Soul of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 3)

by Sky Purington

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I will not hurt you, woman.”

  “I am not afraid of you,” she lied. “But I am also not foolish.”

  “All right.” Tait crossed his arms over his chest and ground his jaw. He was clearly holding back anger. “Then at least come halfway down. I can barely see you up there.”

  She frowned. “I am not that far away.”

  “I know.” He nodded behind her. “But something is creating a glare, and I cannot see you.”

  Lauren glanced behind her. “There is nothing but a wall and doorways.”

  “I see that.” His frown deepened as he squinted. “More doorways than I remember.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” He was trying to trick her into coming down. “There is nothing up here that could cause a glare.”

  “Well, there is something bright up there making it hard to look at you.” Tait scowled and finally looked away. “Please come down. At least halfway. I need to understand what’s going on and I’m beginning to suspect you’re the only one who can tell me.”

  The way he said that last part made her scowl as well. Why was he so opposed to her?

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Lauren,” he continued. “I cannot enter the house.”

  “So you say,” she replied, trying to ignore how uncomfortable she was becoming for no logical reason. While the bright light he saw made no sense, why did he think there were so many more doors? It seemed like an uncanny comment considering she had been in her mental hallway of endless doors when she challenged him to return.

  “You do not believe that I still cannot enter?” he said. She detected the moodiness he tried to keep from his voice. “Then I will show you.”

  He tried to walk inside but couldn’t. In any other situation, she would think he was faking but knew he wasn’t. Not only did she recognize the way he stopped at the threshold, but she had felt it too many times. There was no disguising the way the unnatural barrier made them feel.

  Lauren clenched her jaw and debated. It was clear he couldn’t come in, and she had challenged him to return though he didn’t seem to know it. So it only made sense that she go down. That she faced this. Him. Whatever seemed to be doing this to them.

  Courage rallied and knife firmly in hand, she made up her mind.

  Time to go.

  So she worked her way down slowly, her eyes narrowed on Tait the whole time. He, in turn, watched her grimly from beneath lowered brows. By the time she reached the bottom, he hadn’t moved. If anything, he was unusually still.

  “What is it?” she said, not trusting his strange behavior in the least. “The last time you were here you acted far differently when you were trapped outside.”

  “Differently?” he said softly.

  Too softly, as if he was distracted and trying to work something out in his mind.

  “Yes.” She kept narrowed eyes locked on him and tried not to be overwhelmed by his size. From above, she could somewhat handle it. But down here, she only became more aware of how much larger he was than her. “When you were here before you were pretty upset with me.”

  When his eyes finally met hers, she gripped the railing tighter. Why was it more difficult to be near him now than the last time? Nothing had changed. Not really. She still thought he was a ruffian. Most likely a criminal. Maybe that was why she was growing so hot, and it was becoming difficult to breathe? Why her heartbeat was increasing.

  She was afraid.

  Wasn’t she?

  While tempted to go get the first aid kit to see if she might be suffering cardiac arrest, she knew it wouldn’t matter if she were. The EMT’s might be able to save her, but they wouldn’t be able to get her to a hospital for further medical treatment. So it was all rather pointless.

  “You do not look well,” Tait murmured, watching her closely. “It is because of the curse, yes?”

  “I feel fine,” she bit out as she pried her hand from the railing, smoothed her hair back and resumed her usual tight posture. She refused to give him an inch. To share anything at all.

  “Could you come a little closer?” he said softly, his expression far less troubled than it had been. But then he was slowly but surely getting what he wanted, wasn’t he?

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “What will it take then?”

  “I do not understand.”

  Tait shrugged, still watching her closely. “When you were upstairs, I proved I couldn’t come in, so you came down.” His brows inched together in question. “So what do I need to do now so that you will come a little closer?”

  Stop looking at me like that.

  Stop making my heart race.

  Of course, she said neither of those things but remained perfectly reasonable. “Why do you want me to come closer?”

  “Truthfully?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded firmly. “Truthfully.”

  “Because something happened between there and here.” He gestured upstairs then at her. “The closer you get the less…” He ground his jaw and shook his head, obviously looking for the right words. “The less moody and upset I got.”

  “That makes no sense,” she said, wondering about his angle.

  “I agree.” He shrugged, his demeanor certainly less intense than before but not quite pleasant. “It does not make sense, so I want to test the theory.”

  “Test the theory?” she asked with contempt, surprised that he had enough intelligence to say those words. To think them for that matter.

  Tait’s eyes narrowed before he smoothed his expression. Yet another sign that there might be an intelligent mind rattling around in there. Especially if he did so to get what he wanted.

  “Yes, test the theory,” he said through clenched teeth, his grin tepid as he watched her. “Because if I’m right, the closer you come the more I will feel like myself.”

  Her eyes widened. “Yet another good reason not to come closer.”

  “What are the other reasons?” he asked, catching her totally off guard.

  Lauren didn’t expect a biker to be this witty. And if God forbid, he was a Viking, the same rules applied.

  “I never said there were other reasons,” she shot back.

  “You implied it.”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  When she scowled, he continued. “Either way, you are afraid of me, yes?”

  “I’m only being cautious. You are a strange man, and I am here alone,” she pointed out. “Any woman would be.”

  “Yet you’ve met me before,” he countered. “And I did not hurt you then.”

  “But I suspect you wanted to.”

  Tait contemplated her. “I wanted to do something to you.” His wry grin was forced at best. “But it wasn’t hurt you.”

  She remembered his over-confidence. The cocky grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. She knew precisely what that something was. He had been ridiculously flirtatious. Another man entirely.

  “Ah, so you are starting to understand,” Tait murmured, his eyes still locked with hers. “I do not seem quite like I did before, no?”

  No, he didn’t. He had been far smoother. An obnoxious flirt.

  “You could have been acting that way when I first met you to accomplish your goals,” she informed. “What I see now might be the real you.”

  “And this version of me is more convincing?” He snorted. “Because I’ll be honest, the goals I need to accomplish now are far more important than before.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Had he just insulted her?

  Instead of getting frustrated, she kept her emotions tucked away and her voice monotone. Businesslike. “So your theory is that the closer I get to you the more like yourself you become.” She cocked her head and hoped her sarcasm translated. “The way you are supposed to be?”

  His wry grin flattened, and he n
odded, his response measured and spoken slowly as if testing her wits as well. “Yes, Lauren, that is exactly why I would like you to step closer.” He nodded in compliance as if offering her a boon. “I think whatever is happening with our curse is affecting my personality. More so, I think you are.”

  “That is impossible,” she said crisply and smoothed her slacks.

  “Which part?” One of his brows shot up. “The curse or your affect on me?”

  “Neither.” She angled her head and gave him a haughty look. “I was referring to your supposed personality change.”

  For a split second, she thought she saw anger flash in his eyes but he quickly repressed it, admitting more than she expected. “It’s true,” he gave readily. “I have always been lighthearted and enjoyed women.” He shook his head. “But since I met you and we saw the Nidstang, everything has changed. I am depressed, enraged and moody for no reason.” He kept shaking his head, truly baffled. “All things I have never been.” His eyes pleaded with hers. “Things I do not wish to continue feeling.”

  Lauren kept frowning but couldn’t quite look at him as haughtily. He seemed too genuine. And she understood his particular form of distress having been trapped in this house. The feeling of being kept from what he understood. In her case, it was getting out of this house and questioning reality in general. In his case, it was getting into the house and questioning his personality.

  Either way, it was all extremely disagreeable.

  For them both apparently.

  The only difference? She might be able to help him. And if she did, could it offset whatever was happening to them? Manage to break them free? Her eyes focused on his again. But how would she do that? What if she got too close, the spell broke and he grabbed her? Because she knew exactly what the other version of him wanted from her and he was far too big to fight off.

  As if he read her mind, his eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “If you step closer and I return to myself, I can assure you that I do not want you, Lauren.”

  Her brows perked slightly. “That’s preposterous.”

  His brows lowered slightly. “Me returning to myself or not wanting you?”

  “The latter,” she said. “If you desired me so strongly before, you will again. It only makes sense. It is the only thing that will prove…”

  She stopped talking when it occurred to her what she almost said. What she might have expected to see from him when he returned to normal.

  That he desired her.

  “No,” he said, likely following her every thought based on her unsure expression. “I will not desire you again, Lauren.” He shook his head, his expression a little too put off for her taste. “Rest assured.”

  “You are only saying that because it makes sense to say that.” She kept her legs locked ramrod straight, didn’t fidget and allowed her hands to remain loosely clasped in front her. A position she had mastered long ago to show everyone how calm she was. How unaffected she was by everything in the political world. “Because otherwise you know I will not come any closer.”

  “No.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because of this curse, I have a pretty good idea about who you are.” He shrugged and almost looked apologetic. “I do not want you now, woman. And I cannot imagine wanting you once I return to my old self.”

  Lauren would have stiffened more if she could. He lied. He must. Because she was not unattractive. She saw how men looked at her. Yet she found her own denial difficult to swallow as she held Tait’s gaze. The truth was, he wasn’t looking at her like that in the least. No, she knew that particular look, and it had nothing to do with desire.

  She had seen it before.

  He was forcing himself to gaze at her.

  And she did not like it now any more than she had when her husband did it.

  “Fine,” she said crisply and strode forward, caught in a memory, caught in well repressed anger, determined to be a better wife for him as she crossed the platform in her mind. Determined to ignore the women in the crowd.

  The women Charles did look at with desire.

  Lauren inhaled deeply and opened a door in her mind, set to push the memory into it, only to find someone standing at its threshold. She blinked once, twice, three times before she realized what she had done and where she was.

  “Loki’s cock,” came a low murmur by her ear.

  Frozen, not sure what to do, her gaze traveled up over a strong chest, neck, and jawline before her eyes met Tait’s. Not from across the room but right here. Inches from her. When had she walked to him? When had she come so close that she could smell his exotic scent…his spice? But it didn’t much matter as his large hands wrapped around her forearms and he started to walk her backward.

  Right over the threshold into the chalet.

  Right past his barrier.

  Though tempted to whack him away or even stab him with her knife, she didn’t. No, she stared up, utterly stunned, as he closed his eyes and whispered what sounded like a prayer of thanks under his breath, then released her.

  Lauren took a step back then forced her legs straight again even though they grew numb. Weak. What was happening to her? Why did she feel like this? Not only winded but without muscles. Without the strength to hold herself up.

  But she would.

  She always had.

  And she did as she staggered back a few more steps and gripped the back of the sofa without removing her eyes from Tait. She thrust out her blade and narrowed her eyes. While she thought for sure she would stutter her questions, no, demands, everything came out perfectly clear. “Why are you in here? How?”

  Never mind that it was exactly what she had hoped to accomplish.

  For a moment, he seemed as baffled as her, and just as intense. Then something happened. His expression became less confused as a smile of relief curled his lips. “I do not know.” Tait rolled his shoulders as though finally free of a heavy weight. “But at least I feel normal again.” He grinned as his eyes met hers. “Completely normal.”

  Lauren gripped the blade tighter, not trusting that look in the least. It reminded her too much of the man she had first met. More than that, it reminded her of how she had responded to him on the inside. A part of her she refused to recognize. That she downright disliked.

  Yet it seemed she had nothing to worry about as he proceeded to ignore her and headed for the refrigerator. She kept her knife at the ready as he pulled a beer out, twisted off the cap and downed it in four long gulps.

  Well, that was not good.

  When finished, he had the decency to set it aside rather than toss it on the floor. More than she expected to be sure. While she fully anticipated him going for another beer considering the alarming rate in which he drank the first, he did not. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on her knife.

  “You have a lot to learn about how to handle a blade, woman.”

  Unwilling to overly engage him, Lauren kept her face expressionless and her weapon at the ready. “I know enough to point it in the right direction if you come too close.”

  The corner of Tait’s mouth crawled up. Some women might see that as flirtatious, but she knew exactly what it meant. He was being condescending…right?

  Rather than continue chastising her abilities to defend herself, he looked around and said, “How is Aunt Megan? Where is everyone? Svala?” His eyes returned to hers. “And where is Shannon?”

  “You met her once,” Lauren ground out before she could stop herself. Darn it. Why did she care what he thought of Shannon?

  “I did,” Tait agreed. “And I look forward to seeing her again. Very much so.” Before she could respond, he continued, genuine concern in his voice. “What about Aunt Megan? Is she all right?”

  It was the first thing he had said that really got through to her. That made her see him as a civilized person rather than…whatever he was. A biker. Scoundrel. Viking. Criminal. All that aside he truly cared about M
egan. She might not believe he was a Viking, but she did believe he knew Megan well and that she was definitely a part of his family.

  “She took a turn for the worse,” she reported. “So Sean took her to the hospital.”

  “A turn for the worse?” A frown settled on Tait’s face. “What does that mean?” His eyes searched hers as his voice dropped. “Is she dying?”

  “She likely will…” Lauren started but was thrown by how concerned he looked, how sad and upset. She remembered feeling that way a long time ago when her mother was sick. So, though she might not like or trust him, she softened her words and gave him a little less than the cold hard truth. “The doctors will take good care of her, and hopefully she’ll be just fine.”

  The way Tait looked at her was indescribable. Far more trusting than she anticipated. “Yes?”

  “No, of course not,” she nearly said but bit her tongue and nodded. “Yes.”

  Tait might be straight forward about most things, but when it came to this, Megan being sick, he seemed pitifully eager to bury his head in the sand. And while that was something she had always refused to do with her mother’s illness, she was hard pressed to discourage him.

  To that end, she was compelled to give him a sliver of hope, even as she kept her blade in place. “Her treatment has been difficult, so it’s not surprising. Actually, it was expected.”

  Tait eyed her, seemingly contemplating her words before he nodded and said something else she didn’t expect. “I am sorry that you could not go with her…that you were trapped here.”

  Did he think she wanted to? Was that the impression she was giving him? Yet she supposed it might be. She hadn’t meant to, had she? Lauren frowned as she considered that. Megan had been remarkably nice to her this past month. Kinder than she expected considering her illness and how awful it was making her feel. In fact, Megan was the only one she really liked here. Not that Sean and Mema Angie were bad she just couldn’t relate to them.

  “Yet you were raised by a fisherman,” Sam would say about now. “Then again, you live in a constant state of denial, so I’m not surprised by your thoughts, Sis.”

  “Are you all right, woman?” Tait said.