His father had been on his deathbed, yet Bjorn couldn’t be bothered to go to his side. His mother had been heartbroken and ill, yet still no Bjorn. He’d been nothing less than a coward.
Tequila bottle still in hand, she stomped outside, crossed the wide deck and headed his way. “What are you doing here?” she shouted and flung out her hand. “Go away!”
Bjorn said nothing, just remained stoic as usual.
“Damn you,” she muttered and ignored the blinding pain of her tattoo. “Go away!”
Furious with his lack of response she kept going, barely noticing that the Gungnir grew brighter and brighter. All she could see was Bjorn.
The hard set to his chin.
The unbending look in his eyes.
Then she saw something else altogether. Something out of her worst nightmare. A vision she couldn’t escape. Cybil was being taken, hurt and there was no chance to save her. Screw that. Sam didn’t think but raced forward.
Only when it was too late did she realize she’d run right into a trap.
Chapter Two
Scandinavia
906 A.D.
SAMANTHA WINCED AS she was unwillingly sucked into absolutely nothing.
Darkness.
Her ears popped, and she tried to keep her footing as the air thickened around her. She knew this feeling.
Time travel.
She grunted when it felt like a Semi hit her and she was flung into the air. Her stomach slammed down on a strong shoulder, and then she was moving. Or should she say he? Because she knew exactly who he was.
“Bjorn!” she tried to screech and pounded on his back, but nothing came out. For all intents and purposes, she was mute. What the hell?
Again and again, she called out his name, but nothing happened. He was running, and she was apparently on his train to nowhere. When he eventually slowed, she tried to speak again. Thankfully her vocal chords worked this time. “What’s going on? Put me down!”
“Gladly,” he rumbled and plunked her down so hard, her teeth rattled.
Damn him.
She tried to get her footing in the dark echoing place but stumbled back, not grateful in the least when his hand met her back, and his irritated voice came close to her ear. “Say nothing woman or our enemy will have a dagger to your back.”
“What enemy?” she half whispered, half seethed. “The evil dragon or you?”
“Shh,” he said.
Sam didn’t need to see a thing to know he was about to wrap a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet so she whacked it away and turned…only to meet a hard wall of muscle. He smelled of spicy musk and a compelling scent from her childhood that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Marshmallows roasting over a fire maybe. Or something better. Sweet. She licked her lips and tried to chase the memory. The scrumptious scent.
“Loki’s balls, put your dragon away, woman,” he growled close to her ear.
Her dragon? Huh?
She tried to stop sniffing him, but it was tough. She was hungry. So despite her anger and the potential horror show she’d been thrust into, she pressed closer, curled her fingers into his tunic and inhaled deeply. Shit, he was ridiculously tall at what she guessed was around six foot seven. But that didn’t intimidate her in the least.
“Stop,” he hissed and tried to bat away her wandering hands. “You are my prisoner. Remember that.”
Prisoner? Why? But she really couldn’t care less as she began exploring him, eager to understand why she was so drawn to him. While she had no use for the man himself, there was something to be said for his body. So hard. Strong. She ran her hands up beneath his shirt, all but purring as she felt the rigid muscles of his abdomen.
Then she felt something else against her stomach and groaned with need.
Groaned!
What the heck had come over her? She shuddered with an unexpected thrill as her hands wandered further. Oh, he felt good. So good.
“No,” he said softly but angrily as he wrapped his arms around her and mushed her against him. “Stop moving. Stay still.”
“Tell this to stay still then,” she slurred, her face pressed against his chest, her hand still able to move enough that she could pat the side of his impressive erection. “Mighty beast you have there.”
Sam only registered what she actually said before the air shifted and darkness fell away. Bjorn stepped back, held her at arm’s length and shook his head. “No.”
She blinked several times and tried to adjust to the light.
“No,” he repeated.
“No to what?” Sam yanked away, grateful she could finally see him more clearly. Arms crossed over his chest, he wore a stern look. She sighed, both frustrated and embarrassed she’d come on to him like that. “Get over yourself already. I only said that because I...I needed to soften you up so I could make a break for it.” She smirked and gestured at his happy crotch, not sure what else to do. “It’s not my fault I didn’t soften you in the least.”
She spun and took in their surroundings. They weren’t at the Viking Fortress. They weren’t anywhere she recognized in tenth-century Scandinavia. Not that she had all that much to go off of.
Wherever they were it was a cold and endless forest. Desolate. Lonely.
“Where are we, Bjorn?” She spun back on him. “How did you get me here?” Sam shook her head, madder by the moment. “Why did you take me away from your mom? She needed me.”
He offered no direct answer. “You should not be there but here. This is where you need to be.”
“Where I need to be?” She looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
He was about to respond, but it was too late. Whatever she thought she saw, including Bjorn, melted away. Simply ceased to exist. The world swirled into a mix of colors before everything became crystal clear. She lay on her back staring up at towering trees. Though tempted to panic, she remained perfectly still.
“There, there,” came a soft, sweet feminine twitter before a slight woman who looked more fairylike than human, knelt beside her and gazed down lovingly. “All is well now, child. You have arrived safely.”
Confused, Sam shook her head.
“See.” The dark haired, overly slender woman cupped something white and soft in her hand then held it to Sam’s nose. “You recognize this scent, yes?”
Sam sniffed. Marshmallow. Then something spicy sweet. Just like how Bjorn smelled. More alarmed by the moment, she said, “Where’s Bjorn?” She took in her surroundings. The trees faded away. Now nothing but green existed far and wide. Dark, light, sage, pale….all shades of green.
“He’s here, he’s here,” the woman whispered over and over again. “He never goes away, Bjorn, he never goes.”
Sam tried to sit up only to find herself immobile.
“Like being caught against his chest, is it not?” the woman whispered. “Because she likes being against him, does she not?” she tittered in response to her own words.
If Sam hadn’t spent half her life dealing with the oddities of her own body, the dragon, then traveling back and forth through time, she might have checked out by this point. Lost her mind. But no. Life had been too strange since she was a kid to go looney now.
So though frightened she simply went with her strange new reality and tested her limbs. Everything seemed intact. She could finally move. “Who are you again?”
As if stung, the woman jolted, froze and peered at Sam. “Nobody has ever asked me that.”
“Well, they should,” Sam replied.
“Yes.” The woman moved closer, studying her as though she were under a microscope. “They should.”
Samantha tilted her face so the woman could peer at her more closely. All the while she drummed up questions in her mind. Questions that would keep an open line of communication and make Sam more likable. That way, hopefully, the crazy woman would think twice before hurting her. It wasn’t all that different than coaching couples to play nice so that their divorces were more amicable.
“I am very interested in who you are,” Samantha said. “Because I care.”
People could say what they would, but Sam didn’t just specialize in helping people deal with breaking up in a healthier way, but she worked to prevent the split to begin with. It was the least she could do considering she’d failed at it herself…miserably.
The woman’s dull gray eyes narrowed on her before widening. “You really do care, don’t you? Good!” She clapped and smiled with glee. “Then let us talk about men and all their mistakes.”
Sam sat up slowly and nodded. She might be scared, but she was a pro on this subject. “Now that’s something I know a little bit about.”
“Good.” The woman plunked down in front of her, crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward. “Now tell me, did man come first or the mistake? Because I’ve often wondered. It seems to me that a mistake must have happened to make man. Then at other times I figure man came first and just did what he does best…” Her eyes rounded. “Made a mistake.” She shook her head. “But was he to blame considering mistake invited him?” She kept shaking her head. “There’s a very good chance that mistake came first, and man had no choice but to accept it. Over and over. Like a never ending cycle?” She chuckled, quite pleased with her ridiculous observations.
Sam’s mouth opened then snapped shut. When she envisioned this conversation it had nothing to do with the rhetorical, what came first chicken or egg chit chat. But then her surroundings were completely green, and by all accounts, this woman was more than a few cards shy of a full deck.
So all bets were off. And when that happened, Sam did one thing. She played right into it. “I say men are born to make mistakes. That’s what they’ve always done, and what they’ll always do.” She shrugged. “Women, however? That’s a different story.”
“Women?” the stranger responded sharply and patted her chest. “Like me?” She inhaled deeply and started looking around with worry before she started breathing rapidly. “What did I do now? I did not do anything. Nothing. I swear. They all lie!”
When Sam started to respond, the woman screeched, “Nothing!” and threw dust in Samantha’s face.
The sting was so sharp she thumped onto her back. She tried to speak, make a sound, but nothing came out. She felt like she was dying, changing, being reborn, as pain poured through her in waves. Memories flooded her. Infancy, childhood then her teenage years. She felt the way her body grew and changed. The word “morphed” kept whispering through her mind.
Transition.
Then all went utterly silent.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes and drifted. She no longer cared where she was. No fight existed in her. All was peaceful as the trees grew closer. As the ground swallowed her.
“Samantha,” someone said softly and cradled her head. “Can you hear me?”
“I can,” she tried to answer, but nothing came out.
“You said she would be all right,” came a deep, familiar voice. “Is she then?”
“Yes, just give her time.” It was the same feminine voice from before, yet it sounded different. Less loopy.
Samantha blinked several times and tried to see clearly. Her mouth felt bone dry. Like she had swallowed ashes. So she was grateful when something touched the edge of her mouth, and cool water slid down her throat. When it burned, she started coughing.
“She does not seem all right,” the man grumbled.
“I told you it would not be a smooth transition,” the woman said.
Samantha’s vision cleared in time to see green dwindle down into pinpoints within the insane woman’s eyes then vanish altogether. She was still in the woods except now a small fire burned nearby. The nutty lady seemed perfectly normal as she urged Sam to drink more.
“Hello, Samantha, I’m Näv, first born daughter of Kjar and Aella,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “My apologies for the uncomfortable time travel.”
Sam rubbed her face and sat up. Her eyes met Bjorn’s across the fire before she frowned and looked at Näv again. “All of that was pretty damn weird. How much of it actually happened?”
Bjorn grunted and continued skinning what looked to be a rabbit.
“All of it happened,” Näv said. “I used Bjorn to lure you then had to allow you inside my mind to get you all the way here. My apologies for the corner I stuck you in. It is where I put the side of myself and my sisters that isn’t quite in touch with reality.”
“Inside your mind?” Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re yanking my chain right?”
Bjorn’s scowl deepened as his eyes slid her way. “What chain?”
Sam shot him a flat look and shook her head. “Don’t be a wiseass.”
His look of confusion only deepened. Lord, he really was ridiculously handsome, wasn’t he? Beard and all. Those high cheekbones, straight nose, and deep-set cobalt blue eyes. He wore a long-sleeved black leather jerkin, leather pants, and heavy boots. A black fur stretched over his broad shoulders.
“Fine. Look confused, Bjorn,” Sam huffed, ignoring her heated skin. “Welcome to my world.” Her eyes narrowed on him then their surroundings. “Where am I and why am I here?” She shook her head and matched his frown. “I need to be with your mom and God knows I need to protect everyone from your psychotic sister.”
“Ah, Svala,” Näv murmured, a small grin on her face when she looked at Bjorn. “It’s hard to imagine her in the twenty-first century, is it not?”
“It’s hard to imagine her anywhere free of strife lately,” Bjorn grumbled.
“Which makes me all the more curious why you yanked me back in time,” Sam said. “Because whoever your sister’s around needs to be protected.”
“My mother is with her.” Bjorn seasoned the rabbit and put it on a spit. “She will keep her out of trouble.”
Though tempted to tell him he had his head up his ass, Sam bit her tongue before she shared his mother’s current condition. She might not be crazy about the guy but now wasn’t the time to spit that in his face. Not when she was running so emotional.
“Enough about Svala,” Sam said. “Tell me what’s going on?” She glanced around again. “Where’s Cybil?”
“She is at the Viking Fortress,” Bjorn said as Näv handed Sam a pouch that turned out to have mead in it.
“Okay…” Sam took a few swigs. “So where are we? Heading that way?”
“No,” he said. “We are a day’s walk north of the Dragon Lair.”
She had heard of that place. Apparently, it was where the Sigdir family went when they wanted to spend time in dragon form. “So have you been there? Is King Naðr’s daughter, Meyla okay?” Sam almost didn’t want to ask. “Is she alive?” She swallowed hard and asked an even harder question. “Is Naðr still alive?”
According to the enemy, the rival dragon had eaten Meyla who was only human. That’s what enraged the King to battle with the beast which had nearly cost him his life. Yet last she knew there had been no communication from the Dragon Lair. No confirmation.
“My father is no longer king,” Bjorn said softly. “Please address him correctly.”
“Come again?” Sam’s eyebrows flew together. “Is that seriously what you’re worried about right now, Bjorn? A title or lack thereof?”
“I will give you two some time alone,” Näv said softly, clearly sensing a battle on the horizon.
“You will stay, Cousin,” Bjorn said. “Samantha will need answers I cannot give her.”
“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” Sam snapped, less concerned about his state of mind by the minute. “I think you’ve got plenty of answers, and I wanna hear them. Let’s start with why I’m here.”
When Bjorn’s eyes narrowed on her, she narrowed hers right back and said, “Now,” through clenched teeth. Heat flared even hotter beneath her skin.
Samantha didn’t miss the fire that flared in his eyes and wasn’t surprised to see red skirt her vision. So her dragon was getting pissed off. No big surprise there.
Then he turned and started walking away.
Say what?
“Excuse me?” Sam leapt to her feet and strode after him. “I have every right to be a little emotional considering you took me against my will.”
“I will explain things when you’re of a more level nature,” he replied, not slowing in the least.
“Level nature?” Her anger only grew. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll show you just how unleveled my nature can get.”
She frowned at her own words as she tried to keep up with him in the thickening foliage. The man knew how to move through woodland.
“I’m starting to get a good idea about your unlevel nature,” he muttered and stopped short when he realized she wasn’t going to stop following him.
Sam froze when she ran into his back.
He froze too and inhaled sharply.
That’s when it occurred to her how aroused she was. Like severe-ache-between-her-thighs aroused. Well, what the hell? Her mind and body evidently had different opinions about the man.
“No.” Downright growling under his breath, Bjorn grabbed her upper arm and led her back toward the fire. “You need to control your dragon, woman.”
“Me?” She tried to pull away, but he wasn’t having it. “I seem to remember you being pretty damn happy to see me when you brought me here to begin with.”
“I am male. You are female. Lust is natural.” He plunked her down on the ground in front of the fire. “But there will be no mating between us so learn to control your beast.”
“You really are a complete jackass, aren’t you?” She shook her head and looked around for Näv to confirm her assessment, but the woman was nowhere to be found. So she took a few more chugs of mead.
Bjorn didn’t feed into her insult but rotated the rabbit, muttered something negative about Näv leaving, then at long last, started giving her answers. “My father remains in an unnatural slumber, and there has been no connection with the Dragon Lair so I do not know if my sister lives.”
Vengeance of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 2) Page 3
