by Kate Pearce
His lip curling up to bare his fangs, he growled, “I am resisting the urge to drag you to the floor and mount you.”
That mental image made hot fluids slick her sex. His nostrils flared and she knew he could smell how wet she was. His gray eyes turned an incandescent silver, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“I suggest you hurry, Bryn.”
Normally, that would prompt her to go slower, just for the sheer joy of teasing him. But she found she couldn’t wait either. Picking up the pace, she strode into the bathroom, and made quick work with the toothbrush. Then she moved to the bathtub and bent to turn on the shower. She knew the position would be too much temptation for him, and she grinned when his palms curved over her butt.
She laughed quietly. “Are you naked yet, Erik?”
“Stripped on my way to the bathroom.” His fangs nipped at the top of one buttock, and she couldn’t help an inelegant yelp. He licked the spot he’d bitten. “You just didn’t look back.”
“You suggested I hurry,” she pointed out, glancing over her shoulder. “That means I don’t stop and ogle. One or the other, sweetheart.”
Instead of replying, he scooped her up in his arms and stepped under the stream of warm water. It sluiced down their bodies, slipping over her breasts and making her shudder. He set her on her feet, making sure every inch of her slid against him as he let her down. His chest hair stimulated her nipples and they beaded tighter. The steam curled around them, dewing their skin further. Somehow that made the moment even more intimate, the mist shutting the rest of the world away, dampening the sounds even her sensitive ears could pick up. Everything turned soft and sensual.
She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, savoring the feel of his hard body against hers. The shower spray hit her hair, sleeking the locks into a wet sheet down her back.
The noise he made was one of pure need. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
Opening her eyes, she shook her head, ran a fingertip down his nose, and tapped the tip. “I’m pretty enough, but you’ve met women who were more beautiful. Your wife was. Kata is.”
“None can match you in my eyes.” His expression was reverent.
Her heart cinched, but she didn’t know how to respond to that, so she drew his head down and kissed him, telling him with actions how his words moved her. She loved him so much. Always had, always would, no matter how she might have fought it or denied it.
He tasted like coffee and sugar and Erik. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, wanting more of that addicting flavor. She couldn’t get enough, didn’t want to. His lips played over hers, hot possession and slow seduction. She strained against him, wanting nearer, wanting everything he had to give. His thick cock rode into the curve of her lower belly, close to where she needed it, but not close enough. He pressed her against the slippery tile wall, and she curled a leg around his hip, opening herself for him. She tilted her hips in blatant invitation, but he continued to kiss her leisurely, even though she could feel the hard urgency of his need.
Why was he suddenly hesitating?
Extending her talons, she pricked them into his shoulders. She felt him smile against her lips, and she chuckled into his mouth, smacking her palm lightly against the back of his skull. He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “I love making you laugh and smile.”
“You’ve mentioned that,” she answered dryly. Then she slipped a hand between them and twirled a finger around the flat disc of his nipple. His breath caught and he groaned. She pinched and twisted, using the same slow precision with which he’d kissed her. “I love making you want me so much you lose control.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek and she could see the pounding of his pulse at the base of his throat. His voice was a wolfish rumble when he spoke, “You’ve always been able to drive me wild, Bryn.”
“Good,” she purred, flicking her thumbnail against his nipple. “But if you were really wild, Erik, you’d be inside me now, fucking me so hard my eyes rolled back.”
“You’ve been in a coma.” He swallowed, but his burning quicksilver eyes betrayed how much he struggled to maintain his restraint. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she whispered. “Magical healing is miraculous that way.”
Curving her hands over his broad shoulders, she used him as leverage to wrap both legs around his waist. A quick arch of her back and she’d taken his cock deep inside her. He gasped and she let loose a throaty moan. The fit was as perfect as always, the way he stretched her was beyond amazing. Still she managed a small grin. “See? Not hurt. Just wanting you to take me exactly the way I like.” She brushed little kisses over his chin, the corner of his mouth. “Fast…hard…deep…”
The sound that issued from his chest was like a human volcano erupting. His hands gripped her ass with bruising force and he began to piston in and out of her pussy. The shower poured over them, hot beads of water streaking down their skin. It was like being caressed over every inch of her body, the silky feel of liquid plus the rough satin of his flesh.
But it was his expression that made her burn for more. He was flushed with heat and lust, his fangs bared in feral display, but his gaze was more open and tender than she’d ever seen it. So much love was there—an ocean of it, enough to last a million lifetimes. Her heart tripped and hammered against her ribs. Emotion and sensation swept through her as he pounded into her sex. Orgasm beckoned, her pussy contracting every time he filled into her. They moved together, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. Tingles swept over her skin, excitement and need twining within her.
She let him see what she felt, didn’t try to hide it from him or herself. No other man had ever suited her as well as him, no other man had ever challenged her the way he had. They would never be perfect people, but they were as perfect for each other now as they had been the day they’d met.
“It really does get better every time.” He grinned at her, flashing his dimple as he ground his pelvis into her clit.
“Yes,” she gasped. In response to his statement or his actions, even she didn’t know, but she tumbled over into climax just the same. Her channel clenched around him, and still she looked at him, let him see it all. How he turned her inside out with pleasure, how he made her feel. His chest hair rasped against her nipples, and the way he kept thrusting into her made orgasm build again, hot and swift, until she careened over that edge again. Her nails dug into his shoulders, a sob ripping out of her. “Erik!”
“I love you,” he groaned, shuddered, and then jetted come inside her. His gaze remained locked with hers, and she saw ecstasy sharpen his features. Low groans spilled from him as he continued rocking into her pussy.
They stayed that way for a long time, their heart rates and breathing slowing, just looking at each other, savoring the chance to be together. She’d come so close to never having this opportunity again. It wasn’t until the shower grew chilly and her legs began to cramp that she slipped her feet to the tub floor.
“My Erik.” She pulled him down for a kiss, trailing her fingers down his cheek, his jaw, the back of his neck. When they broke apart, his lips formed a soft smile. She tweaked his chin and winked at him. “Damn, the water’s freezing.”
She reached over and twisted the knob to turn off the shower, then stepped out to towel off. He followed her, and they went through their grooming routines. It was odd to have someone else’s toiletries next to hers, to share her personal space with another human being. Odd, yes, but still good. She could definitely get used to this. It was a little scary to consider getting used to having him and then losing him again, but she’d already come far too close to never seeing him again. He’d have been here or in Valhalla, and she’d have been locked in with Hel. Forever. Maybe Bryn would have died valorously in battle, but with Odin and Freya missing in action, Bryn had no doubts about Hel using Bryn’s death as a way to imprison her in Niflheim. Frey wanted to stop Erik and her from repopulating the planet af
ter Ragnarök, and his allies would probably have happily kept that plan on track whether the god was dead or not.
But it was Frey who’d be stuck in Niflheim for all eternity. His treachery wouldn’t go unnoticed in Asgard, and he wouldn’t be welcomed back. Good riddance.
Erik’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “What are you thinking about?”
“You. Frey. Everything.” She leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “But mostly you.”
“We lost a lot of time we could have spent together, you and I.” He didn’t say that the minutes they had left might be limited, but she saw in his expression that he was thinking it.
She hesitated. “It took a long while to get to a place where I could cope with what had happened. Acceptance takes time, and it can’t be rushed.”
“A thousand years?” His eyebrows went up.
“Maybe not quite that long,” she conceded. “But I don’t think either of us wanted to approach the other, given the circumstances of our last meeting. Fate in the form of Nauma had to give us a push. Or you, rather.”
Even with a völva pushing, Bryn wasn’t sure she’d have been convinced to go near him. Not unless Freya forced her to. It was probably best he’d been the one Nauma prodded. Stubbornness had served Bryn well through her long life, though she usually knew when to bend. But for good or ill, she’d always had a blind spot where Erik was concerned. Just by existing, he made her react, made her feel. That meant she lost some of her control, but it also meant there was one person who could make sure that she never turned into to a cold, empty shell. Some immortals did, and as uncomfortable as emotions could be, she wanted to feel them.
Especially when it came to him.
Turning away from the vanity, she held out her hand to him and they walked hand-in-hand to the bed. She lay on her side, and he dropped onto his back next to her. He turned his head and met her gaze, something troubled in those silver depths. “Bryn…”
She ran a fingertip along his brow. “Yes?”
“I almost lost you,” he croaked. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, and he scowled. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. You’re not allowed to die on me, do you hear? I forbid it.”
She smiled then, a huge, brilliant smile. The one she knew he liked best. “I love you, too.”
The sound that escaped him was a sob tangled with a laugh. “I love you so fucking much, Bryn. Never leave me again.”
“Never willingly,” she agreed, resting her chin on his chest. “If you promise the same.”
He cupped her cheek. “I swear it.”
Because she was a realist, and happiness was so often an ephemeral thing, she said, “Death continues to nip at our heels, Erik. Ragnarök still threatens.”
“I know, hjartað mitt, but we stand together now.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “It’s only when we’ve been turned against each other that we’ve ever fallen.”
“True.” They’d be a hell of a lot harder to pit against each other ever again. That was one lesson she knew they’d both learned well.
They’d made a lot mistakes—they’d hurt each other and hurt themselves and they would likely do so again. Hopefully not as deeply as they once had, but love wasn’t easy. It was hard, it was painful, it was beautiful, it was sweet.
She might not be ready to put her faith in love, but she trusted him. It had taken close to forever, but she finally trusted him not to hurt her deliberately. Gods help anyone who ever doped him up with a forgetting potion again. She’d kill the bitch in a hot second. Maybe that was too bloodthirsty for modern sensibilities, but she was a Viking after all. Her people weren’t exactly known for their peaceful solutions to problems.
His expression turned fierce, the grip of his fingers painfully tight. “Stay with me, in life and in death, if that’s what comes for us.”
“Until death and beyond,” she vowed. “I love you.”
THE END
Want more from Crystal Jordan? Join her mailing list here. And turn the page for an excerpt from Roman Reunion.
MORE FROM CRYSTAL JORDAN
Crystal Jordan is originally from California, but has lived and worked all over the United States as a university librarian. An award winning author, Crystal has published contemporary, paranormal, futuristic, and erotic romance with Kensington Aphrodisia, Harlequin Spice Briefs, Ellora’s Cave, and Samhain Publishing.
Crystal also loves connecting with readers on social media:
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Recent Books by Crystal Jordan
Twilight of the Gods Series
Viking Fire
Viking Captive (coming Spring 2015)
Destination: Desire Series
Vegas Vacation
Hawaiian Holiday
Italian Interlude
Roman Reunion
Alaskan Adventure (coming December 2014)
Forbidden Passions Series
Stolen Passions
Fleeting Passions
Illicit Passions
Enjoy the following excerpt from Roman Reunion:
Karen had forgotten how vibrant Rome was, especially the narrow, sloping alleys that made up the Trastevere rione where she’d gone to college and where Valentina and Gio still lived. Karen had always loved it here. The rush of cars at a breakneck speed they’d never dare in America, the mass of people from all over the world who’d come to visit, the historic architecture, museums and monuments. She dragged in a breath…and the tantalizing aroma of Italian food hit her nose. There was a restaurant on the bottom floor of Gio and Valentina’s building. Karen’s mouth watered, her stomach growled and she was forcefully reminded that it would be breakfast time if she were in California. A nine-hour time difference could really mess a body up.
Her old friends lived on the top floor, so Karen had stepped outside on the balcony to escape the wedding preparation madness. She was fairly certain every single female relative of Valentina’s had managed to cram themselves into the apartment. And they were loud and boisterous and happy. But mostly loud.
Glancing at her watch, she saw it was well past time when she could check into her hotel. It took her half an hour to say goodbye to everyone because they all insisted on a hug and a kiss from her, told her how much they liked her new hairstyle, insisted she come back for dinner. Finally, Valentina laughed, grabbed Karen’s elbow and thrust her out the door or she might never have escaped. She was still grinning when she hit the bottom of the staircase and entered the lobby.
And slammed into someone trying to go up the stairs. She stumbled back, an apology on her lips, but it never formed as her gaze collided with her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s.
“Tate,” she said faintly, falling back another step. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
The flash of utter shock on his face told her he’d had no idea they would both be in Rome either. He cleared his throat. “The same thing you are, I’d imagine. Attending an old friend’s wedding.”
There was no way he’d had any more notice on the invitation than she’d had, which meant he’d done something spontaneous for the first time in years. She crossed her arms. “You dropped everything, just like that? You?”
He snorted. “Got one too many calls from Dad the night Gio invited me, so I ran away from home.”
The mere glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. “About time.”
Shaking his head, he huffed out a laugh. His gaze flitted over her. “You changed your hair.”
“Yes.” She flicked the tips with her fingers. “A new look to start my new life. I like it.”
He winced. She tried not to cringe because, really, she hadn’t meant to rub his face in it. It was just the standard response she’d come up with every time someone asked why she’d cut it.
Then there was an awkward moment where she had no idea what to say. She hadn’t expected to see him, didn’t have a list of banal conversational topics ready to save her from uncomfortable silences. �
��Uh…okay.” She glanced aside. “I need to go check in to my hotel. I, um, guess I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
“Yes.” He let her get halfway across the lobby before he called out. “Out of curiosity, which hotel are you staying at?”
“The Gianicolo.”
“Me too.” An ironic smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “Giovanni recommended it to you too, huh?”
She pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “I may have to murder him.”
“Not if I beat you to it.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he waved her off. “See you at dinner.”
“Bye.”
Then they went their separate ways. As usual.
AT THE VIKING’S COMMAND
by
Anne Marsh
Anne-Marsh.com | Facebook | Mailing List
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Welcome to Warriors Unleashed! At the Viking’s Command is the second story in my new paranormal series. Although it can be read standalone, it has two companion stories: Viking’s Orders and Bound by the Viking. I’m particularly excited about At the Viking’s Command because it has werewolves! If you know me, you know I like my werewolves hot, alpha and bad boy to the bone (Blue Moon Brides werewolves…I’m looking at you!). To stay in touch and for free books, please join my mailing list.
~ Anne
BEFORE
Killing was the easy part.
It was the fucking incarceration he didn’t like.
Crouched on the floor of his cell, Calder tested the bars as he’d done every day for the last month. The steel-reinforced iron didn’t give and the drugs pumping through his veins left him too weakened to shift into his bear form. He’d stay here until his captors dragged him out for the night’s fight, only to shoot him full of another damned drug and dump him in the pit to face off against a paranormal opponent who hadn’t signed up for hand-to-hand with a Viking berserker. Like the last night and a seemingly endless string of nights before that, he would take down the other fighter, sometimes even without going berserk and shifting into his bear form. Because fighting was the one thing he did well. Fuck.
