Storm of Fury

by Bec McMaster

  He grinned. “Prickly.”

  “I. Am. Not. Prickly.” She glared at him so fiercely, he couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping him. Bryn’s eyes widened. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No!”

  “You are.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just thinking that maybe it’s time we ate. You get a little… murderous when you’re hungry. You’re like this wee little hedgehog that wants to set the world on fire if she doesn’t get fed on time—”

  “Hedgehog? Hedgehog?” Bryn stepped toward him, slamming her hands into his armored midriff. He was actually forced to take a step backward, catching at her forearms for balance.

  “I’ve finally worked out what sweet name I can call you,” he said. “My little hedgehog.”

  “If you call me a hedgehog, I will set your boots on fire.”

  “Better my boots than the world, I guess.”

  She made a sound in her throat that he’d never heard before. Like a captured scream.

  “I swear to the gods that you are the most stubborn, frustrating, infuriating man I have ever met.” She lifted her voice. “I’ll do it, Marduk. I’ll rescue the princess. And I’ll do it alone, because I don’t think of the risks. I’m only mortal, but I act like there’s immortal blood in my veins and nothing will ever hurt me.”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can admit that you like me and you don’t want me to get hurt. The others are gone now, so there are no witnesses. Just you and me. And I won’t tell a soul.”

  He tugged an apple from his pocket and as she opened her mouth to reply, he shoved it in.

  Bryn’s sharp teeth crunched into the apple, her eyes spitting sparks. She tugged it out, but she chewed thoughtfully. “Is this meant to appease me?”

  Tormund winked. “If you married me, I would always see to it that your belly was full.”

  “I think that wouldn’t be the only thing you’d see was full,” she grumbled, crunching the apple.

  His eyes widened. She hadn’t even reacted to the marriage comment.

  “Your bed would always be warm,” he pointed out. “I’d give you head and foot rubs whenever you wanted them. We could spar in the mornings and fuck in the snow when things got a little heated. I’d let you beat me occasionally—”

  “Occasionally?”

  He grinned. “And then I’d spank your bottom when you got that look in your eyes.”

  “Tormund.” She shot him a look filled with murderous promises and shook the half-eaten apple at him. “Don’t ruin your good work. I’ve almost forgiven that hedgehog comment.”

  “That one,” he whispered, leaning close enough to brush a kiss against her lips. “That look.”

  Bryn rolled her eyes to the skies. “Why, Blessed Freyja? Is this part of my punishment? Am I being forced to endure this human out of some misguided lesson in humility? Or—”

  He kissed her harder, capturing the words on her lips.

  And Bryn sighed and kissed him back, slinging her arms around his shoulders. She practically melted against him, her tongue stroking his and her hips tilting into his burgeoning erection.

  It was Tormund who drew back regretfully. “Night is going to fall soon. And while I would love to accept the eloquent offer of your hips, I’d prefer to do it from the warmth of a bedroll. My bare ass doesn’t like snow.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice that marriage comment,” she whispered. “The answer is no. It will always be no.” Pushing away from him, she tossed the apple core to Sýr and collected her bags. “I have my destiny to fulfill.”

  Damn it. His mouth twisted as though he’d tasted something vile. “I will always be there for you, Bryn. But I don’t think your Valkyrie sisters have even graced you with a visit, have they?”

  She spun on her heel. “I am trying to save you from a broken heart.”

  “Is that what you’re afraid of?” He held his arms wide. “A broken heart? Because I’m not afraid to take that risk, Bryn. And if you gave your heart to me, I would move Heaven and Hell to see that I never made a single mark upon it. I would never hurt you, Bryn.”

  Just as she moved to retort, thunder rumbled ominously to the east.

  The pair of them looked in that direction.

  While they’d been arguing, the sun had slunk behind a curtain of gray, and as he watched, lightning flickered in the distance.

  “Yours?” he asked.

  “I don’t control lightning. I’m not dreki,” she said. “I can occasionally hurl it when I am in battle, but it’s the sort of weapon one saves for a crucial moment as it can only be wielded once.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You hurl lightning.”

  She flashed him a smile that was full of teeth. “I told you I might set your boots on fire. I didn’t say how I was going to do it.”

  Hmmm.

  He looked into the oncoming storm. “I have a suggestion. You’re not going to like it.”

  “This sounds like one of Haakon’s plans. He always says that.”

  Tormund sighed and hauled his bedroll over his shoulder as he set off to the right. “There’s a small village about five miles down this road. They’ll shelter us for the night. There’ll be food and wine and somewhere warm to sleep.”

  “You seem very certain of that,” she called after him.

  He glanced back to find her standing in the middle of the road, staring after him somewhat forlornly.

  “I am certain,” he replied. “It’s the village I grew up in. It’s my home, and my aunt and the rest of my cousins live there.”

  Bryn backed away, her hands held in the air. “I don’t think it would be wise to visit your family.”

  “We’re both cold and tired and on foot. Without a dreki prince to fly us, we’re losing ground fast. And that rain will wash away any tracks, which means this storm will put us days behind if we don’t come up with an alternative solution. My aunt has horses. She’ll take us in for the night, feed us, and pack us enough supplies to last for three weeks. Tomorrow we’ll ride out of there with a full belly and a renewed sense of purpose. Ishtar is heading north. She has been for days now. I think she finally knows where she’s going, and I think we’ll find her trail again if we have horses.”

  “Your plan makes a good deal of sense.”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  Bryn took a hesitant step toward him. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap? What haven’t you told me?”

  “I forgot to mention that you’re going to have half a dozen very curious women wanting to know everything about you. I’ve never brought a woman home before. My cousins are going to assume certain things.”

  “I would rather face an entire cohort of Valkyrie in battle.”

  He took her bag from her and slung it over his shoulder. “Truth be told, so would I. You’re not the only one who is going to be submerged with questions. But my aunt’s lamb stew is almost enough to make the sacrifice worth it. Almost.”

  And a part of him wanted to introduce her to his family.

  Twenty-One

  They made the village with barely an hour to spare before true dark.

  Bryn’s belly was twisted in knots as she hesitantly followed Tormund. This was definitely not in the plan. She was supposed to be keeping him at arm’s length and yet at every step, she found herself sucked headlong into the maelstrom that seemed to surround him, hauling her ever closer to the man himself.

  He was already a magnetic force.

  Handsome. Amusing. Loyal. And steadfast.

  Bryn closed her eyes, praying for strength. You’re not for him. Even if he seems like every one of your dreams breathed into life.

  Because she would be nothing more than a weight around his neck.

  And she had to keep reminding herself of that.

  Cows lowed in the valley, and a dog came sniffing around their heels. In the distance iron rang on iron, and a curious woman glanced at them over the sheet she was pulling from a clothesline.
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  It was a scene of such perfect domesticity that Bryn immediately felt her hackles lift.

  What was she doing here?

  This was madness.

  Every inch of her locked tight with tension. It was one thing for Tormund to say his family would want to meet her, another for them to actually realize what sort of woman she was. She’d seen the cool look in Haakon’s eyes whenever he glanced at her of late. That look told her she was not worthy of the man by her side, even though she already knew that.

  Tormund didn’t know how lucky he was to have such good friends and family.

  “That’s Nora,” Tormund told her under his breath, lifting his arm and waving at a face that peered through a window.

  The woman vanished, as if she hadn’t expected to be seen.

  “She’s the eldest and thinks her baby brother, Haakon, is a god made flesh. Whatever you do, do not disparage him. He shits solid gold kroner, according to Nora.” Tormund shifted the weight of his bag. “And Leah is the one hanging washing on the line. You may have faced the boldest of the gods, but if you break my heart she will come after you with a harpoon.”

  Bryn shot him a shocked look. “I’m not going to break your heart. Because you’re not going to give it to me.”

  He shrugged. “I’m just warning you.”

  That wasn’t a no.

  “Tormund,” she growled. “We said this would be just a quest—”

  “It is just a quest.” He smiled at her. “And don’t look now, but the twins, Margit and Mille, have just seen you. Mille is going to want to know all about your sword. All she wants to do is follow in Haakon’s footsteps, but Margit is quiet and bookish. She won’t say much. And then there’s Arne, who’s more interested in farming than in women. He won’t even notice you’re here.”

  “Tormund.”

  “The last cousin is Linnea, but she’s probably out in the fields with the horses still. She’s the only one who won’t question how long you’ve been in love with me for. She’ll want to know if you can ride.”

  “Tormund!” Bryn grabbed his arm. She’d been right. This was a trap.

  “What?”

  “Your family can’t think there’s anything between us.”

  “Why?” He gave her that faint smile that dared her to play with him. “When we part ways, they’ll never see you again. They’ll probably mutter that you were never good enough for me anyway, and then they’ll try and invite me to gatherings where one of their ‘friends’ just happens to be searching for a husband. But you shall never have to see their censure. Why does it bother you?”

  She swallowed. “Because… they’re your family. I don’t want… I….”

  “Yes?”

  She stared at him. She didn’t have the answer for that. He was right. These people would be strangers to her. But they weren’t strangers to him, and despite everything, she didn’t want them to think poorly of her. It was clear that Haakon’s family was desperately important to Tormund, and some foolish little part of her wanted them to like her.

  Tormund waited patiently for her to form the words.

  And for the first time in her life, she couldn’t find the courage. “I don’t… want them to hate me. Afterward.”

  Thought darkened his eyes, but he merely nodded. “As you wish.”

  And then he turned and strode toward the largest house at the end of the lane, his shoulders set and square, like a warrior walking to his doom.

  Before he could even knock, a woman opened the door breathlessly, her graying hair bound back by a red kerchief. Her eyes slid over the pair of them as if looking for someone else, but then she rushed forward and hugged Tormund.

  “Oh, my boy,” she cried, squeezing him so hard he actually grunted. “Where have you been? Where is my son?” She drew back and poked him in the ribs. “You are far too skinny! Who has been feeding you?”

  “Aunt Brunhild.” Tormund dutifully kissed her cheek. “If I’m skinny, it’s because your son is a terrible cook. And he’s had to return to Iceland in a hurry, though if he knew we were coming here he would have wanted to linger.”

  The woman huffed and puffed, circling Tormund and pinching his sides. “Haakon has been running you ragged. I can see it all over you.”

  “He has.” Tormund gave her soulful eyes. “Barely feeds me. Barely lets me sleep. We’ve been off hunting dreki princes, and you know how he gets.”

  “Bah! I thought his new wife would put a stop to such matters.”

  “So did I.”

  He played the poor, beleaguered cousin with such consummate grace Bryn suffered a moment of actual sympathy for Haakon.

  “And who is this?” The woman graced Bryn with a radiant smile. Immediately Bryn could see where Haakon got his gray eyes from, but where his were cool and calculating, his mother’s sparkled with curiosity.

  “This is Bryn,” Tormund said. “My traveling companion.”

  “Travelling companion?”

  It sounded so innocent.

  It sounded like the jaws of a trap about to snap shut.

  “I’m a… another dreki hunter,” she told the woman before Tormund could explain her presence. “Tormund and I are currently working together to track a missing dreki princess who passed through this way yesterday or the day before.”

  “Bryn’s an excellent warrior,” Tormund added.

  “Mmm.” Brunhild gave Tormund an inscrutable look. “You must be hungry. Come in! I will fetch your cousins, and we shall all dine together.”

  “Oh, no.” Tormund held up his hands. “That’s not necessary. The girls will be busy. They have children. Husbands. Homes to tend—”

  “Nonsense.” Brunhild put her hands on her hips. “The pair of you have been gone for so long that we barely remember what you look like. Dragon princess or no dragon princess, you will come inside this house and dine with your family, my boy, or I shall box your ears.”

  “Dreki.” Tormund coughed. “Haakon’s wife will take offense if you call her a dragon.”

  “Tormund.”

  Though a part of Bryn felt a little wary of this entire excursion, she couldn’t help but find herself charmed. Tormund looked like a ten-year-old boy chastised for dragging dirt inside the home.

  “Of course,” Bryn interceded. “We would love to dine with your family. I’m sure they have many questions for Tormund, and with night falling we can’t continue our journey.”

  Brunhild brightened considerably. “Excellent! I shall send word. Come inside. Come inside.”

  “It’s not as though you need to send word.” Tormund glared down the village street. “Nora and Leah are still peering through their windows.”

  “Stop grumbling. And take your boots off.” Brunhild vanished inside the home.

  “Smile,” Bryn told him.

  “Don’t you laugh,” Tormund told Bryn with a scowl as he gestured her inside. “You’re the one who’s going to be subjected to the famous Haraldsson inquisition, and let me assure you, lesser women have trembled.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, big man.”

  “No?” He leaned closer, resting his hand on the small of her back. “Trust me when I say that I would rather face a hundred draugar than Haakon’s curious sisters.”

  Bryn rolled her eyes. “Then you’ve never lived with a hall full of Valkyrie with nothing better to do than polish their swords. There are no secrets in Valhalla.”

  “Polish their swords?” He brightened. “Is that a—”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes and shoved him through the door. “We call that ‘strumming the lute.’”

  Dinner was a raucous affair.

  Each of Haakon’s sisters brought some part of the meal with them, scolding him all the while for such an impromptu gathering, though Tormund could tell they didn’t mean it. Their husbands leaned back in chairs, sipping ale and talking of the weather and crops, and through it all, numerous children ran and giggled.

  Little Kari sat by herself, quietly readin
g her favorite book, and Tormund stopped beside her to greet her with a smile and a few questions about the book. “Hello, my favorite,” he said. “Look at you, you’ve grown an inch.”

  “Hello,” Kari replied, though her finger kept tracing the pretty illustration in the book and she didn’t look up.

  “I bought you a gift,” he said, reaching inside his shirt. “But don’t tell the others. It’s a special gift, just for you.”

  She glanced at the wooden puzzle he’d found in a market some time ago and then looked back to the book. She liked little curiosities and clever little tricks, but he recognized her absorption and merely sat the puzzle to the side where she’d be able to see it once she’d finished her book.

  “If you want, I can bring you some bread?”

  She’d made a little nest in the corner with her favorite blanket, and someone—possibly her mother, Leah—had tucked one of the chairs in front of her, so she had her own little fort.

  “Yes, please.” Kari glanced at the busy dining table the same way he looked at stairs. “And potatoes. I want potatoes.”

  Tormund dutifully complied, before leaving her to her peace.

  It was good to be home.

  “So,” Nora said, handing around slices of bread and butter as Tormund sank into his chair. She settled an emotionless gaze upon Bryn that could have beat Haakon at his best. “How long have you been riding with Tormund?”

  Bryn chewed thoughtfully on her slice of lamb, then swallowed. “Perhaps two weeks now. There was a quest we were both working, and it made sense to complete it together.”

  “Two weeks.” Nora smiled blandly and passed the bread to Leah with a penetrating look.

  Tormund kicked her under the table.

  “You hunt dragons and kraken too?” Leah gave her the sweetest smile.

  “I’m a mercenary,” Bryn told her bluntly. “I beard dragons in their dens and guard caravans of exotic items. I patrol warehouses when I’m paid to do so. I also accompany brides on their way to their prospective husbands. Sometimes I help them escape when the marriages are not to their satisfaction. And occasionally I hunt men who have stolen from villages—or worse.”