Viking Warrior Rising

by Asa Maria Bradley

  The smooth bedspread was the exact opposite of how the bed looked that morning. She remembered pillows thrown on the floor, rumpled sheets, and one very sexy Viking slumbering in the middle of it all. She frowned. There had been something different about him. Closing her eyes, she accessed the memories of that morning.

  Leif sleeping. In her bed.

  He’d been on his back with one arm flung over his head, those impressive pectorals highlighted by the morning sun slanting through the window. A trail of dark hair started just below his ribs and narrowed as it grew closer to his navel and the regions hidden under the sheet.

  She swallowed. Concentrate.

  She zoomed back up. Tussled blond hair framed his face. Dark stubble graced a strong chin.

  The arm had been different.

  The tattoo no longer ended by his bicep. Instead the runes spiraled down along a snake’s long body to a pointed tail just below the wrist. The ink had glistened in the morning sun. He must have retouched the body art recently. When had he found the time?

  Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it was well after lunchtime.

  She didn’t want to risk running into Leif in the kitchen. Until she had a handle on these new emotions, she’d avoid one-on-one time with the king. She turned her back on the bed and wiped her mind of the images she’d just reviewed. She dug out a few granola bars from her computer bag. They would have to last until dinner. At least the other warriors would distract her from Leif—and distract him from her.

  She turned one of the plush blue armchairs to face the door and sat down with her laptop. Maybe she’d be able to concentrate with the bed out of sight.

  * * *

  At the dining room table Leif tried to concentrate on what Harald was jabbering on about, but his mind kept drifting to Naya. He’d faked sleep that morning when she’d jumped out of the bed like a spring lamb let out to pasture for the first time. Her reaction shouldn’t irk him.

  He checked the doorway again, forcing his jaw to relax. It was ten minutes past dinner start time. Where was she?

  “Min kung.” Harald raised his voice.

  Leif glared at him.

  His stallare returned the look and lowered his voice. “You need to concentrate and stop thinking about your woman.”

  Leif sighed. He’d hoped to keep the completion of the bond a secret a little longer. His warriors’ reaction to a non-Valkyrie queen were bound to be, if not volatile, then at least spirited. They needed to concentrate on the threat of the wolverines. And he didn’t know how Naya would react to her new role.

  Since he hadn’t explained the details of the bond, she’d probably freak out.

  Harald had caught him leaving her bedroom. Leif had asked for his silence, but it was just a matter of time before everyone would notice him bedding her. He rubbed his arm, covered by a long-sleeved T-shirt. The tattoo tingled and itched. “I’m listening,” he snapped.

  “You haven’t heard a word I said,” Harald shot back.

  Leif dragged his thoughts away from his själsfrände and gave his second-in-command his full attention. The two of them sat on either side of a corner of the large rectangular table, keeping their voices low to allow some privacy despite the regular ruckus from his warriors seated at the table. “I’m sorry.” Leif rubbed his temples. “This bond messes with my mind.”

  “What do you propose we do next?”

  At first Leif thought Harald meant about the bond, but quickly adjusted his mind back to war. “Call everyone to a briefing after dinner. We’ll escalate the timetable for finding where the poison is grown.”

  “Per and Sten are due for patrol tonight.”

  Their standard night shift had two warriors out patrolling alone. They’d considered increasing the number of people on duty, but, so far, two warriors were plenty to take care of the wolverines roving the streets while the other Norse warriors searched for the poison. “Do we need more people on duty?”

  Harald scratched his beard. “We’re watching the fortress walls and the property boundaries extra carefully, but I don’t want to alert the creatures that roam around in the population center that we’re up to something.”

  Leif nodded. “That’s fine. Send Per and Sten out. Everyone else will meet.”

  “Including your queen?” Harald raised his eyebrows.

  Leif paused for a moment. “Including Naya.”

  As if she’d heard them talking about her, his själsfrände appeared in the doorway. She wore jeans, faded and hanging on her hip bones. Her plain white T-shirt draped loosely from her shoulders, covering the delectable curves hiding behind the cotton. She wore no makeup and her usually smooth hair was mussed like she’d rubbed her hands through it too many times.

  Sexy as hell, she stole his breath.

  Mine, the berserker growled.

  Leif agreed.

  Tentatively she took a step into the room, looking around.

  Astrid stood up and hollered for Naya to sit next to her. “Grab a plate.”

  Naya flashed her a tentative smile before serving herself from the side buffet. She threw a quick glance Leif’s way.

  He tried to concentrate on Harald’s description of the search grid, but the details ran together. Instead Leif watched Naya join Astrid at the table.

  He couldn’t look away from her lush lips scraping spaghetti off the fork. Shit, he had it bad.

  “Irja, any progress on finding an antidote for the poison?” His voice was too loud. All discussion around the table ceased and the healer startled.

  Usually he didn’t discuss business at the dinner table, except for with Harald. He wanted his warriors to relax from duty at least once a day. Raising his eyebrows, he encouraged his medical officer to answer the question.

  She put down her fork and cleared her throat. “No, my king. The potions I’ve developed have not been successful.”

  “Keep trying.” He regretted the terse tone.

  Irja nodded and picked up her utensil again.

  Leif glanced at Naya. Through the whole interchange, she’d kept on eating as if the words had nothing to do with her. He sighed inwardly.

  Explaining her new duties as his själsfrände would be harder than hunting winter fox in snow.

  * * *

  An hour after dinner, Leif watched from across his desk as his warriors assembled in front of him in their usual configuration. When Naya entered, Harald hesitated and almost rose out of his chair, which earned him a strange glance from Ulf.

  Tradition dictated that the king’s woman sit closest to the king.

  His stallare looked to him for guidance, and Leif briefly shook his head.

  Naya took a seat next to Torvald on the sofa at the back of the room without so much as a glance Leif’s way. Irja perched on the armrest next to her, both of them deep in conversation.

  He bit back a sigh. Figured that the two most secretive and troublesome women he knew would connect.

  Right then, Astrid bounced into the room and flung her body into the middle seat of the sofa, pushing Torvald farther to the edge. She said something that had all three females laughing out loud.

  Leif’s sigh escaped. Make that three of the most troublesome women he knew.

  As they settled in, he made eye contact with each of his warriors and Naya before speaking. “Let’s begin. Ulf, report.”

  The short-haired Viking sat up straighter. “Naya’s been teaching me more about firewalls and cybersecurity.”

  Leif glanced at his mate, but she was concentrating on Ulf, a small smile playing in the corners of her mouth. A stab of jealousy pierced Leif’s chest.

  His berserker growled, impatient with the other male stealing Naya’s attention.

  Ridiculous.

  There was nothing between Naya and Ulf. Although they did spend a lot of time together in the computer room. He shook his head. “No.”

  Startled, Ulf paused in his report.

  Leif cleared his throat. His warriors and Naya stared at him.
r />   “I’m sorry, carry on.” He waved his hand.

  Ulf nodded. “We’ve beefed up all security measures, and anyone attempting a cyber-attack will be tracked through our software.”

  An appreciative mumble spread through the room. Several of the Vikings turned toward Naya.

  His själsfrände’s face turned a pretty pink.

  Leif turned toward his stallare. “Harald?”

  “We swept the lab and sheds for listening devices. None were found, so at least we know only the main house was breached.”

  Ulf stood again. “I cleaned up the images you took with your phone that night in the alley.” He pointed a remote to the screen on the wall behind Leif. “I think you meant to take pictures of the wolverines.” He scrolled through a couple of images. “Then there’s this.”

  Leif stared at the image of a wolverine with a long tube in his hands. A hazy memory of thinking the monster wanted to engage in staff combat rose to the surface. “What is that?”

  “A blowgun,” Irja said. “That’s how they managed to poison you while keeping their distance.”

  “A blow-what?” Harald blinked, baffled.

  Irja stood, pointing at the screen. “They’re used by indigenous people of the Americas. You force a projectile through the tube using your breath. It shoots out as if through a gun.”

  “Fuck me.” Harald scratched his beard.

  Leif scratched the spot behind his ear where he’d felt a bee sting. “I want everyone to be extra careful when you encounter wolverines. Neutralize this weapon first before engaging in combat.”

  “Just shoot every one of the fuckers,” Harald exclaimed.

  An excited mumble spread through his troops. Leif held up his hand. “Our priority is to find out where they grow the poison, so we need one or two of them alive for interrogation. Continue working on Harald’s search grid.”

  His stallare stood. “Meet me in the game room in ten. I’ll have your weekly patrol schedule ready.”

  The warriors filed out of his office.

  “Naya, could you stay a moment?” He had to project his voice across the room as the slight woman was about to slip out the door.

  She turned reluctantly, but walked to the desk and sat on the edge of the seat Harald had vacated.

  Leif pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve a headache. During the last half hour, the pain had gone from a dull throb to shards of ice penetrating his brain.

  The berserker paced, angry over the male attention Naya had received during the meeting. His warrior spirit also protested the emotional walls she erected between them.

  He felt her pulling away. The mental connection he’d shared with her through the bond weakened each hour. After last night, it should be getting stronger. Something was wrong.

  She was doing something wrong.

  “I want you to move into my room,” he said without looking up.

  A sharp intake of breath announced her protest. He held up a hand to stop her words, but the gesture didn’t work.

  “Not going to happen.” Naya leaned back in the chair, deceptively calm.

  He held his breath, counting to ten. “Look”—he smiled at her and leaned forward—“I want you. You want me. Why not make it easier on both of us and share a bed?”

  “Of all the arrogant asshole-ish statements in this world—I’m not moving in with you.”

  “Why not?” Her physical response last night showed how much she wanted him. Why did she have to make things so difficult?

  “I like my privacy.” She stared straight at him, her eyes turning dark and stormy.

  “You can have privacy in my room.”

  She tossed her head, flicking her hair. “My clients expect me to keep the details of their accounts confidential.”

  “I’m offended you think I’d spy on you. Besides, you don’t need to work now. I can take care of you.”

  She shot off the chair faster than a crossbow’s bolt. “Take care of me?” Hands on hips, she glared at him. One tight bundle of fury.

  Uh-oh. He had never treated Irja or Astrid as anything but equal battle partners, so why was this so difficult for him? Why did he want Naya to obey without questioning him?

  The tattoo on his arm throbbed. “What I meant to say is that we need you full-time here in the fortress. You won’t have time for outside clients.”

  She glared at him. “You can’t afford my full price.”

  He rubbed his arm and tried again. “Fine. Keep your work, but I need to know where you are at all times for your safety and protection. It’s just easier if we share a room.”

  Naya took a deep breath. “Last night was good.”

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. It was great.” She waved a hand in the air. “But just because I slept with you does not mean we are in a relationship or that you can tell me what to do. I can take care of myself.” She raised her chin, daring him to defy her statement.

  “Which I don’t doubt.” He stood and stepped around his desk. He needed to touch her. “I’m not explaining this very well. There are reasons why I need to sleep beside you each night.”

  Suspicion flared in her eyes. “What reasons?”

  Leif sighed. “This is the reason,” he said, pulling up his sleeve to show the completed tattoo. “After last night, we are fully committed. It’s called a själsfrände bond. It’s an ancient Norse tradition. A sign that we are handfasted.”

  Naya quirked an eyebrow. “I see you completed your tattoo, but I’m not getting a matching one and calling myself engaged.”

  This was going to be harder than he thought. “The tattoo completed on its own.” He pulled down his sleeve. “Did you notice anything strange last night?”

  “What do you mean by strange?” From the way she glanced away, he could tell she had experienced the balmy darkness, or at least something like it.

  “After we completed our…joining, I left my body and floated in a peaceful darkness.” He paused to watch her reaction.

  Naya just shrugged, still avoiding his eyes.

  “When I came back to my body, the tattoo completed on its own.”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with me.” She finally looked up. “You can’t just decide that we’re in some sort of relationship without discussing it with me.”

  Leif frowned. “I didn’t decide. It was decided for me—for us. We are destined to be together, whether we want to or not.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but before she had a chance, Harald sprinted into the room. “Sten has been poisoned.”

  Leif dropped his sleeve down. “Where is he?”

  “Per is bringing him in now. Irja is meeting them downstairs.” He ran out the door again, his boots pounding the stairs as he went to join Irja at the front door.

  Leif turned to Naya. “We’ll finish this later.”

  She raised her chin, still defiant, but gestured for him to leave.

  He chased after Harald to see to his youngest warrior.

  * * *

  Naya walked quietly past Sten’s room on the way to her own. The young Viking had been unconscious when they’d brought him in. His partner, Per, had been battered and bruised but managed to avoid the blowgun the wolverines used to shoot Sten.

  She was a few paces past the door when Irja slipped out, a medical bag in her hand.

  “How is he?”

  Deep lines creased the tall Valkyrie’s forehead and her skin was pale. “Only time can tell. I don’t know enough about this poison to say more.”

  Naya took a step forward and grabbed the other woman’s hand. “I’m sure he will be fine. Leif purged the poison.”

  Irja returned her squeeze. “He’s the king.” She dropped Naya’s hand. “Sten is much younger and received a much larger dose.”

  “But aren’t all the Vikings similar?” She tucked her hands in her pockets. “I mean, don’t their bodies work similarly?”

  Irja shook her head. “
Sten has only been in the human realm for a short while. His body is not as well adapted as Leif’s.”

  Naya didn’t know what to say. “I’ll check on him.” She opened the door and slipped inside, not sure if she meant to check on Sten or Leif.

  The blinds were drawn and only one lamp illuminated the room. Sten lay on the bed, a sheen of perspiration covering his face.

  Leif sat in a chair next to him, one hand holding his warrior’s, the other bridging across his forehead, shielding his eyes. He didn’t react until Naya reached the bed.

  Startled, he looked up. “I thought you were Irja.”

  Naya’s heart skipped a beat at the pain in his gaze. She pulled another chair over and sat down next to him.

  “We don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  Naya took his hand in both of hers and rested them in her lap. “He’s strong.”

  “But young.” Leif shook his head. “I can’t lose him. I’ve not lost a warrior yet.”

  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here for him.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sitting here because I don’t want any of the others to see what a mess I am. They rely on me to be strong.” He rubbed his eyes. “I should have put more people on night patrol. This shouldn’t have happened.”

  Naya hadn’t thought about the burdens of being the king. Always a loner, she’d never belonged to a group. In the camp, each soldier had to be self-sufficient, a one-person killing machine. She couldn’t fathom being responsible for a whole group of warriors, no matter how skilled. “I’m envious of how close you are to your warriors. How close they are to each other. You are a family.”

  Leif’s piercing blue eyes bored into hers. Something shifted between them. Breathing became harder, the air too dense. She wanted to run but forced herself to remain in the chair. She let go of his hand.

  He quickly grabbed her hand again. “Don’t.”

  She squirmed. “It’s not my place. I don’t really know Sten.”

  “I need you here.” His eyes darkened. “And I’ve explained about our själsfrände bond. You are one of us.”

  His words warmed distant places in her heart. She leaned back in the chair. “We still have a lot to discuss. I’m not ready for what you’re suggesting.”