use to the sisterhood any longer.”

At his side Drifa didn’t react only casting her gaze to the ground out of respect.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“The moment you took her as your woman, she broke her pact with the Women of the Frost. Her clan will suffer for her insolence.”

“Suffer?” This hiss didn’t come from him, but from Knurre. The dragon twitched from its place against the wall. “Vicious female!”

Knurre rushed the older woman, only to stop a few feet away. Chaos erupted on the landing as the other witches scampered backwards, swords drawn. No one expected such an act from one of the untethered dragons. The high priestess extended a blade without fear.

His gaze never leaving the older woman, Knurre growled at Steinn. “Interpret what I say Varmr-Líkami, word for word.”

“Stay calm, friend.” He reached for Knurre’s reins, but the dragon’s hard stare made him think otherwise.

“Interpret!”

He nodded and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Would that stubborn dragon really kill a Woman of the Frost?

The dragon continued. “The female, called Drifa, is bonded to me and therefore she is bonded to the white dragons. Her kin are my kin now. When you strike against them, you are attacking the dragons.” His wings twitched with agitation and Steinn waited for a strike, but none came. He interpreted the words as desired. “We all have a role to play in this world of fire and ice. When you disturb the balance the Creator has built with her blessed hand, you aren’t using the gifts she has given you. The Varmr-Líkami is in no position to make you answer for your crimes so the ice dragons are more than willing to do what must be done.”

“Who are you to threaten me?” the high priestess hissed.

“We are the ones who hide in the shadows all around you.” Knurre glanced behind her and everyone followed its gaze. White dragons, who’d once blended into the stark landscape, now clung to every rock. Every visible point. And all of them stared right at the high priestess.

“We are the ones who ultimately protected your home,” Stein’s mount hissed. “We could rip apart this place bit by bit and not regret such an action to restore the balance.”

Silence folded over the landing. None of the warriors moved. Only the witches who glanced to the high priestess. Were they waiting for an order from her to attack the dragons? Steinn’s grip on his sword tightened. He’d fight for Drifa if the time came.

The blade in the high priestess’ hand quivered. The muscles in Knurre’s thighs tensed as if the dragon was ready to pounce. Finally, the high priestess’ face scrunched up in annoyance, but she slowly nodded. “My pact with Drifa Ragnardottir’s clan has been rescinded. Drifa, you are free from your obligation to the Women of the Frost.”

***

Once the decree had been made there was no reason for Drifa to remain at the sisters’ fortress. The moment they set her free she left without so much as a word.

As to where they’d go, she didn’t need to tell Steinn where to take her. His home was the place she was meant to be.

The flight home back to the Eik clan lasted a full day, but it was a ride without fear. She had Steinn now and nothing could take him away from her.

Once back home, the days passed with peace and she looked forward to what was to come. Greta, the woman who managed the great hall, was grateful to have another woman on hand to help with the spinning, baking, and such. Compared to her previous life of diligent study, this new one would be harder, but in the end a happier one.

On one particular morning, she took in the pink sky and enjoyed the cool breeze. The winter was coming and with it the festival where they’d be formally married.

She strolled across a barren field and came to a ledge. Not far below she caught two voices in a lively conversation. She caught sight of Steinn’s wide back and the white dragon. Both of them sat on the ground staring at the sky.

“You don’t scratch me all that well,” the dragon complained.

“It’s not like I knew what you wanted before.”

The dragon made a noise that could’ve been interpreted as a harrumph. Silence stretched between them for a moment and she leaned forward to see what they were doing. Then Steinn spoke.

“Why did the white dragons come to protect us?” he asked. Now that was the question she had been curious about ever since they’d returned.

The dragon sighed. “They weren’t protecting us, but the Varmr-Líkami that live within that structure. The land of ice has been slowly disappearing, but they have allowed our home to exist and for us to live in freedom.”

“So why did you attack the high priestess then? Seemed a rather foolish thing to do.”

Knurre grunted. “Haven’t I taught you anything over the years? Most likely not. It was a gamble, and the old Varmr-Líkami played right into it. All those dragons that happened to be there were females who wanted to mate with Hrafn’s dragon.”

“The fat one?”

Drifa held back a laugh.

“Aye, he’s considered fetching for some reason…”

Steinn frowned. “I’m confused about something. So if you protect the Women of the Frost, why did you hate Drifa so much?”

The dragon appeared to roll its eyes. “That’s complicated—but I’ll try to dumb it down for you, Varmr-Líkami. She is your natural mate. I have one too somewhere out there, but that’s a different matter. Anyhow, before you two became a mated pair, I sensed a connection between you and me. It was faint, but not enough for us to work as a cohesive team. But once you two mated, your intentions became as clear as if you spoke directly to my mind.”

Steinn shook his head and she couldn’t resist smiling. That was the best way to describe their life now. What had once been foggy between them was now clear as if the fog had been lifted.

Instead of spending the day helping Greta get the Eik great hall in shape, she sat on a rocky hill above the pair as they conversed like they did now.

As much as she loved sneaking up on them, she held back a laugh when the dragon tilted its head to the side and winked at her.

MORE FROM SHAWNTELLE MADISON

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Books by Shawntelle Madison

COVETED SERIES

Natalya Stravinsky:

Collected (Prequel Novella)

Coveted

Kept

Compelled

Aggie McClure:

Bitter Disenchantment

Tessa Dandridge:

Repossessed: The Warlock Repo Man Chronicles

HADLEY WEREWOLVES

Bitten by Deceit

Bitten by Treachery

Bitten by Vengeance

A VIKING’S PEACE

Vikings in Space

by

Zoe York

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

My fictional planet of Midgard is a long way from the small towns I usually set my romances in, but Reinn and Ashleigh’s story was a joy to write, and I can’t wait to return to this world again in the future. Who doesn’t like a sexy Viking space romp?

About A Viking’s Peace: Thrown together in an intergalactic diplomatic mission, Reinn and Ashleigh know they must fight the burning attraction between them. But this Viking has finally found his mate, and nothing else matters.

All of my stories share a common theme of second chances, and if you like this one, I encourage you to check out my other series. If you join my mailing list, you’ll hear about all my new releases, including opportunities to read my latest story before it’s released for sale.

~Zoe

1

The year: 2254

“How long before one of those goons beds a Viking maiden?”

Lieutenant Ashleigh Tavistock rolled her eyes at her second-in-command’s rhetorical question. Sergeant Navena Johnson knew exactly how to push her buttons. “Officially? Never. Unofficially, I don’t want to know.”

“Maybe you need to indulge in a little unofficial fun while we’re stationed on Midgard.”

Ashleigh snorted. “And get hauled back to Earth? Not going to happen. It’s a miracle that I was selected for this mission. I’m not going to fuck that up.”

Less than two years out of the FedNat Officer Academy, she’d been prepared to not see a deep space mission for another five. When her predecessor came down with viral Guaravian fever and had to be quarantined, Ashleigh had been in the right place at the right time. Even if she still wasn’t sure the FedNat United Forces was the career for her, she wanted this more than anything. Adventure. New frontiers. Making a difference.

They were in their flight suits in the ship’s cargo hold, strapping themselves into the pop out seats along the perimeter with the rest of their team. They’d been orbiting Midgard for almost a day and it was time for their ship to land.

And the real fun to start.

The pants on, intellectual, diplomacy type of fun.

As if her 2IC could read her thoughts, Navena started laughing. “You’re thinking about what you’re going to say when we land, aren’t you?”

Ashleigh blushed. “How did you know?”

“Your face got all dreamy. It only does that about work. You’re beyond weird.”

“We can make a real difference on this mission. And it starts with the first impression. I know Captain Reynolds will make the formal statement, but there’s going to be someone from the Midgard delegation that I’m going to work with every day and I want to begin on the right foot.”

Navena’s skepticism couldn’t be more obvious. Ashleigh didn’t care. That was Navena’s job, to be on guard so the officers could focus on diplomacy.

There were four teams on board, so-called MIFEC cells, tasked with establishing better relations with the Midgardians.

And Ashleigh commanded a cell. Navena and the goons.

Corporal Trenton Chin and Private First Class Benjamin Worst. Goon 1 and Goon 2. Both good guys, although they had a lot more respect for Navena than they did Ashleigh. Well, fair enough. The other woman had ten years in the Forces. Served in the second wave of peacekeeping forces on the Moon. May or may not have a collection of ancient guns and bayonets. In short—Navena was badass.

Their descent was uneventful and over before she knew it. As the pilot conferred with ground control and the decontamination walkways attached to the side of the ship, Ashleigh took her first real look at Midgard.

The spaceport looked like almost any on Earth, but instead of sprawling suburbia and shopping centres, only high-speed rail lines ran across the dark brown flatlands she could see out the starboard side. In the distance rose the Thorgard Range. She’d memorized the geography of the area. Elsewhere on the planet were sub-settlements of Simple Lifers and religious retreats, but the government was tightly controlled here by the descendants of the original travellers. The Vikings who left Earth in search of the planet discovered by Finn Rasmussen in 2091.

She knew her history. The failed diplomatic efforts of the past wouldn’t be repeated if she had a say. And all accounts pointed to the Midgardians being committed to a better relationship between the two planets of humans as well.

Ashleigh wasn’t stupid. She knew at a high level there were negotiations happening about resource mining and health care provisions. Midgard had precious minerals Earth needed; after the Moon War, Earth had a plethora of mobile hospitals and trained medical staff. There were other trade talks as well, too numerous for the digital news alerts to list even if they blasted updates all day long. But they were anyway, because the people on both planets were demanding transparency in the process.

And there would be hell to pay if the MIFEC cells didn’t pave the way for a renewed friendship between two peoples that shared a common ancestry.

Unless the Vikings didn’t want to be friends. Ashleigh stared out the window again. The other significant difference between this port and the one they’d left in Cape Canaveral was traffic. There wasn’t any. The Midgardians had very limited trade relations with their neighbours. The first travellers had headed far into deep space for a reason.

Maybe this was futile.

A faint hissing cracked the air around them as the airlocks to the decontam walkways rolled open. In teams, they proceeded forward through the familiar mist and into the UV therapy chamber.

After the countdown clock on the wall started flashing, they moved into the arrivals hall on the far side. Teams One and Two were already waiting. Team Four would be half an hour behind. Someone needed to invent a magical wand for that nonsense.

Two Midgardian representatives stood with Ashleigh’s commanding officer, Captain Reynolds, some distance from where they all waited. From the briefings, they all knew what to expect. Once they’d assembled, they would meet their counterparts, be taken to the barrack space set aside for their delegation, and this evening there would be a feast in their honour.

The briefing had been clear on what to expect at the feast as well. Lewd displays of sexuality. Excessive consumption of food and drink. They would be expected to partake in the latter and passively observe the former without judgement.

Ashleigh rocked back on her heels and took in the arrivals hall. Glass and rough wood. Modern amenities and historical reference everywhere. A lot like the Midgardians themselves. They wore their hair long and were clothed in anachronistic garb, but the weapons on their hips were strictly twenty-third century technology. The two men talking to the CO were older, in their late thirties or early forties, tall as oak trees and broad as oxen.

“Hot, aren’t they?” Navena murmured in her ear.

They were, if you liked big, bad older men to toss you around in bed. Navena certainly did.

“Try not to sleep with anyone for the first week, okay?”

“It’s not strictly forbidden.”

“Just strongly discouraged.”

Her 2IC made a snorting noise. “Like I care about my career.”

“Well, I care about mine, so keep it zipped.”

“The sacrifices I make for you, my fearless leader.” Navena snickered as Ashleigh shot her a look that said, if we weren’t in public, I’d whoop your ass…

The heavy thud of footfalls announced the rest of the Midgardian welcome delegation. Eight men, each one taller than the last. Ashleigh felt her 2IC stiffen beside her. Their briefings had told them women served beside men, equals in many ways on Midgard, but that wasn’t evidenced by the official liaison crew now spread out in front of them.

The men formed a line across from them, standing in pairs, and Ashleigh could feel Navena’s visceral reaction. Each set of two men seemed to take up the same amount of space as a 4-person FedNat cell. They were huge. Some blond, some darker haired, but all were fair-skinned, which set them apart from most of the FedNat delegation. There were Asian and African settlements on Midgard, but they came later. The planet was huge and the population relatively small, and anyone who didn’t want to observe the ancient customs ended up heading into the galaxy. The irony wasn’t lost on Ashleigh, but she didn’t know if her hosts thought of it the same way.

Her CO and the head of their delegation were still having a quiet conversation in the centre of the hall so she took a moment to let her gaze drift down the line of Viking men. Careful not to pause or stare, she took in their leather- and metal-accented uniforms. Not quite the right word, since uniformity wasn’t a factor. None of them carried the same weapon or wore precisely the same garments. Some had bare arms, displaying tattooed biceps the diameter of small trees. Others had deep V-neck tunics. Only one wasn’t obviously presenting his muscles, although he looked the largest of the bunch.

Ashleigh’s breath caught in her throat each time she slid her gaze past the dark-haired giant. She could feel his eyes on her, hot and unwavering, and from the way they were assembled, she knew he was her liaison. Damn it all to hell. She was the freaking Ice Queen, immune to testosterone. So why did she feel stripped bare in front of this stranger, obviously feminine under his scrutiny? She bristled inside. If he thought he could intimidate her…on the next pass, deliberately lazy this time, she looked them each in the eye.

Most offered blunt sexual appraisal, which was easy enough to stare down. She just wasn’t that kind of woman—not interested, and not intimidated. Wrong tack, buddies.

But when she reached him, shock roiled in her chest. Obvious dislike and contempt radiated off him. She expected general mistrust of the mission, but this angry gaze felt personal.

Huh. So much for thinking he had the hots for her. Well, that was…she wanted to tell herself it was a relief, but the pang in her gut felt a lot like disappointment.

The formal introductions began and as the teams were matched with their counterparts, it became clear that hers was indeed going to be none other than the brooding hulk. She had her work cut out for her.

“At attention,” she quietly snapped at her cell. Chin and Worst followed Navena’s lead and made her proud as their two assigned hosts approached. She stepped forward as her CO said her name.

“Reinn Ragnarson and Aldric Gunter.” The head of the Viking delegation didn’t bother with rank, which she understood was their custom.

Reinn, the giant, stepped forward. “Lieutenant,” he murmured, the quiet of his voice at odds with the hard look in his eyes.

What was she going to do about that distrust? She held his gaze with a solid look of her own. “Reinn. Thank you for hosting us here in your beautiful homeland. We look forward to learning more about Midgard as you know it.”

He tipped his chin up and held her attention for a moment before sliding his gaze to his second. “Aldric…”

And with a slow released sigh, Ashleigh let herself relax a hair. At least she hadn’t made it worse.

* * *

The spaceport was purposefully sited inland, away from the valuable coastline that all in the Kongerige, the Kingdom, valued so highly. His people weren’t savage, no matter their anachronistic lifestyle preferences, and they valued access to interplanetary travel as much as the next twenty-third century citizen. They just wanted that travel to primarily be away from Midgard, not towards.

Reinn wasn’t stupid. This diplomatic mission wasn’t just about mineral resources. There were ugly, uninhabited planets that Earth could plunder for what they needed. The FedNat delegation was here to play nice and convince his father to ease travel restrictions.

The high-speed rail line sliced through the mountains that separated the desert from the fertile coast. Narrow passes between steep peaks sometimes meant the afternoon sunlight was obliterated and each time that heavy shadow fell over them, the Earthlings gaped at the dark rock walls blurring past the pod windows. He felt a ruthless satisfaction at the obvious awe and wonder their guests had at the natural magnificence of his homeland.

Because it was his homeland. His great-great-grandfather may have been born on Earth, but Reinn’s blood was Midgardian, through and through. No matter what, he thought blackly, just barely holding himself back from scowling in Ulfar’s direction. Some things didn’t need to be shared with outsiders. Not even the fact that he hated his childhood best friend, or that he was in the midst of an existential crisis after divorcing his wife—not an unheard of event on Midgard, but quite unusual for the son of the King. Especially one who grew up believing strongly that his true mate would be delivered to him by the gods. Admitting he’d wed unwisely was a hard pill to swallow.

Reinn was a bitter man, surrounded by cynics. He couldn’t call the company good, but at least it was familiar.

But when he slid a glance back at the young female officer, Tavistock, she wore a look of innocent curiosity that he found himself wanting to satisfy. Was it possible that she truly believed she was here on a diplomatic mission that might accomplish something good? She looked so damn keen, with a raw interest that was wasted outside carnal coupling, in his experience.

And that thought had him back to silently cursing Ulfar, and the woman they’d shared. It wasn’t that he wanted Ylsa back—their relatively painless divorce proved they weren’t true mates to begin with—but rather that Ylsa and Ulfar’s affair had damaged his standing at court. His father could barely look at him now, and Reinn didn’t blame him.

It was mortally embarrassing that he invited his best friend into his marriage bed—a common enough act—and mere weeks later found himself being booted out. Or that he’d married the wrong woman in the first place. His mother liked to say that’s why he’d never managed to procreate with Ylsa, and maybe she was right. His ex-wife was now heavy with Ulfar’s child. And Reinn had no heirs and no wife.

Not the best position for the son of a king, even if he was the second son and the proud uncle of four strapping young boys.

“Could I sit?”

Reinn broke out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed Lt. Tavistock get up and cross the train. He slowly looked up her long, slim body. Shaped like a boy, he tried to tell himself. Tried and failed. Underneath the boxy tunic, he could clearly imagine her delicate curves, the high, tight breasts and a navel perfect for sipping mead from. She was no Valkyrie, but that made her all the more perfect for him.

No, he tried to say. Don’t sit. We’ll switch assignments and you can have someone else. He wanted to hate her, but with a few short sentences she’d completely undone that resolve. You need to go away.

But even as he thought that, he opened his hand and tipped his fingers to the empty seat beside him. “Please,” he murmured, hating himself. No good would come from letting her under his skin.

Where other warriors would celebrate their desire, Reinn failed again. He didn’t take any pride in wanting this young woman. Guilt welled inside his chest and he tamped it down.

“I understand there will be a reception tonight.” She held herself stiffly, properly. He was struck by a sudden, overwhelming need to find the invisible clasp on that tunic and flick it open.  “We’ve been briefed, of course, but I’d like to know what it is that you are most looking forward to.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re talking to the wrong person, Lieutenant. I’m not much for parties.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Most of the time. But I’m eager to partake in one of your famed feasts.”

“All of it?” The question was out of his mouth before he could censor himself.

Her cheeks pinked. “Partake was the wrong word. But I don’t judge your cultural practices.”

Orgies were hardly a vaunted cultural practice. That was more a myth propagated to keep their Earth cousins at bay. Bed sharing was one thing, a private, carnal enjoyment that allowed them to explore the full extent of their human sexuality. It was nothing like the oiled up spectacle that would go on after the meal… “It’s pomp and pretension and I have little time for either.”

She made a surprised face, eyebrows raised and lips twisted to the side. “Surely that’s not the party line?”

“Did you join me for the party line? If so, I’m sure we have a brochure around somewhere…” He craned his neck, looking for non-existent glossy paper handouts appropriate for a tourist cruise. No matter what the pretty lieutenant thought, Midgard wasn’t ready for that.

Her laugh was low and throaty and entirely real. It warmed him from the inside out and he found himself joining her with a chuckle of his own.

“No, I came over here because we’re going to be working together for the next three months, like it or not, and I’d prefer our time be productive.”

He leaned back, casting an appraising glance at her. “You think I don’t like it?”

“I know so.” She offered an apologetic smile. “I’m going to be the optimistic bee in your bonnet, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to that, Lt. Tavistock.” And to his surprise, for the first time since his father assigned him to this godsforsaken project, he honestly could say that was true.

2

Reinn and Aldric stood on the rail platform, waiting patiently for Ashleigh to brief her team. The other cells were already transporting their equipment to the wagons provided at the City Core side of the station. The larger city of Ny København, modern and functional, stretched twenty kilometres in either direction from the walled City Core. Within those walls, however, the government seat and public spaces were a cherished throwback to the ancient history of their people. Transport was restricted to foot, wagon and hoof. Midgardian donkeys didn’t bear a ton of resemblance to their Earth namesakes, other than their general shape and braying sound. The stumpy bone protrusion in the middle of their foreheads and their ethereal coats, shades of creamy white to pale pink, had the first travellers calling them another name, but their function as work animals soon showed that the donkey moniker was more appropriate.

Besides, calling them unicorns would just encourage more Earth nosiness.

Wait until they saw the dragons.

Reinn laughed to himself. Of course the visitors would know about the native fauna, but seeing the flying beasts with one’s own eyes was something entirely different. They weren’t on this continent, so he’d been thirteen when he’d first laid eyes on them. The heavy whoosh of ten-foot wingspan flying overhead still made his heartbeat speed up.

When they arrived at the inn designated for the Earth delegation, Reinn and Aldric escorted the team to their rooms. Not strictly necessary, but if they had any questions…sure, he could convince himself that was why. Not because the thought of being separated from the serious liaison officer made his chest ache a bit.

While the public spaces were throwbacks to a simpler time, the private rooms at the inn were similar to his own home, a creative blend of old and new. Ashleigh’s eyes lit up at the water bath, and he was reminded that she’d been on a spaceship for two months. Ozone showers were functional but not pleasurable. His single journey away from Midgard had been washed away in the deepest, most glorious soak in his outdoor tub as soon as he returned home.

“You have time,” he said gruffly. “If you want to bathe.”

The door to her room was open, but they were essentially alone. Her second was across the hall, and Aldric was showing her two men how to connect to the central network from the ports in their rooms. He’d meant the suggestion to be hospitable, but just the mention of her slipping naked into a tub sparked a hot, itchy awareness between them. He saw it in her eyes and felt it in the air.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice catching. “The decontam…” She trailed off, her gaze flitting back to the tub.

“Go ahead.” He kept his voice low. “Our water…you’ll find it enjoyable.”

She shot him a wide-eyed look. Yes, he meant it just like that. That hadn’t made it into their briefing notes, apparently. But just as quickly as she’d let her guard down, it was back up again. She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked one carefully manicured brow. “In that case, it sounds like something one should approach with great caution.”

Why was he flirting with her when she obviously didn’t want him to? She was small and quiet, not at all his type—except his type hadn’t been doing it for him for quite some time and one look at this woman and he wanted to find the nearest pile of furs and spread her legs. Bury his face in the heaven there and show her how a Viking could use his tongue. The way she blushed, she might even be a virgin.

She stretched to her full height and he was forced to admit she wasn’t small, exactly. Not compared to her colleagues, but at six and a half feet, Reinn still had nine inches on her and when he crossed his arms, he was like three of her wide. She was mighty, but he was mightier.

“Thank you for your suggestion.” She took a step back and gestured to the door. “We’ll see you at the reception.”

“We’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“We’ll meet you there.” She pasted a pleasant smile on her face. Okay, so she wasn’t quiet, either. His kitten had claws.

His kitten. Gods. He needed to have his head examined. “If you insist.” He knew he was scowling and he didn’t care. She’d need to get used to his moods if they were going to work together.

Two hours later, the scowl had returned in full force. He didn’t like being away from her, but as the delegation arrived at the longhouse across the public square from the inn, he realized he also didn’t like having his first look of her in her dress uniform in public.

Something primal tugged at his gut, and he shook it off. He’d been wrong about lust before, confusing it with something else. He’d be well served to ignore the attraction, but she made that a damned challenge.

She’d pulled her long dark hair back in a sleek ponytail, instead of the bun she’d had earlier, and where her flight suit had been boxy and utilitarian, her fitted dress uniform emphasized her willowy but strong figure. Black dress pants hugged trim, muscular thighs, and from the way the door guard was checking her out, her ass probably looked fantastic.

It took all of his restraint to not throw a fur around her. He didn’t hold himself back from stalking over to the door guard and shoving him against the wall, though. Aggression wasn’t unusual in their culture, although it was for him. “Forget whatever disgusting thought is in your head,” he growled at the young man before pushing his way outside.

It didn’t take long for his brother to find him. “Will you be joining us in the receiving line?”

“As a liaison officer, I thought I’d accompany my counterpart.”

“Ah.”

He narrowed his eyes at Rolf. “Don’t ah me.”

“Then don’t be so painfully obvious.” His brother grinned. “Love at first sight?”

Maybe third or fourth sight. “No.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s a FedNat officer.”

“So? They’re not the enemy.”

Rolf might be older, taller, and thicker, but Reinn could kick his ass. “That’s not what I mean. She’s not just a beautiful woman. She’s smart and capable.”

“And young and fertile…”

The awful feast hadn’t yet begun and Reinn wanted to explode. This wasn’t a good sign. “Hold your tongue, brother.”

Rolf chuckled and headed back inside. They were close—no one else could speak to Reinn like that. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He followed a minute later, taking his time approaching Ashleigh and her team. He tamped down his visceral reaction to the young officer and tried to just see her as her rank and uniform.

That lasted twenty seconds, right up until she offered him a welcoming smile when he landed at her side.

“The receiving line is only necessary for unit leaders,” she was telling her team. Reinn looked for Aldric, but his second was already heading over.

The younger man offered his arm to Navena, who laughed and took it. “Sure, why not, Viking Man.”

The two young soldiers followed behind, the foursome settling into an easy camaraderie. Why couldn’t he and Ashleigh have that instead of this prickly tension? He liked her, despite his initial misgivings. And even though he’d flirted inappropriately, growled at her and generally done his worst to represent himself as a professional officer, she still smiled at him.

A smile that made him want to back her up against a wall and taste her mouth.

Right. That was the problem.

“Shall we?” he asked tightly.

Her smile faltered for a minute, but then she blinked and a practiced mask settled into place. She was a born diplomat, clearly. “Of course.”

“I should warn you about my father,” Reinn said under his breath as they stepped into line behind her fellow officers. “He’s…crude.”

Ashleigh just glanced at him and didn’t say anything in response. Maybe she didn’t understand. Surely they’d had dossiers…Just how cleaned up would the Earthling information officers have presented his king?

“Reinn,” his father’s voice boomed around them. “Introduce me.”

“Lt. Ashleigh Tavistock, commander, FedNat MIFEC Cell 3.” Reinn took a deep breath and gestured with his hand. “King Ragnar Sorenson, my father, first grandson of the first traveler, Stefan Rasmussen. Proud Viking, through and through.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder. “My son, the scientist. You missed your calling, boy, you are a born politician.”

He ignored Ashleigh’s curious gaze. They just needed to get through this conversation, then she could ask all the questions she wanted.

“Now, young woman. Welcome to Midgard.” His father’s eyes glinted and his lips curved in a hard, dangerous line. “There’s much we could teach you about sexual pleasure.” He said it to offend. To test.

Ashleigh was smarter than either of them had estimated. She lifted one brow, an elegant challenge. “Oh?”

It wasn’t Reinn’s place to interrupt a conversation between his leader and an Earth military officer, but it took all of his will power to not interject and move her along the receiving line. A sexual harassment complaint from an Earthling wasn’t the way to start this visit.

“Your people couple quietly and in the dark. Alone.” His father raked his gaze down the officer’s body and Reinn thought about punching him in the face. His mother wouldn’t like that. Shame.

Ashleigh just smiled. “My people are your people, too, my lord. We share the same base human urges.” She winked. “We enjoy the same pleasures. Just because I prefer to take my mate alone doesn’t mean it’s quiet.”

Everyone in earshot froze for a moment, and the tips of her ears turned pink, but her face remained a smooth mask and after a beat his father burst out in raucous laughter. “Well played, Lieutenant. I envy that man.”

“Of course, my lord. He’s much younger and better looking than you.” Her voice was clear and light, and Reinn wondered why no one else picked up on the faint tremor. But then she smiled again and it was gone. “Perhaps I’ll tell you more about him later, over a glass of mead.”

This time no one tried to hide their laughter. Reinn doubted that anyone else could see that Lt. Tavistock was lying through her teeth. With a final wink to his father, she allowed Reinn to guide her down the receiving line. Next up was his brother. Rolf was still laughing, his long beard shaking almost as much as his big barrel chest. “Well played, Lieutenant,” he rumbled. “Reinn treating you well?”

“So far,” Ashleigh said, glancing in his direction but holding her gaze purposefully short of making eye contact.

“We’ll have to stay in touch then. So you can let me know when he starts behaving badly.”

“You don’t think I can handle him?”

“I’m sure you can. I’d just like to watch.”

Harsh possessiveness rose like molten steel inside Reinn. “There won’t be any watching.” He ground out the words, painfully aware that while they’d go over Ashleigh’s head, his brother would correctly parse his meaning.

“That so?”

He was acting like Ashleigh could be his next betrothed, mere hours after meeting her. Her mission almost certainly precluded that. You’re being unprofessional, he chastised himself. But his brother’s gaze didn’t carry any judgement, just a touch of concern. For him? Her? Both of them?

“Come along,” Reinn said gruffly. He was ready to eat and drink and stop thinking for an hour.

The last few remaining formal introductions went smoothly, then he escorted her to the table where the rest of her team sat with Aldric. His second acknowledged their arrival with a nod and a wink as he finished singing a song for the others.

Reinn glanced at Ashleigh as the ribald lyrics sank in, but just as before, she wore the mask well. And when Aldric finished, she was the first to murmur a throaty approval.

At a quiet break mid-feast, she leaned in close and thanked him for letting her handle his father on her own.

“You’re not so quiet after all, Lieutenant Tavistock.” His lips curved in pride. “I thought for a minute I’d need to intervene.”

“No,” she shook her head solemnly. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Perhaps we need some sort of code word, just in case.”

“You expect for me to be challenged like that often?”

Not by anyone who’d witnessed her deftly take on the king. “Perhaps I’m more concerned about your poor victims.”

She beamed at that, and he threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

Good lord, she’d thought the man was attractive when glowering and serious. Happy and laughing, he was irresistible. He reached for his goblet and took a deep, long drink, and Ashleigh took the opportunity to eat him up with her eyes.

Unlike many of his brethren, his hair wasn’t that long. He tied part of it back behind his head, but what was loose didn’t reach his shoulders. The dark wavy pieces looked soft and touchable, and she had to twist her fingers together to keep from reaching out and looping an errant strand back behind his ear.

His face was an endless playground of interesting lines and planes. Carved cheekbones dropped into curving laugh lines which led to a hard, masculine jaw dusted with a light beard that framed his perfect mouth just so…

Yeah. She needed to be re-assigned. This was a disaster waiting to happen. The man had practically suggested she strip naked and wash in front of him. And if he’d offered to help scrub her back, she’d probably have gone for it. Her attraction to him was off-the-charts and seriously problematic.

Music had been playing since they entered the longhouse, a pulsing, electric beat that got under her skin, and when the lights dimmed further and a woman’s voice joined the instrumental swell, the hairs on the back of Ashleigh’s neck stood up. The voice was hauntingly beautiful. She craned her neck, looking for the singer, and almost fell out of her chair when she caught sight of the performer. Perched naked on a pile of furs at the front of the dais, the woman’s voluptuous beauty matched her voice. Golden hair tumbled over her swollen breasts and obviously pregnant belly. Two Debedian trolls sat at her feet, as if ready to deliver her every wish. They were the first non-humans Ashleigh had seen on Midgard and she turned to ask Reinn a question about that, but stopped herself because he looked pissed.

He caught her look and let out a heavy sigh. “That is my ex-wife.”

“Oh.” She looked at the head table where her CO and the King were both observing the singer quite…closely. They were staring. Blatantly. She rolled her eyes. “Would that have been your father’s doing, inviting her to perform?”

“Ylsa would have offered, knowing he’d say yes. My father has been infatuated with her since she was a teenager.”

Ashleigh’s head snapped against the tall padded chair back. She bit her tongue, but she was too close to Reinn for him not to see the truth in her eyes. And she didn’t want to hide her reaction from him.

“Right?” He laughed without humour.

“Are you obligated to be here?” She glanced at the side door. “Would you like to go for a walk? I didn’t see much of the sculpture garden in the square before we came inside.”

He looked over her shoulder. She had no desire to turn around and see what was going on. None of it could be more interesting than the play of emotions on his face. “Your commanding officer…?”

“It’s fine.” She stood and announced they were stepping outside for a few minutes. Aldric gave them a lazy nod. Navena and the goons were entranced by the entertainment and barely acknowledged their departure.

The night air cooled her heated cheeks and she was glad for a moment of quiet. One of Midgard’s two moons shone bright overhead. The other would rise shortly, casting even more reflection down on the surprisingly still city.

Reinn placed a hand in the small of her back and guided her to the plaque at the start of the maze-like statue garden. For a large man in heavy boots, he stepped lightly, matching her own quiet footfall. “This is the—”

“Rasmussen garden,” she murmured, interrupting him softly. “I know. I’ve visited the matching one in Copenhagen.”

“Really?” He shot her a surprised glance.

“Of course. I didn’t have much time to prepare for this mission, but I went for the weekend before departure. I’d also been as a child, of course. Junior school graduation trip to the Midgard Museum.”

He snorted. “Gods. We’re even a tourist trap on Earth.”

She frowned. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled his lips into a thin, silent line.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m being rude.” Except it didn’t sound like he was sorry, or that he believed he was out of line. It felt like a dismissal, and rather unfair when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

“It’s no more of a tourist trap than the Space Exploration Center at Cape Canaveral.”

“My point exactly.”

“You’ve never been to Earth!” She shook her head. It was her turn to bite her tongue. The peaceful garden no longer held immediate appeal, not with her current company and his archaic, jaded opinions. She turned on her heel and headed back to the longhouse.

She could feel him behind her. Well, it was a free country, at least for him. The son of the King could probably stalk her for real without any recrimination. Simply walking back to a state dinner was no crime.

“Ashleigh.” She froze mid-step. It was the first time he’d used her first name, and the sound of it on his tongue flooded her body with heat. “I’m a wary man. I like the life we have here, and I’m loath to see that change.”

3

She turned slowly, hands spread. She wasn’t the enemy here. “You need medical equipment for your beloved settlements. Better education and travel opportunities for your youth. A connection to your past.”

“This is our connection to our past. All the best parts of our culture were outlawed—”

“You know that’s ancient history.”

“So I can carry this in Florida now?” He brandished a dagger, pulling it silently from the folds of fabric at his hip.

“Well, no, but—”

“How many independent farms remain in what used to be Denmark?”

“None, but—”

“The nastiness might be ancient history, but the iron fist is still clamped down hard.”

“I’m here to show you we want to understand. Support, even. Whatever you need to be comfortable with rebuilding our connection, I want to hear it.”

“So you can report it up the chain only to have your president do whatever he wants?”

She lifted her hands in the air. “That’s a bigger question than I could answer tonight. I don’t know. But we have a few months here. We’ll figure it out.”

He stepped closer. “Will you storm off again if I tell you how naive that sounds?”

She let herself smile. It was that or stomp and yell. “Yes, probably.”

“Don’t,” he rumbled, closing the gap between them. Her palms rested flat against his chest and she reflexively fisted her hands on the leather straps of his tunic.

“Don’t what?” she whispered, tipping her head back to look him in the eye. Her pulse sped up at the hungry look she found there.

“Run away from me.”

“I wasn’t running so much as setting boundaries.”

“And what boundaries might those be?” he murmured, dipping his head closer to hers. The second moon was on the rise, just over his shoulder, she lazily noticed.

“I’m really not sure.” Maybe the moonlight was like the water, she thought. She certainly felt drugged, like she was in an altered—and highly sexual—state. “Something about you can’t talk to me like that and sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.”

“Fortune favours the bold.” His mouth hovered right above hers but he didn’t press in closer.

“Not exactly true in diplomacy,” she drawled, her words slow and heavy.

“I wasn’t talking about politics.” His mouth covered hers, his beard tickling her cheeks and chin as his lips parted, willing hers to do the same, and because of the damn moonlight she did just that.

Kissing a Viking was nothing like kissing anyone else. His kiss, while seemingly innocent, seemed to reach deep inside her and licked flames at her most private parts. She opened for him, and the veil of innocence fell away. This kiss was anything but chaste. His tongue teased at hers, alternatingly firm and yielding, stoking her fires and promising he knew how to thoroughly make love.

She stroked her hands up his chest to his strong, corded neck. She eagerly ran her fingertips over his skin, hot and tight under her touch. But even as his flesh fed her desire, a warning brewed in the back of her mind. His hand slipping under her uniform jacket was the wake-up call she needed.

“No,” she whispered, then repeated the refusal a bit louder.

His palm stilled against her bare waist, and even as she pulled away, her insides tugged for him to stroke higher. And lower. Everywhere.

“We can’t,” she said, heavy with regret. “This is unprofessional.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly. When she gave him a doubting look, he laughed. “Not now, but earlier. I know it’s not…wise, to indulge ourselves like that.”

“You thought about kissing me earlier?”

“You didn’t?”

“Fair enough.” She licked her lips. “But we can’t do it again.”

“Not tonight, anyway.”

“Not ever.”

He dropped his gaze to her mouth then slowly dragged it back up to her eyes. “I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep.”

They were standing just a few feet from the side entrance to the longhouse. Inside, the music shifted to a more twisting, sensual sound.

“Ylsa’s done,” Reinn muttered. Ashleigh moved to the doorway and watched as the trolls ambled away from the dais, following the swaying, naked back of Reinn’s ex-wife. She disliked the woman right away, which was entirely unfair.

Like a palpable wave, the energy in the room shifted. All the Midgardians knew what was coming and they couldn’t wait.

“We should go back to the garden,” Reinn murmured behind her.

“Why? What’s coming next?” She glanced back at him, her breath catching in her throat at the awareness of how close he was. He shifted again, and she could feel his heat against her back.

“A dance, of sorts.” He wasn’t touching her, exactly, but his lips were right behind her ear, and his narration of what was unfolding in front of her felt intimate and illicit. “There will be coupling.”

“We’ve read about this,” she said, her breath rising and falling rapidly in her chest. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t get lost in the spectacle of sex, but that was before Reinn wrapped himself around her as she watched.

“It’s just a show. This isn’t who we are.”

“You don’t want me to watch this, do you?” She glanced back at him again.

“No.” His blunt answer didn’t surprise her.

“You don’t approve?”

“Of dancing trolls and sex for shock value? Do you?”

“It’s entertainment. Maybe not my thing, but I don’t think you like any of this. The feast. The pageantry.”

He looked at her. “No, I suppose I don’t. It’s one thing if it’s for the court. Fantasy and fun. But as a tourism industry just to boost our economy? We came here to live authentically, Ashleigh.”

She had no counter to that. But he seemed alone in his position and that made her want to stand by his side. That doesn’t sound loyal to the FedNat, Lt. Tavistock. But her gut churned with disquiet at the thought of being a part of something that bothered this man.

“This doesn’t matter to us, you know. We don’t want to promote Midgard as a sex vacation or something like that. Your planet is beautiful.” She may not have seen much of it yet, but she knew outside the city limits lay farms and smaller settlements. Carefully regulated industry allowed within the city and elsewhere on the planet augmented the food produced on the Artisan Flats, but the population overwhelmingly supported their protection.

“It is. And I will show you all of it.” Rough pride filled his voice. “But tonight…I’ll swallow my distaste. You might as well understand all of who we are.”

“We don’t need to—”

“No,” he said quietly, his thumb stroking her cheek as he gently turned her face back to the women spinning slowly in a circle in front of his father. “I think I might like to watch you watch.”

Heat infused her core as he settled her back against his front. Hard leather, cold metal, and right in the middle of her back, the unmistakable thickening of a very impressive erection. She pressed her legs together. From kissing to not kissing to voyeurism in no time flat. She could handle this.

She had to—prying herself away from his warm embrace certainly wasn’t going to happen.

* * *

So much for backing off.

But he didn’t care. As the dancers twirled, removing first the scarves wound around their upper bodies, then their gauzy skirts, Ashleigh’s breathing increased and her skin warmed. He stroked her cheek, not daring to press his hand to her belly again, although the need to claim her was overwhelming.

He knew what was coming next. The first dancer picked up a glass bottle of tarfutti oil and spun the next woman into her arms. Breasts to back, hip to hip, she drizzled her partner’s torso with a thin stream of oil and held her as a third woman joined them. Hands flashed, shiny in the dim lighting, cupping breasts and curving around bottoms. Another woman joined the writhing show, and then from the shadows came the men.

In his arms, Ashleigh tightened up. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “No one can see us.” He slid his fingertips to her neck, and her moan was so quiet he could only feel it vibrating in her throat. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

“You don’t…”

“I enjoy you. Watching you get turned on makes me crazy.”

“I’m not—”

“I can smell you,” he interjected quietly as he traced her collarbone at the top of her uniform. He ignored her little gasp. “Your scent is captivating. I’m jealous that I’m not the cause of it.”

“You are,” she whispered, and that undid him. He ground his cock into her back, frustrated that he couldn’t drag her back to the inn and slide them both into the tub. He’d make her come with his hands and his mouth first, then fold her over edge and slide into her from behind. “No, Reinn, we can’t…”

“I know,” he muttered into her hair. “But I want to.”

“I do, too,” she gasped, and he slid his hand up to cup her face, turning her around so he could take her mouth. He kept it brief, a painfully short taste of her lips that only made the ache in his chest pulse harder.

“Go back to the table,” he said, gripping her hips firmly and moving them apart. “Join the others. I’ll be there soon.”

“We need to talk about this,” she whispered. But there would be no talking while her lips were swollen and wet from his kiss.

He shook his head. “Tomorrow or the next day. Tonight has gotten away from us.”

She stared at his mouth and nodded, a jerky acknowledgement that they both needed some space to think clearly. But the masquerade of not wanting each other wouldn’t last, they’d just proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Reinn would give Ashleigh and her team a few days to get settled, and there were meetings planned, but then they were heading north. He wanted to show her the real Midgard, not the carefully constructed facade his father was intent on presenting. And when exactly did she become Ashleigh? One day with her and he’d lost all sense of decorum and boundaries. Maybe when your tongue was down her throat, your cock wedged hard against her. He shook his head. It wasn’t just about getting her alone. He wanted to show Cell 3 and Lieutenant Tavistock another side of modern Viking life.

Tonight they’d get the flash. Soon enough they’d see the reality. And something told him that his Earth counterpart would understand the quiet wonder of the Flats. And if he got to spend some one-on-one time exploring her wonders…that would be a nice bonus.

Not here in the city. Not in front of court. Reinn bristled at the thought of sharing Ashleigh with anyone. No. Not here.

But up north, under the stars…if she’d have him, Reinn would show her all the Viking hospitality he could muster.

4

Nine days had passed since the welcome reception. Nine nights of soaking in her oversized bathtub, touching herself to the memory of Reinn’s hands on her neck, his mouth on her ear, telling her how much she turned him on.

Through meetings and polite group tours, he managed not to touch her, but his gaze was always there. Watching and promising that good things would come.

She ought to be annoyed that he’d said they’d talk and then avoided her, but the distance didn’t feel cold. He was protecting her, and the steady hum of anticipation for what would happen when they truly had some privacy was delicious.

At the end of the morning resources discussion, which had gone well, the senior Midgardian diplomat stood and addressed the room. “It’s been proposed that we split into four groups for the travel outside of the capital.  This will allow greater immersion in one community, but it will mean that some of you don’t travel to the southern hemisphere until much later in your visit.”

Ashleigh didn’t turn to look at Reinn. She knew this was his idea. He was a trusted advisor, and he’d used his position to get them separated from the rest of the delegation. She wasn’t going to risk that by lighting off the fireworks that would surely happen if she glanced his way. Navena had already pointed out how she acted like a schoolgirl with a crush around him. She could trust her friend, but no one else.

Captain Reynolds handed out the assignments. Cells 1 and 2 would head south. They crowed. Dragons were an awesome assignment. Cell 4 would head east, to the Simple Lifers, and find out how their other cousins liked living on Midgard and what their concerns were. A good assignment for Commander Derek Jacoby, although his team looked less than impressed at the idea of heading away from technology and the joyousness of the Viking settlements.

Ashleigh’s team was heading to the Artisan Flats, not far from Ny København. Less travel time, more private time. And a chance to see Reinn’s favourite part of his world.

“This afternoon, you’ll work with your counterparts to plan itineraries, and transport will be arranged. Those going further afield will leave tonight by air. Cell 3, you’ll travel by rail and leave in the morning.”

As they filed out, heading to the longhouse for lunch, Derek stopped her. “Lt. Tavistock, would you be able to join us for part of the afternoon? You spent a lot of time on Simple Lifer background before we got here.”

She could feel Reinn watching her, as always. “Yes, of course. Sgt. Johnson can handle our planning session.” She glanced over her shoulder, ostensibly to confirm that with Navena, but Reinn was right there. Not quite glowering, but not happy, either. It didn’t take long for him to clarify his position. The comms device on her arm beeped as she tucked into her plate of roast meat and herbed vegetables with a sweet and tangy fruit jelly.

Would you rather have gone to the east?

She blinked at the unexpected note from Reinn. They’d only tested their comms connection once, on the third day of talks, when everyone else did. She’d thought about messaging him many times, particularly late at night as she tossed back and forth in the Viking-sized bed that was missing a certain Viking. But she knew that doing so would put another crack in the facade of their collegial relationship.

And the lightning zap to her chest that happened at the sight of his name on her arm confirmed that. She lifted her finger and hovered it over the keypad for a minute before answering. No.

I will miss you this afternoon.

Wow. She stared at her arm, heart pounding, not trusting herself to look up. Her cheeks must be flaming. Noted.

You’re beautiful when you’re flustered.

Stop bothering me, she typed as she smiled.

I’ve had to be good for nine long days, Ashleigh. She could hear her name as if he’d whispered it in her ear.

Hasn’t been easy for me, either. Was this the stupidest thing ever? Who might be monitoring this channel? She was reminded of what Navena had said. Not forbidden. Just discouraged. She ignored the warning bells going off in her head and focused instead on the lovely butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

Eat your lunch.

Don’t be bossy.

You’ll need your strength over the next week.

Her fork clattered off her plate as she bumped it in surprise. She pressed the button to darken the screen. From somewhere else in the hall, he was watching her. She didn’t need to respond.

The afternoon sessions flew by. She spent half of it with Derek’s group, then moved over to where Reinn and Navena were planning quite a robust trip north. By the time dinner rolled around, she was wiped. Instead of joining the group at the longhouse, she begged off. Navena shooed her away, promising to send a cold plate over soon enough.

She planned on having a bath, but she lay down on the bed first and the next thing she knew her arm was beeping. Expecting it to be Navena, she slapped the answer button. “What’s up, buttercup?”

A long pause filled the air before Reinn spoke, low and rough. “It doesn’t sound like you are, despite the attempt at a chipper greeting.”

“Oh. I fell asleep.”

“I can hear that. Go to your door. I’ve left you a present.” He chuckled. “And by the way, you didn’t eat your dinner. Bad girl.”

She sat up like a bolt, nipples at attention. “Where are you?”

“Sadly, no longer outside your door.”

“Come back.” Everyone else would have left. It would be fine.

He groaned. “I can’t, I have a meeting with my father. Besides, if I came to your room…We wouldn’t be quiet.”

Her nipples agreed. “Soon?”

“Tomorrow, min elskede.”

With a beep he was gone, and she was left with a swirl of unexpected emotion. Desire she’d reconciled herself to, even though it was completely out of character. She wanted Reinn and had come to terms with that.

But this longing, this ache inside her to have him close at all times…it was so unexpected, so raw, and so completely unworkable that she didn’t know what to do.

And now he’d come and gone while she slept, and left something for her.

She swallowed hard and slowly climbed off the bed. She opened the heavy wooden door, still amused at the archaic hinges and doorknob. So impractical to have the door take up space swinging into the chamber. The obvious risk of injury aside, surely the wood and metal was more expensive than a pre-fab slider.

Next to a tray of food was a wooden box. She carefully balanced the box on the tray and carried both inside the room and set them on the bed. The dinner was pickles, cold meat and a tangy salad of sorts. She nibbled on a few bites while she stared at the box, torn in equal measure between excitement and fear at what she might find inside. What it might mean.

Lifting the lid, she caught her breath at the sight of a dark amber glass bottle. She pulled out the cork stopper and hesitantly brought her nose close enough to catch a hint of the delicate scented oil inside. Even though she had a good idea what it was, she sent Reinn a quick message.

What is it?

The same oil the dancers used at the welcome reception. His response was swift and without any hint of shame. Images flooded her mind. A woman twirling in the center of the longhouse, losing an item of clothing with each rotation until her breasts were bare. As had happened that night, desired pulsed through Ashleigh’s core before she could suppress her reaction. She uncoupled the comms device from her uniform and docked it to her tablet, then silently shed her tunic. She was alone. It didn’t matter that her nipples were sharp enough to cut glass and her sex was wet and swollen. No one would know that she wanted to—

I want you to drizzle it on yourself like they did.

Oh, hell. She let out a moan, then yelped at the sudden noise in her otherwise quiet chamber. So it wasn’t entirely her own little secret what she’d do with it.

I take your silence as an indication that your hands are busy.

She corked the bottle, then tossed it gently into the middle of the bed. She shimmied out of her uniform pants and followed the bottle, tablet in hand. Not at all, I was just scanning your gift for toxins.

The cursor flashed on the screen, and Ashleigh imagined Reinn laughing before responding. Find any threats?

The results were inconclusive. She stared at the bottle, then down at her standard issue undergarments. The stretchy tank top and shorts felt heavy for the first time ever. She wore them 24/7, except for bathing, and for the first time ever, she wanted them gone. Had a burning desire to roll around naked on her bed, touching herself.

Tomorrow night, I will show you how I use it to stroke myself. Hunger struck her fast and swift, and not for the food she’d been picking at. She wanted to see him do that, touch himself. Her sex swelled, warm and wet, as she tried to visualize what he’d look like naked. Dark hair, thicker from his waist down. A large penis, to match the rest of him, big and bold and strong. Would it jut straight out? Curve up or down or to the side? And when he wrapped his giant fist around it, what would he do? Would he watch himself, or her? Tip his head back and close his eyes, imagining a fantasy?

I will like that, she responded. I think.

Have you never watched a man pleasure himself?

No.

Gods. I have no words to tell you how much that pleases me. Meeting now, more later.

Shaken and halfway to a climax she didn’t see coming, Ashleigh stripped off her clothes and stretched out like a cat in heat on the bed. She took herself the rest of the way there, imagining Reinn’s fingers were working the oil into her breasts and down her torso, between her legs and into her…

She tried to imagine his vocabulary. Would he say pussy? Cunt? Something more poetic? As she spread her legs wide, she pictured him at the foot of the bed, watching her. She wouldn’t be the first woman spread out like a feast for him. She ignored the angry scratch of jealousy. This couldn’t be anything other than a fling. There’d been women in his past, and there’d be more in his future. But right now, he seemed to only have eyes for her and that would have to be good enough.

Ashleigh, she imagined him saying, closer now, like he was beside her. That serious tone that shook her to her very core. The filthy, unexpected words that inevitably would follow.

Dr. Reinn Ragnarson, as she’d learned he had a right to be called, was proving to be an interesting combination of man and mind. An agricultural scientist who spent most of the year outside the city, living on the Flats. More straight-laced than his compatriots, but still so much dirtier than Ashleigh could ever imagine. Dirty for her.

Again the jealousy flashed, but this time a new kernel was at its core. That maybe he wasn’t always like this, but that she awakened a beast inside him. She didn’t want to share that passion with anyone else, present or future.

Reinn was hers and she didn’t want to let him go.

Her thighs clenched tight around her hand as that single, potent realization triggered an orgasm that left her spinning, searching for solid ground.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

And yet even if her panic, she couldn’t pledge to herself that she’d give him up.

* * *

Reinn told himself to stay away. The risk of getting caught together before they’d had a chance to discuss how they would take their relationship public—because he wasn’t going to be able to hide how he felt about her much longer.

So it would be smart to wait until they arrived in Aulbjerg. But those text messages had heated his blood to the boiling point, and when his father broke out the akvavit, he thought he was sure to crawl into bed with a raging hard-on and Ashleigh’s text messages—good, but not exactly what he wanted.

No, what he wanted was his prim and proper Earth officer on her knees, lips wrapped around his cock. He wanted her riding his face backwards, watching as he fisted himself. He wanted to pin her down on that ridiculous big bed of hers and take her hard and slow from behind, whispering dirty words in her ear the whole time.

When his father’s right-hand man, Sigard Luftson, thumped him on the arm, jerking his attention back to the conversation, Reinn realized he had no clue what they were talking about.

“Boy, you need to take more of an interest…” his father said, laughing.

“You take enough interest in Ny København for the both of us, father,” Reinn reminded him carefully.

“And it’s paid off! We’re hosting those Earthlings in a manner they’re accustomed to, are we not? They’ll be impressed.”

“Not when they head to the settlements and see how many of us are still without reliable energy sources. How far people need to travel for medical care.”

His father lifted his hand dismissively. To his right, Rolf tipped his glass back and did his best to stay out of the conversation. Reinn knew his brother didn’t feel the same way, but there was no point in the both of them being seen as idiots, tilting at windmills. Even if his tilting was grounded in reality and backed up with study after study. It was the only reason he was going along with this liaison mission—he didn’t have enough allies on Midgard. Maybe in all of the wheeling and dealing, he could negotiate a better deal for his kindred spirits on the Flats.

Somewhere in the last two hundred years, they’d lost their sense of community and it saddened him greatly.

“Reinn, I wanted to show you the funding mock-up for the greenhouse subsidy.” Sigard nodded to the anteroom where he kept his office. The older man was capable and quiet—a true prince among men, and given Reinn’s privilege, that was saying something. Sigard gave him an appraising look when they reached his desk. “What has you so distracted?”

“This trip.” At least he could answer honestly. “We’re on the cusp of big changes. I want them to benefit everyone, not just—”

“If you want to lead, then you need to get your head in the game.”

He jerked his head back and glared at Sigard. “I don’t.”

“You care more than your brother does.”

“It’s his birthright.” And I don’t want it.

“He wouldn’t be the first to step aside.”

“He wants it, end of story. And this is not a conversation to have here, or anywhere.” Reinn glanced back over his shoulder. “I will serve him as you have served my father.”

“Then you need to stop dreaming.”

Reinn laughed. “Will it reassure you that I wasn’t thinking about work?”

“Ahhh, a woman?” Sigard crossed his arms over his big, barrel chest. “I’d given up hope, my boy.” And that was the difference between Sigard and his father. They both struggled to fully see him as a man, but at least Sigard put my before boy.

“It’s complicated.”

“The young liaison officer.” Sigard rolled his eyes at Reinn’s shocked expression and shrugged. “She’s beautiful, I don’t blame you.”

Reinn gritted his teeth. “It’s not like that.” Fear slithered down his back, feeling a lot like a cold sweat at the thought that he’d been so obvious in his affection for Ashleigh. And now they’d opened the floodgates.

“Of course it is. Get it out of your system.”

“No.” He leaned forward and waited until Sigard stopped chuckling and focused on his face. “I will claim her in good time.”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can.” He straightened, enjoying the extra breadth and width he had over the other man. “Not a word to my father.”

“He already knows about what happened at the welcome reception. There was security footage.”

Reinn closed his eyes and cursed himself for being stupid. “Does he care?”

“No, and he won’t as long as he thinks you’re just—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he growled. He didn’t want anyone thinking of Ashleigh like that, and definitely not his father and Sigard.

He turned and headed back into his father’s common room, pausing only at the door to strap on his weapons. Behind him, Sigard made apologies and offered to pour another round of akvavit. Reinn didn’t look back.

Eight minutes later, he arrived on the other side of the City Core and prowled silently into Ashleigh’s inn. His ID chip let him in the side entrance, but instead of swiping, he waited for a maidservant to come out. She gave him a polite but disinterested smile and held the door for him. Just to be on the safe side, he slid his metal wrist cuff over his chip as he passed through the entrance. It might not shield his presence there, but it couldn’t hurt to think a little. Even if it was probably too late.

He paused in front of her door. He hadn’t thought this through. They were heading north tomorrow, where they’d have space and privacy. But he’d wanted to hold her before he knew his secret was out of the bag. Now he needed to, in case it was his only chance.

He knocked softly, three light taps that thundered around him.

Enough time passed before she swung the door open that he worried she was asleep, but one look at her pleasantly surprised—and flushed—face told him that wasn’t exactly the case.

She blushed as he smiled at her, slow and knowingly. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t stay away.” Partial honesty. He’d get to the rest in a bit.

Desire and concern warred on her face. He waited on the threshold. It would have to be her choice to invite him in.  “Anyone know—”

“I don’t think so. I snuck in.” It was all he could promise.

She sighed and stepped back. Not quite an enthusiastic welcome, but then she mumbled something under her breath that more than gave him hope.

“Pardon?”

“I said, you might as well come in, I was imagining you were here with me anyway.” She glanced back at him, her gaze obscured by a heavy flutter of lashes, but the curve of her smile gave her away.

His rapidly stiffening cock led the way into the room and he nudged the door shut behind him as he snagged her by the waist and pulled her close. No sooner had the latch clicked than he had her pressed against the heavy wood, his hands in her hair and his lips on hers. She tasted even better than he remembered, like warm spices and melted sugar. “Tell me more,” he muttered, licking his way down her neck. She was always so buttoned up, seeing her like this in a robe and—Gods—nothing else, he discovered as his hand slipped between the silky garment…it was too tempting for words.

He’d spent almost two weeks subtly analyzing the curves under her uniform. He knew exactly where the gentle weight of her breast began, and with unerring precision slid his hand up her side, nearly undone at the softness of her skin. He stopped just shy of where they both wanted his hand.

“Please,” she panted, arching against him.

“We should talk,” he muttered unconvincingly.

“About what?”

He didn’t want to tell her. He almost didn’t. But he wanted this woman to be more than a hard fuck against the door. And if he lied to her now, that’s all she’d ever give him.

“My father knows of my affection for you. Our secret is no longer a secret.”

5

“What do you mean?” Ashleigh scrambled to close her robe between them. Confusion flooded over her and she knew she needed some distance from Reinn for whatever he was about to say next, even if both her body and heart protested the rude interruption to the light speed seduction that had been about to happen.

He gave her enough space between their bodies to cover up, but kept her bracketed against the door with his strong arms and one long, thick thigh. Her hip brushed the inside of his leg as she adjusted herself and she wanted to lean into him. Savor his strength and trust that he had this under control.

But she hardly knew him. And if other people knew they’d been flirting, it wasn’t within his control any longer. So flirting would be where they’d have to draw the line, even if that felt like a strangely large sacrifice. Because you know him better than you think you do. On another level. She shook away the strange thought.

“Where did you go just now in your head?” He glowered down at her and she fought back her first instinct to reach up and smooth the frown lines away with her fingertips, then touch his lips and hope that he’d nip at her skin. Instead, she offered a frown of her own and placed her palms flat on his chest.

“Move,” she said quietly, her gaze never wavering from his face.

“You’re worried.” He stated it like the fact that it was. With a quick nod, he shoved off the door and paced away.

“No.” She dragged out the word, buying herself a few seconds to sort out what it was that she was feeling. “Tell me what you mean. Who exactly knows what and what exactly is not a secret?”

“There is security footage of us from the welcome reception.” He ground out the words like he wanted them off his tongue and out of his mind. Too bad that wasn’t how life worked. She closed her eyes and did a mental replay of her first night on Midgard. A kiss, then a long embrace as they watched the performance. A show which surely would demonstrate that what they had done was boring, practically nothing. Lies, she chided herself. Not nothing at all.

But it could be rendered as such, officially. She locked the ache away. “A momentary lapse in judgement on my part, but hopefully when we don’t do anything else, the watchers will tire of paying us any attention and move on to a more exciting drama.”

“You can just wipe our connection away like that?” He glared at her, incredulous disbelief rolling off of him in waves.

“I’m disappointed,” she admitted after a beat. “This would have been fun.”

He spun around, glower still firmly in place. He raked a look down her body and back up again. “Fun?” His dark brows hooded his gaze, but the intensity didn’t take a hit at all.

She stood her ground, even as it felt unsteady. “Sure. I don’t usually do this type of thing, but you seem like a nice guy and—”

“A nice guy?” He stalked toward her, not stopping until they were pressed hip-to-hip and nose-to-nose. “I try to be kind. And from time to time, I suppose I’m fun. But what I feel for you is neither light nor frivolous, and I won’t be tossed aside so easily.”

Nothing cloaked the hot, hungry way he looked at her now. She dropped her gaze from his eyes to his mouth, but that didn’t make it easier. “Then you’ve gotten ahead of me. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the apology and she pressed her lips together, afraid to say anything else.

“I didn’t tell you this so you could shut down, Ashleigh.” He said her name like he knew her soul and he was pissed that she didn’t. Well, screw him. It was her damn soul, and if she wanted to lock it down tight that was her prerogative.

“Too late. I’m not interested in drama. I lost my head a little, but this was a good wake-up call.”

With the slightest of growls, he dipped his head and nudged her hair with his nose, not disguising his deep inhale nearly as well. “Oh woman, what am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, standing stock still. “That’s the point.”

“No,” he whispered right back, but his words weren’t shaky in the least. Just intimate. Rough and commanding. “That doesn’t work for me, because you just told me you lost your head over me. And I know I’m gone for you. So one way or another, we’re going to find a way to work this out.”

“What do you mean, you’re gone for me?” She felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. Ten days ago she’d never have imagined falling in lust like this. And now Reinn was looking at her like…Jeez, she didn’t even want to name it. Instead, she pushed back. Hard, using language she knew was too crude and way over the line. “Is it because I’m different than your ex-wife? I’m a convenient distraction?”

He tensed around her. “Don’t.”

“Do you just want me to be an agreeable wench you can rut with?” Even as she said it, her nipples tightened, betraying how much she wanted him—even if it wasn’t smart. Even if that’s all he wanted her for, a quick fuck to erase his pain.

But Reinn wouldn’t let her think that, not even for a minute. “You’re not made for rutting. I don’t think you think that, either, but let me be clear—I don’t want a quick fuck with you.”

“Wow, jeez, you really know how to put a girl in her place. The good news for you, buster, is that I’m not disappointed to not be the object of your…rutting intentions.” She stormed past him, but didn’t get far because he snagged her wrist, carefully manacling her with his thumb and forefinger. Like a magic switch, her body responded, her nipples stiff and her sex flooded at the barest of restraints.

“You are the object of intentions. But not just rutting.” He curled in behind her, cradling her in his arms. “Sparing. Mating. Breeding. Laughing. Sleeping. And yes, rutting, but we can’t fuck without knowing where we stand. Not now that it’s no longer a secret.”

Something told her he’d ordered those verbs like that to bury the scary ones in the middle. “You want to breed me?”

He chuckled into her hair. “With you, min elskede. In good time. That is the point of fucking, after all.”

God, she couldn’t breath. The thought of Reinn surging into her, over her, intent on conceiving a child…it didn’t scare her as much as it should. And that was terrifying. Her big, medieval Viking wanted her for more than a roll in the furs. It was impossible. Insane. And entirely too attractive for her liking.

“No,” she said, more confidently than she felt inside. “Really, no. If I’ve led you on, I apologize. But none of that can happen.”

“You’ve done nothing of the sort.” He slid his hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. “We’ll move on then, from this.” He traced his fingers over her collarbone, and she tipped her head back, letting him explore the exposed flesh there. “Bury this attraction between us.” He was teasing her. He wasn’t moving on. He was winding his magic again, making her forget she was an officer with a duty.

“We could just…for one night…” she whispered, silently willing him to slide her robe off and touch her everywhere.

“No. If I claim you, I’m never letting you go.”

“You’ll need to. I’m here for a few months and then I’ll be returning to Earth. A year from now I’ll be on the other side of the galaxy.” Her words sliced through her own heart, and without looking up at him, she knew he felt the same.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair and kissed her temple. “And if I ask you to stay?”

“It’s not my choice to make. There are policies and procedures. A lot of money has been spent to train me for this mission. I’m an investment. They won’t just let me go.”

“But if it was your choice?”

“I’d need more time.” Her answer shocked herself. What? “I mean…” Except that is what she meant. Maybe, in time, if she were free…she’d stay. It was a beautiful pipe dream, but maybe that’s why she could allow herself to revel in it. “But it’s not my choice to make,” she repeated regretfully.

He tightened his arms around her waist for a moment, then effortlessly lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. “Do you sleep in your robe?” he asked as he settled her down in the centre.

She slowly shook her head.

He curved his lips into an unexpectedly wolfish smile. “Then let me help tuck you in.”

Ashleigh knew from their few encounters that Reinn had a lusty appreciation for her. This look in his eye was something new and different. A challenge of sorts and she couldn’t back down. She wouldn’t be swayed by pleasure, no matter how tempting. But he expected her to say no, to maintain that wall he insisted was hiding a part of herself. She swallowed hard. She had nothing to hide. Yes, she wanted him. But there were larger concerns at play and he’d come to understand that she was right. She kicked the covers down below her feet and spread her arms wide. “Please.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes hot and locked on hers, and he unlaced his boots. With each heavy thud, her heartbeat raced a little faster. His tunic was fastened with a few leather buckles and soon that too hit the floor. He crawled onto the bed, still wearing a thin undershirt stretched tight across his chest and around the tops of his impressive biceps. His forearms were dusted in a deliciously light layer of dark hair, and at his waist a narrow strip of skin appeared between his shirt and his similarly snug trousers. He was fully dressed and she was drooling.

It didn’t matter. She could do this and not feel anything—other than pleasure, of course.

Reinn kneed his way between her legs, hovering over her long enough for her to see the desire in his eyes before he covered her mouth with his. Another kiss, another side to this man that made her want oh so much more. This kiss was hard and punishing, which she totally deserved. This push-me, pull-me routine couldn’t go on. But even as he bruised her lips and tangled with her tongue, his hand gently curved along her jaw and he held the rest of his body up and off of hers.

It should have felt like goodbye. It didn’t.

She’d pushed him away and lashed out with cruel words, and he’d crawled into her bed as if to say, your heart is next.

“Stop thinking so damn much,” he muttered against her lips as he pulled away, then chased her lips for one more searing kiss before rearing up on his knees. He stroked her bare legs with his hands, shoving her robe high on her thighs. “Just for tonight. Just feel us together and let it be.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t…”

He reached for her belt and lazily loosened it. He flicked one end of the belt to the side, then the other. The fabric floating on her abdomen was loose now, sliding apart as if her overheating skin couldn’t bear to be covered. “I told you. I’m tucking you in to bed.”

Unexpected tears bubbled behind her eyelids and she closed her eyes, refusing to grant them permission to fall. Reinn cursed in ancient Danish and covered her body with his again, kissing her eyelids, then her nose, and finally her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted—”

“Yeah, me too,” she said quietly, eyes still closed. It wasn’t fair, to have come so far for a singular purpose just to stumble across this kind of connection. Love had never even crossed her mind before. Her own parents didn’t meet and marry until they were in their forties. She had assumed it would be the same for her.

No. This wasn’t love. No matter how overwhelming her feelings for Reinn, this was lust, pure and simple. And they needed to satisfy it. Get it out of their systems. “Touch me,” she said, ignoring the catch in her voice.

He hesitated, clearly unable to do the same. “Maybe not tonight.”

“Tonight’s your only chance.” Another catch. Stupid emotions.

“I don’t think that’s true, do you?” He kissed the spot beneath her ear, then drew the bottom edge of her earlobe into his mouth and sucked gently. “But I did promise to tuck you in.” He moved down her body, spreading her robe wide, covering the flesh exposed with his hands and mouth. At her breasts, he plumped up the mound with his hand and drew as much as he could onto his hungry tongue. Each tug shot straight to her sex and lifted her hips off the bed.

She wound her fingers into his hair as he rubbed his beard down her torso. His short ponytail was easily undone, his dark curls falling into her fingers as he pressed kisses across her belly. He left a wake of goose bumps on her skin as he pressed lower still, her sex flooding with moisture specially made for his tongue.

He veered off to the side, kissing the inside of her thigh, then drifted across her swollen cleft to kiss the other leg as well. She moaned at the tease and he chuckled. “Greedy woman,” he said huskily.

For him? Hell, yes. “Kiss me,” she begged. “Plea—”

He cut her off with a soft, broad stroke of his tongue right up the middle of her bare folds, spreading her slickness up and around her clit. She squirmed under his firm grip on her hips but he held her in place as he began unravelling her from the inside out. All of her fears and concerns fell away as he licked and sucked and fucked her with his mouth, but none of those were quite the right words for way he was making love to her. It was sinfully carnal and stunningly perfect. And when he curved his hands around her thighs and nudged them wider, she didn’t need any encouragement. She slid her hands down her body to tangle with his, holding herself open for him.

Reinn pushed up on his elbows, and his appraisal of her spread out so wantonly should have been embarrassing. But he looked at her body with such raw appreciation that she just arched her back, wanting to preen for him. He glanced up her, his mouth glistening with her arousal and his eyes heavily lidded. “What works for you, min elskede? What will make you come the hardest?”

Anything, she wanted to say, but the empty ache demanded that she be more specific. “Your fingers inside me.”

He teased her with one long, broad finger first, then a second, before resuming his slow and steady efforts with his tongue. It was all so good, so amazing, but also overwhelming, and she twisted her head from side to side, trying to keep from slipping under the wave fast approaching. She didn’t want this to stop, but she also didn’t want to face the emotional reality about to come crashing down on her.

This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t something easy and simple. This was a giant of a man, worshiping her in the most intimate of ways to prove a point.

He loved her. She could sense it in the air and in his touch. This man loved her and she probably loved him and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to keep their hearts intact. Not at the end of this mission. Probably not even in the next few weeks.

And when she cracked, when his love made her explode into a million pieces…that would be the beginning of their end.

“Ashleigh,” he growled, dragging her attention back to him. Where it belonged. Oh, fuck. His gaze on her amped up the sensations his fingers triggered inside. “Breathe. Let go.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

He slid his fingers out of her sex and trailed them up her cleft and around her clit. “You can.”

She shook her head, eyes wide, as he lifted his hand a few centimetres above her mound.

“Let go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he murmured, snapping his wrist to lay a barely biting spank on her bare skin. She shuddered as her clit pulsed in response.

“Again,” she breathed.

“Eyes on me the whole time,” he ordered, and she nodded.

He slid his fingers deep inside her, building her up again, and just as it got to be too much, he slapped her pussy again, a little harder this time. The sharpness catapulted her forward, getting her past that scary bit where the wave was getting close but still escapable. Now all of a sudden it loomed above her, big and beautiful and escape was futile. Again he slid inside, fucking her harder this time with his hand, his thumb working her clit as she lost herself in the churn, and then he dealt one final stinging swipe, this time closer to her cleft, and she surged up the bed, back arching as his mouth covered her entire sex.

A million pieces didn’t do justice to how she felt. Every cell in her body hummed with spent satisfaction as he slowly moved up her body, rolling her onto her side and tugging her into his chest.  “Sleep,” he rumbled, covering them both with the feather-light duvet. She wanted to protest, but his warmth and his scent—an earthy, sweet soap smell that made her snuggle closer—worked their way under her skin and she started to drift.

“Reinn,” she murmured, her hands sliding under his shirt to find more of his warmth.

Another rumbled response, but this one she couldn’t decipher, and then she realized he was singing in Danish. He cupped her neck and pulled her in tighter and she gave in. One night, she promised herself. A little nap and then I’ll wake up and we’ll make love all night long.

6

Reinn watched Ashleigh sleep for hours before ducking out. He’d expected leaving her room to be hard, but even though he’d done a shit job of protecting their relationship so far, maintaining her privacy was a priority. So he slipped away under the cover of darkness, again finding a maidservant to follow. He had work to do on their itinerary before her and her team woke up.

***

“What do you mean, he’s not coming with us?” Ashleigh glowered at Aldric, ignoring Navena’s pointed look in her direction.

“Reinn has some unexpected business here in the capital. He’ll join us in a few days.” If Aldric thought her disgruntlement was out of line, he didn’t show it.

She loaded her travel bag and her satchel onto the wagon, trying not to gawk at the pink “donkey,” as the Vikings insisted on calling the magical creatures that looked so much like unicorns. Once outside the City Core, they transferred to a high-speed rail car. Navena settled in next to her as they headed north. The city fell away behind them, the landscape green and lush under the purple-hued sky of early morning, and for a while Ashleigh forgot she was grumpy.

“You’re going to miss your Viking, eh?”

“He’s not mine,” she muttered to her 2IC under her breath.

“Sure, whatever.”

Had they been that transparent? “Hypothetically speaking…”

“They’ll probably send you back to Earth.” Navena shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, hypothetically speaking, what did you do to get yourself kicked off your first deep space mission?”

“We kissed, at the welcome reception. It was caught on film.”

“Does the CO have it?”

“Do you think I’d be on this train if he did?” Ashleigh shook her head. “Just the Midgards. And maybe they won’t care.”

Navena snorted. “Kissing seems like a standard form of greeting here.”

Maybe that’s where it would end.

But it didn’t explain why Reinn wasn’t with them. If this were nothing, he’d know that and carry on with their fling. Or not. But he wouldn’t hide.

She hated the thought that she’d broken their working relationship by giving in the night before. Hated that she might not see him because of what they did. He’d disappeared in the middle of the night and her bed felt empty when she woke up. She wasn’t completely unprofessional, she could put on the mask and pull up her boots and pretend all was fine, but deep down…it really wasn’t.

Three hours later, they arrived at a small station. An Aulbjerg sign hung on the red and white wall facing the tracks, and standing in front of it were six people dressed in ancient garb.

Ashleigh glanced at Aldric who just smiled. They weren’t in Ny København anymore.

In the city, only those within the City Core dressed like this, and even then it was for ceremonial reasons. Ashleigh instinctively understood this was no ceremony. These people authentically lived this lifestyle every single day.

And Reinn didn’t want their faith used as a spectator sport.

She stepped off the train first, intent on setting a good example for her team to follow.

***

It took Reinn five days to make his way to the Artisan Flats. He knew he’d left Ashleigh in capable hands with Aldric, and the families in Aulbjerg, but he was still anxious to see her.

Not contacting her had been difficult. Worse than that, she hadn’t messaged him, and he knew she must be upset. She wouldn’t want to be left out of the decision making, and it wasn’t exactly fair the way he’d talked his way into her bed and then disappeared.

But life wasn’t fair, and he needed to be sure he could protect her before they spent any more time together. It was a minor miracle he’d heard back from his contact at the Midgard consulate in Florida before the summer solstice. If he hadn’t, he would have headed north anyway. He didn’t want to miss the celebration with Ashleigh.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him as he rode his horse over the hill and down into the village. He’d taken his private shuttlecraft to his farm, but he left it there, preferring to travel the few kilometres around the lake to the town itself as a settler would. He may have been born in the city, but he’d adopted Aulbjerg as home many years earlier.

And from the looks of it, now so had his woman.

Ashleigh was standing in the middle of the market, her arms full of vegetables. Her long black hair hung in a loose tumble of skinny braids and free flowing waves, and she was wearing a faded turquoise day dress. A Viking dress.

He hadn’t thought it possible to get turned on from such a distance, but one look at her dressed like a settler and he wanted to find the nearest dark corner and bury himself in her slick, wet heat. Kiss her dizzy and damn the consequences.

But if he did this right, there wouldn’t be any consequences that couldn’t be dealt with. Five long days had passed, what were a few more hours?

She turned as he thundered to a stop not far from her and dismounted. Expression guarded, she gave a slight nod in private welcome before lifting her voice. “Reinn.”

“Lt. Tavistock.” He matched her polite tone, but didn’t try to hide the hungry look he knew she’d find in his eyes. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”

“Agathe and Bern have been wonderful hosts. They speak highly of you, although I’m not sure why.”

His lips quirked. “You have your doubts about my worth?”

She stepped closer and thrust the squash, carrots and hangreet into his arms. “Hardly. You are without a doubt valued at more credits than most men on this planet or mine. But as I’m a woman and not a bounty hunter, I’m swayed by other factors.”

“Like communication, I’m guessing.”

“Got it in one, aren’t you a quizmaster? Take those vegetables to Agathe, I’m going to keep shopping for a bit.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

She scowled at him and he wanted to kiss her pouting lips until she laughed and threw her arms around his neck. Someday we’ll be free to do that. “Really not great at reading the womenfolk, are you?”

“You want some alone time to process my arrival and how best to be cold and standoff-ish toward me?”

“Precisely.” On closer inspection, her scowl didn’t really reach her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll see you there.”

“Fine.”

He stepped back and clicked his tongue for his horse to follow. He walked backwards, waiting for Ashleigh to turn away first. She didn’t, and by the time he got to the corner, his grin was pretty damn big for a man who’d just been told off by the woman he loved.

Agathe and her husband Bern lived on a small farm on the edge of the village. They had a large house with extra rooms, once filled with their five children who’d since grown and moved into homes of their own. And they’d been thrilled when he asked them to host Ashleigh’s team. He knew their home well, having stayed there himself the first few times he came to Aulbjerg for his university practicum placement.

When he’d built his own farm out here, knowing he’d need to travel back and forth, it had been with their approval and support. Their youngest son, Jannick, had even taken the job as his foreman.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he thought of Agathe as a second mother. So when he found her waiting for him in her garden, arms crossed and lips pursed, he knew he was in trouble. He hitched his horse to the fence and slowly approached with a grin. “God morgen,” he said in greeting, ducking down to kiss her plump cheek before leaping out of reach of her light slap on his chest.

“Barely. It’s almost noon. And five days after we were expecting you. What happened?”

“I had work to do.”

“Last week you said this was the most important thing for you, convincing the Earthlings of the value of our community and others like it.” Her voice was gentle but her words carried a serious thread of worry.

“It still is. Life got a bit complicated. And did you not see me walking down the lane and still come running out?”

“Only for the armful of vegetables you carry.”

“Ashleigh asked me to bring them back.”

Agathe stopped walking and gave him a raised eyebrow. “Ashleigh?”

Instead of answering her, Reinn stepped over the raised threshold into the comfortable common room. The cooking fire was outside today, as it was most of the summer, and the room was cool and dark. Comforting. “Is Bern around?” he called out.

“He’s readying the boats at the dock. Jannick brought yours over, in case you want to sail home tonight.”

Reinn turned, touched at the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You just dumped those poor people here with nothing more than their briefing reports on what to expect.”

“It looked like they were fitting in just fine. You sent their leader vegetable shopping.”

“She insisted.”

That made him smile. “Good.”

“Who is she to you?”

Right. They needed to move on this betrothal as soon as possible. They were totally transparent. Instead of answering, he dug in his pocket and handed over a special packet of batteries and data sticks. “I brought you a present.”

Agathe gasped and did a little dance as she ran across the room. “The new season of Asteroid Belt?”

“Bern’s favourite.” Reinn let her do her darnedest to squeeze the dickens out of him, then settled in a chair at the table. She brought him a glass of her husband’s special home brew beer. No modern Viking would choose authenticity over a nice cold one. Or a secret TV show addiction.

There was a data port at the train station, and tablets could be loaded there with entertainment content, but Bern was set in his ways. Agathe sometimes sent her children and now grandchildren to load data sticks for her stubborn husband, but this series had just released. Reinn was pretty sure none of them would have it yet.

As he was finishing his beer, Corporal Chin and Private Worst came in. Unlike Ashleigh, they still wore their uniforms, but they greeted Agathe with affection and joined him at the table. With some prodding, they shared what they’d been up to the last few days. Ashleigh had been busy, touring farms and visiting with individual families.

Ashleigh returned in time for lunch, but she stuck to the far end of the long plank table and he gave her the distance she wanted. It wasn’t until they all headed to the square for the solstice celebration and everyone was well into the mead and beer that he drifted to where she was sitting on a bench. She held herself with regal posture, her back tall and straight. Her dark braid curved over her shoulder and fell beside her breast, drawing his gaze to the slight shadow of cleavage above the silver clasp at the front of her dress.

She glanced over, then returned her gaze to the party.

“I like the dress,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“I didn’t wear it for you.” She stared straight ahead. “I’d cover my face on Drendali 3 and my hands on Arbhar. Here I wear a dress when I go into someone’s home.”

“Our women wear pants, too.”

“Maybe I like the dress.”

“Good, that makes two of us.”

“You keep saying that.”

“You know my favourite thing about a dress?”

“Don’t.”

“Easy access.”

Her eyes flared at him. “Reinn.”

“What?”

“You snuck out of my room in the middle of the night and then avoided me for five days. You can’t just show up and start flirting again.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry for making myself scarce. I promise I had good reason.”

“Secret-keeping reasons?”

In a manner of speaking. “I’ll tell you more about it tonight.”

She sighed. “More waiting?”

He made an affirmative noise, hoping it sounded regretful, and changed the subject. “You’ve kept yourself busy in my absence. Everyone seems to like you.”

She bit her lip and shot him a sideways glance. “Can I tell you something?”

He nodded. She could tell him anything.

“I was expecting more hostility. From some of the attitudes in Ny København, and even your attitude when we first met—”

He leaned in to cut her off. “That was just frustration at wanting you so damn much it hurt.”

She blushed and shook her head. “Even so.” She laughed. “God, I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Hostility.” He joined her, his own laughter warming him all the way from his toes up.

“Right. But without exception, everyone here is welcoming. Gracious and open.” Her face settled into a more serious expression. “I can see why you’re concerned about tourism running rampant.”

In a selfish way, he was glad he hadn’t needed to explain that to her. “With the increased speed of starships these days, the trip from Earth is no longer so substantial. Extended star cruises from other planets have been lobbying for port rights here for decades. We can turn them away, but there’s no way my father will refuse Earth ships access. For all our independence, we share the same blood. We are cousins, and that matters. I get that. But this…” He waved his hand across the market square at the celebration. “This will disappear. Credits talk. I want us to be more profitable, more stable, before we start to invite tour groups to our solstice celebrations, if that makes sense.”

She’d shifted closer as he talked, close enough to take his hand in hers and squeeze. “It does. And I want to help. I’m just a liaison officer, but I can write reports, try and convince my CO…” She shrugged. “It’s not much, but I’ll do what I can.”

“I think you can do more than that. I did some research into your FedNat contract and if—”

“You did what?” She wheeled on him, eyes blazing.

Damn. He’d meant to share that later. When they were alone and she could storm around his farmhouse throwing things while he laid out the whole plan. Once she heard everything…but it was too late.

“Reinn Ragnarson. What. Did. You. Do.” She hissed each word as its own sentence under her breath.

“Quietly, without naming names, I looked into the loopholes for getting you out of your commission.”

“Why?” The question burst out of her with a concerning amount of heat.

He pushed forward anyway. “So you could be my wife.”

Chest heaving, eyes blazing, she held up her hand and took a giant step back. “Whoa, buster.”

Behind her, people were turning and looking. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “We’re attracting attention, min elskede.”

She froze, then swallowed hard and stepped closer again. She levelled him with a beyond grumpy look, then settled on the bench beside him. Not close enough to touch, but she hadn’t turned on her heel and fled, either.

“You wanted a different kind of proposal?”

“Yes.”

“But you wanted a proposal.”

“No.” She worked her jaw back and forth. “We just met. Marriage isn’t something to rush into hastily.”

“Maybe not. But due to circumstances beyond our control, it’s the only way to be together.”

She snorted. “Wow, romantic.”

“I had a whole thing planned back at my farm. I was going to take you there on my boat.”

“That sounds vaguely like a kidnapping.” He shrugged and she laughed. “You would, wouldn’t you? Drag me off by my hair so I wouldn’t make a scene.”

He leaned over, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the revellers. “I’m not the one who needs to keep our affair a secret. You go on and make all the scene you want.”

“We’re not having an affair.”

“My tongue would disagree. It can still taste you.”

She bit back a groan.

“My cock, on the other hand, isn’t sure. It hasn’t had the pleasure of being buried deep inside you yet. But it does remember grinding against your tight little ass two weeks ago, and would very much like to do that again. Preferably without any clothes in between us this time.”

“You’re crazy,” she whispered, her cheeks beet red.

“Crazy for you. Crazy enough to say let’s get married. You’d have a right to be stationed near your husband, or they’d let you out of our commission.”

“I should give up my career to be your wife?” She looked him straight in the eye and rolled her eyes. “You’re overestimating how much I liked your tongue.”

“This isn’t about sex, but no, I’m not. I’ve been married before—”

“Don’t remind me—”

“And what we have? It’s nothing like that. That was strategic and convenient.”

“That’s exactly what you—” She spluttered and frowned. “That is exactly what you are suggesting. If you don’t see that, then this conversation is pointless.”

She stood and marched back into the square, disappearing into the crowd.

7

She didn’t know what she was more steamed about: that he’d presumed to make this decision for her or that his proposal wasn’t more romantic.

It made sense. A fling would reflect badly on the mission. A fairy tale love story would work to everyone’s advantage, binding the two worlds more closely together.

If only that was the truth, she’d dive in head first, because she knew they loved each other. But love didn’t always last, and throwing her career was a big deal.

And it would be a career-ending move, even if the wedding would have the tacit approval of the FedNat. Reinn was a possessive man. He wouldn’t want her to leave on deep-space missions—she wouldn’t want to leave him either. If she let herself fall for him, she’d fall all the way. And wake up in ten years with four small Vikings and be trapped on the other side of the galaxy from her home.

How is Earth any more your home than Midgard? Her father lived on Earth’s Moon. Her mother had relocated from Florida to the western coast of Australia. Neither was close enough to share a regular meal with. And Ashleigh had signed up with the Forces because she didn’t want to be stuck on one planet.

So here she was, considering tying herself to a man very much attached to another planet.

I’m not considering anything.

Nice dress, Ashleigh, the other side of her brain scoffed as she headed almost blindly toward Agathe and Bern’s home. She was done with the party.

What had she been hoping? That he’d show up—because she knew he would, for all her grumbling—and drop to one knee when he saw her in his native garb?

Yes.

With a strangled yell, she kicked at a bucket on the ground.

“What did that bucket ever do to you?” Reinn drawled behind her.

She whirled and pointed her finger at him. “You.”

“Yes, me.” He lifted his hands. “Don’t kick me, either.”

She kept going towards the house, walking backwards now. Just like in the market, even when she was mad at him she found it hard to look away. “You suck at proposals.”

“Let me try again.”

“No.”

“Watch out for the—” Her heel caught on the board at the bottom of the doorframe and she went tumbling onto her ass into the common room. Reinn stood over her, a gentle, laughing smile twisting on his face. “Step. Watch out for the step.”

She pushed to her feet and headed for the stairs. “You also suck at giving people space.”

“You don’t want me to leave you alone.”

“And listening. You suck at listening.” She was halfway up the steps when he grabbed her from behind, hauling her close.

He held her firmly at the waist and he settled her bottom on his thigh. He leaned them both against the wall, bringing his lips to her ear. “We’ve got a lifetime to sort that out. I look forward to endeavouring every day to be a better husband to you.”

“You talk about it so casually, like it’s just that easy.”

“You said marriage isn’t something to rush into. And you’re right. When people make a conscious decision to become spouses, that takes thought and consideration. But I didn’t choose you, Ashleigh. You were chosen for me. You’re my mate, selected for me by the gods, and all I need to think about are the details of protecting that. Protecting you. I’m not rushing into anything.”

“How can you know that? I don’t know that. I think that’s something we both need to be on the same page about.”

“I love you. I thought I loved Ylsa, but I was wrong. I met you and my world righted itself. And now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go. I know you’re scared, min elskede. But I also know you feel the same way. That’s why you’re frightened. Because it’s so damn big. Bigger than anything else.”

The whispered words fired up the hope she’d been trying her damnedest to tamp down, which only made her madder. She jerked forward, fighting his hold on her.

“You want me to let you go?” He kissed her neck. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please, Reinn,” she whispered, but then she stopped. No, she didn’t want him to let her go. She wanted him to listen and talk to her, but the last thing she wanted was distance. He eased his hold on her, and she used that moment to turn in the circle of his arms. She stroked her hands up his chest and around his neck, enjoying the way his pulse jumped under her palm. He always looked so cool and calm, but she liked that she got under his skin just as much as he did hers. “Take me to bed.”

With a growl he pressed her back against the wall, his hands in her hair and then on her shoulders, her hips, her breasts. His mouth covered hers in an urgent kiss that didn’t end until he was sitting on the stairs and she was straddling him, her wet sex riding his straining cock. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and stroked up her leg, under her skirts with the other. “I should fuck you right here, you impossible woman.”

“Yes,” she whispered, nipping at his lower lip. “I want you inside me.”

He rocked against her, his erection rolling across all her sensitive parts before pressing against the most sensitive part in exactly the right way. “No,” he ground out. “Not yet.”

She wiggled against him with a whimper and he cupped her bottom firmly in one hand as he lifted them both up off the stairs and turned, climbing again. “Which room are you in?”

She muttered instructions to him between kisses on his neck. The hot, tight skin there was suddenly irresistible to her. She wanted more of him naked. All of him. He bumped her back against the doorframe to the room at the end of the hall, but then she was being gently lowered on the low, wide platform bed. He kissed her soundly before standing again, and she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him undress. This time, it all came off. Tunic. Shirt. Belt. His torso was a thing of beauty, all angles and shadows, dark, curly hair trailing down the centre in an invitation to discover what was hidden behind the laces on his trousers.

“Let me,” she breathed as his hands moved there, and he climbed onto the bed, his long thighs straddling her with ease. She touched the hard planes of his abdomen first, loving the way he shuddered under her fingertips. She leaned up and kissed the flat space between his navel and his pants, then inhaled more of that yummy soapy smell she’d come to associate with him. And underneath it, the scent of her man.

It made her hungry.

She opened her mouth and sank her teeth ever so slightly into his skin, laving the spot almost immediately with her tongue. He groaned and pressed her head into his belly. “Again,” he muttered, and she laid a line of love bites across his stomach while her hands started to work on the laces. Underneath her fingers, his erection flexed and strained for release, and she teased the impressive length of him with her knuckles. On the third pass, he let out another growl and hauled her away, flicking his pants open with a lightning fast move.

“Touch me,” he commanded, and she greedily wrapped both hands around his cock. It was a thing of beauty, with silky skin stretched tight behind a wide head. Dusky pink down the length, almost dark purple behind the foreskin, and all hers. She dashed her tongue out and tasted the bead of pre-come swelling at the tip. Hesitantly, she opened her lips, wanting to taste more of him. He flexed his hips forward, easing in over her tongue, and she quickly choked as the weight of him filled her mouth. He pulled back, whispering for her to breathe, then swallow as he tried again. It was overwhelming and she struggled under him for a second before he twisted off and pulled her on top of him. “Something else you’ve never done?” he asked, tracing her lips with his thumb.

She snagged his finger between her teeth and shook her head. Holding his hand in place, she licked up and down his thumb before tugging it back into her mouth to demonstrate she did know a little bit about that act. “Not never. Just rarely. And never…like that. Or with anyone quite so large.”

He stared at her mouth as she pulled again at his thumb. “Show me, then, how you’ve done it.” He carefully removed her broach, loosening her dress. “And take that off.”

She slid down his legs as she lifted both her dress and the shift beneath it over her head. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, which left her just in her basic issue underwear. He could peel those off her in a minute if he wanted. Right now she was a woman on a mission. She wrapped her fist around his shaft, smoothing her other hand up his leg and onto those muscles in front of his hips that made her crazy. She hovered her mouth over his head, licking her lips. She had zero trouble producing enough saliva to make this blow job rock his world—she was practically drooling for another taste of him.

Slowly, she brought her hand up as she dropped her head, bringing her fingers to meet her lips before sliding apart again. Up and down she went, increasing her speed and suction as Reinn urged her on. He groaned and uttered half sentences about what he liked and what he wanted, but she was in the driver’s seat. The taste and scent of his pre-seed flooded her senses, short-circuiting her brain. Everything narrowed to her tongue, her hand, and all the man in between. And there was a lot of him. One day she’d practice taking him deeper, but for now she was playing a finesse game.

Reinn’s hands tangled in her braid, then pressed on her shoulders and her arms, skittering restlessly as his hips surged in a demanding rhythm she was more than happy to meet. She reached out with her free hand and wound her fingers into his, but he used the grounding gesture against her, hauling her back up his body like she was a rag doll.

“Enough of that, woman,” he rasped. He slid his other hand into her hair and pulled her closer to his face, stopping just before he got blurry. “I love you.”

He said it fiercely, like she might challenge him, but she couldn’t. Didn’t want to. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Say it again.” He looked at her mouth, which must be red and swollen and wet, and she started to repeat the profession of love, but he cut her off with a groan. This was a teeth-clashing, hungry kiss that amped them both up and sent her spinning. After a minute she realized that was a literal thing, because he was turning them both. Somehow in the process her underwear came off, and then he was right there, between her legs.

She thought of the birth control shot—and the clear bill-of-health—she’d received before she left Earth, and thought of what Reinn had said a week earlier. They should have had this conversation before this moment, but still… “I can’t get pregnant,” she whispered. “Not right now. I have a shot.”

Between her legs, his erection twitched. “What a shame,” he grinned. “I’ll enjoy practicing nonetheless. And when the shot wears off…”

She arched her hips. “We’ll take a babymaking vacation.” She touched his face with her fingertips. “I do love you, you crazy Viking.”

He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to touch hers. “And it is a great honour, min elskede.”

She rolled her hips, inviting him to fill her because she was more than ready, and when he did, slowly stretching her in ways she’d never imagined, she cried out with joy.

***

Reinn settled in the cradle of Ashleigh’s hips, giving himself a minute to gain some control. Because at the first slide into her body, he’d wanted to surge again and again, fucking her hard until they both collapsed in sated exhaustion. And that wasn’t what she deserved. That shouldn’t be their first time together.

His arms shook as he slowly moved over her, into her, and around her. Between them her small breasts jiggled against his chest and he needed one of them in his hand. Needed. He couldn’t quite understand this hunger he had for her, this all-encompassing desire to touch and taste and smell her constantly, but he’d stopped questioning. He shifted his weight to one arm and traced her nipple with his free hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned as the peak tightened and stood up for him. “Every bit of you is utter perfection.”

She rocked underneath him, a groan of her own the only response, and he wondered if she was already close. He should have prepared her better for him, but he was gone at the first touch of her pussy to his cock. She was so damn tight, but wet, and the combination was mind-blowing. He surged over her, then tilted his hips and thrust again, varying his entry until she gasped out loud. There. He found it again, that spot inside that would help her find her ultimate pleasure, and with her next gasp he knew he’d found the right rhythm for them. But she kept shifting, clawing at him and curving her legs around his hips trying to gain purchase. Gods. He wanted to tie her down and lick her through a few orgasms to tame the wild beast inside her.

“Reinn,” she gasped, then grabbed his face. “Stop thinking about making it perfect for me.”

He froze. “It’s my duty to pleasure you.”

“Trust me, fucking me like a stallion will bring me all sorts of pleasure.”

He grinned down at her, her sweet face all flushed and bright-eyed. “You want me to be your stallion?”

“Damn straight.”

He swept his arm under her hips and rolled them in one fluid motion. “Then ride, min elskede.”

Like a sphinx, she rolled up and away from his body. He thought he was already as turned on as he could possibly be, but the long, graceful stretch of her torso made him even harder inside her. She looked down at him through half-shut eyes and licked her lips as if to say, yes, I feel it, too.

He stroked his hands up her lean thighs, gripped snug to his body, and anchored his hands on the swell of her hips. She lifted up, as if she was going to fuck him, but he had other plans. She might be on top, but he was in charge. He thrust into her, intent on finding the spot that made her gasp before. She wobbled in place but stayed up right, and he started again, lifting her and driving deep in a strange and perfectly haphazard fashion. Form took a back seat to the function of driving her out of her beautiful mind.

Over and over again, he slid his cock into her, fast and hard. He didn’t need to tell her to touch herself, her hands were everywhere. He watched, devouring the sight of her pinching her nipples and stroking down her stomach. Holding herself open with one hand as she found and circled her clit with the other.

He watched, but he didn’t stop. He was a machine with a single purpose: keep his woman moaning. Even as his own climax thundered closer, he kept filling her, stretching her. He loved that look of wonder on her face as they joined over and over again, and he’d count the gods backwards and upside down if he needed to. But she was close, really close, and when she tipped forward and he took one pebbled peak in his mouth, she spasmed around him in bliss and he surged one last time, filling her with his seed.

He cupped her ass, loving the way her flesh filled his hands, then trailed his fingers up her spine as she lay on his chest.

“That was fun,” he murmured wryly. “You’re bossy.”

She buried her face in his neck.

“I can’t hear you.” He laughed as she mumbled the same thing again.

Her eyes slowly slid into view. “I can’t believe I said that,” she said. When he slid a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face all the way up to his, he saw she was blushing.

“I liked it.” He rubbed his hand along her jaw and into her hair, bringing her in for a slow, sweet kiss. “I had a whole night planned for you back at my farm. Oil, hot springs bath, gifts. A formal pledge of betrothal.”

She giggled. “And instead you got a fight, a chase, and crude demands.”

“It was perfect.” He hesitated before picking up their quarrel again, but they needed to know where they stood. He needed to know. “Are you still scared?”

She settled her head on his chest and laid her hand on his stomach. “Petrified. Mostly because I’m going to get yelled at by my CO and I’d prefer if you didn’t try to kill him.”

He grunted. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be there when that happens.”

She smiled against his skin. “Perhaps.”

“And us?”

“I wanted an adventure. This isn’t quite how I envisioned it, but…yes. I want us. I…I love you.” The hesitation wasn’t borne from doubt, but care, and it warmed his soul.

“I will make you happy, Ashleigh. For your entire life.” He said the words gravely, but as he did, a lightness floated into his voice. He could picture them on his farm together in their old age, with children and grandchildren and a legacy that would make her proud. It wouldn’t be hard to devote himself to pleasing this woman. Even if she was bossy. “And next week I’ll stand by you as we deal with the fall out. I can make a significant morning-gift.”

“That won’t be necessary, Reinn. It’s the twenty-third century.”

He didn’t follow. “Well, on the twenty-third century on this planet, a husband proves he can provide for his wife.”

She made a noncommittal hum. “Do you have a data link at your farm?” She had a determined look on her face, one he’d already come to recognize. “There’s no reason to wait. I’ll call my CO tomorrow.”

8

“No.”

Ashleigh bit back a smile at Reinn’s stern look. “Yes.”

“This conversation is better held in person. And after we’ve had a few days—”

“Of wild monkey sex? Yeah, I bet that would be better for you.” She propped her hands under her chin and gave him her best don’t bother look, even as he scowled. “The sooner I tell him, the better it will be. My career, my decision.”

“I don’t like that.”

She winked. “Get used to it.”

He gave her a long look. “And if they send you back to Earth? If you wait until we’re betrothed, then the trade agreements should protect you more.”

“If they want to send me back, I’ll go. But I’ll come back. The more I think about it, though, the less likely that seems. I’m not abdicating my responsibilities here. Just…complicating them.” She pushed herself up, pulling the sheet with her. “Now, I need to have a quick wash up, and then we’ll go back to the celebrations, yes?”

She left him sputtering and slipped down the hall to the common bath. Energy conservation was a big deal on the Flats, so the bathing water came from a solar heater attached to the outside of the home. She turned that knob, waiting for the basin to fill with the sun-warmed liquid. It wasn’t quite as amazing as the hot springs water that supplied her bath at the inn in Ny København, but it still had that special Midgard tingle that she’d quickly come to love.

When she was finished, she carried a small bowl and a clean washcloth back to Reinn. She handed it to him, then went to her bag. “I have a gift for you,” she admitted.

“When did you buy that?” He sat up.

“A couple of days ago.”

“When you were mad at me for not calling?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“And your heart wants me.” He grinned and reached for her. “I like the sound of that.”

She brought the small leather pouch with her, holding it out for him as she settled on her knees between his legs. Inside was a comb, and she hoped she’d correctly interpreted the significance of the gift. She’d been in the market and had overheard a conversation between two vendors. As she couldn’t very well come out and say that she had a special love herself, she’d waited until the end of the day, then gone back and picked out a comb that made her think of him. The edge was decorated with a sword, which she had yet to see him use, but she’d heard he was quite skilled. And trailing up the hilt were vines, for the farmer in him.

He held it in his hands, not saying anything, long enough to make her worried.

“If it’s not to your liking…” She shrugged. “I’m sure I could use it.”

“It’s wonderful.” He looked up at her, surprise written on his face. “It’s just that for us, a comb is a—”

“A special gift for a lover. For a husband.” She smiled. “I know.”

He set the bowl and the comb on the floor beside the bed and rolled her underneath him.

It took them until dusk to rejoin the party and they walked back to the square holding hands.  Ashleigh felt like she was floating on air, and every time her shoulder brushed Reinn’s bicep, a little thrill fluttered through her chest.

The joy of their private afternoon fled when she saw the shuttlecraft sitting in the middle of the square, however. The visitors must have just arrived, because Bern was hustling up the lane toward them, all out of breath.

“Reinn, come quickly,” the older man called.

Before they rounded the shuttlecraft, she knew who she’d find. Captain Reynolds stood toe-to-toe with Navena, who was politely repeating that she didn’t know where Lt. Tavistock was.

“I’m right here,” she said, forcing her voice to be clear and without concern. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Selfish, maybe, but not wrong.

Reynolds turned on his heel. “A word in private, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded toward the shuttlecraft and stepped inside. He followed, hitting the button to close the hatch behind them. She didn’t look back at Reinn, not needing the fury that would surely be on his face etched in her mind.

Her commanding officer had just crashed their summer solstice celebration. Literally. With a fucking shuttlecraft. It was beyond offensive, and she was the reason for it. A sick feeling flooded her gut. So much for pledging to always be on his side. She’d gone about this all the wrong ways.

Her boss stared at her for a minute before raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Yes, sir?” She stood at attention despite the fact she wasn’t in uniform. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her post-sex glow and her crazy Viking hair.

“Nice hair.” He didn’t say it like he actually liked it.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve done a good job of connecting with the locals.” And he didn’t say that like it was a good thing.

“Sir?”

“Don’t play dumb, Lieutenant.”

“My apologies, sir.”

“For being dumb or for sleeping with a fucking Viking? Because that was pretty dumb as well. I knew you were too young for this mission. Too green. I didn’t realize you were fucking stupid as well.”

She held his gaze as he blustered. The cursing was a good thing. When he got scary quiet and failed to find any appropriate words, that was when one needed to really worry.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I have started a relationship with Reinn Ragnarson, it’s true. It’s still quite new. I was planning to contact you tomorrow, as soon as I could get to a data link.”

“Convenient, that you were planning to tell me tomorrow. His father told me this morning. That was fucking embarrassing, Tavistock.”

Ah. It all made sense now. “Again, I apologize, sir, but technically speaking, I was not in a relationship with Ragnarson this morning.”

“Are you calling the King of Midgard a liar?”

“Not at all. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. Or misinformation shared. I’m not sure.”

“You know he told me about this over a beer? Like it wasn’t a big deal?” He started pacing back and forth. “He told me in front of fucking Jacoby.”

“I regret that embarrassment, sir. But flying a shuttlecraft here. Landing it in the middle of the square. Sir, I realize that you are upset with me, but that was surely upsetting for this community.”

“I don’t give two flying fucks if they’re upset!” She waited for him to realize what he’d just said, and when he did, he scowled. “Damnit.”

“Yes, sir. Might I suggest that we move the craft somewhere else?”

“No, you may not. What are your intentions with this Viking?”

“May I speak freely?”

“Sure, why the hell not?”

“It’s more his intentions that are the issue, sir. He’s asked for my hand in marriage.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Ashleigh maintained a neutral face, although it was hard. Sure, Reinn was kind of crazy. But he was her kind of crazy.

“And let me guess, you’re going to accept.”

“Love makes us do crazy things, sir. Will that be a problem?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. Does his father know yet?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” He stalked over to the door, tapping the release button, and the hatch swung open. She followed him off. Reinn was nowhere in sight, and her stomach lurched.

The captain barked an order to the private standing beside the craft, and the sentry scurried inside. Ashleigh had stopped listening. Where are you? Her heart ached. She’d just laid it all out on the line for her boss, he better not be having second thoughts about her, even if she was unfortunately attached to some bumpkins.

And then he was there, with Bern, who was carrying a tray laden down with mugs and bottles of mead, and her heart soared.

He stepped forward, eyes steely, hand extended. “Welcome to Aulbjerg. We weren’t expecting you.”

Her boss shook Reinn’s hand and stepped closer, dropping his own voice as he said…something. Reinn flicked his eyes in her direction, then back at the man in front of him. He nodded and muttered a response.

She scowled. She’d been handling it. Why did men always feel the need to have private conversations, like a wink and a nod was somehow better than a group discussion, clearing the air?

Her boss stepped back and lifted his voice. “People of Aulbjerg, I apologize for interrupting your celebration. It was rash and uncalled for. If we could add a little something to the festivities, I’ll have this monstrosity moved and we’d like to stay.” He waved his hand and the private brought forward a large box labelled with the name of a pastry shop from the city. “I understand this shop is a bit of a national treasure. We’ve been lucky enough to have some of their tarts over our time in Ny København.”

Cake. Ashleigh bit back a laugh. He had the growl of a pitbull, but the captain could be a true diplomat when needed. Who didn’t like sugar?

No one in Aulbjerg, it turned out. A great cheer went up, and as the shuttlecraft fired up, the partying resumed.

For everyone except Ashleigh and Reinn. He watched her carefully as everyone moved away and she returned his steady, guarded gaze.

“Min elskede,” he started, his tender words confirming he wasn’t pissed. But maybe she still was. Sort of. “You’re such a hothead. Do you think I made a secret deal for your hand in marriage?”

“Did you?”

He laughed. “No. I would, except then I’d fear we wouldn’t get back to all that wild monkey sex you promised me.”

“I don’t recall that being a promise.” She let a small smile slip through. “More of a caution.”

He shrugged that off as if he’d take it either way. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him we’re in a relationship.”

“He told me that he’d break my kneecaps if I hurt you.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I’d like to see him try.”

Reinn stepped closer, sweeping her into his arms. “If I hurt you, I’d let him.”

9

Her first look at Reinn’s farm was, unfortunately, in the dark. The party had gone late into the night, long after the sun had set on the longest day of the year. Now they were alone, and Reinn was hurrying her through the beautiful living space.

“Hold on, I want to see this place I’m going to call home,” she murmured, tugging on his arm.

“You’ll have your entire life to explore. There’s a kitchen and a fireplace and a bunch of places to sit. None of them are nearly as interesting as the bedroom, I promise.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“You didn’t get enough this afternoon?” She shifted, trying to catch his lips, but he moved too quickly.

“I told you. I have gifts and oil and a hot springs bath. I’m going to make love to you until dawn. Then we shall take a nap, and do it all over again.” He kissed his way down her neck. “And tomorrow you can set about making this house our home.”

“Until dawn?” she breathed, tipping her head back as he reached the pulse point in the hollow of her collarbone. “You aren’t tired?”

He pressed his hips into her belly, and her sex pulsed as the thick length of his erection made itself known between them. “Do I feel tired?”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure.” She shrieked as he hoisted her over his shoulder and stalked through the single story farmhouse. She vaguely noticed a large dining space between the common room and the kitchen, and then they were heading down a hallway. Dim lights lit up as they moved through each space, then faded away again, a clever motion-sensor energy conservation device that Ashleigh would have wanted to ask more about if she didn’t think she might get spanked for it.

Reinn’s hands were hot, possessive brands on her hip and thigh. Ashleigh clung to his back as he moved them purposefully to his room. Their room. Sweetness and light, she couldn’t wrap her head around that.

It had been a long time since she’d had a place of her own, and even then it had been her mother’s home, not hers.

He set her down more gently than she expected. None of the bed tossing of earlier. This time they stood together in the middle of a large bedroom with a wall of windows, that when Reinn turned her slowly, wrapping himself around her from behind, she realized she was actually looking at sliding doors. And on the other side was what looked like a natural hot spring pool that overlooked the lake, surrounded by solar lights.

“Oh,” she said, a single word infused with wonder.

“I built the house around this bath,” he said quietly.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Even more so through your eyes.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice the stack of gifts on the bed.”

She blinked in that direction, then laughed. “I was wondering why you didn’t toss me down somewhere flat.” The bed was more like the one at the inn in the city, a tall four poster bed, made from heavy dark wood and draped in raw canvas drapes. Private, intimate, and entirely masculine. A bed built for sex.

A nervous shiver worked its way through her body. So much of their connection was physical, and she’d agreed to marry him anyway. She was out of her mind.

“Open them.” He nudged her forward. Four boxes lay stacked two-high. The first one held another amber bottle of oil. She glanced back at Reinn over her shoulder, and the sight of him lazily undressing behind her stole her breath. “Keep going,” he said, his voice rough and raspy.

She licked her lips as she opened the larger box beneath the oil. A dark purple dress, shot through with gold thread. “Wow,” she whispered.

“I like the one you’re wearing just as much. It touches me that I didn’t need to ask you to don the clothes of my people.”

The next small box was light as air, and she opened it with great curiosity. Inside lay a simple leather necklace with a bone pendant. Reinn leaned over her and took it from her fingers, bringing it up to her neck. “I made this for you. It will look beautiful when you are wearing nothing else.”

Before she could open the final box, Reinn started to undress her. “I’m not done,” she laughed.

“Trust me, I’m helping.”

She let her hands fall to her side as he took a creative approach to removing her dress, starting with a thorough exploration of her breasts. Her head tipped back against his shoulder as he gently teased her nipples before pulling the garment over her head. He kissed the bare skin at her neck, then tugged her loose shift down her body instead of up.

Ashleigh groaned as her breasts popped free and Reinn left her arms trapped in the confines of her underdress stuck at her waist. He snagged the bottle of oil and poured some in his other hand, just enough to make his skin glisten.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” he growled. “Watching you across the room, all straight-laced and proper. I was the only person in the room who knew just how hot you could get underneath that uniform, Lieutenant. The way you ground your ass against me that first night…do you know how tempted I was to drag you into a dark corner and fuck you senseless?”

“I would have let you,” she whispered, cheeks burning.

“People would have heard you.” His voice worked its way under her skin and heated her from the inside out. “You can’t keep quiet when I’m fucking you.”

She couldn’t keep quiet now, and all he had inside her at the moment were whispered filthy promises.

“Let it out, min elskede. I love the sounds you make. Maybe even enough to let others hear them.”

She froze. He was still making lazy circles around her breasts, and for a minute she thought he didn’t feel her reaction, but then he kissed her neck. “I said maybe. I don’t want to share you.”

“I can’t imagine wanting anyone else in our bed, Reinn.” She twisted her face into his neck, wanting to touch him. She craved his solidity, a reassurance that this was real and forever.

“I feel the same way, min elskede, I promise. But if you ever do…” He rolled his palm over one nipple, then the other. “I’d find a way to make it happen in a way that made us both happy. I know you like to watch.”

She closed her eyes. She hadn’t known that about herself until she’d arrived here, but watching people together from the circle of Reinn’s arms had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. His words and his touch and the memory of all of their love-making from the afternoon all fuelled her desire and she found herself writhing against his hand as he worked his way down her body. The shift fell to the floor, baring the rest of her, and then she was in his arms and he was perching her on the foot of the bed.

She clung to his neck as he spread her legs, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. They watched together as he drizzled oil on his cock.

“I promised to show you how I touch myself,” he said, and she wondered if it was possible to orgasm based on auditory stimulation alone. A tremor wracked her body.

He gripped himself firmly, sliding his hand up and down his swollen shaft. She was captivated by the slick oil and how it highlighted the topography of his skin. Blood vessels skimming under the surface. The subtle fold of his foreskin stretched behind the thick plum head. The dark slit at the very end that she wanted to get her mouth on again.

She slipped her hands away from him, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples before leaning back on one hand to touch herself the same way he was.

He hissed when her fingers started making a wet, juicy sound as she rubbed her clit faster, and then he leaned into her, reaching past to shove the boxes to the ground.

“I need you,” he ground out.

“The fourth present,” she gasped as he climbed onto the bed, moving her bodily to the middle of the mattress.

“It’s a robe.”

“Nice,” she whispered. “I like—”

He cut off her words with a kiss. She splayed her hands wide on his shoulders as he moved on top of her, loving the play of muscles as he took charge. His weight settled in all the right places as he deepened the kiss, fucking her mouth with his tongue, and she gave herself over to him completely, her limbs loosely twining around his body. She could feel his erection, thick and hard against the top of her mound, and she wanted to beg him for it.

Fuck me, she wanted to say, but he was still kissing her and touching her and that oil was spinning her slowly out of her mind. Her nipples tingled and her sex pulsed, and everywhere in between was hot and primed for whatever he wanted to do with her. To her.

And then he was sliding into her, ever so slowly, and his oil-slicked shaft spread that irresistible, addictive heat from the inside out.

“Reinn,” she whispered against his cheek, her voice stolen by the Viking sex gods, and he gathered her in his arms as he started thrusting, fucking her hard and slow and so thoroughly she thought she might cry.

They’d made love all afternoon, but she already couldn’t remember it feeling like this. So full. So complete. So simple and perfect and yet still impossible to believe this was really happening to her.

He whispered her name in return, then louder, and that triggered the return of her voice. His next thrust had her yelling something incomprehensible, and as he pounded deeper, she wrapped herself harder around him and let loose a chant of appreciation that would definitely make her blush should he remind her of it afterward.

Her orgasm ripped through her, taking them both by surprise.

Reinn held himself deep inside her as she spasmed around him, then slowly licked his way into her mouth, a sensual kiss that told her he wanted her to shatter all over again for him. Oh god, she thought, but then he was moving again and before her first orgasm ebbed, another was looming on the horizon. She felt herself slip toward it and gave in as his movements grew jerkier, more primal. They came together, him grunting into her neck and her screaming his name.

She held him tight, and when he tried to move she protested vocally.

“I’m heavy, min elskede.”

“You sound tired. And you make a wonderful blanket.”

He chuckled. “You won’t think so once the endorphins wear off.”

“Always the scientist, my Viking.” She released him enough for him to roll beside her, then she followed, tucking into his side.

***

Reinn thought Ashleigh had fallen asleep curled against him. They’d lain like that for almost an hour. At some point he’d pressed the button by the head of his bed to turn the lights off, but when the first pale light of dawn cracked over the horizon, his beautiful betrothed rolled onto her back. He tried to resist the urge to palm her bared breast, but when she murmured something about the hot spring bath, he gave in.

“You feel like a soak?” He took a deep, growly breath at the perfect feeling of her nipple against the inside of his hand.

She arched her back. “And more, if you keep that up.”

With a regretful final squeeze, he rolled her toward the far side of the bed. “Come on.”

He slid the floor to ceiling glass panel door open, the cool early summer night a bracing change from the warmth of Ashleigh’s embrace.  He clenched his fists at his side, which earned him an appreciative hum. “What?” he turned and held out his hand.

She took it, stepping outside with a shiver. “You’re a beautiful man. I love it when you flex all your muscles like that.”

“I didn’t flex anything. It’s just cold out here.” He patted her on the bottom as she stepped toward the small pool fed by the natural spring under his property. “Get in there.”

She climbed up, pausing to look back at him. With her long, willowy limbs, balanced delicately on the rock edge of the pool, she looked just like Rán. He admitted as much and she laughed. “The sea witch?”

He grunted, and climbed in, pulling her down onto his lap in the warm mineral-infused water. “I was thinking more about how she was the mother of nine daughters.”

She smiled and arched her head back, dipping it into the water before sliding back against his body. “Is that your plan for me? Fill me with babies, make me forget my dreams of soaring through the stars?”

His arms tightened around her. “We have spaceships. I’ll never hold you back from your dreams.”

She shook her head. “I had it wrong, Reinn. My dreams weren’t of space adventures, plural. My dream was at the end of a space adventure. This is right where I want to be.”

“There will be backlash.”

She shrugged. “And we’ll survive it. I’m two light-years away from where the drama will mostly be anyway. Everyone here doesn’t find this nearly as scandalous as the FedNat brass will.”

Like their fancy ships couldn’t get here a hell of a lot faster than that if they wanted to. “I worry.”

“How can you worry with a sunrise like that?” She turned his face gently and pressed her cheek against his. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“When you arrived, I was so worried. That this whole mission was a disaster waiting to happen. And inside…I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. Alive, but at peace, too.” He squeezed her hips. “I’ll move mountains to keep you, Ashleigh.”

“You won’t need to, my Viking, but that’s really sweet.”

He wanted to protest that he wasn’t sweet, but then she was kissing him and grinding in his lap, and it didn’t matter anymore.

EPILOGUE

Nine months later

“Is it weird to be packing up your uniform for good?”

“Nope.” Ashleigh leaned over the table and poured more mead into Navena’s mug. Her friend had just returned to Midgard, this time for a social visit.

After the initial three month mission, most of the FedNat cells had rotated out. Ashleigh’s team had left, but she’d stayed. The last six months she’d served as a liaison officer for the overall mission, working mostly in the city, travelling around her new home planet as needed. She was as much a diplomat for Midgard as Earth in the talks as the two worlds forged a tighter connection.

A connection that would hopefully grow even stronger once they announced she was with child. Reinn was still in the city, talking to a security team. They’d told his parents that morning. Ashleigh had escaped with Navena after breakfast, and they were now at the farm. It had been a mild winter, and already things were greening up nicely around them.

She had a weaving lesson later, but for now, they could stay cuddled up in front of the fire. She picked up her cup of lacveena tea and breathed in deeply.

“Oh, that reminds me, I brought you some Earth ginger. It’s freeze-dried, and needs to be quarantined and scanned, but they should release it to you in a few days.”

“How did you know I’d need it?” Ashleigh rolled her eyes. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

Ever since the wedding, which had been quiet and private, the Earth media had been announcing a pregnancy every week. Now that it was really true, they’d probably lose their minds. Luckily her husband had more sway over his father than either of them had ever thought, and with a single request, a serious arms-length media ban had been put in place around Ashleigh. At least on Midgard.

And that was part of the reason for her giving up her commission. The other lay just outside her large picture window.

“You really love it out here, don’t you?” Her friend cuddled closer and Ashleigh looped her arm around Navena’s shoulders.

“I do. You’ll have to visit whenever you get a chance.”

“Is your mother coming for the birth?”

Ashleigh winced. “I haven’t told her yet. I will. Tonight. Reinn will be here for dinner and we’ll set up a data link. I’ll send it as a recorded message, though, I don’t want to hear her opinion on how I’m throwing away my career.”

“It’s nature’s way that children rebel against their parents. Go their own path.” Navena winked. “I should know, I’m the middle of five kids, and I don’t think I’ll ever procreate. You can have the babies for me.”

Ashleigh rubbed her still flat tummy. “Okay. Because I think I’m already addicted to them.”

“Ew, honey. But okay, whatever floats your boat.”

***

Reinn took the train north so he could read. He needed a bit of space and processing time after everything that had been discussed. He was seriously disturbed by the thought of his wife and children being spied on by invisible satellites. So much for their farm being a private sanctuary.

He didn’t want to be vibrating with rage when he got home, so he poured himself into a report on sustainable hydroponics.

It didn’t work.

When he got off the train, Aldric was waiting with his horse. His second must have checked in with someone in the city.

“Tak,” he muttered his thanks.

“Velkomst.” Aldric raised his eyebrows. “One would think you’d be happier to see your beautiful wife.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself.” Reinn surprised them both with the growl. He didn’t share his wife, but he’d always been proud of the appreciative looks she got from friends and admirers.

Now he wanted everyone to leave them alone.

“Of course.” Aldic waited until they were underway before trying again. “Feel like beating the shit out of me with a sword later?”

Reinn let out an honest-to-goodness belly laugh. Yes, that sounded perfect. “Consider the challenge accepted.”

Aldric stared straight ahead for a minute, his face as placid as that of his horse. “You know I was kidding about the part where you win, right?”

“We’ll see about that.”

It was an easy twenty minute ride to the farm. When they arrived, Aldric took both horses to the barn without being asked. He was a good second, even if he needed to keep his eyes to himself.

He found Ashleigh in the kitchen, and she barely had a chance to put down the knife she’d been chopping vegetables with before he swept her into his arms. “I’ve missed you,” he said after kissing her more than a few times.

Navena laughed from a stool at the table a few feet away. He nodded gruffly in her direction.

“It’s been nine hours, my Viking. We regularly don’t see each other for a few days in a row.” Ashleigh patted his cheek. “What’s gotten into you?”

“That’s changing soon, right?”

“Depends. Are you going to insist on shuttling me back and forth to the city as I get heavy with your child?”

“Yes.” Well, it was honest, if not smart. “No?”

She shook her head. “I love you, Reinn. How’d the security meeting go?”

“Ah, you know.”

“Yes, I do. I realize I’m now a trophy wife and a diplomatic pawn, but until a few months ago I was a liaison officer of some merit. So…how’d the meeting go?”

He grimaced. “There’s debate over creating a no-fly space over our farm.”

She laughed. “For real? Oh my. That doesn’t sound like a great use of resources.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I do. And of course you do. All this nonsense will die down. And if they get a few images of me and the baby, so be it. Maybe we can cut that off by inviting reporters here on our terms. And raise some funds for flying hospitals while we’re at it.”

On the far side of the room, Aldric opened the side door. His normally passive face got a curious look on it when he spied Navena at the table. He nodded at Ashleigh, then wandered in and looked around awkwardly.

“Hey there, Viking man,” Navena said easily.

Ashleigh bit back a smile. “Aldric, would you stay for dinner?”

“Uhhh…” His second glanced at the other guest, then at the floor. “Maybe.”

Reinn wasn’t sure if he was helping, but he waded in anyway. “Aldric and I were going to spar a bit, should we wait until after dinner?”

Navena’s eyes lit up. “Swords? Can I play?”

Aldric turned pink. “Errr.”

Ashleigh grinned. “Go on. Don’t hurt him,” she added, pointing her finger at Navena.

Aldric shot him a panicked I can’t spar with an Earth woman look, but Reinn wanted a few minutes alone with his wife. He shrugged and watched as the other man haplessly followed Navena outside.

“Do you want to chop?” Ashleigh asked him innocently as soon as the door banged behind them.

He shook his head.

“Slice the meat?”

He grinned and pulled her close. “Nope.”

“Set the table—Oooh!”

“I’m never going to tire of picking you up and tossing you on the nearest flat surface, woman.”

She wiggled on the countertop and splayed her legs, inviting him to nestle in closer to her body. “That’s how it should be, my Viking.”

THE END

Want more sexy second chance romances?

If you liked Midgard, try my Wardham series. There’s an excerpt from What Once Was Perfect on the next page, and it’s available for FREE at most retailers right now.

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Zoe York lives in London, Ontario with her young family. She is the NYT and USA Today bestelling author of Fall Out, published in the SEALs of Summer military romance superbundle, and the acclaimed Wardham and Pine Harbour series. She’s currently chugging Americanos, wiping sticky fingers, and dreaming of heroes in and out of uniform.

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Other Books by Zoe York

THE WARDHAM SERIES

Between Then and Now

What Once Was Perfect

Where Their Hearts Collide

When They Weren’t Looking

Beyond Love and Hate

No Time Like Forever

PINE HARBOUR

Love in a Small Town

Love in a Snow Storm (coming November 2014)

SEALS UNDONE

Fall Out

Fall Hard (coming November 2014 in the SEALs of Winter boxed set)

Enjoy the following excerpt from What Once Was Perfect:

THEY sat like that for almost an hour. At one point, Kyle was convinced that she had fallen asleep, but he didn’t want to risk losing the moment, and he couldn’t see her face without shifting. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he didn’t mind, because her hair smelled amazing, an intoxicating blend of honey and some kind of fruit. Thank god her ass was perched high on his thigh and her legs were bent over his other arm, because in the space beneath he had developed a brutal erection. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on by cuddling before, except maybe in those first few weeks of dating when they were still working on rounding all the bases.

He remembered every single day of that spring, the long string of her firsts: Laney slowly peeling off her t-shirt in the barn, then crossing her arms against her chest; her sliding across the bench in his truck, straddling him, grinding her jean-clad pussy against his cock; getting completely naked in a hotel room after the Science Society Formal Ball, wanting to punch a hole in the wall after their only condom broke. Laney had made that night worthwhile anyway, sliding his cock between their bodies, holding herself open, rubbing against the length of him until they both shattered apart. They’d spent the night twisted up in each other, and when Laney wrapped her warm little hand around him in the shower the next morning, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He returned the pleasure before check out, and two weeks later when he moved into his first apartment, they had an entire box of condoms at the ready.

She lifted her head and he was torn between wanting her to see where he had wandered in his mind, and hoping she’d return to her original position so he could keep smelling her hair like a pervert. He didn’t dare think that she might be wandering around the same spots on memory lane, even when she pressed her forehead against his chin, then rubbed up his face until her lips connected with his jaw. Kyle stifled a groan and eased her legs down to the ground, freeing his arm to press between their bodies.

“Laney, sweetheart, that’s not a good idea.” It’s brilliant, asshole, shut up. He could barely grind out the words. His body was not on board with being noble.

“Probably not.” She pressed against his hand, flat against her upper chest, stretching her body to reconnect with his face, and the upper swell of her breast filled his palm. This time the groan was louder. “Tell me to stop.”

“We’re going to regret this.” Freud would have a field day with what was going in his head. Baser instincts were definitely gaining traction.

“Probably. Tell me to stop.” Her lips found the corner of his mouth, at an angle, and then her face turned again and they were sharing the barest of open mouth kisses, her bottom lip resting on his, pressing it down. Her eyes were wide, pupils dark and full of want. He didn’t see any hesitation, only heat, and his resolve slipped. One kiss. He let her breath slip into his mouth, hot and moist, and he was lost, disoriented in a mixed fog of memories and unfulfilled fantasies.

With a slight jerk, his extended arm relaxed, allowing Laney to crawl back on his lap, straddling his hips this time, and she looked down at his erection with a smirk. “I knew you didn’t want me to stop.”

“Wanting you to stop and knowing you should are two different things. Hell no, I don’t want you to stop.” He dragged a ragged breath into his chest and ran his hands down the sides of her body, squeezing her hips, tracing over her thighs and then up again, harder this time, sliding his palms under her sweater and over the thin cotton tank top hiding underneath. “But I don’t want you to hate me, either.”

“I’m not an innocent college kid anymore, Kyle.” She wiggled her hips, trying to slide closer to the bulge in his jeans. “I like sex. You make me think of sex. I’m all fired up from fighting. Let’s go.”

It should have been an ardour-dousing wakeup call, the casual offer of something that was once so special to her, to them. The higher-thinking part of his brain protested that something was wrong, that Laney couldn’t possibly want a booty call, but all Kyle could focus on was the easy confidence that she had gained, how she must have gained it, and his primal need to re-possess that which he had lost. He could hear raspy need in his voice and he didn’t care. “Now it’s your turn to tell me to stop, sweetheart.”

VIKING’S HEART

The Varangian Chronicles One

by

Loribelle Hunt

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Welcome to Thor’s Hammer! Viking’s Heart is the first story in The Varangian Chronicles. If you enjoy this story, please join my mailing list to be the first to hear about the next book in The Varangian Chronicles series.

~ Loribelle

1

The compound had been buzzing with activity all day. Jolie peered out the window of her third floor apartment, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She’d expect her father, Clark, to send for her if he was conducting some kind of business today. Or send word for her to remain in her rooms. He’d done neither. It made no sense and that made her nervous. Anxiety settled like a knot in her stomach. She had to find out what was going on.

She left the apartment and jogged down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor. Outside she stepped into the large space that usually served as a parking lot, gathering space, or playground to the kids who lived inside their walls. Today, it had been cleared of all the vehicles and bikes leaving it looking empty. It would feel abandoned if not for all the residents moving from building to building. Everyone looked like they had a purpose and no one she greeted would hold her gaze. The knot in her middle turned to rock. What the hell?

She crossed to the large building they called the hall. Basically it was a community center. The ground floor was mostly bar space and a large kitchen. The two upper floors were used as offices and additional storage when the warehouses were overfilled, which wasn’t often since the war with the Delroi had been settled. Apparently they frowned on smuggling, her father’s bread and butter. Thankfully they weren’t the only aliens who’d come to Earth, and the Varangians didn’t same to have the same issue. She caught the door as one of her father’s men exited. He threw her a startled look that quickly morphed into pity.

“He’s in the bar,” he muttered. “Good luck.”

Why did she need luck? This couldn’t be good. Inside she squinted until she spotted Clark sitting deep in the shadows of a corner booth. He motioned her over, indicated she should sit down. She did so reluctantly. Something was very wrong and she had a bad feeling it involved her, though she couldn’t get a read off of him.

“What’s going on?”

It was unusual but not unheard for him to keep her in the dark like this. In the last few years she’d become his second in command. Sort of. He shared more with her than anyone else but that wasn’t saying much. He’d always been reserved with her. Hell, with everyone. She was years past expecting affection from him. Still, this seemed...odd. Even for Clark Hall.

“Stone is coming to get you. You’re his problem now.”

Stone, the leader of the Varangians. Jolie stared at her father. She was too stunned to speak, and that was saying something, because the news he’d just dumped on her was completely outrageous--and illegal. Not that legalities had ever stopped him before. He didn’t seem the least bothered now, either. His tone and expression were just as cold as ever.

“Excuse me?” she finally managed to force between lips that were suddenly numb.

“I owe the Viking money. He’s demanding you in payment,” he said.

He didn’t even have the grace to look offended about it.

“Why?”

Her father shrugged. “I had to abandon a shipment last month. I’m sure you remember.”

Yeah she did, but that wasn’t what she meant.

“No, why does he want me?”

“I didn’t ask,” he snapped, his composure breaking for a moment. “But he made it clear he’ll kill us all if I don’t hand you over.”

“When?”

“Now,” he answered as she heard the roar of engines.

That was why the vehicles had been cleared. She walked over to the window, heart sinking as the Varangian shuttle circled to land. No time to escape. No time even to pack. Damn it. She turned to glare at the man who’d raised her. She didn’t know if he was her real father. He’d always said it didn’t matter. He’d barely known her mother, he claimed, but he knew she was a telepath and he kept Jolie with the hope she would be too. She could pick up thoughts and feelings if they were extreme sometimes, but it was the lesser of her extrasensory talents.

She looked around the hall. The usual ghosts were there but none stepped forward to give her information. They wouldn’t have any about the aliens, of course. They were always there, her whole life. Some took real form and talked to her. They’d been her childhood friends. She knew some that they’d lost over the years. The others were just wisps of air. She got something from them every now and then. A hint of danger. Of warning. But now? Nothing from any of them. They were eerily silent and that made her pause.

Since the Delroi invaded a couple of years ago she’d lived in a state of expectation. Anticipation. She’d thought her life was going to change. Waited for it. Looked forward to it. But everything had just gone on as usual. Maybe this was the change she’d hoped for? She didn’t want to be in charge of a band of smugglers. She wanted a different life. A better life. Were the Varangians any better than her father and his crew?

He’d always said she was his most valuable asset. So why was he giving her away like she was nothing more than chattel? It wasn’t that she wanted to stay. He was a smuggler and a thug who kept her confined to the compound most of the time. She’d never entertained the thought he might love her. Always knew she was just another one of the people he thought he owned. He controlled every aspect of her life. She’d never been allowed to have friends outside the compound, dates, or go to school. He’d brought the best tutors money could buy. Once they’d finished teaching her something they usually left and she never saw them again.

Panic set in when the aliens entered the hall. She might have expected her life to change with the alien invasion, but not like this. She looked for a way out, a direction to run, but her father’s men blocked all the exits. She tried to avoid looking at them but it proved impossible. The leader was easy to spot. She’d glimpsed him from a distance a few times, though her father had always been careful to keep her away from him.

He fascinated her. The first time she saw him she went online and found everything she could about Vikings. There was plenty in Earth’s history but very little about the alien Varangians. They hadn’t denied being connected to Earth’s Vikings but hadn’t confirmed it either. There were no explanations. If she went away with them maybe she’d finally find out. Maybe she’d discover what it was that drew her to one in particular.

Stone swaggered in like he owned the place including everyone inside. Especially her. He wore leather pants and a leather vest that zipped to his sternum. His boots reached his knees and his shoulder blade length hair was pulled back at his nape. He was covered in tattoos, mostly animals, and had a short beard. He bristled with weapons. Blades, guns, and the alien laser stuff.

His eyes blazed hot as they swept over her. Commanding and possessive. Heat spread up her neck to her face in response to the carnal promise in his eyes. She no longer wondered why he wanted her. She ought to be frightened. Yeah she lived with a bunch of criminals and she could hold her own against any of them in a fight, but she had no experience with physical intimacy. Her father would have killed any man who dared touch her. Had in fact. Once had been all it took for his men to recognize that particular line in the sand. She felt a pang of wistfulness for the boy her father had killed. He’d been new to their group. Young and idealistic and not yet hardened by years of rough living. He’d died for one sweet, stolen kiss.

There’d been another death that night too, Marie, her best friend Verity’s mother. That had been a bigger blow. Verity and her little girl were outside the compound for a few days. Jolie wouldn’t get to say good bye. That regret mingled with anxiety and expectation. She was being given to Stone to settle a debt. She should hate that, but a part of her knew this was the escape she’d been waiting for.

Her father rose and walked over to join her. For a moment she thought he might reach out for her, maybe had changed his mind. One look at his eyes disabused her of that notion. There was a bitterness she’d never seen before. His voice was heavy with it when he spoke.

“Well, you’re getting what you wanted from the beginning. We square now?”

Stone spared a glance at her before turning an angry glare on her father.

“I’m simply taking back what you stole. You should have given her to me when I asked the first time. Then this wouldn’t be necessary. I could have just stolen her. At least this way you know her fate.”

Her father snorted. “Being a Viking’s whore?”

Whatever else he might have said was cut off as Stone grabbed him by the throat.

“Watch how you speak about my mate, Earthling. It is only for her sake I am leaving you alive,” he snarled.

Jolie started to edge away but that furious gaze swung her way, though it was tinged with amusement. “Thinking of running, darlin’? Go ahead. I’ll only chase you down.”

She froze, a different kind of nervousness tightening deep in her core. Blushing, she looked away, anywhere but at him. A dozen of her father’s men were ranged around the room, still and tense. The Viking’s were spread out behind Stone. There wasn’t a sign of any nerves in them. Oh no, they were calm. Confident and cocky. If they expected any trouble they obviously weren’t worried about it. And damned if she didn’t think that chase might be fun. Stone released her father abruptly, shoving him away and turning his back on him to face her.

“He explained nothing to you?” he asked softly.

“He said he owes you money and you’re taking me as payment.”

Even as she spoke the words she didn’t quite believe it. He nodded.

“Yes, but you are no whore. I’ll explain everything when we’re on the Hammer.”

“The what?”

He grinned. “Thor’s Hammer. My ship.”

Her fascination with him grew. She fought the urge to return his smile, but she still had no idea what fate had in store for her so she held back.

“Where are your bags?” he asked, looking around to large room.

She shook her head. “There was no time to pack.”

He glared at her father again, then held his hand out to her. “There is now. Come.”

She should refuse but it wasn’t the way she operated. She’d always found it easier to quietly agree and then work behind the scenes. What choice did she have? Reluctantly she extended her arm. Felt a jolt when he twined his fingers with hers. What the hell was that about? He stepped close, crowding her. Gently, he stroked the fingers of his free hand down the side of her face. His gaze burned as he held hers.

“Where is your room, darlin’?”

Damn. That old expression about going weak in the knees? Totally true.

“Across the parking lot,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear an invitation in her breathy response.

“Lead the way,” he said.

He stayed at her side on the short walk, his men hanging back. They stayed outside while she entered with Stone. In her apartment she looked around in dismay. A lifetime of memories. Surely she couldn’t take it all. The main room was a combination kitchen, eating area, and living room. She ignored it and went through to her bedroom. She didn’t know where to start.

“What can I bring?” she asked.

He cocked his head to one side. “Are you always so agreeable?”

The question surprised and confused her. “Would fighting this change anything? You expect me to do it anyway?”

He shrugged one shoulder. She wondered if her reply disappointed him. “I don’t expect a doormat.”

His words made her cringe. As far as her father was concerned, he was always in charge. Her influence had been subtle. It was better for everyone if he thought he was in control and what power she had came from him. She didn’t particularly want to run a smuggler’s band, but she’d been raised to do it. Always expected it would be hers when her father was gone.

“I guess you chose the wrong woman then,” she said bitterly.

“Or maybe you just haven’t come into your own yet,” he said softly.

She had no idea what to make of that response. She would have pursued it but he stepped towards her and cupped her face in his hands. He held her gaze, serious, almost solemn.

“You are my mate, Jolie, not a possession.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a cocky grin. “Though I will admit to being a possessive man.”

She caught her breath at the implication, too aware of the bed just a couple of feet away. He just kept on surprising her. His expression sobered again, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

“How sheltered have you been, baby? Are you a virgin?”

Embarrassment flooded her at the bold question. She felt heat on her face, knew she was blushing furiously, and looked down. Using two fingers under her chin, he made her look up.

“That’s a yes?”

Her voice gone, she could only nod. A weird combination of fear and anticipation surged through her veins and she couldn’t help glancing at the bed. He groaned and shook his head.

“Not here. I will not rush and I’d rather have you at home, in our own bed.”

Oh god. The heat in his eyes. The promise in his voice. Where was her sense of self preservation now? Gone in a flood of desire, as unusual for her as it was intoxicating.

“Okay,” she answered, turning to the closet, suddenly eager to be doing something. Anything to distract her from the ache between her thighs.

She reached up to the top shelf and grabbed a bag, then began pulling clothes out and tossing them on the bed. She didn’t have a lot. A few pairs of jeans and leather pants, several tops. She grabbed her spare boots and shut the door. When she turned back, Stone had already folded most of her belongings and placed them inside. He added the boots as she turned to her dresser, but she paused before opening a drawer. It seemed silly under the circumstances, but she didn’t want him to peer into her underwear drawer. Ridiculous since he’d made it clear he’d be seeing it and more later.

“I’m almost done. Can you wait in the other room?”

Couldn’t hurt to ask, right? He’d been pretty easy going so far. But apparently that ended now. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“Something to hide, darlin’?”

“No,” she snapped. “Some things are private, though.”

He shook his head. “Not between us.”

He reached around her and opened the drawer, smiling when he lifted the first garment a pair of sexy red, satin and lace, panties. She snatched them from his fingers, put them in the bag, and hurried to do the same with the rest. Next came her night clothes, shorts and tanks mostly, and socks. When she was done she zipped the duffle and straightened to face him.

“I’m ready.”

“Not quite yet, baby. I went through a great deal of effort to get you. I won’t claim you in this place, but I want a taste at least before we leave.”

He swept her up in his arms before it even occurred to her to try to get away. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s just a kiss.”

But she panicked. She didn’t even know how to do that properly. Her heart raced, her lungs worked overtime to get in oxygen. He held her close with one arm and used his other hand to brush the hair off of her face then cupped her cheek. She was mortified by the understanding she saw in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut. Held her breath when he kissed each lightly before murmuring against her lips.

“Shh, baby. You just need a little practice. We’ll start slow.”

Part of her wanted to go fast. Just get all these firsts over with. He didn’t let her. His mouth brushed hers. Once. Twice. Then she felt his tongue stroking the seam between her lips. She gasped but he didn’t push inside. He leaned back just enough to trace her lips with his thumb. So soft. So gentle. Her breath hitched when he gripped her chin and stared at her mouth. This time when he leaned close, he didn’t hold back. His tongue moved between her lips, in and out, in a slow maddening imitation of how his cock would invade her body later. He was in total control. Demanding. His tender grip on her chin was commanding and possessive. She’d never imagined she’d have a submissive streak if given the choice, but damned if she wasn’t melting into him now. She moaned when he broke away, reached up to his shoulders to pull him back down, but he shook his head.

“Anymore of that and we won’t be going anywhere for awhile, baby. I want you some place I know is safe.”

He slung her duffle bag over his shoulder, took her hand, and escorted her out.

2

Their departure was uneventful, thank the gods. He’d half expected her miserable excuse of father to try to prevent Stone from taking her. It was not until they stepped off the shuttle onboard his ship that he released a sigh of relief, however. He gave the order to set underway to Archer, his second in command, and took Jolie to his quarters. He probably should introduce her to his people, her grandmother and his sister at least. He should explain everything to her, but he couldn’t do it until he made sure she was his in every way. That there was no way anyone could try to take her from him. The idea of such a thing was ludicrous but he couldn’t help the impulse and didn’t try to fight it.

Like their cousins on Delroi, the Varangians mated only once, for life. A warrior always knew his mate when he saw her. The connection was undeniable. The emotions were fierce and nearly overwhelming, requiring only the ritual prayer to forge an unbreakable mental bond. Words he intended to speak the moment the door to his private quarters secured them inside. Well, he’d try to explain first maybe. She was frightened enough. He didn’t want to make it worse. He paused outside the door only long enough to program the access plate to her palm print, then ushered her inside. She’d been quiet on the journey from the surface and her eyes widened as she entered her new home.

“Not what you were expecting?”

“I feel like I just walked on the set of a historical movie.”

He arched an eyebrow, a silent invitation for her to explain. She gestured to him.

“You dress like a Viking. I just expected the interior of a spaceship to be more modern, I guess.”

He looked around and wondered if she was disappointed. Since he lived on the ship this was his home, furnished and decorated as it would be if he lived in one of the colonies. The chairs and sofa were big to accommodate his height and covered with plush, heavy blankets for comfort. The carpet was a thick pile. His weapons hung on one wall and an entertainment and communication unit was on another.

“You don’t like it?”

She smiled, the first she’d given him, and his cock swelled as he imagined taking her into the bedroom.

“It’s fine,” she said, unaware of his thoughts no doubt. “Comfortable.”

“Good. The bedroom is through here.”

She followed him through the door reluctantly, but her steps quickened when she saw the large porthole. He dropped her bag on one of the dressers and joined her.

“More what you expected?”

“There are so many,” she whispered, looking out at the Delroi ships in orbit around her planet.

The Delroi had invaded a couple of years ago searching for mates as their female birthrate had begun to drop. The Varangians were beginning to experience the same problem. Stone had been fortunate to find Jolie, though Clark Hall had tried damned hard to keep her from him. Now nothing would be able to separate them. She turned to look at him and her eyes widened. He took her hand, tugged her to the bed.

“Come sit down. Let me explain a couple things.”

She snorted. “Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know the particulars.”

He laughed. “We’ll get to that, baby, but I need to explain something else first. I don’t want you to be frightened when it happens.”

She frowned, clearly uncertain, but she sat down and tilted her head to one side as she watched him. “Okay. What is it?”

Suddenly, he was the nervous one. She couldn’t reject the bond, but he’d heard some Earthling women had had problems adjusting to their new reality. Only one way to find out.

“Do you know why the Delroi invaded Earth?”

“Resources, I assume.”

“Yes. One in particular. Earth’s women make compatible mates.”

“Compatible how? And what does that have to do with you?” she asked with a hint of suspicion.

He wanted to kiss that look off her face. Wanted to skip this conversation entirely and kiss several other places too.

“The Varangians are from Delroi. We’re the same genetically. Cousins you could say. And like them we have the ability to create a mental bond with a woman. The woman meant to be our mate.”

For a moment she looked stunned, then she laughed.

“You’re kidding right?”

He shook his head. “I’m dead serious, darlin’.”

“So you’re saying I’m your mate.”

“Yes you are.”

“Wow. I… just don’t even know what to say.”

She watched him with stunned eyes. He had no idea what she was thinking but he knew how to change that. Once they were bonded he’d always know what she was feeling. She wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him. When he opened his mouth, the words of the prayer ready to spill out, she jumped up and paced away from him, one hand held out in front of her.

“Wait. Please.”

Her frantic, fearful tone stopped him cold. Stabbed at his heart and his honor. He would never hurt her, but he needed to claim her irrevocably and he had no idea how to explain that driving need to her. The absolute craving to claim her heart and soul.

“This is our way, Jolie. Mates are connected to each other in a way that defies explanation,” he said gently. “Everything will be fine.”

She shook her head. “You already took me from my home. You plan to take my virginity. I accept that.” She flashed him a quick grin. “I’m even looking forward to it. But this is something different. Can’t you at least give me a few days to adjust to it before adding something else? It’s not like I can escape.”

It went against every instinct he had but he found himself unable to deny her request. He wanted him to come to him willing. To need him as much as he needed her. Since he wasn’t planning on leaving his quarters any time soon, he could indulge her. Maybe that would be better. He’d seduce her body so thoroughly she wouldn’t be able to imagine life without him. Claim her pleasure and her heart and soul would follow. He nodded.

“I’ll give you a couple of days.”

She exhaled gustily, the relief on her face plain to see. “Thank you.”

He could imagine better things for her to thank him for. “Come here, Jolie.”

*

His tone made her shiver. Low and seductive, there was no missing the command in it. An order her body was all too ready to follow. Why was she so eager to jump into bed with a complete stranger? Maybe there was something to that mate business after all. She had to admit she’d been draw to him from glance. Once the incredulity of her situation had worn off it had felt right.

“Jolie.”

An edge of warning this time, but if he meant to scare her he failed. There was too much heat in his eyes and she could feel his desire now. It ratcheted up her arousal. She caught her breath as images filled her mind. Her tied to the bed, Stone moving over her. Thrusting into her. They were gone as quickly as they’d come.

“You’re a telepath?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, but many bonded mates develop a telepathic connection especially if one of them is. Or if one of both of them are a sensitive.” He paused. “What did you hear?”

“Saw,” she whispered, heat flooding her face.

His smile was slow and sexy. He crooked his finger at her. “Come over here and tell me what you saw, baby.”

She couldn’t resist. It only took a few steps to reach him. He set his hands on her hips, toying with the edge of her shirt.

“Well?” he prodded when she didn’t speak.

She glanced at the bed, at the big posts of the headboard. “You had me tied to the bed.”

“And what was I doing with such a gift of trust?”

His hands slid under her shirt, fingers spread as he stroked her skin. She held her breath waiting for him to move up. She wanted to feel that smooth glide over her breasts. Wanted to feel his fingers on her nipples. He leaned close and nipped her just under her ear. She moaned, liking the hint of pain.

“Baby? You haven’t told me what I was doing? Was it this?” he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses down her throat.

“No. You were fucking me.”

He lifted his head, eyes narrowed on her face. He lowered his hands and gripped the edges of her shirt. Somehow she’d made him angry. She refused to cringe but the instinct was there. He saw it too. She forced herself to hold his gaze. She wasn’t sure what kind of man he was, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her. If he was serious about being mates he had to accept her on equal footing. No, she had to insist on having it. His expression softened and she was sure she saw approval in his eyes.

“What did I say that made you angry?”

Instead of answering he unzipped his vest and shrugged out of it. Then he pulled her shirt over her head. He let it fall to the floor and stared down at her body. Her nipples hardened into begging points under his hooded gaze. He reached out and brushed his thumb over one. Soft. Gentle. Nothing like what she needed.

As if he read her mind he asked, “How do you touch yourself, baby? What do you like?”

“Harder. I don’t want you to be gentle. I’m not fragile.”

A strange look crossed his face, almost like regret. “No,” he whispered. “You aren’t fragile.”

He turned her and nudged her towards the bed.

“But you do deserve gentle, baby, especially your first time. Let me give it to you.”

Nerves assailed her. She wanted him bad, but she was afraid one of them was going to end up disappointed by her lack of experience. He shook his head.

“Trust me, baby, no one is going to be disappointed.”

It was getting eerie, how easily he guessed what she was thinking. “You sure you’re not a telepath.”

He grinned. “You’re my mate. Prayer or not, the bond is beginning to weave together.”

She didn’t like the sound of that and he didn’t give her the chance to think about it. It only took him seconds to strip and get her out of her jeans and boots. He left her in her bra and panties when he stretched out over her on the bed. The room was dim so she didn’t get much of a chance to look at his body, but she felt every marvelous muscled inch of it. His cock was hard, long and thick, pressed against her belly. She wanted to touch him, wrap her fingers around him, but he caught her hands and held them in his when she tried to reach for him.

“Did it scare you, seeing my fantasy of restraining you?”

Hell no. It should have, probably would have if it had been anyone else. She shook her head. “No. It...excited me.”

He growled something that sounded like approval and reached up to the headboard. She twisted to watch him push a hidden button, stared as panels opened on the posts. He reached inside the first and pulled out a coiled length of leather. It had a fur padded handcuff on the end. He picked up her left wrist, lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her racing pulse.

“Trust me?”

She couldn’t find her voice so she nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded.

She took a shaky breath. Two. “I trust you,” she finally managed to say, barely more than a whisper but firm enough to convince him.

He wrapped the cuff around her wrist and fastened it, then moved to the other one. He set back on heels to look her over. This time there was no mistaking the approval in his eyes. She felt it when his heated gaze stroked over her body. He fingered the edge of her bra.

“So feminine,” he murmured. “Pretty.”

She was glad she’d picked the pale pink lace set when she got out of the shower that morning. She felt sexy when he looked at her, no longer so worried about her inexperience. He leaned down and licked her nipple through the lace, then closed his mouth over it and sucked. It felt so go she bowed her back, trying to get closer. He nipped her, but if it was meant to punishment it backfired.

“You like that, darlin’? Pain mixed with pleasure?”

She jerked a nod. “I told you I’m not fragile.”

“Hmm. I know you’re not. You couldn’t be and be mine, and you are definitely mine.”

“Take me then,” she dared, tired of this long drawn out tease.

His responding grin was cocky. “You’re not ready.”

She tried to glare but he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and spread the lace to expose her. The only word she could find to describe his expression was hungry. She got another look in his mind, felt his greed, and knew he intended to pleasure her until she screamed in ecstasy. She whimpered. His head snapped up.

“Baby? You still with me?”

She nodded. “I keep getting glimpses into your mind.”

“Something scared you?”

She bit the corner of her lip. She was a little scared of his intensity but she didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“I’m okay.”

He leaned up to cup her face, wedging his hips between her thighs. His cock rubbed over her lace covered pussy and she knew he could feel the wetness there. The sensation was incredible. She wanted more and was pretty sure she shared the thought with him. He groaned, kissed her hard and fast.

“You have to talk to me, mate. I need to know if you’re frightened or hurting.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. It’s just you’re so intense. I worry that I can’t keep up.”

He stared at her a moment before smiling with a slight shake of his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.”

Before she could figure out a response to that he started moving down her body with a trail of biting kisses. He paused at her breasts, swirled his tongue around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. It was divine but he stopped too soon. With a final flick of his tongue he continued his path down her body. When he stopped between her thighs, palms pushing them wide, she held her breath. Oh god. Was this really happening or was it some kind of crazy dream? He turned his head and nipped her hard enough that she yelped.

“Stop think so much, baby.”

He didn’t bother removing her panties, just slipped his fingers under the sides and ripped. Lace fluttered free. And then he licked her. His tongue slid through her folds to find her entrance. Thrust inside once, twice, before slipping up to her clitoris. He stroked her until she was swollen, throbbing. Pleasure consumed her but it wasn’t enough. It would never be nearly enough. She squirmed against him, trying to get closer to his marvelous tongue. She wanted to come. Was desperate for it, but he kept her just on the edge of that bliss until she begged.

“Stone! Let me come. Please!”

Her pleas became frantic. Perhaps he took pity on her. He thrust two fingers inside her pussy and twisted his hand so the rubbed across her G-spot. She exploded. Her orgasm shot through her body in exquisite electric sparks. She trembled with the strength of it, sucked in great gulps of breath until the spinning began to stop.

3

Stone crawled up her body and braced his forearms on either side of her head, staring down into her dazed eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Stunning and his. His cock throbbed with the need to finalize that claim. The words of the binding prayer circled in his mind but he somehow managed to hold them back. She needed time to adjust to her new reality and he’d give it to her even if it killed him.

“Are you ready, mate?”

The haze cleared from her eyes and she tugged on her restraints. “I want to touch you.”

He shook his head, the denial immediate. “Not this time, baby. If you touch me I’ll lose control.”

Her lips curved into the smallest smile. “That would be bad?”

He slid one hand down her torso to squeeze her breast. Couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss her. Biting down hard enough to leave a mark. She arched against him with a soft needy moan and he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to be inside her. The need hooked into him so fiercely he was afraid he might hurt her, but there was no going back now. He held her hip in a grip that would likely leave a bruise but he couldn’t force his fingers to loosen. She smiled at him again.

“It’s okay. I like how you touch me.”

“Reading my mind again, baby?”

She bit the corner of her lip. “Sorry. I can’t seem to help it.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s what mates do.”

She looked uncertain for a moment before her eyes clouded with desire. “Show me what else mates do.”

The order was soft, impossible to resist, and he welcomed the demand from the woman who meant everything to him. He thrust into her hard, to the hilt, and held himself rigidly still when she gasped.

“Just give me a second. I’ll be fine.”

There’d been no barrier to break through. He hadn’t expected one with a modern woman. She may not have had sex but she was confident enough to take care of her own needs. Still, he was a big man. He should have prepared her better.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just an...adjustment.”

She brought her legs up around his hips, hooked her ankles together at the small of his back and nudged.

“Move. Please, Stone.”

She broke off on a moan when he pulled back and slowly stroked back into her pussy. He kept up the slow, tortuous pace until they were both breathing hard. Until she writhed under him, begging for more. Gods, he could get used to this real fucking quick. Her pleasure. Her arousal. Her need. It all amplified his own greedy lust.

His control broke. He took her hard and fast, tilting her hips to make sure every thrust rubbed against the sensitive spot inside her. Holding his orgasm back while he waited for her to go first took strength he didn’t know he had. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she began to tremble. Gritted his teeth when her pussy tightened rhythmically on his cock. Damn that almost felt too good.

Good enough to make him chase his own release. He pounded into her. Hard, fast, rough. His orgasm swept over him like a storm. The pleasure intense and whipping through him. He came inside her in a hot rush, trembling just as fiercely as she had. After a minute he realized he was crushing her, but it was still nearly impossible to let go.

Reluctantly, he rolled to the side then reached up to unfasten the cuffs. He brushed his thumbs over her wrists to make sure her circulation hadn’t been compromised though he could see she was fine. She shivered. He reached for the rug folded across the bottom of the bed, pulled her under his shoulder, and covered them both. She fingered the thick white fur.

“Is this real?”

“No.”

“Good.” She fell silent. It made him nervous. “You said something to my father about taking back what he’d stolen. What did you mean by that?”

She tipped her head back to look at him and lifted her hands to rest on his chest. Her fingers shaped him. Traced the outline of the large wolf tattooed on his chest. He wondered if she was reading him, expecting him to hold something back from her.

“Thirty years ago a Delroi ship was marooned on Earth. There were two survivors. One of them was your father.”

“Clark Hall isn’t my father?”

She didn’t react. As if it wasn’t the first time such a thing had been suggested to her.

“You knew?”

She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath before lifting her gaze again. “Let’s just say I’m not surprised. Who is he? And who is my mother?”

“His name was Blade Davich. He was the Overchief’s master at arms.”

“Overchief?”

“The Delroi are organized into three castes. Warrior, healer, and artist. Each has an overchief. Daggar Torfa is the current warrior overchief. Blade was his father’s man.”

*

Holding the blanket across her chest, Jolie sat up and rubbed her temples. She’d pace but she was suddenly aware she was naked. She’d just had mind blowing sex with a Viking. And oh yeah, she was an alien. Or a half alien at least.

“What happened to my parents?

He tried to tug her back down but she resisted. She snapped her bra, sat on the edge of the bed, and reached for her clothes, shivering when he ran his fingertips down her spine as if calling her back to him. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to give him a reassuring smile but was pretty sure she failed miserably when he sat up and helped her pull her shirt over her head. She stood and tugged her jeans up. He sat, unembarrassed by his nakedness, and pulled her between his legs.

“I know this is a shock, Jolie. I would spare you any pain if I could.”

She didn’t doubt his sincerity, but she had to know the rest. She put her hands on his shoulders and shifted closer. “I know you would. I need to hear what happened.”

“I’ll tell you while I cook. We skipped lunch.”

Now she was even more intrigued. The alien smuggler cooked? It seemed out of character. She’d half expected him to have servants. She stepped back so he could stand and pull on his pants. Wasn’t sure if she was pleased or dismayed that he didn’t bother with his vest. He was too distracting. All those glorious rippling muscles. She followed him into the kitchen and set at the table while he poured her a glass of blue liquid.

“Gazzi,” he answered when she lifted her eyebrows in question. “A wine from Delroi.”

It was sweet and light and she experienced a sharp burst of anger. She should know this. She should know Delroi and her parents.

“What would you like to eat? If I don’t have it here I can send to the canteen.”

Her stomach rebelled at the idea of food. “Later. I couldn’t keep anything down right now. Tell me what you know.”

He sat down across from her, gaze steady on hers as he began to speak.

“I wish I knew more, baby, and I’m going to give you another shock now. I’m sorry. Your grandparents are on board. That’s why I came looking for you. When the Delroi invaded Earth, the other survivor’s son contacted them. Our warriors went to where he and Blade hid the ship. At some point, Blade returned and left a message for his parents. I don’t know what it said other than his mate’s name and that they had a daughter. I’m surprised Talon isn’t beating down the door actually.”

She stared at him now, completely spun. Only a handful of hours and her everything had changed. Her whole life. She gulped the rest of her wine and stood.

“I want to see them.”

His nod was reluctant though he didn’t argue. Before they reached the door someone knocked on it, but the woman who walked in couldn’t be her grandmother. She was probably Jolie’s age.

“What are doing here, Gypsy?”

He sounded more exasperated than angry. Jolie was bemused. The name fit the woman, whoever she was. She was dressed like her name in a bright loose flowing skirt and leather vest, weapons sheathed on her hips.

“I came to meet my sister-kin, of course. Oh yes and to deliver a message from Talon. I am not sure you want Jolie to hear it,” she said dryly. “She seems rather attached to you.”

That’s when she realized she was clinging to his hand.

“Give me the sanitized version.”

“Your presence—both of you—is required for the next meal. Or sooner. There was something about cutting out your heart if she isn’t in perfect health when they meet her,” she said but Jolie lost interest when the men hovering in the corridor behind her nudged her inside and followed.

He was tall, good looking, and she’d guess human. That wasn’t what made her stare. A ghost stood at his side that looked just like him. An identical twin maybe? It was the strangest thing she’d ever seen.

“What?” Gypsy asked. “What do you see?”

She stared at the other woman a moment unsure what to say. Most people didn’t believe in ghosts much less people who saw and spoke to them. She turned back to the man and spirit.

“Did you have a twin?”

He looked at Gypsy who shook her head. “You don’t.”

The ghost stepped forward. “You can see me?” it asked telepathically.

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

“I don’t understand. How can you be a ghost and standing right there?”

He shook his head. “I’m the part of Zane’s soul they ripped away and tried to kill. We’re stronger than they gave us credit for.”

Damn. There had to be one hell of a story there but the living people in the room were all staring at her waiting for answers.

“Weird,” she muttered. “I see ghosts, sometimes speak to them. He says he’s part of Zane’s soul though. A part someone tried to destroy.”

She expected disbelief but could only read relief on Gypsy and Zane’s faces. He turned to the Varangian woman. “Can you fix this?”

She blew out a breath. “We’ll figure out a way. Maybe Jolie can help us.”

Zane’s spirit spoke to her again. “There are traps all over my mind concealing the shielding they put in. Once it’s removed my soul can be reconnected.”

She relayed the message and Gypsy gave her an assessing look. “You’re obviously a telepath. If he can show you where the traps are that will make things much easier.”

Zane’s spirit agreed with Gypsy’s assessment. “It will require a very subtle touch though.”

She sighed. “My telepathy is weak. I think you’re better off with someone else.”

Gypsy frowned. “Are you sure?” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m Gypsy. Stone’s sister.”

“Stone’s annoying little sister,” he added with an indulgent grin.

Jolie ignored him and accepted Gypsy’s hand. A jolt of electricity ran up her arm and she jerked back. She’d be suspicious if the other woman didn’t also look so stunned. Her gaze moved to Stone.

“I think you should move up that meeting with your family.”

“Why?” Jolie asked, rubbing her forearm which still throbbed with remembered power.

“There’s a block on your telepathy. I can only imagine it’s been there your whole life,” she said sorrowfully.

“Why?” Jolie whispered though she could guess. One of her parent’s had put it there, knowing they were going to die. They’d done it to protect her.

“I think you know.”

She nodded. She couldn’t deny it. She let Stone pull her into his arms for a moment. Just enough time to borrow some of his strength. There would be time to grieve what she’d lost as an infant later. Nodding, she freed herself.

“I think it’s time I met my grandparents.”

4

She hesitated at the door. Was she really prepared for this? It was so damned surreal. Every childhood fantasy come to life. Clark Hall wasn’t her father. She didn’t belong in that smuggler’s camp. She was afraid she’d open her eyes to discover it was all a dream. Stone squeezed her hand.

“I’m right here with you, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Funny how reassuring that was. How quickly she’d come to trust him. She gave the okay and he knocked on the door. It slid open in seconds and she faced a massive Delroi warrior. He was as severe looking as all the others she’d encountered. Scary and intimidating. She edged closer to Stone. When he wrapped his arm around her shoulder she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t alone. Somehow she knew she’d never be alone again. The warrior they faced didn’t seem pleased by her protector, however.

“Granddaughter. Please come in,” he said, stepping back for them to enter. “I suppose the wolf can join you.”

At her side Stone snarled. “She’s my mate, Talon. Do not think to interfere.”

“That remains to be seen. There is no bond,” a woman said from inside the apartment.

Jolie gripped Stone’s wrist and stepped in front of him before he could protest. She looked over her shoulder with a warning look.

“Let me handle this.”

She could see he wanted to argue but he held his tongue. They went inside and the door closed softly behind them.

“The wolf?” she asked, trying for a teasing tone with Stone.

“My name. Stone Ulfson.”

She nodded. “Wolf’s son,” she murmured. It fit the tattoo stretched across his chest.

She’d drawn out that small distraction as far as possible. She looked over to the people who claimed to be her grandparents. She saw nothing in the man that made her believe, but the woman…Jolie saw herself in her. The same facial shape, same height, same hair and eyes. And the power of her mind. There was no doubt this was her grandmother. She stepped forward to meet them. Stone stayed close to her side. She was grateful for his support and strength but ultimately she had to face this on her own. He squeezed her hand. Forced her to look up at him.

“Together, baby. Always.”

He was reading her now. Extraordinary.

“Interesting,” her grandmother said softly. “You aren’t bonded yet, but it’s forming. That requires a telepath and I know Stone isn’t one.”

Jolie turned to look at her. “Was my father?”

She looked sad at the mention of Blade. “No, sweetheart. But I am and sometimes it skips generations.”

Stone stepped forward, pulling her with him. “Introductions should be first, I think. This is Jolie. Jolie, this is Talon and Ana Davich. Blade’s parents.”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the woman. Her grandmother. It was like seeing herself in forty or fifty years. She was still slim and beautiful, but her face was lined, a testament to the years well lived. She wore loose almost sheer pants that clung to her hips and a sleeveless top cropped at her belly button. Her feet were bare as if she’d just slipped out of her shoes for a relaxing night at home with her husband. She looked regal and left Jolie in awe. She was related to this woman? Amazing. Smiling, Ana stepped forward with her hands extended.

“We’ve waited so long to meet you, Jolie. Welcome to the family.”

Then Talon stepped up and his cold mask slipped. She’d never seen such a big man look so close to tears. “We thought we’d lost Blade forever. Then we found you.”

She didn’t resist when they embraced her. How could she? She felt their sorrow and their joy. They’d lost a son but gained a grandchild and they were thrilled to have that reminder of him. It was humbling. She couldn’t possibly live up to their expectations. Ana pulled back abruptly and cupped her face.

“No, sweetheart, no. We don’t expect anything from you. We’re just so happy to meet you. So happy to have you in our lives. We wish you’d known your father. He was a wonderful man. An honorable warrior.”

Jolie had a lump in her throat. Their complete open acceptance was unexpected. She wasn’t sure what to do with it. How to feel about it. Stone moved up behind her, circled her waist with his arms and nuzzled her nape. She didn’t miss the look on her grandfather’s face. He wasn’t pleased but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She looked him straight in the eye and opened her senses as much as she could. But she couldn’t get anything other than protectiveness. Maybe. She looked to her grandmother and met her smirk. She knew what Jolie had tried. She’d ask her about the block later but she wanted other answers first.

“What happened to my parents? Stone said you know some of it at least.”

Talon sighed. “Blade went as the security head as a favor to the Overchief on an exploratory mission. There were several planets on the list so when they disappeared we had no idea where they were or if any of the crew or warriors survived. We’ve only known a few months that Blade and Dax Trace lived. They hid the ship, but at some point Blade went back to leave us a message. I can show it to you if you like.”

The chance to see her father? No way in hell she’d miss that. “Yes. Please. I want to see it.”

“I could prove upsetting,” he warned, gaze flicking to Stone. He just held her tight, not responding to her grandfather. She knew he’d stand with her.

“Show me,” she demanded. Talon nodded approvingly.

“Of course, granddaughter.”

And damn wasn’t that weird? She’d gone from no family, no idea who she really was to insta-family. It would take some getting used to. Talon walked to the adjacent wall and waved a hand to activate a digital touch screen. A moment later the wall turned opaque. Then a vid feed loaded.  A man’s face filled the screen and she moved closer, her heart catching in her throat. She’d never met him before, never seen him, but she swore she knew him.

“My father,” she whispered into Stone’s mind, glad he’d stayed close. Then someone pressed play.

“My name is General Blade Davich of the Delroi warrior caste. My ship crash landed on this planet four years ago. There was one other survivor. We hid the ship and went our separate ways.” He paused. “We agreed not to come back here. The systems are beyond repair and we can’t send any messages, but I can save one. I have found my der’lan on this planet. I figure it won’t be long before the Delroi discover it. When you do, if I don’t meet you, I want my father to find my daughter. I’m going after her but he’s already my Leila and stolen our Briar.”

He looked down a moment, then up back up, grinning at the screen. “You would have loved Leila, mother. She was as fierce as you. She named our daughter Briar. It’s from an Earth fairy tale. Seems a good fit with Blade and Talon, right?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll let you draw your own conclusions, but Leila insisted no man less than a prince would be worthy of our girl. I can’t argue with that.”

He sobered quickly though, as he continued his journal.

“Leila was fleeing her husband when I met her. She was beaten and half starved. I’ve never wanted to kill a man so badly in my life, but she had to be taken care of first. I had to make sure she was hidden and safe, and then Briar was born. I wasn’t as careful as I thought,” he said bitterly. “He found us. I wasn’t home. He killed my Leila and stole our Briar. I’m going after her.”

He leaned close to the screen. “Father. You’ll see this video, I’m guessing in the next few years. If I don’t find you, find my girl. She’ll probably be with a smuggler named Clark Hall, Leila’s former husband. If I can’t pull it off, save my daughter. I’d get Dax to back me up, but I have no idea where he is. So I leave it in your hands. Find her and take her home to Delroi, Father.”

He didn’t bother with a farewell. The vid just went black. Jolie stood there, feeling bereft. Everything had been taken from her. Her parents. Her childhood. Her home world. She yanked out of Stone’s arms and paced away. She couldn’t bear to have anyone near while she processed everything. She did the one thing she hadn’t in years. She started to cry. Crying had never got her anywhere. She’d given up on in ages ago. But she found now that she couldn’t stop the tears from streaking silently down her face. She turned back to face them.

“Is there a chance, do you think? That he’s still alive somewhere on Earth?”

Her grandfather shook his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He would never have stopped looking for you and once the Delroi were on planet he would have come forward and got help.”

She knew that. She did. But damn, she wanted a different outcome. She wanted what she couldn’t have. He hugged her and her tears turned to sobs. She just couldn’t help herself. He held her tight and she pretended it was her father’s arms around her. That wasn’t fair to any of them and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Finally she calmed down and pulled away, embarrassed. She met Ana’s gaze.

“I need a minute. Someplace to wash my face maybe?”

The other woman nodded and held out her hand. “Of course. This way.”

She followed her into a spacious bathroom. Jolie was still surprised to see this kind of thing on a spaceship. The technology was incredible. Still it worked the old fashioned way. She turned the knobs on the sink and leaned over to splash water on her face a couple times. When she straightened she met Ana’s eyes in the mirror.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Was your life so bad?” she asked hesitantly.

She wasn’t sure how to answer but she didn’t want to flat out lie. She shrugged. “Some of it was good. No one has a perfect life.”

“We protect our daughters on Delroi,” she said disapprovingly.

“There are men on Earth who do the same. They aren’t all bad.”

She knew plenty of good men. Her father just wasn’t one of them. She was relieved to finally know for sure he wasn’t her father. She was glad to share no DNA with that man.

“Perhaps,” Ana said with a fierce smile. “But you’re ours and our protection is a bit more complete.”

Something about that statement made her angry. She shook her head. “No. If I’m anyone’s it’s Stone’s. He’s mine as much as I’m his. We fit together. I never thought I’d meet someone like him.”

She couldn’t explain why it felt so right and didn’t feel the need to justify her choices to someone she didn’t know, relative or not. Ana met her gaze a long moment then smiled. “So you do have a bit of the Davich temper.”

She hadn’t exhibited much of one before but these aliens were bringing out all kinds of new things in her, weren’t they? She shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose I do. Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”

“No it wouldn’t. We should rejoin the men,” Ana said dryly. “Knowing your grandfather he’s taken a swipe or two at Stone for daring to claim you.”

Jolie studied her grandmother a moment, trying to decide if that was supposed to amuse her or alarm her. She couldn’t decide so she hurried back into the main room. They were glaring at each other but she figured it was a good sign she saw no blood. She slipped under Stone’s arm easily, naturally. Like she’d been doing it for years.

“Gypsy said Jolie has a block on her mind. On her telepathy,” he said to Ana. “Can you remove it?”

“The der’lan bond would break it.”

“I heard that word before. What is it?”

“The Delroi call their mates der’lan. It means mate of my heart,” Stone said.

She wondered if that was why he called her darlin’. They sounded similar and if the sentiment was the same, why not? She liked it, though she wasn’t ready to fully embrace that bond yet.

“Is there another way?” she asked.

Ana nodded, but she looked reluctant. “I could remove the block, but it’s been there since you were an infant. I imagine your mother put it on you when she thought she was going to die. So you have no shields under it. You need to learn that first.”

Stone looked at Ana, who looked as worried as Jolie was. “Would the mate bond protect her or leave her exposed?”

Ana blew out a breath. “I can’t see how it would. If you were a telepath you could shield her, but you aren’t. You’ll have to learn to do it for yourself, Briar.”

“What do I do?” she asked.

Ana gestured and they moved to the couch. It was damned strange to hear herself called another name. She felt like she was being reinvented. It was too much. She needed time to regroup. Time to process. Time she didn’t have. Somehow Stone knew. He stayed close.

“People build their shields different ways. Most imagine layers of walls wrapping around their power. Sometimes you’ll want to use varying depths of it without leaving yourself completely exposed. Do you understand?”

It seemed logical enough.

“Practice for a couple days before removing the block. That means you need to wait to complete the bond,” Ana said regretfully. Talon made a disapproving sound but didn’t say anything.

“We’d already decided to wait until we know each other better,” Stone reassured her softly.

Ana nodded her approval. After a few minutes of more casual conversation, Jolie pleaded fatigue and they left. She could tell the older couple was disappointed she left so soon and was grateful they didn’t voice it. They could have guilt tripped her into staying longer. She doubted Stone would have allowed it, but they could have tried. When they entered his apartment she exhaled harshly, releasing the anxiety she hadn’t been aware she was holding in. She felt brittle. Like she could break into a million pieces with the slightest shove.

*

Stone didn’t know how to help her through all the revelations being thrown at her so he took her in his arms. He’d never felt so helpless. Not that she’d voiced any complaints. Other than her brief cry with her grandparents she seemed remarkably calm and accepting. He knew that couldn’t last. She let him hold her a few minutes then pulled away and began to pace.

“Talk to me, baby.”

She huffed a laugh. “Where the hell should I start?”

He shrugged. “With whatever is bothering you most.”

She stopped and for a moment she looked stricken. “He killed my parents. Why? Why keep me? For my skills? Remorse? He sure as hell never wanted me.”

“Telepathy would be a valuable commodity to a smuggler. He knew your mother was a telepath, so there was a chance you would be too. Killing them was probably a combination of jealousy and revenge.”

“Yeah. I get that. It makes sense. I just can’t believe he lied to me my whole life. Well, I can and somehow that’s worse. What’s going to happen to him? I have friends in that compound, Stone.”

“Clark has probably been arrested by the Delroi by now. Kidnapping one of our females is an unforgiveable offense.”

She snorted. “That’s worse than murder, huh?”

“Worse than the killing of a warrior, yes. One of their women, no.”

“Strange culture,” she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You have that backwards, baby. My people and the Delroi are similar in many ways. We’re all very protective of our women and children. Earthling men could learn a thing or two from us.”

She sat on the couch and gave him a wan smile. “You might be right.” She paused. “Tell me more about this mate business.”

He sat next to her and pulled her into his lap. She fit perfectly. “It’s not business,” he teased. “It’s very, very personal.”

He was glad he hadn’t given into instinct early and said the prayer despite her wishes. The thought of his actions leaving her mind exposed to pain sickened him.

“You need to work on those shields,” he said seriously.

She arched an eyebrow. “You said you’d wait a couple of days.”

He clenched his teeth. Even now, knowing the danger, the instinct to bind them together rode him hard. She tensed, obviously sensing something wrong, and he tightened his arms before she could rise.

“Okay. Spill it.”

She sounded resigned. Disappointed maybe. He pressed a kiss against her throat, struggled for a way to explain.

“The urge to create the bond is very strong, baby. The instinct is ingrained. It’s in our DNA. It’s stronger now that I’ve tasted you, been inside you. It’ll keep getting stronger,” he admitted.

And it was damned hard to fight. He’d always heard it would be, but a few hours ago he’d been arrogant enough to think he could control it. The best thing might be to leave her with Blade and Ana until she got the shielding down, but everything in him protested doing so.

His cock was hard and aching. Every time she rubbed her sweet ass over him he had a new fantasy of how he’d take her the next time. Which was going to be pretty fucking soon. Riding him right where they sat was sounding like a damned fine idea. He shifted her so she straddled him and toyed with the edge of her shirt.

“If I understand you right, we’re playing with fire.”

His fingers slid under top, spread over her abdomen. Her breath hitched. When she met his gaze it wasn’t with protest.

“So being mates is basically an irresistible craving for sex,” she said matter-of-factly, but he also heard disappointment. And he hated hearing her equate them to a purely physical relationship. Fuck no. That wasn’t what he wanted from her. With her.

“It’s so much more, baby. Mates are connected heart and soul. Mates are partners as well as lovers.”

He pushed her shirt up over her breasts and unsnapped the clasp on her bra. It wasn’t enough. He needed her completely available to his hands and mouth.

“Take off your top,” he ordered.

She obeyed with a smile that managed to be both sultry and hesitant. He stroked a finger over her bra before peeling it off.

“I like you in satin and lace but not here. Not when we’re alone.”

She looked a little scandalized. He decided he liked that expression. What else would put it on her face? “You’re telling me I can’t wear a bra and panties?”

“You can when we leave the apartment.” He cupped her breasts, loving the way her breath hitched and she blushed. “Here, you’re all mine and I want total access.”

Her nipples hardened against his palms. She liked his dominance, thank the gods. He wasn’t sure he could hold it in check if she didn’t. He wondered how well she would obey him. He took her hands and moved them to the small of back.

“Don’t move them, baby,” he warned. “I’ll have to punish you if you do.”

Her eyes widened, but he saw trepidation not real fear. “How?” she whispered.

He schooled his expression to one of calm, not the excitement, the anticipation he felt. He moved his hands to her ass and tapped one rounded tempting cheek.

“I’d probably turn you over me knee. You aren’t ready for anything else though I can’t wait to see how you handle a flogger. What do you think, baby? Do you think you’d like that?”

He didn’t look at her face while he waited for her answer. He was too busy opening her pants and shifting her to shove them down. It only took seconds to work his fingers through her wet folds. He slicked his thumb over her clit and stared up at her. She trembled, but she followed his earlier instruction and didn’t move her hands. Gods, his woman was scorching. Incredible.

“You honor me with your trust, baby,” he whispered.

And then she pushed that trust into absolute acceptance. She moved her hands to his shoulders. He held her gaze for a couple of seconds. Felt her mind touch his. In invitation. She wanted to know how it would feel. Knew she’d like at least a little pain. He gripped her chin.

“You tell me the minute it’s too much.”

She nodded. “I’ll tell you to stop.”

He scowled. “No, Jolie. Sometimes we say stop or no when we don’t really mean it. Red means stop on your world right?”

“Yes.”

“Red it is then.”

He set his hands on her hips and stood her up, waving his hand at the pants that hung on her thighs.

“Take them off,” he demanded.

He watching carefully as she did. Her skin was flushed, her eyes almost feverish. He could see her juices slipping down the inside of her thighs and her nipples were hard points he wanted to bite. Later they’d figure out if it was the idea of pain or punishment that turned her on so much. When she stood naked, waiting for instructions, he beckoned to her with one finger. She stepped between his thighs and he gripped her hips, flipping her so she lay across his legs.

“Hands on the floor, Jolie.”

He rubbed one hand over her ass and moved the other between her thighs, thrusting two fingers into her pussy. Gasping at the sudden intrusion, she squeezed her legs together. He grinned, glad she couldn’t see his face. He brought his hand down on one cheek.

“Spread, baby. I want your legs nice and wide.” He thrust a third finger inside her when she complied, wringing a groan from her but she didn’t move.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re mine. Your body is mine.”

He moved his fingers inside her. Slow and easy. She moaned.

“Stone,” she complained.

He slapped the other cheek. “You take what I give you when I give it, Jolie. If you want to stop you know what to say.”

She shook head. “No. Please don’t stop.”

Sweet words from his innocent mate. He had to give her what she wanted, didn’t he? The first two taps had been exploratory, to gauge her reaction. The next few were the punishing slaps he’d promised her. And she responded so beautifully. As he turned her ass red with the palm of his hand, her pussy grew wetter and slicker against his thrusting fingers. He felt the small convulsions begin in her channel but he wasn’t ready for her to come yet. Not until he could see her face. He wrapped her hair up in his hand and titled his head so he could watch her face.

“You want to come, darlin’?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Please, Stone.”

5

His fingers thrust faster and harder. Rough. She came screaming his name and it was perfection. He didn’t wait for her to recover, which was fine with her. She didn’t ever want to come down from this high. He picked her up and maneuvered her onto her knees on the edge of the couch, leaning forward over the back. Then coming up behind her, he thrust into her convulsing pussy and the orgasm started all over again.

Every time she thought it was over he touched her—her nipples, her clit---and the pleasure built all over again. It was the most delicious torture. And she thought she understood when he said being mates wasn’t just about sex. This was so much more. She couldn’t feel this ecstasy with some random stranger or even a long term friend. He touched a place deep inside her she’d never known existed.

He moved faster, hips pistoning so rapidly she couldn’t keep up and had to cling to the back of the couch for support. He brushed her clitoris with his thumb. Circled it then pinched it between two fingers. Pain mingled with bliss and flared through her body. She needed more.

“Stone,” she groaned a complaint when his punishing pace slowed.

“Not yet. I want you as mindless with need as I am,” he grunted.

“I already am.”

It was a promise and a denial in one. She could sense his intent to keep her coming over and over until rapture bound her to him. The notion that it could get better scared the hell out of her. He meant to fuck her as long as he could hold out. Until he owned every part of her. He pulled out abruptly and whirled her around. His eyes were dark and angry.

“This is not me fucking you, mate, believe me you’d know the difference.”

“I don’t have the experience to know the difference,” she whispered, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. It might be sharing too much of herself, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him back inside her. He picked her up, hands urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He pushed inside her again. Steady. Unhurried. Not at all what she wanted.

“You know the difference,” he growled. “You were just thinking it. If I meant to just fuck you, I’d leave you exhausted from pleasure true. But I want more than that. I want all of you. This is a claiming.”

And oh, she felt claimed. Felt him branding himself on her soul. She sensed he wanted her heart too. She wondered what he would say to hear he was already halfway there? Nothing that life changing should happen so soon, so easily. Before fear could take root he took a few steps to press her back against the wall. Then he moved. So fast she couldn’t keep up. Rough enough to make her heart soar. Replacing her mounting panic with something else entirely.

“Come for me again, baby, and know the difference.”

She couldn’t ignore the harsh order if she tried. Her body responded to his every touch, his every word. This time the bliss was so intense she shook and her vision dimmed. Maybe she just closed her eyes. She was aware of being carried. When she opened them again it was to stare into the eyes of the alien who claimed her so thoroughly. She was on the couch and he came to lay down over her. He was heavy but careful to keep from crushing her. He brushed the hair off her face.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She started to nod then shook her head. “I’m overwhelmed, but I’ll be fine.”

She could feel him against her belly, hard again. She gasped when he rolled his hips. The motion was all it took to reignite her arousal.

“How do you do that me?”

He grinned. “We’re mates. It will always be like this between us.”

She fought the urges to laugh and cry. “We won’t survive it.”

The longer they lay pressed skin to skin the more she wanted him. When she shifted to wrap her legs around his hips, however, she couldn’t repress a flinch. The sex had been damned good, but she was sore and he knew it. He stood, lifted her into his arms, and carried her through his room and into the bathroom. He let her stand, held her steady when she swayed, and opened the spigots on the tub. He helped her in then settled in behind her. The water warmed her skin, soothed all the places that ached on her body. He reached for a bar of soap and lathered his hands, using them to gently wash her. She let herself drift, trying to absorb all the changes to her life. The biggest one was in the bath with her, stroking her to comfort not arouse this time.

“What would have happened if my grandparents hadn’t sent you looking for me?”

“I would have found you anyway, darlin’, and soon. I am a smuggler remember? And Clark runs one of the biggest operations on Earth.”

She appreciated that he didn’t refer to man as her father even if she’d accepted it all this time.

“Why are you a smuggler? With your technology surely you don’t need to be.”

He laughed. “Most of the trading I do is completely above board. Smuggling gives me access to information the Delroi and I couldn’t get to otherwise. In this case, someone has been selling Delroi medicine to Clark. He turns around and sells it at an outrageous mark-up in countries that refuse to accept their assistance. The Delroi wanted to know who it was.”

“The shipment he was supposed to sell to you? What happened to it?”

“It’s in my hold.”

He sounded cat in the milk proud of himself. His amusement filled her mind and she suddenly understood why. She craned her neck to look back at him.

“You stole it from Clark and the Delroi? Wouldn’t they have just given it to you? Or sold it to you?”

His grin was unrepentant. “Sometimes the Delroi need a little reminder of what we’re capable of.”

She had no idea what to make of that, but his amusement was contagious. “So you’re going to turn around and sell it to someone else.”

“No, I’m taking it to one of our outposts a couple of days from here. It’s small and not well-established yet. They could use the shipment.”

He was taking her to another planet. She’d stared at the night sky for years wondering what was out there and if she’d ever see it. Maybe it was an urge she’d inherited from her father. Excitement filled her.

“Are you going to deliver it yourself? Can I go?”

“Of course. Where I go, you go, baby.”

She relaxed back against him. “Will you tell me more? More about your people?”

“We have hundreds of colonies and outposts throughout the galaxy. Varangian means traveler in our native language, which is Delroi. The outpost we’re going to is our youngest, established fifty years ago. It’s called Novgorod.”

“That’s an old Viking city on Earth. Were they another colony?”

“Know your history, huh?”

The probing question embarrassed her. She didn’t want to admit her interest in him went beyond their meeting today.

“I saw you when you met my fa—when you met Clark.” She shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “I was curious.”

She’d found a lot on Earth’s Vikings of course, much less on the space version. The gossip rags had plenty to say about the Delroi and Varangian people but she doubted even one word of it was true. The stories ranged from cruelty to Utopias. The all agreed that both species were extremely protective and possessive of their women, however. That much she knew was true.

“I wasn’t sure if you saw me. You must have sensed we belong to each other even then.”

She liked the way he phrased that. It made her feel like they were on equal footing. Partners like he’d suggestion earlier. He stood and reached to help her up.

“Water’s getting cold, and I for one, am hungry. I’ll answer your questions while I make us dinner.”

It was hard to focus on questions when he stood there wet and naked in all his glory. He caught her hand when she reached to touch him, wanting to learn every ridge and scar and tattoo.

“You’re sore. You need more time to recover. And you need to eat.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”

“All the time.”

He dried them both quickly and led the way back into the bedroom. Her duffle set on top of one of two large, wood dressers. He grabbed clothes out of the other one.

“Why don’t you unpack while I start dinner?”

He was dressed and gone in seconds. She opened her bag and checked the drawers, found them all empty. The task was completed in minutes. Not sure where to put her boots and bag, she set them on the floor next to the furniture, and went to find Stone. He was frying something that smelled like steak and a large salad bowl sat on the table. He handed her a glass of wine and told her to sit down. She studied him while she did, then looked around the apartment. It had three rooms, was comforting and cozy but she couldn’t imagine two people living in it without constantly bumping into each other.

“Do you have a home on a planet somewhere? Or on Delroi?”

Shaking his head he set two plates on the table and handed her silverware. “My position doesn’t allow me to stay in one place long.”

That sounded ominous. “What is your position?”

“I’m leader of the Varangians. The one the tribes chose to follow. I’m always moving among them. Making sure everyone is working together. Keeping the peace. Until the warrior-king makes himself known, that’s my job.”

Warrior-king? Things just kept getting stranger and more interesting. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“If my sister is right you’ve already met him. Zane Gray. He’s an Earthling assassin. He was brainwashed to kill his mother and sister, but he fought it the compulsion and he’s been with us a few months. He’s better now but Gypsy hasn’t been able to restore him completely yet.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The steak was excellent. Tender and succulent. There was some kind of spicy pepper in the salad she’d never seen before but loved at first bite. He didn’t speak again until he cleared the dishes. He rinsed them and showed her how to start the automatic dishwasher.

“Go sit, baby. I’ll bring us a drink.”

When he returned he had two glasses filled with a dark amber liquid. She raised her eyebrows as she accepted one. “Beer?”

“Taste it.”

It was smooth with a hint of honey and spice. She’d spent plenty of time behind the bar back home. She knew her beer. “Nice. You should try smuggling this.”

He laughed. “Believe me, we do.”

She loved his laugh. His face relaxed and she could feel his good humor. Could feel his affection. He sobered too quickly.

“My sister will ask you to help Zane sooner rather than later. She’ll tell you it’s vital. It is but I won’t let her pressure you.”

“Why is it so important?” she asked. Her heart went out to the man who’d had half his soul ripped away. She wanted to help him if she could.

“The Delroi call women like my sister mystics. She’s a telepath and a seer. We call her kind witches.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter what you call her. She’s an integral part of our society and represents her conclave. She’s their spokesperson, you’d say. For the last several years, the witches have been having visions of a war. They say it’s going to sweep across the galaxy like a huge rising tide and that the warrior-king is the only one who can help us.”

“Sounds like a story. Like Ragnarok.”

She’d stumbled across the Viking myth in her research. He huffed, sobering in a way she sensed was unusual for him. She saw the weight of caring for his people in his eyes. He took the responsibility seriously. She liked him all the more for it.

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t say that too loud,” he said. “It’s an ancient story our people apparently took to Earth with them centuries ago. Some are whispering of it already. The last thing I need is that kind of panic.”

She couldn’t argue with him. He knew these people; she didn’t.

He ran his fingertips up the outside of her arm. Goosebumps rose in the trail and energy streaked along her veins straight to her clit. God, she was in so much trouble. One innocent touch and she wanted to jump his bones. He stroked her arm again then took her hand, lifted her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss to her skin.

“Do you always let someone else do all the talking?”

*

“Guess I’m not much of a talker.”

She was gorgeous and inquisitive, his mate, but he hadn’t missed how she gave away so little information about herself. He wanted to take her back to bed. Make love to her nice and slow. How would she react if he told her that? He got the feeling she’d retreat. If he bound them together now she wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him, but he couldn’t forget the warning about her lack of shielding. He’d have to draw her out the old fashioned way.

“Tell me about your life. What was your childhood like?”

He was almost afraid to hear the answer to that one. It couldn’t have been good for growing up under Clark Hall’s not so gentle care. He’d seen the way he treated his men. If Stone found out he’d laid a hand on Jolie, he’d demand the Delroi hand him over so he could meet Viking justice. She was his mate. He had that right.

“It wasn’t as bad as you’re imagining,” she said soothingly, lifting a hand to cup the side of his face. One finger, light and gentle, traced the curve of his lips.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“As a child it was lonely. I was the only child inside the compound until I 13. My friend Verity came with mother, Marie, then. Clark brought her in as a whore. She was a recovering drug addict, but she’d been a teacher. No one would hire her so she became one of my tutors.”

Her voice softened when she talked about the woman. Stone would get her out if he could, but he the feeling she was already gone. “What happened to her?”

Jolie sighed and lowered her hand to her lap. “Two of my father’s men decided they couldn’t live without her. Unfortunately, they couldn’t decide which one would give her up. No one ever bothered to ask her. Anyway, they confronted each other one night. She was killed.”

She twisted her hands and he pulled her close. He kissed her temple and stroked her hair, the only thing he could think to comfort her.

“And her daughter?”

“Verity. She’s my age. This happened in the summer. The war with the Alliance was raging back them so there constant power outages. It was so damned hot inside we couldn’t bear it. We were hanging out with the other teenagers and younger members of the crew in the parking lot.”

Something about her tone made him still. What else had happened that night? Outside in that parking lot with people who should have been loyal to her. He brought their hands to his mouth and scraped his teeth over her knuckles.

“Tell me the rest.” The demand was soft but unmistakeable.

For a moment he thought she’d refuse. She trembled in his arms and not in the good way. “It’s my fault she died. There was a guy, not much more than a boy really, a recent edition to the crew. He liked me. I thought he might be a...few minutes of freedom. My—Clark. Thought differently. While Marie was getting killed, my father was murdering Mathew. I so have two deaths on my head from that night.”

He would definitely be contacting the Delroi. He wanted a piece of Clark Hall and he wanted the bastard to suffer for a good long time.

“None of that was your fault, baby. Hall had a responsibility to his people. It’s not your fault he wasn’t man enough to own up to it.”

He could see she didn’t believe him. He’d work on that over time. “What happened to her daughter?”

She smiled, her warmth genuine. “Verity. We’ve always been good friends. She’s still back there. She has a little girl now. They were gone today but if there’s a way to get her out, take her someplace safe...” she said, letting the thought trail off. She sounded so hopeful he couldn’t deny her.

“We’ll go back for them after we drop off the shipment. They’ll be safe here or on one of the colonies if she prefers.”

“Thank you.”

This was not the kind of gratitude he wanted from his mate. It felt more like supplicant to master. Not what he wanted, what he needed, at all.

“You never ask for anything do you? Never let anyone take care of you?”

“Why would I? I can take care of myself. I always have.”

“Even when you were a little girl?”

She gave him a weird look, something he couldn’t decipher. “Especially then.”

If it was possible she broke his heart a little. Tore at his soul. No child should be forced to fend for themselves. He sensed sympathy would be rejected, however. She’d consider it an insult and he saw the steel in her.

“Do you work? How do you spend your time?”

“I work in the bar sometimes. Go with my dad—no, Clark. That is gonna take some getting used to. Anyway, I went with him on deals sometimes, to see if I could read anything. It’s probably good I couldn’t get much,” she murmured. “Once he realized I wouldn’t be much use he pretty much left me alone.”

She’d let him in her mind a little though, and he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“You did more than that, baby. You made friends. Kept his books.”

She titled her head. “You know that? Or I subconsciously shared it?”

“You shared it.” He ran her hands up and down her sides. “Were you going to take over his operation?”

She shrugged. “I could have. I figured I would for most of my life. The Delroi came and I felt...I don’t know. Like I was waiting for something, you know?”

He started to respond but she spoke over him. “Of course you don’t know. Hell, I don’t have a clue what I was expecting.”

He took her face in his hands, forced her to meet his eyes. There could be no doubts about this. “You were waiting for me,” he said.

He claimed her mouth. Sweet, luscious, his. She was all his. She laughed against his lips.

“Arrogant,” she teased.

“When it comes to my woman? Hell yes.”

They were both laughing when he took her to bed.

6

Jolie woke alone, but she was warm and sated and her body ached in all kinds of delicious places. It had been two days since Stone had claimed her. She’d spent most of that time in bed with him or working on shielding with her grandmother. She was sure she’d got the hang of it but Stone was holding back. She figured as soon as her shields were good, he’d do his little prayer thing to bind them together, but he hadn’t. Either he’d changed his mind or he was waiting for her to make up her own mind. And okay, that was fair. Couldn’t blame a man for wanting some kind of sign from the woman he wanted that she shared the feeling, right?

The sex was incredible, but where did it go from there? She needed so much more. She was pretty sure Stone would give it to her if she just took the leap. They’d come to a kind of agreement. She knew how hard it was for him to not complete that link while he waited for her to not only to figure out the shielding but also to choose him. To accept him. He didn’t realize yet she’d done that the day she met him.

But she wouldn’t let anything ruin this day. She was going to actually set foot on an alien planet. She couldn’t freaking wait. When she heard voices from the other room, she rolled out of bed and got dressed, though she would have liked to lounge around a bit more. She hadn’t really met anyone yet, and had a brief spurt of insecurity before Stone filled her mind.

The apartment was packed when she walked out. Something was definitely wrong. She was uncomfortable when she walked through. Most of the inhabitants were male and huge. The women were sultry and she felt their power. It was unlike any social situation she’d ever found herself in, but when she approached, Stone held his arm open for her to slip under while he continued to speak to his men.

“Jolie this is Archer, my second in command. We’re coming up to Novgorod. There appears to be a problem.”

She may still have a block on her abilities but she could access enough to know that was a serious understatement.

“What happened?” she asked as Gypsy joined them.

“We don’t know yet. They aren’t answering our calls and we aren’t picking up anything on our sensors,” Stone said.

“But you know something’s wrong?”

She could feel it now. A heavy sense of sorrow and loss but nothing had happened on the ship. Maybe it was just their expectations. Their fears. She wasn’t as excited about seeing this new planet now.

“They aren’t answering our hails,” Stone said. “We just reached orbit. The first shuttle will leave in a few minutes.”

There was an unspoken question in his eyes she thought. Maybe. It was damned frustrating. If they were bonded, she’d know what he wanted from her now. He was the leader of his people. His woman had to be strong too. She straightened her shoulders and looked up into his gaze.

“Where you go, I go. That was the promise, right?” she asked softly.

She’d said the right thing. He crushed her close. His men looked at her with respect. The women were led by Gypsy and she knew above all else, Gypsy needed her.

“Let’s head to the shuttle then,” Stone said.

An hour later she stepped off the shuttle ramp and wished she’d stayed where the hell she was. They landed a couple miles from the small town, but she didn’t need the distance to know there’d been a massacre here. As soon as her feet hit the dirt the ghosts swarmed. Dozens of them. Angry and fearful and panicked and sorrowful. They were all talking at once. Screaming at her. She pulled her arms up over her head and backed up.

“Wait. Wait. Just shut the hell up for a minute!” she finally yelled.

Unfortunately she now had the undivided attention of everyone alive and dead in the area. Most of the living had no idea she talked to ghosts though, so they were looking at her like she was a madwoman. Stone and Gypsy closed ranks, however.

“What are they saying?” Stone asked.

She snorted. “Too damned much and most of it petty shit that does you no good. Let me try something.”

Even with petty spirits and old feuds distracting her, the horror of what had happened here made her furious. She sent out a telepathic request for information on the attackers and tuned out everything else. In seconds she had a group of hazy warriors before her. Nothing she did could keep them from talking over each other, unfortunately. She let them talk and absorbed what she heard.

Stone gripped her hip. “Anything useful?”

He looked worried and angry. She couldn’t blame him. If this had happened to her compound she’d be furious. She faced the ghost of the man who’d been in charge in this outpost.

“What should I tell him?” she asked the town’s commander. She brought Stone into her mind so she wouldn’t have to look like an idiot talking to air,

“A trading ship approached and asked to land. We had no indication they weren’t friendly.”

“What happened?” Stone asked.

“They attacked,” the warrior said. “They killed everyone. No reason for it.”

“Who the fuck are they?” Stone asked through his connection to her.

“They said they were from the Faelis Consortium.”

The ghost shared an image with her of an alien. Tall, lean, and with distinctly feline features and a thin pelt of fur covering its body.

“That’s got to be a translation,” she said to Stone. “I mean what are the chances a cat-like alien race is using Latin?”

“We used a translator box. There were likely errors since this is a species we’ve never encountered before. Perhaps you should let your mate attend you or go back to your ship,” he said, changing the subject suddenly.

She smelled the nosebleed before she felt it.

“Shit,” she muttered, holding the side of her thumb under her nose. She didn’t have a tissue with her. It had been a long time since she’d been overloaded so much she got a nosebleed. Was it the situation, which certainly warranted overload, or her ability? She’d never been in a situation like this. No way to know without testing it. Which she totally didn’t want to do. Thankfully, Stone was at her side. He grabbed her hands and pulled her close.

“You’ve had enough, baby. We’re going home.”

It wasn’t that simple or easy now that she’d seen the galaxy outside her world. “You have the description of their ship and people, right? We’re going to find it?”

He nodded. “Yes. We’re going to find it. And I’ve sent the warning to my people and the Delroi.”

“Stone, if these people are invading the galaxy and we’re only two days away from Earth now we have to warn them. And I have to get my friends out.”

“I know, baby. We’re going now.”

He hustled her onto the shuttle and into a seat, rubbing her temples. She did have a headache coming on but his fingers took away the pain.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. Usually I don’t have any issues talking to ghosts. There were several there and I wasn’t ready for it. I will be next time.”

She didn’t want there to ever be a next time. The pain and horror of what they’d just left was awful. And this was going to spread across the galaxy? To Earth?

“Verity and her little girl. And our friend Charlie. I need to get them out.”

“I sent word as soon as you told me about them, baby. The Delroi have probably already picked them up.”

“Take me home, Stone.”

She was ready for him now. There was a part of her that had always been ready. Waiting. Anticipating. Knowing her life could be so much more. She was taking everything he promised. She walked into their apartment first and went straight to the bedroom. She wasn’t surprised to find he’d followed her.

“I want you naked.”

Smiling, she turned around. “You always want me naked.”

“I’m talking about more than skin,” he teased.

“What are we doing here, Stone? Just lay it all out on the line for me. I feel this thing for you…this massive, powerful thing. I don’t even know what it is. And I need to know you feel the same thing I do before we make it permanent.”

*

It was killing him not completing the mate bond. He’d only held back because he was worried about Jolie being able to shield her mind once the block against her telepathy dropped. But here she was now practically throwing herself at him. Giving herself to him. It took all he had to not take complete advantage. She walked into their bedroom just before him. As soon as the door closed behind them she started stripping. His tongue stuck in his throat. She took off her shirt, her bra, her jeans, and stood before him in just her panties. That was an invitation it was damned hard to pass up.

“Jolie, baby,” he murmured. “You know you can’t come to me like this. I’ll take total advantage. I’ll take control. Take away any choices you might make.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

He couldn’t help reaching for her, running his hands over her. She was soft and beautiful and his. It needed to be real now. The words of the binding prayer were pounding in his head. Jolie thought she’d chosen, but she was still holding part of herself back.

“It’s time to decide, baby. I need you.”

“I’m all yours. I haven’t held back. Not really and yes, you have to finish this.”

“I’m taking you now. All of you,” he whispered in her ear.

He loved the way she shivered. The way she blushed. Hell, he loved everything about her. He loved her. It made no sense. How could you love someone you’ve just met? He just didn’t fucking care. He loved her. She was his. His mate. What else mattered?

“Stone,” she said, her hands on his face, holding him in a grip that told him she’d never let go. “Tell me.”

“You’re mine.”

He got out of his clothes as quickly as possible. Yanked her to him, but she pushed him on to the bed and straddled him. His mate taking control. He’d never allow another woman to do it, but she was his. She had the right. His cock pushed at her entrance but she didn’t take him inside yet. She wrapped her hand around him, stroked him leisurely.

“If I’m yours then you’re mine,” she whispered.

Her gaze was possessive as she took him. That look, her touch, made him soar.

“We’re going to finish this, baby, but I want to be inside you first. Are you ready for me?”

Her thumb brushed over the drop of pre-cum on the head of his cock. Holding his gaze, she lifted it to her mouth and licked it off.

“You’re ready for me,” she teased.

Groaning, he took his cock in his hand. He used the other to grip her hip and guide her into place, pushing in slowly until he filled her. Her head fell back, thrusting her breasts into his waiting palms. He squeezed her nipples and began to move inside her. Her body was his and she felt so damned good. Now, he wanted the rest of her. She laughed.

“I can hear your thoughts, babe. Feel your emotions. You already have all of me.” She looked in his eyes. “I think I started falling in love with you the first time I saw you. Don’t you know?”

He gripped her hips and thrust harder. “I know, darlin’. I love you, too. Are you ready.”

“God, yes. Do it Stone,” she gasped, her pussy beginning those tiny convulsions he knew meant her orgasm was imminent.

He whispered the binding prayer to her while stroking inside her welcoming sheath and holding her gaze. Watched as it went molten and her soul melded into his. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced. They came together in a showering explosion of sparks. Jolie was his. Now. Forever.

“That’s a two way street,” she pant, collapsing over him.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, kissed her long and slow.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby. I love you.”

He felt her smile deep inside him. “I love you, too.”

THE END

MORE FROM LORIBELLE HUNT

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Books by Loribelle Hunt

Delroi Connection

Invasion Earth
Leaving Earth

Stolen Earth

Claiming Earth

Delroi Prophecy

Freedom

Irresistible

Redemption

Absolution

The Varangian Chronicles

Viking’s Heart

VIKING’S FURY

by

Saranna DeWylde

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

When inspiration struck for this story, I thought it was a little nuts. I mean, who wants to read about Vikings in space? Me, apparently, because the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone. Magnus the Destroyer is an alpha in all ways. He got into my head and that was that. I hope you enjoy their journey.

The heroine was inspired by Ms. Cristina Todd and The Lost Chronicles we wrote in middle school. You’ve been on my mind and I hope wherever you are, things are beautiful.

~ Saranna

1

Mercy Odinsdottir was the perfect accessory child to the up and coming Governor of Asgard Galaxy. Or soon to be. Odin Lokison was the All-Father to prison planet Hel, and he’d done his time like the rest of the inmates. By governing the planet with an iron fist, he’d cut down on crime in the Hel System, making him the first warden in two-hundred years to do so. He’d been fast tracked for governor by the Interstellar Commission.

On that fast track, their behavior had been governed with the same iron fist he used on the other residents of Hel. It applied to the way Mercy dressed, the way she wore her hair, the way she chewed her food, and the subjects on which she could and should converse.

Mercy took it all in stride. Even her rebellion was conducted in such a way that would further her father’s ambitions—quietly, in her own head.

But if he’d ever gotten a look inside her fantasy world, Mercy was sure her father would fall over dead.

Granted, he’d seen terrors and horrors walking the streets of Hel. It was filled with the scum of the universe: murderers, rapists, cannibals and thieves. Men who’d cut their mother’s throats if it suited them.

But he’d forgotten that Mercy wasn’t an automaton and she had hopes, dreams, and desires just like the next woman. Even though she wasn’t supposed to. She was supposed to want what he wanted, marry where he told her, and be fulfilled with a life of duty that was so buttoned down every individual thought of her own that was born would quickly die—suffocated by propriety.

In her dreams, she was a wild hoyden—a Valkyrie cop like her mother, Eir. Only she didn’t get the unhappy ending where she died on some wretched sewer planet alone. She had adventures, she made a difference in the ‘verse, and she was loved so wholly and completely, the stars were jealous of the burn.

The male that figured in so prominently in these fantasy was one her father had called the worst of the worst.

Magnus, the Destroyer.

She’d heard all the stories about his raiding up and down the Saxon system, taking gold, slaves, and ore. Mercy knew it would be terrifying to live through something like that, she had no doubts or illusions that he was, in fact, a dangerous man. But she admired a man who reached out and took what he wanted, who stood in the face of the endless reaches of space and didn’t give a damn what looked back.

Maybe she’d been on Hel too long, and even though she wasn’t exposed to prison society, maybe it had tinged her thinking anyway. He was strong, powerful, and he’d never become someone or something else to please anyone.

Or maybe it was because Magnus the Destroyer was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

Her father kept him in his study, a trophy in a case.

He’d been frozen for fifteen years, his face in a perpetual snarl, lip curled back over perfectly white, sharp teeth that Mercy was sure weren’t implants. Even with the fierce expression, she couldn’t help but notice the hard line of his jaw, the golden streaks in his shoulder length hair, the ripple of muscle, a moment of ferocity captured out of time.

And his eyes, dear Freya, his eyes.

They were like blades, sharp and arctic. So cold, a blue so bright it was like a star.

She liked how they followed her, as if he was actually watching her. Mercy dreamed about his eyes and what it would be like to be the recipient of all of that intensity.

He’d earned his name with those who’d crossed him. Tearing down cities, leaving whole planets nothing but ash. Until her father.

Until Odin Lokison had cornered him and hunted him like an animal. Now here he stood, watching all the ages of man pass—if he could see anything at all.

There was a part of her—that rebellious hellion that lived in her bones hidden away—that wanted to let him out. No wild thing should be so caged. If she couldn’t be free, maybe he could be.

But that was stupid.

She knew, even looking at him now, that he’d just as soon slit her throat as thank her.

Still, on nights like this one when she was feeling bold, sometimes she touched him. Pushed his hair over his shoulder, let her hands wander down the carved stone of his bicep. It wasn’t as if he could feel it, and in truth, frozen was the only way she’d ever have the pleasure of touching such a creature.

Any man her father chose for her would be some politician, someone who could do something for him. Someone who might have had pretty, scientifically engineered muscles, but nothing like this man whose form followed function.

Mercy traced her fingers over the rune tattoos that covered his right side from chest to wrist, somehow needed to know the texture of each one.

Her wildest, most forbidden fantasy was that one day she’d come to her father’s office and Magnus the Destroyer would be hot to the touch, he’d come alive under her hands and throw her over his shoulder and carry her off-world to some pre-historic place where all the veneers were gone and a man’s worth was written on his body in scars.

She sighed aloud.

Such things her mind conjured when left to its own devices for too long.

If he were to really wake up, the ravishing probably wouldn’t happen in any way that was enjoyable. Mercy could see the rage in his eyes so potent, that even frozen, burned through to her marrow. He would hate the man who’d done this to him, and he’d have no love for the man’s daughter either.

It would be nothing like the stories her tutor had smuggled in for her: all alpha male heroes and heroines with a cause. No… it would be violent and awful. Or that’s what she told herself when the thought of all the endless days of propriety, duty, and self-denial wore thin and she dreamed of adventure—a world where she was more than a cog in someone else’s machine.

Knowing it was all a fairy tale didn’t stop her from dressing him up in finery in her head. It was all she had, really. Or undressing him in the real…

Mercy continued tracing the tattoos on his arms, his chest. Then her hand ventured lower, down to those sculpted abs.

Her cheeks heated, and her heart slammed against her ribcage. As if all of the other caresses hadn’t been forbidden, but this, this was something more somehow. She just wanted to trace the line by his hip. The one that pointed the way to the promised land, so to speak.

She jerked her hand back, ashamed at her own thoughts. Not for admiring an attractive male, but for touching him. She was no better than many of the men sentenced to Hel. Mercy touched him without his permission and without his awareness—or worse, if he was aware and couldn’t tell her no?

Oh Goddess!

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The reframe, thinking of what it would be like if their positions were reversed thoroughly disgusted and terrified her. It was no different because he was a man and she a woman.

She imagined herself on Hel’s moon—Holle—the women’s prison for her trespass. She laughed a loud. “Yeah, that would sure give me some street cred, wouldn’t it? I sexually assaulted Magnus the Destroyer.”

She snorted at herself and it wasn’t the least bit proper or ladylike.

“Show yourself!” A voice demanded.

Mercy bit her lip. It was the heir apparent to the Hel throne, Fenris Peitrson. Damn, she’d been caught. She should’ve known better than to come to her father’s study while he was gone, even though that was prime time for Magnus Watching.

“It’s just me,” she called out.

Fenris stepped through the door and re-holstered his laser gun. “What are you doing in Warden Lokison’s study?” His eyes narrowed.

Fenris looked every inch like the mythological being he was named for. His whole self seemed to have been formed for predation. The too large mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, the big all-seeing eyes that made her feel like she was tender meat rather than her father’s daughter. And the sleek plane of his build…

She tried not to shiver.

“I was looking for my comportment book. I left it in here last time I visited.” She hated that he expected her to answer to him. Anywhere she wanted to go within their quarters should’ve been above reproach and recrimination.

But as per usual, he asked her to justify herself. Probably just his way of having some control. Perhaps he thought tattling on the warden’s daughter would earn him favor.

His gaze turned to Magnus and then back to her and her cheeks heated. She knew they were stained red with her blush.

“Are you sure?”

“Excuse me?” she squeaked.

“Are you sure you’re here for comportment?” He lifted his chin, almost like a beast scenting for his prey. As if he could smell her lie. “I think you’re here because you’re curious.”

She swallowed and took a step back as he advanced. “About what?”

“About men.”

Mercy shook her head. “I live on a planet full of them. They’re not mysterious.” She refused to acknowledge the thoughts she’d had of Magnus.

“No, you know what I mean.” He started unbuttoning his fatigue jacket.

“What are you doing?” Fear closed around her throat like a fist.

“Giving you an education.”

“My father—”

“—is on Holle.” The look of absolute surety on his face was something she knew she’d see in her nightmares.

Fenris was built well, if slim. But Mercy had no interest in the man before her.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” she reminded him.

And she was proud of herself that her voice didn’t break and she showed no fear.

“I am.”

“From what?”

“From yourself. What if you woke him up? Do you know what that would mean?” He nodded to Magnus.

“Probably the same thing that you’re about to do.” Even for all of the Destroyer’s fierce reputation, there was a part of her that didn’t believe that. Probably the part of her that had dreamed away too many hours thinking about him.

“Better me than him. I’ll marry you.”

Revulsion twisted her guts. “No you won’t.” She shook her head. “My father would kill me first.”

“I will protect you. Give us both what we want.” He moved toward her.

She took another step back. “Fenris, stop this. Stop now and I won’t tell my father anything.”

He looked as if he almost felt sorry for her. “I think we both know I can’t risk that.”

She quickly considered all of her options. Mercy had a panic alarm that would bring the special forces teams running, but they’d all know—all of the men who worked for her father. They’d know she put herself in a situation where she had to be saved. He’d be humiliated. Fenris didn’t understand Odin Lokison as well as he thought he did. Her father would blame her.

The only route to escape was through Fenris.

And then the world as she knew it changed forever.

A siren echoed like the shrieking of a Valkyrie and when it did, Magnus the Destroyer moved.

It wasn’t the slow creaking movement of stiff joints and frigid muscle, the awkward bend of a newborn fawn—it was all power and heat combined with a predatory grace.

She watched in morbid fascination as the killing machine she’d so admired fulfilled its purpose—the ancient war hammer on the wall a decoration, now the mighty weapon of war in all its reclaimed glory in the hands of Magnus the Destroyer.

It crashed into Fenris’s skull and she squeezed her eyes shut as something warm splattered on her cheek.

The logical part of her brain screamed at her to flee, but something else held her frozen. Maybe it was like the survival instinct of all small, weak things that forced her to make herself smaller. As if somehow he wouldn’t see her standing in front of him if only she could be still.

As if somehow he hadn’t been one-hundred percent aware of her running her fingers over his flesh.

At least she didn’t feel like a sex offender anymore.

No, now she felt like the girl who used to be Mercy Odinsdottir because she was sure that in the next ten minutes, that war hammer would be crashing into her skull and she’d be the sob story that pushed her father ahead in the polls for governor.

She gasped when the heat of his arms closed around her like hot metal shackles.

“And now you’re mine,” a voice growled low and deep.

Mercy imagined if that war hammer could talk, it would have a voice just like Magnus the Destroyer.

2

Magnus the Destroyer wasn’t in the habit of taking hostages.

But neither was he in the habit of standing around like fucking statue for fifteen years. Things change.

This girl was his ticket off this shit planet.

No, he corrected himself. She was no girl, but all sweet, soft, woman. Just the scent of her had him hard as stone. Or perhaps there was more to it than that. All the days spent holding himself still and silent while she traced her fingers over him. Pretending to be frozen while everything under his skin was like imploding stars.

So many times he’d wanted to just tangle his hands in her hair and bend her over that desk and give her a good hard fucking. That yearning had become bittersweet when he realized the pretty sprite with the soft hands and the generous mouth was that bastard fuck’s daughter.

Hurting women wasn’t something he did. He might salt the land so no crops could grow, he mind blast an EMP to shut down all of their machinery, but physically, he didn’t hurt those who couldn’t fight back.

And with all he’d seen in the last weeks, that Fenris prick had earned that love tap from his war hammer.

The siren continued to wail in his ears. It was too soon. He should’ve been out of the study by the time the alarm sounded. Something had gone wrong with the plan.

He decided to take her. He could drop her on some outpost for her daddy to come fetch her once they were far enough away…or, he could keep her. Wouldn’t that just stick in Lokison’s craw? Like a shell stuck between his teeth, it would wear away at the soft places and make him bleed.

With the woman hoisted over his shoulder like a sack of grain, he headed down the hall toward what he thought were the bay doors to the transport.

“You’re going the wrong way,” she said, quiet and timid.

“What?”

“Wrong way. That’s not really the way out.”

“I’ve seen it.” He didn’t know why he stopped to converse with her. She was a hostage. A hostage wouldn’t want to help him get away, she’d be engineering his bloody end. But there was something about the tone of her voice that made him believe her.

She squirmed and he put her down, her small hands still rested on his shoulders. “It’s a trap. There’s a ship, but it’ll explode as soon as we exit the atmosphere. This way.” She nodded down toward the other end of the hall where it seemed to dead end. “That’s my father’s escape pod.”

Or maybe his brain was still scrambled from being frozen and she kept touching him. He should be raging at her, destroying everything in his path—but he felt bound to protect her.

Perhaps it was the look in her eyes when Fenris cornered her. It had been one of fear, but a sad resignation. That had severed her ties to her father, at least to his way of thinking. A woman who could depend on her caretaker, a woman beloved by her father, she wouldn’t have had that reaction.

Maybe that’s why she was helping him. She knew she had no worth aside from being able to help him off planet.

“How do we get inside?”

She splayed her hand on the access screen, but entry was denied.

Her face was again a mask of sorrowful resignation.

Something about that expression, it made him swing the hammer again. It crashed into the circuitry—sparks flying from the crushed mechanism. The door clicked open.

There was a ship, but it was only meant to carry one person.

“Is there another?” He nodded at the ship.

She shook her head.

Fuck. He never would have done that to any child of his, left her here on this prison planet that swarmed with his enemies. It would be a bad death. Well, he wasn’t leaving her here. If things had gone according to his plan, the world outside this building had just caught fire and there would be a planet-wide riot. Death, destruction, and utter mayhem.

“Come on, then.”

“Where am I to sit?”

He climbed into the ship. “Right here.”

She blushed and shook her head.

“You had no trouble touching me when you thought I was frozen.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

She stood there, trembling. Alone and afraid. There was still part of him that wanted to punish her for her father’s crimes. She had his nose, his jaw… but her eyes were something else altogether.

There were like the sky on his home planet and they reminded him of days long past.

“Maybe you’re confused about what’s happening here. I’m kidnapping you. I didn’t ask. Get. In.” He nodded to the hall behind her that had just filled with rioting inmates. “Unless you want to stay with them.”

She scrambled up the dock and dumped herself unceremoniously in his lap and the ship closed around them as they prepared for launch.

Mercy was just a bit of a thing, and he leaned his chin over her shoulder to hurry through the pre-flight checks. The sooner the engine ignited, the sooner the ravenous mob would be incinerated if they attempted to impede his progress.

She squirmed again, obviously trying to get comfortable, but it did nothing for his comfort level, rubbing her ass all over his dick. He knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if she was.

He grit his teeth and grasped her hips. “Be still, woman.”

“I can’t. There’s something poking me.” She squirmed again, grinding her sweet ass against him.

He closed his eyes. Poking her. Valhalla help him. He increased the pressure of his grasp and leaned closer to her ear and the scent of some blooming flower filled his senses. “It’s going to keep poking you until you settle down. Get me?”

She froze. “I…uh…”

“Just be still. Or we’re going to die here.”

She was so still that for a moment, he was sure she could’ve faked being the statue.

Magnus finished the preflight checks and just as the crowd poured over them like scurrying ants, the engines growled to life with a tell-tale roar. Launch was imminent and they scattered like those same, tiny ants when the thrusters ignited. Flames filled the bay and they were catapulted up past the stratosphere where the pretty blue sky merged into an ink black eternity and the stars became tangible.

It was only then that she sagged against him, settled as if that was the place where she belonged.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Magnus asked her before he could think better of it.

“What purpose would it serve to show you fear? You are called destroyer for a reason. You will do as you see fit and I will…” she trailed off for a moment. “Deal with it as I must.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Didn’t I? I remember you telling me that I was confused because you didn’t ask me. It was an order or no—you’re kidnapping me.” She nodded. “That’s what it was.”

“And I could have forced you to obey me how?” Her hair was soft and silky against his skin. He wanted to touch it.

“In truth, you were the better choice. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Vulnerability came so easily to her. She didn’t hesitate to show him her weaknesses. He found that idea to be rather terrifying. He’d never show his weaknesses, yet, in her, it didn’t make her seem fragile. It made her strong.

They both knew he hated her father. They both knew he could hurt her. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and they were alone in the far, dark reaches of space. Still, she rested against him, breathing even and relaxed as if she were with some trusted bodyguard.

What startled him the most was that there was a part of him that wished he could be that for her.

Probably because he’d gone fifteen years without plowing any sweet fields.

Or not so sweet fields. It had been a drought—a frozen winter in which all of his body’s needs had been neglected.

For a moment, he feared that it had wasted away and fallen off during his imprisonment.

No, he reassured himself. It was definitely still there, snuggled like a damn puppy up against her delicious, round, apple ass. His fingers fairly itched to spank it and he was sure her cheeks would flame just like they had when she’d felt guilty for running her hands all over him.

There’d been something decadent in that, holding himself so still as she explored.

His cock jerked against her and she gasped, but didn’t move away from him. As if she had anywhere to go.

By Ragnarok, he had to get this woman to an outpost and get rid of her. He’d never achieve anything if all he could do was be led around by his cock.

“No answer for me then?” she prompted.

Magnus realized he’d forgotten what she’d asked him. “I don’t remember what you asked me.”

“Is it the freezing sickness?” She squirmed around in his lap to look at him.

And he wondered for the first time if maybe he was actually dead and this was the real Hel—not some shitty prison planet, but a place where he’d be punished for all the wrong he’d done. To have some sweet miss squirming against his aching cock from now until the wolf swallowed all the suns and shattered the rainbow bridge.

“No, it’s not that, girl. Be still.” Magnus didn’t want to look at her face, if he did, he might do something stupid like kiss her.

And she’d let him. She’d admitted she’d do whatever he wanted.

But he didn’t want a woman because she was earning her keep. He wanted a woman who wanted him with the same fury, the same need.

“I don’t want to be still. If you’re going to die and leave me alone in this hulk of bolts, I need to know,” she cried.

Her eyes were so wide, and her breasts rose and fell against his bare chest with her impassioned plea.

“No, I’m not going to die. Unless you don’t stop squirming.”

“I don’t understand your problem with my moving around. No other male has had such a reaction to me.”

He arched a brow. “I’m sure they have. But I’m also sure you didn’t touch any of them like you touched me and I can’t forget it.”

“Why not?” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, it was a cute little burn, her cat scratches. Her question was almost a plea.

“I liked it.”

Her face flamed again and he decided that he definitely liked making her blush.

“I still like it. So stop being a minx and turn around, and be still.”

He could swear that he could feel her heartbeat thundering against the cage of her ribs. But that wasn’t possible. No human heart could beat so loudly, but that didn’t stop some part of him from fancying that he could.

“I… if you want me,” she began.

“Oh, I want you, but I’d rather have you screaming.”

“You want me to be afraid?” She curled her nose.

He laughed, a deep sort of gut laugh that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “No, little one. I want you to be screaming with need. I want you to be demanding I fuck you because there’s no other way to sate you. Get me?”

She licked her lips. “I thought you’d be… but you’re exactly what I wanted.”

“What?” He had absolutely no idea what to make of that statement.

She turned away from him, faced the controls, and was again stiff as a statue. “You know I fantasized about you. Obviously.” She shook her head. “Goddess, I’m so embarrassed.”

She took a shuddering breath and he knew that she had more to say.

“I made you into the ideal of a man. But while I was doing it, I knew it couldn’t be real. I knew if you ever woke up, you’d be angry. You’d probably kill me. But you haven’t. You saved my life. You rescued me. You really are just like one of those heroes from the books I’m not supposed to read.”

“Any scenario where I’m the hero has it all wrong, sweetheart.” By Valhalla, she had the balls of a Berserker, but the naivety of a Saxony princess. There was something both fierce and fragile about her.

“Really? I guess you’ll have to prove that.” Suddenly, the vulnerable girl was gone and in her place was a woman ready to fight tooth and nail for her ideals. He wasn’t sure how she did that.

“I caved a man’s head in. You still have blood on your face. I kidnapped you.” He enumerated his crimes.

Then he wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself. Why did he want her to think he was a bad man? As long as she thought he was some kind of hero, she’d be easy to manage.

The thought sat heavy and dark in his gut like a bad shank of meat.

“He was trying to hurt me. And if you’d left me on Hel, you know how that would’ve ended. Do you think my father would want me after that? No.” She shook her head in a small motion. “Even now, he might try to find me if the news blasters find out what’s happened. But if not? He’ll figure he’s well-rid of me.”

“Why does your father treat you like one of the Saxony? Your mother was the great Valkyrie Eir. You have her eyes. You must have more that is like her. Yet, you are subservient, second-class. On my planet, you would never be treated thusly.”

“On your planet I would have two babes clutching my ankles, and one on the teat.”

He considered her for a moment and thought that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Except he knew that wasn’t the right answer. He may have been a knuckle-dragging Berserker, but he did know how to deal with the women. Treat them like men. Like people. Pretty simple, actually. “Only if that’s what you chose.”

She laughed. “So I hear. But if that’s the case, why would my mother have ever chosen Odin Lokison?”

“I wouldn’t know the answer to that. Valkyries marry for many reasons. Probably because she wanted you.”

“Then why would she leave again.”

“To fill her purpose in the ‘verse.”

She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Her purpose. Yet, I have none. Only to make alliances for my father.”

“When this is over, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Really?” She turned to face him again, her sweet ass shimmying against his cock.

“Gods, woman. What did I tell you?”

She bit her lip. “That you like it.”

Valhalla help me, he thought for the second time. Because if Valhalla couldn’t, he was sure Hel would.

He grabbed her hips and dragged her forward so she was perched so intimately atop his erection, that there could be no doubt of what she was doing to him. Her eyes widened and she’d bitten her lip so often that it was swollen, bee-stung, and irresistible.

Her little claws dug into his shoulder like a kneading cat and her tiny little scratches, he couldn’t explain it, but something about it pushed him past whatever limits he thought he could maintain.

In the middle of the far reaches of space, Magnus the Destroyer wasn’t terrorizing the Saxon System or pursuing his revenge.  He was giving a pretty virgin her first kiss.

3

Magnus the Destroyer indeed earned his namesake, but it wasn’t for ravaging towns, or women. It was for destroying a fantasy.

And when compared to the real thing, it was a pale, strange creature destined to die a cold death and then burn to ash in the glaring intensity of the real thing.

His kiss was both everything she’d imagined, and nothing like it at all.

Mercy couldn’t conceive of a thing like this—the fire of a thousand suns condensed into one man’s lips. It wasn’t possible. Yet here she burned.

In her most heated imaginings, she’d never felt like this. She was the silliest girls, but she couldn’t bring herself too much recrimination, because she was living a fantasy and it was all the better because it was real.

Magnus the Destroyer wanted her.

She shivered.

“Are you afraid?” he whispered against her lips.

“Very, so don’t stop.” She wound her arms around his thick, corded neck.

Mercy decided that she very much enjoyed kissing, the way his hands fit around her hips, the way they fit together. She was dizzy with sensation and she never wanted it to stop.

Which of course was why the autopilot chose that moment to disengage.

An alarm sounded, ripping her from her oasis of bliss.

“Shit,” he growled. “Here, stay where you are. I can nav better.”

Mercy wasn’t going to argue. She buried her face in his neck, staying in the moment.

He smelled like…cold. She remembered once when she was young, traveling to the outer systems with her mother and she’d had to be bundled in furs. The cold had stung her nose, her eyes, and there’d been a scent to the air that was crisp and hard, and she’d always imagined that cold had a smell.

Maybe it was because he’d been in suspended animation, but Mercy didn’t think so. It was part of him—part of the raiding people that spawned both her mother and Magnus.

He burned like the cold too. Her father told her cold couldn’t burn, but it did. She knew that fire could be so hot it was cold and that something could freeze and burn.

The cadence of Magnus’s heart thudded faster, and that was when she knew something had gone wrong.

“Mercy, something’s wrong with the pod.”

“We’re not going to land on Holle, are we?”

“No, we’re a long way from Holle. The ship engaged wyrmdrive as soon as we exited the atmosphere. We’re on the edges of the Asgard system, not too far from Saxony.”

“Not too far from Saxony? Isn’t there the Great Dark between Saxony as Asgard?” She referred to the dangerous black rift between the galaxies. Once, it had been thought to be a black hole, but early explores found it to be traversable, but there was no light. Something in the black devoured it. Only the greatest navigators could guide through it by instinct alone.

They could go around it, and many did, but that was many more light years. Unless one had a rainbow bridge.

“It is and we’re headed for it.”

All the heat and desire that burned in her was gone replaced by strangling fear. She had nightmares about the Great Dark. What lived there, what died there… and what the Great Dark was.

“I can get us through.”

“In this?”

“Fuck,” he growled and his body strained, muscles bulging as he fought to straighten the controls.

“What’s happening?’ she whispered, afraid of the answer.

“There’s a planet at the edge of the Great Dark. It’s taking us there.”

“So maybe there’s an outpo—”

“It’s uninhabited. And you know the likelihood of anyone stopping to answer a distress call from a Hel ship? Not anyone we want to stop, that’s for damn sure.”

“Someone must have tampered with the ship.”

“Who else knew about the pod?”

“Only my father’s people.”

“Fenris?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Damn it. There’s nothing I can do short of knocking out the controls.”

“Then we’ll left to drift in space. I don’t want to die out here.”

“You’d rather die down there?” he asked quietly.

“At least down there, we have a chance.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Someone wanted this pod there and most likely, it wasn’t for anything good.”

She clung more tightly to him.

“The re-entry process has started. That’s a good sign that we’re not going to crash.”

“Kiss me again.” Mercy didn’t give him a chance to argue. She’d spent her whole life doing what she was supposed to do. Now everything she’d been taught and believed disappeared like smoke. She wanted to kiss Magnus one more time. So she was going to.

Mercy didn’t think they were going to die, at least not at that moment. But she knew things were going to change irrevocably no matter what waited for them on the surface of the planet.

At least she’d be marooned on a planet with a strong man who knew how to survive rather than a snake like Fenris who could only make his way on the backs of others.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said against her lips.

She didn’t know if he meant of him, or what lay ahead, or both. He didn’t make her any pretty promises, but Mercy realized she didn’t need them. Only people who thought they would fail made promises.

I’ll come back for you, Eir had said. But she hadn’t. She’d died.

No, Mercy didn’t want promises, she wanted action.

Magnus was definitely a man of action.

“Don’t you want to watch re-entry? There’s so much fire. It’s beautiful, the way it streaks past the viewports. I imagine it looks much like your hair.”

“More fire here.” She closed her eyes and surrendered to the kiss, the way his hands felt as they moved up.

When he finally broke the kiss he said, “I think you’re a little adrenaline junky. There’s more Valkyrie in you than you think.”

The ship began to open and she realized they were on solid ground.

Mercy would rather have just stayed in the pod. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with whatever was coming. They could just stay together, in that little cocoon of heat and desire.

Except she knew that wasn’t how the world worked.

So she climbed off his lap and deployed the stairs.

“Woman, will you wait? See, all Valkyrie.” He should his head.

Mercy wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she was just trying to get out of the way.

Taking in their surroundings, she saw that the dock had been well-tended, once upon a time. Ice crystals had formed at the edges of the doors, but the electronics were all clean. No evidence of dust, or exposure to the elements.

“We’re not alone.”

“That someone who wanted us here…” She pointed to a far wall where big, bold, black letters read, “I knew you’d save her, Magnus.”

“What the hell is that?” he growled and spun around to face her. “What kind of game are you playing, Mercy Odinsdottir?”

She shook her head, but he advanced on her.

“Tell me.”

For some reason, even though he was angry, even though she’d seen him cave a man’s head in, she wasn’t precisely afraid of him. That’s not to say she was looking forward to his ire, but she knew in her bones that he wouldn’t hurt her.

She supposed that was a rather stupid assumption considering all the facts in evidence.

His fingers closed around her upper arms and he leaned in close to your face. “I’m not kidding,” he growled.

There was something about his growl that twisted up her insides. Made her think about what it was like sitting in his lap, his manhood pressed against her. Gave her that same feeling low in her belly.

“Oh for gods’ sake, Mercy. That’s not supposed to turn you on.”

She swallowed and wet her lips. “Must be the Valkyrie in me. I can’t help it.” Her eyes narrowed. “And how do you know?”

He arched a brow. “The way your eyes get all sleepy and half-lidded, your lip swollen just begging me to kiss you again, the way you gasped when I grabbed you. You’re supposed to fear me. The whole godsdamned galaxy fears me—no, the whole ‘verse. And you… you want furious kisses in the ice.”

“I really don’t know about the message on the wall. I have no idea where it came from.” She pushed away from him, irritated that he could read her need so easily. “Maybe you’ve been here before. You’ve traversed the Great Dark. You’ve slayed monsters, destroyed planets. Maybe you were here and forgot.”

“The likelihood of that is the same as you leaving this planet a virgin.”

Her cheeks burned. “Maybe I just will.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against him. “I could take you right now and you’d let me.”

“I couldn’t stop you.” Instead of coming out as a recrimination, it sounded breathy and needy.

“All you have to do is tell me to stop, Valkyrie.”

“I’m no Valkyrie.”

“Oh, but you are. When you’re tested, you will see.”

He sounded so sure, she knew he was going to be disappointed when he realized she was as timid as her name.

“Fine. Are we going to get this over with or not?”

He released her. “Not. I need to know what we’re dealing with. It’s someone who had access to your father’s pod.”

She nodded. “And someone who had access to you. Someone who knew that you were going to escape.”

“And someone who either gives a shit what happens to you or this is some elaborate trap.”

“I can’t think of anyone.” Mercy shook her head. “Maybe I’m not the “her” they meant.”

“Who else could it be? I’m not in the habit of saving maidens.”

“Maybe that’s not me, and maybe that’s not you. The ‘verse shifts all the time.”

“No, fuck that shit. I believe everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, that reason is too much grog, but it is still a reason.” He nodded. “For now, let’s find shelter.”

“We’re not staying here?” She wandered over to the control console and found two packs outfitted for wilderness survival. “No, I guess not. And whoever set this up, knew we wouldn’t.”

He followed her over and started pulling things out of the pack. Food rations, a temporary shelter device, and a map.

“Still think that wasn’t meant for us? The tech pants and shirt are in your size.” He rummaged around. “Mine too.”

The tech clothing was meant to protect them from any indigenous plants or animals that might be poisonous. Hopefully, it would help with the cold too.

There was no sun here. She wasn’t sure how the planet wasn’t anything more than a ball of ice. Unless the core burned hot, and then they were on borrowed time.

“Do you want to follow the nav map?” He showed her the device, a red light indicating their position and green line to show the path they were to follow.

“You’re the great adventurer.”

“Mercy, this is about you too. If you really want to stay in the hangar, I’m not going to drag you out into the wild. We don’t know what’s out there or who left the gear. We don’t know what we’re walking in to. This is your life. I’m not going to make that decision for you.”

“I kind of wish you would.” She laughed, but there was no mirth. “My father told me that in every part of the ‘verse, the way I was raised was prized in a woman. And everything you tell me is the opposite.”

“You are not property.” He touched her face. “Even if you were mine, you would still be your own. Do you understand?”

“Not really.” This was so contrary to everything her father had taught her that she had trouble processing it.

“Choose.” His jaw was hard and set.

Why couldn’t he just kiss her some more? Grope her, ravage her? That sounded like a much better use of their time. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t know who’d left the packs, who had tampered with the ship, or if it was even meant for them. She wanted to stay in the hangar until rations ran out and then deal with it, but she didn’t want to stay alone.

“If I choose to stay in the hangar, will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly, and with no hesitation. He hadn’t even had to think about it.

She sighed. “Then we go.”

“And why did you choose that?” he prompted.

“Do we have to pick it to death?” She didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to do it. Mercy just wanted to do what had to be done and forget about it, if she could.

“Normally, I’d say no, but you need to learn yourself. Your own motivations so you can see your strengths like I do.”

“I guess I could do worse than Magnus the Destroyer for a tutor.” She sighed, suddenly uncomfortable. She’d never had anyone who believed in her and it was her “kidnapper” who listened to what she had to say and encouraged her. Another heavy exhale steadied her. “I think I chose as I did because of what you said. Because you’d stay with me when you so obviously think that following the nav-map is the best course of action.”

“And why did that make you choose?”

“I don’t know.” She fidgeted.

“Yes, you do.” He used his finger to tilt her chin up so she was forced to look at him.

“Fine.” Oh, she could drown in his eyes. Mercy didn’t know how he expected her to maintain any rational kind of thought while she was slipping down into—”

“Mercy,” he prompted again.

“You put your life in my hands. And I can’t do any less. And I see that you want me to trust you not because I have to, but because I can.”

“Lesson passed.” He nodded. “Suit up.”

4

Magnus thought he was a grown man.

Grown men didn’t sneak glances at beautiful women while they were changing. Untried boys did things like that. Grown men told their women that they wanted to watch them, grown men undressed them with their gaze boldly and purposefully, and within full view of their women.

But he couldn’t help it.

He’d had his hands all over her curves and the way she’d responded to him had his recently thawed brain much too hot to concentrate on anything but her.

Shit, he had to get his head in the game. Their lives depended on it.

The worst part about it was he knew that she’d give him whatever he desired. Even if she wasn’t just paying a debt or finding some way to feel like she’d done her part—he was sure from the way she kissed him that she wanted him too.

Only, and he never thought he’d say this and if he had to say it out loud he’d swear that it was the freezing sickness talking, but he didn’t want just a fuck. A mechanical chore, even if the outcome was pleasure.

He wanted a connection.

He hadn’t realized how lonely silence was. He’d been left on his own many a time. The first time he’d crossed the Great Dark, he’d been alone.

But watching the years of men and beasts go by, looking out of his frozen prison, he longed for interaction. For connection. For touch.

Then she’d been there, her tiny little touches like the remnants of a meteor shower, burning up before she even made contact.

Yet, it was her casual brush of flesh against his that kept him sane.

That thought was enough to make him turn his head. She was beautiful, kind, and generous. She’d just shown that she trusted him. He wouldn’t violate that by sneaking peeks at her lovely, delicious, delectable…

“All done,” she said and turned around. “Were you watching me?”

He’d been caught. “It’s only fair.”

She blushed again. Damn, he liked making her blush.

“I’m teasing you.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Mercy fidgeted with some unseen bit of something on her sleeve.

“It’s only been a day, so probably not.” He shook his head.

“Fine. Should I strip naked for your inspection?” She pursed her lips.

She was being flip, but his cock didn’t care about that. It demanded yes. But his brain… no. “See? Look at that sauce. I’m Magnus the Destroyer. And you’re sassing me with absolutely no fear.”

“Because I trust you.” She smiled softly.

Damn it, there it was again. All those soft, squishy feelings inside that he’d always wanted to avoid, yet now sought out. He was as confused as she was. This was all new territory and now was not the time to go off on some adventure with his feelings. They had plenty of adventure right here in front of them.

“Are you ready?” He handed her a light stick.

She snapped it in half and it glowed to a pale, green life. “As I’ll ever be.”

He stepped through the door and out into the new world. It was strange, the sky was black as pitch and he could see no stars. But there were odd little bits of flora and fauna that shone and twinkled like what his mother called Valkyrie lights. She said those things were the souls of defeated Valkyries lighting the way home. If he was ever lost, he should follow them.

And now they seemed to be leading down the path that the nav wanted them to take.

Mercy reached out her hand almost as if she wanted to touch one, but she pulled back.

“It’s strange how they grow among the ice.”

“Where else would Valkyrie lights grow?”

She laughed. “The Great Dark, I suppose.”

They were silent then as they followed the trail. He turned to check on her now and again, but she kept pace behind him.

It seemed as if they walked forever, but in truth, it couldn’t have been very far.

The land in front of them opened out to a wide expanse of a steaming lake. There was a pink sandy beach and the water was filled with those Valkyrie lights, making the water a strange purple.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. Mercy touched her finger to the water. “It’s warm.”

He pulled the mech shelter out of his pack and it deployed, unfolding and setting itself up. He peered inside and saw it had every luxury—including a dry chem toilet. Whoever had wanted them here seemed to think of Mercy’s every comfort.

It sure as hell wasn’t Odin Lokison.

She’d spotted a lagoon and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Wait, wait! Let me check the water for salinity and life forms. The Valkyrie lights may be pretty, but we don’t know if that’s actually what they are and if they’ll chew your face off.”

He readied a test strip and followed her over to the small lagoon that was glowed even more brightly than what seemed to be the sea. But they didn’t look like the Valkyrie lights, it was something all together different.

There were no predators, no life at all, in fact. The water was too hot. There was ice all around them, but for the bodies of water.

“Seems safe enough.” He used the nav to run a sonar test for depth. “No deeper than six feet in the middle. But why don’t we get settled before you go adventuring?”

“Okay.” Mercy ducked and pushed her way into the shelter. “Oh, wow. This is nice. I think my father used to use these when he went hunti—” She stopped as if she’d just realized what impact her words would have. “That was thoughtless.”

“You mean when he was hunting me? It’s okay, you know. That’s not your fault. I’m not angry at you.”

“But I don’t live in a bubble. I should think before I speak.”

“It takes more than a memory to hurt me, Mercy.”

“Does it? Because you could slice me to the bone with one.”

Her words crashed into him and he cocked his head to the side as he considered her. “Why aren’t you afraid of pain?”

“Being afraid of a thing doesn’t make it any less likely to happen.” She shrugged.

“Is that what you’ve been taught, or what you feel as yourself?”

“What?”

“Your tutors. Did they say those words to you?”

“No, my mother did, and they feel true.”

“It’s a very Valkyrie thing to say.” He nodded.

“Have you known many Valkyries?”

“I suppose. I was raised on Acadia. My mother was Boudicea, and when the Saxony came and salted our lands, poisoned the wells, and wiped out our technology, I vowed revenge.”

“And have you had it? Your revenge, I mean?”

“No. I still have to kill Rollo. He was the warlord that took my mother. And when I find him, I will grind his bones for salt,” he growled.

“That’s why my father hunted you. It wasn’t just the thrill of the support. I’ve heard that name before. Rollo. He’s one of my father’s supporters for governor.”

“Your father will never be governor. The Asgardians don’t want another Saxony.”

“I think all the honest thieves are on Hel.” She shook her head. “It was Rollo my father was hoping would ask for me.”

“He’s already married some Saxony princess. He wants to be king.”

“Then I think you should kill him.”

He sat down. “That’s rather bloodthirsty of you, Mercy.”

“Did you know that Eir, my mother’s name, means Mercy?” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Rollo can’t be king. He’s a bad man. King of Saxony means he’d rule the Saxon system and from there, he’d control the food supply for most of the ‘verse.”

“You speak of killing a man as if it were an easy thing to end a life.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I know it’s no easy thing. And I don’t know if given the chance, if I could do it. But you could.”

“And then what? Then I’d be King of Saxony?”

“Do you want the right answer or the answer I’d rather have in my head?”

“Both.” He chuckled.

She flopped down on the inflated sleeping area with a huff. “I know that the right answer would be that you’d stay until a fair government was installed, but really, I’d want you to run away with me.”

“With you? What would we do?”

“This.”

“Right now? In a mech tent on a no name planet with…”

“I told you it was silly.”

“What do you think is going to happen here?” he asked softly.

“We’re going to fall in love.”

She said this with the utmost surety that it slapped his face harder than a mace ever could. “Why do you say that?” He wasn’t afraid of her conviction, or the idea of loving her. But they’d just met.

“It’s science.” She shrugged. “Proven fact that people who’ve been through a high-stress situation together tend to bond. And we’re stranded on an uninhabited planet. Eventually, I’ll look good. I’m the only one here.” She gave a wry laugh.

“You look plenty good,” he reassured her.

“And don’t forget Stockholm Syndrome. I’m completely reliant on you for my survival.”

“I thought we established back at the hangar that we’re in this together.” He tried not to laugh. She had this way of stating things that was so brash, so honest, but completely unaware of herself.

“Without you, I might last until the rations ran out. Then I’d be screwed. And I know it.”

“You’re stronger than you know.”

“And you keep saying things like that.” She laughed. “You make me feel good about myself. And I think that you like that I’m not afraid of you. You’ll love me. And I’ll love you even if it is just while we’re here.”

He smirked. “And what if we never leave this planet?”

“Then I guess we should try to make the best of it.” She shrugged.

Magnus shook his head. “You are not what I expected, Mercy Odinsdottir.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

He wanted to tell her so many things. He was sorry he took her, but he wasn’t sorry they were together. He was sorry for what it meant for her. But then there was another part of him that wasn’t sorry at all. A man like Odin Lokison didn’t deserve to have Mercy in his life. He treated her like crap.

A child should be protected and loved and she was neither. She was nothing but a means to an end for him. There was a vengeance in that, too, for Magnus. He’d taken her away and now she belonged to him. Odin would never use her again.

He didn’t have to hurt Mercy to make Odin pay. All he had to do was love her better and that would be no harsh task.

Could it really be that easy?

Magnus thought about what she said about Rollo as he lay down next to her and she came into his arms easily.

For fifteen years he’d been frozen. Fifteen years of his life, gone. All the while Rollo had was still walking around breathing. That didn’t sit well in his gut.

But she curled into him, her small hand splayed on his chest and that calmed him, eased him. All things he’d never expected from his enemy’s daughter.

In truth, all things he’d never expected from anyone.

It was almost as if they had the bond like the Valkyries and Berserkers in the days of yore. He made her stronger, and she gave him peace.

Or as much peace as a man like him was capable of enjoying.

For being mostly marooned on a planet hovering at the edge of the Great Black, it wasn’t too bad a deal.

His fingers closed over hers.

“Will you do something for me?” she asked after a while.

“If I can.”

“We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. We don’t know how long we’ll be here or what’s waiting for us.” She sighed.

“Is this your I don’t want to die a virgin speech?” he teased her.

“No. This is my there are things I want to experience and the best time is now speech. And before you try to talk me out of it—” she hid her face against his chest “—it isn’t like just being here with you made me want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I touched you. I’ve thought about it. It’s not that I don’t want to die a virgin. It’s that I want to experience you.” She laughed, a nervous titter.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there is some Valkyrie in me after all because I never would have said this…or I never thought I could make my mouth move to form those words. I said them and I didn’t die of mortification.”

“You want mortification?” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. “You got some Berserker in you?”

She lifted her head and searched his eyes. “No.”

“Do you want some?”

Her mouth dropped. “Do you mean… that’s dirty. And bad. That’s so bad. Did that ever actually work for you?”

“I think it’s about to.” He grinned, and she laughed. “See, sex is supposed to be fun. You should be able to laugh. It’s serious, but it’s not.”

“So I’m not supposed to be staring at the ceiling thinking about goddess and star system.”

“No. Gods, no. Who told you that?” He was so horrified.

“My comportment teacher.”

“You talked about sex etiquette in comportment?” Magnus couldn’t fathom that discussion or the reason for it. It made his brain hurt, among other things.

“So I didn’t embarrass or shame my family.” Her voice took on a prim and proper affectation.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake.” She nodded.

“Don’t you want to wait until this love thing happens that you’re so keen on?”

She laughed. “No. I want this. I want you.”

5

Mercy couldn’t believe what she’d just said, but she didn’t want to take it back. It seemed like all the things in the ‘verse had lined up to put her in this particular moment in time, with this man.

And it was exactly where she wanted to be.

He was everything she could have dreamed: fierce and strong when he had to be, intelligent, witty, and kind. He was gentle with her. He treated her like his equal even though he was stronger, faster, and probably smarter. He listened to what she had to say.

Magnus believed in her. She’d never had that before.

Then, of course, there was the part where he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

She wondered for a brief moment if the reason he kept putting her off was that maybe he didn’t want her.

No, no. He wouldn’t have that reaction to kissing her if he didn’t want her.

Maybe she’d been too forward? Too brash?

If he was determined that she was more Valkyrie than the meek Odinsdottir, then maybe she was. Mercy found her voice. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to be a regret.”

That was the last answer she’d ever expected from him. She thought he might have said all manner of things, but it never occurred to him he could think he’d be a regret, or it would register in his world. He was so unlike any male she’d ever known. “You won’t. Having not asked you would’ve been the regret.”

He pulled her on top of him and she squealed. “What are you doing?”

“What you asked.”

“It doesn’t work like this.” But maybe it should. She felt so powerful, like she was the one in control.

He arched a brow. “Oh no? And who here has engaged in said activity and who has not?”

“I… I’m really sure it doesn’t work this way.”

“Do you like how it feels?”

“Yes.”

“Then this is how it works.” A smile curved his hard mouth, and the expression was almost like she was some small mammal that had done something cute.

She pursed her lips.

“You’ll see. Kiss me.”

She definitely wanted to kiss him. She always wanted to kiss him. She wondered briefly is his mouth was like some kind of opiate that once she’d had a taste, she’d always need more.

Mercy liked having him beneath her. She knew he was there by choice, but some of her tutors had made it sound like sex was something ugly and terrifying. That the male of the species morphed into some raging, uncontrollable rutting beast.

Magnus was large, suitably alpha male, and he definitely had the beserker in his blood. So either they were full of interstellar crap, or she just didn’t inspire that kind of reaction in him.

“I don’t know what’s going through your head, fire-hair, but how about you stop thinking and do this. Unless you changed your mind.”

She grinned. “No, I didn’t change my mind.”

Mercy leaned down and pressed her lips to his. She found her body knew what it wanted even if her brain did not. She’d shifted on top of him, rolling her hips against his, grinding her cleft against his hard cock. It sent little shockwaves of pleasure deep into her belly.

With his tongue in the hot cavern of her mouth, she knew their kiss imitated what would happen between them, his cock pushing deep inside of her. She shivered in expectation as the pressure built between her thighs.

When his hands slid up beneath her shirt, she grabbed his wrists and he allowed her to put his hands above his head.

“No. You said this is how it works. I’m on top, so I’m in charge.”

“As the lady wishes.”

She returned the caress, pushing under the tech shirt. Mercy liked the leather armor he’d been wearing before much better. But this was easier to get off. She slid down his body, using her teeth to peel the shirt up over his hard-muscled body.

He helped her to pull it over his head.

She’d always thought taking clothes off another person had to be extremely awkward, but this wasn’t strange at all.

Mercy thought about all the things she’d fantasized doing to him, or having him do to her, and here he was, spread out before her like a buffet. She wondered how far he’d let her go before he made her stop. There was part of her that rather imagined he’d let her do anything that she said turned her on. That was a heady rush, indeed.

She took he time exploring him, trying desperately to ignore the hot need that made her grind against him like the most shameless of creatures.

Mercy touched her lips to his throat and down over the wide expanse of his shoulder, then back to his chest. It was so warm and hard—she didn’t know how his skin could be soft, but the muscle under it like steel.

She ventured further down, down to where his obliques teased her and she dared to pull off the tech trousers. Her cheek brushed against his erection and she pulled them down his body, also with her teeth. His body stiffened at the contact and a small growl rumbled in the back of his throat. She loved that sound and she definitely wanted to make him do it again.

Mercy studied him intently, the way his cock jutted out from his body. It was thick, with a wide-girth and it seemed to be watching her back. When she closed in on it, it jerked with the stimulation of her breath on the head.

She thought about the forbidden books she’d read and the descriptions of what to do with such a beast. Mercy dipped her head and touched her lips to the town, causing him to growl again.

Oh yes, this was exactly what she wanted to be doing.

Mercy took him into her mouth; that was when his hand tangled in her hair. She pulled back. “Who said it was your turn to touch?”

“You’re killing me, Valkyrie.”

“And it will be a good death, Berserker.” She dipped her head again, taking him as deeply as she could.

She was rewarded with another growl that resonated deep inside of her.

When his hand tangled in her hair again, she didn’t tell him no. Instead, she allowed him to guide her, learned what he liked as his hips jerked up to meet her caress. She tasted all of him, her tongue lapping at him as she experimented.

Until finally, she found herself on her back, the great beast of a man over her and a kind of madness in his eyes. It was the same look on his face when he’d been frozen. This was what her tutors meant, but she wasn’t afraid.

“I’m going to devour you, Valkyrie.”

Did he mean he was going to do to her…

The first touch of his tongue made her gasp, but his powerful grip anchored her in place. She could squirm neither closer, nor farther away from the decadent torture of his mouth. It was just so much sensation—so intense.

It was too much, but at the same time, not enough. She wanted more and she suddenly understood why his hand had been tangled in her hair. She wanted to push her fingers through his and push him nearer his work, use his hair like nav…

“Be as loud as you like. There’s no one to hear you at the moment.”

She realized she’d been biting her lip to keep back her moans and it seemed so wrong to just—

“I want to hear you. I want to know what feels good.”

“That, do that!” She cried when he laved at her again.

The bristle of his day old scruff scratched against her thigh and she found she liked the contrast of the slight edge of discomfort along with the bliss. She lifted her hips and squirmed to meet him.

Friction warred with the build of something she couldn’t explain, but she knew if she didn’t find the pinnacle soon, she was going to die. It was as if the whole of the ‘verse had been compressed inside of her and was waiting to explode. She’d be nothing but stars and ash, but as she’d told him before, it would be a good death.

“You taste like peaches,” he mumbled against her, sounding almost as if he were drunk on the taste of her.

“It’s the implant.”

“Oh thank the gods.” He looked up from his work. “I was wondering how we were going to do this without any form of birth control.”

“Had the implant since my cycle started. My mother insisted. Stop talking. Keep doing… that.” She moaned.

He descended, treating her body like a battleground. He pursued her pleasure with the same intensity and ferocity he would track an enemy. The thought thrilled her and did as much to push her higher as the motion of his tongue.

Then, he eased on finger inside of her.

The sensation was forbidden, delightful, and there was an edge of fear in the back of her mind. That single digit stretched her, working back and forth gently spreading her wider each time.

If only one finger made her feel so full, how was she ever going to take his cock. It gave her a naughty little thrill to even think the word.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he increased the tempo and intensity of his motions, pushing all thoughts but sweet release out of her head.

Her earlier comparison to a universe that had been distilled to sensation under her skin was apt, because when it exploded it was as if the ‘verse disappeared and reformed—all stardust and light.

Magnus rose above her, the length of his hair shadowing his handsome face like a curtain.

Without speaking, he was asking her if she still wanted him. She put her hand on his cheek, and he took linked their fingers together.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and he paused, looking into the depths of her eyes. He dipped his head, and she thought that he was going to kiss her, but instead rested his forehead against hers and held her gaze while he drove home.

Mercy gasped at the shock of pain, but it began to ebb just as it had begun and those galaxies behind her eyes flared again, only they weren’t just behind her eyes, they were in his too.

He moved slowly at first, allowing her body to learn to accommodate him. Only after he’d established a rhythm did lean down and kiss her again.

This kiss was so much different than all of the others. This kiss was the final link in their connection, something that seemed to make their symbiosis whole. He drove into her, lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and she found that same intensity building inside of her all over again.

No matter what happened, she was thankful for this moment, with this man.

And as she reached her pinnacle again, the small flame that burned in a hidden place in her soul roared to life. It devoured guilt and fear. Where it was frozen melted, where it was dark, that flame brought life.

For Magnus the Destroyer was right.

Mercy Odinsdottir was a Valkyrie born who’d just come into her own.

6

Magnus knew the moment it happened.

She was already beautiful, but this beauty now, it was preternatural. Her hair was silkier, her skin impossibly smooth, and her eyes—gods, her eyes. He could see eternity there. Past, present, and all the ages to come.

He belonged to her—her name was tattooed on his bones. An eon from now, when future beings were digging up his remains, it would be there and they would wonder if it was some ancient death ritual. But it was a life ritual.

They were bound forever and he did not regret it.

She said that he would love her, but this was so much more than what could ever be encased by four letters and a single word.

“Is it always like is?”

“I fucking hope so.” He gathered her close.

“I think I knew you were mine for the moment I saw you.”

“Did you, now?” he teased.

“Maybe. I wasn’t usually in the habit of touching strange men.”

Part of him wanted to respond with, “And nor should you be.” But that was just wanting to claim her, to mark her. Only, he wasn’t a dog. He didn’t need to piss all over his territory to know she was his.

No, instead, he’d just fuck her again. He’d let the pleasure he gave her do the marking.

“Why don’t we try out your hot spring?”

“Is that a sex thing?” She crinkled her nose.

“It can be.” He grinned. “No, the warm pool without the lights. It’ll be soothe you.”

“I’ll race you.” She hopped up and darted fearlessly out into the chill air.

He followed behind, watching her. He figured if she’d stared at him, it was only fair. Magnus liked watching her walk, liked the sleek lines of her body as she ran. With his flesh, form followed function, but with hers, it was art. It was sheer beauty.

As he followed her to the hot spring, it occurred to him that now any vengeance he’d seek against Rollo, against her father, it would involve her as well. When he went to battle, so would his Valkyrie.

Could he do that to her?

His fingers curled into fists. Could he let Rollo’s trespass slide for her? Could he allow the decimation of a people with no reprisal to save her?

He didn’t think he could.

If he’d known she was his Valkyrie—he cut the thought of. He’d have what? Not taken this moment? He could no more have changed what happened between them than he could turn the path of a comet.

Their joining was like lightning and thunder, there was no stopping it, no directing the path. It could only be endured.

But like lightning, it was wild and beautiful all the same.

He slid into the strangely warm, glowing purple waters. The darkness around them was surreal, but right.

She climbed onto his lap and his cock was ready for her again. “I’m sore, but can we do this again? Like this?”

He knew she’d liked topping him and as for his own feelings on the matter, what Viking didn’t like to be ridden by his Valkyrie.

“Take your pleasure, if you want it.”

She buried her face in his neck and shifted her hips until she’d impaled herself on his shaft. Mercy cried out and tangled her fist in his hair. He liked the sharp sensation when she pulled, but held back from seeking his own pleasure.

His duty, and his ultimate desire, was to see her find her bliss first.

“It hurts, but it’s still good,” she managed in a breathy little whisper.

“We can wait…”

“No, we can’t. I need to feel it now.” She threw her head back, her little nails digging into his shoulders, and her hair, a wet banner down her back.

He understood her need—there were so many things he wanted to experience with her, about her, it was as if the ‘verse couldn’t contain the width and breadth of it. Magnus hadn’t expected this connection, or the power it had over him.

Magnus wanted to protect her, but there was part of him that wanted to break her, too. If he broke her, he could get it over with. He could sever that tie between them and he’d never have to know fear again. But he didn’t want that either.

He was hers.

She was his.

And it was so fucking good.

Mercy dragged her cheek against his, almost as if she were rubbing her scent on him like a cat. She found his mouth, her lips hungry and desperate.

“I keep thinking,” she gasped “that I’m going to wake up and this won’t be real.”

He clutched her tighter, nipped at her neck. “Does that feel real?”

“No, it’s too good.”

Her nails dug in deeper and he realized she was close, so he allowed himself to match her pace, allowed his own need to spiral and they peaked together.

When the storm had passed, she stayed astride him, clinging to him. “I want to stay here forever.”

Only that wasn’t to be. Suddenly, a bright light shone down into his face and the sound of engines roared in his ears.

Mercy shrieked.

“Inside the shelter,” he commanded.

She scrambled to obey and he followed suit, quickly pulling on the tech gear and grabbing the war hammer.

The ship was smaller than it looked, though it melted the ice where it landed and as it did, the Valkyrie lights faded and the orbs deployed, giving the landscape a faux daylight.

They were about to meet whoever wanted them here.

He raised the hammer.

Stairs unfolded from the bay doors and a woman in black strode down toward them with purpose. She was Valkyrie tall, much like Mercy with laser guns strapped to her hips and thighs. The badge on her breastplate gleamed in the light and her hair… it was her hair that got him.

It was blood red. Just like Mercy’s.

“I see you got my message, Berserker.” She smirked. “Although a bit early. You’re lucky the homing beacon activated or you would’ve been stuck her for a good long while.”

“Early? Just who the hell are you?”

Mercy stepped out from behind him, shivering even though she was dressed in the tech suit. Her eyes were wide, and full—brimming with unshed tears.

“He told me you were dead,” she breathed.

“The Insterstellar Commission told him I was dead.” She held open her arms and Mercy flung herself into the woman’s arms.

This was the great Valkyrie Eir—Mercy’s supposedly dead mother.

There was a moment when he feared for his balls, and he was not ashamed. Her name was spoken with reverence and fear throughout the ‘verse. There was no star system that did not know of her great deeds. She would live on forever in the tales told of her labors.

“Why?” Mercy asked.

He felt her fear, her joy, and even the sense of betrayal that she wanted to keep hidden deep down where no one could see. Magnus kept to himself, though he wanted to comfort her. Maybe Eir had planned on him saving her daughter, but she might not have planned on their bond. In fact, how could she?

“I see the fire in your eyes. You two have the bond.” She smiled. “For that, I am glad. You are the one I chose for her.”

He raised a brow.

“The Grandmother cast the runes when Mercy was born. I knew you would be the one to unleash her Valkyrie.” Eir nodded. “She will do great things. As will you. Come.”

He was still wary.

“As you like it, Berserker. Bring your hammer, if it suits you.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Mercy said.

“I’ll explain it to you over some honey mead and bread,” Eir began to lead her up the stairs.

Magnus could be on board for mead, warm bread and of course, where Mercy went, he would follow. As it must be.

While he was grateful that their benefactor seemed to indeed be an ally, and he was glad to be getting off that no-name rock, he wondered what he ulterior motives were and how he was going to deal with those other big questions.

Like revenge.

Justice.

Honor.

What those things meant to him now that he had a Valkyrie of his own.

Magnus was content to stay still and observe mother and daughter as they spoke, as they drank the mead. But she hadn’t answered Mercy’s questions. Not really.

And he too wanted answers.

When there was a lull in conversation he spoke. “You never really answered Mercy’s questions about why the world was supposed to think you were dead.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t.”

“I think you should.”

“It’s classified.” The Valkyrie lifted her chin. “Suffice to say, I made my sacrifices and now you’ll be called upon to make yours.”

“You don’t think I’ve made sacrifices, Eir?”

“No.” Her all-seeing eyes told him that she did. “I know you have. And I know you must again.”

“How did you know I’d be on Hel?”

“Because I’m the one who told Odin to capture you.”

Fury boiled and his fingers tightened into fists. The Berserker part of him flared to brutish life, but he forced it back down like bile. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I will not ask your forgiveness. And maybe in time you come to thank me.”

“Why would I ever do that?” He tried not to snarl.

“Because I knew that even frozen, when Mercy’s need was dire, you’d awaken and protect her.”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in an old woman and her runes.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes it is. But it’s all I had. And you did save her. You brought her to me.”

“I thought we were going to die down there,” he confessed.

“Yet, you knew somehow, that it would be okay.”

She was right, but that didn’t make her cloak and dagger bullshit any easier to live with.

“Why would you leave Mercy with such a man? You could’ve made arrangements.”

“No, as long as Odin found her useful, she was safer there.”

“Do you know what awakened me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was by sheer luck that I was already awake with Fenris would’ve raped her.”

Eir’s expression melted into a mask of fear, fear that was too late to have been of any use. “But you were there, Destroyer.” She reached out a battle-scarred hand and covered his own. “I think you have half-earned that name from the words you speak as well as the war hammer you swing.”

“You may be right,” he acquiesced. Magnus had meant to cut her with his words, but then felt a twinge of guilt for doing so. It seemed like she’d never thought about any of the things that could go wrong, that she’d painted up some pretty dance in her head.

Yet, he wondered if he’d been faced with the same choices if he’d have focused on all the good things that could’ve happened or all the bad?

But focusing on something doesn’t make a thing any more or less true. A think is what is, regardless of how they felt about it.

He was done berating her though, so he switched subjects. “Does your mission involve Rollo?”

“That I can tell you. Yes, it does. I have been undercover in his household since you’ve been frozen. The Insterstellar Commission doesn’t want him as King of Saxony any more than you do.”

“Your daughter said I should kill him.”

Eir cast a startled glance at Mercy. “Indeed? Would you pull the trigger?”

“I never said it was easy. But he’s horrible. He hurts people and he’ll hurt more people.”

“You could say that about half the ‘verse. What makes him so special? And who are you to judge?” Eir gently reprimanded her.

Mercy straightened, eyes flashing and her Valkyrie power showed itself. “I am a Valkyrie. It’s my duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“By aiming your Berserker like a gun? If you think a man should lose his life, then you should be the one to take it. Carry out the sentence you hand down, my daughter.”

“Fine. Teach me how to use that gun.”

Magnus closed his eyes. “That is not the right answer.”

“Isn’t it?” Eir cocked her head to the side. “If you’re not willing to give up your pursuit of vengeance, you’re dragging her into it. And if you put her in the middle of a war, shouldn’t she know how to defend herself?”

“I hadn’t decided.”

“So now it’s up to you to decide her future?”

“Isn’t it?” he threw the words back at her. “You put that on me when you asked me to choose between justice and Mercy.”

“There can be no justice without mercy. It takes a strong man to deliver both.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think it is. And you’ll see that as well, in time.”

“I think you two are forgetting that neither one of you will decide my future. I will. If I wish to learn how to use a gun, I will. If I choose to kill a man that needs killing, I will. And if I choose Magnus’s vengeance to deliver justice for a whole murdered tribe—I am a Valkyrie—and I will choose it.”

The walls of the ship resonated with her words.

Magnus couldn’t have been more proud and displeased at the same moment. The things that he admired in her were the things that he couldn’t protect her from. He couldn’t protect her from herself—from making her own choices.

But if he chose to let Rollo go and ended up living on some sweet environed planet with waterfalls and beaches, and green for miles, could his stand to live with the guilt for letting Boudicea’s killer go free? Could he stand to look in the eyes of his children and meet their gazes knowing he’d walked away from punishing Rollo?

Or worse, could he look in their eyes knowing it was his fault—that he put some ideal before their mother and that’s why she was dead?

Mercy put her hand on his shoulder. “Stop it.”

He found that he couldn’t meet her eyes, much like the imaginary children he’d conjured who wore her face.

“He’s a blight on the ‘verse, Magnus. You wouldn’t hunt him if he didn’t have it coming.”

But Mercy, did she deserve what this could mean?

“What if I told you that the Commission would see it done? What do you think I’ve been doing with these years of my life? I will end him. But I can’t make him a martyr. These scum are all hydra. You cut off one head, many grow strong to claim the rubble. It takes time.”

“I should let someone else fight my battles?” He bristled at the thought.

“No, but maybe it’s not only your battle. He’s hurt so many. You don’t have to be the hero,” Eir said.

“I am no hero, never wanted to be. If I was a hero, I would’ve saved the Acadians.”

“You were just a boy.”

“I was a Berserker full grown,” he corrected her.

“Barely away from your mother’s house,” Eir added gently. “You have much to think on together. I’ll show you to your quarters. We have a few hours before we reach Lycaos Four.”

7

Her whole world had just come undone and rebuilt itself.

Her mother was alive.

She’d come for her.

Mercy had so many questions, but it seemed like she was unwilling to answer even the slightest. Then it occurred to her that maybe it was simply too hard to speak of. Valkyries were strong, but their intensity applied to more than just battle. They felt everything keenly, much like the Berserkers did.

She tried to imagine what it must’ve been like to make that choice, to leave her child. She couldn’t fathom it, and even though Mercy knew it wasn’t the case, she felt like maybe she was somehow unworthy. That’s why her mother left her—she didn’t want her.

But she knew Eir loved her.

Mercy remembered one of their last trips to a reserve planet together before her “death.” Eir cried, told her again and again how much she loved her and to never forget. Her mother must have known then that she was leaving.

She thought about what Magnus said about Rollo.

Her mother had made the right choice, but it wasn’t one that Mercy thought she’d be capable of making.

Magnus spoke first when they were alone in their quarters. “I don’t know what to do here.”

“We’ll go to Lycaos Four and then decide.”

“Lycaos Four. Where it’s all sunshine and greenery. The perfect setting for happily ever after and Mercy, I just don’t know if I can do it.”

“We’ll decide together.”

“That’s the thing. I can’t stand the thought of you facing down a pig like Rollo. You have the heart of a Valkyrie, but you don’t have the skills. You haven’t been trained.”

“So train me.”

“He’s been on borrowed breath for fifteen years.”

“So what’s one more? That someone else will kill him instead of you?”

“Yes, godsdamnit. Why shouldn’t I be the one to kill him? Why shouldn’t I be the one to watch the light go out in his eyes with the knowledge that I was the one who snuffed it? Why not?” he snarled.

“Because you want it too much.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You want it so bad that you can taste it. He’ll use your emotion against you. Even I know that.”

“And what do you think he’d do to you? How am I supposed to concentrate when I’m worried about you?”

“With you to teach me, why should you worry?” She eased down next to him. “I’m not really a Valkyrie yet, am I? For all my talk, I’m not a complement to your power. I’m a hindrance.” She looked down at her hands. “I was just thinking earlier about the last time I was with my mother.”

Mercy waited for him to be exasperated with her that she’d changed the subject, but he listened as if what she had to say was important. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that.

“We went to a reserve planet, you know, where they have all kinds of animals in habitats from many systems? The earth one resonated with me the most. It stuck in my head. There were these great predatory cats, sleek and larger than a man.”

“Mercy—”

“No, let me finish. The way they would hunt. They would follow the tribe of gazelles, this springy-footed creatures, quick, tasty. They would watch and see who the slow ones were, the sick, and they’d quickly cut them off from the herd.”

“You’re not a gazelle.”

“I am. I’m the slow one that’s lagging behind. But that’s okay.” She nodded. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” She looked up at him, watching his face for signs of rejection, or to see if his expression was a closed mask as he waited for her to finish.

Again, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

“We make sure the ‘verse knows what happened to me. There will be a big fuss made until Odin can hide me away again. That is, if he survived the riot on Holle and Hel. Rollo will want to be part of that.”

“That could be genius.”

“I really wish my mother would tell me what the Commission’s plans were. If we could be sure.”

“The Commission is made up of politicians. They’ve had fifteen years to handle Rollo. We’ll take care of him.”

“I like that you said we. I really thought you were going to tell me to stay out of it.”

“I’d like nothing better. But you were right earlier. I can’t make those choices for you, even if I don’t like them.”

“Have you ever been to Lycaos Four?”

“No, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

“I don’t know if anything will be as lovely as our purple pool.” She grinned.

“It could be that same kind of lovely right here, right now.” He pulled her close, but then grimaced. “Actually, since it’s been fifteen years, I might need a few more hours to recuperate.”

She laughed. “Good. I was just thinking I’d love to do it again. Later.”

“How about I just hold you?”

“I think one of my tutors said that men would use that to get me into bed.”

“I’ve already got you in bed, so that kind of negates that.”

“Hmm, I suppose.” But she was content to lean into him, to let him close his arms around her and block out the world. “Whatever happens, I’m not sorry.” She didn’t just mean him holding her in this moment, she meant all of it and she wanted him to know.

“No, me either.”

She must’ve slept after that because it seemed like only a few seconds later when the pre-landing alarm sounded. They’d arrived at Lycaos Four.

Mercy quickly righted herself and met her mother in the main part of the ship, with Magnus not far behind.

“When next you see me, you may not recognize me. But I’ll be there,” Eir said.

“You’re not coming with us?” Mercy hated how weak and needy she sounded, but she’d only just found her mother and now she was leaving her again.

“Oh honey, I can’t. Eir is supposed to be dead, remember? I jeopardized not only my cover, but the mission as well. I have to get back to Rollo. But I’ve arranged transport and accommodations.”

“For how long?” Mercy asked quietly and Magnus’s warmth at her back bolstered her.

“For always.” Her mother touched her face.

“You know that’s not what I meant. When will you come back?”

“When I can.” Eir’s eyes were wide, tremulous, but her mouth was set in a grim line. “When I’ve done what I said I would do. I love you, Mercy.”

“Mama,” she whispered.

Eir pulled her into a fierce hug, and to Magnus she said, “You take care of her, do you hear me? And let her take care of you. Think about that before you leave this planet to go charging after revenge. There’s a reason the ancients said it was a dish best served cold.”

She was determined not to cry. Finding out that her mother was alive was a gift. Mercy was determined not to lament such a joyous thing, even if it meant saying goodbye again. She remembered what her mother had told her that last day at the reserve planet.

“Goodbye is not forever.” She hugged her tight.

“Until we meet again, Mercy.”

When the stairs deployed, Magnus took her hand and led her down toward the light.

The first thing she noticed was how bright everything was—even more so than she remembered. The red sun burned high in the sky, supporting all manner of blooming plant life. In fact, the hangar where they’d landed seemed so out of place. It was a harsh, sharp structure that cut through the landscape. It seemed like a terrible blight.

Whispers rustled through the crowd like crinkling of old, forbidden paper. “The Destroyer.”

Of course they knew who he was, but she supposed it was just as well the people didn’t know her.

She wondered if her father was even looking for them, and if he was, if he cared what happened to her or if he only wanted his assets back.

She wished for the first, but assumed the latter.

Mercy shook her head. She’d left that life behind. This was something new—these people before her were people her mother trusted. They wore simple clothes, the men in plain togas, the women in white dresses. Some wore silver jewelry, armlets that seem to serve as both adornment and armor.

Magnus’s fingers tightened around hers and she felt the waves of emotion that crashed over him.

She realized they knew him because they were Acadians.

Mercy thought about what must be her mother’s grand plan and how meticulously all of the events had to have been orchestrated to get them to this moment. Or how many things had happened by sheer, dumb luck.

The people were bowing down to him.

“No, stop.” His voice broke and then it was Magnus the Destroyer who went down on one knee.

Mercy might have hated them in that moment—the Acadians. She knew without him telling her that this had made the choice for them. Vengeance above all else. She didn’t begrudge him justice, in fact, she’d encouraged him to kill Rollo, but for a single moment she imagined them living quietly here.

A cabin by some lake, surrounded by warmth and green and growing things. Fields upon fields, open and wide.

But she’d forgotten that Valkyries did not live quiet lives.

They lived hard, they lived fast, and burned to ash.

She looked at Magnus and realized that while the quiet life seemed pretty because it was safe, it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Magnus—all of him.

And that included the hard things, the ugly things. The things she feared. But she realized she’d rather burn out with him than ever go back to the life she had on Hel.

Mercy would do everything she’d said she would. She would learn to shoot, to fight, she’d be an asset to Magnus rather than the wilting flower that needed protection.

A woman approached, a priestess of some sort. She bore a crown. “May I?” she asked Mercy in the common tongue.

She tried to imagine her father waiting on a woman’s permission for anything. That would happen when the sun shone in the Great Dark. Mercy nodded to the woman and she placed the crown atop Magnus’s golden head.

In truth, it looked so right. He was King of the Acadians—small population though they may be, they were his people.

Now hers.

“And you? Will you accept your crown, Mercy, daughter of Eir, Valkyrie to the Destroyer?” the woman asked her.

Emotion welled thick in her throat. She’d been raised to be a leader’s wife, not to lead herself.

Magnus took her hand and she bowed her head.

She didn’t expect the crowd to cheer.

She didn’t expect this to feel so right.

Most of all, Mercy didn’t expect to belong.

The crown was a slight thing, simple, but lovely. Yet it weighed heavy on her brow.

The woman led them both through the throng of people to a conveyance and then she spoke again. “You don’t know how long we’ve waited for you, Magnus.”

“I’m sure I do.” He nodded.

“We’d heard you were imprisoned on Hel.”

“Yes.” He didn’t offer any further explanation.

“My name is Anae. I know you don’t remember me, but I brought you into the world, Destroyer.” She turned to look at Mercy. “It’s such a transformation seeing them go from fat-cheeked darlings to… that.” She offered a kind smile.

Yes, looking at Magnus it was hard to think that he had ever been small, helpless, or round-cheeked.

He arched a brow as if daring her to visualize it, but then his expression melted into one of seriousness. “Tell me, how did you come to be here? And how did Rollo not know of it?”

“With you captured, he left us in peace.”

“And when he gets word of my return, there will be war.”

“Yes.” Anae nodded. “But it is a war we’re ready for. We knew you’d return and avenge Boudicea. We prepared for your coming when we heard about what happened on Hel.”

“There’s news of Hel?” Mercy interrupted.

“Oh yes. It’s been all over the ‘verse.” Anae pushed a few buttons and a screen slipped down from the ceiling.

“Breaking news,” a voice said. “When following up on an SOS dispatch from prison planet Hel in the Asgard system, Interstellar Commission officers found this.”

And there, on the screen, was nothing but fire. A planet, engulfed in flames.

“The last transmission from Hel shows that a global riot had overtaken the planet and steps were taken for containment. Hel All-Father, Warden Lokison was on Holle when it happened and Stigurrson Brie is on the evac site with him now.”

She was torn between being glad he was still alive and wondering just how things would’ve gone down if Magnus hadn’t taken her. Would she have been among the casualties? She waited with baited breath to see if he mentioned her or Magnus.

Odin Lokison wore a proper mask of severity and empathy when he faced the reporter. Yet, for all of the struggle and the horror, his hair was perfect. Not a strand out of place. His Galaxy Corrections uniform perfectly starched and smooth.

“All I can say is that our hearts are with the families of those officers lost.”

“What about the families of the incarcerated?” Brie asked.

“Of course. It was a tragic loss of life.”

“Then why did you elect that course of action?”

“It was the only humane thing to do. A militant group within the population seized control. If they were to get off-planet, the devastation would have been galaxy wide event.”

“It’s rumored that your own daughter was still on Hel when you deployed the containment measures,” Brie said conversationally.

He stopped then and stared in to the camera, and it felt almost as if he was looking right at her, that he knew she was watching. “Yes, she was. And as I’ve said, it was a kindness.”

Her heart twisted in on itself and for the first time, Mercy felt like an orphan. It was one think to suspect her father had no use for her, even to know it in her bones, it was quite another to hear him said it on galactic television.

“We’ve had reports that she may have made it to safety, assisted by the notorious Magnus the Destroyer. Is that possible?” Brie asked.

She saw the blade of his jaw clench so tightly it looked like a knot. “No, it isn’t. As much as I wish it was. It’s unkind to offer false hope of anyone’s survival. The containment protocol is designed to eliminate all threats and with it, all life.”

He was warning her to stay dead. He knew she was alive, and didn’t care. No, didn’t want her to be alive. She was more useful to him now dead.

It begged the question why Eir had left her with him. There had to be more to it than engineering proximity to Magnus.

“Fuck him and the six-legged horse he rode in on. The man is not worth the breath it would take to grieve him,” Magnus growled and pulled her against him.

Maybe he wasn’t worth the breath it would take to rail against her pain, but that didn’t change the fact that he was her father and she’d admired him and loved him like all little girls and their daddies.

She tried so hard to please him and she couldn’t get past that place in her head that said she wasn’t good enough. There was something wrong with her, that’s why he didn’t—couldn’t— love her.

“You have me, Valkyrie. That’s all you need.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

Anae held her hand. “One of the ancients said to be careful hunting monsters, lest you become one. I think that is what happened in the case of Odin Lokison. He has become a monster to keep monsters. Do you understand?”

Mercy nodded. They were saying all the right things, but there no words in the ‘verse that could ease this ache.

8

Magnus had a hole inside him where Mercy’s pain lived. He knew that she wasn’t comforted by his words and that the only thing that could fix this was time.

Or for All-Father Lokison to not be the giant asshole he appeared to be, but that was as likely as Rollo begging his forgiveness.

He looked up and saw Anae watching him and something about her regard was wholly unsettling. Perhaps it was because she was a priestess. He’d never had much use for them. They handed down edicts, and wove the thread of fates, but they did not fight like other Valkyrie.

Perhaps his resentment was simply that he blamed her, and himself for his mother’s death. It was much easier to channel it everywhere else but at himself and look at his own failings.

He thought about what Eir had said, that he was just a boy.

Even so, he was a man—a Berserker—now.

“We’re almost there,” Anae said. “The palace at Gylf is beautiful this time of year. You’ll have some time to settle in before the advisors arrive.”

When the conveyance stopped, it was in front of a white-pillared grand creature that stood much more in keeping with the natural beauty of its surroundings. And he saw why Eir had chosen that spot by the water—it was reminiscent of this place. A pale, lavender ocean lapped at pink sand just beyond the palace. The scents of blooming flowers tangled and twisted in a pleasing way to ease the tension from his neck and the slight breeze that ruffled his hair was like a welcome home.

Anae led them inside and to a room that overlooked that lavender sea. Long white curtains billowed at the doorway, dancing in the sea breeze and he imagined what lay beyond the waters. Were there other strange lands with new sands? He longed to build a ship and sail toward the horizon like his ancestors had in days of yore on earth.

“There is fresh produce and ration packs for your consumption. The royal chef will come with the advisors. I have much to do before they arrive.” Anae kissed both their cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

As soon as Anae was gone, Mercy pulled off the crown and set it down on a nearby table with a careful reverence.

“I suppose it’s unkind, but I don’t really like her.”

“Priestesses have never been my favorite people.” The golden crown on his own head felt like a lie and he followed suit and removed it.

“Me either. Pompous and pushy.” She wrinkled her nose.

He laughed and drew her near.

“Although I did like that she asked my permission before crowning you.”

“That’s how it is in Valkyrie society. I keep forgetting that you weren’t raised that way.”

“I wonder how my mother and Odin ever…” she shook her head. “I think she’d have been miserable.” Mercy shrugged. “Him too, most likely.”

Magnus leaned his head against her heart. “I don’t think we’re safe here.”

“I don’t think we’re safe anywhere.”

“It’s just, it was too easy. I know Eir meant well, but something just feels off.”

“Our welcoming did seem a bit showy for last minute,” she sighed. “Maybe it’s okay that we’re not safe. Maybe being here will cause our enemies to strike and we can defeat them in the light, for the whole ‘verse to see.”

His arms tightened around her and even though she knew what he was going to ask next, it was still a shock to her system when he said the words.

“Even if that enemy is your father?”

“He will always be my father and I hope you understand that when he is gone, I will mourn the loss of my father. But I won’t blame you. Not if he comes after us.”

“And Rollo?”

“We’ll just have to hope we can meet him on our own terms.”

“What your mother said—”

“I choose you.”

He lifted his head. “What?”

“Whatever happens. I choose you. We’re not going to hide from him and hope he doesn’t come steal our happiness. And even though it’s only been a short time, I know you like I know myself. I guess it’s the Valkyrie/Berserker bond or something, but I know you’d never be happy, never be able to breathe while he lived.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” She pushed her hands through his hair.

“For not asking me to choose, because I would choose you, Mercy.”

His grip was so tight, it was almost pain, but she didn’t move. It was as if he were trying to anchor her there, or maybe it was himself.

“A Valkyrie worth her salt wouldn’t ask you to.”

“No, but maybe a smart woman would,” a voice sounded from the door.

Mercy had had just about enough of surprises, but unlike when she’d be alone with Fenris, she wasn’t afraid. And it wasn’t only because Magnus was with her. She wasn’t afraid because there was nothing he could do to her now that mattered. She’d finally found her own place in the ‘verse, her own purpose.

Rollo, the bastard who would be king, couldn’t take that away from her.

He stood like some melodrama villain, dressed in a black tech suit—mech wings spread out behind his shoulders, and the black forest of his hair hanging down over his pale brow.

“You just killed yourself,” Mercy said. “You’re dead and you don’t even know it.”

His eyes slid to her, and they reminded her of the Great Dark. No light. No hope. Endless nothing. “You’ll be an interesting addition to my harem. I’ll put you in a cage with my other Valkyrie. Maybe I’ll let you fight to the death for the honor.”

She snarled.

“I like that fire. You didn’t have that last time I was on Hel. I would’ve accepted when your father gave you—”

Magnus cut him off with the deadly song of his war hammer. He swung the beast through the air in a killing arc, but Rollo, for all his theatrics was a hardened warrior. He would’ve had to have been t have defeated Boudicea—and he met the blow with one of his own.

The clash of war hammers echoed throughout the great white-pillared halls.

But Mercy wouldn’t be just an observer to this battle. She was engaged with a cool hand closed around her throat from behind.

She had no training, but that something that flowed hot and volcanic through her blood spurred to life and guided her movements. She grabbed the woman’s wrist and used her own body to leverage the other woman so that Mercy threw her forward and evened the playing field.

Anae scrambled to her feet and produced a thin silver blade from her armlet. “Time to die, princess.”

Mercy didn’t bother to respond. She didn’t need to threaten the other woman, didn’t need to enumerate the ways in which she would dis-articulate all her moving joints—no. Mercy was about action, not promises.

It didn’t matter why Anae had joined with Rollo, it didn’t matter what her evil plan was, all that mattered was that Mercy knew that she’d learn what it meant to take a life.

There was a moment when it seemed as if time stopped, everything had slowed down as if they were all moving through anti-gravity. Her vision narrowed and all she could see was the priestess’s neck, her thin blue veins under the ivory skin, so fragile.

So breakable.

The priestess drew her blade, held it high and launched herself at her opponent.

Mercy saw her coming in slow motion, her muscles and ligaments moved without any conscious instruction and her left fist extended with so much force, bolstered by Magnus’s strength, that she punched through the Anae’s throat.

In one fluid motion, she dropped the priestess, caught the silver blade and spun through the air, her body guided by instinct, passion, and the connection to her Berserker.

She put that silver blade through the back of Rollo’s head and he dropped like a stone.

And Mercy ducked just in time to avoid losing her own head to Magnus’s war hammer.

The look of horror on his face told her just how close she’d come. The war hammer dropped from his hand and instead, his arms were full of her.

“Sweet fucking Valhalla, what the hell were you thinking?”

She clung to him, unmindful of the blood and sweat on them both.

“I wasn’t thinking. I was being a Valkyrie.”

“You are certainly Eir’s daughter.”

“Mercy Eirsdottir. I like it.”

“Then wear it. You’ve earned it.” He kissed her hard.

“You’re not angry I took your change at vengeance?”

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters. That’s all that’s ever mattered.”

“You say the prettiest things, Berserker.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got other uses for my mouth.”

“That, I do. And I intend to work you hard, once we’re somewhere safe.”

“And where is safe, do you think, Mercy?”

“Is that your way of saying you want to stay here?” She put her hand on his cheek.

“The Acadians are my people. Your people. You’d be a queen.”

“My father raised me for a life in politics. I could do worse.” She shrugged. “We’ll have to get a contingent of soldiers here until we root out all of Rollo’s supporters.”

“And here you thought you didn’t think like a Valkyrie. I have you almost naked in my arms post battle and there you go talking about strategy. It’s kind of sexy.”

“Only kind of?”

“Yeah, I like it better after the talking.” He nuzzled her ear. “And so do you.” He carried her out the doors and still clothed into the fey purple waters that washed away the blood, the fear, and all that was left of Odinsdottir.

She’d been quite right when she said she was the girl who used to be Mercy Odinsdottir because all that was left was Valkyrie.

Eirsdottir.

Valkyrie to Magnus the Destroyer.

Receiver of Happy Ever After.

EPILOGUE

Magnus the Destroyer, bad-ass extraordinaire and King of the Acadians had a tankard of mead halfway to his lips when a screech sounded from the upstairs room where his beloved lay sleeping.

He paused—debating which reaction was appropriate. To run up the stairs swinging his war hammer ready to do murderous things to any who’d dared disturb his love, or slinking outside to work on the special dagger he was carving for her.

Actually, if anyone had dared disturb Mercy’s slumber, he wouldn’t give a six-legged horse’s turd for their future.

He brought the mead closer to his lips and she screeched again.

Damn it, it was like she knew.

Eir took the tankard out of his hand and drained it. Since Rollo’s death, her fifteen year mission at an end, she’d retired and come to live on Lycanos Four. “Sounds like your ladylove is in need of your services.”

“Why don’t you go see?” he dared her.

“Not me. She’s as big as a bear and just as angry. You married her, you deal with it.” Eir teased. “It’s your fault she’s like this anyway.” The woman grinned.

“Yeah, you just wait until Thane and Thora are calling you Grammy and pulling your braids like reins.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Eir’s smile softened, until Mercy yelled again.

“Put that damn tankard on a tile. You’re going to ruin the wood. It’s like you two were born and raised in a barn.” Mercy leaned over the stairs, her riot of long red hair swaying in the cool breeze coming in off the water.

Magnus grinned. “Not a barn. A mud hut.”

Instead of being irritated with him, she smiled. “Come here. Your bite-sized Valkyries are kicking up a storm.”

Magnus darted up the stairs and grabbed her, hand on her belly. The ferocious little kicks delighted him. They were so fierce, so strong. Qualities they would need once they came to meet the world.

Rebuilding the Acadian way of life and culture was taking time, but when he was out destroying, earning his name and killing his way across the ‘verse, this was what he’d been seeking all along.

He didn’t know if he actually believed in Valhalla, but if it was real, he imagined it looked a lot like this moment.

THE END

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MORE FROM SARANNA DEWYLDE

Coming September 15, the second in my Labels series: Slut.

“You’re a woman who is comfortable in her own sexuality. That necessarily means you must be labeled, categorized and filed away for everyone’s safety.”

Rebecca “Bex” Foxworth likes that description of herself. It makes her sound strong, dangerous, and powerful—like she’s standing against some grand injustice by using her body as she sees fit. That’s how her friend Claire Howard sees her and if Claire has taught her anything, it’s that labels are defined by the people who wear them, and not the other way around.

But SLUT is more than a label to Bex: it’s her armor. It protects her from ever having to share her true self. The loop in her head tells her she’s innately flawed and wholly unworthy. Why else would her parents insist she go under the knife for a new nose, a new body, and plastic perfection?

That’s something Thornton Henry Edgeleaf would never understand. Thornton is perfect, in every way—handsome, worldly, passionate—with just one unforgivable flaw: he’s utterly sincere. It makes Bex want to run screaming, back into the familiar, indifferent arms of men who won’t fail to dismiss and mistreat her. But nothing’s as easy as it used to be…

Books by Saranna DeWylde

The Labels Series

Fat

Slut

10 Days Series

How To Lose A Demon in 10 Days

How To Marry A Warlock in 10 Days
How to Seduce An Angel in 10 Days

Desperate Housewives of Olympus

Desperate Housewives of Avalon

Ride of the Darkyrie

Writing as Sara Lunsford
Sweet Hell on Fire: A Memoir of the Prison I Worked In and the Prison I Lived In

VIKING UNBOUND

The Triad Series #3

by

Kate Pearce

Website | Newsletter | Facebook

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Welcome to the science-fiction erotic romance world of the Triad System where telepaths roam, and forming a three-way partnership often has its ups and downs. In this particular adventure a four-thousand-year old Viking is being transported through space. Now what could possibly go wrong with that? If you enjoy this book, please feel free to check out the two previous books on my website and if you want to find out when the next one is being published join my newsletter, where you’ll be the first to know about all new upcoming projects.

Enjoy!

Kate x

PROLOGUE

York, England 970. A.D.

“We’re not going to survive this time, brother.” Aki’s voice echoed around the dark cavern as they ran. “Someone betrayed us.”

“I know that,” Einarr snarled. “And, by the Gods, he will regret it.”

“If we live.”

Einarr took another turn and continued downward, the sound of underground water now in front of him. “We’ll live.” He slowed his step as the light ahead grew stronger.

“By running away like cowards?” Aki was breathing hard. “They’ve blocked the entrance to this cave. All they have to do is come after us. We’ll be easy prey.”

“We’re not running away.” The eerie white light bounced off Einarr’s shield and axe. The power of his ancestors surged within him and answered the call of the ancient magic. “Grandfather told me about this place. He said that if I ever needed an escape, the waterfall would provide one.”

Aki gasped as they stepped into a huge cavern where water tumbled in a frothing white mass down from the farthest black rock formation.

“There’s a way out?” Aki had to yell to be heard.

Einarr reached behind him and grasped Aki’s arm ring, sending a wave of power that pushed his words directly into his twin brother’s head.

“Aye. Behind the waterfall. We just have to walk through to the other side.” Einarr took a step forward, one hand on his axe. “Be careful. It’s slippery.”

Aki followed him as the well-worn path climbed steadily until they reached a smooth stone platform that seemed to disappear directly inside the roar of the white-flecked water. Einarr set down his shield and his brother did the same.

“Hold onto my cloak,” Einarr said.

“I’m not a babe in arms,” Aki complained, but obeyed him anyway. “May Odin protect us.”

As Einarr inched forward, everything inside him slowed and coalesced into a burning hot sensation in his fingertips. He reached out his hand and the water turned to steam, lifting the curtain to show him the continuing path and a narrow cavern behind the falls. He kept moving and the waterfall closed behind them, leaving an eerie, screaming silence that made him want to shove his fingers in his ears and shriek like a frightened child.

The noise rose until the rocks were vibrating, and all the hair on his body stood upright like an animal at bay. Sparks flew from his outstretched fingertips, ricocheting off the walls and slicing through the water like the sharpest dagger cuts.

“Einarr!”

He looked back and Aki screamed as the water turned inward and coalesced into ice. Then he knew no more.

1

Trios Space Agency Ship QZ41

Trios System 229995.

“So what we have here, Tecky, is a bona fide prehistoric popsicle?”

“Not quite prehistoric, but certainly ancient.” Frey glanced over at the ship’s captain and tried to smile. “My name’s Frey, Captain Travis, not Tecky.”

He held open a door and locked it behind her with yet another security code. “I know what your name is. We call all the science officers Tecky. It makes things easier to remember as you come and go so fast.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

She tried to sound calm and approachable. It was her first job, and she didn’t want to give the wrong impression. The FREN organization, the Federal Research Environmental Nation, employed all the scientists on Trios System ships, and she desperately wanted to be one of them for more than just her probationary year. Unfortunately, from what she’d seen so far, the crew on this particular ship was rather casual about rules and regulations and found her insistence on following protocol amusing.

“I’ve been specially trained to keep an eye on this cargo, Captain.”

“Why, what do they think is going to happen?” Travis laughed, the sound bouncing off the spherical metal walls. “Hopefully that thing is frozen solid.”

“The ice is untouched. And that’s how it will remain until we put down on Alpha Station Three.”

Travis unlocked the last door and handed her the secure passkey. The temperature dropped as they approached the glass viewing screen. Frey flipped the lights on.

“Well, Holy Magnet, he looks like a real live man, doesn’t he?” Travis whistled. “Like he was freeze-framed from a holo-image rather than really frozen. Do you guys know how it happened?”

“We’re not quite sure. It looks as though he and the other specimen were encased in ice so suddenly that they were preserved intact.”

“When do you reckon that was?”

“About four thousand Earth years ago.”

Travis whistled again. “Who found them?”

“Part of an old copper mine gave way near the ancient city of York and revealed the caverns beneath the city. The Earth scientists believe the males might be of Viking origin.”

“You’re kidding.” Travis leaned in on the glass and shaded his eyes with his hand. “Looks like the guy has some kind of axe.”

“You’re correct, captain. The other specimen on your sister ship is holding a sword or a bow. We’re not quite sure what it is yet.”

“So they’re going to defrost them on Alpha Three like frozen pigcow?”

“It’s a bit more technical than that, but I suppose it is a similar process.”

“We could stick him in our FoodPro and see if that would work. We’d save billions for the Trios Space Agency.”

Frey smiled tightly again as the ship’s captain laughed at his own joke and left her to survey her frozen project. Travis was a confident man and despite first impressions seemed efficient, which was why she supposed he’d been chosen to carry such a precious cargo.

She went to switch the lights off and then lingered, one hand flat on the glass. Every time she looked at the Viking she noticed more details, the dark stubble on the warrior’s chin, the heavy rings on his fingers and the arm bands with the Nordic writing and runes no one had gotten close enough to decipher.

But soon they would. Frey could only hope she’d be allowed to stay and watch the great thawing out. The Alpha Three scientists were renowned for rediscovering and reintroducing lost species to their native environments. As far as she knew, no one had ever tried to revive two ancient Vikings…

With a quick look behind her, she let herself into the holding cell. Despite what she’d said to the captain, the FREN team had already penetrated the ice around the male more than once. Four tiny microscopic probes had been inserted. She was the only one onboard with the necessary clearance to read and monitor those probes.

The block of ice stood about three meters high and a meter wide on a plinth that provided power and cooling jets to keep the ice from melting or deteriorating further. This close, the ice was almost clear. Sometimes it felt like the warrior’s eyes were following her around as she worked, but they were still closed tight. She wondered what his eye color would be when he finally regained consciousness, and what he would make of the world he’d woken up in. She had to assume it would be terrifyingly unfamiliar.

She checked the sensors. Everything registered a big fat zero, which was just fine with her. It was quite a responsibility, but she was more than up for it. She’d also been given detailed instructions about what to do in any kind of emergency situation and how her primary function was to save the ice warrior at all costs. Not that anything would go wrong. The small crew flew this route at least twice an Earth month, and there was nothing hostile on the way to Alpha Station Three.

“Tecky, you receiving me?”

She didn’t need to use her com to hear her fellow Pavlovan. They were both telepaths. Frey hadn’t made many close friends during her year on Earth. She’d either been studying too hard, or been too reserved to get into the whole college culture. As a result, she valued having someone around on the ship she could talk to so easily. “Yes, First Officer Slavin.”

“Come and strap yourself in, we’re about to depart.”

Frey blew a scandalous kiss to her important cargo and, after securely locking the series of doors, made her way to the bridge where the other members of the crew were already seated.

Slavin smiled as Frey went by her seat. “All secure down there?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“We’re not anticipating any problems on this flight. It will take about five cycles. We’ll sleep through most of it.”

“Good.” Frey settled more comfortably in the deep padded seat and studied the blackness of space. There was so frakking much of it that sometimes it scared her. She liked her world to be ordered and controllable and…why the heeze had she ever wanted to work for an intergalactic corporation?

During the first space jumps, they’d all be immobilized in a semiconscious state as the ship followed its pre-programmed course and brought them closer to where they needed to be. The chairs acted like life support, monitoring body signs, offering the necessary nutrition and sending all pertinent information back to Earth and the various planets involved in case of emergency.

“There is one interesting thing happening out there,” Slavin added. “We’re expecting an up-close-and-personal look at a massive eclipse.”

“Oh, that’s right! Five planets are lining up.” Frey grinned. “Being a science geek, I’m ridiculously excited about this.”

“Alpha Station Three is between the last two of the aligning planets, Thor and Odin.”

“Then my Norseman will appreciate that.”

Slavin raised her eyebrows. “Your Norseman?”

Frey pointed down at the hold. “The frozen guy. Thor and Odin are Viking gods.”

“Then it’s a shame he won’t be awake to see it.”

“Maybe I’ll open up the viewing screens in the lab so that he can get a peek at it. I’ll probably have to view most of it from there anyway to catch and interpret the data stream for TSA and FREN.”

“Lucky old you.”

Frey relaxed as the thrusters started to rumble, and Slavin turned her attention to piloting the ship out of the dock and into open space. Sensors emerged from the arms and back of the chair and coiled themselves around Frey as the big engines kicked in and they set up for their first jump.

Now all she had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

2

Something called to him…

Something he couldn’t see, but could sense deep within, like the pounding of his heart, the suck of air into his lungs or the throb of his cock…

Did he want to respond to that nameless urging? He’d tried before, but had given up in despair, his power too weak to force himself out of his stupor.

But this was more visceral. More of a demand, as if something gripped his heart and threatened to rip it from his chest while it was still beating… Had Odin finally released him from his hell with the promise of a fight to the death and the ultimate glory of a seat in Valhalla?

Light.

There.

The smallest pinprick. A blackish glow that infiltrated his skull like a red-hot wire or the tang of a bloodied lip. It burrowed inside him and shattered into a thousand pieces. He screamed in agony.

“Wow.”

Frey knew she was talking to herself, but she didn’t care. There was no one else in the lab aside from the unmoving slab of frozen Viking. So, she talked to him when no one was around. What was wrong with that? Okay, she dreamed about him too, but those images were far too erotic to think about while she was working.

She’d opened the viewing screens on the lower deck so that she could get a good look at the eclipse, which was lining up to be spectacular. Four of the planets, including her home planet Pavlovan were now aligned, and the fifth would be engulfed fairly shortly. The reflected light made the planets glow blood-red, like four various sized discs superimposed upon each other. The smallest planet, Thor, would slide into place within the next few minutes and then hold position for about the same length of time until the planets moved away from each other again.

Data streamed down from six screens in an endless torrent. Frey had no time to analyze it properly, which didn’t sit well with her. Her role was to make sure all the cameras and readers were functioning and to relay the information back to the FREN and Pavlovan scientists who had never witnessed this particular phenomenon before.

First Officer Slavin had said that several nations were also monitoring the eclipse. She had offered to stay on the bridge for the nightshift just to watch it happen. Frey thought seeing it through the sealed windows of the space ship was way more interesting than just staring at the screens. As far as Frey knew, there was no danger in looking directly at the alignment through the thick protection of TecGlass, so she was soaking up every second.

After another quick check of the screens, she turned back to the window, holding her breath as the planet Thor finally slid into place right in the center of the slightly bigger Odin. Waves of redness seemed to undulate from the five planets, making Frey blink.

“That’s awesome,” she whispered, suddenly aware of what that overused word really meant.

A flash on one of the monitors made her look up as all the screens suddenly went haywire.

Frey tried to make sense of the gibberish now running on the screens, which flashed on and off. With a sudden explosion of color, the images disappeared, leaving all the screens black.

“Holy heeze,” Frey muttered as she frantically pushed every button she could find. “What happened?”

“Are you okay down there?”

“Yeah, but the data stream just collapsed. Is everything okay with the ship, Slavin?”

“Nope, all screens and coms blacked out here. Life support is fully functioning though.”

“Frak,” Frey muttered as the screens flashed from black to red and back again. “Do you need to wake the captain?”

“I’ll—” Slavin’s breath hissed out. “Oh, thank the Gods, we’re back online. I’m going to run some tests. You okay down there?”

Frey blinked as her screens stayed red, and random columns of figures cascaded downward like an uncontrollable waterfall.

“I’m registering something. I’m not quite sure what it is.” She leaned closer to the screen and squinted against the fierceness of the red. “It looks like gibberish and it’s certainly not English. Hieroglyphics maybe? Runes?”

The six screens flashed simultaneously and Frey instinctively shut her eyes. When she opened them again, the data stream had returned to normal.

“Tecky? Frey? Are you still there?”

She fumbled to sit upright, mortally embarrassed that she’d somehow ended up acting like a three year old. “I’m fine, Slavin. It just got a bit bright in here. Everything’s back to normal now.”

“Good.” Slavin hesitated. “You sound a bit shaken. Do you want me to send security down?”

“No, I’m good, I really am.” Frey shook herself and stood up, smoothing down her tightly tied back hair. She tried to appear like the competent officer she was. “I have to check on my cargo.”

She picked up the specially tuned recorder the FREN rep had given her and turned toward the cold storage zone. Even through the glass, she could still see the block of ice and the Viking encased inside. Red light reflecting off the eclipse outside gave the ice a rosy pink glow with a smattering of dancing crimson lights.

Frey unlocked the security door and went in. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until it whooshed out in a little cloud of heated air. She put a tentative hand on the ice. It was frozen hard and the cooling jets beneath it still functioned perfectly.

Turning on the recorder, she walked around the block of ice, giving the receptors time to pick up all four probes. The signal beeped and registered another zero, and Frey sent a prayer up to the Pavlovan heavens. She’d go through the complete records tomorrow, after she’d reported the fault to her superiors back at FREN. They’d probably already noticed there was a break in transmission, but there was a slight delay in receiving information so she didn’t expect to hear back from them right away. It gave her plenty of time to analyze the problem and send them a complete report herself.

A flash of light glinted off the ice, and she stared back through the glass into her empty lab where the screens were functioning perfectly and beyond her desk to the still amazing sight of the aligned planets. A soft sigh echoed around the enclosed space and the ice creaked and groaned.

The recorder in her hand buzzed. She looked down at it and then further down to the metallic floor where something red glinted against the corner of the ice block. Frey crouched down and studied the gleaming red droplet, laughing with stupid relief as she realized it was just a reflection of the eclipse. For a second, it had looked more like a solid gemstone.

Her smile dimmed. Her back was now blocking the colors of the eclipse and yet the red was still there… Tentatively she leaned forward and touched the droplet. It adhered to her skin, a perfect red globe, and she brought it closer to her face and sniffed it, wondering at the coppery smell. Was one of the probes within the ice malfunctioning or even worse, rusting? It seemed unlikely, but she would mention it on her next report.

Even as she stared at the red droplet it started to lose its shape. She flicked her finger and jumped as a sharp pain pierced her skin.

“Ouch! What the frak was that?” She flinched as a bead of her blood now bloomed in the exact same place as the red droplet had been. Instinctively, she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it.

“Eew, no that was stupid!”

She flicked her fingers and, holding her hand up and away from herself, went through the process of relocking the security doors until she was safely back in the lab and able to raid the medical kit for a disinfectant spray to close the wound. She should have been wearing gloves before she touched the ice or even went near it. In her haste to check that the Viking was still okay, she’d forgotten procedure and ended up doing something monumentally stupid.

Frak knows what she could’ve done in there, adding her blood to the controlled atmosphere around the ice. She was a complete idiot. It was so not like her to do something so unprofessional.

“Everything okay down there, Tecky?” Slavin came on the com.

“Yes, everything’s fine. No change in our cargo, and all my screens are working perfectly now.”

“Good, I don’t think there is any point in waking up the whole crew over this. We’ll mention what happened to the captain at the handover in the morning, okay?”

“Fine by me.”

“Then I’ll see you up here on the bridge in three hours.”

“Will do.” Frey signed off and put away the medical kit. She’d give her report to the captain in the morning as to the effect of the eclipse on her sensors and instruments, but she wasn’t going to mention her bleeding finger. Unfortunately, that information would be available for FREN to view on their specially installed cameras in the hold, which meant she might be about to lose her job.

With a groan she glared at her throbbing finger. So much for her long career as a science officer roaming the galaxies for FREN and TSA. She’d blown it. As soon as she got to Alpha Three she’d be fired.

She probably wouldn’t even be allowed to stay long enough to see what happened to the Viking, and without FREN security clearance she probably never would find out if he survived… And that was unacceptable. She already felt a deep connection with him that unsettled her. Maybe it was that being associated with his reemergence into the world would help her scientific career, but it felt like so much more…as if she was somehow supposed to defend him against everyone and everything.

There was no point trying to hide what she’d done. Perhaps her honesty would work in her favor and they’d simply demote her rather than let her go.

“Yeah, right,” Frey muttered. “FREN is so well known for its compassion.”

She settled back in her seat and started to compose her report and, just in case, her resignation.

The buzz of her com in her ear woke her and she sat up, aware that she’d fallen asleep at her desk analyzing data and that her hair was stuck to her face with what was either tears or drool. Whatever it was, she was glad there wasn’t any vidscreen action. She hated looking less than immaculate.

“Tecky? We need you up here pronto.”

“Yes, Captain.”

She wished she had time to change but did the best she could to smooth down her hair and freshen up. She took the elevator to the bridge and arrived to find the whole crew already there.

“I hear there were some problems last night.” Travis nodded to Frey to sit down and then pointed at Slavin. “What happened?”

“There was a small blip in our power when the eclipse reached its magnitude. I checked with Tecky in the lab to see if she was okay. Just as I was doing that all my systems returned to normal.” Slavin consulted her handtech unit. “I’ve tested all systems and security classifications and there is no damage or indication why the outage occurred.”

“Life support wasn’t affected?”

“No Captain, just the screens on the bridge, which became nonfunctional for about thirty clicks.”

“What about the navigational functions of the ship?”

“Unimpaired. It was as if the data streams were interrupted for a few seconds.” Slavin shrugged. “I wondered if the perfect alignment of the eclipse had something to do with it, but as we’ve no record of this planetary event happening before, I don’t have any data to back up my theory.”

Captain Travis studied the data Slavin handed him. “Carry on with your tests and relay everything you’re doing back to FREN, Earth and Pavlovan. They might have additional information for us. Until we hear anything different, we’ll proceed as planned to Alpha Three.”

“Yes, sir.” Slavin nodded.

Frey tensed as the captain turned to her.

“Everything okay with your cargo, Tecky?”

“My screens went off for a few seconds, but there was no damage to the ice or the Viking that I could see. I’ve also written a report for FREN if you wish to read it.”

Travis nodded. “Hell no, that’s fine. Just make sure you send a copy along with Slavin’s and any extra data you gathered when you checked your systems to FREN and every other damn agency that will insist on seeing it.”

“Yes, sir.” Frey sank back into her chair, aware that Slavin was watching her closely. She made sure her telepathic shields were as high as she could before rising to her feet and nodding at the other crew members.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Is anyone coming?” Frey asked in her most cheerful I have nothing to hide voice.

“I’ll come.”

Slavin joined her in the elevator, her blond hair neatly tied back in a ponytail, her expression concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why should anything be wrong?” Frey asked.

“Because before you shoved your shields up, I sensed that you weren’t telling the captain the entire truth. Is everything okay with your cargo?”

“He’s fine. It’s just that I forgot to put my gloves on last night and touched the ice barehanded. I’m worried I might have contaminated the space.”

“The Viking’s still frozen stiff, right?”

“Yeah, he is.”

The doors of the elevator opened on the mess level. “Then you should be okay.”

Frey followed Slavin out of the elevator. “You don’t know FREN. They are really strict about proper procedure, and I’m a science officer. I should have remembered to keep the atmosphere pollutant-free.”

“It was an emergency situation. You did your best,” Slavin said firmly. She pushed open the mess hall door. “Now come and get something to eat.”

3

It was late, but Frey was determined to finish checking through every bit of information that had accrued during the eclipse. She’d pinpointed the exact Earth second when the systems had attempted to crash. It had only been about one hundred and thirty seconds of lost power, but she still had no idea what had caused it.

Glancing up, she studied the five planets that had now moved away from each other. Appearances in space were deceptive. They still had quite a way to go before they reached the research station on Alpha Three, which was on one of the moons that circled Odin. She sighed and took another sip of her coffee, one of the few things she had really appreciated about her stint on Earth.

If by some chance she kept her job and got to witness the defrosting process, she was then due two months of leave on Pavlovan. Her family intended to take her to the temple to meet the Oracle and see if she would reveal at least one of Frey’s chosen mates.

Frey finished the coffee in one gulp. She’d managed to avoid going to the temple on her last visit, but she couldn’t miss it again. Despite her mother’s checkered history with her mates, she would be upset if Frey didn’t go. At twenty-five, she was quite old enough to find out what the future had in store for her—even if that meant agreeing to meet an unknown mate or two.

Her acquaintances on Earth had been horrified at the idea of having one’s life partners chosen for you. Frey knew it worked and that partnerships on Pavlovan rarely broke up. Her parents had struggled, and her father had abandoned them, but two of her siblings were very happily mated and she expected to be the same. In fact, she wouldn’t allow the outcome to be any different. A nice, dull Pavlovan male was all she wanted. No fireworks, no drama and no running off to find himself in the jungles of the north in Pavlovan.

Boring, safe, predictable mates just like her…

“Frey?”

“Hey.” She turned to see Slavin in the doorway and beckoned her to come in. “I’m just going over the data again to see if I can make any more sense of it.”

“Any luck?”

“Not so far.”

Slavin helped herself to coffee and perched on the side of Frey’s desk. “Any repercussions from FREN yet?”

“Not so far. I assume they are behind on data collection, and communications at this distance are spotty even for them.”

“Thank goodness.” Slavin grinned at her and toasted her with her mug of coffee. “Maybe they won’t see you touch the ice at all.”

“I’m pretty sure they will. They have their own cameras set up in the inner cell. I can’t believe that I was so stupid. It’s not like me. I’m notorious for checking everything twenty times.” Frey topped off her mug of coffee. “If they let me complete the mission, I’m due home to Pavlovan for leave.”

“Me too.” Slavin grimaced. “My parents want me to meet my mate.”

“You already have one?”

“No, they’re going to haul me in front of the Oracle.”

“Sounds just like my two mothers.”

They shared a smile and then Slavin’s com bleeped and she set her mug down on the desk. “Sorry, I’ve got to get back to the bridge.”

“No worries. I have to finish up this report anyway.” Frey stretched and groaned as Slavin patted her shoulder. “I’m not sure what I’m trying to prove here anymore—that it was an act of nature or that I was just incompetent.”

“I’m sure FREN will decide that for you. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Will do.”

Frey considered how much she’d come to like the tall blonde during their journey. She was smart, incisive and had a dry wit that Frey enjoyed immensely. Any Pavlovan should be glad to have her as his or her mate.

Her screen flashed red and the FREN logo appeared. Frey braced herself as the face of an unknown female appeared on the screen.

“Science Officer Frey. I am Director Mitzi Lahm ”

“Director Lahm.”

“We have received your data.”

Frey stopped herself from babbling straight into an explanation and kept her expression serene.

“We have new orders for you.”

She braced herself for dismissal, but saw instead a new file icon appear at the bottom of the screen.

“Read these, obey the instructions and then destroy them using FREN code TRZ9Y.”

“Yes, Director. Thank you, ma’am.”

Mitzi fixed her with a blistering gaze. “We will be discussing your unscientific conduct when you reach Alpha Three.”

“Yes, Director.”

“Over and out.”

Trying not to dissolve into a small puddle of relief at not being instantly dismissed, Frey opened the orders file and considered the few short sentences. She grabbed her FREN recorder and, as requested, manually input the series of codes from the file into the database.

When the recorder beeped, she got down from her stool and unlocked the exterior and interior doors into the Viking’s holding cell. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped into the final space. It felt warmer than it had yesterday. She automatically checked the temperature unit on the wall and the ice for signs of degradation but could see nothing unusual.

Except… She leaned closer to the ice, her breath misting on it. The Viking looked clearer today, and that was not possible. She could see the shaved sides of his head and the runes tattooed there, the thick sweep of long black hair hanging halfway down his back. Hardly daring to breathe, she pointed the recorder at the ice and waited for the four sensors to respond to the new commands as she circled the raised block.

“Hjálpa mér.”

Frey went still. The telepathic thought was faint, the voice unfamiliar and the language unknown. She was fairly certain that apart from Slavin, there wasn’t another Pavlovan on the ship, so who was projecting thoughts to her?

The sensors beeped and she jumped and looked down at the screen. Heeze, what was going on now? There were numbers where there should’ve been zeroes.

After one quick glance at the ice, she went back to the lab and entered her secure codes for FREN. It took but a click to feed the new data back to the director. She waited tensely in her seat, but there was no reply. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Curiosity drove her back to the ice and the Viking within. Even in the time that she’d been away, the ice was clearer. Three of the probes were now visible. She squinted closely at the still figure and finally detected the fourth device, which seemed to have been placed right against the Viking’s skull.

It was winking red like a ruby, reminding her of the droplet of red blood she’d collected on her finger. Was that where the blood had come from? Dread settled low in her gut and she backed against the door.

“Slavin? Can you come down here?”

“Is it important?”

“I think it might be.” Frey hesitated. “Did you pick up any telepathic activity earlier?”

“Apart from you? No, why?”

“Then you really should get down here. I’m…scared.”

“Hang in there. I’m calling security.”

Frey stayed where she was, blocking the exit. She had the stupid sense that if she left the space the Viking might follow her…

Within minutes, Slavin appeared on the other side of the glass with the head of security, a competent male called Brown.

His voice sounded in her com. “What’s wrong, Tecky?”

“The sensor readings have changed on the ice. It’s warming up. I’ve reset the temperature controls twice, but nothing seems to make any difference.”

“Are you trapped in there?”

“No, I just wanted someone with me when I tried to get out.”

He nodded through the glass at her. “Then go ahead. I’ll cover you and lock the door the second you’re through it.”

“You can’t lock this door. I’m the only one who has the security clearance to do it.”

“Then get out of there damn fast and lock it behind you.”

“Okay.”

She felt behind her for the passcode panel and, trying not to take one eye off the ice block, tapped in her security code. The door unlocked and she whisked herself out of it and slammed it behind her. Her fingers shook as she recoded the door.

Brown studied her. “You all right, Tecky?”

“Not really. If this block of ice is melting, we’re going to have a defrosting body on our hands, and FREN is going to freak out big time.”

“Can you adjust the controls from here?”  Slavin asked.

“Yes, I’ve tried it both ways, but nothing seems to be working.”

“You’ve contacted FREN?”

“They contacted me and ordered me to input new codes. That’s when everything started to go wrong. They haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

Slavin sighed. “Then I don’t know what else we can do. I’ll check in with the captain and see if there are any protocols I can adapt from the ship’s main temperature controls to override or support what’s in here. But this stuff was all introduced by FREN and made to their specific guidelines.”

“Then let’s hope they get back to me,” Frey muttered.

He could sense her now, her thoughts jumbled and chaotic, and her fear palpable. That drew him to her and made him want to lick his lips in anticipation. Whatever she was, she was connected to him through his magic, and she would obey him. His eyelids twitched and he fought against the desire to force them open. Being encased in ice had taught him about patience and he would wait… There was no stopping his eventual emergence now; he knew it in his very being.

Frey couldn’t sleep. She’d been dreaming about the Viking again, his black hair billowing in the breeze and his hand extended toward her. She’d gone to him and when they’d touched lips she’d moaned and unfortunately woken herself up. Her body throbbed a protest. It was the strangest sensation. She felt like she already knew the taste and texture of him intimately. She also had a sense that he needed her and was calling to her…

The captain had ordered security to guard the ice cell while she wasn’t awake and to alert her to any significant changes, but her sense of need and dread refused to disperse. She didn’t know why her nerves were jangling or why her mind was open to the slightest sound.

He needed her.

She sat up and pushed off the covers. Something was wrong and she was the only one who could fix it. FREN hadn’t responded to her or to the captain, so she was on her own.

If the Viking defrosted…

She ignored her shoes and went out into the narrow hallway that connected the crew quarters with the mess hall and administrative wing beyond. Above her were the more spacious cabins of the captain and those for official travelers. Below her, engines, cargo holds and the storage units. The subdued roar of the machines made the metal shudder and hum and the floor gently vibrate under her feet.

Ignoring the lure of the mess hall and the elevator, she climbed the spiral staircase up to her lab, her tension mounting along with her killer headache. She’d neglected to close the window shields. Her lab gleamed with red and yellow light reflecting from the exterior planets and their circling suns and stars.

A waft of freezing air made her stop and turn slowly toward the storage cell. She blinked hard at shards of broken glass and the slumped figure half-in and half-out of the first security door.

Grabbing both her weapon and her FREN recorder, she dropped down to her knees and crawled slowly toward the fallen man. It was Prism, one of the security guards. She felt for his pulse. His skin was frozen and she could see no other signs of life. Looking up at the security door, she bit her lip. The glass looked like it had exploded from the inside…

Why the heeze weren’t the alarms blaring? Why hadn’t the rest of the security team appeared the instant one of their men went down? It was so damned quiet. Hardly daring to breathe, she eased past the man and the broken glass and focused her attention on the last of the security doors. The one she held the codes for.

“Gods, no,” Frey whispered as she got a closer look at the mangled and distorted metal that had been practically ripped from its frame.

Knowing that she had to get even closer, she crawled forward and peered into the blackness within the holding cell. The motors hummed, keeping the air at well below freezing, but she had a sense that the Viking had forced his way out of there…

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

She had to turn on a light and discover the truth. Her hands were shaking too much to make anything work. With a forlorn prayer to the Pavlovan Oracle and her Gods, she managed to illuminate the small screen of her FREN recorder and pointed it outward into the darkness.

The ice block had disappeared and so had its occupant.

Frey sat back on her ass and buried her face in her hands while she remembered how to breathe. She had to inform FREN that somehow their primitive Viking had self-defrosted and was now roaming the space ship obviously alive. And what the hell would he make of the world he’d emerged into? He could do untold damage and kill every one of them without even realizing what he’d done.

She tapped in the emergency code, added a short message and fumbled her way back into the main lab.

Her screen was already flashing an answer.

KEEP HIM ALIVE AT ALL COSTS. USE PROTOCOL 3ZE.

She stifled a hysterical giggle. The 3ZE protocol basically meant that she had control of the ship and the crew. She’d tried not to laugh when she’d been handed the secret protocols, knowing her chances of getting anyone to listen to her were fairly slim. But with a Viking marauder on the loose, would her companions change their minds?

First and foremost she had to find the Viking and communicate with him. Once that was achieved, she might have a chance to save both him and the crew. Rising to her feet, she rummaged in her desk for some additional items the FREN team had provided her with in case of an emergency and added them to her utility belt.

If she wasn’t allowed to kill him, and she didn’t think she could anyway, she’d have to shut him down somehow. Her fingers steadied as she slid the buckle home and tightened the belt around her hips. A whisper of something touched her mind and she went still. It definitely wasn’t Slavin’s now familiar telepathic signature. Was it possible that Vikings in the first century A.D. on Earth had been telepaths? Had she sensed him before?

It was a bit of a leap, but it was all she had. Frey took a deep breath and centered her thoughts while allowing her telepathic senses to roam outward.

There.

Anger, rage, fear…

Frey opened her eyes. If she could find him before the rest of the crew were alerted to his presence, she might be able to prevent further bloodshed. Focusing on her slight sense of him, she left her lab, took a sharp right turn and headed back to the kitchens.

Einarr paused, his breathing ragged, his breath still frosting in the warm air. Nothing made sense. He’d thought he was free, but now he was encased in some kind of metallic, humming maze. Had he been swallowed by a great beast? Was Odin demanding one more act of valor before he was allowed into the hallowed halls of Valhalla?

He gripped the shaft of his axe more tightly and heard a scuttling sound to his left. Reaching out, he gently pushed open the nearest door and found himself in a space that smelled of food. His stomach grumbled loudly in the silence, convincing him that he was indeed alive and not completely immersed in the nightmare of his dreams. Two green orbs flashed at his shoulder level and he went to grab the creature, whatever it was, and encountered sharp claws and the hiss of fangs.

“Kottur.”

He hastily withdrew his hand and sucked his fingers into his mouth. His blood flowed as sluggishly as a frozen river. Cats were beloved of Freyja. Perhaps this was a sign that he was not alone in this strange world? The sound of the cat jumping down to the floor and rubbing against his ankles was surprisingly comforting. When was the last time he’d been touched by another creature?

Moving further into the chamber that smelled like food, he found another door and went inside. Even in the darkness, he could make out the sight of the loaded shelves. The cat had followed him, and was now meowing, but Einarr’s focus was on feeding himself. He picked things up at random and discarded them, his mouth watering as his sense of smell returned. Eventually, he found something he recognized and fought with the strange wrapping, using his teeth to rip off the shiny coating so that he could bite into the bread beneath.

Carrying the loaf in his hand, he searched for a jug or a barrel of ale but found nothing. Frustrated now, he left the food store and returned to the outer room, his keen hearing honing in on the drip of water onto a metal surface. Moving quietly around the space, he found the water and patiently cupped his hands beneath the trickle of liquid until he had satisfied his thirst.

It probably wasn’t wise to eat or drink anything in this strange place, but he was too hungry to care if the spirits intended to lure him into another world. He was beginning to believe he was in a cursed realm anyway. Since stepping over the body of the man who’d been caught up in his violent release from the ice, he’d seen no one but the cat. Yet he sensed someone, had recognized the female’s thoughts from the moment he’d regained that first sense of himself within the ice.

Someone touched his mind, and he immediately went for his weapon and then paused. Didn’t he want to be found? Didn’t he yearn for someone to confront him and tell him what was going on? And if it was the female whose presence had reached him even through the ice and his magical entrapment, he might even welcome her…

There was another door that led into what looked like a hall with benches and tables set out for eating. But as he came through it, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Set in the wall were two large, clear rectangles that looked out into…nothingness. His newly beating heart almost stopped as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Somehow he was flying through the night sky and the stars. But he didn’t recognize any of the constellations.

Closing his eyes, he sank to his knees and prayed desperately to his Gods.

Frey paused at the junction of the two passages and listened carefully. Something was moving around in the kitchen attached to the mess hall. Gripping her weapon tightly, she advanced toward the half-open door and peered into the darkness. A faucet dripped and somewhere Armstrong, the ship’s cat was purring.

Armstrong only purred when he was fed or he had company. There was another door that led out of the small galley kitchen back into the mess hall. It was possible that her Viking was either hiding in the galley, or had moved through into the next room.

She relaxed her psychic shields a little more and stifled a gasp. He was close, his thoughts a strange mixture of overwhelming fear and murderous intent. It made her want to find him and help him through this terrifying transition into a new and unfathomable world—if he didn’t kill her at first sight. In preparation for the trip, she’d read a lot about the Vikings and their reputation as fearless warriors and ruthless enemies.

And he wouldn’t be happy right now.

She forced herself to keep moving and entered the kitchen, inhaling its usual uneasy blend of cooking oil and harsh cleaning fluids. The door to the food storage unit was open and Frey hesitated outside it. The Viking wasn’t there. Considering the mess he’d left behind, he’d obviously been foraging for food. She could only imagine what he’d made of space rations.

She went onward, ignoring the cat, and headed back into the mess hall. The door was ajar. She crouched down to look through the small gap and immediately saw the silhouette of a man kneeling on the floor. The ground level security lighting was minimal, but she knew she wasn’t looking at a member of the crew. This man was too large and too different.

“Komdu hingað.”

She stiffened as a brusque command infiltrated her mind. The language was unknown. The compulsion to stand up and meet her fate was almost impossible to resist.

Readjusting her grip on her weapon, she pocketed it and drew out her FREN-authorized stun gun, making sure it was loaded and ready to rock. Getting to her feet, she pushed the door fully open and took one unsteady step forward.

The Viking turned his head toward her, and she caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth and a ferocious scowl. As he rose to a crouch, she pointed the stun gun at him and aimed at the place where his neck met his shoulder. The next few seconds were a blur as he lunged for her, knocking the gun from her hand. His fingers wrapped around her throat and she had no choice but to look at him.

“Hver ert þú?”

Frey tried to swallow. “I can’t understand you.”

He repeated the question, his mind echoing the same words.

“I don’t know, what you are saying. Let me help you, I can…”

“Frey? What’s going on?” Slavin’s voice cut across the Viking’s unintelligible answer.

“Can’t…” Frey was wheezing for breath now, unable to get through to the man squeezing the life out of her.

Security alarms blared, and with a snarl, the Viking dropped her to the floor and ran toward the door. The sound of running feet and a sudden yell reverberated down the hallway, and then Brown was by her side, his expression furious.

“Are you all right?” He hauled her onto a chair and held her steady as she gasped for breath. “What the hell happened, Tecky? Why didn’t you sound the alarm sooner?”

“Was trying to find the Viking, to see if he had really survived.” She coughed. “Was going to call for backup as soon as I’d verified that.”

She leaned back against the table as the mess hall filled with crew members in various states of undress and aggravation. Slavin arrived and came over to Frey.

“Are you okay? I thought you were going to die.”

Frey managed a shaky grin. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Heeze…don’t ever do that to me again. I thought—”

Frey cut across her friend. “Can you sense the Viking? Telepathically I mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Slavin frowned. “There’s something there, but it’s very faint. Why, can you?”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Frey jumped as Captain Travis strode into the room.

“Turn off the alarms,” he barked at Brown. “What’s the situation, Tecky?”

Frey stood up, aware of Slavin at her shoulder, and faced the irate captain. “The Viking appears to be alive and somewhere on the ship, sir.”

Travis opened his mouth and then shut it again. “What?”

“I don’t know what happened, sir. I woke up early and decided to go down to the lab where I found Security Officer Prism dead and all three of the security doors blown apart.”

“So you’re suggesting our frozen cargo somehow managed to get himself out of a block of ice, kill one of my team and escape into the ship without anyone apart from you being fucking aware of it?” He glared at her. “Why didn’t you fucking sound the alarms the instant you realized Prism was dead? Why didn’t the alarms sound in the first place?”

Slavin cleared her throat. “FREN took responsibility for security in the lab. It’s highly probable that they disconnected the area from the main sensors.”

“Which still doesn’t explain why Tecky here didn’t raise the alarm herself.”

Frey met his enraged gaze. “Because I thought it was my responsibility to locate the Viking before I called in security.”

“And what the hell made you think that?”

Frey raised her chin. “My orders from FREN were to take control of the situation and direct others on the ship as I saw fit.”

“FREN told you that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck them. I’m captain of this ship until I’m told otherwise and you, Science Officer Frey, are suspended from duty while I find and catch this Viking and put him in a holding cell.”

“Sir, I have to warn you that he is bound to be confused about where he is. He doesn’t even speak our language.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand a gun pointed at his head.”

“No, sir he won’t. He’s never seen a gun before in his life.” Frey swallowed with some difficulty. It wasn’t in her nature to stand up to anyone in authority or create problems. “FREN have authorized me to deal with him. I would appreciate it if you let me carry out my orders. I—”

He cut her off with a decisive wave of his hand. “I’m the captain of this ship. You are confined to quarters. When I have the Viking in a controlled and secure environment, I will allow you to check him over and pass the information on to FREN.”

“But—” Frey took an impulsive step forward. Brown’s hand closed around her elbow and proved impossible to shake off. “Please, don’t kill him, Captain. Please let me deal with him. I have the necessary tools to sedate the male and to help him understand what we are saying to him.”

“Your observations and objections have been noted.” Captain Travis paused in the doorway to look back at her. “As I said, you can check him out when I’ve found him and prevented him from damaging my ship or killing any more of my crew.”

The remaining two security members followed the captain out, leaving Brown waiting patiently at Frey’s side. Frey turned to him.

“Please make sure Captain Travis checks his messages this morning. I’m fairly certain he will have heard from both FREN and the TSA about this situation and how I’m expected to deal with it.”

Brown lowered his voice. “He’s already checked his messages. That’s why he was delayed. He just doesn’t choose to acknowledge the orders.”

“But that’s…”

He gripped her elbow tighter. “Come on, Tecky. Let’s get you to medical to check out your throat and then back to your quarters.”

As she was marched along to the medical center, Frey’s mind was in turmoil. If Travis cornered the Viking and killed him, her career would be over and FREN would probably make sure no one on the ship ever went into space again in any capacity. And the Viking would be dead, and that was unacceptable.

“What can I do to help, Frey?”

Frey hesitated at Slavin’s gentle question. “Nothing unless you’re prepared to go against captain’s orders. I need to get to the Viking before Travis corners him. I have a feeling he won’t give up very easily.”

“Who, Travis or the Viking?” Slavin asked.

“The four-thousand-year-old warrior. The one with the axe and probably a few daggers hidden around his person. Vikings believed that the best death imaginable was in battle.”

“Damn.” Slavin paused. “He didn’t kill you though, did he?”

“No, he just punched the tranq gun out of my hand and tried to choke me.”

She didn’t tell Slavin that the Viking had attempted to communicate telepathically with her. That was still too complicated to think about, let alone share. For some reason, they were linked and now she’d been denied any opportunity to find and secure him.

Brown opened the door into medical and guided Frey through it. A body lay on one of the gurneys with a sheet drawn up over it. She guessed it was the unfortunate Prism who’d either been caught in the explosion or killed by the emerging Viking. Rehm, one of the pilots from the bridge, was also there holding a cloth to a deep slashing cut on the side of his head. He must have been the guy she’d heard scream after the Viking dropped her to the floor.

The medic looked up as he tended to Rehm and gestured to a chair.

“Take a seat, Tecky. I have to seal this wound up.”

Frey sat and concentrated her attention on anything but the smell of blood, and the unmoving mound on the gurney.

Someone was coming and it wasn’t the cat, or his female…

Einarr crouched between the two towering metal structures and focused his gaze on the outline of the door several lengths away from him. He wasn’t sure where he was, but the cylinders gave him good cover and the ability to ambush his adversaries if it became necessary.

But what if he killed them all? From what he’d already seen, these men didn’t carry any weapons. Were they like the Christian monks his ancestors had plundered and robbed when the men from the north first discovered the riches of England? A defenseless, peaceful people who had no ability to fight back?

But the female had pointed some kind of weapon at him, he was quite certain of that. He had no idea how many people inhabited this strange place that seemed to float through the night skies like a giant bird or a sea-less, wind-less ship.

He hunkered down as the voices grew louder. She’d been a little thing with hair the color of an autumn leaf and wide, startled brown eyes. But she hadn’t understood him at all, even in her thoughts, which worried him immensely. If these people were peaceful and were simply a means to get him to Valhalla or wherever the Gods wanted him to be, he needed to speak to them. He wasn’t like his ancestors. He’d learned to parley with those who deserved it.

And in this instance, he was the one who needed to understand where he was and exactly what was going on. He considered putting away his axe and stepping out with his hands raised, but he couldn’t do that either. He might not be as rabid as his ancestors, but he was no coward and, until he gauged the intent of the men coming after him, he would be a fool to relax his guard.

He squinted through the darkness. There were three of them in a single line. One carried an extremely bright source of light that he directed into every shadowed area. The others carried something in their hands, which he had to assume were weapons of unknown strength. He slid his axe back into his belt and selected a throwing dagger instead.

As he pondered his choices, he felt an all too familiar tingle in his fingers and the runes on his armbands began to glow. Einarr smiled into the darkness. His magic was returning. Unfortunately for his opponents, he had another source of power beyond that of his strength. He had the magic of a hundred seers in his blood—right back to his ancestor Odin. If strength would not or could not defeat a man’s enemies, there was always another way. In truth, unlike his brother Aki, he’d always used violence as a last resort.

Eventually, the powerful light swung toward his hiding place. Lifting his hand, palm facing outward, he reflected the beam back toward his pursuers, getting his first good look at the two brawny males and the man behind them who was obviously in charge. Even as they complained about the sudden unexpected reflection, he magicked a cloud around himself, distorting his image and making it disappear into the shadows. If they were like most men, they wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

With a sign from their commander, they moved on deeper into the space, leaving Einarr in peace. He was just about to relax when one of the men turned back, his expression puzzled, and came straight toward Einarr’s hiding place. With a silent curse, Einarr caught the man around the neck and silenced him, dropping the unconscious body to the floor and taking the “weapon” for further examination.

He knew he’d have to move again. Following his instincts, he searched out a series of ladders that took him even further into the bowels of the ship and set about finding a secure place to get some rest.

4

Frey sat up straight as a security guard was brought into the already cramped medical facility and placed on the last remaining gurney. The doc turned away from examining her throat and grimaced.

“Another one? What’s going on?”

“We have a defrosted Viking running around the ship. What else do you need to know?” Brown snapped. “What happened, Ross?”

“We’re not sure.” The man who’d brought the new patient in paused at the door. “We made a sweep of storage bay one. The captain and I were at the door ready to move out when we realized Moshe wasn’t with us. I retraced our path and found him like this.” Ross shook his head. “I have to get back. The captain’s waiting for me.”

The doctor looked up from his examination. “Tell the captain Moshe’s been knocked unconscious with a blow to the side of the head. He’ll have a slight concussion, but otherwise he’ll be fine. In fact, he’s coming around now.”

As Ross left, Brown moved over to stand by the gurney. “Moshe? What happened?”

His much younger colleague groaned as the doctor gave him a shot in the arm. “Jeez, that scared the fuck out of me.”

“What did?” Brown asked with an edge to his voice.

“We scanned the storage bay, checked it out and found nothing, and then I got this sense, this kind of tickling sensation in the back of my neck, you know? So I had to turn around and go back. And shit, this huge dude was just suddenly there and that was the last thing I remember.”

“Where’s your weapon?”

Moshe sighed. “Shit, I don’t know. I certainly didn’t get to use it. He was too damned fast.”

“Nice attitude for a security operative, Moshe,” Brown muttered.

“You wouldn’t have done any better. One moment there was nothing except this grey fog and then suddenly that guy was right in my face.” He shuddered. “Did I mention that he was fucking huge?”

“So he’s a magical Viking, is he?”

“Maybe. He certainly knows how to hide his tracks.”

Despite Brown’s sarcastic tone, Frey considered Ross’s words very carefully. The Viking was telepathic and his ability to survive in ice for thousands of years hinted at other powers… As a Pavlovan, she knew her Gods were magical and often did extraordinary things. She’d also noticed that people from Earth didn’t seem to have much faith in anything at all.

Both Captain Travis and Brown were from Earth. Moshe was half-Pavlovan which might explain why he’d had to go and check out that feeling.

“If the Viking has acquired one of our weapons, Brown, it might cause a problem if he inadvertently sets it off,” Frey said as calmly as she could. “Perhaps you should inform the captain.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I’ve returned you to your quarters.”

Frey slid off the gurney and re-buttoned her uniform. “You should just let me tell him and how I intend to deal with the problem.”

“Nice try, Tecky, but you’re not going near the captain or that Viking until I’m given the okay.”

Freya held his gaze. “Then you won’t catch him, and more of our crew will be injured. Is that what you want?”

“And you think you can save the day?”

“Yes.”

His smile was somewhere between kind and dismissive. “Let’s get you safely back to your quarters, shall we?”

Frey let out her breath and stomped down the path to the crew quarters, glad that she had her own cabin to fret and fume in alone. Brown opened the door and ushered her inside.

“Have a good evening, Tecky.”

She let him do his thing, heard him tapping away at the security panel, changing the access codes so that she couldn’t leave without setting off an alert. He had no idea that as a Pavlovan, she had the telepathic ability to manipulate electrical signals, get out of that door in less than a second, and reset the alarms to make it look as if she’d never left.

But first, she needed to check her emergency supplies from FREN, form a plan and make sure she knew where her Viking was hiding. This time she would come prepared for a fight.

It was warm down in the innards of whatever magical flying boat Einarr was currently on. He’d finished the loaf of excellent bread and drank most of the water he’d decanted into his leather drinking pouch. Now he was waiting for either another attack or the reappearance of his female. He had no doubt that she would find him. He believed in the Fates and she, whoever she was, had become part of his destiny. He could sense it.

Time passed slowly, the warmth of his hiding place and the regular roar of whatever powered the ship making him yawn and fight sleep. He didn’t want to sleep. Some part of him feared that if he did so, he’d wake up in another world and he would finally go mad.

He jerked awake and inhaled sharply as the scent of his female’s blood reached him and allowed his mind to relax its vigil. Her thoughts briefly touched his in a moment of recognition as intimate as the brushing of their lips together. He stayed where he was, his axe in plain view on the floor by his side, his throwing dagger in his left hand. Her silhouette grew closer until she blocked out all the light behind her.

She went down on all fours and crawled very slowly toward him and then sat back on her heels. Even in the darkness he drank in her sweetness, the full curve of her lower lip and the fullness of her breasts.

“Komdu hérna.”

He sent the thought to her and held out his hand, willing her to understand and come to him. When she moved forward and grasped his fingers, it was as if a thunderbolt shuddered through him and his cock hardened in a sudden aching rush. He growled and tightened his grip in case she had any thoughts of changing her mind and retreating.

He urged her closer until she was practically in his lap, which suited him perfectly, because once she opened her legs he could be inside her in seconds. She tugged on his hand and he reluctantly released her only to shiver as she placed her fingers on his cheek and stared right into his eyes. He let the dagger fall gently to the floor, aware only of her soft breathing and the pounding of his heart.

“Blóð af blóði minu.”

He licked a line along the seam of her lips and she moaned something. Cupping her head in his hands, he gently kissed her until she was kissing him back, her tongue in his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips and…

“Fjandi!” He tried to jerk his head away but it was too late. The she-devil pierced his skin with something and everything went black…

Frey let out her breath in a sudden rush as the Viking beneath her went still. She could only hope that the stun gun would hold him long enough to secure him in a safe place. Gods, he’d tasted so fine she hadn’t wanted to stop kissing him. She made sure he was still breathing and then focused on the task at hand.

“Slavin? Get Brown and his team down to the engine room ASAP. I have the Viking.”

Einarr was aware of being lifted and carried out of his hiding place. His female walked in front of him holding open the doors. She’d betrayed him. Anger coalesced in his gut and the metal of his armbands grew warm, illuminating the runes etched into their surfaces in the darkness.

As if she sensed the emergence of his magic, the female raised some kind of alarm and pointed at him. It was too late. He was already on the move, smashing his fist into one of the men who carried him whilst sending a burst of magical power through the second. As both men went down, Einarr rolled over and came back to his feet, his hand already shooting out to grab the female.

She screamed once as he slammed his hand over her mouth and drew her hard against his chest, his dagger at her throat. The other male took one look at him and backed away, his mouth moving, his words unintelligible as he spoke urgently to the captive female.

Without waiting, Einarr pivoted on his heel and began to drag his female back to where he’d made his stand before. She tried to fight him, but he was twice her size and still enraged by her dishonorable tactics. She struggled to free one hand and slapped it against his neck.

With a growl, he caught her fingers and threw her over his shoulder. Her breath slammed out as he picked up the pace and jogged down the tight passageway between the tall iron containers. Eventually, he let her down, but wrapped a hand around her throat to keep her exactly where he could see her. He used his other hand to investigate his neck.

“Don’t take that off.”

His fingers froze.

“It’s a universal translator strip. FREN programmed it with Old Norse.”

He felt the edges of something foreign against his skin but didn’t remove it. She twisted around to gaze up at him, her brown eyes wide.

“You can understand me now, right?”

He nodded.

“Great.” She swallowed hard, her throat working against the blade of his dagger. “So, could you put the knife away while we talk?”

He shook his head and her skin went pale.

“You can’t understand me?”

He sank down to his knees bringing her with him, her back to his chest, one of his hands still at her throat, the other around her hips. On impulse he leaned forward and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her flowery scent and the throb of her blood beneath her skin. With great care he bit down on the curve of her throat until she jumped.

“My female,” he growled.

“I certainly am not yours.”

“Mine.” He bit harder, and she tried to pull out of his grasp. “Mine by blood and magic.”

“I’m not magic and my blood is my own, thank you very much.”

“You will change your mind when you are under me begging for my cock and my seed.”

“I…will not! That’s disgusting, I—”

“You will beg.” He wrapped her ponytail around his fingers and drew her face to his for a savage kiss.

She bit his lip and he cursed and released his grip on her hair.

Her bravery impressed him. He settled her closer within the grip of his thighs until her arse was against his leather-clad groin. His cock kicked up and he fought a groan. He’d have her soon; have her spread beneath him while he fucked her hard, but not yet, not quite yet.

“They’ll be coming to get you,” she whispered. “There isn’t anywhere for you to run.”

“I don’t run.”

The last time he’d done that, he’d been encased in ice by a fickle and demanding God.

“Good,” she breathed. “Then put down your weapons, and we can work this out.”

“Nay.” He pressed the edge of his dagger against her throat. “Tell me, sorceress, how you called me from my sleep.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You lie.”

She shivered. “There was an eclipse. The systems went haywire. You just appeared out of nowhere.”

“I do not understand your words.” He pressed a little harder. “Your blood called me. I felt it in my soul.”

“That makes no sense. I didn’t call you. I—” She went still and then started talking, babbling like a brook in high season, making it difficult for him to follow her. “I pricked my finger—there was one drop of blood, but it came from the ice, it wasn’t… Oh dear Gods, what happened?”

“You called to me.”

She subsided against him. “Well, something happened because here you are. Maybe it was both, the eclipse and the blood.”

“What is this eclipse?”

“When the planets aligned and covered the Pavlovan moons of Odin and Thor.”

He didn’t understand half her words, but at least something made sense. “You know of my Gods?”

“I’ve studied up on them.” She sighed. “Will you please put the dagger away? You’re scaring me.”

He looked down at her auburn head. “Nay.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Let them?” He snorted. “I am a match for any man. I do not hide behind my womenfolk.”

“You can’t win this one. You have no idea where you are, what’s been happening, or where you are going.”

“This could be one of Loki’s tricks. I could be dreaming the whole thing.”

“I wish I was dreaming.” She tried to straighten and then winced as his blade grazed her neck. “I can’t let you run around this ship killing people and destroying things.”

“That decision isn’t yours to make, woman.”

“You’re kidding, right? I can give the order to have you shot right now.”

“And kill yourself?”

“We have weapons that could take you out and not damage a hair on my head. Please believe me.”

He picked up the stick he’d taken from the guard and tossed it in his palm. “This paltry thing?”

Her fingers closed around his wrist. “For the Gods’ sake, put it down! If it goes off, it could take out the engines of this ship or rip through the hull, and we’d all plummet to our deaths.”

He considered that, his fingers moving over the shining metal tube and handle. “But I wish to die gloriously in battle and take my place in Valhalla.”

“Oh please, don’t say that.” She hesitated. “Don’t you wish to see if your companion survived the ice, too?”

He stiffened. “My brother Aki is here?”

“Not on this ship. He is being taken to Alpha Three to be defrosted just like you were.”

“De-frosted?”

“You were both found encased in ice in the city of York on Earth. Alpha Base Three is the only place in this planetary alliance with the necessary technology to even attempt to bring you back to life.”

Again, almost nothing she said made sense. “But I am alive.” He flexed his muscles.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

“Then perhaps my brother is alive, too.”

She tried to turn her head to look at him. “I could find out, but you’d have to let me go.”

“Or I can accompany you while you find out.”

She dug her elbow into his side. “You’re not being very cooperative.”

“Why should I be? You’ve already deceived me once.”

“Because it’s safer for you to be in a controlled environment where we can talk without anyone getting hurt.”

Einarr snorted. “As if such a place exists. No man can be trusted.”

“Not even your brother?”

Frey gasped as the Viking lifted her up and turned her to face him. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at his eyes, which were the pale blue of a Husky dog’s and far icier. His black hair was shaved on the sides, braided at the back and then gathered at the base of his neck. It wasn’t a handsome face, but it was a compelling one. She knew she’d never forget him. But how to persuade him to come out of hiding and release her?

He shrugged as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “My brother can take care of himself.”

“Alone?” She blinked slowly at him. “Don’t you want to see him again?”

A muscle flexed in his square jaw, and Frey resisted an urge to touch his unsmiling mouth. He’d sat her across his lap, her thighs spread over his crossed knees, her sex pressed against his groin. She could feel the throbbing heat of his concealed cock inches from the sudden wet need of her arousal. The reality of his presence was a million times better than the fevered dreams she’d had since embarking on the voyage. She’d dreamed of being his, of being tangled up naked in bed with him while they fucked for hours… And she was aroused now. She wanted to strip him out of his leathers and lick his skin…

His blue eyes narrowed, and he spread his fingers over her ass, pushing her even closer to the stiff temptation of his erection. She brought her hand up and braced it against his massive chest.

“Let me go.”

“You want me,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I think you understand me very well.” He rocked his hips. “I can smell your desire, and you know I am already hard for you.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “It’s not that simple.”

“Aye it is. I free my cock and I’ll be inside you in less than a moment.” He glanced down at his lap. “I’m big. I would satisfy you well.”

She smothered a groan as he settled her even more intimately over him. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She glared at him. “Because it wouldn’t, okay? Just because I’m acting a little weirdly around a telepath doesn’t mean there’s anything in particular going on, like I want to mate with you or anything…” Frey stopped speaking. Oh dear Gods. This was exactly like the health unit Teacher Forbes had shown them during their junior space camp training: The inconvenient nature of telepathic attraction and finding mates where you least expect them. But this male was a four-thousand-year-old Viking! He wasn’t Pavlovan or even an Etruscan.

He was her science project.

And she wanted to fuck him more than she wanted to breathe.

“What is wrong?”

His low voice made her jump.

“Nothing! As I said, we need to get you into a safe and secure area.” She was aware that she was jabbering and that he still held her tightly against the big, hard, hot rod of his cock…

“You want me.” He slowly inhaled. “I need to fuck you. I can sense your desire in your blood.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything,” she snapped back. “Now behave yourself and come and be officially welcomed by the captain and crew.”

He cupped her cheek, his remarkable eyes moving over her face. “Nay.”

She moaned as he bent and took her mouth in a savage kiss of possession. His hands shifted, locking her hard against his body until she was rubbing herself shamelessly against him like Armstrong the cat. Her clit was throbbing, her nipples were hard, and she was so wet that if he’d touched her sex she’d easily take his cock.

“Not easily. I’m big. I’d need to get you ready with my mouth and my fingers,” he crooned to her as his mouth ravished hers. “But by Odin, I would serve you well.”

She thought she whimpered. She couldn’t even protect her most intimate thoughts from him. Kissing him was more arousing than having full sex with any of her previous partners. It just felt so right. As if she’d been waiting for this moment for the whole of her life. It was incredible. Oh Gods, if she kept this up she was going to come and he was bound to notice, and then he’d fuck her, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him, maybe for days, and…

“Just hold him there.”

Even as she recognized Slavin’s voice, the big Viking beneath her jerked and went still, his head falling back to strike against the metal storage unit behind him. A dart bristled in the crease of his neck.

No! Had she screamed that out loud? She hoped she hadn’t. Frey forced herself to slide out of the Viking’s arms and step away. Brown and his two assistants picked up the unconscious form and this time took off as fast as they could to the tiny brig.

“Are you okay?” Slavin crouched down beside her.

“Not really.” Frey forced down a shudder of pure, frustrated lust.

Slavin grinned. “You looked like you were quite enjoying being mauled.”

“I was.” Frey stood up. “He’s a telepath.”

“I got that. He isn’t very clear to me.”

“He’s way too clear to me.” She switched into telepathic mode. “I’m struggling to keep my hands off him.”

Slavin put her hand on Frey’s arm. “What?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Well, they do say we might meet our mates anywhere.” Slavin gave her a tentative grin. “My instructor at university was Etruscan and was brought here by a Pavlovan soldier after her unit abandoned her during a mission.”

“That’s slightly different to a four-thousand-year-old Viking.” Frey started walking again. “I feel like such a fool. How am I going to explain this to my mothers?”

“You’re that certain he’s the one?”

“Well, he’s one of the ones,” Frey muttered. “I feel it in my soul.” She squared her shoulders. It felt stupid even saying such dramatic and life-changing words, but she’d learned never to lie to herself. “And now I have to forget all of that and just make sure he stays alive.”

5

Einarr considered the shackles that had been put on his ankles and wrists and how easily he could remove them. There was also something attached to his upper arm through a long needle buried in his skin. The healer had told him it was for nutritional purposes, whatever that meant. Brown, one of his guards, had simplified the matter and said it was food and water and necessary to keep him alive.

He’d developed a grudging respect for Brown who didn’t treat him like a fool, but also refused to leave him alone for a second. Not that he couldn’t escape in the blink of an eye… His female had made a good point. Learning where he was and about his brother’s fate could only help him plan his future escape. He’d already decided that whatever happened he would be taking his woman with him.

Apart from the bars on the door, the cell bore no resemblance to any similar structure he’d been incarcerated in on an unsuccessful raid. There was no wood, only smooth white surfaces that resisted his attempts to break them. He slammed his fist against the unforgiving wall and then continued his pacing. The lights were giving him a headache and were brighter than the noon sun. He hated this place. It made him yearn to fight his way out with whatever weapons he could find and destroy everything.

The door unlocked from the outside and Brown stood to attention as another older man came in. Einarr recognized him as one of the men who’d been hunting him earlier.

“I’m Travis, captain of this vessel.”

Einarr inclined his head an inch and kept his gaze bland.

“We wish you no harm, Viking. Our intention is to take you to Alpha Three where you will be reunited with your companion from the ice.”

Travis sat down as Einarr continued to study him before taking the seat opposite. Eventually, Travis looked back over his shoulder at the guard and asked,

“Can he understand me, Brown?”

“Yes, sir. The translator is working perfectly.”

“Then he’s not choosing to cooperate.”

“I wouldn’t say that either, sir. He’s still sitting here.”

“You believe he’s a security risk?”

“Yes, sir. Despite his advanced age, he has unusual abilities.”

Reluctant to allow the captain’s thoughts to stray in that direction, Einarr sat forward. “I understand. Where is the female?”

“Which one?”

“The one who trapped me.”

“You mean Slavin? She shot the tranquilizer dart at you, but it was on my orders.”

“Not her. The one who ensnared me with her kisses.”

An expression of discomfort crossed the captain’s face. “Science Officer Frey is confined to her quarters until we reach Alpha Three.”

“I want her.”

“She is not available.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.” Einarr turned away and lay down on his bunk, his gaze on the shining white ceiling.

“What do you mean?” Travis blustered. “I am authorized to negotiate with you.”

Einarr didn’t bother to reply. Either they wanted to talk to him and they fetched his female, or he’d go and find her himself.

After another muttered conversation, the captain left. Brown sighed and sat down again.

“You’ve done it now, mate. The captain doesn’t take kindly to anyone undermining his authority, and he’s already got it in for our Science Officer.”

Her name was Frey…like the goddess.

Closing his eyes and radiating a sense of complete relaxation, Einarr sought Frey in his mind. She wasn’t in pain, or in fear of her life. That was good. She was, however, angry and frustrated. He felt the same. Having her in his arms had felt right somehow—as if she belonged there. He didn’t question such feelings. They came from the Gods and the source of his magic. She called to his blood. That was enough.

Smiling, he remembered how her lips felt and the way she’d stroked and sucked his tongue into her mouth. How would her lips feel parted around his thick rod? How would his mouth feel against the wetness of her lower lips as he plunged his tongue inside her?

His cock stirred and he cupped a hand over it.

“Stop it, Viking.” Frey’s voice echoed in his head.

He ran a finger along the hardness of his shaft as she responded to him. The thought of having her, of finally possessing her flesh, was the only thing that made sense to him in this frightening world. “I’m thinking how I’m going to make you scream when I put my mouth on your cunt and plunge my tongue deep inside you.”

“You’re not going to do anything of the kind. You’re in the brig.”

She sounded…disappointed.

“Do not doubt me. Frey, I will have you naked and under me before very long. You’ll scream for me. I know it.”

“When I’m locked in my cabin?”

“If you want me, I’ll come to you.”

“Yeah, right.”

He wasn’t sure what her words meant, but he knew she doubted him. And, in truth, he wasn’t sure he could magic himself to her side in this strange, cold metal ship, but he would certainly try if she needed him. And if he couldn’t get out, perhaps he could make sure she came to him.

He opened one eye and glanced over at Brown. Perhaps it was time to be diplomatic.

“Tell your captain that I am willing to speak to him, but only if the woman Frey is present.”

Frey stood up as her cabin door was unlocked. She tried to look calm as Ross came in, his weapon out and armed. This whole situation was crazy and not how she had envisioned meeting one of her mates at all. Her birth mother had told her that meeting her First Male had been unforgettable and that even though he’d later deserted their family, she still loved him. Frey hadn’t understood or accepted any of that until the thought of not seeing the Viking again made her want to scream and pull out her hair. Which was a ridiculous way to feel about someone you had only just met—even if they had shoved their tongue down your throat and made you want to throw off your clothes and simply fuck them forever.

“Tecky? Come on, you’re wanted.”

She followed him down the passageway, aware of a second armed security guard behind her. They halted at the holding room next to the brig, and Ross held onto her arm.

“Go in slowly and keep your hands visible. The Viking and Captain Travis are already at the table.”

Frey did as she was told, blinking at the stark lighting of the cell and the minimal furnishings. Her Viking sat on one side of the table, his wrists shackled, his fingers linked together. He looked up as she entered the room, his icy blue gaze fixing on her. She couldn’t look away. After a long moment, he stared down at the scarred white table top, and she was able to breathe again.

“Tecky.” Captain Travis gestured for her to sit beside him. “I’ve already told our guest that I am willing to answer any questions he has. He insisted that you were present for his debriefing.” He fixed her with a compelling stare. “I expect you to follow my lead and only answer when I give you permission to speak. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.” Frey took a seat.

Being so close to the Viking meant she could finally study the intricate leatherwork of his jerkin and the tattoos that encircled his wrist and moved up his left arm before disappearing within his sleeve. Runes marked the sides of his shaved scalp and his crow-colored hair was woven and plaited together into one single braid. Her fingers curled and uncurled. Did he ever untie his hair? How would it look flowing freely over his shoulders?

“Tecky…”

She jumped and returned her attention to Travis.

“Yes, sir?”

“Pay attention.”

“Yes, sir.” It was proving hard to do that when all she wanted to do was leap over the table and grab any part of the Viking she could get her hands on and lick him…

“I would like it if you did that. You could start with my cock.”

His thought floated over to her, and she realized he was staring at her mouth. She licked her lips, and he straightened in his seat. This was ridiculous. Her career was on the line and she was simpering like a teenager at the local bad boy.

“What is your name?” Travis asked.

“Einarr Bloodaxe.”

“What is the last thing you remember, Einarr?”

“Before waking up here?”

At Travis’s nod, the Viking leaned back in his chair, which creaked ominously.

“I was with my brother. We were attempting to evade our enemies.”

“And what happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Einarr shrugged, the motion as powerful as a panther’s. “One moment we were running, the next…we were caught within the ice.”

Frey stared hard at him, aware that although he was telling the truth, he wasn’t revealing everything. He didn’t look directly at her but she knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. She’d heard stories about how it felt to “meet your mate,” but she hadn’t imagined it would be so…powerful and primitive. If it were up to her, she’d drag him off to her cabin, get him naked and keep him there forever.

His knee bumped against hers under the table and she jumped. Travis shot an irritated glance at her and she realized he’d been speaking.

“Anything to add, Science Officer?”

“Only that I have informed FREN and Alpha Base Three about your present condition, Einarr, and have asked for information about the other ship. Due to interference from the eclipse and the current positions of the planets Thor and Odin, I haven’t received a reply yet.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Travis cleared his throat. “Do you wish me to explain where you are now?”

“That would be helpful.”

Einarr looked and sounded far more relaxed than he felt. Frey had a sudden image of a caged feline pacing back and forth waiting to strike. Should she warn the captain?

“I won’t hurt them unless I have to, Frey.”

His thought came through clearly to her. It was disconcerting to have someone reading her mind so easily.

“You are currently on a space ship bound for Alpha Base Three, a research lab on one of Odin’s moons.”

Einarr’s smile was dismissive. “I do not understand most of your words. I also do not understand how we appear to be sailing though the night sky. I thought at first that I was dreaming—perhaps I still am.”

“You were encased in ice for a very long time,” Travis said carefully. “Things have changed. Technology has advanced our understanding of our world and the universe around it.”

A slight crease appeared between Einarr’s brows. “How long was I asleep for?”

Travis took a deep breath. “About four thousand Earth years.”

“Four thousand? When most men are dead at five and forty?” Einarr shook his head. “This is impossible. It must be the work of the Gods.”

“I assure you that it is not only possible, but true. You are living proof of that. When we get to Alpha Three, there will be a team of experts available to help you adjust to your new life. No one expected you to wake up at this point. We still don’t understand why you did.”

Einarr half-smiled, the shock still reverberating in his eyes. “The Gods called me.” He nodded at Frey. “She called me with her blood.”

Travis shot her a look. “Are you suggesting Science Officer Frey somehow brought you out of the ice?”

“Aye. Otherwise, why else would I be here?”

Silence filled the small space as Captain Travis swung his attention back to Frey.

“Would you care to elaborate on this, Tecky?”

She stared into his eyes. “I did nothing that wasn’t authorized by FREN, sir. You can ask them to confirm that when we reestablish contact. Our guest is obviously disoriented and seeking solutions within his own understanding of his religion and culture.”

“I am not,” Einarr interrupted her. “I know what is right.”

“Captain…” Frey ignored him and tried to keep talking. “I did nothing wrong.”

“Except join your blood to mine when I was still trapped within the ice.”

“I did not! I—”

Travis held up his hand. “This is not an appropriate time to discuss the reasons why this happened. Our focus now is on getting Einarr safely to Alpha Three without further injury to him or this crew.” He turned to the Viking. “You will remain in the brig under the care of our medical team until we dock at Alpha Three.”

“I will not.” Einarr said.

Travis, who was in the process of getting to his feet, stiffened. “Then you want me to get the doc to knock you out for the remainder of this journey? I can do it, you know.”

“I want to stay with Frey.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Then I will not cooperate with you.” Einarr smiled and lifted his manacled hands. There was a flash of bright light and the metal rings flew off and clattered to the floor.

Weapons clicked and locked ready to fire, surrounding him.

“I am certain you do not wish to harm me, Captain. In truth, I suspect that your overlords wish very much for me to stay alive.” He glanced around the tense circle of armed men. “I wish to be given the freedom of the ship and access to Frey’s company and quarters. If you agree to this, I swear on my Gods that I will not harm your crew or damage your ship.”

Travis didn’t lower his weapon. “I cannot give one of my crew into your hands. I will not have my science officer held hostage to your demands.”

“She will not consider herself my hostage.” Einarr ripped the needle out from his arm, stood up and held out his hand. “Tell your captain that you come to me willingly, Frey.”

She took a step toward him, her expression troubled. Her slim fingers slid into his, and he squeezed them hard.

She faced the captain, her chin held high. “If it means the rest of the crew are safe, I’m willing to stay with him, sir.”

“Are you sure about this?” Travis asked again.

“Yes.”

Travis continued to ignore Einarr and spoke directly to the female. “If we receive fresh information or instructions from FREN, you must promise to obey any orders.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You are responsible for the good behavior of this man.”

“I understand.”

Travis stared into Einarr’s eyes. “And if you hurt her, you’re dead regardless of what Alpha Three or FREN think. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain. You have my word.” Einarr studied the other man for a long moment. “On my honor, after sleeping for four thousand years, I do not wish to die just yet.”

“Good.” Travis nodded brusquely. “Keep it that way.”

Einarr remained on his feet, his hand gripping Frey’s until the shackles were removed from his ankles and the room emptied. His own weapons had been taken from him earlier. He felt naked without his axe and dagger.

“Answer me this, Frey,” Einarr commanded. “How is it that your blood called to mine, and yet you deny it?”

She sat down at the table and he followed her, still grasping her wrist. She heaved a sigh and lowered her gaze.

“I suppose it depends on how you look at it.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Einarr frowned at her even though she was avoiding looking at him.

“I was given new codes to input in the probes FREN inserted in the ice. Somehow, I picked up a droplet of ice that looked like a ruby. I thought it might be rust or frozen blood from where the probe had touched your scalp, but I had no idea how it got out. I balanced it on my finger and it seemed somehow to prick my skin and I began to bleed.” She finally looked up at him, her brown gaze worried. “I put my finger in my mouth to suck off the blood. That’s all I did, I swear it.”

“My blood to your blood. It was enough,” Einarr said firmly.

“But it doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me.”

“How? How the heeze can that wake you from a four-thousand-year sleep?”

He smiled down at her. “Because you are my female, and obviously it was Fated.”

“That we’d be on the same ship during an eclipse with planets named Thor and Odin and that one drop of our blood would mix?” She frowned at him. “You do know that is ludicrous, right? And, that the odds of it happening are too small to even calculate. Not that you could even calculate this…”

She drew a shaky breath. Before she could continue, Einarr put his finger over her lips. He’d noticed that she tended to talk a lot when she was nervous. The fact that he made her nervous amused him greatly considering he was the one facing an existence that made no sense.

“It happened, Frey. I am here. You cannot doubt my presence.”

She nodded as he brushed his finger over her full lower lip and her mouth opened slightly. He wanted to ease his finger between her lips and have her suck on it until he could persuade her to take his cock there instead.

Heat shot through him as she sighed a curse and leaned into him. “This is ridiculous, you know.”

“What is?”

“This whole situation.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up. “You don’t wish to help me?”

“I wish…” Her gaze devoured him, making his cock harden in a sudden aching rush. She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll show you around the ship, okay?”

“I am at your disposal.” He bowed.

His woman was amusing. They both knew she would allow him—nay, welcome him—into her bed, yet she held him at bay. She couldn’t fool him. The very air throbbed with the force of what was between them. He only felt this way when he used his magic during a secret ritual or was in the presence of the Gods.

She’d called him back to life. He had yet to understand the Gods’ purpose in using her to do so, but he was more than willing to go along with their plans. He was also anxious to hear of Aki’s fate. Receiving that information rested on his ability to behave himself. He’d learned early in life that he could only control his own fate and that worrying about others did nothing useful. In his present circumstances, such hard-earned patience was very necessary.

Any other man from his village finding himself suddenly aged four thousand years and traveling through the stars would probably have gone mad and hacked his way out of the place. It was only his belief in his Gods and his knowledge of the magical arts that kept him on an even keel. He could only hope that if Aki was awake, he had reacted in the same way.

But would Aki awaken without the lure of a female’s blood? Despite being twins, Aki’s temper was far worse than Einarr’s. He hoped with all his heart that his brother remained frozen.

Opening the now unlocked door, Frey stepped out into the passageway, nodding at Brown who had stationed himself outside. Einarr paused to appreciate the rear view of his woman in the strange blue garb that covered her like a second skin and displayed the length of her legs and nicely rounded arse. Her red hair was tied back at the neck, displaying the soft skin of her throat. He yearned to set his teeth in that soft hollow and hold onto her while he fucked her from behind…

Her skin flushed pink, and he fought a smile. Soon he would be inside her. He couldn’t wait… It was strange. Other things in his world might have changed beyond recognition, but the mating of a man and woman, the need to be fucked and touched, remained the same.

He followed her along to the place where he’d found food the previous night. Four new faces gawked at him as Frey introduced him and then offered him something to eat before they moved on.

One of the men came forward and gazed appreciatively up at Einarr.

“You’re a big guy. You ate all my bread, didn’t you?”

“Aye, it was very good.”

The man grinned. “Thanks, I made more. Would you like a sandwich?”

Einarr glanced at Frey who nodded. “You’d probably like it. Do you have any meat to put in the middle, Heald?”

“I have sliced pigcow.”

“Then we’ll take two of those.” Frey touched Einarr’s arm. “Come and sit down while Heald makes the sandwiches.”

He followed her to one of the tables set close to the clear rectangles showing the stars. While she took a seat, he walked over and placed his palm on the transparent surface. The distortion told him whatever the substance was, it was thick. Did it keep out the blackness much as a strongly made longboat kept out water? A wash of longing for the sea and the simple comforts of home came over him and he briefly closed his eyes.

“Are you okay, Einarr?”

“What is this?” Einarr shook off his melancholy.

“It’s like glass.” Frey came to stand next to him, her shoulder aligned with his. “You had glass, right?”

“Nothing like this.” He smoothed his hand over the surface. “What would happen if it cracked and let in the stars?”

“We’d all die. The ship has to be sealed tight because there isn’t any air in space.”

“We’d suffocate?”

“Yes, within seconds.”

He swiftly took his hand away. With his magical powers, he didn’t want to inadvertently kill everyone. The fragrant smell of roasting meat caught his attention and he turned back to the table where Heald was putting out two platters. Each contained a large round of bread with something on top of it and another round of bread atop that.

He sat down on the bench and watched as Frey did the same. She picked up the food and bit into both slabs of bread. He copied her actions and had his portion finished in four bites. The meat smelled better than it tasted.

“What animal is this?” he asked.

Frey, who was only halfway through her first wedge of bread, chewed briskly and wiped her mouth. “It’s a genetically constructed creature which contains elements of both pork and beef. We call it pigcow.”

“It tastes unlike anything I have ever had before.”

She shrugged. “It’s pretty terrible. It’s great for space travel because it keeps for years.”

“Like dried meat.”

“Yes.” She looked down at her platter. “Would you like to have the rest of mine? I’m not that hungry.”

He frowned at her. “You are already too slender. Finish your food, woman.”

“Slender?” She glanced down at her ample bosom. “I think I like you.”

After she’d finished, and he’d been given some water and a bright red apple that looked too perfect to eat, they moved on. Einarr kept his attention on the ship and tried to ignore both the huge blackness outside and his fears of what would happen to him next. Nothing about the vessel made sense to him, and the idea that he couldn’t simply jump off the side and live was difficult to comprehend.

He tried to remind himself that the Gods had brought him back to life at this point in time for a reason. He might not yet understand their plans—who could? Eventually all would be revealed, and he would collect his reward in Valhalla. He paused to consider the endless darkness outside.

If Valhalla still existed four thousand years in the future… Did anyone worship his Gods anymore? And if they weren’t worshipped, had they ceased to exist? Terror stirred in his gut, sending cold black fingers of doubt and fear into his mind like a rapidly growing weed.

Frey’s voice came back to him, jarring him from his thoughts.

“Am I making sense so far?” She looked back over her shoulder, her smile dying. “I know this must be very difficult for you. Tell me to stop when I babble.” She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I do tend to go on a bit.”

“I understand that I am on a vessel in space and that eventually we will land somewhere. That is enough for me.” Einarr forced the words out.

Her shoulders sagged. “And I’ve been rattling on about all kinds of stuff you don’t need to know.”

He reached out and took her hand, felt her immediate reaction to him. “I enjoy hearing you speak.”

“Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” She looked up into his eyes.

“You already know what I want, Frey.” He sucked one of her fingers into his mouth. “You naked, your legs wrapped around my waist, and your fingers clawing my back while I fuck you.”

She swallowed and bit her lip. “I meant anything else about the ship. We still haven’t seen my lab or the bridge.”

He kissed her hand and then licked her palm. “Then lead on.”

The bridge interested him because he could see how it was like navigating a ship at sea. Some of the words the crew used were even familiar to him. There was no chance of him taking control of the ship without him holding a weapon to the captain’s head and making him do all the work. He suspected he knew what Captain Travis would say to that idea.

The blond female who had shot him tapped her fingers on some instrument in front of her and watched figures moving on a square shape.

“Everything okay, Frey?” She smiled at Einarr. “Sorry I had to dart you.”

He inclined his head. “You must obey orders. I understand that.”

“Have we received any communications from FREN or TSA?” Frey asked.

“Nothing yet. I’ll contact you as soon as we do.”

“Thanks, Slavin.” Frey turned back to the door. “Let’s go and visit my lab.”

Einarr had a vague sense of already having passed through the passageways they now traversed on his earlier flight from the ice, but was still unprepared for the sight of the smashed and broken glass and buckled metal doors.

“I did this?” He turned in a slow circle.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “The security guard stationed outside this second door died in the blast.”

“The ice screamed and groaned and I was suddenly catapulted outward. I started to run the moment I realized I was free and still alive.”

She stepped through the debris and picked something up from the desk. “I’ll take this back to my quarters in case FREN needs to contact me.”

“Your quarters?” He smiled down at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, and don’t expect anything fancy. There isn’t enough room to swing an Earth cat.”

6

As she headed for her quarters, Frey was all too aware of the Viking pacing behind her. Luckily, he was tall so he could keep up with her. She should be embarrassed at how fast she was going, but she was beyond caring what anyone thought. She reached her cabin, punched in the codes and pushed open the door.

“This is my—”

They were the only words she got out before his mouth covered hers and he hauled her against his chest, her back to the door. With a gasp, she surrendered to his possessive kiss and enthusiastically writhed against the hard planes of his chest and the glorious bulge of his shaft.

His hands worked on her uniform, shoving it down off her shoulders to uncover her breasts. She tried to undo his leather jerkin but couldn’t work out how, so just continued to kiss him until he had her naked, her arms wrapped around his neck and her knees gripping his hips. With a deep growl, he unfastened his trews and then Gods… His stiff, wet cock probed for entrance and she took him in, each thrust a welcome invasion, each thick inch of him parting her willing flesh.

She started to come before he’d even fitted himself totally inside her. With a grunt, he shifted one hand under her ass, hoisted her even higher and drove himself home and then again until she was whimpering and crying with the pleasure of being filled and fucked by a big strong man who could read her mind. Even as their bodies joined, so did their thoughts, enhancing the experience, blending them together into something else entirely.

She screamed into his mouth when she came again, and he froze and surrendered to her, his come pumping out in long, thick waves until he started to shake with the force of it. When she felt him stagger, she pushed on his chest and guided him to fall back onto her small bed, his cock still inside her.

Her cheek rested on his leather armor and she smiled as he cursed slowly in his own language, the words so guttural that the translator had no thoughts to offer as to their meaning.

She sat up, making him groan, and patted his chest.

“Take everything off. I want to see you.”

He gave her a very slow and satisfied smile, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Help me, then.”

He showed her how to unlace the leather garments and where they opened. Without the modern conveniences of tape and self-sealing fabrics, it took a long time to finally unwrap her male. But it was worth it.

Frey wondered if she was drooling as she revealed his broad chest, tight abs and muscular arms. And his cock… She couldn’t wait to get her hands and mouth on him again.

“Be my guest,” he murmured as she stroked one hand down over his stomach to the curve of his hip. His skin was pale and marked with several scars. She intended to kiss every single one.

“Not yet.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his cock. “I want you again, skin to skin.”

She practically purred as he thrust his other hand into her hair and held her still until she leaned forward to kiss him. The tip of his cock brushed over her clit and she kept it there, using him to rub her most sensitive spot until he was as wet as she was and arching off the bed.

Shaking off his hands, she sat back and slowly lowered herself down over his thick shaft, relaying every sensation to him until she was fully seated on his impressive length. He took a deep breath, making his stomach flex.

“Ride me, Frey. Make me yours.”

She could barely hold his burning gaze as she eased up and then back down on him and then kept doing it as he shuddered beneath her. Faster now, and then his hand was on her hip helping her, grinding her down onto his cock until she could think of nothing but him, his body, his mind and how he made her feel.

His fingers slid down over her hip until his thumb touched her clit and then she came so hard she had to close her eyes against the pleasure. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t hide from him. He knew what he was doing to her, had known it from the first moment she touched him.

She’d had sex with telepaths before, but it had never felt like this. This was truly life changing… His grip on her hip became more demanding as he set his feet flat on the bed and pumped up into her, meeting her half-way like a bucking horse. He eased more upright, holding her steady and took her to another level of ecstasy she’d never realized existed, his mouth on her breasts as he strained upward to meet her.

“Frey...” He breathed her name like a prayer.

His climax made him hold her so tightly, she almost couldn’t breathe. As she joined him with her mind and body, all the lights in her cabin shimmered and burnt out, sending glass flying everywhere. She couldn’t work out if the whole cabin structure was flexing or if it was just her bed.

“Tecky?” The banging on the door made her want to groan in a different way. “Are you okay in there? The door locks jammed.”

“We’re fine,” she yelled. “Don’t come in, there’s glass all over the floor. I’m going to clean it up.”

“We need a visual on you, Tecky, right now. You and the Viking, copy?”

She knew Brown would break down the door if she didn’t comply. With a curse, she grabbed her com device, wrapped her arm around Einarr’s neck and pointed the viewfinder back at their flushed faces.

“See? We’re fine. Now go away. If I need anything, I’ll communicate with Slavin, okay?”

There was a snort of laughter, another bang on the door and then the noise went away. Frey lay back down, her head under the Viking’s chin.

“We blew out the lights.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We don’t need light.”

“True, but we could end up getting cut to ribbons if we have to get out of bed.”

“Why would you wish to do that?”

“To pee, or to take a shower maybe?”

“Ah.” He held her close, his thumb stroking from neck to shoulder. “What is a shower? Like rain?”

“Kind of like an indoor waterfall.”

His fingers stopped moving. “That’s how we were trapped in the ice. Aki and I tried to cross through a cave behind an underground waterfall. We didn’t make it to the other side.” He sighed. “My grandfather told me it was an escape route. I didn’t think he meant a magical one that would transport us into the future.”

“Your family all had special powers?”

“Not all. Maybe one or two in each generation and always when there were twins.”

“You and Aki are twins?”

“Aye.” He settled her more comfortably against his shoulder so that she could look up at his face. “My family have been sorcerers and seers and wise men to the great families of the northern lands for centuries. Some of us also have the gift of reading each other’s thoughts.”

“We have a family like that on my planet, but all the seers are female. I believe the line has been unbroken for centuries.”

“Your planet?”

“I’m from Pavlovan. It’s closer to here than your planet Earth is.”

He shook his head. “I still find the idea that my world is only one of many quite unbelievable. But here I am.” He hesitated, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated his chest. “My world does still exist?”

“Sure it does. I was based there last year. That’s why I got the opportunity to accompany you back to Alpha Three, seeing as I was going home anyway.” It was her turn to sigh. “I think you’ll find it changed beyond recognition.”

“I thought as much.”

Frey patted his chest. “There will be people on Alpha Three to help you through this. You and your brother are not the first people to be reborn into a different century. There was a fad on Earth for cryogenic freezing at the end of the twentieth century. Some of those people and body parts have been successfully revived.”

“But no one as old as me and Aki.”

“I don’t think so.” Frey came up on one elbow and studied her Viking’s austere face. “They’ll help you. They really are very good at what they do.”

He regarded her for a long moment and then cupped her cheek. “You are kind.”

“I’m…” She tried to smile. “I’m a complete free-fall mess at the moment. I have no idea what I’m doing, I certainly shouldn’t be sleeping with you, and I’m definitely going to lose my job. But I don’t care. I couldn’t keep away from you if I tried.” She was obviously a lot more like her carefree, commitment-phobe father than she’d realized.

“Of course you couldn’t stop yourself. We are fated to be together.”

“Fated and mated,” Frey whispered. Two different cultures and races separated by thousands of miles and years. Was it possible that they both wanted the same thing?

“Are you okay with this?” She waved vaguely at her naked body, which was still entwined with his. “I can stop—”

“I can’t.” He rolled her onto her back and pushed her thighs wide with his knees. “Take me again.”

When Einarr finally fell asleep, Frey untangled herself and switched on the emergency light on her com to survey the damage. Glass sparkled on the floor—the automatic cleaning system hadn’t done its job and sucked away the debris. Crawling to the foot of her bunk, she placed her hand on the power control panel and used her telepathic abilities to sense the problems and repair the damaged fibers.

It didn’t take more than a minute for the vacuum system to quietly come back online and clear the floor. She spent another moment reconnecting the lights and reinforcing both the door locks and the security precautions she’d put in place to secure the cabin from the rest of the ship. She’d probably get in trouble for that, too, but at this point, she was so far out of line that it hardly seemed to make much difference.

In the bathroom, she studied her face in the small mirror. Apart from some red patches of stubble burn on her throat, she looked exactly the same. Weird when her whole world had changed… She took a deep breath. It seemed she couldn’t escape her genetics after all. Despite trying to live her life in a controlled and, quite frankly, boring manner, she’d lost all sense of responsibility the moment she’d met Einarr.

Whatever happened in the future, she would never forget her Viking and the gift he’d given her—the knowledge of what a true mated pair felt and thought together. And, unlike her father, who had never intended to stay with her mother and just lied, she’d make sure that when Einarr left her she’d wave him goodbye with a smile and never let him know what he might have meant to her.

She bit her lip as her smile faded. When they reached Alpha Three, they’d be separated. She’d have to face her employers, and he…would be facing months, if not years, of reintegration training. If his brother survived, at least he’d have someone to share the experience with. What would she have? A hurried dismissal and a transport back to Pavlovan if she was lucky. A public trial and prosecution if FREN were in a picky kind of mood.

But they’d given her the new codes… She’d just done what they’d told her to do. Which meant nothing. She’d touched the blood and added hers. She might be young, but she wasn’t naïve. FREN wasn’t known for its nurturing environment, and any blame, especially if Einarr failed to survive, would fall squarely on her. They couldn’t have known she’d find her mate, though. Would it make a difference if she told them? Would they let her stay with him? Somehow she doubted it.

She’d asked her grandmother once what it felt like when one of your mates died. She hadn’t expected to make her cry. It seemed that even thirty years after the event, a mate was still mourned. And she would be losing hers before she could even publicly claim or acknowledge him. But she couldn’t be selfish about this. Einarr deserved better.

He knew nothing about Pavlovan mating culture, and she refused to make a claim on him that he wouldn’t understand or might accept because he didn’t know any better. At her core, she wanted to own him, to make him hers, but knew that it would be selfish and wrong. She couldn’t expect him to make promises he had no intention of keeping. He’d end up hating and resenting her. She’d rather stop before she got involved and hope he was left in blissful ignorance of what might have been. That was the practical, sane thing to do. The thing the normal her wouldn’t think twice about.

With a sigh, she cleaned up and went back into the cabin. Her Viking lay sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and one leg bent at the knee. She paused to study his magnificence. What was that quote her mother loved? “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” or something? She couldn’t decide whether that was true or not. If she had her way, she’d fight with her bare hands to keep this male.

Her hands clenched into fists. She shouldn’t have touched him. She’d never get over him now.

“There’s no need to look so fierce, my female. Come back to bed.”

She started as she realized he was watching her through narrowed eyes. How long did they have together before the ship landed on Alpha Three? Hours? Days? She had no idea. It was too late for regrets. She only knew that she would stay glued to his side for every second that was granted to her and try and forget what would happen after that.

Einarr woke up again and was relieved to see that Frey was still with him. In truth, because of the narrowness of the cot, she lay sprawled over him, her cheek on his chest and her thigh across his groin. He had no sense of time. The ship sped through darkness which never seemed to end.

He sensed that she was troubled about something, but was unsure what it was. She’d tried to hold back her thoughts and her body from him during their last bout of lovemaking, and it wasn’t because she was tired or sore. It was as though she was deliberately building a wall between them. Didn’t she understand that he would never let her go? That he would fight and kill to keep her safe?

Perhaps things were different in her world, and mating with a man was always this powerful. That thought made him want to growl. She murmured something soothing against his chest and stroked his skin. He forced himself to settle down again. The ship hummed around them, its various sounds now familiar to Einarr and almost comforting. He thought of leaving the ship and finding out Aki’s fate. Had his twin survived within the ice or had the “eclipse” affected him, too?

If Frey hadn’t been with him, and he’d awakened by himself, would he still be alive? Her presence had soothed his fears and allowed him not to go into a blind panic at the strangeness of everything. If Aki woke up alone…

“What is it?”

She reached for him with her thoughts.

“I am wondering what has befallen Aki.” He cleared his throat and spoke his fear out loud. “I hope the Gods have looked kindly upon him.”

“Can you sense him?”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “How?”

She tapped his forehead. “With your thoughts.”

“Aki is not as strong as I am magically. I’m not sure if he would hear me over such vast distances.”

She came up on her elbows and leaned over him, her auburn hair tickling his skin.

“We could do it together.” She paused when he didn’t respond. “If you call him in your mind, I can add my telepathic strength, my thoughts, to yours.”

He studied her earnest expression and the line of freckles that drifted over her nose. “Show me.”

“Call his name. Shout it in your head.” Her fingers encircled the pulse at his throat. “That’s right, now…”

Her power flooded through him, sending Aki’s name booming out like Thor’s hammer into the darkness. He waited but heard nothing except the echo of his own words.

She sighed and kissed him. “It’s all right. We can try when we get closer to Alpha Three. It’s possible that he avoided any effects from the eclipse and is still frozen in the ice.”

“Or dead.”

“Would you sense that?”

He shrugged. “I do not know. I do not know anything anymore.”

She held his gaze. “I know that you are a strong man and that you will not let these strange and wonderful events break you.”

Her confidence in him shamed him. With a groan he speared his fingers through her hair and brought her head down so that he could kiss her. Who needed words when he had this? A blood link with the female who had made sure of his survival.

“Your people are all magical?” he asked softly.

“Magical?” She smiled at him. “Not really. We are all telepaths, which means we can talk without using the spoken word just like you and Aki can. The only Pavlovan family I’d consider magical is that of the Oracle. She has powers beyond the norm.”

“Does she use her power for the good of her people?”

“She foretells the future, and often finds Pavlovans their mates, which is pretty special.”

“Ah, she has the sight.” Einarr smoothed Frey’s hair away from her cheek. “I wish I had that gift.”

“Then you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

“I am glad to be with you, but still…” He hesitated. “I am afraid. I have no understanding of this place. I miss my home by the river and my family.” He had to swallow hard as his voice thickened. Would she think him a coward? “I am nothing, here.”

She cupped his cheek. “There is no shame in admitting you are afraid. That takes courage.” She kissed his nose. “If I’d woken up back in your time I’d be a raving lunatic by now.”

“Or dead,” he countered.

“Probably.” Her hand traveled down from his neck to his armbands. “I have no magic to save me either.” She traced the engraved marks. “These are runes, aren’t they? What do they say?”

“I cannot tell you the exact words because they are sacred. It is a prayer to Odin asking him to make me a channel for his power.”

Her fingers lingered on his arm, making all the fine hairs quiver to life.

“That’s why the armbands glowed when you were fighting.”

“Odin likes his servants to win.”

Her expression became serious. “Don’t tell them about your magic.”

“Tell who?”

“The scientists on Alpha Three. Especially not the ones from your home planet, because they don’t believe in magic anymore on Earth. They might tell FREN, and you don’t want them thinking of you as a potential weapon.”

“Who is Fren? Is he your earl or king?”

“FREN is an organization with similar powers to those of a king. But they aren’t good people, and they won’t use you or your powers for good.”

“But would they let me fight?”

“Not in the way you want. They’d take what they needed and you’d never be the same again.”

He frowned as her voice broke.

“These people are your enemies? Do you want me to kill them for you?”

“That’s very kind of you, but there are thousands of them. I just want you to be careful. I want you to survive.”

He studied her carefully, aware of her bone-deep concern for him. He touched her mouth. “Would you fight by my side like a shield maiden if Fren attacked us?”

She smiled. “I’d rather hide behind you. I’m not much of a fighter.”

With some difficulty in the narrow cot, he rolled her onto her back and crouched over her, his knees pushing her thighs wide.

“I would protect you.”

“I know.”

She was beautiful, his woman. Her skin pale and her hair the reddish brown of an autumn leaf on the turn. Soft in all the right places, too, but with a core of strength and practicality that had helped her face him without fear and convince him to live. He kissed her again and then allowed his lips to move lower, feathering down her throat to her breasts, where her tight, hard nipples awaited him. He took his time sucking them into his mouth and playing with them. She deserved to be worshipped and cherished.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured.

She gave a shaky laugh. “Flatterer. You just haven’t seen a woman for four thousand years. Anyone would look good.”

He kissed her slightly rounded stomach. “Nay. Only you. I only wish to please you.”

She moaned his name as he went lower, his tongue seeking and finding her already swollen bud and lavishing it with attention until she grabbed hold of his head, her nails digging into his scalp, and shuddered through a climax. He smiled against her throbbing flesh and, pointing his tongue, pushed it deep into her channel and then out again, mimicking the thrust of his cock. She was a little tender, but didn’t seem to be holding herself back from him in any way.

“Please…”

“Mmm?” He kept up the slow advance and retreat of his tongue as she started to writhe underneath him, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Please fuck me.”

“I am.”

She gave a frustrated whimper that pleased him greatly. “With your cock.”

He gave her one long, last lick and then sat back on his heels and smoothed a hand over the stiffness of his wet shaft. “This?” He looked down at himself. “Are you not sore?”

“I don’t care. I want you.”

“Then you will have me.”

She sighed as he eased the thick crown of his cock inside her. He rocked back and forth until she allowed him deeper and then deeper until he was fully sheathed inside her hot, slick sex.

He held himself still, allowing the beat of his heart to slow and match the throb of his cock. Taking his weight on one hand, he wrapped the other around both her wrists and drew her hands over her head. Her brown eyes widened as he stared down at her.

“When you are tired of taking me like this, will you let me have your mouth or your arse?”

She didn’t falter. “Yes.”

He slowly rocked his hips. “Have you taken a man like that before?”

“In my mouth, yes.” She wiggled underneath him. “Do we have to talk about this now, couldn’t you just—” She gasped as he moved a little faster. He liked her spread beneath him and impaled on his cock, liked the way her body trembled and swayed toward him, seeking more even when she was obviously tired.

“Did you like sucking a man’s cock?”

She made a face. “Not particularly.”

“You’ll like sucking mine. I’d like to see you on your knees taking me into your mouth and making me come down your throat.” His mind flowed into hers, showing her how he pictured it, making her want it as much as he did. “I wouldn’t force myself on you, you’d take me willingly, and beg for it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re that good are you?”

“The skill will be yours. Seeing your lips around my shaft will probably kill me.”

“How to bring a strong man to his knees…” she murmured.

“You would enjoy it.” Her slight smile made him want to smile back at her. “And my cock in your arse, too.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I haven’t tried that.”

“It is different, but it can be equally satisfying in its own way.” He closed his eyes as her flesh tightened around his embedded cock. “You are harder to fuck there, but then I can also use my fingers in your cunt and clit.”

“So I’ve heard. One of my sisters has two male mates, and she insists that having them together like that is the most amazing experience ever.”

“Two men?” Despite himself, Einarr’s hips started rocking back and forth, and his cock slid in and out of her. He forced himself to slow down, to give her everything without pounding into her with all his might. He almost succeeded, except she was as aroused as he was. She started to come all around his cock, clenching and releasing him until he could do nothing but follow her over the edge and pump his seed deep within her.

He released her hands and sank down over her, his face buried in her neck, his cock still inside her. Her hand came up and stroked his unbound hair.

“You really are incredible, you know.”

“I do my best to please.”

“Oh, I’m pleased. Can’t you tell?” She kissed him. “I just can’t believe that you want me. I mean, I’m nothing special. Slavin is a lot prettier than me and she’s a telepath and—”

He slid his hand over her mouth. “You are mine.”

She blinked and looked away from him. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It is the truth.” He removed his hand and stared down at her. “I am yours. You know this.”

She didn’t correct him, and after a long moment she nodded. “We should get some sleep. Then we can go and find out when we’ll arrive at Alpha Three.”

7

Frey kept her head high and her gaze level as she and Einarr entered the mess hall. Everyone was there, of course.

“Tecky.” Brown nodded to her. “Good job at keeping the Viking occupied in your cabin for thirty-six Earth hours. Don’t know how you managed it.”

Beside Frey, Einarr went still, his pale blue gaze coming to rest on Brown.

“We’re good, Brown. How close are we to Alpha Three?” She tried to maneuver Einarr into a seat, but he refused to budge. “I assume FREN still hasn’t been in contact, or else I would’ve heard.”

“We’ve heard nothing.” Slavin strolled over and smiled at Frey, putting herself between Einarr and Brown. “Alpha Three is only a few hours away. We’ll be preparing for landing fairly soon.”

Heald came out of the small galley kitchen with a couple of plates on a tray. “Sit down, Viking. We’re eating leftovers from the food stores. I’ve got eggs, pigcow and cheesera sandwiches for you both.” He winked at Frey as he set the food on the table. “I bet you need your strength.”

Frey contemplated crawling under the table. Was it that obvious that she and Einarr had spent their entire time alone fucking? From the way everyone was looking at them, she had to suspect it was. So much for her reputation as an uptight technician who never let her hair down…

“Where is Travis?” Einarr asked.

Slavin grimaced. “He’s trying to contact Alpha Three to give them a heads up on our anticipated arrival time. There is still a lot of interference from the eclipse. It’s proving hard to get through.”

“I hope everything’s okay down there,” Frey said. “It’s odd that we haven’t been able to raise anyone on any channel.”

“I know.”

Slavin sat down beside Frey, and Einarr finally joined them, his gaze moving between her and Slavin.

“Do you believe our destination is unsafe?”

“I don’t know.” Frey reached for her sandwich, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. “It’s probably fine. As it’s on one of the moons of Odin, it might have suffered a similar communications error to the one we had onboard ship.”

Einarr ate his sandwich in two bites and shoved the plate away. “I want my weapons returned to me.”

“You’ll have to speak to Captain Travis about that.” Slavin stood and pushed her chair in. “I’m going back to the bridge.”

“We’ll join you fairly soon.” At the thought that their journey was about to end, Frey’s appetite deserted her, and she passed the rest of the sandwich over to Einarr. He eyed her suspiciously but accepted her gift and ate it in seconds.

“When we’ve finished here and cleaned up my cabin, we need to go up to the bridge to prepare for our landing on Alpha Three.”

Einarr nodded, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. “Will the captain give me my weapons back before we land?”

“I doubt it.”

“But what if the base has been attacked?”

She stood up. “Apart from the odd spat between my people and the Etruscans, this section of space is mainly free of conflict. The only person who would attack the base would be your brother, so I don’t think you’ll be getting your weapons back.”

He shrugged, his expression calm. “I don’t need them.” He flexed his fingers. “I have all the power I need.”

“You promised not to use it on the ship.”

“But not when we land.” He shot her a hard blue stare. “Mark my words, Frey. If I need to defend you, or my brother, I will do so.”

Einarr waited as patiently as he could for Frey to finish her preparations and get ready to disembark the ship. After packing her possessions and delivering her bags to the cargo hold, she took him back up to the bridge.

“We’re going to sit here.”

Einarr took the seat she indicated and watched as she buckled him in and then did the same to herself. In front of him, he could see the rest of the crew. Some of them were engaged in bringing the ship ever closer to a purple and black sphere straight ahead of them. Captain Travis was issuing orders, his voice calm, his gaze fixed forward.

“All crew. Landing procedures will commence in one minute,” Slavin said. “Make sure you are in your approved seating. Thank you.”

The engines under his feet changed tone and roared deeper now, making the floor tremble and the upcoming planet tip alarmingly to one side. He fought back a desire to puke by swallowing hard and grabbed the armrest of his chair. Just as he did, a coil snaked out from behind his neck and wrapped itself around his throat and then into his ear and nose. He jerked forward with a growl.

“Don’t fight it, Einarr. It won’t hurt you. It’s just a precautionary safety measure in case the ship loses life support.”

Frey had obviously anticipated his desire to rip out the coiled wire and wrestle the thing to the ground. He tried to relax as the ship maneuvered again and came back toward the planet at some speed. Closing his eyes and praying seemed like the best option available, so he did that. Slavin’s voice continued to talk softly in his ear as she guided the ship in, communicating with someone on the ground at every step.

He kept his eyes closed even when the noise diminished, and when he felt the bump of solid ground beneath him, he breathed a prayer to the Gods.

“Ship is secured. Safety devices will deactivate in thirty seconds,” Slavin said. “Captain Travis requests that Tecky stay with our guest and disembark last.”

“Copy that,” Frey said.

He remained in his seat until the web of wires retreated, and he surreptitiously rubbed his throat. The crew filed out, glancing curiously at him and smiling at Frey who didn’t say a word. At last, only he, Frey and Captain Travis were left on the bridge. He wished he had his weapons. He had a sense that his welcome might not be as benign as Frey expected.

Travis came over, his expression guarded.

“Science Officer Frey, fall in behind me and the Viking and proceed to the docking bay.”

“Yes, sir.”

Einarr held out his hand. “Where are my weapons?”

“They have already been taken off the ship. I’m sure the personnel at Alpha Three will return them to you when they deem you sufficiently rehabilitated.”

“I would prefer to have them now.”

Travis sighed. “There is nothing to fear here, Viking. No one wants to hurt a hair on your head. You are a scientific miracle. Trust me. They want to keep you alive.”

Frey touched his sleeve. “He’s right, Einarr. No one will harm you.”

“Then we will proceed.”

He followed Travis down the narrow passageways, his feet sounding hollowly on the metal until he reached a square of light. Bracing himself, he took a step outside and immediately covered his eyes against the brightness beaming down on him. He stopped dead, and Travis paused beside him. A soft breeze blew up, stirring the purple dust that covered the floor. The air was hot and dry and it stuck in his throat.

“Keep moving, Viking,” Travis murmured. “Nothing to worry about.”

Despising himself for his moment of weakness, and even more that Travis had witnessed it, Einarr took a step forward. At the bottom of the ramp, a group of people awaited them. They were all staring at him, and some of them were whispering excitedly. Raising his chin, he strode toward them, his gaze fixing on the woman at the front of the group who appeared to be in command.

She came toward him, her expression serene, and held up her hand.

“Welcome, Einarr Bloodaxe, to Alpha Base Three. I’m Doctor Pel Aziz.”

He took her measure, his hand hovering at his hip where his axe should be.

“Is my brother here?”

“Your brother?” Her eyebrows shot up. “The other warrior is related to you?”

“Aye, we are twins. Is he here?”

“His ship hasn’t arrived yet. We expect it within the next few hours.” She glanced over her shoulder at the huddle of curious faces. “We would like to examine you and make sure you haven’t suffered too many ill effects since…”

“I came out of the ice,” Einarr finished the sentence for her. “I am willing to cooperate until my brother arrives. And then I need to see him.”

“As you wish.” She hesitated. “We lost contact with his ship around the same time as we lost contact with yours and haven’t reestablished it yet. We were only aware of your presence because Captain Travis managed to get a message through to us just before landing. We have no idea if your brother, um, defrosted as well.”

“I’m sure that will become clear when he arrives.” Einarr bowed, aware of the armed guards now moving in between him and Travis. “Where is Frey?”

Travis touched his shoulder. “She is being debriefed by her employers. I’m sure she’ll join you later.”

He shook off Travis’s restraining hand, aware that he could no longer sense Frey in his head. “That is unacceptable. I need to—” A cold stabbing pain in his neck silenced him and, even as he inwardly raged, he fell forward into the waiting arms of the soldiers who surrounded him.

Frey sat down at the table again and rested her head on her folded arms. She’d been left to stew in the “interview” room for hours. When she’d tried the door, a uniformed guard had gotten in her face and told her to sit down and shut up or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

She groaned into her hands. This was bad. She couldn’t even sense Einarr, and after seeing him keel over like a stunned ox as she was marched away, she wasn’t surprised. When he woke up and found her gone, would he care? Or would all his focus be on reclaiming his brother? She almost hoped it would. She didn’t want to drag him into her mess. There was nothing she could do to help him and nothing he could do to make the coming ordeal about her failure to obey orders any better.

She’d never been in trouble in her life before. She’d obeyed every rule and done everything perfectly and she’d still ended up here… What did that say about her? Was she genetically engineered to break the rules? And Gods, her heart was breaking as she yearned to stay with her male and simply shut everything else out.

The door finally opened and she sat up straight as a man and woman entered the room and took the two seats opposite her at the table. The male wore the standard blue uniform of a TSA operative. The female wore civilian clothing, most of which was tight and shiny.

“Science Officer Frey. I’m Gron from the Trios Space Authority and this is my colleague, Director Mitzi Lahm from FREN.”

Frey nodded at the pair and resumed her contemplation of her folded hands. She hadn’t quite expected Mitzi to look like that. FREN ops tended to be more uptight in their dress code.

“We’ve been asked to investigate your conduct aboard TSA Ship QZ41.”

“I did what I was ordered to do,” Frey said. “I kept the Viking alive.”

“That is correct, but you were also instrumental in setting him free in the first place,” Mitzi snapped. “You went directly against FREN procedure when you failed to ensure the ice remained in a sterile environment.”

“I followed the orders I was given by FREN and input only the codes that were sent to me.”

“Codes you conveniently say you were told to erase.”

“I was ordered to erase them. I’m fairly certain you’ll find the information if you check the full security logs.”

“You touched the ice with your bare hands.”

It didn’t appear as if Mitzi was listening or had any intention of replying directly to Frey’s answers.

Frey shrugged. “Only once, and that was during an emergency. When the planets aligned, the—”

“I’m not interested in excuses, Science Officer.” Mitzi made a slashing gesture with her hand. “You didn’t follow protocol.”

“I was more concerned about keeping your specimen alive. As soon as the eclipse sent all my equipment into a spin, I checked the Viking. I didn’t have time to worry about gloves when the whole ship’s power might have been failing.” Frey took a quick breath and kept talking. “And if anything was to blame for the defrosting, I think you should look at the effect of the new codes you sent me and at the eclipse. When was the last time these planets, including ones called after the Viking gods, aligned? I bet that has more to do with it than me sticking one naked finger on the surface of the ice.”

“Those particular circumstances are being fully investigated, Science Officer Frey. We are more concerned with your decision-making process throughout the entire voyage,” Gron said. “You took it upon yourself to keep the Viking with you at all times.”

“The Viking suggested it. He threatened to destroy the ship if I didn’t comply.”

“So Captain Travis said.” Gron sat back. “But even if that is correct, I’m sure no one suggested you have sexual relations with this man.”

Frey felt her cheeks heat up. “Captain Travis did not ask me to do that. It just…happened.”

Mitzi slammed her hand down on the table. “And it is completely unacceptable! How could you be so unprofessional? You have no idea how his body has withstood being trapped in ice for centuries. You have no idea what diseases he carries, or what you might have given him.”

Frey bit down on her lip and stared at the table. She wasn’t going to bring out the mating excuse. There was no way she and Einarr could ever be together now. Suggesting that she was his mate would open up a whole new can of worms that Einarr didn’t need and her interrogators wouldn’t understand.

“Well?” Mitzi demanded.

Frey shrugged. “I wanted to keep him safe.”

“By letting him have unprotected sexual intercourse with you?” Mitzi shook her head. “You might just have killed him before he even had a chance to live again. How selfish and thoroughly unprofessional of you.”

Well, she had been selfish. Frey knew that, but she didn’t regret experiencing sex with a telepathic mate. It was extraordinary. But had she damaged him? She hadn’t sensed anything wrong with him, and mates were attuned to physical changes in their lovers’ bodies. In fact, they were more likely to heal each other than to cause harm.

Oh Gods, was she such a screw-up that one moment of spontaneity and selfishness in her entire life might have killed her mate?

“I did what I thought best to keep him alive and safe.” She repeated the words, gaining some comfort from them. “If that means I should resign my commission and return to Pavlovan, then I’ll do so right now.”

Mitzi sat back. “Don’t think you’ll get off that easily, Science Officer. Have you any idea how much money FREN invested in this project?”

Frey looked Mitzi right in the eye. “Sure I do, but maybe you should be thanking me. You’ll save a fortune because he’s already defrosted. Although I didn’t cause that, I did follow orders and keep him alive.”

Gron nodded. “You did. Captain Travis agrees with that at least.”

“I appreciate Captain Travis’s support,” Frey said tightly.

After a quick glance at each other, Mitzi and Gron rose to their feet.

“We will continue this conversation after the Viking has cleared his initial health assessments. If he doesn’t clear them, we will require your presence in the medical lab.”

“To do what?” Frey looked up when Mitzi finished speaking.

“To be tested yourself. Until then you’ll be held in custody by security.”

“This is ridiculous.” Frey scowled at the female. “The Viking is here, and he’s in one piece, largely due to me. I understand that you have to follow protocol and that you need someone to blame for his defrosting. Just let me resign from my post and go home.”

“You will not be allowed to leave Alpha Three until we have completed our inquiries.” Mitzi turned and banged on the door. “If you are deemed to have breached your contract with FREN or TSA, you will be prosecuted.”

“Great,” Frey muttered as her two inquisitors went out to be replaced by four huge guards. “Not even one com call home? Or the Pavlovan ambassador to talk to? At least a word with someone who might understand and protect me?”

“Come with us, Science Officer Frey.”

She checked out the guards and realized she had no choice but to do as she’d been told. All she could hope was that Einarr was safe and that he wasn’t worrying about her at all. That would be for the best. Her chest tightened as if her heart was being squeezed tight. She refused to give in to the desire to cry. She had a sense that she would need all her strength to stand up to whatever was going to happen next.

Eventually, after walking through what felt like miles of corridors, she was gently maneuvered past a thick metal door into a small, windowless cell. The door was locked before she even had time to turn around. With a sigh, she sank down onto the side of the small bed and shoved her fingers into her hair, loosening the braid.

She searched for Einarr in her mind but there was nothing, only a cold, empty space where his thoughts should have been filling her. He wasn’t dead. She would have known if he was, but he definitely wasn’t conscious. Tentatively, she reached out to the only other Pavlovan she knew.

“Slavin?”

“Tecky, are you okay? The whole crew has been detained at the base, and is being interviewed one by one. We have no idea what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I’m not surprised. They are probably looking for evidence to use against me. I also doubt FREN wants a bunch of you wandering around the galaxy telling stories about a defrosted Viking right now.”

“I had the same thought. I wonder if they’ll force a memory erasure for the whole crew?”

Frey shuddered. For a Pavlovan, the TSA’s casual attitude to wiping sensitive data from their population’s minds was considered barbaric. It was also hugely damaging to telepaths. Everyone knew that the TSA tended to do a mind sweep first and deal with the inevitable claims from outraged citizens afterward. If said citizen hadn’t gone crazy…

“Have you seen Einarr?” Frey couldn’t help but ask.

“No.” Slavin hesitated. “They knocked him out and took him to the medical wing. I don’t think they will let me see him.”

“I’m certain they won’t let me see him. I’ve been locked up in the high security wing.”

“Have you told them that you are mated to the Viking?”

“I didn’t see the point. It’s not as if they are going to let me stay with him or anything.” Tears pricked behind Frey’s eyelids and she resolutely swallowed them down. “It’s better for him if he doesn’t have to deal with me while he is rehabilitated.”

“I don’t think he’d agree with you.”

“He doesn’t have much choice. Neither of us does.”

“Still… If I do see Einarr, I’ll tell him that you’ve been detained.”

“Don’t. I don’t want him to think he has to rescue me or anything.” Frey took a steadying breath. “There is something you can do for me, though.”

“What is it?”

“Find out if there is a government representative from Pavlovan on this base and tell them about me. Tell them everything.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Check and see when the last time these planets aligned? I bet it was around four thousand Earth years ago when Einarr and his brother were first trapped in the ice.”

”I’ll do my best.” Slavin paused. “I have to go now. It’s my turn to be interviewed. Wish me luck.”

8

Einarr opened his eyes and stared up at yet another white ceiling. He was bound to the bed and he couldn’t move anything but his fingers and toes.

“Oh good, you are awake.”

There was a whirring sound, and his pallet suddenly rose at an angle until he was almost vertical but still strapped to the bed. The healer, Aziz, who had welcomed him to the base, stood beside him, her bright blue uniform now covered with a white coat.

He fixed her with his most intimidating glare. “I am getting tired of being knocked out, tied up and treated like an animal of low worth.”

She had the grace to look ashamed. “I am sorry about that. We wanted to get as many of the medical unpleasantries accomplished as possible while you were unconscious.”

He became aware of a myriad of small irritations on his skin, as if he’d been eaten alive by a swarm of biting insects. His head felt as if he’d received another blow from an axe.

“Where is my brother?”

“His ship hasn’t landed yet. It is expected within the hour.”

“Then I wish to be free to greet him.”

She sighed. “We’ll do our best. We’re still waiting on test results.”

“I do not care what you are waiting for. I want to see my brother.”

“If he’s survived as well as you have, you’ll be seeing plenty of him. The pair of you will need to enter a program of extensive rehabilitation.”

Einarr ignored that. “Where is Frey?”

“Science Officer Frey?” Aziz’s expression sharpened. “Why do you want to know?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because she is of my blood.”

“I’m not sure I get your meaning.”

“Frey belongs with me. Where is she?”

“I believe she’s still here on the base.”

“I know that,” Einarr said impatiently. “She needs to be here with me.”

“Why?”

“She is my female. Her blood called me to her through the centuries.”

Aziz cocked her head to one side. “Do you really believe that?”

“How could I not?”

She wrote something down on her white slate. “How do you know Science Officer Frey is still on the base? Do you smell her blood or something?”

He remembered too late Frey’s warning to him about not sharing knowledge of his powers. “You talk to me as if I am a beast hunting his prey. Let me free. I will find Frey and my brother.”

“I can’t let you go until I’ve been given the okay by FREN and the TSA.” She patted his arm. “Let me go and check on those test results. I’ll be right back.”

She showed him how to lower and raise his bed and some other things and then went out with a cheery wave. Einarr felt an unaccustomed slow rage build within him like a fire licking at a thatched roof. Someone had removed all his clothing and his arm rings, leaving him in a thin blue shroud-like garment that barely reached his knees. He took a moment to observe the nature of the webbing binding him to the bed and then concentrated his magic. There was a horrible burning smell, but his bonds refused to break.

Nonplussed, he tried again, but he was still trapped. Reining in his anger, he took a deep breath and focused on Frey. Her shields were up, guarding her thoughts, but they were no match for him.

“Frey.”

“Einarr, oh thank Gods, are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

He wanted to smile at the raw emotion in her voice. “I am well. I will come to you soon.”

Silence.

“You…don’t have to do that. I’m fine. You focus on helping your brother. He’s going to need you.”

Einarr frowned. “I will of course help Aki, but I will also find you.”

“There’s no need.”

He felt as if someone had punched him hard in the guts. “Frey, I…”

He jumped as the glass light over his door flashed red and started wailing like a thousand howling wolves. He couldn’t even cover his ears. A voice bellowed,  “All security teams to the docking bay. All security teams to the docking bay.”

The dock must be where ships landed and where Aki was expected. Einarr glanced at the door and then pushed the button Aziz had shown him how to use if he wanted help. No one came. After another few seconds, he forced another pulse of magic through his bound wrists, causing more of the foul smell and a slight softening of the rope-like substance. With an almighty roar, he wrenched his arms free, ripping through the restraints, and set to work on his ankles.

Wedging the chair against the door, he searched the room and found his belongings stacked neatly on a shelf in the cupboard. There was still no sign of his weapons. Dressing quickly, he moved the chair back against the wall and peered out of the door. The hall was deserted, as if the screech of the alarm had driven everyone away.

Frey jumped up as the security alarms started blaring. She sensed the guards outside her door moving away. Sticking her fingers in her ears, she walked over to the door, reached above it and managed to shut the alarm up.

“Einarr? Did you hear that? It’s an alarm. It should stop in a moment.”

She leaned against the door, awaiting his response. If the alarm had scared her, what had Einarr made of it?

“I am well, Frey. I believe Aki’s ship has been sighted. I’m going to see what is happening down at the docks. Can you join me there?”

Frey thought he sounded remarkably calm, considering. “I don’t think so. I’m locked up.”

“Then I will find you when I’ve dealt with Aki.”

“It’s okay. I’ll try and get out of here myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will find you, Frey, regardless.”

She was torn between gratitude at his obvious sincerity and fear that he meant it. “Be careful.”

He snorted. “I will do my best. I assume they will be reluctant to kill me until I have paid for my journey here.” He paused. “If you plan to escape, mayhap you could find my weapons and bring them with you?”

“Sure, why not?” She grimaced at her slightly hysterical response.

“Now I just have to find my way back to the docks,” Einarr continued speaking. “It is hard to read most of these symbols on the walls.”

“Oh that’s easy,” Frey said, pulling up the map of the base in her head and relaying it to him. “Go to level 01 and look for a symbol that resembles three inverted ‘v’s like the head of an arrow. That’s the sign for the docking bays. Aki’s ship will be coming in to one of those. It will be pretty obvious which one it is if the entire Alpha Three military is surrounding it.”

His laughter saturated his thoughts, and for a moment, she forgot to hold him at arm’s length and simply enjoyed being so in tune with him. It wasn’t fair for him to have to face the might of Alpha Three all by himself. She put her hand on the control panel on the wall of her cell.

“I’ll try and join you.”

The security system wasn’t programmed to withstand a Pavlovan’s telepathic ability to disrupt electrical patterns and currents. It was a flaw she was more than happy to exploit. She’d already lost her job, and her future was in doubt. What was to stop her helping the Viking? If she was being screwed by FREN, Gods knew what they planned to do to an ancient Viking.

Letting out a slow breath, she placed her hand back on the control panel and focused on the intricacies of the security system until she understood the flow well enough to reach in and telepathically disrupt it. Her cell door lock clicked open, and with a soft prayer, she eased it open an inch until she could see out onto the corridor. There was no one there, only the flashing red lights, the boom of the alarm and the sound of hurried orders being issued over the public com.

If Einarr’s weapons were on Alpha Three, they would be stored in the most secure area, which had to be where she was currently being held. As she ran along the corridor, she used the matrix of the building plans to identify exactly where she was.

“Einarr? This might sound weird, but can you connect with your weapons at all? I mean magically or telepathically?”

From the stream of his thoughts, she could tell he was also on the move, his route downward through a series of emergency staircases and locked doors.

“Aye, I can sense they are here.”

“Can you send that thought to me?”

For a moment he went quiet, and she considered how to rephrase her request. She’d grown up surrounded by telepaths and never had to think about how she’d acquired her knowledge. Trying to explain things to a four-thousand-year-old Viking was proving to be a lot more complicated than she’d anticipated.

She almost gasped as the image of his axe and dagger appeared in her mind with such vivid clarity that she wanted to reach out and touch them.

“Hold that thought, Einarr. Call them to us.”

He understood her better than she had anticipated, his strength blending with hers and leading her unerringly to a manned desk at the center of the small detention center. Frey thanked her Gods that Alpha Three was a research complex and not a military base as the lone man stared at her, consternation on his face. He looked about sixteen years old and everything about him screamed research geek.

“How the hell did you get out?”

She blinked innocently at him. “My door opened when the alarm went off. I assumed I was supposed to get out?”

“I…”

“Perhaps you should go and ask someone?” She checked his nametag. “Merton, is it? I’m quite happy to wait here while you check.”

He stared at her and then tapped his wrist com. “Pastur? Come in, please. We have a situation here.”

Half-turning his back on her, he repeated the request. It was just enough time for Frey to lean forward, grab the weapon he’d left on the desk and point it at him.

“Stop talking, Merton, and turn off your com.”

He swallowed hard. “You can’t do this. What’s the point? Someone will just get hurt.”

“Turn it off.”

She kept the weapon pointed at his head until he shut down his com. “I won’t hurt you if you tell me where you’ve stored the Viking’s weapons.”

His gaze flicked nervously toward the door behind him. “I can’t tell you that. It is classified information.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Frey huffed. “The weapons are totally harmless in this society and they belong to our guest. If the other Viking has defrosted and gone berserk on that space ship then our Viking might be the only person who can calm him down.”

“Well he won’t need his weapons for that.”

“He might. It would be unfair of him to use a modern weapon on his own kin, wouldn’t it?”

Merton bit his lip. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You can just tell your superiors that I held a gun on you and forced you to get the weapons for me. You’ll be a hero.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’re not military, are you? No one will expect you to do anything violent,” Frey said reassuringly. Part of her wanted to stand back and appreciate the absurdity of their conversation while the rest of her was desperate to move on and help Einarr. She hardened her resolve. “I don’t want to use this weapon, but I will if I have to.”

He sighed. “I’m an intern on a science scholarship. I don’t want all this hassle. I’ll get you his weapons.”

“Thank you.”

“Turn your back so you don’t see the codes I’m inputting.”

Frey fixed him with her most intimidating stare. “Yeah, right. I’m a Pavlovan I can probably do it myself. Just go ahead. I promise not to tell anyone.” She could take over at this point, but she didn’t have to. It might be worth informing Alpha Three that any Pavlovan over the age of five would stand a good chance of breaking through their power systems and that they might want to fix that. But not quite yet…

Merton came back clutching two large, sealed packages to his chest. “I think these are the weapons.”

As soon as she ripped off the wrapping and touched the first item, Frey knew she held another powerful source of Einarr’s magic. The handle of the axe was worn smooth and the dark grey blade pitted with tiny nicks and scratches. The second weapon was a long dagger within a leather sheath. Tossing the plastic aside, she winked at Merton and took off at a run toward the docks.

She thought she heard him call out, demanding the return of his weapon, and she pretended not to hear. Einarr might be proficient with an axe and dagger, but she certainly wasn’t. She suspected he might need all the help modern weaponry could provide.

Einarr crouched behind a large pile of barrels and scanned the area around the dock. Lights flashed and sirens blared, but the place appeared to be deserted. A ship that looked like the twin of the one he’d arrived on sat on the ground, heat still vibrating in waves off the metal surface. The high-pitched whining sound of what Frey had called the engines reminded him of a million angry honeybees in full swarm. The main door stood open and a single body lay stretched out on the gangplank.

“Come out with your hands up.”

Einarr jumped as a magnified voice echoed over the docking bay.

“We will not harm you.”

Another slight movement behind him had him whirling to face Brown, the security guard from the ship he’d arrived on. Brown jammed his weapon against Einarr’s throat and leaned in close, pointing to the open door.

“I think your brother’s awake. He appeared at the door and threw the body out. There’s no apparent way to communicate with the ship’s crew or him.”

Einarr frowned. “Mayhap they were unable to give him the necessary tools to translate your language.”

“It’s highly likely. We were lucky that you were distracted enough by Frey for her to put the translator on you.” Brown glanced to the side. “I’m fairly sure you shouldn’t be here, but I reckon you are the only chance we have to get out of this without a bloodbath.”

“What do you expect me to do? Go in there and kill him for you?”

“As if you would.” Brown shifted his position. “I’m more interested in preventing a massacre of innocent scientists who’ve definitely bitten off more than they can chew with you two guys. The security on this planet sucks ass, and they are already panicking. I don’t want you or your brother to die.”

Einarr stared into the other man’s eyes, judging his worth. “Then I will help you.”

“Good.” Brown withdrew his weapon. “Just remember if you try anything fancy, I have the ability to blow your brains out with one click of my finger.”

Even as he finished speaking, he stiffened as Frey appeared on his other side and held a weapon on him. Einarr smiled at her.

“My lady.”

Not taking her eyes off Brown who was cursing quietly, she grinned at Einarr. “I’ve got your weapons.”

“Thank you.” He nodded at Brown. “You can lower your weapon, Frey. We will help him.”

He waited until she stowed her weapon and then she carefully handed over his axe and dagger to him. He couldn’t help but smile as his fingers closed around the well-remembered grooves of the oak handle of his axe. He returned his dagger and sheath to his belt and kept hold of his axe.

“So what’s the panic?” Frey asked. “I assume Aki is awake?”

“Awake and angry by the sound of it,” Brown said. “The main power and com links on the ship are down. Aki’s already thrown out one body. When he appeared the second time, he had the captain by the throat.”

Frey looked at Einarr. “Can you reach him?”

He grimaced. “Aki’s powers are not as strong as mine. I can hardly sense him at all. He is not acting in a rational way.”

“Well, duh.” Frey rolled her eyes.

He didn’t understand the words, but her meaning was clear. Her ability to make fun of him even in the most dire of circumstances alternately amused and befuddled him.

“I suspect I will have to go on the ship and find him myself.”

“Not on your own,” Brown stated.

“I thought you trusted me.” Einarr raised an eyebrow. “It’s hardly likely my brother and I will steal your ship and fly away. We do not have the ability.”

“But you could force the crew to do it for you.”

“I’ll go with him,” Frey said. “I can communicate with all sides. I’ll slap a translator on the guy as soon as I get the chance.”

Brown looked down at Frey. “How the hell did you get out, anyway? And who gave you his weapons?” He shook his head. “This security system is as full of holes as a slice of Swiss cheesara I’ve assumed command. I’ll tell everyone what you two plan to do and stop any arguments.” He turned to Frey. “Tecky, you need to keep me informed at all times.”

“I will if my com works. Is Slavin around? She’s Pavlovan. I can communicate telepathically to her.”

Brown grimaced. “Then get her down here. The more the merrier.”

9

Einarr went up the slope toward the open door of the ship and paused beside the unmoving body of the man. Keeping a wary eye out for Aki, he went down on his knee and tried to find some sign of life within the slumped form. He breathed a prayer of thanks when he caught the faintest of heartbeats. If Aki hadn’t actually killed anyone, it would make things a lot easier for them both.

Frey knelt beside him, her brown gaze locked on his.

“He’s still alive,” Einarr murmured. “Get Brown to take him to the healers after we go inside.”

“Okay.”

He stood, offering Frey his hand, the other he kept on the shaft of his axe. “Come.”

For a moment she stayed where she was and stared into his eyes before hurriedly turning away and following him into the darkness. It took a moment for his gaze to adjust to the dim lighting. He paused just inside the door as his boots crunched over something scattered all over the floor.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“I suspect Aki blew the lights out. Let’s hope that’s all he did. The ship automatically switches to back-up power to supply the emergency lighting that runs at floor level.” She pointed downward. “We’re walking on broken glass. Can you sense where your brother is?”

Einarr concentrated hard. “Is this ship laid out in the same way as yours?”

“They are almost identical.”

“Then I think he’s in the food hall.”

Frey touched his arm. “While we approach, try and block your thoughts from him. Can you do that?”

“I’ve never tried to shield my thoughts from Aki. There has never been a need.”

“I’d like to see if we can pick up anything from him—anything that might help us know how to deal with him.”

“Aye.” Einarr focused inward, mirroring Frey’s actions, and built a sturdy wall in his mind enclosing her with him and keeping everyone else, including Aki, out. It felt surprisingly secure. “I sense his rage and fear. He believes he is alone and that he has nothing to live for.” He started jogging faster. “We don’t have much time.”

He remembered that the food hall had more than one entrance, which made things easier. It could be accessed from the kitchen, and there were two other doors, one at each end, that went back into the main passageway.

“Kitchen?” He looked down at Frey who had already drawn her weapon.

“Sure, I’ll go through the back, while you grab his attention from the front. I’ll shoot him with a tranquilizer dart and slap a translator on his ass so that we can start this conversation again.”

“That thing won’t kill him?” He gestured at her weapon.

“Not this one. I have a proper gun in my belt, but I’m hoping I won’t need to use it.”

They were outside the kitchen door now. Frey smiled up at him. “Good luck.”

In response, Einarr slid his fingers into her hair and cupped her scalp, bringing her up on tiptoe to kiss him. When she sighed and relaxed against him, he had to fight himself to end the kiss.

“Wait for me to get into position.” Einarr kissed her again.

She stepped back, her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide, and nodded.

He didn’t want to leave her, but he could already hear voices from the food hall and knew Aki was in trouble. His mate could wait for his full attention. His brother could not.

Frey crept forward between the cold metal storage bins, the still-warm ovens and the broken cups and plates, until she was kneeling below the open serving hatch. Someone in the mess hall was crying softly and being comforted in a low-voiced murmur. A lone voice was talking and talking as if convinced that the Viking would at some point suddenly be able to understand what was being said if the words just kept getting louder.

Frey felt in her pocket for the translation patch. Why didn’t the ship carry them? It was a fairly standard piece of equipment. Maybe the Viking had torn off the strip before it had become fully functional. She also checked the tranquilizer dart was armed and ready to go.

“I can see him,” Einarr said. “He has his dagger at the captain’s throat. Five men are tied up on the floor and three women are huddled together beside them. They all seem to be alive.”

“Good, that’s pretty much the whole crew. Let me relay that to Slavin.”

Einarr spoke again. “I’m going to walk out in front of him, with my weapon held out and speak to him.”

“Are you sure that’s the best approach?”

“I can think of no other.”

“You could wait, and I could see if I—”

“Nay.”

She fought a desire to curse his stubbornness as the swing door opposite the kitchen creaked and opened to reveal Einarr. While everyone’s attention switched toward him, she raised herself onto her knees so that she could see over the counter. With as much care as she could manage, she rested her elbows on the countertop, the tranquilizer gun held steadily between her hands. Aki’s back was toward her and Einarr was moving forward, his axe held high.

“Aki? It’s me, your brother, Einarr.”

“Einarr?”

That was the only word Frey understood as the fair-haired Viking started screaming in ancient Norse.

“Nay, I am not a ghost or a vision from Valhalla. I am as alive as you are,” Einarr said calmly. “Let the man go, lay down your weapon and I will explain what has happened to you.”

“Hvaða helvítis fáviti ertu!”

Had Aki just called his brother an idiot? It didn’t seem to disturb Einarr’s calm at all. Frey’s grip on the dart tightened.

“We are both alive, Aki. Please, listen to me.”

Aki shook his head as Einarr took three steps closer. There was another sharp exchange. The smell of blood caught at Frey’s senses and a line of red dripped off the bone handle of Aki’s dagger. His captive moaned a prayer.

Einarr continued to advance, his hand held out, and his expression calm. “I would never deceive you. I am your twin. Find me in your heart and mind, brother, hear my truth.”

Frey added her power to Einarr’s as he lowered his barriers and pushed deep into Aki’s mind. He took another step forward, his gaze intent. Frey climbed up onto the countertop and took up a new firing stance.

“Aki…”

With a roar, Aki threw the captain to one side and launched himself at his brother, his dagger raised.

Frey yelled and threw herself off the counter, coming down on Aki’s back and shooting the tranquilizer dart directly into his neck. He fell forward with a snarl of pain. Even before he hit the ground, Einarr was on top of him, securing his hands behind his back.

He glanced up at Frey who had also rolled to one side. “You have the translator?”

She secured it to the back of Aki’s neck, smoothing out the band until it was stuck firmly in place. If he wanted to remove it, he’d have to use a knife. Not that she thought that would stop him. She hoped he’d remain quiet long enough to understand that the translator wouldn’t harm him. He was a big man like Einarr, and he’d already started to regain consciousness. This time some of his curses were even translatable.

Einarr removed his brother’s weapons and remained beside him, one hand smoothing his twin’s fair hair away from his face.

“I’ll watch him, Frey. Help untie the crew.”

The females had also started on that task so the others were soon released and proved to be mainly unharmed. As she worked to free them, Frey heard several versions of the story. Apparently since the eclipse, Aki had picked them off one at a time, starting with the science officer assigned to care for him on the journey, and progressing through the crew until only the pilot and captain had been spared to do their job and land the ship.

After informing Brown that the situation was clear and he should get the medics onboard, Frey turned her attention to tracking down the science officer and comparing notes. If the science officer had been the first to go down, it was highly likely that any special orders from FREN with regards to the Viking had not been carried out. After speaking to the shaken male, she discovered that had proved to be the case. Once he realized that his report and Frey’s described similar occurrences related to the eclipse and the orders he’d received, he promised to send her a copy. She could only hope that it would prevent FREN from insisting everything that had happened was her fault.

“Frey?”

She looked around to see Aki being strapped on a gurney. His eyes were closed and he was breathing normally. His hair was the color of golden corn and was tied back in a braid like his twin’s. Einarr stood next to him, his blue gaze icy and fixed on her.

“What’s up?”

“Come with Aki and me.”

“Sure.” She knew he wasn’t pleased at her for literally leaping to his defense, but she wasn’t going to sit still while Aki gutted her male on the end of his dagger. The fact that she hadn’t even had to think about her decision to protect Einarr was unnerving. The gurney moved off, surrounded by security guards and followed by Einarr and Frey.

When they emerged into the docking bay, it looked like the whole of Alpha Three was present, including an unhappy looking Dr. Pel Aziz and the reps from FREN and TSA.

“Oh heeze,” Frey muttered. “Now we’re in for it.”

Dr. Aziz held up her hand, blocking the others.

“Infirmary first for everyone. Questions later. No arguments.”

Frey waited as Aki was sedated more heavily and the medical team converged on him to complete their assessments. Brown had secured the entire medical wing, and only she and Einarr were allowed anywhere near the unconscious Viking. She’d expected to be put back in her cell, but for some reason, no one had attempted to restrain her—yet.

She rolled her shoulders, aware of a number of aches and pains collected during her adventurous day. Brown came out of Aki’s room escorting a furious-looking Einarr.

“He’s not going anywhere, Viking. Let the medical team get their tests done, okay?”

Einarr glared at him. “Get me the moment he awakens.”

“I’ll make sure that happens.” Brown pointed at the room across the hallway. “Why don’t you crash in there. I’ll come and find you the second the scientists are done with him.”

“Crash?” Einarr frowned.

Frey couldn’t help but smile. “He means you should get some sleep while you can so that you’ll be ready to deal with Aki when he wakes up.”

Einarr’s blue gaze settled on her, and she wished she hadn’t opened her mouth.

“I will rest.” His hand shot out and caught her elbow. “But I insist you accompany me.”

Frey glanced at Brown. “Don’t I have to be locked up somewhere or something?”

“No, you’re good. Less manpower if you’re together.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thanks a lot, Brown.”

He winked as he opened the door into the room. “Always happy to aid young lovers.”

The door shut behind her and she turned and walked straight into a two hundred and thirty pound wall of steel. Her nose bumped hard against Einarr’s chest and she took an involuntarily step backward, ending up plastered against the door.

Einarr stared down at her. “Do not ever do that again.”

“What?”

“Put yourself in danger for my sake.”

She scowled right back at him. “Right, like I’m going to let you die in front of me while I wring my hands and cry like a baby.”

“Aki would not have hurt me.”

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.” She shoved at his chest, and he rocked on his heels. “Now back off.”

He rested one hand on the door behind her head. “I do not doubt your courage, Frey. But like all men, I would prefer my womenfolk to be safe and far away from the fighting.”

“Womenfolk? So you can run around being all heroic and die rather than accept that a woman can fight alongside you?”

“You told me you wanted my protection,” he growled.

“Not when you’re the one who’s about to die.” She pushed him again. “Let me pass, you male chauvinist pig.”

This time he took a reluctant step back, and she ducked under his raised arm and got away. Of course, being as they were stuck in the same room, she didn’t have many options. She headed for the small bathroom and slammed the door as hard as she could.

After using the facilities and splashing water on her face, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was no way out. Either she stayed in the bathroom until Einarr was called to his brother, or she went out to him and…what? She had nothing to apologize for.

A knock sounded on the door and she stiffened.

“What?”

“May I come in?”

She sighed and straightened up. “I suppose so.”

He opened the door, which she’d forgotten to lock during all her flouncing, and came to stand behind her, his blue eyes meeting hers in the large mirror.

“I have never seen my reflection so clearly,” he murmured.

“It’s just a mirror,” Frey said. His hands remained on her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head, which fitted neatly under his chin.

“It is not made of polished metal.”

“No, it’s a kind of glass.” She thought about moving away. The sensation of his fingers kneading the tight muscles of her shoulders kept her glued in place and in danger of purring like a cat.

“I should not have shouted at you,” Einarr said quietly. “You did what any valiant warrior would do for a brother-in-arms.”

“I’m not your brother.” The moment she heard the words Frey rushed to take them back. “I mean you’re welcome. And you’re right I would’ve done that for anyone.”

He continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror. “For anyone? It is strange because I would never even think of berating one of my fellow warriors for defending me. I would expect it as my right.”

Frey smiled sweetly. “That’s because you are a four-thousand-year-old sexist Viking pig. Or, in simpler terms, an old boar. I bet if a woman had done that in your time, you would’ve taken her over your knee and beaten her.”

“Nay, we had shield maidens who fought alongside us.”

“You did?” She frowned at him. “Then why are you so mad at me?”

He bit her throat and she shuddered. “Because you are mine, and I cannot bear to lose you.”

“That’s—”

He bit her again, this time more roughly. “You are mine.”

“I can’t be yours, you know that,” she whispered.

“It is not something you or I can decide, Frey. We were fated to meet by the Gods.”

“No, it was just luck.” She swallowed hard. “Einarr, look at me. I’m just a boring old scientist who happened to be the first woman you saw when you woke up. Your feelings for me are awesome and all that, but they are not real.”

He wrapped one arm around her hips and drew her ass tight against the hardness of his cock. “What I feel for you is quite real.”

“That’s just lust. You can’t—”

She gasped as he sank his teeth into her shoulder and started unbuttoning her uniform. His large hands made short work of her tunic and bra, baring her breasts to his gaze. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples into two hard points. She arched her back and he groaned, taking the opportunity to shove the rest of her clothes down to the floor where she automatically stepped out of them.

“Mine,” he murmured. “My woman.”

Being naked and in front of a mirror had never been her favorite place to be, but with Einarr’s big callused hands roaming over her flesh, she almost didn’t care. His cock pushed hard against the leather covering his crotch, making her writhe against him. He reached down and put his hand behind her knee, bringing it up to the countertop and setting her foot down, exposing her sex to his gaze.

His palm cupped her sex. “Mine.”

Using two fingers, he rubbed back and forth over her clit and then lower until she was shuddering and wet. He didn’t stop, his thumb working the moisture around her now throbbing clit and then inside her in an endless and remorseless pattern. She climaxed, the sensation so tight and hard that she cried out, echoing his satisfied growl.

She could see everything he was doing to her in the mirror, her dark red, swollen clit and the wet, slippery opening to her sex where he stabbed his thumb deep.

“Please…” she whispered, straining against him, pressing her ass against the unyielding stiff column of his cock. “Please fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

She reached back and dug her fingernails into his exposed arm. “Please.”

He used his fingers to spread her pussy lips wide and pressed his long middle finger inside her. It wasn’t enough and he damn well knew it.

“Fuck me.” This time she didn’t beg, she demanded.

Einarr stared at Frey’s exposed body, the slick wetness on his fingers and the throb of her need playing out beneath his palm. For the first time in his life, he wished he had two cocks—he wanted to ram them both into her and fill her until she screamed.

“Your sister has two men in her bed, aye?”

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with—”

“Do they fuck her together?”

“Yes.”

“I wish there were two of me to fuck you right now, although I fear you might not survive it.”

She glared at him in the mirror, her brown eyes flashing sparks like a fire. “I can take anything you want to give me. I’m a Pavlovan. We’re built to deal with two mates.”

He couldn’t help but slide three fingers in and out of her wetness, aware how wide she was, and how much he wanted her. Her hand gentled on his arm.

“It’s okay. I won’t break. I promise you.”

With a growl he released his cock and lifted her high. Both of them watched as he slowly lowered her onto his big needy rod. She took him easily and it was like coming home. After watching her risk her life for him, he wanted to be slow and tender to show his gratitude, but he couldn’t do it. He had to possess her, to make her realize how much she needed him, to make her scream so hard that she’d never want him to stop fucking her.

She came suddenly around his thrusting shaft, each squeeze bringing him closer to his own climax, but he kept moving, pushing her onward, linking his mind to hers so that she’d somehow realize how restrained he was actually being.

“I know you’re still mad but you won’t hurt me. You couldn’t.”

Her thought reverberated through his mind, the stark truth of it making him wild. His hips pistoned back and forth as he fucked her with his full length, each stroke from root to tip, her body taking him, endlessly offering him sanctuary and fulfillment and…Gods…

With one last slam of his hips he pushed deep and held still as his come jetted out in rapid, hot spurts. She climaxed with him, drawing every last drop of seed from his thrusting cock. His chin came to rest on her shoulder, and he opened his eyes and met her gaze in the mirror.

“It is not that I think you lack worth as a fighter, Frey, or wish to keep you doing woman’s work. It is more that I fear I cannot protect you in this strange world—that you will be injured and I will not be able to save you.”

She swallowed hard. “Which is exactly how I feel about you.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Then perhaps we are both fools?”

“For wanting to save each other? I suppose we are.” Frey sighed. “But this can’t last. I have to go back to Pavlovan, and you will be here for a long time in the rehabilitation center.”

He eased his cock free and gently set her foot down on the floor. “I cannot accept this.”

“You have to. I’m trying to be honest with you. There isn’t another choice.”

“That is not true.” He moved away from her and she crossed her arms over her breasts. He washed and dried himself off, aware of her withdrawing from him in her mind as well as her body. “You simply do not choose to believe.”

“That’s not fair—”

“When the Gods and the Fates align we can do nothing but accept their wishes and sometimes find joy in them.”

She raised her chin. “That’s all very nice, but I don’t believe in your Gods, and I know from personal experience that meeting someone and wanting them like this isn’t good or sustainable!”

“You have left another man for this reason?” The thought of her with another man made him even angrier.

“No. My father did it to my mother.”

“So you will leave me before I can leave you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I am not going anywhere, Frey. I am stuck in this Godforsaken world whether I like it or not and so are you.” He turned to the door. “If Aki awakens I will go to him alone.”

“Einarr…”

Before Frey could say anything more, he bowed and walked out into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. She stomped over to turn on the shower. What the heeze did he know? She wasn’t some miracle worker or the kind of person who dreamed impossible things. Life had taught her that such optimism usually ended in heartbreak. Her dad had been a dreamer, and his romantic notions had left her family broken and bewildered.

She was practical, loyal and reliable. Maybe even a little boring. All qualities her father had lacked. She’d spent her whole life trying to make up to her mother for her father’s desertion. She’d caused no trouble and tried to be the most perfect daughter imaginable. Believing she could have a chance with someone like Einarr was ridiculous and terrifying and…

“Dammit!” Frey thumped the tiled wall of the shower. “It’s not fair.”

He thought she lacked courage.

Even worse, he was probably right.

10

“Viking?” Brown knocked on the door. “Your brother is awake.”

“Thank you,” Einarr called out.

After a swift glance at the closed bathroom door, he tapped in the security codes Frey had created and exited the room into the hallway beyond. In truth, he was glad to escape. His frustration with Frey’s insistence that he could not be with her had made him pace the small space and contemplate punching a hole in the wall.

Brown stood guard by Aki’s open door, his weapon at the ready. “You can go in. Behave yourself.”

Einarr gave Brown a scathing look, took a deep breath and walked through the door. Aki was strapped to the bed but he was stirring and starting to mumble. Einarr came to stand by his head.

“Aki?”

His twin’s blue eyes opened and blinked slowly. “Einarr? Are we truly with the Gods?”

“Not quite.” Einarr put his hand on Aki’s shoulder. “We were frozen in the ice for many years and were recently found and released.”

“That makes no sense. When I woke up I was trapped in a metal box that rampaged through the blackness of the night sky.”

“So was I. We were asleep for a very long time, Aki. Things have changed beyond our comprehension. Ships are built to fly between different worlds rather than just through the sea.”

“I cannot believe this,” Aki muttered. “It is a cruel joke played by the Gods. We are either dead or still dreaming.”

“At first, I thought the same, but I’ve come to realize I am simply alive in a very different time.” Einarr patted his brother’s shoulder. “I can’t say I understand it yet, but if I am not to go mad, I will have to try. I wish you to try as well. These people are not our enemies, Aki.”

“Then why am I a prisoner?”

“Because you attacked the crew on the ship that brought you here.”

“I had no choice. They attacked me when I came out of the ice. I’m not a coward.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then how is it that you speak so eloquently on their behalf?” Aki demanded. “Have they bewitched you?”

An image of Frey burned through Einarr’s memory, and he pushed it aside. “Nay. I have just been awake for longer than you have and I have learned more. These people are not our enemies. They truly wish to help us.”

“Then tell them to take us home.”

Einarr sighed. “There is no ‘home.’ That world has gone.”

Aki blinked up at him and shook his head. “I cannot accept that.”

“If you give them your word of honor that you will not fight, I’m sure you’ll be allowed to get up.”

“And do what, Einarr? All I want is for things to get back to how they were.”

Einarr offered his brother a drink of water and pressed the red button beside the bed to call the healer. To his relief Pel Aziz came through the door, her expression relieved as she studied Aki.

“I’m so glad you have regained consciousness, Aki, how are you feeling?”

Aki glanced at Einarr. “How is it that I can understand what she is saying now? I couldn’t understand anyone on the ship. Is it more magic?”

“It is like magic.” Einarr showed him the patch on his skin. “But it is also very useful, so please do not take it off.”

“We also have this.” Aki spoke in his head. “No one else can hear us here.”

Aziz repeated her question, and Aki finally looked at her.

“Who are you?”

“I am a medical doctor and research scientist. My name is Doctor Pel Aziz. I’m here to take care of you.”

Aki’s eyes widened. “You can understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Then release me from my bonds.”

“You sound just like your brother,” Aziz murmured as she ran a scanner over Aki’s body. “You also seem to be in good shape. A little malnourished, but that’s to be expected considering your past history.” She took his hand and he tried to pull it back. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

“As if you could, woman.”

Aziz raised her chin and stared right into Aki’s eyes. “Try me. I’m quite capable of defending myself.”

Einarr cleared his throat. “Do not fight her. She is a healer.”

“And obviously a warrior,” Aki murmured. “I will remember that.”

After a few puzzled minutes while the doctor tapped away at her white tablet, Einarr worked out how to raise the bed.

“May I release my brother now?”

Aziz looked up. “You’ll have to check with Brown. He’s in charge of security now.”

Einarr glanced over at the door where Brown stood guard and raised an eyebrow.

Brown nodded. “You are both free to move around the medical facility but no further. You will also be accompanied by security personnel of my choosing and will be monitored at all times. Do either of you have a problem with that?”

“No, we do not,” Einarr answered for both of them before Aki started to disagree.

“You will also be required to cooperate with both the FREN and TSA personnel who wish to speak with you both as soon as Aki is cleared by medical.”

“I understand.”

Einarr started undoing the straps that bound his brother to the bed. He didn’t like having to obey Brown’s orders but he had no choice. Until he discovered exactly what was required of him and his brother, he would continue to cooperate. For the first time in his life he had no purpose. He would have to find one soon or go mad.

Dr. Aziz talked with Brown before disappearing out the door, promising to send food. Aki sat up, grimacing down at the blue gown he’d been dressed in and stretching his arms over his head.

“Where are my clothes and weapons?”

Einarr checked the cupboard and found his brother’s garments neatly folded next to his sword and dagger. He handed over the clothing, aware of Brown stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him. He knew the man wouldn’t go any further. But at least he was attempting to give them some privacy. Not that he could assuage his brother’s fears or make anything right for him.

He hated that.

Aki placed his sword on the table and buckled his dagger into place at his hip. He finger-combed his long blond hair and re-braided it. He had always been more vain and careful of his appearance than his twin. He’d also been Einarr’s protector and had more of a temper.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a veritable feast, including some kind of ale and thick slabs of roasted meat. It was easy enough for Einarr to sit opposite Aki and eat his fill, prolonging the moment when he would have to disappoint his brother and disclose his inability to change anything about their current predicament. He’d been so caught up with meeting Frey that he’d tried not to think about the future. As long as she was with him, he’d instinctively believed that everything would be all right.

But she didn’t want to be with him. She didn’t believe he meant what he said… She thought him infatuated or…

Was she right? Was his fear of dealing with the new world making him cling to her like a suckling child to its mother?

“Einarr?”

He jerked his attention back to his brother who was watching him intently.

“What?”

“Are you certain we are alive?”

“I’m afraid that we are.”

“And we are in the future?”

“About four thousand years or so, aye.”

Aki’s blue eyes widened. “It is impossible.”

“I agree, but it is true.”

“And we can’t get home?”

“Home as we know it no longer exists.”

Aki sat down with a thump. “Our whole world has gone?”

“No, our ‘planet’ is still there, but it would be unrecognizable to you and me.” Einarr knew he was being too short with his brother, but there was no point in pretending anything would change.

Aki put down his cup of ale. “Then what in Odin’s name are we supposed to do now?”

“That, my twin, is a very good question.” Einarr tried to shrug off his own concerns. “I suspect the people from FREN and TSA might want something from us. I am not yet sure what that might be. I suggest we keep our counsel and listen to what they have to say before we make any decisions as to our future.”

Frey dressed in the clean uniform she’d found laid out for her on the bed and wondered what to do next. Should she go and find the FREN rep and ask permission to leave the planet, or was she supposed to hang around waiting to be dismissed or court-marshaled?

“Tecky?”

“Yes, Slavin?”

“Are you okay?”

“As okay as anyone facing an ignominious dismissal can be, why?”

“I wanted to let you know that I contacted my cousin back in Pavlovan about what’s been happening with you and FREN. He’s on the council. He was most concerned and said he’d make sure your Pavlovan interests were properly represented.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I hope he’ll stop you from being prosecuted for something that wasn’t really your fault. You can’t choose who you are mated with.”

“Perhaps you should also tell him about the other science officer on Aki’s ship. He’s Pavlovan too, and experienced a very similar situation to mine—apart from the kissing bits. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dismissed or prosecuted by FREN as well.”

“Having two witnesses should help your case. I’ll let my cousin know about this as soon as possible. When are you due to speak to the FREN rep next?”

“I’ve no idea. I assume they’ll be more interested in interviewing the Bloodaxe twins than me.”

There was a slight hesitation. “Have you seen Einarr’s twin yet?”

“Nope. I don’t think there’s any reason for me to do so, is there?”

“I can sense him better than Einarr.”

“That’s weird.”

“I know.” Again that pause. “I’ll let you know if my cousin has any definite plans in place.”

“Thanks.”

Frey brushed her hair into a neat ponytail and turned the collar of her uniform up to hide the bite marks Einarr had left on her shoulder. Her unremarkable face looked back at her from the mirror, and for a moment she wished for some of Slavin’s blond beauty. Einarr hadn’t even glanced at Slavin, even though she was a telepath. But what if he’d met her first?

“And why are you trying to deny what you feel for your mate?” she asked herself loudly, her voice ringing around the tiled bathroom. “Why are you such a wuss?”

She turned away from her reflection in despair. Why couldn’t the Gods have offered her a nice safe Pavlovan male rather than a four-thousand-year-old magical Viking? And what happened if one couldn’t or wouldn’t accept a mate? Would the Pavlovan Oracle offer her another one? Somehow she doubted it…

She wished she could talk to the Oracle right now. She was so conflicted.

“Tecky?”

A knock on the outside door made her straighten up and walk out of the bathroom. She tapped in the codes and the door swung open to reveal Moshe, one of the security team from the ship. He appeared to have recovered from his encounter with Einarr.

He pointed at the door across the corridor. “Einarr’s in there with his twin and the reps from TSA and FREN. He asked if you could join him.”

“Do I have to?”

Wow, she sounded like a whiny child. Having to see Einarr again made the idea of walking away from him even harder.

“I think he’d appreciate the support,” Brown said quietly from his position outside the door.

And then Frey felt like a heel for even attempting to avoid her mate. If she was going to abandon him, she could at least support him right up until the end. Squaring her shoulders, she allowed Brown to open the door and went inside. The smell of roasting meat made her stomach rumble and she clutched a hand over it.

Gron, the TSA rep, stood and bowed to her. “Science Officer Frey.”

Mitzi Lahm stayed where she was and kept ogling the Vikings. Frey saluted, her gaze drawn to the opposite side of the table where the brothers sat side by side. They were identical in size—both had pale blue eyes, bulging muscles and fierce expressions. The only difference she could see was that Aki was blond and Einarr was dark. The other thing she noticed was that Aki’s mind didn’t call out to her.

“My lady.” Einarr also stood. “May I make my brother known to you? Aki, this is Frey. She is the reason I didn’t go mad when I woke up on the space ship.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aki.” Frey risked a small smile at the blond Viking. “I apologize for jumping on your back and knocking you out.”

“Ah, that was you, was it?” Aki’s gaze became considering. “The women in this world are all warriors, then?”

“Most of them,” Einarr answered for her. “They don’t seem to believe they need a man, either.” His cool gaze flicked over her and his mind remained closed. That hurt more than she had anticipated.

Aki laughed. “All women need a man. How else would they have children?”

Frey glared at him. “They don’t need a man for that. Just his sperm.”

Aki’s gaze widened. “But, how—”

Einarr talked over him. “I was recounting the tale of my emergence from the ice to Gron and Mitzi Lahm. I thought you might wish to tell them what you witnessed as well, Frey.”

Mitzi swiveled in her seat to stare at Frey. “We already have her report. Her participation isn’t necessary.”

Gron held up his hand. “I don’t agree. I’d like to hear from Science Officer Frey.”

Mitzi snorted and folded her arms, shoving her ample chest upward and drawing Aki’s appreciative gaze. “Fine, but as far as FREN is concerned, she’s already lost her job. I won’t be recommending her to any other space program.”

Frey set her jaw as she took the seat Gron offered her. “Have you both read the report from the science officer on Aki’s ship? He noted the same sequence of events that I did. It can hardly be a coincidence that both Vikings defrosted at exactly the same time during the same phase of the eclipse.”

Gron nodded. “She does have a point, Mitzi.”

“But the other science officer didn’t fornicate with his charge, did he?” Mitzi said sweetly.

“He was the first to be knocked out. Maybe he didn’t have a chance to make the same physical connection I did,” Frey said.

“As if a big strong Viking warrior would be attracted to another man,” Mitzi scoffed.

“Why would he not?” Aki shrugged. “I am willing to enjoy a tumble in the hay with anyone.” He met Frey’s eyes and smiled slightly. “I can see why my brother was enticed into your bed. I would have done the same as he did.”

Frey’s cheek heated. ”Thanks, I think.” She didn’t dare look at Einarr.

“Still—” Mitzi started and Gron talked over her.

“Unfortunately, both the TSA and FREN have rules about fraternization with other crew members, rules which you broke, Science Officer Frey.”

“Einarr wasn’t a crew member.”

“He was the property of FREN,” Mitzi snapped. “And you had no right to act in such an unprofessional manner.”

Einarr scowled. “I am nobody’s property and neither is my brother. Frey and I had no choice in our joining. We were destined to meet by Fate. I do not regret my mating with her. She is my female.”

“She can’t be,” Gron said gently. “You’re still in a state of shock. Any decisions you make at this point are not really valid or realistic.”

Einarr’s laugh was harsh. “You sound like Frey. She too imagines I am not a man of my word.”

Frey swallowed hard. “That’s not true. I—”

“You are mated to my brother?” Aki’s voice sounded in her head as Mitzi interrupted her and went off on another rant.

“I don’t know.”

“I can feel the link between you. It is strong.”

“And there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m about to lose my job and be sent away. Einarr will stay here with you.”

“A warrior such as yourself does not fight for what she wants?”

“I’m a scientist, not a warrior.”

“You do not care for my brother?”

“I—” Frey broke off contact as she noticed Einarr staring right at her. She returned her attention to Mitzi and Gron and answered all the questions they threw at her. Despite being pressed, she couldn’t bring herself to deny her sexual relationship with Einarr, or even to say it had been a mistake. And that lack of remorse would be her downfall. No one in the TSA or FREN would let her near another scientific mission in case she made a habit of seducing attractive aliens.

Eventually, Gron nodded at the Vikings. “Thank you for all your help. We would appreciate your cooperation and your patience while we assemble a program to help you readjust to life in this century. We weren’t anticipating the speed of your emergence from the ice.”

Einarr pushed his chair back and looked up at Gron. “We will bide here as you wish. Unless you have the ability to magic us back to our original time, then I fear we are stuck on this planet and at your mercy.”

“I repeat that we wish you no harm,” Gron said earnestly. “After a period of necessary adjustment, we will do everything in our power to make sure that you both live full and satisfying lives.”

“And what will you require from us in return?” Einarr asked.

“Your cooperation,” Gron repeated.

“And your agreement to be studied by our scientists,” Mitzi added. “We need to learn as much about your DNA as we can.”

Aki snorted. “I do not understand these words.”

“What she means is that you will be given everything necessary to survive and thrive in this world.” Seeing the incomprehension of the men’s faces, Frey couldn’t help but speak up. “In return, you will help the scientists, the seekers of knowledge and the healers find out more about you and how you are different from the current population.”

“Studied as one would study an enemy’s habits before moving in for the kill? Or as one hunts one’s prey?” Einarr murmured. “Does this mean we will never be truly free?”

Frey looked at Gron and Mitzi. “That’s up to them. I would hope that you are eventually reintegrated completely into society.”

Mitzi stood and smiled at the Vikings before turning to Frey. “Perhaps we should leave the brothers to think through this discussion. Science Officer Frey, you will accompany me.”

As Einarr made no effort to detain her, Frey could only walk out of the door and wait for Mitzi and Gron to come after her. Would this be the last time she saw Einarr? Could she even bear to have to see him again? It already felt like her heart was breaking in two.

Mitzi beckoned imperiously at the security guard. “Brown? Take Science Officer Frey back to the detention center.”

“What have I done now?” Frey blinked as Brown approached her, his expression resolute.

Mitzi held her ground. “You are not a good influence on our guests, and you are still facing charges of dereliction of duty and fraternizing with an unknown alien race.”

“He’s human!” Frey snapped.

Mitzi ignored her impassioned interruption. “You will be tried, and if I have my way, your mind will be wiped before you are allowed back into a society far away from these Vikings.”

“You can’t do that to a Pavlovan,” Frey raised her voice as Mitzi turned away and Gron followed her without even protesting.

Brown touched her shoulder. “Come on, Tecky. I have my orders.”

“No!” Frey shrugged off his hand. “This can’t be allowed to happen, I have rights, I want to see my—”

A hand clamped down hard on her shoulder. “There’s no point in upsetting our guests now is there? Come on, or I’ll get Dr. Aziz to knock you out.”

Frey refused to stop struggling. Voluntarily leaving Alpha Three and the man she knew was her mate was one thing. Having those memories forcibly removed from her head was another thing entirely. She would not allow them to take that away from her, she would not.

She kicked out and caught one of the security guards in the kneecap and then knew no more as a needle jabbed into her neck and the whole world went black.

Einarr stared down at his folded hands as Frey and the others left the room. He’d successfully managed to build a wall in his mind to keep Frey out, but it was a pitiful, harsh existence being barricaded away from her warmth.

“Your woman is very beautiful,” Aki said.

“She is not my woman. She does not want me.”

“How can she not want you when your thoughts and hers are even more entangled than yours are with mine? She cannot break those bonds. She cannot deny them.”

“She thinks I am clinging to her because she was the first woman I saw when I woke up and that when I grow accustomed to living in this strange world, I will no longer desire her.”

Aki stretched and yawned. “Now why would she say that?”

“Because she thinks it is the truth?” Einarr growled. “And mayhap she is right.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Aki considered him. “Perhaps she is trying to save you from yourself.”

“Save me from a woman who isn’t afraid of my strength or my magic?” Einarr shook his head. “Frey is my perfect woman. She just doesn’t believe it.”

“Then how are you going to convince her to stay?”

“You make it sound so simple.” Einarr shot to his feet and took a turn around the room. “You have seen how the women are in this place. They cannot be told what to do like slaves.”

“Perhaps you could make a bargain with the FREN and TSA people. You will help with their studies if they let Frey stay with you.”

“And trap her in a cage, too?”

“Bjáni!” Aki threw up his hands. “Then you both insist on being heroic and losing each other forever? If that is the truth, then you are a pair of fools.” His expression changed as Einarr went still. “What is it?”

“I cannot sense Frey in my head.”

“But we just saw her.” Aki rose to his feet as Einarr charged toward the door, his axe already in his hand. “Where are you going?”

“To find her.” Einarr wrenched open the door, and was met with a wall of guards all with their weapons raised and pointed at him. He recognized one of the men from the ship.

“Moshe, I wish you no harm. Where is Frey?”

“Brown’s taken her to the detention center.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Moshe dropped his gaze and fiddled with his weapon. “She refused to cooperate with the FREN representative. They will keep her locked up until her trial tomorrow.”

“Her trial?” Einarr realized he was shouting but he didn’t care. “What in Thor’s name is she supposed to have done?”

Moshe met his gaze, his expression neutral. “She will be charged with disobeying direct orders from her TSA superiors and from FREN.”

Einarr’s hand clenched around the handle of his axe. “What will happen to her if she is found guilty?”

“It depends on the judge coming in tomorrow. They are drawn from all the planets in the Trios System. She should be okay if she doesn’t get an Etruscan. They hate telepaths and—”

“Moshe? May I suggest you shut the fuck up right now?” Brown appeared behind the group of guards who parted to let him through to confront Einarr. “Science Officer Frey will be fine, Viking. She resisted arrest and had to be temporarily subdued.”

“If you hurt her I will kill you.” Einarr glared at Brown. “You will take me to her immediately.”

“I can’t do that, pal.” Brown sighed. “And if you attempt to get to her using excessive force, I’ve been authorized to knock you and your brother out, too.”

There was a light touch on Einarr’s arm. “Brother? Perhaps we should lower our weapons and consider what we wish to do next.”

“I want to find Frey,” Einarr growled. “There is nothing I wish to consider.”

Aki’s grip tightened. “We will help her better when they think we are resigned to her fate. Do not rush into this like a blundering ox.”

“You are giving me advice now?”

“Aye, because Frey’s life matters to you more than anything. We cannot fail her.”

Still holding Brown’s unwavering stare, Einarr lowered his axe. “I wish to be present at her trial.”

“I will ask if that is possible.”

“Tell them that if I am not allowed to be present and Frey suffers from her association with me, I will not work with their scientists.”

“And neither will I,” Aki added.

“I’ll tell them.” Brown waited until Aki put his sword away and then gestured at the door. “Please return to your quarters. I’ll keep you updated as to Science Officer Frey’s condition and your request to be at the trial.”

“Thank you, Brown.”

“You are welcome, Viking.” Brown waited until the guards had resumed their positions before escorting the brothers into their room. “Off the record, I don’t believe this matter is being handled correctly. I’ll do my best to stand as a friend to Tecky.”

“I appreciate that.” Einarr gave the other man an abrupt nod. “I will not allow her to be harmed.”

“They won’t kill her.” Brown paused. “You can rest easy about that.”

“Then what will they do?” Aki asked.

“The minimum—they’ll strip her of her military and professional rank and drum her out of the scientific space corp.” Brown shrugged. “She’ll be allowed to return to her home planet, but her reputation will be in tatters.”

“And what if the judge is an…” Aki looked at Einarr. “What was the word that guard used?”

“Etruscan,” Einarr said.

Brown grimaced. “If the judge is Etruscan he’ll probably try for a harsher sentence, including jail time.”

“You are not reassuring me as to my mate’s welfare, Brown,” Einarr said. “I don’t want her to suffer because of me.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Brown said encouragingly. “You can’t be imagining you have a future together or anything?”

Einarr swung around and barely resisted the impulse to wrap his fingers around Brown’s neck and squeeze hard.

“She is mine.”

“She’s her own person, Viking. Women are no longer seen as possessions in this space system. And maybe if she thinks it will leave you free of her, Tecky will be okay about taking her punishment. I know she wants you to stay here and transition into a normal life.” Brown nodded at Aki and headed for the door. “I’ll keep you both informed.”

Einarr waited until the door shut, picked up the nearest object and threw it hard against the wall where it shattered on impact. The shards of glass reminded him of the moment when he’d emerged from the ice and been reborn. He sank down onto his haunches and shoved his hands through his hair.

“I will not give her up, Aki.”

“I understand.” His twin patted his shoulder. “I have never seen you like this before Einarr.”

“Brown is a fool, but he is also right. Frey is trying to protect me. That’s why she keeps saying she doesn’t want me.”

“Then she is a noble and courageous woman.”

“And a fool.” Einarr exhaled. “By Thor, I don’t mean that. Although I’d still like to shake her until her teeth rattle.”

Aki grinned. “Then all we need to decide is how we are going to find her and set her free.”

11

Frey swayed a little as she faced the front of the hastily convened courtroom. Her head still throbbed and she was queasy after her hurried breakfast. Because she’d attacked one of her guards the previous day, her hands were manacled behind her with a narrow plastic strip that bit into her skin. After a signal from the bench, Brown gently nudged her forward.

“Go on, Tecky.”

She raised her chin and walked toward the central table, which faced the female judge who didn’t look particularly warm and fluffy. In fact, her expression was downright hostile.

“She’s Etruscan,” Brown murmured in Frey’s ear.

“Frak,” Frey breathed out the curse. “Preprogrammed to hate me on sight. I wonder if Mitzi arranged that?”

The man at the table to Frey’s right stood and started speaking, introducing the judge, who went by the name of Trallis Verchon, himself as the FREN-sponsored prosecutor and the male on Frey’s left who was apparently her defense.

“Excuse me?” Frey said loudly. The man didn’t stop speaking. “EXCUSE ME? I was not consulted about my defense. I wish to speak to the Pavlovan ambassador for this region.”

The male stopped talking and glanced at the judge who stared at Frey.

“The Pavlovan ambassador has been informed of this trial. If he cannot be bothered to turn up, we are prepared to proceed without him.”

“I am not prepared to do that,” Frey said firmly. “I know my rights. Trios System regulations state that all officers of TSA are entitled to representation by a lawyer from their own planet.”

“Orin, your representative is from Pavlovan.”

“But I haven’t had a chance to speak to him,” Frey countered.

“He has been fully prepared by FREN to defend your case.” The judge nodded at the two men. “Please proceed.”

“But—”

“Science Officer Frey, if you don’t keep quiet I will have you taken from the court and tried in your absence.”

“You—”

“Be silent. This is your last warning.”

Frey pressed her lips together as the prosecutor, whose name was Braze, began speaking. Hearing herself described as a sloppy worker who ignored protocol, disobeyed orders from superiors and lacked basic human decency was difficult enough. When Braze started in on her morals, she had trouble keeping her temper. According to him, she was some kind of temptress who had deliberately led the poor little Viking astray and used him for her own wicked ends.

After this general character assassination, Braze moved on to specific incidents, and Frey’s mind began to wander with the absurdity of it. She could only hope that Einarr and Aki had been kept in ignorance of her trial. The last thing she wanted was to be rescued by an irate Viking…

She glanced over at Braze, who was really warming up to his theme of her incompetence. All things considered, seeing Einarr bury his axe in the man’s head might be quite cathartic. But she couldn’t think about that now. Her yearning to be with her mate was hard enough to bear without asking him to commit murder for her. She had to believe that justice would be served. She had to believe the Etruscan judge would be fair-minded and lenient.

Heeze… Frey sighed. Like that was going to happen. She was going down. The only question left was how severe would the penalty be.

Witnesses were called. To their credit, most of the crew from her ship tried hard not to implicate Frey. They were restricted to answering the very narrow questions Braze asked. All of which showed her in the worst possible light. If it was possible, the judge’s lips narrowed even further, making her look as if she was sucking on something sour.

Even Captain Travis tried to defend her in his own way, but Frey knew nothing would help. FREN wanted to hold her entirely responsible for their decision-making and there was nothing she or anyone else from the TSA could do about it. Scapegoat, was an Earth word. She wondered if Einarr knew it.

“Tecky?”

“Slavin. How are you?”

“I’m at the space dock with the Pavlovan ambassador. We’re waiting for a member of the security council to arrive. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

Frey tried to relax as the prosecutor finally shut up and her defense stood. He consulted his notes and cleared his throat.

“The defense cannot dispute any of the evidence presented to the court so far. We do, however, want to mention that until this incident, our client had an exemplary record and that in any sentencing, that record should be used to ameliorate the harshness of the punishment.”

He sat down again.

Frey turned toward him. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Science Officer Frey,” the judge said. “You have been warned.”

“But this is ridiculous!” Frey shouted as Brown advanced toward her, his expression troubled. “He did nothing to defend me!”

The judge stood and looked right at Frey. “This court finds you guilty on all counts. You will be incarcerated in a class-one Pavlovan penitentiary for a minimum of a year. Your memories of this entire incident will be eradicated. The court may rise.”

“No!” Frey was yelling now as Brown dragged her toward the door of the court. “I refuse to accept this verdict. Einarr, help me!”

There was a sudden crash behind her and a scream and then Brown was knocked away from her. A huge muscled arm locked around her waist and dragged her back toward the wall. The plastic bonds around her wrists loosened as Einarr cut her free with his dagger.

“I am here, my female.”

Amongst the screaming, she heard Trallis shouting orders. Aki came up behind the judge and held the tip of his sword to her throat. His blue eyes glittered as he smiled.

“Everyone get out, or I will kill her,” he roared.

The legal teams took flight, followed by the remaining security guards leaving Aki, the judge, an unconscious Brown and her and Einarr occupying a suddenly quiet room.

“Are you unharmed, my heart?” Einarr demanded.

With a sob, Frey turned in his arms and buried her face against his armored chest. “I couldn’t let them take my memories of you away. That’s not fair. I have to have something left to remember you by.”

“When you give me up?”

“I don’t want to do that either, but I can’t involve you in all this craziness. It’s just not right.”

He slid a finger under her chin and made her look up at him. “I am already involved. This entire world seems crazed to me. Now that I have disrupted a court and taken a judge hostage, I suspect my chances of escaping your planet’s justice have just shortened considerably. Mayhap we can share a cell?”

She gulped. “Oh Gods, why did you have to say that? It’s so romantic.”

“Frey, you called me from the ice. You saved my soul.”

“I did what FREN told me to do. I didn’t—”

He kissed her firmly on the mouth. “You called to my blood. We were fated to meet.”

“But—”

Somewhere by her feet, Brown groaned and rolled onto his back.

“May I intrude?” Einarr’s head snapped around toward the elegant white-suited male who stood at the wrecked door. Frey gasped at the immense surge of telepathic power that radiated from the still figure. Behind him stood Slavin and another man who both looked anxious.

“Senator Ash?” the judge whispered.

“Yes.” The male’s smile was charming. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He glanced back at the door and beckoned Slavin and the man whom Frey reckoned had to be the regional Pavlovan ambassador forward. “My security team will make sure we aren’t disturbed.” He turned his attention toward Aki. “Perhaps you might lower your weapon and assist the Honorable Trallis Verchon to a seat?”

“Einarr?” Aki frowned and turned to his twin. “Shall I release this Kúkalabbi?”

Frey spoke fast. “This man is Senator Ash, the head of the Pavlovan Senate. He is the most powerful man on our planet.”

“And a friend to you or our foe?” Einarr asked her.

“I would hope he’s a friend.” Frey noticed Slavin nodding vigorously.

“Then Aki, stand down and allow the judge to sit and speak with this man.”

Frey held her breath as the senator took a seat opposite Trallis Verchon and waved at everyone else to do the same. Aki shook his head and stayed behind the judge, one hand on his sword as if ready to lop off her head at a word from Einarr.

Einarr took Frey’s hand and sat beside her, his booted foot almost resting on Brown’s head.

Ash looked down at the recumbent figure. “Perhaps Security Officer Brown might be helped into a chair as well.”

With an ungracious sound, Einarr bent down, hauled Brown to his feet and dumped him unceremoniously in a seat.

“Now, judge, would you be so kind as to repeat your verdict on this case to me?” Ash said.

“I found the prisoner guilty on all counts, Senator.”

“And the sentence?”

Trallis raised her chin. “Science Officer Frey will be incarcerated in a class-one Pavlovan penitentiary for a minimum of a year.”

Frey turned to Ash when Trallis stopped speaking. “With all due respect, Senator. The judge forgot to mention the bit about eradicating my memory.”

A slight crease appeared on Ash’s smooth brow. “Are you quite sure she said that?”

Brown cleared his throat. “She did, Senator. I heard her. The court record should confirm it.”

“You do realize, Judge Trallis, that eradicating a telepath’s memory is illegal?” Ash stated. “Amendment 3.275 to the Trios System Agreement states it quite clearly.”

“I believe that amendment only refers to cases where the entire memory is removed, Senator Ash.” Trallis managed to sound both contemptuous and smug. “I gave instructions that only this particular event would be removed as requested by FREN.”

“No, that’s not correct. Any memory eradication is illegal.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Pavlovan ambassador. “You have the files on this don’t you, Dracon?”

“I do, Senator, and I will be quite happy to share them with the judge at her convenience.”

Ash sat back slightly. “Then I think we can agree that the latter part of the sentence should be struck from the records, can’t we Judge Trallis? You wouldn’t wish your unfortunate lack of knowledge of your own star system’s laws to become public, would you?”

Trallis glared at Ash, but did eventually nod. Frey breathed out hard through her nose.

“Now, as to the length of the incarceration…”

“Science Officer Frey’s defense conceded that she was guilty of all charges,” Trallis snapped. “I see no reason to revisit my decision.”

Ash’s faint smile died. “I will have to disagree with you. Her defense is currently employed by FREN who had a vested interest in Science Officer Frey being convicted. From all unbiased accounts of the so-called trial, Science Officer Frey was defended by a man who didn’t even attempt to get her side of the story or offer up any witnesses in her defense. If he had performed this most basic of tasks, he would have realized that Science Officer Frey has mitigating circumstances, which would have affected her sentence.”

“I don’t understand your point, Senator.”

“It is quite simple. There is another amendment within the agreement that specifically addresses the individual cultural mating habits of all species in the Trios System.”

“And what does that have to do with your science officer’s inability to follow orders and her immoral conduct?”

“Immoral?” Ash raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Frey and Einarr who were still holding hands. “Ah, of course. As you are not a telepath, Judge Trallis, you would be unable to sense the complex bond that exists between mated couples.”

The judge blinked. “You are suggesting that Science Officer Frey is mated to this Viking?”

“Aye,” Einarr spoke up. “She is my female by right of blood and heart.”

Ash turned to Frey. “Can you confirm that, Science Officer?”

She stared into Einarr’s blue eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes. I believe Einarr Bloodaxe is my mate.”

The expression of disgust on Judge Trallis’s face was something to behold. “You expect me to take the word of a telepath? On my world, they aren’t even given full citizenship.”

Ash stood and inclined his head a frosty inch. “Not just the word of a telepath, Judge, but my word as the head of the Pavlovan Senate. They are not lying. I can clearly sense the bond between them. I am quite willing to swear to it on oath in a court of law. If you don’t adjust the sentence, I will personally ensure that the next thing you judge will be the annual wild hildabeasts contest out on Wraxon Five.”

The judge subsided back into her chair, her face white. After a long moment, she looked up at Ash, the set of her jaw rigid with fury. “I refuse to change my verdict. I prefer to resign from this travesty of a court system.”

“As you wish.” Ash bowed. “We will arrange for a new trial for Science Officer Frey and erase all records of your ruling.” As the judge rose to her feet, Ash continued talking. “You will also agree to keep this matter between us. If I hear any unsavory rumors about Science Officer Frey’s reputation, I will pass all the information I have about you to the Trios System Legal Council. I’m sure they’ll be in touch with you shortly afterward.”

“Telepaths should never have been allowed into positions of authority,” Trallis sneered. “Government becomes meaningless when run with emotion.”

“You are entitled to your opinion, Trallis Verchon.” Ash took a step to the side. “May I suggest you allow my ambassador to see you safely on your way to Etrusca before the two Vikings, who are also telepaths, decide to take justice into their own hands?”

With a last scathing look in Frey’s direction, Trallis swept out of the room with the Pavlovan ambassador right on her heels.

“What an extremely unpleasant individual,” Ash murmured. “I suspect the entire Trios System will rejoice at her unexpected retirement.”

There was the sound of raised voices at the door. Even as Einarr stiffened, Brown went to see what was going on. He spoke over his shoulder to Ash. “Senator, the representatives from FREN and the TSA wish to speak to you.”

“I’m sure they do. Tell them to wait quietly, and I’ll talk to them in a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ash turned back to Einarr and Aki. “You are telepaths, aren’t you?”

Einarr met his stare. “If by that you mean we can mind-talk, then aye we are.”

“Was it common in your day?”

“Nay, only a few families had the honor of being connected to our Gods with such magical powers.”

“And how strange and miraculous is it that you come back to life and met a female who can read your mind as well?” Ash said softly.

“She called to me through the ice. I fought my way out to her.”

“It also had something to do with the eclipse,” Frey added, still flustered by the appearance of such a legendary telepath and the leader of the senate. “We’re not quite sure how.”

Ash nodded and slid a hand through his long, fair hair, pushing it back over his shoulder. He looked tired. “When you and Aki feel ready to move on, you would be most welcome to reside on Pavlovan. We are always interested in meeting new telepaths and learning from each other. You both have such interesting minds.”

Einarr nodded. “Your thoughts shine like the sun.”

“You can sense me?” Ash smiled. “I am considered to be quite a powerful telepath.” His expression sobered as he looked from Einarr to Frey. “If you wish to be together in the end, you might have to deal with some time apart in the present. Einarr needs to stay here with Aki to acclimatize to our world, and Science Officer Frey…”

“Is supposed to be going to prison,” Frey muttered.

“I suspect house arrest for a period of weeks will be required,” Ash finished after her. “I still need to speak to the FREN rep.”

“She’s after my blood, too.”

“So I heard.” Ash beckoned to Brown. “Let Gron and Mitzi Lahm in, please.”

“You know their names?”

Ash winked at Einarr, and for a moment Einarr wondered what it would be like to share a bed with a man of such beauty and such power. “It took me quite a while to get here. I read up on everything my cousin Elli sent me on the way.”

He stood as Mitzi erupted into the room followed by Gron.

“Good morning.”

Gron saluted. “Senator, I wish to offer you my apologies. When I heard the trial verdict, I realized that TSA protocol had been violated. I was already in communication with my superiors to overturn the sentence.”

“So I heard, Gron.” Ash paused. “It’s a pity that you didn’t think of that sooner, but I appreciate the effort and you may stand down.”

Gron sank into a chair. Mitzi stared at Ash as if he were a god come to life. “You are here. It’s true!” She pressed her hand to her bosom. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Please take a seat.” Ash waved her into a chair. “Judge Trallis has resigned and rescinded her verdict. We will conduct a new trial of Science Officer Frey.”

“But—” Mitzi tried to laugh. “How can that be? She deserves to be punished. She—”

“Science Officer Frey found her mate and protected him to the best of her ability,” Ash said firmly. “If you were a telepath, you would’ve done the same thing.”

“I…would have?”

Einarr wanted to smile at Mitzi’s confused expression, but Frey’s grip on his hand was still so tight that he’d have her nails imprinted in his skin for days. Not that he minded—although he’d prefer her cat scratches on his back…

Beside him Aki snorted. “Careful, brother. Guard your salacious thoughts. You have a room full of mind talkers around you.”

Frey’s color rose even higher, and she determinedly wouldn’t look at him or his twin.

Mitzi’s gaze sharpened. “Are you suggesting that a Pavlovan finding their mate, if that is indeed what happened here, carries more weight than a crew member who disobeys or fabricates orders from their superiors?”

“I’m simply saying that it changes the nature of the perceived error.”

Mitzi folded her arms. “I’m not willing to accept that.”

“If that isn’t a sufficient reason for you, then I’m sure FREN will be willing to publicly accept responsibility for their own failures during this mission.”

“Hold up,” Mitzi said. “What failures?”

Slavin stepped forward and handed Ash a white tablet, which he accepted with thanks. Behind Einarr, Aki stiffened. His gaze fixed on Slavin.

Ash glanced down at the tablet. “I have the highest security clearance possible in the Trios System. I recovered several top-secret security transmissions from FREN to the science officers on both ships. These messages confirm the orders both science officers insist they received and carried out with such disastrous effect during the eclipse. Orders that FREN denied sending in court today. “

Ash contemplated Mitzi’s furious face. “If you don’t believe the desire to find their mates made the Vikings emerge from the ice, then you have to believe that the orders from FREN to change the settings on the internal probes within the ice worked with the unknown effect of the eclipse to accelerate the defrosting process. I believe those codes were sent out by you, Mitzi.” Ash held out the tablet. “Do you wish to see your messages?”

Mitzi audibly swallowed. “You…can’t have accessed FREN channels. You aren’t authorized.”

“I am now.” Ash met her gaze. “If you wish this information to remain private you must agree to accept a lesser sentence for Science Officer Frey.”

Einarr could almost hear the frantic workings of Mitzi’s mind as she scowled down at the tablet.

“All right!” she snapped. “I’ll go along with this farce.”

“Thank you.” Ash retrieved the white tablet. “I will speak to the head of security on Alpha Three, FREN and the TSA and make certain that we are all agreed. Does anyone have any other questions?”

Mitzi stormed out, followed quickly by Gron and a grinning Brown, leaving Ash contemplating the Vikings. Frey finally let go of Einarr’s hand and went over to the senator.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why did you do all this for me?”

His smile gentled. “Because no one should be deprived of his or her mate. I almost lost my female once, and I would not wish that on anyone.” His mouth kicked up at the corner. “And, I owed my cousin Elli a favor from when we were children. I’ll leave it up to her as to whether she tells you what I did.”

Aki bumped against Einarr’s shoulder. “I wonder if Ash would consider sharing our bed? I suspect he would make a worthy mate.”

Ash looked up and caught Aki’s appreciative gaze. “Alas, I am happily mated to both a male and a female who would not take kindly to my bedding you both—but if I was single…believe me, I would be honored.”

His gaze fell on Slavin. “Don’t be too downhearted. I suspect my cousin would appreciate the opportunity to meet you, Aki.”

Without another word, Aki pushed past Einarr and converged on Slavin who clutched her tablet to her chest and stood her ground. A flash of something visceral passed between them, and Einarr discreetly raised the shields in his head.

He strolled toward Frey and nodded to Ash. “My thanks, Ash. I do not understand exactly what you did, but you vanquished my female’s enemies and for that I am grateful.”

“You are welcome, Einarr. Your mate will have to return to Pavlovan for a few weeks to serve out her sentence, but after that she will be free to visit you here and bring you home to Pavlovan if you are so inclined.”

“You will allow me to leave Alpha Three?”

“If you wish to.”

“Mitzi said I would have to stay here and be tested by your healers.”

“Mitzi was wrong. After the initial reintegration sessions, you can go wherever you please.”

“I will go where Frey is.” Einarr glanced over his shoulder at Aki who was still talking intently to Slavin. “I suspect my brother will favor Pavlovan, too.”

Ash bowed. “I will be leaving Alpha Three tomorrow morning. I will take Science Officer Frey into my custody. I suggest you make the most of your time together tonight.”

Einarr went down on one knee and kissed Ash’s hand. “I am your man for life, Ash. Yours to call, and yours to command. I pledge you my loyalty.”

For a fleeting moment Ash’s hand came to rest on his head. “I accept your oath, Einarr Bloodaxe.”

Einarr stood, grabbed Frey’s elbow and walked her toward the door. If she was leaving him tomorrow, he wanted to enjoy every last moment with her behind a closed door.

12

Frey allowed Einarr to lead her out of the courtroom and back down the hallway. As he seemed to know where he was going, she didn’t argue, her mind still too busy trying to come to terms with what had happened. She’d heard Senator Ash was an exceptional man, but she hadn’t expected him to turn out to be her own personal savior.

“Here.” Einarr guided her through a door and shut it behind them. “Can you secure it against everyone?”

“Yes.” She pressed her hand to the security panel and realigned the locks without really thinking and realized they were back in the room they’d shared before Aki had woken up.

Frey sank down on the side of the bed and closed her eyes as Einarr disappeared into the attached bathroom. She heard water running and then he was beside her again, kneeling on the floor, a cloth in his hands. He carefully washed her face and then let the cloth fall to the floor.

“Frey?”

She stared down at him. “I am so glad you are with me,” she said simply. “When I realized that I might lose all knowledge of you, I…” She shook her head. “I realized how stupid I’d been, and how cowardly and—”

He put his finger on her lips. “You are no coward. You fought for me in your own way.” He sighed. “I am the one who should be apologizing. I could not save you. If Ash hadn’t arrived, the guards would probably have shot Aki and me, and you would be on your way to prison. But when you called out to me…despite everything, I could not stop myself from coming to your aid.”

She reached down to cup his cheek. “And I couldn’t stop calling out to you to save me. I realized I would rather die alongside you than be taken away to die alone.”

He turned his face into her palm and kissed it. “Then we are both fools.”

“I think we’ve already agreed on that. Will you be okay? I mean all right when I’m in Pavlovan?”

He grimaced. “I will miss you greatly, but I will survive the separation if I know you will return to me.”

“And what if you change your mind and realize I’m not the right person for you?” Frey took a deep breath. “We hardly know each other really, do we? And you might feel differently when you are more familiar with this world.”

“Frey.” He held her gaze. “I know you.”

“Only for a couple of Earth weeks.”

“Weeks? Don’t you understand, my love? I’ve been waiting for you for four thousand years.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

“I was barely aware when I was trapped in the ice. Sometimes, I felt a wisp of emotion, or a sense of someone, but when I felt you…” He let out a breath. “I had no choice, but to force myself back to life. For you…”

“I don’t deserve such devotion. I’m just a plain, boring old science officer with nothing in particular to be proud of.” She paused. “Apart from the way I shouted down that judge at my trial, and when I saved you on the ship and—” She looked down at him. “Maybe I’m not such a wuss after all.”

“I am not sure what a wuss is, but you are the bravest woman I have ever met.” He pressed a kiss to her knee. “May I make love to you? If we are to be apart, I wish to have good memories to keep me strong.”

She opened her arms wide, and he came down over her, pushing her onto the mattress, his big solid body covering her entirely. With a soft sound, he drew her arms over her head and held them at the wrist in one easy grip.

“Will you think of me when you are at home?” He nudged her knees apart with his thigh and resumed his position between them, the hard ridge of his shaft now wedged against her sex.

“Yes.”

He rocked his hips. “Will you dream of me?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her nose and then her forehead before making his way down to her mouth and possessing it. She responded immediately, her body aroused and her mind reaching out to his. This time she had no barriers or self-doubt. He was her other half, or was that her other third? And be damned to all the problems they would undoubtedly face. They would meet them together.

He released her hands and started to undress her, placing kisses on each piece of skin he uncovered until she was rubbing against him and demanding more. When she was completely naked, he rose over her and stripped, throwing his clothes to the floor to join hers in an untidy heap. As she watched his strong body emerge, she shivered with need. His skin was scarred from battles long past and his muscles bulged and flexed as he moved. She raised a languid hand and traced the black pattern of the tattoo that ran up his left arm.

He lowered himself over her and she caught the scent of leather and the sea and moaned out loud as he licked her nipple into his mouth and caressed the other one between his finger and thumb.

“My woman.”

His hand slid between her spread thighs and he murmured his pleasure as his fingers encountered her slick readiness.

“You want me.”

There was a hint of dark satisfaction in his voice that didn’t offend her at all. Despite being thrust into a completely new world, Einarr had known what he’d wanted from the first moment he’d seen her. One had to admire that in a man and especially in a life mate.

“Take me inside you, then.”

The crown of his cock nudged her clit and then slid downward and inward, filling her so completely that she sighed with pleasure and brought her legs high around his hips. He pushed deep and held still, the throb of his shaft mimicking the beat of his heart and the sensation of him inside her head.

She angled her hips, inviting him deeper, and then gasped as he started to pump harder, each thrust nailing her to the bed. She wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could, absorbing his movements and opening herself up to him. His scent filled her nostrils and she licked his throat and then bit him, sending a shudder through his frame and increasing his frantic pace.

“Come for me.”

His fingers slid between them and he stroked her clit with his callused thumb until she forgot everything but the pleasure and the need in a shattering climax. Even as she tried to relax, he cupped her ass in his big hands and angled her higher against the roll of his hips. Each stroke of his cock pounded against her clit until there was nothing but a thin blue light of ecstasy connecting and reforming them into one entity that could never be broken.

“Ah, by Odin…”

Einarr groaned against her throat and then came deep within her, each hot pulse setting off another climax for Frey and prolonging his release. He lowered himself over her and laid still, his heart pounding against her breast. Her hand remained tangled in his long black hair.

Silence enveloped them, and Frey let it consume her as her mind slowly and reluctantly detached itself from Einarr’s. She sensed that even if they were apart, she would never be completely alone again. She’d always believed that would be terrifying.

It felt…wonderful.

Einarr rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, aware that during their coupling he had somehow lost himself again, but gained so much more.

“You will come back to me,” he said the words out loud rather than in his mind.

“Yes,” Frey said. “I don’t think I could stay away.”

He drew her against his chest as a wave of thankfulness swept over him. The days ahead would be difficult, he had no doubt of that, but at least he would have Frey and Aki at his side. She nuzzled his chest.

“TSA law also states that if I go into a mating phase, then I have to be given leave to be with my mate or mates.”

“What does that mean?”

“Every so often the female in a triad gets the urge to breed. She doesn’t actually have to have a child, but the desire for her mates becomes paramount and it is their duty to serve her.” She sighed. “That’s why a lot of females end up with two males.”

Einarr opened his eyes. “One man isn’t sufficient to satisfy his woman?”

“Not during a mating phase. A man might have to work very hard if he ends up with two women.”

Einarr considered that information. “I cannot decide which I would prefer. Two females to satisfy, or the prospect of competing with another male in my bed.”

“You might be grateful to have him there.” Her fingers spread out over his chest. “But the idea of a third doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it?”

“I thought Vikings became Christians.”

“Most of them did. My family also kept up the old ways. We knew magic existed and we were unwilling to give up our traditions.”

“That’s good.”

He kissed her hair. “Because you are already wishing for another man? Perhaps Aki—”

She slammed her hand over his mouth and came up on one elbow. “God, no, that would be far too weird. We can wait until we can both go before the Oracle of Pavlovan. Sometimes she will give you the name of your third. I think she would like to meet you anyway. She is a magical being.” She hesitated. “My mother said the Oracle told her to call me Frey after the Nordic goddess. I wonder if she knew I would find you?”

“If she is a seer, then I would imagine she did know. I would like to meet her.”

“Then we shall go to the temple when you are free to leave here.” She smiled down at him. “And I also think Aki is far too interested in my friend Slavin to want to share your bed.”

“I noticed that.”

“She is a wonderful person. He would be lucky to have her as a mate.”

“As I am to have you.” He reached across and lifted her over him so that she straddled his lap. “Now I am tired of talking, woman. Perhaps you might consider sitting on my cock and riding me?” He smiled into her beautiful, flushed face. “I do have four thousand years of no fucking to make up for.”

She squirmed against his stomach and then raised herself to take him deep. He held his breath as he slowly filled her.

“You hold my heart in your hands, Frey.”

She sighed. “You do say the most romantic things.”

“I mean them.”

“I know.” Her mouth trembled and a tear dripped down her cheek to land on his chest. “I just hope I can be worthy of you.”

He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and brought her face down to his. She was his lodestone, his guiding star.

“Trust me. You already are.”

THE END

Want more space Vikings and Triads? Then join Kate’s mailing list here and turn the page for an excerpt from “The Power of Three.”

MORE FROM KATE PEARCE

If you enjoyed Viking Unbound, join my mailing list to be the first to read the next book in the Triad series coming early next spring.

Viking Aki Bloodaxe knows what he wants, but in a society four thousand years ahead of his time how can he woo his fair maiden without falling foul of all the new rules? Simply throwing his woman over his shoulder and escaping to his longboat isn’t going to work… Can Pavlovan Elli Slavin convince him that she’s worth adapting his skill set to achieve true bonded love?

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EXCERPT:

The Power of Three.

(Triad series #1)

@Kate Pearce 2013

Planet Pavlovan, Trios System, 229982

“One moment, sir. I’ll go and find Senator Ash.”

Esca focused his gaze on the distant lights of the military base where he’d hoped to begin his career. His throat hurt and his gut was tied in knots. But he had to do the right thing, the reputation of his family depended on it.

A slight sound behind him made him turn. His gaze took in the long fair hair and perfect features of the man who studied him with equal interest. And frek, not only was his face good to look at, but his mind… the psychic power emanating from him called to something deep inside Esca, made him want to move closer…

“Esca? I’m Ash.”

Swallowing hard, Esca moved forward and fell to his knees in front of the other man. He formally kissed Ash’s fingers.

“First Male.”

“Thank you for observing the traditions. I appreciate it.” Ash withdrew his hand. “Now will you come and sit down? Let me offer you a drink. We have a lot to discuss.”

Esca rose to his feet aware that although he was as tall as Ash, he was already broader, and going to get even bigger.

“But aren’t you going to—“

“Take you straight to bed and ravish you?” Ash’s smile was sweet. “That isn’t really my style.”

Esca subsided into the nearest chair and waited until Ash gave him a drink and took the seat opposite him. “You don’t want me?”

“You’ve just graduated from military school, and you’re due to attend the space academy, correct?”

“That’s what I wanted to do, yes.”

“Then I suggest you go ahead and do it.” He looked up and Esca noticed how blue his eyes were. “The only difference will be that instead of going to your parents when you’re on leave, I’d like you to come here. I’d like you to start thinking of this as your home.”

“I don’t understand.” Esca tried not to scowl. “You could make me live here permanently, and stop me from being anything, but your mate.”

Ash raised his eyebrows. “Why would I do that? Don’t you think you deserve to fulfill your dreams?”

Esca let out his breath. “I want to be the best space fighter pilot our military has ever produced.”

“Then do it.” Ash toasted him with his glass. “We have all our lives to get to know each other.”

“I never imagined I’d have to—to—“

“Submit to another male?”

“Yeah.” Esca raised his chin. “I always thought I’d be First Male.”

“I can see why. From what I’ve read, you have extraordinary potential both in the military and as a psychic match for me.” He hesitated. “Do you feel that, at least?”

“That I’m drawn to what’s going on in your head?” Esca nodded. “Yeah, I get that loud and clear. It’s the other stuff I’m not so sure about.” He looked hastily down at his empty glass. “I’ve never been in a physical relationship with a male.”

“I know, which is why I’m not pushing that on you right now.”

“Right now?”

Ash smiled. “One day, I hope you’ll come willingly to my bed.” He shrugged. “I can wait.”