Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) (11 page)

“Good,” she said, her eyes dead ahead. “And how’d it go delivering supplies?”

“Good. The outer villages now have plenty of food.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Loki’s cock. Have you had enough of good yet, brother?”

Raknar chuckled.
“Get out of my head, Naðr.”

Veronica’s eyes flickered over him as they walked. “What’s so funny?”

“Funny?”

“You just laughed.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.” She eyed him dubiously but decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I know I said it before but you’ve done a really great job raising Heidrek. He’s pretty awesome.”

Awesome? A word he only knew because of Megan. “Thank you. It seems he feels the same way about you.”

“I hope so.”

For the hundredth time, Veronica's words made him think about her lying on his bed before she’d fallen asleep. How she curled on her side and cried softly. What she clearly didn’t remember was that he held her, tried to soothe her. When he asked why she was so sad, she simply murmured, “My son.”

Megan had never mentioned anything about Veronica having a son and he wasn’t about to pry. He respected privacy. Yet it hadn’t kept him from staring out at the dark sea over the majority of the past nine nights wondering what she meant. Wondering about the heartache she carried. Even so, he would not ask unless she offered the information.

Though he was about to say more, perhaps ease the tension between them, time ran out when they reached the end of the dock. Kjar met them and flung his arm around Raknar’s shoulders, eyes fond. “Good to have you back, cousin.”

Raknar quirked his lips. “No hunt for you then?”

Challenge entered Kjar’s eyes. “Not this eve. Next time, hel yes. From here to Valhalla then back.”

Veronica smiled at them then made to step away, but Raknar caught her wrist. When her surprised eyes met his, he said, “Kjar will stay with you until I get back. Then you’re mine.”

“I’m not sure why I feel the need to wear pants again,” Veronica mumbled.

“Hmm.” Megan snorted. “Couldn’t have anything to do with Raknar being back.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Veronica shot as she adjusted the tunic he’d bought her then shook her head, untied it and flung it away. “I don’t want to wear this.”

“Right, because it’d look far too obvious.”

“Obvious?”

Megan rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Veronica’s most recent purchase dangled from her fingertips. “Go on. You know you wanna wear it.”

Veronica eyed the forest green sleeveless tunic with appreciation. “So naughty.”

“Yes it is,” Megan agreed, a twinkle in her eyes. “But there’s been no sign of that sleazeball, Hamdir so I think you’ll be all right.”

There would be nothing
all right
about wearing this tunic in front of Raknar. At least not the way she intended. Nonetheless, if she missed nothing else about the twenty-first century it was her own sense of fashion so she only hesitated a moment before snagging it from her sister.

Megan nodded at the bed with a devious gleam in her eyes. “To go with your specially fashioned pants and boots of course.”

“Naturally,” she agreed as she pulled on the pants first. Scandinavia at this time of year was chilly but humid enough that as long as a bonfire was lit, the outfit might just work. And label her insane for wearing it. As she tied up the snug tan leather pants then cinched the cleavage revealing fitted sleeveless tunic with nothing beneath, Veronica for a split second felt like an inkling of the New Yorker she’d become.

By the time she yanked on the specially made crème colored, knee high boots with fur trim and tied up her hair in a becoming twist of braids and free falling hair, she felt downright fabulous.

She lightly lined her eyes with charcoal then drew a small flourish of delicate vines on her collarbone. After that, she dabbed a bit of pink on her lips and attached long, dangly green earrings made of tiny seashells fashioned to look like leaves.

“Well?” she asked Megan, spinning once then arching a brow.

Megan put a hand over her mouth and shook her head.

“What? Too much?” But Veronica didn’t care if it was.

“Too much? Hard to say. Do you look out of this world crazy amazing? Hell yeah.” Megan’s brows drew down and she shook her head. “One thing’s for sure, you’re making Raknar’s job a lot harder than you made Kol’s.”

Making Raknar hard wasn’t such a bad thing. Veronica groaned. Not what she meant to think. “Raknar’s
job
hard. Right. Not my intention.”

Megan’s lips twisted into a half-smile. “Poor guy.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who reassigned him to keep an eye on me. He apparently did that himself.”

“Kol needed a break.”

“Sure he did.” Veronica wasn’t oblivious. She had watched Kol go into a steady decline from the moment he was tasked with watching over her. Did he continue to flirt shamelessly? Of course. Yet something changed and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Either way, it worked in her favor and made getting to know the guy beneath all the lustiness that much easier. “No worries, Sis. Kol truly is a cut above the rest.” She met her sister’s eyes. “But…is he okay? Really?”

Megan hesitated a fraction of a second, but it was enough. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’s just under a lot of pressure.”

Right. The whole repressed dragon thing which she still didn’t believe but was sick of saying as much.

The king released a low whistle as he entered the holding, his gaze roaming over both women with appreciation before he pulled Megan into his arms and proceeded to kiss the life right out of her.

Veronica had grown far more comfortable with Naðr over the past nine days and enjoyed their numerous conversations. She couldn’t help but appreciate that he took the time to get to know her better. Something Megan’s ex-husband had never bothered to do.

As it turned out, Naðr Véurr wasn’t half the bully he initially struck her as. If anything, he had a surprisingly pleasant sense of dry humor and a remarkably intelligent mind which Veronica could wholly appreciate. But what she had come to like most about him was the thorough and unaffected way he adored her sister. Megan was put on a pedestal. A place she deserved to be. A place she should have been put long ago.

After he had his fill of Megan, the king sauntered around Veronica, eyeing her up and down with appreciation before he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “What are you trying to do to my poor brother, woman?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” She shrugged. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to go from New York to here?” Then an unintended smirk curled her lips. “I’m just trying to get by, my friend.”

“Get by,” Naðr murmured but he offered a smirk in return. “You must cause a lot of trouble in this New York.”

“Naw.” She winked at Megan. “I stay outta trouble.”

More than most.

Veronica thought of her high-rise apartment with the sprawling city surrounding her beyond wall to wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. The safety and solace found from behind the glass as she gazed at everything that couldn’t touch her unless she wanted it to.

Since arriving here, she had spent ample time standing on the shore staring at the stars. In an era without electricity, they were astounding and widespread. Bright and strewn, they were more impressive than New York’s midnight skyline. The only difference? The glass between her and the world didn’t exist. It didn’t have to.

Because now, approximately one thousand, one hundred twenty-nine years stood between her and her pain. In the warped reality she found herself, 2007 had yet to happen and somehow that helped.

As if he sensed her change of thought, Naðr took her hand and squeezed. When her eyes shot to his, he released one of those warm smiles he usually reserved for Megan, his voice soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re here. So are my brothers. You’re as good a woman as your sister.”

Flattered, caught off guard, she didn’t know what else to say but, “Thanks. You guys aren’t so bad yourselves.”

“Right,” Megan echoed.

Naðr gave Veronica an unexpected hug before he pulled away then scooped Megan against him, his lips brushing her temple. She loved the way they loved each other. It was different than anything she’d seen back home. Real. Blatant. Honest. Never-ending.

His lips hitched up as his eyes went from Megan to Veronica. “Raknar lived up to his name. Wait until you see the buck he downed.”

Never a huge fan of hunting, Veronica shrugged. The bonus to this day and age was that they didn’t kill and toss aside. Every part of an animal was put to good use to warm and feed the people. Nothing went to waste.

Naðr slid his arm into Megan’s and held out the crook of his elbow to Veronica. “Come. Let us join the Walpurgisnacht festivities.”

So it was that the King joined his people at the great bonfire with Megan on one arm and Veronica the other. Everyone was rowdier than ever as they revved up for Odin to behold the Runes. Like Megan said, when the patriarch god grasped them at midnight, he supposedly died for an instant. When he did, all the light in the Nine Worlds was extinguished and chaos reigned. At the final stroke of midnight, the light returned in brilliance. Then the bale-fires were lit and the dead had full sway upon the earth.

Drums pounded. Waves crashed. Sea salt rode the wind. The smell of smoke and brine saturated the chilled air. The sky once more burst with a million bright stars, a brilliant swath of light over dozens upon dozens of docked ships.

They no sooner joined the wide ring of celebrating people around the massive fire when her eyes found Raknar. He must’ve recently splashed water over his head because liquid ran in gleaming rivulets over his jaw then down his nude, well-muscled torso. With nothing but black leather from the waist down, it was obvious he’d recently come back from the hunt. Fire and promise lit his pale blue eyes when they locked with hers.

Veronica’s heart thudded into her throat as she held his gaze. The nine days he was gone had felt like a lifetime. While she could tell herself again and again she hadn’t dressed for him tonight, she would be a lying fool. She had
liked
the way he looked at her the last time she wore pants and though she knew it wasn’t good for either of them, she was unavoidably addicted to his desire for her.

Enough so that she was willing to make the same mistake twice.

Minus the heavy drinking.

So when Megan handed her a skin of mead, she only took a small sip. Thank God Kjar had trudged into the mountains every other day to make sure she drank nothing but water, for the most part. Sure, she had a sip of ale here and there but not much. The stuff was brutal.

Kol was nowhere to be found, but Veronica pretty much figured he needed a breather. She knew she did. Not to say he hadn’t turned out to be wonderful. Because he had. He was. But her initial feelings toward him were correct.

He wasn’t for her.

At least not romantically.

Yet it had been the days she’d spent with him that had loosened her up considerably. Kol had continued to remind her so much of how Sean was before his accident three years prior. He was charming and fun and, who knew, pretty damn smart. She connected with him in a way she never expected. Once he realized he wouldn’t be ‘getting any’ he turned into the perfect gentleman and escort.

For the most part.

Save the haunted look in his eyes that seemed to grow day by day.

“Come, my King, let’s dance,” Megan purred as she took Naðr’s hands and started to sway backward toward the fire.

Naðr wasted no time following, a less-than-apologetic look tossed over his shoulder before he yanked Megan against him and they entered their own world.

Veronica smiled when a soft muzzle pushed against her hand and Megan’s dog, Guardian plunked down beside her. Naturally, Heidrek came up on her other side, arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the fire. “Father really likes you.”

His stutter was completely gone when they were alone now and she couldn’t be more pleased. He had taken her advice and was advancing far faster than she expected. If that wasn’t enough, Heidrek allowed her to help him practice endlessly on her. Still, he caught on fast. Then again, he was a strong boy and Raknar’s son so she wasn't all that shocked.

Heidrek had become her number one friend here and they’d spent a great deal of time together. She’d made a point of avoiding children since she lost her son but being around Heidrek was unexpectedly comforting. “Your father is a nice man.”

Heidrek pressed his lips together, but his eyes were soft when he said, “He is but does not know how to show it all the time.” His eyes went to hers. “You are nice for saying so though.”

Veronica wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Like you, he just needs to start seeing things differently when he talks to people.”

Heidrek said nothing but she knew he understood. He nuzzled against her side then pulled away. “Come Guardian. Let us go find some meat.”

Then he was gone and Raknar was heading in her direction.

Though tempted to take a healthy swig from her skin, she didn’t. Instead, Veronica stood up straighter and waited for him to approach. Believe it or not, she had never seen Raknar look quite as intent as he did at this moment. As if the devil was coming for her soul, but he’d get there faster. Purposeful, focused, he strode up to her. Before she could say a word, he yanked her against him.

Not a kiss.

Not quite.

But so very close.

Eyes nearly shut; his mouth hovered centimeters from hers, his hot breath a whisper over her lips. It was as if they were reliving that moment when he first pulled her down onto the Drekkar ship. Save now they were far closer, unparalleled need pulsating and palpable between them, like a living, breathing thing.

“Raknar,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Her eyes slid shut. His lips came closer, hovered, rested against hers but didn’t move. Nothing existed but the feel of him against her. A renewed fire, a blatant want that had been there since the moment they first laid eyes on one another.

A shiver raced through her.

Lightning fast, he dug one hand into her hair and the other around the side of her neck. Still they didn’t move. Lips close. Breath mingling. Heat didn’t just flare but roared between them, an untouchable element made to mock, to accentuate the place both fought but needed so very much.

Somehow they were better at this. Wanting but not taking. Needing but avoiding. Pushing but not going all the way. Yet they had that in common. An unwillingness to scale the walls they’d erected.

His lips moved away and his cheek pressed against hers, his whisper close to her ear. “Come. Dance with me, woman.”

In any century.

Raknar gave her no chance to respond before they moved closer to the fire and she was in his arms, her body swaying slowly against his. Veronica dropped the skin of mead, not interested in her drink as she floated, lost. Just like she had been that first night. Gone within his arms.