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

by Sky Purington

  Though she tried to hide her distress, Naðr heard it in the slightly higher octave of her voice. “I don’t understand.”

  “Because I’d aided in such an agreement they wanted three souls in return.”

  Megan shook her head as she looked at him.

  Naðr met her eyes. “Four women traveled back in time to Scotland where they found true love and helped Torra defeat evil. But Viking seers didn’t help Torra for ten winters prior without more sacrifice than what my descendants gave. Because I’d enlisted their help they agreed that three souls would be sufficient payment instead of four. Souls from the future that would become Viking and perhaps someday travel to the kingdom of Valhalla and tell Odin that the seers had sent them. The fate of these three souls would rest with me and my brothers until that day came.”

  Megan sat up and matched his frown. “Torra.” Her eyes met his. “Any chance she loved a highlander named Colin MacLeod?”

  That was about the last thing he thought she’d say. “She did.” Naðr narrowed his eyes slightly. “What know you of that?”

  She stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before finally saying, “I have a manuscript back home that touches on a lot of this. Adlin MacLomain is in there as well as four women from the future. Even Meyla.” Her voice grew softer. “And you.”

  He had no idea what to make of what she’d said save Adlin was likely still very much involved. Meddlesome wizard. Yet even with such revelation he was interested in one thing above the rest. “What of me in this manuscript?”

  “You were in it.” Megan offered a small shrug. “Better yet in a tapestry then on and off in Torra’s mind.”

  Restless, he stood and looked out over the bay. “Who created this manuscript?”

  “A woman from the twenty-first century wrote it. The cousin of a friend.” Her voice was hesitant, almost incredulous. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

  Hesitating, he slowly nodded. “Yes. It is.”

  “Yet I didn’t read anything about Valan or how he ended up here but then there were pages missing.”

  Naðr continued to stare out over the sea with heavy thoughts. “It’s not important why he’s here just that he is and won’t be returning to his time.” Then he muttered, “Unfortunately.”

  Megan joined him, her gaze less on the sea and more on the ships. “So you and your brothers each have a tattoo and are apparently obligated to women from another time.” Her voice grew softer. “Is that why Raknar’s been drilling me about my sisters?”

  “Drilling?”

  “Asking.”

  “Likely.” He arched a brow at her. “How many do you have?”

  “Two.”

  “Convenient.”

  Her lips curled down and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You mean to say that a deal was struck with seers that my siblings would be doomed to end up here…stuck in this time?”

  “It was said that three women of the same bloodline would come. It was not said from where or what era.” His eyes slanted toward her. “None have arrived before you.”

  “Assuming I’m even one of them,” she said carefully, frown deepening.

  Naðr didn’t doubt for a moment that she was. “You knew me when you arrived. I know you read about me and found the box. But what of this raven.” He purposefully brushed her arm with his knuckle. “And the desire on your face when you first saw me.”

  Her arms tightened and plumped up her breasts. And while he imagined her reply would be less than truthful it wasn’t.

  “You’re pretty easy on the eyes, Naðr,” she stated bluntly. “But that wasn’t the only reason.” She sighed, her eyes not shying from his in the least. “Around the time I found the box of stones, I began building a boat…a small version of a Viking ship actually.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “You know how to build a boat?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said. “But yes, I have a passion for boat building. Anyways, since I started working on it, not only has the big raven visited but…”

  When her words trailed off, he said, “Go on.”

  “Well, I swear I heard your name on the wind. More so as time passed.”

  “Hmm.” His amused gaze continued to pin her. “Yet you think you are not here for me.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She shook her head. “Something happened beneath the water when I was with the ship. An unusual wave. But I get the impression if I traveled back in time it was because the ship led me here not you.”

  Naðr narrowed his eyes. “What ship?”

  Megan swallowed, emotion in her gaze as she nodded at the harbor. “The one you sailed in on when we first met.”

  He looked from the harbor back to her. “But my ship is not beneath the water, woman.”

  “Not yet,” she murmured.

  Alarm grew. “Explain how you were beneath the water with such a ship to begin with.”

  “I was diving off,” she cleared her throat, “off someone’s boat. In my time we breathe through tanks so that we can stay underwater. The location was a few thousand feet off the coast, not far from my house. At first we only came across Viking weapons. Then, after that strange wave, I came across your ship…on the ocean floor.”

  The idea of his beloved ship sunk didn’t appeal in the least. “You can see as clearly as I that my ship is afloat so you must be mistaken.” But he wasn’t done. “What made you go diving where you did to begin with and who was with you?”

  Though she didn’t show it, he sensed her discomfort.

  “An acquaintance discovered treasure and wanted me to lead his team.”

  She was skirting around the truth. Naðr was about to pull it from her when Raknar’s voice entered his mind.

  “We’ve got problems at the docks. Bring Megan.”

  “Come,” he said under his breath, aggravated by not only their conversation but by lust still unfulfilled. Despite her negative news, the latter hadn’t abated in the least.

  Megan almost seemed relieved that their conversation had halted. And while he thought to keep questioning her on their walk back down he decided the time would be better spent mulling over what she’d shared. He’d question her more later, once he’d had his fill of her beautiful little body.

  Several minutes later, Naðr pulled on his tunic and attached not only his sword but a few daggers. He didn’t miss the unmistakable gleam of desire in Megan’s eyes as she watched him. Let her keep thinking she wasn’t here for him. He knew better. Since the raven had visited her as well, there could be no doubt that the gods had ensured her safe arrival. And he’d be damned if she was meant for his brothers.

  The crowd thickened the closer they got to the docks but all stepped aside to let him and Megan pass. He made a point of taking her elbow and steering her closer to him while he met the interested eyes of many men. They didn’t mistake his silent message.

  She is mine.

  I have claimed her.

  The last of the crowd separated as they approached. Kol, Raknar, and Kjar stood with their arms crossed over their chest eying the oddly dressed filthy men who watched them warily.

  Megan stopped short, eyes round. “Oh, hell.”

  Naðr looked from her to them. “You know those men?”

  But she only shook her head which apparently meant yes as she muttered one word. “Nathan.”

  Chapter Eight

  Megan cringed. This so wasn’t happening.

  But it clearly was.

  Nathan and one of the other divers she’d gone down with were standing at the edge of the dock. While the unknown man eyed Naðr’s brothers and cousin with outright fear, her ex-husband didn’t seem all that threatened. But then she’d never seen him frightened by anything.

  His eyes flew to hers and widened as they approached. “Megan, thank God you’re all right.”

  Then his gaze went to Naðr and she had the pleasure of seeing a flicker of both uncertainty and, oh look at that, fear. She didn’t much blame
him. The Viking king seemed entirely unimpressed. Ferocious almost. For a moment, she almost imagined it was because her name had come from a strange man’s mouth.

  Truly though, what fresh hell was this that her ex was here?

  Naðr sauntered around the men, eyeing them up and down. Eventually, he stopped directly in front of Nathan. Her ex wasn’t a small man at six foot three, but the king had him by a good four or five inches. Not to mention everything else about the Viking was bigger and wider.

  Eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, Naðr’s voice was low and gravely. “How do you know my woman?”

  His woman? Oh Lord.

  When Megan went to step closer, Kol’s hand wrapped around her upper arm and he shook his head.

  But Nathan hadn’t come as far as he had in life by letting other men intimidate him. Eyes just as narrowed as the kings he said, “I was married to her.”

  While she thought for sure Naðr would go all ‘Conan the Barbarian’ on Nathan, he surprised her when he turned his head and eyed her with an irritating smirk. “Is this true?”

  Megan stood up a little straighter, offended. Then again, Nathan wasn’t at his best, especially in a torn wetsuit with his scraggly hair standing up at odd angles. After an unavoidable sigh she took credit for the dirtbag. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Nathan frowned. “You guess?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “Be grateful I said that much.”

  “Bitch,” he said under his breath.

  Naðr’s hand shot out and wrapped around Nathan’s neck in a heartbeat. Her ex’s eyes bulged as he grasped at the king’s forearm. Not fazed in the least, the Viking pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. Nathan tried to nod despite the death grip.

  When Naðr loosened his grasp just enough, Nathan’s eyes went to Megan and he croaked out, “Sorry. Really sorry.”

  Hmm. Maybe she’d enjoy this whole ‘Viking for a boyfriend while time traveling’ thing. Especially if it put Nathan in his place. When at last Naðr released him entirely, her ex held his throat and gasped for air.

  “How are you here?” she asked. “And where are my sisters?”

  Nathan shook his head, a wary eye on Naðr. “Me and Tony washed up on the shore three days ago. Lost the other guy. No sign of Veronica or Amber.”

  She hoped this time travel escapade only included those who had gone beneath the water. Yet Guardian was here.

  “Where are we, Megan,” Nathan asked slowly.

  About to answer, she stopped when her eyes zoned in on what he was holding. The metal cylinder she’d found on the underwater ship! When she tried to step forward, Kol’s grip tightened on her and he again shook his head.

  “Big oaf,” she muttered to him then nodded at the tube while speaking to Naðr. “That belongs to me. I lost it when I was searching for Guardian.”

  Better to say lost than willingly tossed aside.

  Nathan held it back when the king reached for it. Yet the moment Naðr’s eyes narrowed again, her ex reluctantly handed it over. Megan didn’t miss the flicker of vague recognition when the Viking touched the sea treasure.

  Naðr’s eyes went to several men nearby. “They smell. See that they’re bathed then keep guard over them until I return to the holding.”

  “Food and drink?” one asked.

  Naðr’s eyes shot to her and he arched a brow in question. She decided if they starved or not.

  Oh, she really liked this ‘Viking boyfriend’ thing. Though tempted to say no she nodded. While they were dragged off toward the fortress, Naðr made a motion with his head that she follow. It seemed Kol and Raknar would be joining them.

  So while she got to watch them all stride away from the massive longship a few days ago, now she strode alongside them toward it. Or at least she hoped that was where they were heading. The closer they drew to it, the wider her eyes. Black-bellied clouds rolled across a tepid blue sky as heavy drifts of snow white fog curled around the mountains. Though the sail remained down the pure scale of the great ship stood stark against the choppy gray water.

  Naðr strode just ahead of them, his heavy booted gait rumbling over the dock as he closed in on a ship that well-complimented him. This was his element. Where he belonged. When they reached the ship, he climbed the ladder smoothly then stopped on the boat’s edge. Turning, he held down his hand. Speechless, she stared up at him, caught by his imposing stance and the brilliance of his fierce blue eyes as they met hers.

  His long legs adjusted easily to the sway of the boat as his fingers curled slightly. “Come. Let us see if this is the ship you think it is.”

  Eager, she climbed up then gripped his hand. The moment she did it felt like a red hot poker seared the back of her right shoulder. A small cry broke from her lips as he pulled her up then into the ship.

  His brows drew down, troubled eyes on her face. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Megan put a hand over her shoulder and blinked away the water in her eyes. “Pain. Here.”

  Raknar and Kol had just joined them as Naðr brushed aside her hair and lowered the material of her dress.

  “Hel,” Naðr murmured and she cringed as his finger dusted the delicate flesh.

  Megan tried to peer over her shoulder. “What?”

  The burn had sizzled down to a dull sting.

  “The Vegvisir,” Raknar said, surprise in his voice.

  Megan frowned at Naðr. “What’s he talking about?”

  The king touched the bottom part of the interlocked tattoos on his shoulder. “You have been marked with that which is on your stone, the Vegvisir, a magical rune stave that aids in sea navigation.”

  “I know what a Vegvisir is,” she said, frown in place lest the men see how scared she truly was that a tattoo had suddenly appeared on her shoulder. “Why the hell is it there?”

  Kol nodded at the cylinder in Naðr’s hand. “Look.”

  While they seemed almost nonplussed by her new tattoo, what was happening to the tube got more of a reaction. Megan’s mouth fell open as two symbols glowed gold and blue up and down the sphere. Interlocked over and over were the two symbols marking both her and Naðr.

  The same two on either side of her stone.

  The Vegvisirs glowed gold.

  The Spirit Ships, blue.

  “Both are the exact colors of your eyes,” Raknar murmured.

  Naðr’s brilliant blue eyes met hers, his words thick with promise and challenge. “Do you still doubt you are here for me, then?”

  While she could retort that Raknar had blue eyes too, the color glowing wasn’t pale blue in the least but a perfect match to the king’s. Not to mention, she’d felt a certain transcendence the moment their eyes connected…as if the past and future merged in a powerful connection suddenly fluctuating between them.

  Megan didn’t answer Naðr but dragged her eyes to the cylinder when Kol mentioned that it had stopped glowing. And though she was scared about her new tat and the strange object in the king’s hand, her eyes were unavoidably drawn to the ship she stood upon.

  Unable to stop herself, she stepped away from the men and walked to the base of the great dragon prow. Staring up, she smiled, remembering how she had so recently floated down its great wooden neck. Turning her face into the cold wind, she stared down the entirety of the ship and murmured, “God, it’s so incredibly gorgeous.”

  Her eyes went to the wrapped sail. What she wouldn’t do to see it billowing. Better yet, billowing over the open sea. Only after staring in mesmerized adoration for a stretched moment did she realize how quiet the men had grown. When she glanced their way, it was to find all three staring at her with an avid, almost feral appreciation. It seemed Viking men got turned on by a woman who truly loved a boat.

  Naðr’s narrowed eyes slid from his brothers to her before he growled under his breath “mine” and headed her way. Megan leaned back against the base of the prow as he approached. If she wasn’t mistaken, the raw look in his eyes bespoke a man with only one thing o
n his mind.

  And it wasn’t joining her to appreciate his ship.

  Though she made to dart away, she didn’t move nearly fast enough. Naðr might be huge and on a rocking ship, but he was faster than a striking snake when he snatched her wrist and yanked her against him. He didn’t need the prow of the ship to support them but braced his legs and enfolded her in his arms. Sea salt rode the whipping wind as he tilted up her chin and closed his warm lips over hers.

  The same exact feeling she’d had so close to this spot at the bottom of the ocean roared through her. Raging heat ignited beneath her skin as his eager tongue stroked into the needy recesses of her mouth. Moaning, eager, she wrapped her hands into his hair and took him deeper.

  He grabbed her backside and squeezed. Rougher than anything she’d experienced before, Megan didn’t groan in pain but unabashed pleasure. He took her to the edge of something fast, furious and dangerous and she liked it. There was a reckless abandon in the way he plundered and explored her mouth with his lips, tongue and even teeth.

  “Going to share some of that,” Kol drawled from nearby.

  Though Naðr seemingly ignored him, Megan pulled her lips away, thrown off by someone standing so close. The king’s eyes slid to his brother. “Never.”

  Kol’s lips quirked, eyes amused. “Guess I’m just asking to be punched again.”

  Megan frowned at Kol. “Who punched you?”

  Kol just chuckled and nodded at the cylinder in Naðr’s hand. “Plenty of time for you to have your woman, brother. For now, what’s in that.” Then his eyes went to Megan. “And who are Amber and Veronica?”

  “Her sisters.” Raknar leaned against the center mast, eyes intent on Megan. “Yes?”

  Megan untangled from Naðr and offered no answer. Kol and Raknar weren’t going anywhere near her sisters if she had anything to say about it. Especially not Amber. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what her lustful sister would do with or to these men. And Veronica? She’d likely take one less-than-impressed look then stroll in the opposite direction, her infamous stilettos at the ready to whip if either made a move.