by Hazel Grace
“He isn’t expected to come until—”
“If that Viking gets his hands on you unexpectedly then it’ll—”
“He already has, and I took care of—” She doesn’t finish her words because I’m already on my way out of the room in the direction he came from.
He’s dead—plain and simple.
The brute thinks he can just touch my Davina while getting to walk freely around the island to do Hades knows what.
Not on my time.
Definitely not when I’m around. And he sure as fuck is going to learn to respect the living hell out of the woman that one day may open her heart to me, instead of using me as a teacher of things I know she doesn’t want from me.
My body spins around to face Davina again to unload another wrath of words on her, but she speaks instead.
“You will not see him.”
“Already did,” I reply. “And yes, I will.”
“Tobias.”
“Davina.”
She lifts a brow. “He is larger than you.”
“He’s stupider than me too.”
“Please.” Her face falls into a frown, one that would usually get me to do anything for her, except it falls short from hitting my rationality.
This time, I’ll get to kill something that actually deserves it. That touched something that I hold dear to my heart.
“No,” I deadpan.
“For me.”
“That won’t work.” I take a step toward her. “You see, I don’t handle a woman being touched or—”
“I handled it.”
“It shouldn’t be something you have to handle. Let me just kill the fucker so you’ll be safe, and we’ll look for how he got through the veil elsewhere.”
“We need information now.”
“How many times do I have to explain to you that he won’t speak? They are loyal to their people.”
“If he wants to live the rest of his days back home with them, he will speak.”
I lean forward. “You think trying to get him to be your friend is going to make him address all your concerns? Well I can testify firsthand that—”
“You’ve never been around a Viking,” she counters.
“I’ve been around killers and Hunters, Davina. I’ve seen men die before speaking. And that Viking in there is worse than all of them combined. Your sweet little face isn’t going to do shit.”
“My face has nothing to do with—”
“What do your sisters say?”
“It doesn’t—”
“I know Atarah doesn’t like it.”
Her eyes immediately turn into slits. “Are you speaking to her without my knowledge?”
“No, but she hates me, so I know she’ll despise him. I’ve been a pain in her ass for a few years now, so at least she knows who I am.”
“And she tries to get me to kill you off every other time you are here.”
I shrug. “You have a soft spot for me, darling, what can I say?”
“I need to try. I need to know if there is anything he knows that maybe you don’t.”
“The only thing we have in common is that we’re men,” I profess.
“You’re killers.”
“Most men are.”
She locks her jaw. “Not my people. Women are the killers.”
“We’re both humans.”
“That could be something, but your men can’t see the island.”
“I’m out of options.”
Davina remains silent for a moment before stating, “Maybe you can speak to him.”
“He won’t speak to me. You’d have better luck with him telling you to fuck off than I would. He’d flat out try to obliterate me with his fists.”
“Then let me handle it.”
“You’re pushing it, Davina.”
“I normally do, according to you, but this is serious.”
My nostrils flare. All of this is crucial to her well-being and her home, but she’s taking it too lightly. Handling something that she knows nothing about.
The Viking and I might be men, but he’s a different sort of male, and Davina has never been around a human other than me. He’d have no conscious of hurting her.
I’d kill for her.
But trying to get through her thick skull about it is like convincing my men to wear dresses.
“I promised I would protect you,” I rebuke. “I put my life on it.”
“And you do.”
I gesture toward the door. “I can’t when I’m searching for Lorne and you have a brute walking around your home.”
“He can’t hurt me,” she chimes.
I peer over my shoulder, back at where he left. “He won’t have a chance to.”
“I promise, I’ll be careful.” She touches my forearm to regain my attention. “I promise.”
“You can’t control everything, Princess.”
“Like you can’t control the sea, Prince of the Black Sea.”
“That’s fate.”
She straightens her spine like a little warrior about to go fight a giant. “And I’m his.”
A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “There seriously is no arguing with you is there?”
She smirks. “You’re finally starting to realize it.”
“How will I know you’re safe?”
She places a hand over my heart. “Here.”
The first mistake the little Siren made was obvious—she let me walk freely through the island with no guards hovering or watching my every move. The second mistake was showing me how much the pirate meant to her. She was protective, angry, expressed it through her eyes—which speak volumes.
And I’ve never seen eyes so green in my life.
At another time, maybe in another place, I would’ve claimed that woman. I wouldn’t have wanted any of my fellow clansmen to touch her. I’d probably even fight to keep her because her skin was kissed by the sun, nothing like the ivory-color I’m accustomed to. The sun doesn’t stay for long in Lothbrok, and if it does, it’s shaded by clouds.
Davina glimmers in the rays of the bright sun, and I can’t help but examine her when we’re in the same room.
But the pirate, he makes no secret about being in love with her. While her eyes read her emotions, his are covered all over his face like war paint. It’s in his tone, the touchy mood swings that he just presented, and now I know I can use him as a pawn.
He’s tall, almost my height, but definitely not my size. He’s not a scrawny man by any means, but he’s nothing that would scare me on the battlefield. He’s slender in build, his forearms show some muscles displayed by his rolled-up sleeves. His light brown hair is also affected by the sun because I’ve never seen that shade either.
But the long sword that is hoisted on his hip, I want to know if the boy can use it. The irony of using it on him isn’t lost on me, and it surely would make the little Siren lose her mind, however I need a means to leave after I obtain what I’ve come for.
After they argue, which I don’t hear all of, but his voice carries like a bird, Davina walks casually out of the room they were in and toward the double adjacent doors that lead outside.
I follow from afar, learning her hobbies, her everyday things that she does. She’s a woman, and women like talking. Though, I’m at a disadvantage because these aren’t just women but creatures who prey on men. However, I need to make every effort to obtain some of her trust and get back to my ship, which, hopefully, is still waiting for me.
Outside, the sun is extremely bright as she strides on a stone path surrounded by flowers of many colors, tall and bundled together. The route curves to the right, where a large pond lays in the middle of the grass and rocks.
She stands at the edge of the water, stretching her arms over her head while tilting her head to one side, showing off the slenderness of her neck. Her red hair beckons out against all the green of trees that don’t look native here but at home. Some are palm trees but others are pine and oak surrounding the lagoon, whi
ch presents as odd to me.
A small splash and Davina’s body is gone, the rippling of water the only thing making any movement that she was here and not in my head. Everything seems like a distorted and blurred dream here, each thing more bright and vibrant. Nothing I’ve ever seen or imagined possible in my head, and it all lays forth in front of me.
Davina’s head suddenly pops up from the water as she brushes back her hair and swims away from me, dipping back down into the reservoir. I inch closer, not bothering about hiding my presence anymore. If we’re stuck together on this island, might as well make the best of it and obtain what’s needed for me to leave.
Her head pierces through the water again, and the moment it does, I make her jump with my words.
“So are you and the pirate coupled together?”
She twirls in the water so quickly it takes me back a second at how she can move so fluidly. Her eyes glower at me as I step closer.
“He’s a strapping lad, I guess, if you like thieves.”
I’m still met with narrowed brows.
I shrug. “You don’t have to talk to me about it.” I smirk. “Wait, you don’t speak to me at all.”
She rolls her eyes and starts swimming away from me again.
“How did he get past the veil?”
She freezes then slowly brings herself to face me again.
“I heard your little fight.”
That gets her to swim toward me. Her eyes slam into my body, and she looks predatory.
Seductive.
A woman that needs to be fucked into submission because her whiny little pirate isn’t going to do it.
The look in her eyes discloses that she wants to kill me for eavesdropping, but from the conversation that I half-heard, she won’t get to venture down that path—yet. The little she-devil needs information from me after all.
I gesture to the water. “No, please, I’ll do the talking. You continue to enjoy your swim.”
My body is suddenly hit with a huge wave of water, shoving me backward until my back hits the ground.
Evil little wench.
Pushing myself up into a sitting position, my clothes stick to my skin as I shove my now disheveled hair back from my face. Only her eyes and nose appear above the water, and I know she’s hiding a damn smirk on her face.
“Sensitive subject?” I jeer.
She ignores me and continues to swim around in a small circle.
“You’re right to keep him away from me,” I proceed. “I’ll use him to my advantage.”
She doesn’t stop, my words ineffective to her ears. She must think I’ll concede to her wishes because I’m free and don’t want to be chained back to a floor.
“You underestimate me, Blood,” I announce. “I’m not like your pirate.”
I’ve killed men like him before breakfast when I was a wee lad.
Learning how to fight at a young age was normal in Lothbrok. For centuries our clan has been thrown in the throngs of chaos when we were at war with the Highlands. It was ruthless and merciless, women and children were murdered just as often as men. Our homes were burned to the ground, sometimes entire villages, and the strike of their warriors was always imminent—always coming.
When I turned seven, my father’s worst fears came to fruition when my siblings and mother were killed. I don’t remember them, maybe because I tried to lock out any sort of animosity that proved to be a weakness. It was best not to be emotionally attached to another human being. But loyalty ran deep within my veins, and that’s how I always stayed with my people and my father.
He never remarried, I watched his heart break plenty of times over the years when I was a child and families would gather together in the square. When siblings would play in the village and I stayed home alone to work. He never pushed me to be social, just a leader.
And that’s what I am.
Which is why I’ll use whatever she cares about to her disadvantage. When you don’t have a weapon, the other option is knowledge; the strengths and weaknesses of your opponents. And since I couldn’t take out a group of Sirens with my bare hands, clues would work just as well.
We might not know each other, never crossed paths before, but I’m going to be something that goes down as a nightmare in her history.
Sitting in the room where I’m held hostage, it’s the only spot that holds any sort of comfort. I’ve already scouted the small island, it’s just a few huts surrounding the castle with no boats or anything large enough for me to float on. Not that I expected to find anything where all these beings swim as transportation, but I thought I’d try my luck.
The door behind me creaks open, but I don’t turn around from the window, already smelling the familiar scent of sea salt wafting through the air.
“I’m not in the mood for the staring contest, Blood,” I allude, too busy pondering the thoughts that plague every second and minute here.
“Who are you?” The voice is deep and gravelly, and I snap my head in the direction of it.
Standing before me is a gray-haired man holding a trident in one hand and glowering at me like I just stepped into a place where I shouldn’t be—which technically I have. I know how it feels when said stranger walks onto any land I own in Lothbrok.
I kill them with no questions asked.
My eyes fall on his shining crown, and I stifle back a groan. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I think it just may have.
Shirtless, the man, if you’d want to call him that, cautiously walks over to me, his long hair stopping above his ribs as he slams the bottom of his weapon on the floor.
“Who are you?” I counter.
“This is my island,” he retorts. “And you will answer my question.”
His island, meaning he’s linked to the girls, which makes him the mythical King Triton.
“I’m Dagen the Blood Axe.”
The man’s brows furrow as he continues toward me again. “Who brought you here?”
“I came here on my own.”
“Impossible,” he snaps. “How?”
“I just told you, but you haven’t told me who you are.”
“I’m King Triton,” he proclaims, confirming my fear. “And you will answer me with respect and the truth.”
“Again,” I convey. “I trespassed on my own.”
He doesn’t waste a moment, positioning his weapon to shove in my direction. It catches my right arm, grazing my flesh, creating a biting pain, and I know there’s blood because it’s sharp as fuck.
Taking a step back, I instantly have to duck because the king already has his trident flying horizontally to take off my head. The moment it passes, I charge him.
Our bodies collide together until his swiftly halts from moving. His hand finds my hair as he tries to pull me off him, but I answer his move with a punch to the ribs. A muffled grunt leaves his lips, and I’m thrown off him, landing on my back.
His weapon thrusts down, but I dodge the hit, hearing it break the tiles next to my torso. My foot hurdles in his direction, hitting him in the thigh to gain a bit of time to shove myself back up.
It buys me no time though because he’s already stabbing his spear at me again, barely missing my head.
The ground underneath me starts to rumble, disturbing the limited furniture in this room. I stumble to get back up as he swings his weapon at me again, this time slamming into my shoulder. Numbness radiates through my whole arm as I slide to the side to get away from him, awaiting another hit.
It never comes.
I jerk my attention to him, distracted with whatever is behind him. His body is so wide that I can’t see what it is but hear the pattering footsteps approach deeper into the room.
Then I see her—the woman who drips beauty and strength standing beside him with a frown.
Davina’s green eyes study me, inspecting me from head to toe, which gets me to furrow my brows.
Is she worried about me?
“How long has he been here?” the old man l
eers. “And why didn’t I know this?”
She must communicate with him because he speaks again.
“How?” He returns his glare to me, so I’m not sure who he’s speaking to. “You,” he roars. “How did you get past the veil?”
“I didn’t know about this veil,” I reply. “I knew where I had to go, and I came here.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
The king perks a brow. “Who is he?”
“Oryn the Great.”
“Great at what?” he asks.
My eyes bore into him. “Killing. He’s a great leader.”
“That sends his son to do what, exactly?” I look over at Davina, who’s engaged in what I’m saying.
She wanted this, to know why I’m here and how. I honestly didn’t know about this veil that they keep speaking of because I could see the island clearly.
“I’m here for my own reasons, not to harm your people,” I recite. Which is true, I don’t plan on assassinating or harming anyone that doesn’t try to hurt me.
King Triton looks over at his daughter. “Did he hurt you?” She shakes her head, which earns her a glare from me.
I did try to hurt her, several times. So why she’s trying to save me only alludes to one thing—she wants to know more.
“I don’t believe you,” he responds, looking back to me. “You’re a Viking. Your people are barbaric and land hungry.”
“You’re speaking of the Highlanders,” I retort. “We only take what—”
“I’m not interested in your history,” he transmits. “What is your reason for being here?”
“To explore this land and any—”
“This land is not within your realm, boy. We’re extremely south from you—”
“I can’t convince you why I’m here then,” I seize. “I just told you.”
“And since I don’t believe you,” he claims. “You’ll die.”
Davina seizes his large bicep.
“I’ve said my peace,” he fumes, keeping his attention averted from her. “You’re naive to think you can convince this man to tell you the real reason he’s here.”
Her hands rip away from him as she takes a step back.
“Stand up.” It’s a feminine voice, sweet but stern that just filled into my head. Her stare is still pinned on the king, but I do what it tells me to do and get to my feet.
