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

by Sky Purington

  “I understand how remarkable the soul is, but I do not understand how you fuse one to another.” She flinched. “Better yet, how you rip a piece of yours off, to begin with. That sounds painful. Daunting.”

  Tait shrugged and nodded, more than willing to leave it at that.

  “But there is more, isn’t there?” she said softly.

  Of course, there was more, and she damn well knew it by catching glimpses of his thoughts.

  “Like I know Runa told you after it happened,” Tait said. “It’s a very dangerous process.”

  “Why?”

  “Do I really need to explain it?” he grumbled. “Doesn’t it sound dangerous based on what I already told you?”

  “Just tell me, Tait.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, trying to come up with the best way to explain something so complicated. Something so inherently dragon. “Much like giving blood, the souls must be a match. So much so it could only compare to matching two rare blood types. The rarest actually. Like a puzzle, the pieces must fit together to create a bigger picture. There can be no mistakes, or the image will fragment and cease to exist. There must be a perfect compatibility between two souls for a dragon to share…to save another.”

  Lauren contemplated him, her voice still soft. “Why does it sound like we are taking the long road just for you to say you care about me?”

  “Well, I do care about you,” he said, never more truthful. “More than I anticipated.”

  “Yes.” A small but knowing smile came to her lips. “I am gathering that by what it took for you to save me.”

  Tait narrowed his eyes. Why did this conversation somehow feel like he was professing more than he was? Because he wasn’t. Was he? Hel. His eyes met hers. Did he? He swallowed and nearly swore aloud. His dragon had saved her for the greater good. To protect their families. To keep her safe so, in turn, they could keep everyone else safe. So why did it suddenly feel like the man inside wholeheartedly agreed with the dragon?

  While he meant to merely think it, the thought came right out of his mouth. “Have I fallen in love with you?”

  Lauren shook her head, that same amused grin hovering on her lips. “I’ve no idea. Have you?”

  He couldn’t help but meet her small smile. Any other woman in her position might handle this entirely different. Simper. Be joyous. Back away quickly. Deny altogether. But not Lauren. She had gone from prim and proper to someone with a teasing glint in their eyes when a man claimed they loved her.

  “You never claimed you loved me,” she chuckled into his mind. “You asked me if you did.”

  “And did you answer?” he asked aloud, a smirk on his face, curious how she’d answer.

  “Do I think you love me?”

  He nodded, just going with it at this point. Curious to see how confident she was. How confident she had become.

  “I think you do,” she answered honestly. “As much as you understand it, that is.”

  “Understand it?”

  “Between a man and woman versus the love you feel for family.”

  His eyes widened. “I know the difference.”

  “Do you?”

  “I just said I did.”

  “Hmm.” She rolled the snow globe along the dagger blade absently. “I do not think you have ever been in love with a woman, so you have no idea what it feels like.”

  “And I don’t think you have ever loved a man.”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  Back and forth the snow globe rolled as she guided it.

  “I know you didn’t love Charles,” he said.

  “No, definitely not,” she agreed. “Though at one time, I thought I did. That is more than we can say for you.”

  “How do you know?” He shrugged. “Maybe I loved a woman before you.”

  Tait almost flinched when he realized what he said. Almost. Because it implied, he did love her. As his eyes held hers and he lost himself in their rich sage green, he was just fine with what he had said.

  For that matter, he was just fine with how he felt.

  “Did you then?” she whispered. “Did you love anyone before me?”

  He covered her hand with his and shook his head. “No.”

  “Tait,” she continued whispering, her eyes locked with his. “You are touching me.”

  Her heart? With his words? Good. Because he suddenly knew without a shred of doubt that he meant them. That he did love her. Wanted her. Only her.

  Clearly hearing his thoughts, that same smile hovered on her lips as she shook her head then looked down at their hands. “No, I mean you are literally touching me.”

  Loki’s Hel, he was. When he tried to pull her in, she shook her head. “No, I cannot.” Her pained eyes met his. “I am still locked out, but you are no longer locked in.”

  “So be it.” A breath later, he had her on his lap in her tent. “Now we are trapped outside together.”

  “It is not so bad out here,” she murmured. “Perhaps better than in there?”

  Tait didn’t bother answering but wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. Not gently but with everything he had. Everything he suddenly felt. She had always tasted better than the rest, but now it was hard to describe. Like every woman he’d ever had rolled into one and even some he likely never met.

  She was the perfect woman.

  And he wanted more.

  So he flipped her beneath him and continued kissing her as he tugged then ripped away her stubborn little buttons. He was done with them and so was she based on the way she flicked one away, chuckled then yanked him closer.

  “We could be seen very easily,” he whispered in her ear as he started yanking down her pants.

  “Not if you use dragon magic,” she whispered back as she struggled to get his tunic off.

  Wind and snow battered the tent as he grinned. “But is it not more fun without it?”

  “Don’t forget there’s a child upstairs,” she began before he kissed the words right out of her.

  “Dragon magic it is then,” he managed, so desperate to be inside her again he was fine with speeding things along. A small chant later, the blanket was over them, and her soft skin was fluctuating beneath him. A brush of her silky thigh. The smooth plane of her small stomach. The sweet stroke of her soft hands on his body as she explored him. Felt him. Measured him as he measured her.

  “Lauren,” he groaned, too eager to wait, too desperate to be patient. He flipped her, spread her legs enough, and thrust.

  His pleasure only increased when she bit his forearm in passion as he worked his way inside her. He pulled her hips up just enough to increase her sensation as he kept his movements steady, even, not overwhelming. Not yet.

  “Lauren,” he whispered against the side of her neck as he pinned one of her shoulders down yet allowed her enough room to move back against him. He wanted her to start to feel the possession of a dragon without feeling caged or cornered.

  Without ever feeling like she needed more hallways or doors in her mind.

  As he hoped, she responded well and released a strangled moan as she arched back against him. Where his dragon’s aggression always lay dormant with other women, he felt it roaring up now.

  At the feel of her in a submissive position.

  “Tait,” she grunted with approval as he gripped her hip and began thrusting harder, faster.

  He kept his body low over hers, relishing the head to toe contact as they moved together. As he felt every little contour of her shape and how it fit against his. She might be small, but it worked. Every move they made complimented each other. While he knew some of it came from what his soul had given her, he sensed a larger part had nothing to do with dragons and everything to do with them.

  Who they were.

  How they were designed for each other.

  The more he not only touched but thought about her, the harder he rode her, the more he needed her. Was she his mate? Could she be? Perhaps. But as they drove closer to
where they needed to be, as sweat slicked their bodies and her arousal filled his nostrils, his every dragon sense, he started to feel something new. Almost like a peeling away of denial.

  Almost as if he had been living a lie up until this point.

  Until this very moment.

  Suddenly, images started to flash in his mind. Her and him in another place. Her sharpening her weapons as he sharpened his. She was every inch his mate. His fellow warrior. His best friend.

  Somebody he might have forgotten, but his dragon never did.

  “Lauren,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he thrust deeply. “I can see you now.”

  “I know,” she gasped as she tried to hold on but the feelings became too much.

  Then it was all far beyond them as she cried out. He was right there with her as he wrapped his hand around hers, thrust one last time and muffled his roar of release into a pillow next to her head.

  After that, he was somewhere else for a while.

  On a different plane of consciousness he supposed considering how great he felt. Which said a lot considering his vast experience. But this? This was far beyond anything he’d felt before, and he never wanted it to end.

  Was this love? It must be.

  More importantly, was this how it felt to be with his mate?

  It had to be.

  Because he knew damn well nothing this good would ever exist for him again. Not unless it was Lauren in some other lifetime.

  “Tait,” she whispered eventually, her cheek resting on the pillow, her tears of pleasure only streaks now. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

  “No,” he whispered and kissed the corner of her lips. He had remained right where he was. Inside her and covering her.

  Or at least that’s how his dragon looked at it.

  What she referred to, however, was the strain he must be under holding himself off of her, not crushing her. But she had no idea what he was capable of, more so his dragon, when he found someone he wanted so much. He would brace himself up eternally if need be.

  “Tait,” she murmured. “Are you seeing what I am?”

  Bliss? Rapture? Eternity? Yes, all of the above. Yet he knew that wasn’t what she was talking about as she pulled away and sat up. “Look.”

  While it was bright at first and he had to cover his eyes, he soon saw what she was looking at. A picture hung in the hallway on the landing above them that hadn’t been there before.

  “That’s Cybil’s, ‘Soul’ picture from her Dragons of Winter Harbor Collection,” she said softly as she stared at it. “It is mine now and should not be hanging in the hallway.” Her voice dropped several octaves. “But I suppose it is there for a reason…so that we could see it.”

  He eyed the beautiful picture. “And why would we need to see it?”

  “Because it has changed.” Her eyes met his. “Cybil’s ‘Soul’ portrait only ever had one dragon, not two.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  LAUREN KNEW AS she stared at Cybil’s portrait blazing brightly in the upstairs hallway, that this was why Tait had not been able to see her when he first arrived. Why the glare had been too bright.

  He had been blinded by a future he wasn’t ready for.

  Yet now he was.

  She could tell by the way he was able to see the picture clearly and by the way he kept her close. Like her, Tait was starting to see not one dragon but two.

  Them.

  Together.

  “Why do you think it’s there?” he murmured, stroking her and nibbling along her collarbone, as he seemingly took the magical photo as nothing more than a tiny speedbump on the road of their lovemaking.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured, barely able to stay focused as his hands started exploring her to the point of distraction. “All I know is that picture cannot sit still.”

  “Neither can I,” he said before his lips caught hers. She lost all sight of the picture as he brought her beneath him and kept kissing her. He felt so good. So much better than good. Only when he nibbled down the side of her neck, and she turned her head did she catch a glimpse of her keychain.

  Oh no.

  “Tait,” she said, alarmed. “I think we better get dressed right now.”

  “It is just a picture,” he murmured against her cleavage. “One that confirms we are right where we are supposed to be.”

  “I am not talking about the picture.” She pushed him back, grabbed the globe and sat up. “I am talking about this.”

  The Nidstang was back.

  Tait frowned and muttered several curses about bad timing before a chant had them dressed, both in Viking clothing. She scooped up the dagger just in time as an all too familiar suctioning sensation began. Tait pulled her into his arms as everything spun away and the air grew sparse. Seconds later, she was in the last place she expected.

  Flying.

  Was she dreaming again?

  Like before she was sailing over the ocean, her wings spread wide. Unlike before, this felt more real, far more vivid. The icy air. The salty sea spray. The serpentine feeling of her powerful body. Not only that, but the weather was far more precarious. Thunder crashed. Lightning ripped across the sky, and large black swells rolled across the dark sea.

  “Do not panic, Lauren,” Tait said into her mind. “Because this is real. You are not dreaming.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened as a big black dragon flew up alongside her. “Oh my goodness!” When the wind shear made her body lift then drop slightly, all potential calm went right out the window. “I do not know how to fly!”

  “Clearly, you do,” he said. “Trust your dragon. Do not fight your instincts.”

  “Instincts?” she shot back. “What instincts? I do not feel instinctive in the least!”

  That became more and more obvious as her body teetered and she began flapping madly.

  “You don’t appear it either.” Tait chuckled. “That is not the most dignified look for your dragon.” Still chuckling, he pulled ahead. “Fly as you did before. Go with the flow of the air rather than fight it. Like I am now.”

  She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to mock her. To laugh. And though that gave her a new sense of determination, it wasn’t nearly enough to gain the confidence and knowledge to fly like him. Not when she was still processing that she was literally flying, that she was actually a dragon.

  “This weather is very dangerous,” she challenged. “Just look at it!”

  “I have flown in far worse storms,” he countered. “This is nothing your dragon cannot handle.”

  “Tait, this is not good,” she cried as her body wobbled uncontrollably. “I cannot get my balance!”

  For a split second, she nearly created a doorway in her mind. Anything to escape her anxiety…to somehow escape this. To cope.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he murmured.

  The next thing she knew he was flying directly beneath her. “Ride me if you have to but do not create a door. No more doors, Lauren.”

  She swallowed hard, or at least she thought she did. Hard to tell considering everything, including her throat, felt different. But he was right. No more doors. Still, this was unbelievably frightening. Even more so when a particularly heavy gust hit her, and she lost altitude quickly. Then thump, she was on top of him. She clung to him and murmured a prayer of thanks.

  “Are you all right, Lauren?” She didn’t miss the humor in his voice, nor the compassion. “Are you comfortable?”

  Now that she had a grip on things—mostly him—she was starting to feel better. And maybe a tiny bit embarrassed as she cowered down. “I do not suppose this is the behavior of a fierce dragon, is it?”

  “Some might think your actions less than fierce.” That same humor remained in his voice. “But I rather like your lack of confidence right now.” He started gaining altitude. “I like the feel of you riding me.”

  She heard the double innuendo in his voice and answered it in kind. “Yet you haven’t really felt me ride you yet, have you?”


  His dragon released a low growl of approval. “Perhaps we should be careful what we speak of in our current state,” he said. “And remain focused on helping you spread your own two wings.”

  Lauren wondered if they were one step closer to breaking free from the curse altogether? Did she have to embrace her dragon and independence beyond ending things with Charles? To learn and test her own strength?

  “I would have liked to learn how to fly under better circumstances,” she mumbled. “And in better weather.”

  “And I would have liked to spend more time in that tent with you,” he replied. “Yet I cannot change what is any more than you can.”

  “Not your best attempt at a pep talk,” she remarked, enjoying the feel of his strong body, the way he moved through the air. The gracefulness of it.

  “It would be much more effective if I could touch you right now,” he said, a lusty octave to his voice. “Then you wouldn’t need more convincing.”

  He was probably right about that.

  “So what do I do next?” she said. “Other than trust my instincts.”

  Tait seemed to contemplate before he said, “Maybe you should focus on something that would bring out your fierceness. Something that would drive you to fly without giving it much thought.”

  It seemed like a sound idea. But what would introduce such fierceness? For the most part, she didn’t know where her inner rage came from. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it…not really.

  “It comes from our previous life, does it not?” Tait said softly. “The anger you felt over killing me, over being tricked into doing something that broke your heart.”

  A shiver of apprehension went through her. As though everything would soon come crashing down and the truth would be revealed. But if the truth was needed to set her and Tait free so that they were better equipped to face the enemy, then she had to confront it. Not run from it.

  Determined to find fierceness and fly, Lauren closed her eyes and refocused on the nightmare. More than that, her actions leading up to killing Tait. The conversation they’d had. Her need to keep both her sister and him safe.