“What about…” Bjorn cleared his throat and kept his voice clinical. “What about what else you were feeling?”
She couldn’t help herself. “To what are you referring?”
When he shifted, uncomfortable and still sporting a hell of an erection, her eyes dropped to his groin. “Is everything okay, Bjorn?”
He clenched his jaw and watched her closely. “Are you still aroused, woman?”
“A little.” A lot. Her eyes met his. “But it’s fading fast.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I can smell it.”
“So can I,” Tait added before Bjorn shot him a look.
“Not sure what to tell you.” She shrugged. “I was turned on. Now? Not so much.”
That seemed like a logical enough answer because it was sort of true. Maybe. Not really. She was still turned on. If Bjorn ordered her to strip him down, she might just do it. But he wouldn’t. And she shouldn’t. So instead she weighed out exactly how she should play things with him to make this whole she-was-obeying-him thing seem like it was working. To her way of thinking, she should listen to him but still remain who she was. Otherwise, wouldn’t it seem a little fishy? She didn’t get the impression she was supposed to be zombie-like. And she definitely got the impression he had no idea how she should be acting in general.
So onward and upward.
And regrettably, that meant redirecting the conversation to what had happened to her before drinking dragon juice passion or whatever it was.
“What happened?” She frowned and put some distance between her and the men. “Why did I wake up feeling that way? Like someone else was in my head?” There was no faking the goosebumps that rose on her arms at the slimy memory. Now that she wasn’t so busy worrying about Bjorn and how to play him, reality was setting in. “Did…” Sam ran her tongue over her teeth and flinched at the taste. Everything about her felt sour. Used. Instead of panicking at what she suspected happened, she put her hands on her hips, grounded herself and met their eyes. “Did that evil bastard dragon get inside my head?”
“No,” Tait said as Bjorn stated, “Yes.”
Her eyes flickered between them. There was nothing but compassion in Tait’s eyes and the cold, hard truth in Bjorn’s.
Sam swallowed, stayed brave and said, “Is there a chance he’s still in my head? That he can hear me right now?”
“Doubtful,” Tait said as Bjorn confirmed, “Likely.”
“Okay,” Sam whispered and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead as she tried to think and not panic. She put a hand up and murmured, “No. I got this,” when Tait started forward.
Bjorn remained perfectly still and watched her like a hawk.
Or like a master waiting to see what his slave would do next.
The truth was she was heading back toward normal. The pain was gone. So was the lust. Now if she could just get rid of this I-just-got-raped-mentally feeling, there might be hope. Until then, she refused to dwell on what if’s. She refused to do it after her ex broke her heart and she had to start a life on her own.
So she certainly wouldn’t do it now.
When all else failed, logic was her fall-back so she met Bjorn’s eyes. “I think it’s best to assume he got inside my head and is still listening, don’t you?”
She didn’t miss the flicker of pride in his voice at her response and cursed the twinge of happiness it gave her.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is safe to assume he’s trying to lure us back to the Dragon Lair.”
“Right,” she said, already having made up her mind. “So you should know that’s exactly where I intend to go.”
Bjorn shook his head. “I forbid it.”
“Okay,” she murmured, grinding her teeth against a man forbidding her to do anything but still, she was determined to play this right. So she turned away and softened her voice. “But you should know he was telling the truth.” She didn’t have to pretend to sound genuine. “He’s got someone you care about.” Her eyes went between them. “Someone young…a teenager.”
She closed her eyes, chasing the remnants of the warning…the memory, before her eyes shot open and she looked at Tait. “You are her best friend on Midgard…or Earth.”
Tait’s expression went from flirtatious to indescribable. Ashen. Like he saw his worst nightmare manifest. “Not…”
Before he could finish, a word slammed into her mind and tumbled out of her mouth. “Runa.”
“Cousin, no.” Bjorn tried to grab Tait, but it was too late.
He was gone.
And he could move far faster as a dragon.
Bjorn muttered a stream of curses as he gathered up their things, flung a fur around her shoulders, and lit a torch.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
Sam nodded. This wasn’t about her personal agenda. Not in the least. This was bad. Heartbreaking. The enemy was brutal and should be nowhere near a young, vulnerable girl. Though exhausted from whatever had possessed her, Sam found energy in worry. She might not know them well, but she already liked the Sigdir’s. Some of them—Bjorn—might be overbearing, but she sensed they were good people. Honorable in a way she was unfamiliar with beside her sister, Cybil. And maybe her dad.
“Where are we going?” she said, wrapping the fur tighter against the chill as she followed him. The caverns only seemed to be getting smaller and narrower.
“Down,” he said.
“All right, man-of-many-words.” She might feel for him and his family right now, but that wouldn’t stop her from being her. That sort of thing was impossible. And he had drugged her. She hadn’t forgotten that.
Bjorn said nothing more but some time later showed her the courtesy of helping her down the last steep embankment to the oceanfront. If that’s what you wanted to call it. More like a swath of sand that managed to swipe into the cave. Her eyes went to the rowboat he was untying.
“Um,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Preparing to travel.” He waded through the water until he pushed the boat up alongside her. “Get in.”
“Have you flipped a switch?” she said, shaking her head.
When he looked at her in confusion, she tapped her temple. “Up here?” She frowned. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Get in, woman.”
Sam was about to bite back for him to go blow but remembered she had a mission. And, despite Mr. Ever-the-Jackass’s behavior, she still felt compassionate toward what he and his family were going through.
So she got in.
Good thing she had spent plenty of time boating on Lake Champlain as a kid or she might be up a creek without a paddle. Or in this case, in the daunting Norwegian sea. Bjorn handed her two paddles before he sat on the bench in front of her and began explaining how to use them.
“I know how to use paddles,” she interjected.
“Good.” He said as he pushed off, then stroked his paddles so hard they leapt forward. “Then use them.”
“Yes, sir,” she mouthed, sticking her tongue out at his back as she dug her oars in and met his pace. Or at least tried. The man was fast and strong. But she wasn’t exactly a weakling. Cybil might be the fighter in the family, but Sam put in her hours at the gym. Kind of.
“If you cannot keep up, stop rowing,” Bjorn grumbled. “We will be navigating difficult waters.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered, working her oars as the swells grew larger. She glanced at the line of cliffs alongside them. “I take it we’re going to be fighting the tide the whole way?”
“We will stay close to the rock,” he reported as he shrugged off his fur cloak.
She was about to respond before he pulled his tunic over his head then continued rowing. Words died on her lips as she took in the broad expanse of his shoulders, muscled back and slim waist. Though all the ridiculously hot male flesh was enticing, her eyes were soon ensnared by other things.
His various tattoos. Then the deep scar that ruined a
few of them as it ran from between his shoulder blades downward. Almost as if something had tried to rip his spine out.
“Hell,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
“Row, woman,” Bjorn reminded, clearly not concerned about his scar. “Or pull your oars in.”
Something about the way he seemed unaffected by vanity made her do exactly what he asked. Yet she knew as she shrugged off her cloak, rolled up her sleeves and went to work, exactly what she liked about it. For almost half her life she had been with a man who cared too much about his appearance. Who would have been mortified to show the world that kind of scar, no less reveal it to a woman he found attractive.
Not that Bjorn found her attractive.
If anything, he found her a hindrance as he muttered on and off about her rowing abilities. Or lack thereof. Yet he didn’t ask her to pull in her oars. Good thing, because it would’ve gone against her instincts considering the water. They were far enough out that they had to fight the waves. On one side, big swells. On the other, waves crashed against a cliff wall. The same cliffs they would crash against if they didn’t keep this boat on track.
Bjorn rowed faster, his words sterner than ever. “You should embrace a more shallow pull with your oars, Samantha. You lack strength.”
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Better to focus on keeping the boat upright. The wind howled and sea spray stung as it lurched and rocked. Her heart thundered, and she began trembling. What she wouldn’t do to be anywhere but here.
“Think less about where you would rather be and more on that,” Bjorn yelled over the crashing waves as he pointed at a rocky outcrop. “We will go ashore there.”
Sam nodded and kept rowing. Had he heard her thoughts? She pressed her lips together and focused on the taste of sea salt rather than the possibility he read her mind.
He wasn’t allowed.
That would ruin her plans.
Though she was convinced they were going to flip several times, Bjorn clearly knew what he was doing as he navigated them inland. When they finally made shore, he jumped out and pulled the boat the rest of the way in. Though shaky, she was determined to follow, but he took the matter out of her hands when he scooped her out of the boat and headed onto land.
“I can walk,” she mumbled.
“Maybe at first.” His eyes remained dead ahead. “But then your mind would catch up with your body, and you would fall.”
“I would not.”
“You would.”
After that, he said nothing but walked across the rocky shore until they entered the wood line and veered left, then right, then left again.
“Where are we going? Are we near the Dragon Lair,” she murmured, still weirded out that he felt the need to carry her but sort of grateful too. She was wiped, no thanks to him.
Naturally, Bjorn gave no answer but kept moving.
She was about to say something else when he stopped short and put a finger to her lips.
“What?” she mouthed, convinced he was just determined to drive her nuts with the whole cryptic angle.
He shook his head, his eyes alert as he lowered her. When he crouched and urged her to do the same, she started to grow alarmed. He handed her a dagger, gestured back toward the ocean and put a finger to his lips, reminding her to remain quiet.
He wasn’t screwing around.
Someone was here.
He pulled several small blades out of a pouch then another dagger from his side. Where was his sword? Wasn’t a Viking supposed to carry a massive blade in times of trouble? Evidently not. Or at least not if you were Bjorn.
Instead, he went all primal as he grabbed random sticks one by one and sliced some of them down to daggers with three well-placed strokes of his blade. Never once did he look around and try to locate who threatened them. Never once did he break a sweat.
Yet she knew something was seriously wrong.
She could almost feel it in the air. A new sense of awareness. Almost like the way she felt a summer storm rolling in.
Seconds later, he leapt to his feet, then vanished through the foliage. Holy crap. He might have insinuated that she stay put, but this was too much. Blade in hand, she scrambled after him. Sam was nearly to the end of a path hidden by bushes when something tripped her. She glanced back only to realize it was a few of Bjorn’s unshaven sticks crisscrossed in such a fashion out of the ground that they wouldn’t hurt her.
Just slow her down long enough.
Damn, the man had a plan, and he was quick about it.
When cries of pain rang out from her left, she started crawling through the bushes until she reached the edge of the rocky shore. What she saw there made her jaw drop. Two men already lay dead with their throats sliced open. A third knelt as Bjorn held one of those shaved sticks against his jugular.
Sam couldn’t hear what they were saying but knew it wasn’t going well for the other guy based on the stark fear in his eyes. Then two more men appeared. A breath later, both had a shaved stick in their windpipe, and they fell to their death. Had Bjorn even moved? Yes, he had, so fast she barely caught it. Yet still, he continued questioning the man at his feet, unfazed when more warriors rushed out of nowhere. Within a flash, they fell beneath his weapons.
Though she saw him defeat them, something drove her forward. Something made her rush to defend him.
That’s when she saw it.
Something…different.
Red skirted her vision as she ran, jumped and landed on what most would see as a cluster of leaves caught in the wind. But she felt it…saw it. It was someone pretending to be one thing when they were clearly another.
She stabbed.
It deflected.
They rolled and rolled then she stabbed again.
This time, a hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her blade mid-air. Several heavy breaths later, a man materialized beneath her. Based on his sinfully handsome looks, Sam didn’t bother fighting him anymore.
She knew a Sigdir when she saw one.
“Odin be blessed, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?” he murmured as his pale baby blues looked her over. “Though you have good energy, your fighting skills lack because you need to develop your core muscles.” His eyes dropped to her stomach then lower. “I know a very good way to do that.” He thrust his hips ever-so-slightly in blatant invitation. “Would you like me to show you?”
Sam’s brows perked. There was no mistaking it. “You’re related to Tait, aren’t you?”
“Get off of him, woman,” Bjorn said. A man lay dead at his feet as he wiped blood off his dagger.
She almost bit back that he didn’t own her but remembered that he did. Or at least he thought so. When she started to move, the guy beneath her gripped her hips, kept her in place and looked at Bjorn. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Cousin?”
Sam might be playing possum right now, but no man kept her locked down. One quick, well-aimed jab to the guy’s chest gave her the freedom to stand. As she brushed herself off, she looked down into his somewhat amused face. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, numbnuts?”
“Numb what?” he said.
“Right.” She gestured at his balls. “Grab me like that again, and those’ll be numb for longer than you’d like.” Sam winked. “That means the shaft attached to them won’t work either.”
Bjorn made an unrecognizable sound as he continued cleaning his blade. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was his version of laughter.
She glanced at the bodies left in his wake and arched a brow at him. “You’re a real badass, eh?”
Bjorn in typical Bjorn fashion only grunted before he held a hand out to the man on the ground. “This is my cousin, Kodran. Second born son to Kol ‘The Lucky’ and Amber.”
“And brother to Tait,” she quipped, patting herself on the back for being so damn astute.
“Yes, brother to Tait,” Kodran agreed as Bjorn pulled him to his feet. “But unlike him, a married man.”
Her head snapped ar
ound. “Come again?”
Kodran got a cocky look on his face. “Yes, married.” He offered her a lopsided grin. “But willing to make room for more.”
“Seriously?” Sam put her hands on her hips and assumed the oh-no-you-didn’t-just-say-that position which was mostly just a defiant thrust of her chin.
“Yes.” Kodran kept grinning, evidently pleased. “Would you like to become my second wife?”
“Second wife?” Her jaw dropped. “Are you out of your ever loving—”
That’s all she got out before Bjorn interrupted. “Why are you here, Kodran? It is too dangerous. What is happening at our lair?”
All mirth and lust vanished from Kodran’s eyes as they met Bjorn’s. “I sensed Tait’s distress. Then I realized you were out here too. We need to get back.”
Before Kodran could go far, Bjorn grabbed his arm and met his eyes. Sam felt his upcoming question like a heavy weight on her chest.
“Is Meyla all right?”
Kodran nodded. “For now. She suffers a grievous wound but lives.”
Sam hung her head and closed her eyes. Thank God. She didn’t know the woman, but she did know Megan. And Megan loved her dearly.
“What of Runa?” Bjorn asked. “Has she been taken?”
Samantha braced herself for the answer. For confirmation.
“No.” Kodran shook his head, confused. “And I tried to tell my brother that when I passed his dragon but he didn’t believe me.”
Bjorn’s brows drew together. “So she is safe?”
Kodran nodded. “She is.” He cocked his head. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Bjorn’s eyes met Samantha’s before his frown deepened and he, as always, remained vague. “We must get back to the lair. It’s unsafe out here.”
Kodran nodded in agreement. “We have had no contact with the Fortress. How fares everyone?” He resumed eying Samantha. “And who are you again, woman?”
“I will share everything once we get to the lair,” Bjorn said as he sifted through a satchel Kodran handed him, then pulled on a sleeveless tunic.
“I did not bring clothes for your new woman, Cousin, but I have an extra fur.” Kodran nodded at her. “We can strip her down and warm her in that if she desires.”
Vengeance of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 2) Page 6
