The Viking Wants Forever

THE VIKING WANTS FOREVER

Title Page

Koko Brown

The Viking Wants Forever | Koko Brown

Blurb

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

EPILOGUE

TAKEN | By Koko Brown

About the Author

T
his e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

––––––––

C
opyright © June 2015 by Koko Brown

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Published in the United States of America

Editor: Andrew Duncan

Cover Artist: Syneca at Original Syn [email protected]

A
Love Frozen In Time...

Reese Johnson yearns for a life other than the world of drudgery she’s settled for as the manager of Gotham City Comics. What’s that they say? Be careful what you wish for? Well that’s a motto Reese should have tattooed across her forehead. Because Loki, the Norse god of mischief, has just the remedy for the boring life of this woman who denounces his existence.

His recipe for disaster?

Take a 30 year-old woman and send her back in time as a pawn for revenge. Couple her with Eirik Sigurdsson, a Viking Warlord, too arrogant and baggage-laden to be of any use for anything, but battle and bed. Mix thoroughly, folding in a heavy dose of pride, a tyrannical king, and a sympathetic goddess. Bake at high until a white-hot love is unleashed and then forever frozen in time.

I
would like to dedicate this story to my readers for all the kind words and support throughout my career. 

M
erritt Island, FL

Today was Reese Johnson’s tenth anniversary. For 3,650 days she’d settled for less. Put her dreams on the back burner, while helping someone else build theirs. 

What happened to the young dreamer who thirsted for adventure and fantasized of one day becoming a graphic novelist?

Of course, Reese had no immediate plans of leaving her job as the general manager of The Comic League. She just wanted to be properly paid for the blood, sweat and tears she’d poured into making the store the largest independent peddler of comic books and graphic novels in the Southeast.

Armed with all the reasons she deserved a raise, Reese punched in the numbers 2-7-7, which also spelled out A-S-S. 

“Ali here,” her employer barked on the other end.

“Mr. Majeed,” even after all these years, Reese didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his first name. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but today’s my ten year anniversary.”

Reese paused, giving him the opportunity to offer his congratulations. There were none, just silence on the other end.

Before she lost her nerve, Reese rushed forward. “I-I’ve worked for you for ten years andand I’d like to think I’ve contributed to building your company from a small flea market stall to a ten thousand square foot megastore. It was even my idea to organize the inaugural So-Con comic convention.”

“So what are you gettin’ at?” he snapped. His high pitch utterances reminded Reese of a Chihuahua.

Reese licked her lips. Fearful and anxious, she was breathing so hard they were starting to chap. “I deserve a raise.”

Boom!
She’d done it! Proud of her tenacity, she grinned from ear to ear.

“How much of a raise you talkin’?”

“A three dollar increase.” The boost in pay would sit her squarely at thirty-thousand a year after taxes.

“Three dollars!” Majeed yipped. “Are you outta your flippin’ mind?”

Reese decided to grow a pair. “Not in the least, Mr. Majeed,” she countered. “I’m a valuable asset to your company. Without me, you’d still be pushing comic books out of Remmington Flea Market.” She was being a little over-presumptuous, but her ideas had helped to grow The Comic League into a regional powerhouse.

“You might have a great pair of tits and ass, but those geeks and freaks aren’t coming in for you, Miss Johnson.”

Quite a few
were
coming in for her, Reese suspected. A few years back, she ran across her fandom, which numbered in the hundreds, in a Girls We’d Cosplay With forum. Of course, Reese would go to her grave before she pointed that out to this cheap misogynist. She wanted a salary increase for her contributions to The Comic League, not because the customers voted her 36DDs the Mount Olympus of Brevard County.

“The customers value
my
expert opinion.”

“Yeah...well...unfortunately, I can’t squeeze another penny. With the store revamp and all for the realty show...”

Reese bit the inside of her cheek. She knew all about the renovations. She’d been the one to broker the deal with a local production company to film the pilot, which caught the interest of PixelTV. And, she’d hired the contractor to meet the network’s specifications for filming.

Suddenly lightheaded, and more than a little dejected, Reese hustled off the phone. “I’m not going to take up any more of your time. I need—”

“You’re not going to do something crazy like burn the store down, are you?” he interjected.

Reese imagined the five thousand or so comic books would be a great catalyst for a bonfire of epic proportions. It would serve the selfish bastard right. He hadn’t stepped foot in the store in years, leaving the day-to-day operation in her hands. But she wouldn’t do anything to damage The Comic League. The store was more her baby than his.

Still, she decided to let him shit in his pants. Without answering, Reese disconnected the call then jammed her cell in her jean pocket. As she took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves, she lifted her gaze to the darkening sky. The sun was quickly setting and gray, angry clouds had started to roll in from the beachside.

“Hey, loser.” Leaning out the store’s automatic door entrance, sporting skinny jeans and a rumpled Atari t-shirt that had seen better days, Allen McNeal her BFF and assistant store manager, wore a lopsided grin. Since she’d left him in the dark regarding her plans to ask for a raise, he was woefully oblivious to her present predicament. Still, it didn’t lessen the sting.

Reese knew she couldn’t fault anyone but herself. Born with a thin skin, she’d settled all her life, passing up more opportunities than a cougar practicing celibacy in Manhattan during Fleet Week. Ever since she could remember, she’d allowed self-doubt to shackle her confidence. In grade school she consistently gave up her spot in the coveted sandbox for the puke-inducing merry-go-round. Her ninth grade year, she attempted to grow a pair by running for class secretary. Two signatures shy of turning in her nomination; she’d thrown the petition in the garbage when Nugent Mulligan refused to sign it because his parents were hippies and he didn’t believe in organized government.

College hadn’t been any different. Despite graduating at the top of her class from The Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale and her professors’ full support, she’d returned to her small hometown on the east coast of Florida instead of pursuing her dream job in a larger market.

And now, with no salary hike in sight, she still couldn’t dredge up enough courage to walk away from the security of a 9 to 5.

“You’re ruining your anniversary party.” Allen said, bringing her out of her thoughts. “The donuts are starting to go stale, and—”

“And you can’t start the game without me.” Resigned to her fate, Reese walked back inside.

“You said it not me.” He chuckled as he locked the doors behind her, and then flipped the closed sign.

“But I knew that’s where you were headed.”

Every Saturday night, after the store closed, they settled in to play the role playing game Castles and Keeps. She was rather surprised Allen waited so long to pull her back into the night’s festivities; their current adventure was pushing into its twelfth week and everyone had been jabbering about it for days.

Allen came up behind her and flung an arm around her shoulders. “Stop pretending you don’t enjoy being Aryan, the fierce Amazon warrior.”

Reese loved the kick-ass fighter who’d managed to remain alive through countless adventures. Through her, she’d been able to be and do what she could not in the real world. Still, she couldn’t shake the fact that role playing was simply another avoidance tactic. On more occasions than she could count, she’d opted to play the game rather than go home and work on her comic series.

Allen walked around the counter and took a seat, joining five other co-workers. Arms folded over an ample beer belly, Otis, stared up at the tray ceiling. Joanie play fought her ogre figurine against Paul’s wizard. Across from them, Melanie and Lawrence argued in Pig Latin.

I am a loser.

Not sensing the sudden change in her demeanor or the way she held back, Allen pulled out a stool for her. “We actually started without you, so the game’s on hold.”

Reese held back. If she sat down she was simply giving into a lifetime of duplicity.

“What’s wrong? Your seat have cooties?” asked Joanie, her part-time cashier and resident expert on trolls and elves.

Reese braced herself for the meltdown. “I’m not staying, gang. The store’s closed, and I’m beat.”

“Ah! Come on!” Allen objected over a bevy of groans peppered with a healthy dose of four-letter words. “We waited for you and now you’re going to bail?”

“I-I have other plans,” she lied.

“Like a hot date?” Paul, one of her stock boys and probably a regular contributor to her fandom, peeked at her shyly. If his face wasn’t filled with acne scars he’d be kind of cute.

“A hot date,” Allen guffawed. “The sixth plane of Hell will freeze over before that day comes.”

Reese picked up a donut and hurled it at him —hitting him squarely in the forehead. “Just because I want a life away from this mortuary doesn’t mean you have to be nasty, Allen. I thought we were besties.”

Allen wiped at the chocolate-flavored sprinkles dotting his forehead, “Well it’s no fun getting ditched either. The least you can do is roll the dice so Otis can kill you off,” he said pointing at a pair of green dice on the counter. “If you skip your turn, you’re putting the entire game on hold.”

He did have a point. Reese stepped forward and swiped up the dice. She shook them vigorously while Allen regaled Otis, the store’s cosplay aficionado and the group’s Castle Keeper, with a dozen gruesome ways to wipe her out of the game.

Of course, Otis didn’t need Allen’s help. His imagination, like the other four people hunched over the worn game board, knew no bounds. After some consideration, he set up the scene with her Amazon warrior scouting a rope bridge for booby traps.

“A rolling mist covers the bridge, so we’re unable to see three feet in front of us. Always the brave warrior, Aryan decides to transverse the unknown pathway alone. All goes well until you’re halfway across. The bridge suddenly dips and a battle cry rends the morning silence, echoes off the cliff walls. The mist slowly parts and you find yourself face to face with Skol, a fearsome berserker. What do you do?”

So not fair. Otis just had to hit her below the belt with her fetish for the Norse warriors who fought in a trance-like rage. Adrenaline pumping, Reese responded automatically, “I pull my broadsword from my belt, and ready my battle stance.” Right hand in the air, she crouched down.  She lowered her other hand, ready to accept her fate.

“Wait!” Otis grabbed her wrist. “You should pray to Loki and ask him to keep his hands out of this. He’s the ultimate God of Mischief, and this
is
an expedition into the wilds of Norway.”

Reese rolled her eyes. Otis took his role as castle keeper way too seriously. “I’m not praying to Loki or any other phony deity!” Reese grabbed onto the counter when a bolt of lightning hit the roof. The howling wind whipped the store’s black awnings against the front windows, the florescent lights flickered overhead, and her Amazon warrior figurine wobbled until it fell flat on its back.