Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) (18 page)

No, it had been Matthew.

Instead of focusing on the heaviness in her chest, she continued to seek answers. “I’d like to hear the rest of what happened. Why Aesa and Yrsa were both tattooed on your back. Why they seemed so intense.”

Raknar eyed her for a long moment before he nodded. “Eventually, I was no longer welcomed into Aesa and Naðr’s bed. Though strong from the beginning, their love had grown and they preferred just one another.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“It didn't bother me,” Raknar said. “The love Aesa and I shared did not vanish, just changed.”

Bizarre conversation but she had to admire how open they’d all been with each other. “What happened when Yrsa came on scene?”

“On scene?”

“When she arrived years later.”

“I wanted her.”

“Obviously. You married her.” These Viking men didn’t beat around the bush yet she liked that about them. “But why were both women tattooed on your back? Why did it suddenly change when you had sex with me?”

“So many questions,” he murmured but there was approval in his eyes. “The tattoo was originally just a dragon. My other half, a depiction of the dragon within. It didn’t change until Yrsa left.”

Veronica said nothing but waited as dark memories shadowed his face. “Though Yrsa seemed good when she first arrived, that changed as time went by. She didn’t approve of the love I felt toward her sister even if it was no longer of a passionate nature. But even before she started complaining about it and after we wed, she took multiple lovers. Her spirit was restless, drawn to darkness in ways I didn’t understand.”

“You speak of such a sexually open society here, but you don’t sound all that thrilled she slept around,” she murmured. “Did you as well?”

“Only when she wished it,” he said, eyes haunted. “I wanted with Yrsa what Aesa and Naðr had found but she couldn’t find contentment in it.” His voice lowered and she didn’t miss the barely masked pain. “We all worried about the mental decay, the evil, that seemed to be taking her from us. It was because of this that Aesa and Naðr welcomed her into their bed. Mostly Naðr as Aesa did not participate. They wished to better understand her, perhaps sway her away from the darkness.”

“Holy
shit
,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Did you know your brother was sleeping with your wife?”

“It was but once,” he said, clearly aggravated. “But no, I didn’t learn about it until the next day. The honesty Naðr and I shared in regards to Aesa apparently didn’t apply to Yrsa.”

Talk about a love triangle…times two…or four. She had no idea what to call it. Okay, one word came to mind.

Crazy.

At the very least.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured but figured she better not let the conversation stagnate on Naðr and Yrsa for too long. “So why did she leave? It was obviously pretty dramatic for Heidrek.”

“Despite trying to figure her out, Naðr and Aesa had no luck. The darkness in Yrsa only grew as did the evil magic within. It was almost as if the evil in her dead sister found root within Yrsa.” If clouds passed over his features before, now it was a full-fledged storm as his lips pulled down and his brows drew together harshly. “Heidrek was seven winters old when whatever had festered within Yrsa released. She’d been in contact with King Rennir and saw the glory she craved with him.”

What was up with these seers needing to be with kings? Power hungry she supposed. But she said nothing. Only waited.

“Yrsa had never taken to Heidrek so said nothing to him the day she left.” Raknar scowled. “No more than she bothered to keep what she attempted to do from his watching eyes.”

When Raknar sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, Veronica sat up as well and pulled her knees against her chest.

Legs spread casually; he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the fire, words low. “Before she left, Yrsa attempted seer magic on me that…” he hesitated, troubled. “Was incomparable to anything I’d felt before. She wanted to harness the power of my dragon and take it with her. Only one person could fight her because they shared similar magic. Aesa.”

Raknar continued to stare into the fire. “Caught within the power of the seers, it was that day that I was branded with the remainder of this tattoo.
Helish
pain.” His back rippled as though he felt it even now. “But Aesa won. That is why the tattoo depicted two women struggling and one at last holding the other back. My dragon magic was not taken and Yrsa fled to King Rennir.”

He sighed. “Heidrek witnessed it all and it was no sight for a child. His young eyes watched his father tortured by his mother then her fleeing without a backward glance.”

How traumatic. No wonder Heidrek had developed a stutter. They were lucky that was seemingly the only harm done to the poor boy.

Veronica brushed away an escaped tear and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Raknar said nothing for a long while before he held out his hand. Veronica didn’t know how she knew but sensed he needed her against his back, a soothing balm over old injuries. So she crawled over, leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His arms closed over hers and he hung his head.

Silence stretched as he worked through heavy thoughts. Eventually he murmured, “When you and I came together on Megan’s boat, Aesa’s magic, her love, no longer needed to protect me.”

Veronica rested her cheek against Raknar's shoulder over his interlocking tattoos, the Helm of Awe and Hugin and Munin staves. Even so, her mind was entirely on the massive tat she pressed her body against.

Him.

Her.

Veronica clamped her teeth over her lower lip, hurting for him but needing the final answer. “So Aesa took them away and put me on your back. I’m no seer, not part dragon, not magical in the least. All I am is a twenty-first century woman. So how are you protected now? I don’t get it.”

“Yes you do,” he said, voice gruff, guttural.

Did she? Veronica closed her eyes and lied. “I really don’t.”

Raknar moved so quickly she barely blinked before he turned, pulled her to the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs. Before she could speak, his eyes locked with hers, he put two fingers to her lips and spoke. “There’s no longer any room for another woman on my back or in my heart.” He gently dragged his fingers down. “Not only have my powers grown but now the greatest of loves protect me. One approved of by both the seers and the gods.”

Oh Lord. That sounded serious. Almost too serious. And it scared her. Unable to do anything else, she shook her head and pleaded with her eyes.

“So much fear in a fearless woman,” he whispered, not put off in the least by her denial as his fingers trailed down her neck and chest until his warm hand pressed over her heart. “This is mine and a gift from the gods. One I will forever cherish.” His eyes held hers, his words an effective and perceptive weapon against her defenses. “You will not lose me like you did your son, Veronica.”

She inhaled deeply and though tempted to pull her eyes away, to hide her emotions, she refused to be a coward. Because the truth was she felt considerably better after seeing Matthew’s ghost. Still, that didn’t mean she was willing to set herself up to experience anything close to that kind of pain again.

Thankfully, her words didn’t come out as a wobbly squeak when she told him what he definitely needed to hear. “I’m going home, Raknar.” She shook her head. “And I won’t be returning.”

While she figured he’d have a persuading, clever comeback, he only offered a small nod and wrapped his strong hand around the side of her neck, words compassionate, curious. “You know something of me. Tell me more about yourself, Veronica.”

She braced herself. Please don’t ask me how Matthew died. Yet as his eyes stayed locked with hers, she realized that a part of her wanted him to know. That he wouldn’t judge but comfort her. Still…was she ready to share something so personal? 

He ran his thumb back and forth along her jaw. “How did you learn to fight so well?”

It was obvious he had no intention of seeking out information she wasn’t ready to give. Still, Veronica released a sigh of relief and as if he’d somehow freed her by
not
asking about her son, she blurted, “I was mugged. They stole my car. Matthew was in it.” She knew her eyes pleaded with him for forgiveness like they had Megan’s and Amber’s, even her therapist’s as she whispered, “They got in a car accident. Everyone died. After that, I learned how to defend myself...and to more efficiently defend those around me."

She paused for a long moment, fighting back a wave of emotions.

“It happened in 2007. He had just turned one.” She swallowed hard and whispered. “Matthew would have been around Heidrek’s age if he’d survived.”

Raknar said nothing but held her gaze, eyes as moist as she knew hers were.

When at last he spoke, it was soft, caring, determined. “It was not your fault, Veronica.” He cupped both sides of her neck, thumbs dusting her cheeks. “We can’t control what the gods have in store. And now you know your son is well. That he is safe. That you will see him again. Because love never truly vanishes and souls connected through love always find each other again and again.”

The way he said it, the way he touched her, made her chest burn and she knew the sky-high wall she’d built around her heart was starting to crack at its very foundation. Though tempted to spit out that he couldn’t possibly understand, she’d
seen
Matthew.
He’d
seen Matthew. Wherever he was now, her son’s soul was never far from hers and whatever grief she felt, he did not. It was behind him.

When she said nothing, Raknar stood, lifted her into his arms then laid her on the bed gently as if she might break. Then he came down beside her and pulled a fur over them. He wiped away her silent tears, pulled her head against the crook of his neck and wrapped his arms around her.

And her tears slowly dried.

For the first time in far too long, she felt not tightly restrained misery but…freedom.

Peace.

Like it was the first time they danced together, she felt sweet surrender. What she didn’t realize at the time was that she was beginning to feel not surrender to the guilt she’d carried for so long but a final escape from it.

Forgiveness.

Given
from
herself
to
herself.

Though she knew Matthew would always be in her heart, she at long last closed her eyes to the past and sunk into the warm heat of Raknar’s embrace.

As her eyes slid shut and darkness closed in, the two spirit ravens that visited on Megan’s boat again flew around her. Confused, she spun only to find herself on the end of the dock between Megan and Naðr’s huge longship and the Drekkar ship Raknar had sailed when they first met.

Veronica watched as the ravens twisted in spirals up over her head.

Higher and higher and higher.

Then everything seemed to explode around her.

Harm.

Aimed at her.

Then something landed over her and she ducked, staring up wide-eyed.

Long. Golden.
Huge
. Scales. Wings.

Protective.

“Veronica, wake up. Now.”

Startled, confused, her eyes shot open.

To Megan.

“Come on, Sis. Get up. Yrsa’s here.”

Raknar should have known his former wife would walk into the village without a care in world. Up for hours, he had made sure Veronica was tucked under the furs and safely resting before he left. Restless, unable to sleep, he ended up in the great hall. The sun was just cresting the mountains and a slew of warm colors glittered over the water.

Naðr sat alone at the head table, eyes surprisingly alert as they met Raknar’s.

“Brother,” he grunted and plunked down in a chair across from him. “You’re up early.”

“As are you.”

Mugs and a platter of food were set between them as they eyed one another.

“You know Yrsa is here. Or at least the interactive illusion of her is,” Naðr said at last. Not a question but a statement.

Raknar had dozed off briefly earlier but jolted awake when he felt Yrsa’s essence drawing closer. “Yes.”

“Yet you do not seem concerned.”

“No more than you, brother.”

They again eyed one another before Naðr at last sighed. “I’ve imprisoned her, and she went far too easily at that. Because we both know her illusion is just as dangerous as the woman herself.”

Raknar crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s here because of my tattoo.”

Naðr drank from his mug then chomped on a nut, eyes never leaving Raknar. “She says she comes in peace, but we both know she’s incapable. Do you want Heidrek sent away from here?”

He’d given this a lot of thought since Yrsa first kidnapped Megan and her alliance with the former King Rennir was confirmed. More so when Rennir was defeated and Yrsa took control. While he wanted to protect his son from his evil mother, since Veronica had arrived and he saw renewed strength blossom in Heidrek, he was having second thoughts. It went against not only his Viking but dragon blood to hide his son away. Strength was gained by facing one’s fears no matter the age.

“No. Not yet,” he responded.

Naðr spit out a shell then bit into a piece of bread, contemplating Raknar as he chewed. He was long used to his brother’s way of analyzing others so drank from his mug and waited.

The king at last spoke. “I agree with your decision but…” Naðr cocked his head. “What about Veronica?”

“What about her,” he bit back. “I can defend her.”

Naðr snorted and sat back, by all appearances completely relaxed though Raknar knew otherwise. “We both know Yrsa now leads Rennir’s warriors and her power has grown. She’s only held by us now because she knows she can break free.” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “She’s here because she no longer struggles against Aesa on your back and...” He thrummed his fingers on the table. “Because though she walked away she can’t stand the thought of you loving another.”

“Or you, my king.”

“Don't be petty,” Naðr shot back, sharp eyes meeting his. “The past is behind us.”

“For us…mostly,” Raknar conceded. “But perhaps not for her.”

“Aesa and I did what we thought was best at the time.” Naðr’s eyes narrowed. “Will you not let go of my mistake though it was years ago, brother?”

It was the first time he heard Naðr admit that is
was
a mistake when he and Aesa took Yrsa to their bed. Not because they’d done such a thing but because he wasn’t told about it until after the fact. Raknar crossed his arms over his chest, held his brother’s steady gaze and remained focused on not the harm of the past but that of the future. “What are your plans for Yrsa?”

“We both know at this point it has more to do with her plans and we’ve not acted soon enough,” Naðr fumed, no longer diplomatic but every inch a male dragon as fire burned in his eyes. “We will hear her out.”

“Because we cannot embrace the dragon,” Raknar growled and stood. He kicked away his chair and paced. “It’s as if the seers worked against us all along.”

“Just the one,” Naðr said, eyes never leaving Raknar. “Don’t blame Helga or the Unnamed One. They had nothing to do with this.”

Raknar stopped and looked at his brother. “How do you know?”

“You know as well as I. They are not evil.”

“Helga at least,” Raknar granted. “But what do we really know of the Unnamed One?”

“That she has always remained by Helga’s side and has stayed on that damned mountain and not caused any trouble,” Naðr said, voice slightly raised.

Kol sauntered in, holding his forehead as he peered at them through narrowed eyes. “Loki’s balls, I thought I’d be coming here for peace and quiet.”

Raknar ignored him and continued pacing.

Kol sat on the table and tore into a piece of bread. Between a chomp and a yawn, his tired eyes flickered between his brothers. “You two at it again then?”

Raknar scowled.

Kol snorted. “Don’t give me that look, brother. I’ve spent the eve satisfying every woman who ‘claimed’ to have you at the Thing yesterday. Five at least.” He downed half a mug of mead then wiped his hand across his mouth. “Not that I’m complaining. I take care of my brothers. Just doesn’t give a man a lot of time to rest.”

Well, good to know Kol was having sex again.

Naðr leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head and eyed Kol. “We do for family, yes?”

“To Valhalla and back,” Kol agreed and adjusted himself. “It gets painful after a while though.”

Raknar ground his jaw and frowned.

Naðr shrugged and kept on subject. “Yrsa’s illusion is here. We are at war.”

“Ah,” Kol breathed, not daunted in the least as he lay back on the table and continued to hold his head. “So I suppose that means I'll need a clear mind…at some point.”

“Now versus later,” Raknar muttered, unsettled.

He’d be more aggravated if he didn’t know his youngest brother wasn’t typically at his best after a night of serious romping. As it was with most Vikings, lust and war went hand and hand. In Kol’s case, it always seemed to be more so. No exaggeration, he became Thor’s right-hand-man with pure thunderous sword power as long as he’d lain with enough women. Or just one over and over. It didn’t seem to matter as long as it happened to the point of exhaustion.

So Kol was as ready as he’d ever be.

Kjar issued a noisy yawn as he stretched and joined them, eyes flickering from man to man. “Rumor has it the bitch arrived.” Then the corner of his lips inched up as he popped a nut in his mouth. “Battling then? Sounds like the perfect start to a new day.”

Kol’s brows arched and he grinned around his headache. “Doesn’t it though?”

Frustrated, Raknar ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “She wants the stones and will stop at nothing to get them.” His eyes narrowed on Naðr. “So how do you intend to stop her, brother?”

“You mean how do
we
intend to stop her,” Naðr said.

Raknar considered him and nearly shot back, "With your ships or
our
ships," but held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time for minor aggravations but impregnable unification. “Yes, how do
we
intend to stop her?”

“With help from Helga,” Naðr replied.

Helga? “The seer is actually coming down from her mountain?”

“Perhaps both of them,” Kjar mentioned as he plunked down on the table.

Raknar wasn’t surprised Kjar knew before him. Not only was he a demi-god but Naðr tended to run ideas by him before he told his brothers. While it aggravated him at times, he understood. Kjar typically had insight he and Kol didn’t have…especially without embracing their dragon.

“The Unnamed One?” Kol mumbled. “Now that’ll be something to see.”

“She, not
that
,” Naðr corrected and met Raknar’s eyes. “Megan’s stone is safe. Where are the other two?”

“Around Veronica’s neck.”

Naðr contemplated this then gave Kjar a pointed look. Their cousin grunted, nodded and left.

“I can protect her,” Raknar ground out. Naðr arched his brows. So he grumbled, “At least, I should have been able to.”

“This pact with the seers must be fulfilled.” Naðr shook his head. “If not there’s no telling what will happen.”

“All will be well with Torra MacLomain,” Raknar said. “Her fate is safe because of our promise to the seers.”

Kol groaned and sat up, peering at him warily. “That doesn’t mean we're going to break our vow…right brother?”

Raknar was taken aback that his younger, normally irresponsible brother, was the one questioning him. But he wasn’t so foolish as to not understand the gravity of what he implied. “I have no intention of breaking our vow.” His eyes flickered from one brother to the other, grave. “But I
will
protect Veronica.”

Naðr crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t doubt you will.” He paused, eying Raknar. “But at what cost?”

Raknar held his gaze. “At the same cost you would be capable of if it were Megan’s life at stake.”

“Hel, brother,” Kol mumbled and took a healthy swig from his mug. “That sounds like war above and beyond war.”

A man entered, uncomfortable as his eyes met the King’s. “There seems to be a problem with the prisoner.”

“Of course there is,” Naðr muttered and stood, eyes never leaving Raknar’s though he responded to the other man. “What?”

“She broke free…easily.” He cleared his throat. “And is heading for the shore.”

Naðr’s gaze swept over his brothers before he strode for the door. “Weapons. Now.”

Though they likely wouldn’t do them any good, Raknar and Kol grabbed a variety of weapons off the wall and followed. Yrsa could only be heading in one direction…wherever Veronica and Megan were.
Hel.
They should have kept the women with them. But they all knew there was little they could do without the power of the dragon.

The hour might be early, but rumor of Yrsa’s arrival had spread quickly and many were already clustered near the docks. As they figured he might, Kjar had brought the women down to the Drekkar ship Raknar tended to sail most. The same one on which the shipwright had carved Veronica’s image. Though impossible to know if it could entirely protect her from Yrsa, the carving made the ship a magical safe haven for his woman.

Yrsa took her time sauntering down the dock, hips swaying. They caught up in no time. When they did, she was nearly to the ship and slowly turned, angling herself so that she could confront not only them but the women. The sun had halfway crested the horizon. The waves flickered with orange and gold.

As he thought when he saw Yrsa months prior, the evil within was starting to adversely affect her appearance. Then again, what was once stunning beauty had turned ugly to his eyes when she’d turned on him and left her son. Yrsa’s thick, honey colored hair blew in the wind as she lowered her white fur hood. Her charcoal lined eyes met his.

“My love,” she breathed, her confidence unwavering as a small smile curled her lips.

Raknar didn’t bother responding but hopped into the ship and took up position next to Kjar in front of Megan and Veronica. Soon enough, Kol joined them.

Naðr stayed on the dock. “State your purpose here, woman.”

“Oh, I think you all know my purpose, Dragon King,” she murmured, eyes narrowing on Veronica though she clearly spoke to Raknar. “As always, your impeccable taste for beauty is unwavering.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Yrsa,” he responded. “My taste has vastly improved.”

“Hmm,” she purred as she cocked her head and redirected her words to Veronica. “So now yours is the face that marks my husband’s back. But I wonder,” she pondered. “Will he share you with his brothers or try to keep you all to himself.”

Veronica started to respond, but Yrsa cut her off as her eyes swung over Megan and Naðr before returning. “You really should try out the king.” Then her eyes cut to Kol, her words trying to inflame whoever fed into her taunting. “But then I never did get the chance to ride you, did I? So perhaps I missed out on something.”

“You’re such a rotten bitch,” Megan bit out.

“You’re everything I heard you were,” Veronica agreed.

Though pleased his woman didn’t seem frightened by Yrsa, Raknar frowned at Veronica and shook his head.

“Ah see, there’s the brooding, controlling Raknar I remember.” Yrsa shrugged and shook her head. “He has a mighty cock to be sure but is it worth all the tediousness?”

Veronica might have remained silent this time, but he didn’t miss the way she fingered the hilt of her dagger.

“You won’t be angering any of us Yrsa so why don’t you get the
hel
out of here,” Naðr ground out.

“So you’ve all grown tedious then.” A cunning grin blossomed on Yrsa’s face as she seemed to sense something. “And I have grown far stronger as I’m sure you saw when my storm nearly took down your ships.”

Ah, so Yrsa had been behind the storm intensifying and switching directions when Veronica first arrived.

Suddenly, Raknar’s eyes were drawn to the sea. At first it just seemed like a flicker of sunlight across the water, shadows caught in the curl of waves, before she proved her point.