A Viking's Peace: Futuristic Science Fiction Romance (Vikings in Space Book 1) (2 page)

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.