The Viking Wants Forever (27 page)

“Don’t stop,” she bade him. “Never stop!”

“Such a ravenous appetite. I hate to interrupt.”

Eirik turned around so fast, he almost dropped her.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. In a show of protection, he shoved her behind him. His muscles bunched and the quiet energy he exuded spoke volumes. Foremost a warrior, he was ready for battle.

Chuckling, Loki emerged from the shadows. Eirik was tall, but he had nothing on the towering lankiness of the being before them.

“Who are you?” Eirik’s voice held an edge of awe. Reese didn’t blame him. Dressed entirely in green, Loki reminded Reese of a seven foot leprechaun.

“Why it’s me, your old friend Loki.”

“You are a madman!” Eirik scoffed. “What the —”

Slack-jawed, he rose several inches from the floor and then flew across the room. With a sick thud, he slammed into the opposite wall—all without Loki laying one supernatural finger on him.

“Leave him be!” Reese ran over and crouched over Eirik, who seemed somewhat disoriented, but unhurt.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench?” Loki’s green eyes filled with an unnatural light. “You’re at
my
mercy, remember?”

She wanted to tell him to go to Hell. Instead she jumped up and located the leather travel sack. She rifled through its contents, finding what she was looking for, she walked over to Loki and held out her palm. The black tourmaline dangled from her fingers. “Not anymore. I’ve done what you’ve brought me here to do.”

“He brought you here?” Eirik grunted as he hefted himself to his feet.

Reese sighed heavily. He would end up hating her, but he deserved to know the truth. “About three months ago, I failed to give due reverence to the ole divine one here, while playing a stupid game of Gargoyles and Dragons. So, out of revenge, he brought me here —a thousand years from my own time, to steal the necklace you coveted so much but failed to pay the proper respect.”

“I was a pawn?”

“No...yes...I mean we were both his pawns. He threatened to destroy you and the entire settlement if I didn’t get him this necklace.” Reese practically shoved the necklace in the deity’s face. “Here. This is what you brought me here for, so take it.”

Loki’s wicked cackle reverberated off the walls of the cave, and Reese resisted the urge to kick him in his godly balls. “Such a useless emotion...love,” he jeered. Tears of merriment swimming in his eyes. “Too bad it will not serve its purpose here, though it is a virtuous notion.”

Reese felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “What are you talking about?” She asked. “You have the necklace. So leave us be.”

“THAT IS NOT HOW THE GAME IS PLAYED!” Loki roared. “It is up to me how I settle the score, not
you
! Don’t you realize the game has changed? Eirik no longer covets a black lump of coal,” he sneered, snatching the necklace from her hand and throwing it to the ground. “He now covets something else. Does he not?” Loki reached out and chucked her under her chin. “Is she not your most prized possession, Eirik?”

“No! Don’t answer him!” Reese warned, but it was too late. The ground opened beneath her.

“H
e’s a handsome one, isn’t he, Johanna?”

Her sister crouched down next to her. Lips pursed, she cocked her head. “How can you tell with the beard and this stench? He’s been living like a beast in this cave for weeks! Blessed Odin! Didn’t he believe in fresh air?”

“Tsk, tsk...those are only trifles. Once he’s crossed over, all that will fade away and his true beauty will resurface.”

“You’re too much of a romantic, Dagmar,” Johanna snorted. “It’s no wonder our mistress deems you one of her favorites. Eirik Sigurdsson is not so special! There are a thousand warriors as handsome as he in Valhalla, and many more of them died a more valiant death. ’Tis a shame! A mighty warrior such as he freezing to death while waiting on that woman to return.”

“Is it not romantic?” Dagmar whispered, touching the dead warrior’s face tenderly. At her touch, Eirik stirred. His eyelids flickered and then he opened his eyes. Both women gasped at their cerulean beauty.

“H-h-have I died and gone to Valhalla?” He croaked around his swollen tongue.

“Not exactly, warrior. You’re not in Valhalla...yet.”

“So...so I am dead?”

“Deader than a doornail,” Johanna quipped.

“Sister!”

“But it is true. And he better get used to, the sooner the better. Now grab his feet while I grab his shoulders.” They’d barely lifted him from the ground when the cave walls began to quake and rumble around them.

“It is Hel, She is coming for him!” Dagmar yelled. Her thick blonde braids swinging wildly. “Hurry, help me load him into the chariot. Freyja will have our hides if we allow that beast to get her talons in him.”

As if he were a straw-stuffed pillow, they loaded him into the back of their golden chariot. Once their cargo was sufficiently settled, Dagmar grabbed the reins and pointed the pack of white wolves toward Valhalla.

* * * * *

“M
y Mistress will see you now.” The young maiden stepped aside and allowed them to pass. Eirik held back as the two handmaidens —or Valkyries, as he’d come to learn —preceded him through the antechamber. Mighty warrior that he was on Earth, the day’s events were pushing him over the edge, and he hesitated on the threshold.

Could he be faulted for losing his nerve? In a short span of time, he’d learned he’d frozen to death during the night after being caught during a flash blizzard. He’d escaped the clutches of Hel, flown through the air in a golden chariot, and now he stood in the hallowed halls of Fólkvang, Freyja’s great hall, waiting for a private audience with the goddess herself.

He braced himself for a fight when Johanna, as she was called by the other woman in his escort, turned and gifted him with an angelic smile. “Come, Eirik Sigurdsson, there is nothing to fear.”

As if her words were magic, Eirik laid aside his reservations and fell into step with his two beautiful escorts. They both wore bronze armor, and yet they had nothing on the opulence of Freyja’s private chambers.

High enough to contain the tallest spruce and wide enough to stack several longships side by side, the chamber’s walls were inlaid with a shiny polished metal resembling pure silver, and the floors were inlaid with the finest maple. At the room’s center sat a huge circular bed, resembling an upside-down shield.

Not expecting to be shown to the goddess’s bedchamber, Eirik was unprepared for the sight of a large bed or its occupants—a young, beautiful maiden with hair the color of flax crouched on all fours and a swarthy warrior huffing and puffing behind her.

“Yessss, Ragn, my young warrior! Harder...harder!” Freyja cheered, spurring her young lover on. Eyes rolling in ecstasy, moaning like a wild animal, she rotated her buttocks into his brutish thrusts.

Shocked, Eirik glanced at Dagmar and Johanna. Unlike him, their expressions remained comically impassive, as if watching the goddess of love being stuck like a pig was a common occurrence. With each of her lover’s/stud’s strokes, her pink-tipped large breasts swayed back and forth. Feeling uneasy witnessing such an intimate scene, Eirik lowered his gaze and shuffled his feet.

“Shame on you, Eirik Sigurdsson! You cannot be uncomfortable witnessing such a natural act between two people.” Freyja giggled. “Why, I know from firsthand witnesses that you were very fond of this exact act with your last love, the fair Reese.”

Eirik stiffened, not for being called out for his former lustful nature, but at the mention of the woman who was forever lost to him.

“Do you think I am not aware...ohhhh Ragn! Yes, therrreee!” she panted. Her head dropped between her shoulders, and she keened loudly. “D-do you think I am not aware of what has transpired? I am a goddess! And as a being of higher power,” she peeked at him through a veil of golden hair, “I take a great interest in those who are weaker, and that includes...oh...oh...oh...humans. I have witnessed your joy and your pain. And you, Eirik Sigurdsson, have experienced more of the latter than the former.”

“Your father put up with you for your mother’s sake. Haakon hated you. Your first love pitched you aside for another. And now the one woman, who healed your heart is gone, lost to youuuu.” Freyja ended on a high note.

Feverish, her beautiful face turned a rosy shade of pink, matching her pert nipples. She slid her hand between her alabaster thighs, and rubbed her quim. Behind her, her lover quickened his pace, his pelvis pounding into her with lightning speed.

“I am undone, Mistress,” he bellowed, his seed trickling down the inside of Freya’s thighs.

Spent, he collapsed onto the bed. Arms outstretched, skin glistening with sweat, he looked like a human sacrifice. Fitting.

Purring, Freyja uncoiled herself from the bedding. Arms stretched overhead, eschewing a silver-spun robe offered by a dutiful attendant, she padded over to him.

Victorious in more battles then he could count, Eirik chided himself for the sliver of fear that ran down his spine. He knew he had reason to fear, because not only was she the goddess of fertility and love, but a formidable warrior in her own right, and because of this she received half of all warriors who died in battle.

“So, Eirik Sigurdsson, do you know why I have snatched you from the evil clutches of Hel? Or why I have summoned you to my private chambers, and not to
Sessrúmnir
with the rest of the fallen warriors?”

“No, Mistress.” Eirik averted his gaze, less she think him lacking respect.

“You poor babe, I sense so much pain within you. I wish I could right all the wrongs you’ve suffered.” She touched his shoulder, and a melting, pleasurable warmth shot through him. “But I can correct the last transgression you suffered at the hands of that maligner, Loki.”

“How can you accomplish this, Mistress?” Eirik asked, hope infused in his voice.

A small smile curved the goddess’s bow-shaped lips. “Why do you have such little faith in me, my noble warrior?”

“I-I am sorry for insulting you, Mistress,” Eirik implored, bowing his head in supplication.

“Do not bother yourself, Eirik Sigurdsson. You have worn your cloak of mistrust for a long time and it is to be expected. Hopefully, I will be able to help you remove it for the last time. As I said before, I can correct the recent wrong you’ve suffered by reuniting you with your lost love. I cannot send you back, because your people have located your body and are preparing it as we speak. I am sending you forward in time. I warn you that you have your work cut out for you. Reese no longer remembers you.”

Eirik mulled the ramifications of the goddess’s remedy. If he accepted he could be setting himself up for more pain. Still, he knew he would not be long for this world. No obstacle, not even death, could keep him away from Reese.

“Even if she were to hate me on sight that would be better than a world without her,” he whispered.

* * * * *

R
eese sighed and stretched, but did not open her eyes. The dream she’d been having, a medieval adventure featuring a vengeful deity and a smoking hot Viking, seemed so real and she was loathe to leave it behind. Never able to retain any memories of her nighttime reveries after awakening, she just wanted to lie here a little while longer and savor them, especially the hot sex with said warrior. Plus, since she’d quite her job at the Comic League, she could sleep in.

A sudden rush of fear assailing her, Reese sat up. She’d really done it. She’d walked out on a steady paycheck to pursue the unknown, follow her dreams. Tired of settling, she was finally going publish her Viking series. Too bad she’d only conceptualized the storyline and sketched a few of the characters. She still needed to pen the actual story, provide all the illustrations, then ink them.

Groaning, Reese plopped her head in her hands. Why did she pull up her big girl panties now? And with only enough savings to cover her rent for the next four months?

All memory of her dream now replaced by frightening reality, Reese got out of bed. She couldn’t move forward sitting around acting like her old self. She needed to set some goals then develop a solid plan to help realize them. At the top of her list? Establish a home office. She was a serious comic book artist now, and the living room couch would no longer suffice.

Her small, one-bedroom apartment didn’t give her many options, but the natural lighting in the living room was perfect. With a little rearranging of her mostly second-hand furniture, she could fit a desk by the bay windows. While she was at it, she added a trip to Ralph’s Art Supply in downtown Eau Gallie to her list of things to do. So devoted to her 9 to 5, she’d neglected to replenish her supplies.

Invigorated by the opportunity that lay ahead, Reese walked over to her laundry basket. She rifled through the folded contents, and pulled out a pair of jeans and one of her favorite t-shirts, a Black Panther throwback. If she remembered correctly, Molly Mutt’s discounted their furniture on Wednesdays and Saturdays. And if she didn’t find what she was looking for, there were a dozen other thrift stores on the Island. Smiling, Reese grabbed her limited edition G-Force Guardians of Space change purse.

Like her life, she had plenty of options from which to choose instead of settling.

* * * * *

“O
ne Americano with an extra shot for you. An iced chai latte for me.” Allen handed her her order as he took the seat across from her. Despite it being in the low nineties, they sat on Java the Hut’s outdoor patio.

Reese wrapped her hands around the warm cup of java and inhaled. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Allen, sipping his drink through a straw like a madman, paused. “Self-employment is not as awesome as it’s cracked up to be?”

“Not having to get out of bed, head to a job I began to hate? It’s heaven in that aspect. The comic’s giving me hell.”

“Writer’s block?”

“The least of my worries.” Reese sipped at her drink. “It’s just taking longer than I expected. I’m doing everything. Writing, sketching, inking and coloring. Add in self-doubt and after two months, I only have seven pages completed.”