“Shut it, perv.” She ignored how uncomfortable her wet clothes were, how she had started to shiver. “I’ll survive.”
“Maybe.” Kodran looked her over with appreciation. “If you let me help.”
“A fur would be a good start,” she agreed.
“A fur alone will not warm you. I will heat you up.” Kodran grinned and headed her way, but Bjorn intercepted him with his staple, “No.”
Kodran shrugged. “Then she will travel cold.”
“No,” Bjorn said again then stunned her when he didn’t urge her to start walking but wrapped his arms around her.
It was the first time she didn’t have a sexual response per se but something different…nice. A warm heat started to roll through her. Almost as if she had stepped out into the sun while simultaneously feeling like she was in the right place at the right time. Like everything was going exactly as it should. It was a wonderful, unique feeling that made her tremble and press closer.
“Are you doing this?” she whispered into the crook of Bjorn’s neck. “Do you really have this inside of you?”
His breath caught. She swore it did. But maybe not.
She vaguely felt his hand fall to her hip and his body tense before he pulled away. His eyes met hers. “What you felt was dragon magic. Now you will be warm and dry.”
He was right. She was warm, and her clothes were dry now because of him.
Yet when he stepped away, a chill raced through her, and she nearly pulled him back. She got the feeling he felt the same but fought it as he clenched his jaw, and looked through the trees. “It is time to go.”
Sam released a ragged breath as he pulled her after him. What was up with this guy? What was up with her when she was around him? Because unless she was outright groping him, Bjorn was one tough, detached soldier.
Kodran said nothing but she felt him close behind. Not in a someone’s walking up on you way but a someone’s checking out your ass way. Eventually, she put a stop to it, throwing over her shoulder, “I’m not into it, sweet pea.”
Bjorn paused, made another indefinable sound under his breath, then continued on. She couldn’t figure out if he was pleased or not. If he cared in the least. And that started bothering her as time wore on and they traveled through more woodland, and torch-lit tunnels than any girl should have to suffer.
Where the hell was Bjorn’s mind at?
Did she want it on her?
Hell no.
But she needed to know where it was. What he was thinking. And it drove her nuts. Irritated with herself, she bit back a scowl and kept her mouth shut. Sam recognized what she was doing. The same thing she’d done night after night when Rick didn’t come home.
Waited.
Wondered.
What was Rick thinking? What had she done wrong? Who was he with? What came next?
She shook her head. “No!”
When Bjorn stopped short, she walked into his back. This time, he didn’t grunt or groan but swung her into his arms and started walking again. He never asked why she had blurted out, “no” but she got the impression he knew. That it might’ve even bothered him.
“I have two legs,” she reminded, wrapping her arm around his neck to hold on. “In case you didn’t notice.”
The moody Viking didn’t say a word but strode on. She might feel like a fool being carried yet again, but it wore off after a while. Mostly because she was so tired she couldn’t see straight. Still, what kind of excuse was that?
She was strong.
Independent.
A man didn’t need to carry her.
Those were the last thoughts she had before she dozed off then snapped to awareness when she felt a tug on her arm. “Are you awake? Are you in there?”
She cracked an eye open, completely confused when a young face appeared in her vision.
“I am Håkon,” he said. “Who are you?”
“Samantha,” she tried to say but was so thirsty the words stuck in her mouth.
“Do you know who I am, then?” the boy continued.
Sam’s eyes widened as his face came closer. “No. Sorry. Should I?”
“You should.” The boy’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew solemn. “Because I belong to Bjorn.”
Chapter Five
BJORN HAD A lot on his mind.
Or at least he should.
His kin. Their welfare. His mother. Father. Sister.
But no, all he could focus on was Samantha.
Was it the dragon in her? Was it her unexpected bravery when she meant to defend him earlier? Was it the way she obeyed him so well?
Or was it the way her eyes softened when a child told her he belonged to Bjorn?
Maybe it was that. Maybe it was nothing at all. Nonetheless, he put her mind to ease when she looked at him in confusion.
“Håkon is not my son but more of a nephew, Samantha,” he said. “Matthew is his father.”
A look he couldn’t quite put words to flashed in her eyes. Mostly relief. Then anger. Then, alarmingly fast, nothing at all.
“Okay.” She shrugged, clearly trying to feign indifference.
Bjorn had fought many battles, but for some unexplainable reason, Samantha being under his control made him feel like a novice in a war he didn’t yet understand. A woman like her acting compliant made him wary. He knew that she would obey him, that she was cast beneath Gungnir’s spell. What he didn’t know was to what degree it might repress her personality. So far it seemed little if any.
It should.
That would be for the best.
Yet Bjorn wondered as he watched her...did he want anything or anyone to take that spark out of her eyes? The defiance that seemed second-nature to her?
“So you’re Matthew’s son.” Samantha sat up and held out a hand to Håkon. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam.”
“Nice to meet you as well.” Håkon stared at her wild red curls in wonder. “Are you a goddess too? Like the woman at the Fortress?”
“That’s my sister, Cybil.” Samantha smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m not a goddess. Just a…” She seemed to struggle with her words before she said, “I’m just a friend of Bjorn’s.”
“But Uncle Bjorn does not have friends,” Håkon said. “Outside of his kin, that is.”
Bjorn scowled, unsure why the child’s words bothered him. After all, he spoke the truth.
Samantha’s eyes met Bjorn’s, her words soft. “Well, he does now.”
Uncomfortable, he resumed sharpening his blade. “Håkon, please go let everyone know Samantha is awake. They were concerned about her.”
“Yes, Uncle.” Håkon bowed to her, and his cheeks grew rosy before he raced out.
Bjorn gestured at the cup by her side. “Drink, woman. You need fluids.”
“I prefer Samantha to woman.” She sniffed the liquid before she sighed with relief and murmured, “This is water, isn’t it?” then drank. Not a few sips, but the whole thing in four long gulps before she released a squeaky sound that he guessed was a sneeze.
When he frowned, she shrugged and hiccupped. “Excuse me.”
Before he could comment on her oddities, she started to eye the cave.
“Oh, wow,” she whispered, taking in its vast size, the various torches attached to the walls and the waves lapping at the small alcove at one of its entrances. Then her eyes fell to the bed she slept in. “Holy mother of Christ this is big.” Her eyes rounded on the headboard, and she stiffened. “Dear God.” When she ran her fingers along the dragon carved into it, blazing heat flared beneath his skin. As if she felt the same, her eyes shot to him, and she whispered, “I know this dragon.”
Connected intimately to the carving, another bolt of heat blew through him, and red skirted his vision. Yet again his dragon was responding to her. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. Surely, the beast was confused and searching for a sense of direction. An outlet to release all the emotions he had pent up since his father was struck down. Even those that had been f
estering from long before.
“It is but a carving,” he grunted and resumed sharpening his blade. When he spoke again, he made sure she understood his order. “Remember well, Samantha, that dragon holds no interest for you.”
He did not have to look at her to feel her eyes on him. When she didn’t speak right away, he looked up. As if in a daze, she nodded, her voice flat and obeying. “It holds no interest for me. It’s just a dragon.”
Bjorn eyed her, caught between being pleased that she listened yet wondering how much she might be suffering beneath Gungnir’s influence…beneath his influence. He frowned and focused on sharpening again. There was no choice to be had in what he’d done. Had the enemy figured all this out sooner, she could very well be under his control now. And if that happened, he could only imagine the havoc. Loki’s games.
“I heard our visitor was awake,” came Aunt Amber’s voice as she appeared at the door, a wide smile on her face as she looked at Samantha. “Hey there, I’m Amber.” She shook her head when Samantha swung her legs over the side of the bed. “No, no, please, you don’t need to get up.”
“But I do. I should.” Samantha perched on the edge of the bed and held her head. “Just give me a minute.”
Frustrated by his instinct to go to her, to give her strength, he ground his teeth and stayed put.
“Nonsense.” Aunt Amber urged her to lay back, not taking no for an answer. “There are a lot of things at play here, and you’re just coming into your dragon. You need rest.”
“Yeah right, the dragon thing,” Samantha murmured as she grew more and more exhausted. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam by the way.”
Aunt Amber smiled and nodded. “I know. I’ve heard great things about you.”
Samantha was about to respond but passed out.
“What’d you put in her drink, Nephew?” Aunt Amber sighed as she wrapped the fur tighter around Samantha. “We were hoping to talk to her, you know?”
“She needs more rest.” Bjorn tucked his blade away and stood. “She must gain her strength, both physically and mentally.”
No fool, his aunt watched him closely. “Keeping her so tightly under your thumb won’t make her any safer, honey.” Her eyes flickered to Sam then back to him. “No matter how much under your spell she is.”
Bjorn kept his expression neutral but soon realized he didn’t need to when she said, “Tait told me.” Her eyes searched his. “And even if he hadn’t I would have figured out something was up.”
Of all the sisters, Aunt Amber still spoke the most like a twenty-first century woman. At least when she was emotional. “Come on, Nephew,” she pulled him after her, “we need to talk.”
Everyone had already been updated on what happened since they left the Viking Fortress. How the enemy attacked, and the Viking King had fallen ill. His Uncles Raknar and Kol had vanished to their lairs after receiving the news, both furious and grieving. Only because of Aunt Veronica and Amber’s council did they not shift and go to their brother.
Now it seemed it was Bjorn’s turn to be counseled.
All was quiet in the main cave as Aunt Veronica awaited him and Amber. He no sooner sat on a log before one aunt gave him a piece of freshly cooked meat, and the other handed him a skin of ale. Before he could refuse either, Amber said, “Eat,” and Veronica said, “Drink,”
They both said, “Then we will talk.”
Bjorn knew better than to refuse them. They might not be dragons, but they were a force to be reckoned with. They had married dragons and raised dragon children. They were not only close to their own children but to their nieces and nephews.
Which meant they knew Bjorn well.
Without a doubt, better than he did himself at times.
In many ways, he didn’t have one mother but three. And right now they wanted to embrace him but would not. Instead, they would give him his space…and likely a piece of their minds.
They waited patiently until he finished his meat before Aunt Veronica spoke, her voice soft, and her eyes compassionate. “You have never been one to grieve well, Nephew. But know that we’re here, everyone who loves you, and you are not alone.”
“That’s right.” Amber’s eyes held his. “Your father is the strongest man I know, Bjorn. He will pull through this.”
“If it is meant to be, yes,” he agreed. “If not, might he dine well with Odin in Valhalla.”
“And with your cousin, Freydis,” Veronica reminded gently.
“Yes,” Bjorn whispered, upset he had not said her name, disappointed in himself that he’d become so consumed by his parent’s illnesses that he disrespected his cousin’s memory. Veronica’s daughter’s memory.
Veronica squeezed his hand, her eyes with his. “You are not alone, Bjorn. Please don’t forget that. Ever.”
“That’s right,” Amber agreed as she shifted until she sat next to him. “Life has not always been kind to any of us, but we stay strong.” She squeezed his other hand, her eyes searching. “We lean on our family when we need them. We let them help us, yes?”
Bjorn nodded, sensing that the conversation was about to head in a different direction entirely. Soon enough, he was proven correct.
“I understand the reasons behind your actions when you took Samantha,” Amber continued. “We all do.” She shook her head. “But we’re concerned.”
“About not only you but Samantha,” Veronica said, drawing his attention. Her brows flew together. “Bjorn, I know your intentions were noble, but you took a woman against her will.”
“If that isn’t enough,” Amber continued. “You went renegade to do it.” She frowned. “Why not tell one of your uncles so that they could help?” She shook her head, worried about him. “How much do you truly understand about what you face? Loki is no god to mess around with.”
“I had no choice,” he said, careful to keep his tone respectful though he wanted to lash out. To tell them to leave him to his business. That he knew what he was doing. “Already the kingdom is under threat from an enemy unlike any other. It could not withstand another. Not in light of all the suffering. My father’s illness.” He clenched his jaw and bit back emotion. “My mother’s…absence.”
“You mean your mother’s illness.” Veronica’s eyes searched his. “Something you’ve avoided as readily as your sister Svala.”
Amber squeezed his hand again, her eyes sad, concerned but determined. “We’re glad she returned to the future to seek treatment. It’s her best chance, and that’s what your father would want for her. To live. To be here for you and your family.”
Bjorn nodded, less and less inclined to have this conversation. He wanted to get back to Samantha and keep an eye on her. Not because he cared but because the woman, even under the influence of herbs, tended to be unpredictable.
“I know that look,” Veronica murmured.
“So do I,” Amber agreed.
When Bjorn frowned in confusion, Veronica murmured, “You could have put her in any bed, yet you put her in yours, Dragon.”
“I put her where she is safest.”
“Right,” Amber said. “Where you could control her.”
Something about the way his aunt said it set him on edge so he stood. “I am doing what is necessary to keep our people safe.”
His aunts nodded and, thankfully enough, said nothing more before he returned to his lair. He knew they meant well, but he also knew they were more upset than ever. Between his mother’s illness and now all of this, it made sense. Yet their concern for him went deeper. His past. The heavy burden of loss he still felt…that they all felt.
He stopped short at the entranceway to his lair when he didn’t see Samantha in his bed. Fire flared in his blood. A flash of fear he wasn’t prepared for. Where was she? Then the furs moved. Upon closer inspection, he realized she was in a little ball, hidden underneath. The only evidence that she was still there were a few red curls peeking over the top.
Bjorn almost growled after he breathed a sigh of relief. Why did th
is misguided woman get his dragon so riled? Why did she get the man in him so stirred? Deep down he knew. He had always known. But he refused to acknowledge it. Not now. Hopefully, never. He shook his head and was about to swim to cool his skin when she began mumbling.
“Oh no, no, no.” The mound of fur that was Samantha began to move. “Somebody help him. He’s not gonna make it!”
Bjorn stood over the bed, unsure of what to do. Was she dreaming or was the enemy in her mind again?
“Oh no, please,” she whimpered. “Somebody save him. Somebody save King Naðr.” Her voice grew more frantic. “Somebody, please, he’s going to die!”
This could only be the enemy trying to thwart him. Trying to get to his kin any way they could. So he whipped aside the fur, sure he would find Samantha possessed once again. Instead, she was curled in a ball with her chin tucked against her chest. Not possessed in the least but sobbing quietly.
“Samantha,” he murmured and touched her shoulder.
Still in a ball, she jerked away. “Leave me alone, Rick.”
Bjorn knew that name. Rick was her ex-husband. He pulled his hand back, disarmed by the sudden rage he felt. It was an alarming mix of possessiveness and the need to kill the man. Someone he had never met and knew nothing about except that he once called Samantha his.
Sure that she was simply dreaming, Bjorn meant to turn away but found it impossible as she curled up tighter and breathed irregularly. Almost as if she refused to weep anymore. As if she had practice at trying to repress whatever this was.
Growling yet again under his breath, he pulled off his boots and jerkin then lay down beside her. When she tried to curl into herself more, he pulled her close and tucked her against him. When she tried to pull away, still convinced he was her ex, he wrapped his arm around her lower back, held her head against his chest, and locked her more firmly in place.
“Enough, Samantha,” he murmured, bereft of the proper words to soothe a woman. Or at least this one. So he went with ordering her again. “You will find peace now, do you understand? Peace.”
Samantha stilled and stopped fighting him, her words soft and mumbled, “I’ll get her home, Bjorn. I promise. She’ll be okay.”
Vengeance of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 2) Page 7
