by Anne Marsh
He looked over at me. “You gonna get up and get dressed, or are you planning on riding naked?”
He didn’t sound like he had a problem with option B. He also didn’t wait around to see which I would pick but headed straight out the door after his little announcement. Even if we ended up having a long-term relationship, I’d never figure this man out.
My stuff had magically appeared in Colden’s bedroom, so I slid out of our bed and grabbed my things. If we were riding for Nidhug’s lair, I didn’t need to turn into a wolfsicle along the way. That would definitely put a crimp in my bid for freedom. I dressed quickly and then raced ignominiously after Colden, who had just stepped outside.
“How’d you end up a werewolf?” He crunched across the snow, his boots pummeling the icy crust on top of the snowpack. If this was his idea of small talk, it was clear why he was still single.
“You met Erik,” I pointed out. “Do you think he’s the kind of guy who waits around for an engraved invitation?”
Colden nodded. “Got it.”
“Got what?” This man confused the hell out of me.
“I’ll track him down and kill him when we get back.”
I decided to let that one go.
His ride was a cross between a motorcycle and a snowmobile. Shamelessly, I practically creamed my panties imagining the feel of that beast between my legs. It was black and silver, nothing fancy or tricked out, which made it impossible to miss the sheer power of the machine. We were going to fly over the snow.
He straddled the machine and patted the seat behind him. “Get on.”
“I need the magic word,” I said, feeling reckless. “Please.”
He shot me a look I couldn’t interpret. I had a hard time imagining Colden being playful, but apparently I was about to find out firsthand. Sure enough, the slow smile he gave me was pure mischief. Oh. My. God. The man was hot.
“I’ll please you just fine,” he said and patted the seat a second time. I got the feeling that if he had to ask a third, however, that he’d leave without me. I got on.
My legs hugged his lean hips, my hands… well, I wasn’t entirely sure where to put them, but then he gave me a look over his shoulder.
“If you don’t hold on, you fall off,” he said. “You got a problem being close to me, you say so now.”
“And then what?” I was pushing my luck here, but Colden felt different. He felt right.
He looked surprised. “Then you get off. Or I find you a ride of your own.” He shrugged. “But this will be easier if your pack sees us leaving together, and I ride fast. I don’t know if you can keep up.”
He’d let me ride alone. “I’d like to learn. Later,” I said.
“Gotcha.” He patted his abdomen, and I swear you could bounce an entire roll of quarters off the muscles there. Heck, you could probably bounce a million dollars’ worth of quarters because he was worth that and more. “Think you can hang on then?”
“Yeah.” I tightened my grip on his legs and slid my arms around his middle.
He tucked my hands inside his jacket, fussing over me like I might freeze or something. Then he gunned the motor on the snowmobile-motorcycle-whatever-it-was, his gloved hands tightening on the grips with controlled power. The engine roared to life, and I felt the vibrations through every inch of my body.
He sent the snowmobile shooting away from the pack’s lair. Like Lot’s wife, I couldn’t help but look back, but within seconds the entrance was gone, concealed by snow and distance. Vars fell in behind us, following Colden’s lead because I was the only one who knew where we were going. I yelled the first set of coordinates into Colden’s ear, and he pointed our ride in that general direction.
When Leif and Erik had started visiting the dragon in his lair, they certainly hadn’t intended to let me in on the secret. The pack knew they were up to something, but they’d kept the details to themselves. I’d found out accidentally. Erik had forgotten that he’d ordered me not to leave his cave, and I’d had zero interest in drawing his attention. Once he and Leif had started talking, I’d realized that attracting his notice at that point would be a death sentence.
The dragon had some kind of super blade that would kill Odin—like a hot knife through butter, Erik had chortled—and all they had to do was go and get it. I hadn’t understood why the dragon had decided to join Team Werewolf, but I’d paid attention when Erik had secreted away the directions of Nidhug’s lair. I’d committed those directions to memory and then feigned sleep when Erik had returned later.
We live under the radar in so many ways, hiding from the rest of the world. Flying across the snow in the sunlight was a welcome change, and for the first hour, I just enjoyed my ride, feeding the occasional direction into Colden’s ear.
My job was to get us to Nidhug’s. After that, Colden appeared to have a plan of his own, and I was okay with letting him drive. I didn’t have Tyra’s burning need to be the one in charge, but today that seemed okay. I’d contributed. Colden had listened to what I’ve got to say. So it was all good, and I could live with the fact that I’d rather be riding behind him than leading the charge.
I rested my head against his broad back, my thumb rubbing back and forth over his stomach. He was big and solid, and right now, for the first time in a long time and even if we were deliberately seeking out a dragon, I felt safe.
Vars
Eira wasn’t dead.
She wasn’t dying or tortured or even in any significant pain.
Tied up? Abso-fucking-lutely.
As dragon lairs went, Nidhug’s cave was a first. Cathedral ceiling, an interior-decorating scheme focused on stalactites, lots of uncomfortable-looking pointy rocks, and mounds of precious treasure. That part was all standard dragon fare.
The Valkyrie, however, that had been bound between two posts in the center of the cave was eye stopping. All the better to see you, my dear. Black leather straps kept her arms and legs in place. Dark hair, almost black, spilled over one white shoulder and framed the straight, pale sweep of her back. His fair maiden was as cool and as icy as the cave. Maybe it was a Valkyrie thing, but it seemed more like Christmas and he’d just discovered the best present ever waiting to be unwrapped under the tree.
Colden, Bera, and he had arrived at the cave earlier and had waited for sunrise to put their plan into motion. He hadn’t been entirely convinced that Colden’s little werewolf truly knew where Nidhug was—or that Eira was with the dragon—but she’d been right. She’d handed them both a Valkyrie and a dragon. Now it was up to him to find the blade and close the deal.
He examined the woman in the center of the cave again. Just to make sure, you know, that the dragon hadn’t picked up an additional captive over the decades and not because he was really, really enjoying the view.
Pure had explained once that the Valkyries maintained their immortality only so long as they remained virgins. She’d insisted that Vikar take care of that problem for her, because she’d wanted to end Odin’s hold over her. Since Eira wasn’t dead after a hundred years of captivity, the dragon must have left her virgo intacta.
Hel. Vars respected the dragon’s self-control.
Because Eira was naked. One hundred percent, fabulously naked. It was a good thing that Colden and Bera hadn’t come inside the cave, because the werewolf’s eyes would have fallen out of her head.
And speak of the devil—Nidhug strode into view and made straight for his captive. He was in his human form and wore only a pair of loose linen pants that hung low on his lean hips. Dark hair spilled down his bare back and over the intricate tattoos that covered his skin.
Eira ignored him, which had to be hard to do with almost seven feet of pissed-off dragon pressed up against her naked ass.
“Eira.” The dragon’s bellow bounced off the rock walls, loud enough to be heard back at the wolf’s lair. Now Vars knew why the dragon lived underground and not on a mountain like most of his kind. He’d trigger an avalanche with that voice.
�
�What?” She turned her head to look at the dragon, and her face was even better than her ass, heart-shaped and with killer cheekbones. Odin always had preferred them pretty.
“You tried to escape. Again.” The dragon dropped his voice to a growl.
Eira shrugged. “If this still surprises you after a hundred years, then you’re even more stupid than I thought.”
“You know I’ll have to punish you.”
Another shrug. The dragon smacked her ass, his hand leaving a cherry-red mark on her skin.. She went up on tiptoes but didn’t make a sound. The sight alone was enough to make Vars hard. The dragon repeated his chastisement. Once. Twice. The dragon moved closer, his hand disappearing between them. It appeared that Odin was old-fashioned in his definition of virginity—and the dragon had found a backdoor approach to preserving Eira’s immortality while still getting inside her.
Rule number one of playing sex games? Always be in charge. When Vars played those kinds of games, he was always the one in charge. He’d established that rule the day he and the rest of his fellow berserkers had been kidnapped off a battlefield in Africa. Helpless sucked. One minute, he’d held his bloody ax, about to decapitate a particularly sadistic fighter, and the next… nothing. He’d been drugged, bound, and deposited in a fighting ring in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he’d been expected to fight for his new owner’s pleasure.
He’d never be helpless again.
He’d gift wrap the Valkyrie and return her to Odin. In exchange, Odin would leave the Viking berserkers and their new werewolf buddies alone. It was a good deal.
He’d fought on enough battlefields to know that Calder’s new alpha role in the werewolf pack meant all the berserkers would get sucked into the Armageddon battles. All for one, one for all. He wasn’t wearing a fucking hat with a feather, and he was no musketeer (he’d take teeth and a battle ax over those prissy epees any day), but he bought into the creed wholeheartedly. Or, since he was pretty damned certain he didn’t possess a working heart, with everything else he had.
The first explosion rocked the cave. Colden enjoyed a little TNT action, and he’d promised to fire off a series of blasts guaranteed to lure Nidhug out of his cave and into the open. Sure enough, the dragon swore and stepped away from Eira as the aftershock from the first blast died away. When the second blast went off, the dragon strode for the exit, clearly intent on playing Q&A with whomever was exploding his peace and quiet. A few more explosives, a little evasive maneuvering on his snowmobile, and this party would be rocking.
Vars would give the dragon five minutes to clear out, and then he had a Valkyrie to collect.
Eira
The man who strode out of the shadows after Nidhug hotfooted it outside to investigate the explosions currently rocking the cave was huge. Broad shoulders, lean hips, powerful thighs. Hello, complete package. Eira checked out his personal package too, because it wasn’t like she was going anywhere. Nidhug had left her turned on and waiting for his return, the bastard.
Her new companion, however, definitely had the equipment to get the job done. An impressive erection strained against the front of leather pants. Whoever he was, he wasn’t supposed to be here, which made him her new favorite person.
“Are you the barbarian horde?” A gal could hope, plus after a century spent in a cave, she was bored. She’d spent centuries as Odin’s handmaiden, riding the perimeter of battles, armed to the teeth, waiting to escort the fallen to Valhalla. That had been much more interesting than hanging around waiting for a dragon with a taste for kink to figure out a way around Odin’s virginity requirement. The minute he stuck his dick in her pussy, she would give up both her immortality and her cherry, and the dragon only wanted one of the two.
Sucked to be him.
“People who are tied up should be nicer,” the barbarian said cheerfully, pulling out an enormous blade.
“Somebody’s compensating.” She smiled sweetly at the knife, flicking him a glance and—well, well, well… parts of him could indeed get harder. Something he had in common with Nidhug.
Instead of cutting her free, however, he leaned against a post and crossed his arms over his chest. He sure didn’t look like he was worried about Nidhug returning—and no matter how large his blade, that was a fight he couldn’t win.
He winked at her. “We can play show-and-tell if you prefer a firsthand comparison.”
“Give me options,” she demanded.
His eyes flared like he’d never been on the receiving end of a command before. Boo-fucking-hoo.
“I could rescue you,” he said slowly.
“Am I the fair maiden in this scenario?” Because while she could use a man who was handy with a blade, sexual celibacy was off the table.
He grinned. “One of us is naked and clearly a girl.”
And he was clearly an asshole. “Pure sent you to rescue me,” she guessed.
“I was bored. Finding you seemed like it would be amusing. Now? Not so much.”
The irritating man actually turned and sauntered away. She had no idea where he was going—maybe he had raiding and pillaging on his to-do list, right after torment the tied up female—but Nidhug could be back at any moment. The explosions that had rocked the cave seemed to have stopped, and her one chance at escaping was walking away.
“Stop,” she commanded.
He stopped. She’d give him that. “Does that work for you?” he asked pleasantly.
“What?” The man might be good-looking, but he spoke in riddles.
“The commanding-your-minions thing.” He waved a hand and moved closer. “I’ll spell it out for you, sweetheart. You’re. Not. In. Charge.”
“And I suppose you think you are,” she scoffed. Hello. She’d survived one hundred years in a cave with a horny dragon who wouldn’t finish the job he’d started. She was bored, she was turned on, and she planned to do something about it.
“What I am is tempted to finish what the dragon started.” One hard, strong palm descended on her butt, landing with an audible crack.
“Hands. Off.” Get her untied and alone with him, and she’d be putting her hands all over him. Until then, all she had was her dignity—or what was left of it.
“Say please.”
He could rot in hel.
“I’ve spent one hundred years as the dragon’s pet, Viking.”
One hundred years of waiting and wanting and yearning for something her dragon either couldn’t or wouldn’t give her. Nidhug was a snarly, loathsome, sexy beast, but she wasn’t sure her barbarian was much of an improvement. He enjoyed ordering her around even more than Odin had, but she was done taking orders. She wanted freedom. Sexual, personal, financial… she’d take it all, but first she had to make sure she could never, ever be forced back to Valhalla. A quick five-minute fuck with the barbarian’s lovely penis would take care of that in-bondage-to-Odin impediment.
He tapped the blade against the palm of his hand. “Do you hear Nidhug returning? Because I’m pretty sure I hear wings.”
He made a good point. Damn it. Inhaling, she forced the word out. “Please. Put out or shut up. No. Wait.” She thrust her fingers into his hair. “I’ll take both. Sex and silence.”
This time, they both heard the heavy beat of wings. Nidhug really was back. Her barbarian groaned. “And I’ll take a rain check.”
Colden
Nidhug was tight on our trail, but my snowmobile could fucking fly and I’d never felt so alive. I zigzagged across the snow, opening the throttle up and driving hard over the moguls. The snowmobile caught air and Bera tightened her grasp on me. No way I’d let her fall off, although I liked the way she hung on. Her fingers brushed my belt buckle, and my dick sprang to life. Bad timing there.
Vars and I had planned out my route last night. Since our primary objective was to spring Eira and nick the knife Nidhug planned to use to slit Odin’s throat, Bera and I had one job. We needed to create a diversion and then get away. Vars and I would come back with more of our brothers, and then we�
��d take down the dragon.
The chase was fun though, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
“You’re crazy,” my mate shrieked in my ear. Nidhug was catching up, filling the mirror on my handlebar with his ugly puss. We were lucky he couldn’t breathe fire, although his fangs weren’t just for show. Bera whimpered something that sounded like sweetbabyjesusohmygodhelp.
Apparently, she doubted my skills.
I picked up speed. “Till death do us part, sweetheart.”
It’s not like we were rocketing down a groomed trail, so I wasn’t sure what she expected. The snow blew and drifted, and it was cold despite the sunshine. This left us bumping over an icy obstacle course while Nidhug had smooth sailing in the skies. Faster was better in our case. Fuck, it was downright essential if we didn’t want to become dragon road kill.
“Head down. Get ready,” I ordered, aiming the snowmobile toward the base of a small hill. Vars and I had mapped the course out last night while Bera had loped alongside us in wolf form. A little decoy digging and we’d built a wall of snow and ice in front of the entrance to a deep crevasse. Nidhug was too big to follow, plus the one crevasse lead to another. We wouldn’t be where he’d left us if and when he doubled back.
As soon as I felt Bera tuck her head into my back, I gunned the motor, hit the lights, and ran us straight into the “wall.” Snow and ice exploded around us as the dragon thundered past overhead.
Mission. Accomplished.
I was big enough to block the spray from hitting her, and seconds later I was guiding the bike down a snowy ramp and through a twisting series of narrow tunnels. Bera kept her hands glued to my midsection like white on rice. She was a good sport. Just to be careful and not because I really liked the feel of her, I hooked an arm behind me, because having her fly off now would suck. I wanted us both in one piece and on the ground.
