“Wait,” Rafe said. “The Viking’s trying to give me relationship advice now?”
Chloe gave him a sheepish grin. “He’s really into communication. The truth is he makes wolves from our day look bad, he’s so into it. But he also has a point. Maybe if you showed her how much you truly care about her, that would make up for you manipulating her into mating with you—”
“You want me to woo her now? Act like I’m not angry as hell she took my son away from me? Who does that? There’s literally not a case of any she-wolf doing that in recorded history.”
“Well, according to Alisha, there’s not much recorded history about she-wolves in general, so we can’t know that for sure.” Chloe gave him a little smile.
But Rafe didn’t smile back. “If I make it out of this hellhole alive, I’m going to take her and my cub back to the future and I will spend the rest of my life making her pay for this.”
Chloe grimaced at this statement. “You know, it’s not a hellhole. It’s really quite pastoral most days. You shouldn’t take this as a true representation of our time or our culture.”
“Chloe,” he said. “I don’t care if this place is fucking Disneyland when there’s not twenty Vikings lined up to kill me. I’m never going to forgive her for bringing Rafesson here.”
Chloe looked at her husband and frowned. Fenris must have been saying something to her inside her head. “Really?” she said in English and out loud.
Fenris nodded.
And Chloe turned back to Rafe. “Rafe?” she asked carefully. “How exactly did you get to our time?”
Rafe immediately knew what she was really asking and said, “It doesn’t matter. And, even if it did, it won’t ever change how I feel about her now.”
“But—”
Whatever she was about to say was drowned out by the cheering crowd. And in the distance, a gang of wolf pups came running through the town and toward the fighting place.
One of those pups was his son, he thought, awe duking it out with fury inside his chest. But his inner-battle was soon interrupted by Fenris’s grim clap on his shoulder. He said something to Rafe in Old Norse.
Chloe translated, her face just as grave as her husband’s. “He says after you fall to Skeggi, you will not be forgotten. We will tell your story around the campfire and hope it is repeated over time so your ancestors may know you, so you may know you, even if you do not know it is of you we speak.”
Rafe looked at Fenris and answered the Viking’s dramatic last lines with a terse, “Thanks, man” in English.
Meanwhile, the huge-ass warrior he would fight first stood in the middle of the ring, proclaiming something in a grand voice. Again Chloe reluctantly translated for Rafe: “He says he will win this fight today. And if any other wolf stands against him, he says he will slay him, too, until the dark widow’s hand he has won.”
Rafe’s eyes went to Alisha, who was standing at the front of the crowd with a pack of cubs gathered around her skirt. Her expression was angry and frustrated, and her eyes stayed on Rafe, even as the Viking giant said his next words directly to her.
Chloe didn’t translate this time, forcing Rafe to ask her, “What did he say?”
“Ah, I don’t think you want to know.”
But Alisha must have understood. She picked up one of the pups at her feet, one of only three that didn’t have red hair, and held him close, as if to protect him from the Viking’s ugly promise.
“Tell me what he said, Chloe,” Rafe said, unable to take his eyes off Alisha and the pup.
Chloe shifted and mumbled, “Something about how after her mate is slain, he will then have her many times this very night and every night, until she spills her heat upon him and take his cubs. He said her sons, all of her sons, will call him father.”
And that was when Rafe’s vision turned to red, his wolf taking over with a click of a switch.
“Rafe, no!” he heard Alisha scream in the distance.
ONE MINUTE, Skeggi was spouting words at her—ones she didn’t understand, but they made her blood run cold, and the next, Rafe was tearing off his fur vest and running toward the giant.
“Rafe, no!” she screamed, her heart plunging at the same time he launched himself into the air. But it was already too late. Rafe was upon Skeggi, at the point of no return.
Skeggi opened his arms with a big laugh, a move that said, “Here, have one on the house.”
She’d seen Skeggi use a similar tactic during tournaments. He’d let his opponent get in good punch, and then shake it off quickly before beating the poor man within an inch of his life. It was a showy move, but very affective. He wasn’t challenged much after that and always left the fighting circle the sooner-than-expected victor.
However, Rafe didn’t swing on him as most opponents would have at that point. Instead he planted his foot square in Skeggi’s chest and shoved his hand into the giant’s laughing mouth… before yanking it back hard at the same time he pushed his booted foot further into Skeggi’s chest.
The crowd gasped as blood spewed forth from Skeggi’s mouth. It waterfalled onto Rafe’s chest as he threw the Viking’s tongue down in the snow like so much rubbish. The giant himself screamed and screamed, a terrible stunted sound as he stumbled around with his hands covering his now tongueless mouth.
Alisha stood watching, mute as she quickly covered the eyes of the four-year-old puppy in her arms. She wished she had enough hands to cover all of the wolf pups’ eyes, this fight had taken such a gruesome turn. But her son shook her hand off, ducking his muzzle under her hand, so he could see.
At that point, Skeggi couldn’t have conceded even if he’d had a mind to. In any case, Rafe didn’t give the Viking much time to regroup. He launched himself into the air again, strung his arm around the Viking’s neck, and then used all of his weight to turn his entire body toward the earth with a vicious twist.
There was a sickening crack and Skeggi crumpled inside Rafe’s neck hold like a pile of bricks.
Less than thirty seconds after the fight had begun it was over, with Skeggi dead before he even hit the ground, displacing the blood-speckled snow with an enormous thud, his tongueless mouth wide-open in a death rictus of horror.
The now completely subdued crowd looked as one at Rafe whose face and upper torso were covered in their best Viking warrior’s blood spatter.
A moment of stunned silence. Then Bukkr, one of Skeggi’s cousins, came rushing forth with a great battle cry, avenging his dead relative, even though he ostensibly would have fought Skeggi to the death for her claim if the fight had gone the other way. Or maybe he assumed Rafe had been lucky to win his fight with Skeggi, using the element of surprise and Skeggi’s own hubris to his advantage.
He wouldn’t have the benefit of either this time. Bukkr ran toward Rafe, leaping into the air, so he could bring his ham-sized fist down on the smaller man’s head with as much force as possible.
But once again, Rafe was both quick and vicious. He used a martial arts move to slice his hand into the Viking’s Adam’s apple. Bukkr stumbled backwards, choking on Rafe’s blow, and Rafe followed him, grabbing the disoriented man by the front of his tunic and plunging his index and middle fingers into the Viking’s eyes so fast, and with such precision, that the crowd let out a collective gasp.
It soon became evident Rafe had hit something nerve-related inside the Viking’s eye sockets, when Bukkr began convulsing on the Colorado king’s embedded hand. Then Rafe pulled his hand out of the poor man’s eye cavities and slapped his hands over the Viking’s ears in a forceful clapping motion. Almost like a Three Stooges cartoon, except this move was fatal. Bukkr fell on the ground next to his cousin, his face now an eyeless mess.
Rafe looked to the group of challenge Vikings, now shrunk by two in less than five minutes.
“Who’s next?” he growled, his voice more animal than man. It was a wonder he was able to maintain his human form, his hazel eyes were glittering with such murderous intent.
The
crowd waited. But no one stepped forward, their eyes were all glued to the two fallen wolves at Rafe’s feet.
On the opposite side of the ring, Fenris yelled something at the group of challengers, a few of whom now seemed to be trembling with fear.
“What’s he saying?” Alisha whispered to Chloe, who had come around the circle to watch beside her after Rafe went after Skeggi.
“Challenging a wolf for his mate is a grievous insult, indeed,” Chloe translated directly, as she’d often done for Alisha over the years. “And once a challenge has been set, it cannot be withdrawn. Unless…”
Fenris looked at Alisha as he said this next thing, and it seemed he was talking to her directly, although it was Chloe who translated his words: “If Rafe’s mate declares she does not wish any further fight, if she says she will remain with her mate, and if she vows to obey him in all things and marry him with ceremony before the next full moon, then Rafe has to step back. But if you don’t declare your desire to marry your mate, then the challengers to your claim either have to fight Rafe or he’s entitled to all of their lands and possessions.”
“Are you kidding me?” Alisha asked. She knew Fenris had never approved of her leaving Rafe in the first place, going so far as to tell her a few times in his stunted English that she should seek Rafe out when she got back to her time and attempt to communicate with him for the sake of their family, but this addendum to the rules of fighting seemed egregious, even by his standards. “He’s obviously making that up.”
Chloe shook her head. “No, that’s actually a real one. These rules were designed to prevent young she-wolves from cheating on their mates before they’re properly married—keep in mind Viking wolves only get married in the harvest months, so if the timing is off, a she-wolf could have her child before she’s joined in marriage to her mate. Lots of time for regrets and doubts to set in. So they came up with these rules for when another tries to claim an unmarried she-wolf: either that wolf has to kill her mate, so she’s free to be claimed, or she has to agree to return to her original mate, more dutiful than before.”
On the right side of the ring, one challenger climbed over the fence and Alisha’s heart sank. It was Erli, the youngest son of one of the town’s woodsmen. He was maybe sixteen years old, if that, and he really had no business putting in a challenge for her hand in the first place.
“So if I don’t do something, then Fenris is just going to let Rafe kill twenty of his wolves?”
Fenris chose that moment to exchange a look with Chloe.
“Is he talking to you?” Alisha asked, hoping maybe there was another rule on the books that could get them all out of this mess.
But Chloe shook her head. “No, he’s not saying anything to me, but I’m pretty sure he’s hoping you step in, because it doesn’t look like Rafe’s going to back down.”
Erli was now edging toward a crazy-eyed Rafe, his clawed hands in front of him, his mouth clamped shut as if to protect his tongue.
Alisha cursed. Then apologized to the puppy in her arms for cursing. Then she stepped into the fighting space. “Fine,” she called out in her terrible Norse accent. “I am the mate of Rafe. I want him above all wolves and will obey him from now on.”
Fenris smiled and called something back to her. She only caught a few words of it, but guessed correctly that she needed to promise one more thing: “And I vow to marry him before the next full moon.”
Erli looked truly relieved and he quickly made his way out of the fighting space. But when Rafe turned to her, his eyes were just as feral and angry as they’d been before she’d given in.
The only people left in the fighting space, she now realized, were her, him, and a wolf puppy he’d never to met before.
ALISHA NEVER COWERED. That had long been the cornerstone of her personality, and, in her opinion, her most saving grace. But Rafe was looming over her now, shirtless and covered in blood and way more ripped than he’d been when they mated. It was cold, yes, but somehow it seemed like the wind biting into her face and blowing through her hair was coming off of him and not from the polar night.
She could practically feel her wolf curling into a protective ball inside of her. And her son whimpered in her arms, even while looking up at his father with blanket curiosity.
“You give in?” he asked her in English.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice tight with tears. “No more killing.”
If he had any remorse about what he’d just done, it didn’t show on his face. “You’ll come back with me.”
“Yes,” she said, working hard to keep her gaze locked in to his. “We’ll come back with you.”
He nodded, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen them. “Fine, I accept your surrender.”
He reached for the puppy in her arms, and before she could think about it, she yanked him back from Rafe, holding on to him with a mother’s fierce hug of protection.
Not her best move, as it more than anything else she’d done or said today set Rafe off. He took a menacing step forward, roaring. “He’s my son, Alisha, the one you kept from me for five years!”
Suddenly, the two other non-red puppies, one black and tan, one just black, broke from the cub pack. They got between Rafe and Alisha, barking their angry yips at him. One even nipped at Rafe’s ankles, causing him to rear back.
“Oh, my God, no don’t!” Alisha cried to the pups, then to Rafe, she said, “Please don’t hurt them, they’re just trying to protect me. They don’t know any better.”
Rafe gave her a contemptuous look. “I wouldn’t hurt a child—”
But he cut off with a loud yell when the black and tan pup sank his teeth into Rafe’s ankle and wouldn’t let go.
The other black puppy ran to stand in the space between Rafe and Alisha before crouching down with a menacing growl, as if to warn Rafe that there would be another puppy he’d have to go through if he shook off the one on his ankle. Meanwhile the black and tan puppy in Alisha’s arms was also going crazy, yipping loudly, while trying to squirm out of her hold.
“What the…?” Rafe said, trying to shake the puppy off his leg, but to Alisha’s relief, not too hard.
“Rafesson, stop,” she said to the puppy at his ankle. “He’s not going to hurt me. Please let him go.”
Their son gave Rafe’s ankle one last shake before he went to join the black puppy, growling with teeth-baring menace, and of course that made the puppy in her arms stop and growl right along with them.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed, the irritant of having a wolf cub’s teeth lodged into his ankle obviously disappearing under the new mystery of why she was referring to the dog that had just bitten him as Rafesson. “If this is Rafesson,” he asked. “Who’s that in your arms?”
And this was when Alisha actually felt a little sorry for Rafe, because after traveling back in time, and fighting not one but two Viking warriors who wished to claim her as their own, he’d probably thought there were no more surprises to be had.
However…
She winced. “Ah, this is Nago. Short for Nagojut, but we all call him Nago.” She nodded at the growling puppy standing between them. “And that’s Knud.”
Rafe went very still then. “You mated with another wolf?” His voice held all kinds of censure, which wasn’t surprising given that going into heat with another wolf while still paired with your original heat mate was considered a heinous crime amongst their kind. In some cultures, it was even punishable by death.
But Alisha shook her head. “No, that’s illegal here, too. And even if I’d mated with another wolf, then I would have been compelled to also name the first born after the father.”
Now his face went from angry to confused, obviously unable to process what she was trying to gently tell him. So she just came right out and said it to him straight. “Nago’s your son, too. Your youngest. And Knud is your second born.”
Then she shrugged big and wry like an eighties sitcom character and said, “Congrats, Rafe. We had triplets.”
17
The plan had been for Grady to wait no more than three weeks. And if Rafe didn’t return within that time, Grady was under strict instructions to go back down the mountain and tell Dale what had happened to his only son. Rafe knew Grady had been uneasy with the plan, not only because of the possibility of Rafe not coming back, but also the prospect of having to tell the retired king he would need to come out of retirement and bury his son without a body, because Rafe had taken such a stupid risk going back in time for Alisha.
But as it was, Grady was still setting up their campsite when Alisha, Rafe, and (he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around this), all three of their sons, came flying out of the portal.
It was a rough landing with both Alisha and Rafe hitting the ground with a hard thud while his sons, who were still in wolf form, tumbled out of Alisha’s arms and rolled across the soft blanket of mountain snow. The snow was a sharp, painful shock against his naked torso. But at least the sun was shining above and he could see his surroundings without having to depend on his night vision.
Rafe quickly climbed to his feet, brushing off snow as he did so.
Grady stared at them all, the tent pole dropping out of his hands. Then his eyes went from Rafe to the three wolf pups, shaking snow off their furry bodies. It would have been adorable if the whole situation wasn’t so batshit crazy.
Rafe didn’t bother with an explanation. “Plan’s still the same. Take her to Chloe’s.”
Grady nodded, no questions asked, and Alisha, who was just getting to her feet, gasped when his beta grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her away, “Wait, what’s going on? Where are you taking me?”
Their three puppies started barking as soon as Grady started hauling their mother away. This time, however, Alisha didn’t let them get far enough to bite his sheriff.
She ripped her arm from Grady’s grip and bent down to address them. “It’s okay, this man is what we call a sheriff, and he’s the village’s beta. He won’t hurt me,” she promised them, though she couldn’t have possibly known that for sure. She threw Rafe an angry, judging look over their heads as she said this next thing. “Go with your father. He’s the Fenris of this place, and I’m sure he will treat you well.”
Wolf and Prejudice (The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 2) Page 13
