Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) (19 page)

The sky was darkening and snow fell heavier when she at last broke the silence. “It was a pretty steep climb coming up in daylight with no snow. How will it be going down?”

“We will not be making it back to the holding today. We’ll spend the night on the mountain.”

That made sense she supposed. Hard to imagine where they’d make camp though. Megan nodded and eyed him. His tousled black hair and fur cloak were a startling contrast to the white snow. And when those blue eyes turned her way, it took about everything she had to keep thoughts of last night out of her mind.

But it seemed he’d seen what he was looking for because he stopped short, pulled her close and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. His voice was gruff, noticeably impassioned. “I’m sorry Yrsa managed to get you. I’ve never worried over a woman like I did you today.
Hel
, it was no good.”

He brushed his thumb slowly back and forth over her jaw line, eyes locked on hers. And while some men might say a great many tender things at that moment, Naðr’s idea of romancing her was entirely different. “You will learn how to fight and defend yourself. Then I will know you’re safe when I am not with you.”

“Well, while I’m here I hope to stick around you and your family as much as possible.”

“
While
you are here,” he mumbled but then something shifted in his gaze and he gave a brief nod. “Because you intend to find a way home.”

“Naturally,” she responded, voice guarded and softer than intended. Megan swallowed hard, stunned to realize the idea of going home, of leaving
him
, made her stomach flip and chest tighten. She bit her lower lip. Heck, she’d technically only known him mere days. But her heart apparently didn’t care in the slightest.

While she sensed he wasn’t pleased in the least with her desire to find her way home, he wasn’t the sort to try to convince her otherwise. At least not with words. Instead, his eyes fell to her mouth; intrigued it seemed by her top teeth nibbling at her lower lip. In direct response, she rubbed her lips together, wetting them. Though a purely subconscious action, heat gathered in his gaze. With a low, hungry growl, he cupped her cheeks and closed his mouth over hers.

Holding on for dear life, she wrapped her arms under his cloak and around his waist. Anything to anchor herself within the swiftly rising tide of sensations. There was a new urgency, one she suspected had a lot to do with releasing the pent-up trauma from the day’s events. Already, she matched his aggressiveness and wrapped her tongue around his, twisting and searching in a matched rhythm. Hard, fast, desperate, their mouths explored, searched, and needed more.

“Plenty of time for that once we make camp,” Kol said in passing, humor in his muttered words.

But Naðr took his time ending the kiss, lips warm and thorough. Even as he reluctantly pulled back, his lips brushed over hers several more times. Yet still he cupped her cheeks, his thumbs dusting over the top of her cheekbones as he looked into her eyes. Megan’s breath caught at not only the desire she saw there but the blatant yearning for something else altogether. She realized at that moment that his feelings toward her had grown as quickly as hers had toward him.

When he took her hand and they started walking, she felt considerably less heavy of heart than before. Though snow fell harder, towering trees kept the bulk of it away. Naðr’s expression and demeanor had shifted once more to being a leader as he ordered a few men ahead to scout for any lingering trouble. Honestly, she’d been surprised by the caring, almost gentle man he’d been minutes before. 

Unlike just about everybody else she’d met in life, it seemed that Naðr Véurr was unlikely ever going to be someone she could easily figure out. Sure, she hadn’t known him long but Megan got the impression the king preferred being unpredictable. Anticipating his words and actions was tricky and she expected that wouldn’t change.

And she wouldn’t want it to.

Megan inhaled deeply and shook her head. Why was she thinking as if she’d be staying? Eager to move away from her misconstrued thoughts, she steered into safer waters. Or fairly safe. “So why did Raknar call Yrsa a seer and say she wasn’t actually here? Because she definitely seemed like she was here as we traveled today.”

Interestingly enough, asking questions like this didn’t seem all that far-fetched anymore.

Naðr didn’t answer right away, as if debating what to say. When he did speak, his tone was tepid. “Yrsa is one of five sisters, all of who are seers. All were very beautiful.”

Though it seemed the last thing he wanted to do, he continued. “Born at the peak of our highest mountain range, Galdhøpiggen, the sisters were revered from the moment they first drew breath. But as they grew, three became restless, wanted more. Two, braver than the third, left a few years earlier. One of those two was dark souled. She raised an army and helped Rennir’s brother who was then king.”

“Yrsa?”

“No.” Naðr shook his head, lips wry. “This happened several years ago. And even then, she was not as evil as Yrsa has become. But she was harmful enough that when the gods sent me Adlin MacLomain to help, I welcomed him openly. Even my brothers and I couldn’t fight Yrsa’s sister alone. With Adlin’s help we could.”

Naðr’s eyes grew distant as he remembered something only he could see. “And there can be no doubt that Odin and Freyja favored us as well when we won.”

Though she knew just about everything there was to know about the Norse gods it still seemed strange to hear them talked about so reverently, as though they were right here, right now, listening.

“Adlin MacLomain.” She frowned. “This is the debt you owed him then? Why Meyla left a child behind? The reason Valan Hamilton is here?”

“Partly, yes.” Naðr pulled her hood over her head as they walked. “But Meyla and Valan weren’t connected through the child. Valan is here because of my agreement with the seers.”

“Right. The seers. One you defeated with help from Adlin MacLomain, one was Yrsa. But you said three grew restless and fled the mountain. What happened to the third?”

Naðr said nothing at first, his strong jaw hitched with emotion until he at last said, “Actually, one seer was married to Raknar. I married the other.”

Naðr wanted to broach this topic about as much as he wanted to share a horn of ale with Loki. Yet he’d led the conversation down this path so would see it through. Besides, he wasn’t such a fool that he thought he’d be able to keep this knowledge from Megan. Regardless. It didn’t make the moment chafe his rhetorical ass any less. Some things you just hoped to hel you wouldn’t have to share. But now he had no choice. After all, he’d walked himself right into it.

So as the path thinned and they made their way down through the mountains, he kept talking even though her eyes rounded and lips fell open a fraction. “Though a seer, my wife, Aesa, was wild and restless. She couldn’t live her life on Galdhøpiggen so left the circle of sisters. Strong, a warrior above all others, I loved the woman fiercely.”

Megan nodded, her answer simple and supportive. “I get that.”

She
got
that?

He barely did. Even to this day. Their love, even their desire for one another, had always been a battle. But that was Aesa. Fierce. Consuming. Mostly loyal.

“But which one married Raknar?” Megan didn’t allow him to help her down a gradually slanting rock face but slid until she had sure footing. “Oh wait a second…” her words trailed as she clearly put the pieces together.

Naðr leapt down and caught her around the waist before she so boldly made her way down the next rock face. “I think you already figured that out.”

“Shoot.” She frowned, golden eyes meeting his beneath lowered brows. “Yrsa?” Megan shook her head, disbelieving, lips in a thin line before she ground out, “
She
was married to Raknar?”

Naðr wasn’t about drawing out the moment so nodded and helped her down the next mini decline, muttering, “In another life.”

“Really? Another life?” He was about to respond when she rolled her eyes and quirked her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding. But I guess asking about Raknar having a wife in another life isn’t such an ‘out there’ or crazy question, considering all this, now is it?”

Only because of his dragon blood did he understand her dialect but when she spoke words like this, he was lost. ‘Out there?’ ‘Crazy?’ But Naðr was human enough to follow her meaning. “Yes, they were married.”

“Well, that explains her lusting after him then.”

Naðr flinched and pulled her after him. He could only imagine what Yrsa might have said before he and his brothers arrived.

Megan’s voice grew soft. “Is Yrsa Heidrek’s mother then?”

“Yes.” Naðr frowned. “Raknar’s boy has had the affliction with his speech since her departure.”

“That’s awful,” she whispered. Though it seemed Megan would ask more about it she didn’t, but fell silent, as if lost in thought. Her stoic gaze proof of the pain she felt for Raknar’s son.

“So Yrsa is a seer and wasn’t actually here today. How exactly did she manage that?” Megan asked.

“Through the power of interactive illusion.”

“I see…I guess.” Even as he helped her down a sharper ledge, Megan stayed focused. “I get what happened to three of the sisters. What about the other two who stayed on the mountain?”

When she slid down the ledge, he caught her slim waist in his hands and met her eyes. “They are why you are here.
They
are the seers who I owed a debt for helping Torra MacLomain.”

Megan blinked and frowned. “But what do they
do
up there all by themselves?”

“Besides keeping life very interesting for me, I’d say busy making more bargains with unsuspecting souls.”

“Ah, so I’m interesting, am I?”

Naðr grinned. “More so by the moment.”

He steered her down a side path into a wide clearing of pines completely surrounded by sheer, towering mountain faces. His men were already gathering wood for a fire and several had gone off to hunt.

Megan’s eyes rounded a little as she took in their location. “Wow, it’s gorgeous here.”

“And well-protected.” He put his hand against the small of her back and nodded at the fire being lit. “Go warm yourself while I build a shelter.”

Though trembling from the chill and no doubt shock from all that had happened today, she said, “I don’t mind helping you.”

Naðr leaned close and murmured in her ear. “Go to the fire. Sit. Find some peace after a difficult day.” Then he nipped her earlobe lightly, words heavy with insinuation. “You can help me later this eve.”

Her eyes shot to his.

He winked.

“Of course I’ll help keep you warm,” she murmured and headed toward the fire. “Damn cold out.”

Oh, she’d warm him all right. Naðr pulled skins from his satchel and made quick work of tying them off to a few select trees. Then, drawing on very little dragon magic, he dried the ground on the inside, plumped it up with pine needles then tossed down a few thin blankets before calling Megan over. He pulled her into the tent and handed her a dry dress. “Here. You’re wet and need to change.”

“Thanks.” Her brow swept up when his eyes roamed down her body. “I was under the impression I was going to be warming up by the fire
before
warming up in here.”

“And you will be,” he promised, hauling her close. “For the most part.”

There was something irresistible about her. While he could admit he favored Aesa’s wild streak, his wife had never needed protecting. And, though he might deny it, he realized he rather liked the mix of strength and vulnerability within Megan.

She murmured something incoherent, a tremor rippling through her body, as he yanked away the cloak and enfolded her in his arms. He liked how responsive she was. How her body melted against his as if it recognized its counterpart, as if they’d embraced many, many times before.

While tempted to take her as he had the previous eve, he wouldn’t now. Because whether or not she realized it, Nathan’s death hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Though Naðr had no use for the man and Megan obviously had a rough history with him, she’d lost an old love today. While he didn’t think it would bring her to tears, it was a loss.

So for now, Naðr was determined to make her feel…loved? Or at least more comfortable than he’d made her feel since she’d arrived from the future. That thought in mind, he kept his lust at bay and helped her remove the damp dress. But the gods knew there were all sorts of creative and pleasurable things he wanted to do to her. Things she’d never see coming.

“Do you realize you’re smirking?” she said under her breath as he tossed aside the garment.

“Smirking? Am I?” he replied innocently as he moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

“You are,” she breathed, muscles relaxing bit by bit as her head fell back.

Which gave him a perfect view of her tightened nipples. Naðr bit the inside of his lip, determined to be affectionate rather than seduce. But it was damn hard. Just like his cock. He closed his eyes and focused on easing the tension from her body. He could do this.

It didn’t help in the least when she pressed her backside against him.
Hel
. When her body fluctuated against his, he inhaled sharply, pulled away and grabbed the dry dress.

“Arms up,” he murmured, eyes shooting to hers when she complied, her movements slow and if he didn’t know better, sultry.

“Like this?” Her brows perked and her lips curled up as his gaze dropped to her uplifted breasts. Heaving beneath her unsteady breath, they were a delicious beacon in the smooth sailing waters opening up between them.

Sea Siren to say the least. This one belonged to Freyja.

He met her grin with one of his own before he slid the dress over her head. “Perfect.”

When the material deprived him of all her smooth, taut skin, he pulled free her unruly curls and licked his lips. All he wanted to do was dig his hands into its rich thickness and bite every last inch of skin left available to him.

“You’re surprising me,” she whispered, coy eyes never leaving his face.

“And you’re tempting me,” he countered.

“Tough not to.”

“Is it?”

“You know it is.”

“Good.”

Pleased, he wrapped the fur cloak over her shoulders, brushed his lips across hers then pulled her out of the tent. It was nearly dark and though the snow had lessened some it still fell heavy enough to drift lightly through the thick pine cover overhead. The majority of his men had returned and either sat on logs or stood around the campfire. Hare and squirrel roasted on pits.

“Holy testosterone,” Megan muttered. “Wish Meyla was here.”

Testosterone? But he understood enough her meaning. The opposite gender. Though he sensed she was being truthful about wanting Meyla here, he didn’t think she was bothered in the least by so many men. If anything, he suspected she got along better with men than she did with women.

“So they join us again.” Kol grinned as he tossed Naðr a skin of mead then handed Megan the same. “Who would’ve guessed?”

Naðr gave his brother no response, nodded at his men then drank deeply.

Despite his strong opinions that morn, Kjar, not surprisingly, positioned himself next to Megan. While none of his men would dare go near her since the king had laid claim, his cousin tended to lean toward precaution. Battling and killing made for an extra lusty lot and she was the only woman to be had.

Raknar was especially somber as he sat on a log, skin of mead hanging loosely between his legs as he stared into the fire. Like Naðr, his brother had hoped Yrsa wasn’t involved with Rennir, so today’s revelation cut deep. To see his former wife could be no easy thing and his dark thoughts reflected on his face. Though caught off guard by her actions, Naðr made no move when Megan sat next to Raknar. His brother didn’t seem to notice in the least. Yet she was offering comfort without saying a word.

As he knew would be the case, Raknar remained silent.

So Naðr turned the conversation to the future, no matter how much his brothers wouldn’t want to hear it. “Today was nothing but a ruse, testing our boundaries to see if we’d keep our dragons repressed.”

“And we did,” Kol said, irritated. “Not sure I am willing to do it again, brother.”

“We stayed true to our promise and that will count for something,” Naðr said carefully. “Beyond the dragon within, we’re warring men.” He nodded at many of his warriors with pride. “That alone means much.”

His men nodded, raised their skins, rumbling their approval.

Even Kol knew enough not to press the issue with so many listening, so he grunted and drank. Yet he shared his brother’s distress. It was unnatural to keep the beast within tamed, to only embrace the human half.

“Rennir has the information he needs and will come by ship soon.” Naðr looked at his brothers then to the rest of his men. “When he does, there will be many and it will be war.”

“So we will wait for him ashore,” Kjar said.

“Half of us will.” Naðr looked in the direction of the sea. “The other half will battle on the water.”

This news introduced another rumble of pleasure as men nodded and drank. When too many eyes continued to fall on Megan, Kol plunked down on her other side. If nothing else, he and his brothers protected their own.

Kjar’s expression remained devoid of emotion even as he kept a close eye on both Naðr and Megan. There was much to be said but not here. Not with so many listening. For now it was best that all wind down from the battling and rest. So, knowing Megan was well protected by his kin, Naðr went about visiting with his men. Most were pleased with the death dealt and a battle well fought. But a few had unrest in their eyes even as they grinned.

They’d wanted more raiding before this and now combined with Rennir closing in, discontent grew. What nobody save his brothers and Kjar knew was that the raids had slowed down because of the enemy king himself. Rennir was set on intercepting their raids and fighting to the death. Naðr took good care of his people. They did not lack in wealth. So for now, until he settled things with his enemy, he saw no point in putting them at risk. Not over old grievances that had nothing to do with them.

But greed was greed and he didn’t fault his men for it. They were part of a clan that was amongst the strongest and most fierce in the land. Not only that, like him, they were adventurers and seafaring men. To hunker down, even half of them, at port and wait like cowards for the enemy to come to them went against their very grain. Yes, they wanted their family protected but at heart they likely wondered why they were in a position that their kin needed defending to begin with.

The sun had long set and most of the mead drunk by the time he made his way back to Megan. Meanwhile, she’d made good use of the time and had not only his brothers but Kjar sitting alongside her. While they undoubtedly were there to protect her, all seemed quite content with their mission.

Even Raknar.

While he wasn’t exactly smiling, there was a much-needed light in his eyes as he didn’t chat but watched her. Kjar had a casual grin on his face as he conversed. Kol was downright flirting as he bumped her shoulder and chuckled. And Naðr’s approach didn’t throw him in the least. Shoulder resting comfortably against hers, his youngest brother grinned. “I kept her well entertained for you, brother.”