Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) (3 page)

So they got down to business and less than an hour later, everything was signed and Sean officially owned the house and property. Grant was organizing the paperwork when he said, “Be verra careful if yer going out. I just came down via the Park Loop. Roads are messy.”

“I’ll bet.” Sean arched a brow. “The Park Loop?” He looked at Veronica. “Funny, Raven’s Nest is right off that.”

“Is it really?” There was that odd chill again.

Her thoughts twisted and turned as Grant shouldered into his jacket then shook their hands. “I’ll be in touch soon, Sean.”

“Thanks again.” Sean escorted him to the door.

All the while the ravens flickered in her mind’s eye. The coast. The cliffs. The longitude and latitude.

“Grant. Wait.” Veronica knew this was nuts, but opportunity had presented itself and she couldn’t help but take advantage. When he paused and turned back, she said, “Any chance you’re going back the way you came?”

“Aye, I am.”

“Super.” Veronica pulled on her jacket then grabbed her purse and cell phone. “Mind if I follow you for a ways? I’d like to check out Raven’s Nest.”

“Sure.”

“What? Really?” Amber frowned. “But you drove all day yesterday.”

“And now I'm well rested,” Veronica assured and followed Grant.

“Well, I’m coming too.”

“No.” She needed to go alone. Why, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that she had to go by herself. Veronica stopped at the door and turned back. Amber looked crestfallen so she took her hands and met her eyes. “I just need some alone time right now, okay little Sis?”

Amber pinched her lips together, worried. “You’ve had too much alone time. We need to spend time together. I miss you.”

Her heart broke at the pain in her sister’s voice. Nonetheless. “I won’t be gone long. Hang with Sean. When I get back, we’ll spend every moment of the next few days together, okay?”

Her sister’s frown only deepened. “Promise?”

She pulled her in for a hug. “You bet.”

Amber sighed when Veronica stepped back. “Text me when you get there and again when you’re heading back, all right?”

“Will do.” She looked at Sean. “Take good care of her. I’ll be back in no time.”

He nodded. “You know I will. Drive safe.”

She didn’t miss the tension around his eyes. As Amber likely did, he sensed that this was all a little too bizarre. Yet she had to go and see if Raven’s Nest was the place she’d dreamt about.

Twenty minutes later she was glad she’d decided to go because her headache was finally abating. Though she’d driven its outskirts before, Veronica never realized how beautiful Acadia National Park really was. 

Snow fell and like Grant warned, the roads were slick. So when he pulled over into what appeared to be a small rest area with signs for Raven’s Nest, she assumed that he was not only showing her where to go but needed to take a break. By the time she parked beside him and tucked her purse beneath the passenger seat, he was already out of his car…and walking away.

Where was he going?

Curious, she hopped out and followed. He had just vanished down a snowy path.

“Grant, wait!”

As it turned out, not only was the snow deeper but the path was steeper than she expected and she pretty much slid down the whole thing. Veronica scanned the trees ahead when she gained her footing. For a flicker of a moment, she thought she saw him.

“Grant,” she cried and followed.

Snow was falling swiftly so she pulled on her fur-lined hood. Wind blew cold and nothing but pine trees swung back and forth overhead. Then she saw him. Just ahead. But again he was lost around a bend. She had just rounded the corner when she slipped.

This time there would be no regaining control.

Her feet slid out from under her and she careened on her backside down a steep incline. Icy wet snow whipped into her face and she tried to grab on to anything she could find along the way. No such luck. A flurry of limbs, she kept on sliding.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Her chest seized, breathing became impossible, fear roared up.

Then
thump
, she slammed into a tree.

The wind knocked out of her, the world dimmed then dimmed even more.

The last thing she saw before everything went dark were ravens.

Two of them…

Flying straight at her.

Rochester, England

Just South of the Danelaw

878 A.D.

“This one’s mine,” a deep voice declared.

Veronica blinked and tried to focus on Grant, words slurring, “Just met. Don’t think so. About time you stopped. Didn’t you hear me yelling?”

A rough hand grabbed her chin. “Just look at that face. Glad I came on this raid after all.”

What was he talking about? Though she tried to bat Grant’s hand away, her arm felt far too heavy. So she blinked a few more times until things snapped into focus.

And she screamed.

Or at least tried to.

The sound that came out of her mouth was really more of a weak squeak as a dirty, bearded face came close. Offering up a sneer, he groused, “Yes, I claim her as my slave.”

Slave?

“I don’t think so,” Veronica whispered but it was too late.

The next thing she knew he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and started walking. When he slapped her ass, she managed a good slam of her fist on his back. Not fazed in the least, the monster of a man kept moving. When at last she was thumped down on her backside it was alongside two other frightened women. She winced when the brute roughly tied her hands behind her back.

Hell, she’d been kidnapped. This was why she didn’t trust heavily wooded states like Maine. Yet, had she not been the fool who barreled into these very woods in pursuit of Grant? Regardless, her attention soon became torn between the whimpering women and what was happening around her.

Gruff, bearded men were everywhere. But that’s not what had her stunned. No, it was what they were wearing. Just like in Amber’s sketch, just like she’d researched, they wore heavy boots and long tunics cinched by leather belts over trousers. Many had braided beards, braids in their hair or various parts of their head shaved altogether. Tattooed, they carried a variety of weapons including knives, swords, and axes. Thankfully, no guns. Still. Was there some sort of weird biker gang causing havoc around here? Or some Viking raid reenactment? Because who knew nowadays.

Yet shivers were repeatedly racing up her spine.

Something wasn’t right.

That certainty was driven home when her eyes drifted over the cliff to her left and narrowed on the ocean. If her jaw hadn’t dropped before, it did now. Two ships were anchored offshore. And they were like nothing she’d ever seen…beyond historical pictures.

Viking ships.

Her mind cartwheeled. This made no sense. But logic tried to surface. Maine was a state that took pride in anything nautical. So who knows, maybe someone built Viking ships for a local festival.

In the dead of winter, Veronica?

Ignoring her inner voice, she turned her attention back to the terrified women by her side. Better to focus on them than anything else. Voice firm, she met their eyes. “We’re going to be all right. Just stay calm, okay?”

Wide-eyed, they said nothing, just stared at her until their eyes went even wider as a man approached. Jaw set, Veronica turned wary eyes to the behemoth guy who crouched in front of them. Good looking in a fierce way, his head was shaved, displaying a variety of curling tattoos. Two long skinny braids stemmed from his goatee. Sharp golden-flecked green eyes traveled over the other women before they landed on her.

Their eyes narrowed at the same time as they studied one another. There was something familiar about him. As though she’d met him before. But that was impossible. She’d remember. Regardless. There was something. If nothing else, his eye color was identical to Sean’s.

“Name’s Kjar,” he grunted.

Not quite ready to give her name to a perfect stranger, Veronica remained silent.

“Mine. I’ve claimed her.”

Kjar’s eyes never left hers. “So you say, Hamdir.” He eyed her for another long moment before he looked over his shoulder at the man who’d brought her here. “But even you know nothing is officially claimed until the King says so.”

The brute towering over Kjar’s shoulder,
Hamdir
, frowned heavily. “I found her and laid claim. She is
mine
.”

Kjar gave no response but stood and steered Hamdir away.

“They’re going to kill us,” one of the women said on a sob.

“After they rape us,” the other said.

Veronica didn’t miss the edge of anger in the voice of the second woman who had spoken so she turned her attention to the petite, scraggly thing. “And once they rape us, what then?”

The woman’s even eyes met hers. “Then we’re passed on to the next.”

Shit.
Great. But what else had she expected of this backwoods bunch?

Though she wasn’t convinced in the least, she was about to reassure them all would be fine when someone said, “They've returned!”

Veronica didn’t know what that meant until a group of men broke from the tree line. Wonderful. More tall, bearded, frightening men. Yet even as she thought it something shifted in the air around her and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Warmth followed by cold then more warmth. It was strange, unusual and set her more on edge than she already was. But it didn’t much matter as men flooded the area with bags of loot and two stopped as though they sensed something.

She knew. Just
knew
.

It was
them
.

Raknar and Kol.

Naðr Véurr’s brothers.

As if she’d been walking freely and was suddenly snagged back by a leash around her neck, her head jerked and her eyes shot to them. Taller than the others, it almost seemed they felt the same leash around their necks because their heads whipped her way and their eyes locked on her face.

Oh
hell.

Her heart skidded to a halt.

Though everything seemed to be in slow motion, she processed two things. The first, Kjar once more stood close. The second, Kol and Raknar were heading her way.

Megan had called them handsome, but she must’ve been truly smitten with Naðr Véurr to be so vague. Both were broad shouldered, long-legged and well muscled. One had dark hair and eyes black as sin. Yet her gaze was inevitably drawn to the other. Her magazine would have
immediately
picked him up as a model, to heck with a portfolio. Dressed in a dark brown leather tunic, pants, heavy boots with a fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders, pure confidence radiated off him. So entirely his own entity, this was a man who’d never spent a day of his life worrying about what others thought of him.

With short, sun-streaked blond hair, his remarkably handsome face was shadowed with stubble and his eyes narrowed. It didn’t matter how much distance still remained between them or his hooded gaze, she already knew those eyes were going to be big trouble. Had she been editing an article for a photo spread she would have called them Arctic Icicle Blue. There was no other way to describe their incomparable pale azure depths caught within a paper thin ring of darker, steely blue.

But which was Kol and which was Raknar?

She soon found out when the dark haired man crouched in front of her and cracked a grin, his evaluation a little too thorough. “Loki’s balls, you don’t look a thing like your sister.” His eyes continued a slow, but appreciative roam over her face. “Kol’s the name.”

“My sister,” she murmured then frowned before launching to her feet. She rose so quickly that her bound hands threw off her balance.

The blond, who could only be Raknar, steadied her with a hand to her elbow. Tiny bolts of awareness tingled over her skin.
Jesus
. Though she was tall at a little over five foot nine, he had her by at least ten inches. Her gaze snapped to his and as she suspected, his eyes were a gateway straight to either Heaven or hell.

Way too intense.

“Raknar,” she whispered, instantly pissed with herself for sounding so winded.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said softly, his voice a deep baritone that should have soothed, but instead made every muscle in her body lock up tight.

Veronica shook her head, not entirely sure why, just that it felt like reality was sucking her into a whirlpool of emotions that made less and less sense. Looking for something that felt safe, or at least far safer than looking into his steady gaze, her eyes shot to Kjar and she spoke hoarsely, “Megan…is she here…am I… have I…”

Damn it, Veronica, get a grip.

Kol stood and she stepped back, instantly overwhelmed by the brothers. Meanwhile, Kjar took her elbow and attempted to steer her away. Yet she froze, suddenly aware of not the men standing nearby but the women she was about to walk away from.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m staying with them.” Then, realizing her thoughts and words were going in several directions she focused on Kjar’s face because, believe it or not, he made her feel the calmest. “Is Megan here?” She swallowed hard and pushed impossible words past her lips, stamping out panic as best she could. “Have I traveled back in time?”

Kjar, Kol, and Raknar made no move, just watched her closely as Kjar answered. “Yes. You’re in ninth century England. We set sail for home soon.” His voice gentled. “Megan is there.” Then he cocked his head, eyes never leaving hers. “And you are…Veronica or Amber?”

Answering him would make all of this far too real. Veronica clenched her teeth and wished she could cross her arms over her chest protectively.

“She is Veronica,” Raknar said before he strode away.

Riveted, she watched him go. How did he know that? Then again,
did
he? Yet chances were if she had truly traveled through time then they already knew she was from the future and that Megan truly was her sister, as was possibly implied…right? Teeth grinding, she inhaled through her nose and tried not to think about what else her sister had said about the Viking king and his brothers.

Part dragon.

She shook her head. Impossible. Myth. Unthinkable. Not reality.

Compartmentalizing everything that frightened her right now, she focused on the present, eyes still on Kjar and played the part “Why did I end up here and not with my sister?”

“
Örlög,” Kol replied. When she looked at him in confusion, his eyebrows perked. “Wyrd?”

When she shook her head, lost, Kjar said, “Destiny.”

Overwhelmed by it all, she continued shaking her head. “No, my
destiny
doesn’t lie here.”

“No, not here, not in
England
.” Though the word England clearly soured his tongue, a fresh grin spread over Kol’s face. “But with us in Scandinavia.”

Right…because they weren’t modern day bikers but ninth century Vikings. A fresh headache blossomed. This couldn’t be happening. She
had
to be dreaming again. Her hand snaked into her back pocket, both curious and protective.

The stones were still there.

So was something else. All she could tell was that it felt about the size of a tube of lipstick.

“I found her,” Hamdir informed Raknar as they gathered up supplies. “She is mine.”

Veronica couldn’t hear Raknar’s response but based on Hamdir’s scowl it wasn’t what the man wanted to hear.

Raknar’s eyes went to Kjar. “It’s time to go. Release the women.” His eyes landed on Veronica. “Not her.” Then disgust flickered over his features before they smoothed. “But for Odin’s sake, free her arms.”

Of course they wouldn’t be letting her go. And honestly, she didn’t want them to if they could lead her to Megan

Kjar cut the women’s bindings as well as Veronica’s.

The women whimpered with relief and Veronica crouched, eying them both. “See, they’re letting you go.”

“You speak their language,” the brunette accused. “You’re one of them.”

Veronica shook her head. “No, I speak your language.”

Then it occurred to her. If she were truly in ninth century England, nobody here, including the women,
should
speak modern day English. But she remembered Megan telling them how her stone apparently allowed for language barriers to be crossed. The Vikings had understood her as clearly as she did them.

Now was not the time to try to explain anything to these women though. Veronica removed her jacket and wrapped it around the frailer of the two. When she saw the other had no shoes, she pulled off her boots and handed them over. Wary, the woman stared at her for a long moment before she snatched the boots and put them on in a flurry.

Then the women just stared at her, grateful but still terrified.

“Go.” Veronica urged. “Now!”

One took off but not the other. Her eyes held Veronica’s as she whispered, “Run, just
run
with us.”

“No.” Veronica nudged her. “You go. I’ll be fine.”

The girl stared at her long and hard, unsure, before her eyes skirted over far too many men and she darted off. Relieved but tense, Veronica’s eyes turned back to…Kol. Because Kjar had already tromped off to join the rest.