The Viking Stones

Mikki Leigh

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The Viking Stones By

Mikki Leigh Erika Kire Jenna Marshall Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.net

Triskelion Publishing 15327 W. Becker Lane Surprise, AZ 85379 Copyright 2006 Mikki Leigh, Erika Kire, Jenna Marshall

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law. ISBN 1-60186-004-8 Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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The Viking Stones

The Legend By

Mikki Leigh

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The Legend Asgard 969 A.D. The distant cry of a newborn echoed through the great hall, filling the rooms of Bilskirnir with the man-child’s lusty wail. Thor stood and raised a brimming horn of mead to toast the birth of his earthbound son. In his other hand there dangled a doeskin pouch, the suppleness of the pale leather revealing the pebbled texture of its weighty contents. “I give to him these precious stones as a lasting symbol of his hallowed powers. Guided by the Nine Noble Virtues that will follow him throughout, he will protect the weak and defend the innocent. Live long, Aerik, son of Thor, slayer of demons and champion of mankind!” His blue eyes flashed with the deep brilliance of a starry midnight sky and the mighty man’s fiery red beard split with joyous laughter that rumbled all the way to Midgard.

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Prologue A Norseland Mountain Pasture 989 A.D. Keen-eyed and wary of the strange bleakness that settled over the valley, Aerik moved like a silent shadow in the pre-dawn darkness as he followed the hideous trail of mutilated carcasses and picked-clean bones. Be they beast or human was impossible to discern from the way the parts were scattered without thought or reason. The path narrowed, disappearing entirely in places under stagnant pools of muck and mire, the stench of which lingered on his tongue like a fetid piece of meat and filled his flaring nostrils with a bitterness he found difficult to abide in its abundance. He adjusted his lengthy stride to accommodate the growing uncertainty of the trail and approached the forest’s edge with increased apprehension as he scanned the grove of trees lying ahead, preparing for the forthcoming conflict. He felt its malevolent essence. Its vileness hugged the earth like a stubborn patch of ground fog, slithering over the sucking mud and swirling around the soles of his boots in the cold rising mist of early morning. A sudden gust of biting wind swept down the mountainside and across the meadow. The icy chill sliced through him like the blade of his dagger. Cursing the blasted turn in weather, he drew the hood of his cloak higher on his head in an attempt to restrain the heavy locks of shoulder-length reddish-blonde hair whipping about and obscuring his vision. He heard two of the virtues at his back chattering their business between themselves as if he did not exist. “You would be wise to remember that I am your master and the purpose for your attendance in this realm,” he muttered. Their disrespectful giggles at his gruff bristling only annoyed him further, forcing him to ignore the lot of them before he did something he would later regret. Shifting beneath the insufficient barrier of his woolen cloak, he flexed cold, stiff fingers around the hilt of his drawn sword and felt the warmth slowly return. The icy numbness ebbed with the sting of a thousand needles as he pondered the trifling matter of where he had misplaced his gloves this time.

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These palm-size winged creatures that followed him were quick to scold or point out his failings whenever it suited them. Then why, he wondered, could they not on occasion remind him of personal items left behind? Thoughts of gloves and virtue faeries vanished with the coming of the bubbling gurgle from behind him. He smelled the rancid blood, felt the hot, foul breath creep across the curve of his frozen cheek. “Aaaaaeeerik…” Holding his sword steady, he carefully unfastened the ring clasp holding his cloak around his shoulders. He whirled around and whipped the heavy length of wool off his back, pitching it in the direction of the unnerving taunt. The cloak sailed through the air and floated to the ground without indication of anything trapped beneath. He snatched it up and watched the vague form of a human begin to take shape. It rose from a puddle of brackish ooze with the same sucking noise his boots had made earlier in the mud. As it grew into its erect state black slime thick as honey dripped from its developing appendages and it quivered like a cooking pot full of pork fat left to congeal overnight. At the end of each upper body appendage there grew four sharp talons similar to those of an enormous bird of prey. Aerik watched them curl and flex as they formed. Although no distinguishing features emerged, the more time that passed, the more human the ground crawler appeared. Aerik poised his sword and planted his feet. There was only one sure way to kill this hideous being – piece by piece. His first strike severed its left arm at the joint, the force of the hit sending it twenty paces from where they stood. It squirmed and trembled on the ground, leaving a trail of murky slime in its attempt to work its way back to its host. Aerik gave a shrill three-note whistle. From out of the sky there flew an enormous raven so glossy and black it appeared to be made of polished obsidian. The bird swooped down and picked up the quivering part in its beak and soared toward the rising sun. Following the bird as it disappeared over the horizon, Aerik’s gaze was distracted by a flashing glint caught from out of the corner of his eye. Having no time to ponder the event he dismissed it with a frown and a quick shrug. In the time it took to redirect his attention, the demon took advantage of Aerik’s momentary distraction and struck. Aerik cried out as he felt the biting sting of its claw puncture and tear deep into his chest, slashing through the layers of winter garments, severing his flesh and leaving four gaping trenches across his ribs from nipple to groin. The steaming heat of his blood flowed freely from the wounds, warming his cold flesh and turning the ground at his feet crimson. He roared with angry defiance. The sound of his hoarse bellow rumbled like thunder through the valley, then rose to the heavens before settling in the hilltops to echo off the crags and plateaus. Gripping the hilt of his broadsword with both hands, Aerik raised the sword high over his head. His arms and back muscles bulged and stretched, screaming from the strain he placed on his injuries. His torn, blood-spattered flesh trembled as he swung the finely honed shaft at his assailant with a wide, sweeping arc. The double-edged blade whistled through the early morning mist and severed the demon’s head from its shoulders. The black glob flew a considerable distance and landed with

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a smacking thump before shattering into a thousand crawling slugs. Balancing itself on gelatinous stumps, the remainder of the body quivered for a long moment before melting into the earth like a slab of beeswax left too near the heat of a fire. Inasmuch as he would have preferred to have taken the thing apart piece by piece, Aerik knew that without its head it could not restore itself for many, many years to come. He would have to be satisfied with that. Through his thumb and forefinger he whistled nine precise notes, this time to call his winged minions in mass. Hordes of the glossy birds blackened the early morning sky. Dark shadows spread across the landscape as they descended on the squirming, worm-like remains of the demon’s shattered skull. Growing weaker, Aerik let the sword fall from his hands and staggered back as he succumbed to his injuries. Hearing the flurry of tiny wings flit and flutter around his head, he dropped to his knees and collapsed. Several of the faeries ventured near enough to pat his cheeks and forehead in an effort to comfort him as they openly wept for their dying master. It was at that moment he realized what it was he had seen just beyond the clouds. It had been the flashing glint of the sun reflecting off the armor of the Valkyrie as they sat astride their enormous white wolves, watching and waiting for the battle to be done. The thought of them coming to escort him to his place in Valhalla eased his mind as well as his pain. Clutching at the blood-soaked doeskin bag hanging from a leather thong around his neck, his knuckles brushed the cold metal of the Mjollnir amulet, also wet and sticky, lying beneath the pouch on a heavy chain. The large amber cabochon embedded in the center of the hammer-shaped talisman pressed against his fingers, radiating from its core the strength and goodness of its giver. “Soon, father,” he murmured. “We will be together soon.” Closing his eyes, he drifted into a peaceful sleep to await those who would accompany him on his final journey. The last sounds he heard were the rumble of distant thunder and the ground-shaking cracks of lightning striking. ***** “The blessed one lives,” Kara exclaimed as they approached, her expression filled with awe. “See,” she said. “His faeries still hover nearby. If he were dead they would have returned to their realm.” She knelt at his side and touched the blood-soaked garments, peeling them back with a gentle hand. “I will stay and tend to him.” “Sister,” Brynhild said, touching young Kara’s hair blowing wild in the harsh wind. The fiery red and gold strands leaped around her like flickering flames under the morning sun. “His destiny has already been decided.” “I am this man’s destiny,” Kara whispered defiantly as she bowed her head over his prone form and wept. She stroked his cheek, swept the damp hair from his sleeping face, and allowed her tears to fall without restraint. They tumbled from her sapphire blue eyes and spilled down her fair cheeks like crystal jewels. “And he is mine.” The thunder rolled again.

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Chapter One Aerik was enchanted the moment he came upon her. The Gods had never allowed a more perfect creature to walk this realm, nor any other he imagined, and it made him wonder why she roamed these woods without protection from the likes of him. The vision of her performing the simple task of picking apples stole the breath from his chest and he half expected to be struck blind from staring so long at her complete and utter loveliness. One could see at a glance she was a tad more matron than maid, a sturdy built woman with long limbs and straight back, built with enough meat on her bones to offer gentle comfort to any man who nestled between her thighs. By all the Aesir in Asgard, he swore on his Mjollnir there would be no bony hips and knobby knees beneath her skirts to jab and poke a man. He gave a tremulous sigh and fought the rising urge to reach for and squeeze the lush abundance of her bosoms straining against the dark shawl draped around her shoulder as she stretched for the fruit on higher branches. And such glorious tresses! The vibrant colors of autumn tumbled unbound around her shoulders, spilling and shimmering down her back in a wild cascade of raging red fire and molten gold. His hands curled against his thigh to quell the temptation to grab a handful and drag her into the bushes. The longer he watched, the less chance she had of escaping. Crumpled in her fingers she held the front hem of her linen overdress like the edges of a burlap sack to hold the fruit she collected. She stepped down from the fallen tree trunk she had used to lengthen her grasp and released her grip on the cloth to dump her harvest into the bucket at her feet. The ripe fruit tumbled and rolled into the waiting container with the thumping rumble of distant thunder. His heart beat fast and heavy in his chest and his breath stuck in his throat like a dry crust of bread as he watched her lower herself to the ground, crawling on hands and knees to search for the runaway fruit. As she stretched under a low sprawling bush, a tempting glimpse of bare calf exposed itself to his lingering gaze. Her rounded bottom outlined by the indigo wool of her skirt was almost too much for his already aching body to bear. From the way the woven fabric tucked and draped around her plump backside, he could almost envision the fleshy separation. His fingers twitched, itching to delve between the lush divide.

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His loins stirred, aching with unbearable need, and caused him to shift with a discomfort he found impossible to ease no matter how he adjusted himself in the hard saddle. Sensing his master’s distress, the black stallion danced and pranced beneath him, tossing his sleek head in such a way he appeared to be urging Aerik to mount the female and be done with it. It had not been all that long since he had eased his length into the warmth of a woman. Then why, he wondered, did he behave as a sailor returning from a lengthy stretch at sea starved for the feel of a female writhing beneath him? Unable to wait a moment longer, he dismounted. The soles of his soft leather boots landed without so much as snapping a twig to forewarn his quarry. The frantic flutter of tiny wings accompanied by a chorus of tinkling giggles and excited whispers circled around his head. “Bloody virtues,” he muttered under his breath as he waved a hand to chase them away. He couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t plague him like a swarm of horseflies, and always at the most inopportune moments in his life. So intent on collecting the fruit that had escaped, the woman never heard him approach. He dropped to his knees behind her and covered her mouth with one hand as he snaked the other around her waist, pulling her up and against the solid wall of his hard breathing chest. He felt her stiffen and struggle in his arms, an action that only heightened his arousal. “Do not scream, fair one,” he rasped in her ear. He breathed the scent of her, the pungent tang of spices and herbs laced with fear. She stirred against him, her body rigid and straining against his forearm. “You will not warn the others?” She shook her head, acknowledging him, but he questioned her again nevertheless, “I have your vow?” She nodded and he lifted his hand from her mouth. His fingers moved downward, caressing the smooth flesh of her neck on his way to loosen the knot of wool between her breasts. “I must warn you,” she said, her timbre breathless. “If you harm me my husband will hunt you down and feed your man parts to the vultures.” He laughed out loud at her threat. The tightly coiled fabric fell open and the shawl slipped from her shoulders. Fulfilling his earlier urge, he cupped her heavy breast, filling his palm with her abundance. At her startled gasp, his arousal strained against the fabric of his trousers, and he wedged the hard ridge of his restrained cock into the soft cradle of her buttocks. “If you must do this, then be swift about it,” she urged, her words salty and sharp. “And if I chose to dally?” he questioned as he reached between their bodies. Lifting the hem of his tunic, he untied the front of his trousers and released himself. Eager for its freedom, his cock jumped out like a weasel from its lair. The pain of his need caused him to draw a sharp breath and moan aloud as the head of his swollen member rubbed against the coarse fabric of his breeches. This time it was her laughter that rang out. “Dally?” she taunted. “I think not. Your need is apparent. I predict the deed will be over and done with but a few strokes.” She shifted her weight, being certain to rub against him with her hip, to prove her observation. “Ha! Dally indeed!” she taunted upon hearing his sucking breath.

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“Woman, your tongue carries the sharpness of my dagger. This man of yours must threaten to sever it from your lips often.” “Nay, never,” she replied, tossing her head with a haughty shake and a bob. “He knows that when sleep comes, so will my settling of the matter.” Her action caused her long locks to dance, the wispy ends played across his throbbing shaft like the touch of a thousand goose feathers. He nearly spilled his seed before ever having moved inside her. Holding on to what little control he still maintained, he hissed, “I cannot bear another moment of your insolence.” He pressed his open palm between the blades of her shoulders and forced her to brace herself on her elbows. Lifting her skirts, he tossed them up and over, exposing her lush bounty from the waist down. His hand crept around her bare hip to cup her feminine mound, a finger slipped between the soft, dewy folds and massaged the small bead of pink flesh. She gasped aloud and moved against his hand as if she could do nothing else but respond to his most intimate probing. He felt the source of her womanhood, her rising heat, as his ministrations caused her back to arch into him like a cat under the hands of its master. “Ah,” he murmured against her hair. His finger grew wet as her body prepared itself. Holding her steady, he drove deep into the center of her sweetness. He withdrew and plunged again, and again. The strength of his thrusts rocked her forward, changing the angle at which he entered. His pace quickened, as his need climbed, the tempo of his breaths matched that of his thrusts, and all too soon he was frantic and gasping to find release from this sweet torture he found in her. He felt her contract and buck against his hand. Pressing her more tightly against him, he pushed into her with one last deep, penetrating stroke. A rumbling, guttural moan welled up from deep inside him and exploded from his lips as the force of his ejaculation shook his body. She lay limp across his arm, her breaths gasping and ragged. Leaning over her, he drew the fiery strands of her hair aside and placed a gentle kiss upon the nape of her neck, leaving his lips to linger where damp tendrils clung to her dewy skin and the earthy scent of their joining filled his nostrils. His lust for her had been sated for now. He also knew without further consideration that his need for this woman would never find repletion. “Your husband is a fortunate man indeed, fair one. Does he tell you this enough?” “Aye,” she sighed, rolling beneath him to rest her deep blue gaze on the man who spoke such unexpected words of praise. She touched his bearded chin, reveling in the springy reddish blonde hairs covering his chin and jowls. His gruff visage belied the true softness tickling her fingers. “But never often enough that I grow weary of hearing him speak so.” The smile on her lips, so plump and crimson, caused his mouth to twitch with a burning desire to taste the berry red fullness. He dipped his head and took possession of her mouth, plunging his tongue into her with the same fierceness he had when filling her with his manhood. Satisfied, at least for the moment, he lowered himself and coiled his massive arms around her, locking her into an embrace of both possessiveness and adoration. A contented

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mewl carried to his ears as she curled against him, and a hearty laugh rumbled in his chest. “I take it you no longer wish to have my man parts severed and fed to the scavengers?” “Nay,” she breathed. “I will save the eating of your manhood for another time. And should your fortune hold steadfast it will be I and not the vultures who taste the bittersweet fruit of your loins the next time you pass this way.” His laughter bellowed, startling the birds from the branches. “Have you no shame, woman?” “Nary a scrap,” she answered, stretching to plant a kiss on a part of his face not covered with hair. “Not when it comes to joining with the likes of you.” She sat up and straightened her skirts, brushing off the dirt and dried leaves clinging to them. “The others will know what we have been doing.” “I care not what the others think,” he huffed, straightening and refastening his pants. Tossing her hair over her shoulder with a challenging glance, she said, “You care not that your sons will know their mother and father rut in the woods like a pair of wild boar?” He grunted. “I would imagine the older ones have rutted a time or two by now. How many winters has Kaelon walked this earth?” “He approaches eighteen,” she answered with the sigh of a devoted mother not ready to let even one of her beautiful sons go. “Hagen is beyond eager to meet with you to settle the bride-price and morning gift for his daughter.” She bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall like a silken curtain, as if doing so would veil her feelings. There was no hiding from Aerik Thorsson. “Kara, what troubles you?” He took her hand and clutched it as though he knew she needed his strength to speak aloud. None of his gifts or those he shared with his sons ever worked with her. He was forced to rely solely on reading his beloved’s feelings as every other mortal man – whatever touched her heart touched his as well. “Tell me,” he urged. She leveled a gentle gaze upon him. “Have I Runes etched upon my brow for you to read my thoughts with such ease?” He brushed his fingers across her forehead, attempting to smooth the worried furrows that marred her perfect beauty. “Share with me this burden that weighs upon you.” “It is Kaelon. He refuses to wed Inga.” “I see,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “Has another maiden captured his heart?” She touched his warm cheek. “You know your sons as well as you know your wife, Aerik. Aye,” she said. “Kaelon has turned his attentions to Inga’s younger sister, Katja.” “And the girl?” he questioned. “Does she return his feelings?” Kara nodded. “I believe so. She looks at our son through smitten eyes.” “Then Katja it will be,” Aerik stated as though that was all that needed to be said to settle the matter. He leaped to his feet and reached out a hand to help Kara. “Aerik,” she exclaimed. “The alliance between Hagen’s clan and ours was made when Kaelon and Inga were but wee ones, just as Katja’s hand was pledged to your brother’s son Alaric. You cannot break these promises between our families with so little regard for the consequences that will surely come from your actions.” Ignoring her protests, Aerik whistled through his thumb and forefinger. “Magnus,” Aerik called.

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The magnificent steed sauntered through the trees with a lazy stride. Aerik lifted his wife to sit sideward across the front part of the saddle with one knee hooked around the carved pommel to keep her steady. Once handing her the bucket of apples, he hooked his foot into the iron stirrup and swung his leg over the horse’s flanks, settling himself behind his fretting wife. Gripping her bucket, Kara nestled herself into his surrounding arms and leaned against the wall of his chest. “I will come to terms with Hagen.” Aerik touched her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he rested his chin against the top of her head. “I married the woman who holds my heart. How can I allow anything less for my son?”

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Chapter Two As they came out of the woods and approached Aeriksstad, Kara smiled serenely at the homestead Aerik had built for her and his family. Low, stone walls encircled their land, dividing the animal pens and stable from the longhouse, and again from the smokehouse, sauna and bakehouse shared with the other families in the settlement. “Were you able to settle the discord in Svendheim?” Kara questioned. Her husband was often called away to act as peacemaker between families at odds with one another. “Bah,” Aerik huffed behind her. “Was only a trifling dispute that would have been resolved without counsel if it were not for the interference of Alaric and Emeric. Those two gnaw at my patience like a bad tooth. While one stokes the fire with conflict, the other stirs the pot of contention until it can do nothing but boil over. Holdar should have taken a horsewhip to them the day they were born.” “Such harsh words from a man who leaves the discipline of his offspring to his wife,” she teased, reaching behind her head to scratch and stroke his furry chin. She could tell he found no humor in her quiet observation from his harsh and disturbed sigh. “How should I speak then of boys who wreak havoc across the countryside with no regard for what destruction they leave in their wake?” he questioned. “Need I remind you that these young men are still your brother’s sons?” “Half-brother,” he reminded with a bitterness he no longer disguised from her. “And even that is in name only according to Holdar.” For years he tried to hide the hurt caused by Holdar’s crass and hateful barbs about Aerik being his mother’s bastard son. “And all the more reason to show them the compassion that Holdar has never shown to you.” She lowered her hand but not before giving his beard a mindful tug. Knowing she was right did not lessen the ill feelings he held for Holdar and his twins. They were more than just undisciplined young men. Their devious behavior and the reason behind it went far deeper than lack of supervision and guidance from their father. Aerik could feel it whenever he was around them. He reined the horse off the main road leading into the settlement and led him toward the outlying stable. Their second to youngest, Erik, a strapping boy of only fourteen, waited at the fence gate. He was already as big as his two older brothers, Kaelon and Alekandar. “Father,” he exclaimed, laughing and running to greet them. “It is good to see you. Welcome home.” It was Magnus, however, who received the affectionate pat on his velvety snout.

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He took the bucket of fresh-picked apples from his mother and snatched a perfect red beauty from the top. Instead of eating it himself, he offered it to the stallion. “Erik,” she admonished. “Those apples are not horse fodder.” She felt Aerik’s throaty laughter rumbled against her back. “Shall I find the whip?” Aerik questioned with a husky rasp in her ear. Still chuckling, he gripped her around the waist to keep her from catapulting off the horse as she stretched to take back the bucket. Kara jabbed an elbow into Aerik’s ribs to cease his teasing and break his restraint. She leaped off the horse and snatched the apples from her son. “I will not have you feeding my entire afternoon’s labor to that smelly beast.” Magnus nudged Kara between her shoulder blades with his snout, obviously wanting another sweet treat. “Get away,” she said as she reached around and gave the horse a gentle but nonetheless firm smack on the nose as a reminder to behave. Before Aerik could rein Magnus back, the horse whinnied and pushed the side of his huge head against Kara’s shoulder so hard it knocked her off balance and sent the bucket flying as she stumbled to catch her footing. She watched dozens of her beautiful apples roll and scatter in the dirt. “Erik, get that ill-tempered beast out of my sight before I take your father’s blade to its backside.” “Mother!” Erik cried out, shielding the horse with his body. “You would not!” She glared over her shoulder. “Would you rather I take it to yours?” she asked. Erik knew better than to respond. He recognized the difference between questions from his mother that demanded an answer and those that required nothing but obedient silence. Shaking with laughter, Aerik dismounted and handed the reins to his son. With a jerk of his head, he motioned toward the stable to urge the lad to make a hasty retreat and to take the horse with him. Erik needed no further encouragement and moved as if Sleipnir’s eight legs propelled him. “The boy meant no disrespect,” Aerik told her in defense of his son’s actions as he bent down and scooped up two apples and returned them to the bucket. Kara huffed in response. “He spends more time of late with those beasts than he does his family.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to look at him. “I see the mother in you struggling again.” “First it was Kaelon, then Alekandar, and now Erik. Each day they wander farther and farther from the nest. Even Birgir no longer needs me as he once did.” “Tis the nature of things, my love. Soon it will be just the two of us again.” “The thought of an empty house frightens me.” He drew her into his arms. “Perhaps the thought of having only my ugly face to look at in the morn as we break fast frightens you more?” “Only for the rest of my life, dear husband,” Kara laughed. “Only for the rest of my life.” She picked up her bucket and headed for the house. “Father!” Aerik turned to the call and found his eldest son Kaelon striding toward him from the direction of the smith house. Streaked with sweat and flushed from the heat of the fire he worked over, Kaelon’s face broke into a broad smile. His sleeves were rolled past his elbows,

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exposing massive developed forearms. Tied around his neck and waist was a long leather apron that hung past his knees. They hugged in a warm greeting, both adding a couple of hardy slaps on the back before letting go. “Father!” Birgir, the youngest of his all male brood came running across the pasture. The child had been wading in the stream again. His pant legs were wet to the knees and his feet were bare. The bond he shared with his four sons was a powerful one, yet their ability to always know when he returned home without ever being told amazed him every time. The connection was stronger than any of them realized. Aerik opened his arms to embrace his son. The boy smiled as his father wrapped him in a bear hug. As he released Birgir, he turned his attention to Kaelon. “Has Arne closed his shop early today?” Aerik questioned as he and his sons headed toward the longhouse. “No. Father,” Kaelon answered with a sheepish glance. “I will return and finish my day. It is just that I had urgent need to speak with you.” “Aye, so your mother tells me.” He glanced down at Birgir who hung onto every word passing between his father and big brother. “Birgir, you had best find your shoes before your mother catches you turning the dirt on your feet to mud.” “I left them on the bank with my boat!” Birgir broke loose from his father’s grip and scurried off to search for his discarded shoes and toy. “Finish your day’s work, Kaelon. There will be time enough this eve to discuss what troubles you.” “Aye, Father. This eve then.” Aerik watched Kaelon drag his feet as he returned to his apprenticeship. He wished he could ease his son’s visible distress. They both knew the trouble his refusal to marry his intended will cause between the families involved. He had sounded more confident than he felt when discussing this with Kara earlier. Her arguments had made more sense than his passing this off as an easily rectified situation. Although it was not an impossible situation, it was a far cry from a simple one. Spotting Erik coming out of the stable, he motioned for the boy to join him. “Saddle up your mare and ride to Hagensstad. Extend to Hagen an invitation to join us on the morrow for the evening meal. And be sure to tell him I would like for him to bring both his daughters.” Erik cast his father a surprised look telling him that Kaelon had confided to his younger brother. “And if he questions the reason for your invitation?” Aerik shrugged. “Tell him the truth. That I wish to settle the matter of his daughter’s marriage to Kaelon.”

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Chapter Three Kara went about starting their evening meal by stoking the fire and placing a slab of smoked pork into the iron pot that hung over the flames. She added onions, cabbage, and some water, and set it all to boil. She placed two crusty, fresh baked loaves of bread on the thick-planked table, one at each end, with knives to cut them as well as bowls and spoons. She was just about to core and slice her troublesome batch of apples when the door swung open. Ducking his head to clear the doorway, Aerik entered. She had not expected to see him again until it was time for their evening meal. That he had chosen to share this time with her instead of seeking the company of the other men from the settlement brought a pleased smile to her face as she went about her tasks. Coupling with him in the woods had been an enjoyable interlude, and one she would do again if he so asked, but it was these ordinary domestic moments with him that brought her even greater pleasure. Although she dreaded the day when the boys would all be gone, she also treasured these quiet moments alone with her husband of nearly twenty years. She could scarcely believe how swift the years had passed. In many ways it seemed like only yesterday when she found him lying at death’s portal. Her decision to remain in this realm had been as easy one to make at the time – never for one moment had she ever found herself regretting it. She poured a measure of mead and brought it to him. He took a long draught of the honeyed wine and stared into the depths of the amber-hued liquid. “What holds your thoughts, husband?” she asked, sitting beside him. Aerik plucked at his bristly chin hairs in what she recognized as a gesture of uncertainty before he responded, “I cannot help but wonder if the stories that have spread for years about Emeric and Alaric are more fact than not. Holdar has never been forthright about the boys’ mother.” “She is no mother!” Kara spat. “Any woman who abandons her infant sons as she did does not deserve a right to that title.” Contempt dripped from every word she sputtered. “There are more suitable words for the likes of her, though I dare not speak them aloud.” To Kara the roles of wife and mother were sacred privileges. That she had been allowed to share her life with Aerik and bear his children had been the greatest blessing the gods could have ever bestowed upon her as a woman.

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“No matter what name you wish to hang on her,” Aerik said. “There was still a woman involved in their birth. What concerns me more is what traits of hers guide these boys down this path of destruction they travel?” Kara frowned, puzzled by her husband’s direction of thought. “You seek excuses for their actions?” “I seek the truth,” he told her. “I cannot decide my course of action against them until I know for certain they are what I suspect. Only then will I know what must be done.” She could see how much this unpleasantness about his nephews upset him and she sought to lighten his burdensome thoughts. “Is it any wonder their behavior lacks structure with only a nursemaid to care for them as children and a cold-hearted father to usher them into manhood?” “A poor upbringing does not excuse bad behavior. Other men have grown up with far less.” Kara’s demeanor softened and she placed an open palm on Aerik’s chest. Leaning into him, she sought his quiet strength, his remarkable warmth. The Mjollnir pulsed with a life of its own beneath her fingers, as her more delicate version of the amulet responded with its own vibrations against her heart. “But other men do not have the power of The Thunder God running through their veins to help them overcome their humble beginnings and imperfect childhood.” “My worst fear is that nothing but evil flows through these young men. I cannot allow their reign of terror to continue. They must be dealt with accordingly.” Aerik’s devastation at the thought of destroying these young men was apparent. Kara saw it etched across his brow like furrows in the soil. But like his father, Aerik found nothing amusing in the harming of innocent humans. He would do what needed to be done. “Have you spoken to Holdar?” A harsh breath exploded from his lips. “More times than I have fingers,” he replied. “His resentment for me has turned him deaf to my words of warning concerning his sons. “Then find your proof and do what you must to restore peace in this realm of your responsibility.” Aerik lifted her hand from his chest and brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingers then drew her into a tender embrace. “Ah, my sweet Kara, I live only to bask in the guiding light you bring to my existence.” ***** Spearing the piece of meat with the two-pronged cooking fork, Kara lifted it from the pot and placed it on a wood trencher. She took a carving knife and cut chunks of the tender pork away from the bone, releasing steamy juices and delicious aromas. There was no need to call her brood to the table. Once the seasoned scent of their evening meal filled the main hall of the longhouse, it prompted each of them to stop whatever it was they were doing and come without further delay. After scooping a ladle of the savory vegetable mixture into individual serving bowls, she topped each dish with a hunk of meat as her family situated themselves around the table – Aerik at the head, Birgir, and Erik on one side with Kaelon and Alekandar on the other. “Where is Erik?” Kara questioned when eyeing his empty place at the table. “Has he chosen to eat in the stable with his four-legged friends rather than join us this eve?”

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“I sent him to Hagensstad,” Aerik explained. “He will be back soon.” Hagensstad?” Kara repeated. “This could not have waited until morning?” He shook his head. “I have asked Hagen and his daughters to join us tomorrow’s eve.” Aerik watched Kaelon straighten in his seat, his eyes wide and attentive, at the mention of Hagen and his daughters, or more specifically one daughter. He detected a faint smile curve the corners of his son’s mouth as Kaelon picked up the loaf of bread and tore off a hunk instead of using the supplied knife. “And when did you intend on telling me this, Aerik, when Hagen came knocking?” Aerik broke off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. He licked the grease from his fingers and chewed. “Of course not,” he replied once he swallowed. “Long before that, my love.” He grinned, knowing and waiting for what was coming next. “There is so much that needs to be done before the arrival of guests.” Kara glanced around her domain as if seeing it for the first time. “Hagen will surely have doubts about any daughter of his joining our family when he sees how we live.” “Kara, there is nothing wrong with the house,” Aerik assured her. “It looks fine.” “And just look at you,” she said, waving her hand in his direction. “You cannot welcome guests looking as you do.” Aerik straightened his shoulders and sat back. “What is wrong with me?” “You look so shaggy and unkempt,” she stated. He rubbed his scraggly chin. “I could perhaps use a trim,” he agreed, having learned a long time ago not to argue with his wife. There was time enough for opposition when their guests arrived the next day. ***** Hagen stood and shook his fist across the table in Kaelon’s direction. “You will not get away with this affront.” It was not her son but her husband that Kara kept a wary eye upon. No one in the settlement knew of Aerik’s heritage. His powers, should he ever choose to unleash them, went far beyond his persuasive charm and formidable presence. Even their sons, although privy to their remarkable ancestry, were advised never to reveal their special abilities to anyone beyond the family. She and Aerik had agreed that because they lived among humans, it was better that they conduct themselves as only humans in this realm. Never raising his voice, Aerik once again presented his argument. “The one thing I have always admired about you, Hagen, is that you are willing to listen to reason. Surely you can see the wisdom in this. Do you really want to force your daughter into an unsuitable match?” Standing firm, Hagen shook his head. “The agreement was for my Inga.” He turned to the aforementioned daughter and stroked the silky pale curtain of her long blonde hair. “And Inga it shall remain.” There was a stubborn set to his jaw and a clipped sharpness in his tone. Gazing long at Inga, Kara wondered what had happened to the child. This was not the same pretty, robust girl she had seen not more than three moons ago. The girl that sat across from her this eve appeared frail and lacked the slightest color in her cheeks.

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Inga placed a thin, gentling hand on Hagen’s forearm. “Father, you trouble yourself over naught. This is not Kaelon’s fault. It was I who encouraged him to turn his attentions elsewhere.” He leveled a narrow gaze on his daughter. “For what purpose would you have done such foolishness?” Inga’s eyes darted around the room before speaking. “Look at me,” she said softly. “I cannot marry any man.” The girl was ill and knew it, Kara realized. It was her father who refused to accept the fact. “What nonsense is this?” Hagen blustered. Inga lowered her head and whispered, “Do not force me to do this, Father. I beg of you. Her father’s face turned red with rage. “You are not capable of making a decision like that.” He swept his arm in a gesture that encompassed the entire room of young people. “You all know nothing of these matters.” Inga raised her gaze and looked first to Kaelon then to her father. “It is not right,” she said. Her voice was weak but firm. Hagen crossed his arms across his big belly. Breathing hard, he said, “I will hear no more of this. If Inga does not wish to marry Kaelon, so be it, I will not press the matter. But Katja’s marriage to Alaric will take place just as soon I can arrange it with Holdar.” “Nay!” Kaelon bellowed as he jumped to his feet. “I will not allow it.” Kara watched Hagen turn on her son with equal fervor. Though he stood a head shorter than Kaelon, she knew her son would never raise a hand against an elder, of that she was certain. She was not so sure about her husband. “You will not allow it?” Hagen repeated, taunting Kaelon with the words. “By what right?” Katja leaped to her feet and ran to Kaelon’s side. Tucking her close, Kaelon drew himself to his full height, his expression etched in granite. “By the rights allowed me as the father of the child she carries.”

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Chapter Four “How blessed we are, Aerik – a marriage of the heart for Kaelon and a grandchild. We could not dare ask for more.” Wearing only a loose linen nightdress Kara sat on a low stool beside the bed and combed her hair. She continued to speak in hushed tones, ever mindful of their sleeping sons lying just beyond the partition separating their sleeping closet from the main living quarters. “And I will at last have the daughter I have longed for,” she added, though the smile she wore was a poignant one. A deep sadness filled her heart for the poor girl who should have been her daughter, a wife and a mother. There was nothing left for Inga but death. Kara stopped her grooming and turned to stare at her unresponsive husband. Though his eyes remained open, he appeared in distant thought. “Aerik?” She poked at him with the blunt edge of her bone comb to regain his wandering attention. “Huh?” He jumped and set upon her an unfocused gaze. “You appear troubled, husband. Are you not pleased with Hagen’s decision to let Kaelon and Katja marry?” “For our son, aye, but I cannot help but wonder how Alaric will handle the news when Hagen informs him. I offered to go with him but he said he would handle it.” In spite of feeling guilty about Inga’s illness, Kara’s enthusiasm at the thought of another infant to cuddle and spoil could not be dampened. “What is done is done,” she told him. “Surely even they can see that. Alaric is a handsome lad. He will have no trouble finding another bride.” “If it were only his looks, perhaps. I am not as confident as you. And I doubt if Alaric or Holdar will see it that way either.” Finished with her grooming, she drew the heavy mass over one shoulder and began to weave the fiery strands into a single thick plait. “Leave it loose,” Aerik suggested, reaching for her to stop the restraining process. With a playful swat she pushed his interfering hand away. “And have you tangle it worse than you did in the woods yesterday?” “Your hair incites me,” he said, lying back with his hands behind his head, naked and erect and waiting for her to join him in their bed.

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“Then perhaps I should cut it off for you to carry with you on your travels from home.” She lifted a pair of shears from the basket on the floor and waved the open blades near her ear where the braid began its lengthy spiral. She watched him flinch at her suggestion but he did not jump at her bait. She knew he knew she would no more detach the braid from her head than he would sever his male member from his body. He yawned, as if the matter no long held his interest. “Whatever pleases you, my love,” he said. Turning his back to her, he rolled to his side. She climbed into their bed, scooting to stretch her now naked body down his length, and pinched his bare bottom as she curled up against him. He jumped and rolled around, burying his laughter in the curve of her neck. His hands caressed her, running up and down her body from hip to shoulder. She sparked to life in his hands. His touch shot through her like a flaming arrow, hot and piercing, leaving her weak and pliant in his embrace. She felt the tightening in her loins, the deep desire and need that never diminished. “My magnificent Aerik,” she breathed. “You bring me such joy.” He suckled her breast as if he was a starving man and she was a bountiful feast spread before him. She reveled in his attention, enjoyed every touch, and the little smacking noises he made as he kissed her body sent her over the edge of reason, compelling her to coil her leg around his hip and draw him more tightly against her. She would never get enough of him, finding sheer pleasure and contentment in the simple act of touching him, lying with him in their marriage bed. This night could be their wedding night for all the groping and lack of restraint they showed. Every time he left home she grieved and withered in his absence, and when he returned she blossomed and celebrated with the pure delight of seeing his face again. She never knew when he would be needed elsewhere again, so she grasped at these moments they shared, cherished them and held them in her heart. He gripped her hips in his mighty hands and rolled to his back, taking her with him, positioning her legs on either side of his hips to straddle him. She knew what he wanted and impaled herself on his erection. He reached up and untied the leather thong tying off the braid. She shook her head and let her hair unfurl all around them leaving a silken curtain to flow over her shoulders and down her back. The ends of the strands trailed like a whisper across his thighs and chest as she clenched her feminine sheath around his cock, stroking him with each thrust of her hips, enticing him with each sway of her full breasts. He clasped his hands around their roundness and she found pleasure in his kneading them with his fingers. His head dropped back and he moaned like that of a man who could take little more of the torture she administered. He arched his back, filling her deeper with a driving thrust he could not control. A hoarse cry punctuated his completion but he continued to move beneath her until her gyrations grew more lively and demanding. She braced her hands on his chest and tossed her head back, her hair flying like that of a wild mare soaring across the meadow, and she rode him until she joined him in that place where he waited.

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***** They had no sooner settled in to sleep when a pounding on their door roused them from their slumber. Aerik leaped to his feet and reached for his trousers to cover his nakedness. Nothing good came knocking in the middle of the night. With sword in hand, he threw back the door and found Hagen, gasping for breath appearing as though he’d run the entire distance between their homesteads. Aerik took the man by the arm to lend support and helped him into the house. Kara had already poured a goodly amount of mead in a mug and offered it to the gasping Hagen. He gulped the sweet wine and tried to speak between swallows. “Alaric and his brother…they grabbed Katja from her bed and rode off with her. I tried to follow but lost them in the darkness.” He collapsed onto a bench. Kaelon reached for his sword. “I must find her.” “Nay, Kaelon,” Aerik said, placing a restraining hand on his son’s arm. “I will go with Hagen to find his daughter. You will do better staying here with your mother and brothers.” Kaelon shook his head, fear and desperation filled his youthful face. “This is not your battle, Father. I am the one who should deal with Alaric.” “Your temper will only lead you into more trouble.” Aerik was already reaching for his boots and protective mail shirt. “Erik,” he said. Go saddle Magnus.” “But, Father,” Kaelon went on as he finished dressing. “At least let me go with you.” “Enough!” Aerik snapped. He knew the danger that lurked outside their door. Alaric and Emeric had gone too far this time. The moment had arrived for Aerik to mete out the appropriate punishment on the two. He would not place his son in the middle of it, nor did he want his son to be a part of it. “I will hear no more of it,” he said with a firmness that brooked no argument. “You will remain here.” Aerik saw how his harshness crushed his son’s determination. He softened his demeanor and went to Kaelon. “You are the oldest, the man of the house when I am away. I need you here to protect your mother and the younger ones.” “Aye, Father, I will obey your wishes.” He turned and locked gazes with Aerik. “Please find her and bring her home to me.” Aerik could only respond with a quick nod in what was more of an acknowledgement of his son’s request than a promise of success. He feared Katja was already beyond saving.

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Chapter Five Kara watched from the yard as Aerik and Hagen rode into the night. She stared down the path they traveled long after the sound of their horse’s pounding hoofs vanished, leaving an eerie stillness to settle over their homestead. She shivered and hastened into the house where she found her sons sitting around the table discussing what options their father and Hagen had when they caught up with Alaric and Emeric. “I would take my dagger and cut their throats!” Birgir said, swinging his arms in a stabbing motion. “Then I would--” “Birgir,” Kara interrupted as she placed a calming hand on his wild flailing. “I want no more talk of daggers or cutting throats this night.” It disturbed her to see how this affected her young son. She turned to Erik, who had not spoken a single word throughout the ordeal. “Please put Birgir in my bed and stay with him until he falls asleep.” Without a word, Erik nodded. Taking Birgir by the shoulders he led him into their parent’s bed closet. She turned her attention to Alekandar, her second born. “We’re going to need some water for when we break fast.” She handed him the near empty bucket. With an obedient nod, he took it from her and headed out the door. He took no more than two steps over the threshold and stopped. The bucket fell from his hand and clattered to the ground. “Mother,” he said, his voice shaking. “What is it?” she asked, coming behind him. When she saw what it was that froze him where he stood, she pulled him back and slammed the door, throwing down the latch. “Get in the bedroom with your brothers,” she ordered to the older two standing in front of her. Kara leaned against the door and began muttering something under her breath. Over and over she repeated her murmured plea. “Mother, what is it?” Kaelon questioned. “A Niding pole,” Alekandar said. Kaelon took Kara by the shoulders and moved her away from the door. “Do not go out there, Kaelon,” Kara warned. “The people who placed it there might still be lurking nearby.” “I brought this on our family.” He threw back the latch and flung the door open.

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He inspected the Nidstang with a combination of driving curiosity and warranted caution. The curse-pole stood nearly as tall as the highest longhouse roof ridge. Affixed to the top was a severed horse’s head, the blood still dripped like sap from the hacked flesh. He’d heard his father talk about them all his life but he had never seen one close up. No one had ever dared curse the house of Aerik with such a bold and deliberate action until now. Whoever did this must have the forces of the underworld standing behind them. There could be no other explanation. Striding closer, he circled the pole with slow, calculated steps and discovered the degrading insults and vile curses carved into the Hazelwood. It was everything he had heard it was. There was only one thing that confused him--the position of horse’s head. It faced away from the house instead of towards it, which, according to the ritual, was how it should have been directed. It made him wonder if the earth spirits themselves were not willing to vent their anger on the son of Thor and his family and turned the head in the direction of the perpetrators to show their displeasure. He heard his brother Erik’s strangled cry of anguish at the sight. He would be the one most affected by this senseless mutilation, Kaelon realized. He gripped the pole with hands strengthened from long hours of wielding a smith’s hammer and wrenched it from the ground, dragging it far enough away from the house until he could burn it in the morning. The house was unusually quiet when he came through the door. His brothers were nowhere to be found. He glanced to the pallets where they all normally slept. They were empty. “Have you sent the others to your bed?” Kara shook her head. “They are all gone. I have sent them away.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. In her hand she held at her side a slender-bladed sax, the weight of which he had balanced specifically for her when he forged the smaller sword. “I do not understand, Mother. Sent them where?” He reached for his sword. If his mother felt the need to wield a weapon then so must he. “As far as the Swans must take them to keep them safe.” “Good,” he said. “That is good. I am glad they will be safe from whatever it is that threatens us.” He felt the presence behind him and whirled around to face it. “Nay,” he screamed as the huge white wings wrapped around him, holding him in her tight-feathered embrace. “You must go too,” Kara said. “Mother, please,” he argued, struggling against his captor. “Let me stay and fight beside you.” “I cannot take that chance.” Her tears fell freely now as she pressed her fingertips to her lips then touched his cheek. He continued to struggle and fight. Feeling himself rising upward, his feet no longer touching the floor, he managed to loosen one arm and began to wave it wildly as he kicked and thrashed to free himself. “Mother!” He was swept away at a pace he could not comprehend. His home disappeared from his sight just as he saw it burst into flames. ***** Kara raised her hand in a goodbye salute. “May the gods be with you, my son,” she whispered as she watched the Swan carry him away.

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Feeling the overwhelming loss of her children, she looked around the empty house. Catching a glimpse of a small wooden horse Erik had carved for Birgir laying on the floor, she picked it up and gripped it tightly in her hand, crushing it against her breast. She already missed them more than she could bear. She smelled the smoke just moments before she saw the fire that created it. The thatched roof burst into flames and spread along the dry timbered beams overhead. Kara choked and coughed, and flung the door open to escape. Having no idea what waited for her outside, she panicked when she found every outbuilding ablaze. It prompted her to break into a dead run to free the screaming horses trapped inside the burning stable. She never saw the figure standing near the sheep pen, watching and waiting.

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Chapter Six Aerik battled against the rage that flowed like wildfire through his veins. As he surveyed the remains of his longhouse and outlying buildings, a mighty fury broke loose from tight constraints, unleashing abilities far and above his normal extraordinary capabilities. It was all so clear to him now. Whoever did this had lured him away and struck with such cunning and swiftness the deed had been accomplished before the warning bell could be sounded. The entire settlement lay in ruin. Just thinking of what he wanted to do to the perpetrators caused great pieces of wood to fly out of his path. Charred timbers soared through the air and tumbled walls parted as he moved through the smoldering rubble and chaos searching for members of his family. He stopped in his tracks, quaking with fear at the sight of the young male body lying face down, half hidden beneath a fallen roof timber. All he could see of the head was dark hair wet and matted with blood. Kaelon was his only dark-haired child. Aerik concentrated on the massive beam and it lifted away. He crouched and rolled the body toward him by a bloody shoulder. He gasped aloud at the familiar face. It was not his son, though it was a relative. It was Emeric, his foul, putrefied entrails spilling from his swollen gut as hollow, soulless eyes stared past Aerik into whatever afterlife waited for him. Still clutched in his hand was the hilt of a dagger, the sharp, slender blade covered with the grisly residue of drying blood and scraps of severed flesh. The vision of his dead nephew troubled him deeply, but what he found even more disturbing was the pace at which the body decayed. Had he not seen this oddity with his own eyes he would not have believed it. The flesh already crawled with a multitude of maggots and melted from the bones as if left to rot in the sun for days on end. The advanced condition of the decomposing body defied all logic. Or did it? There was one possible explanation for this abnormality – these young men were in fact the demons they were rumored to be. It explained a great deal about their past behavior. Aerik pushed his thoughts aside and moved on. There was still the matter of finding his wife and sons. There was nothing more he could do for Emeric. Upon hearing approaching footfalls, Kara was still cognizant enough to sense the presence of another and attempted to lift the slender-bladed sax that lay across her lap in one last valiant effort to defend her home. The weight of the blade was too much for her to lift in

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her weakened state, and it fell from her pale-knuckled fingers into the rocks and dirt at her side. The noise of the rolling blade shifting from her lap to the ground was enough to capture Aerik’s attention. He whirled around and cried out, “Kara!” as he ran to her side. Her eyes rolled open and tried to focus, and her lips formed his name as he kneeled beside her. A smile touched her mouth. He found her scarcely alive, cold and pale, and crumpled against the partially standing wattle-and-daub stable wall. With legs stretched straight out from her torso, her back slumped against the damaged stick and mud structure. Aerik sat back on his heels and carefully gathered her limp form into his arms. Her breaths fluttered like the faint beating of faery wings and he struggled to hear them. She stifled a weak cry as her head lolled against his mailed shoulder. Her skirt fell apart in shreds, exposing her thigh and the deep gash running from knee to groin. She had attempted to hold the flesh together with winding strips of cloth, but the wound was too great to be staunched. It soaked through the bandages, as if they had never been applied. Her life was ebbing. In all his life he never felt so helpless. His heart wrenched with impotent rage, and it terrified him to know there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, to change the destiny of this bitter moment. His gifts were useless on those he held most dear, and he cursed the gods for giving them to him in the first place. There was no need to speak what he held in his heart. She knew how he felt. She’d always known his feelings, more often before he knew them himself. Even now, she touched his hand, comforting him in this moment of her greatest challenge. Her fingers already lacked the warmth he had grown to expect from her caress. “Our sons,” she murmured, gathering her last vestiges of strength to go on. She swallowed past the dryness and whispered, “The Swans…” Aerik nodded in understanding. There had been only one other time when Kara had found it necessary to call upon the Swan-maidens to assure their sons’ safety during an attack on their settlement when there had been only four of them. The Swan-maidens had gathered their children into the feathered folds of their voluminous wings and spirited them away until the danger had passed. Although there had never been another cause to call upon them, he and Kara knew that the Swans were never too far away. “They live then,” he stated, relieved that he would not find his sons in similar manner as Emeric or their mother. His relief for his sons, however, did not lessen the grief he felt for the loss of his beloved and he was not sure if he could ever overcome one with the other. “They will be returned as before?” She shook her head. “The danger is too great for their return. I begged the gods to protect them and take them beyond Holdar’s reach.” “Holdar? Was he behind this as well as his sons?” “His resentment for you and yours goes deeper than ever thought. It eats at him like a sickness.” Her words were broken and stilted. “Now that he has tasted the blood of one victory I fear he will not stop until he has destroyed the lives of every one you hold dear.”

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She clutched at his chest, her fingers searching for the amulet she knew lay beneath the layers of mail shirt and tunic. Finding it, she spread her palm over the stone-encrusted Mjollnir. “It will help you find them.” She drew a single deep breath that amazed him with its strength and determination. Aerik felt her go limp in his arms as it flowed from her body in a slow, peaceful sigh of finality. He watched her spirit rise like the morning mist off the lake at dawn. It hovered over her, reluctant to leave Kara’s body. He wanted to reach for it, clutch at it, keep it with him, find a way to hold on to it forever. A part of him died with her instead. He lifted her lifeless form into his arms and climbed to his feet, cradling her against him with a gentleness he had never shown for anyone but her. The weight of her was of no consequence, as if her generous spirit had been the greatest, most significant part of her and this meager shell he now held was just a thin vessel in which she stored it during her stay on this middle earth. He walked slowly, cherishing these last moments of holding her in his arms. Aerik staggered away from the carnage and climbed to the highest hill outside of the devastated settlement. His shoulders sagged under the enormous weight of his grief. His wife murdered, his sons taken, his home burned to the ground, everyone and everything he held close was gone. There was nothing left of the buildings but charred support beams and smoldering rubble - the longhouse, the stable, the sauna, gone, all gone. From where he stood he could see the billowing pillars of foul black smoke climbing upward, filling the night sky with the smoldering reminder of his sacrifice. The faeries hovered nearby. He knew they were there, he heard them, their tiny voices chattered in broken whispers like the babblings of a thousand streams. They were wise enough to keep their distance, knowing he would not welcome their interference. But they remained near enough to watch as they waited to see what he would do. He dropped to his knees scarcely mindful of the sharp stones and pebbles cutting through the wool of his trousers, digging into his flesh, as he gently lowered his wife’s limp body to the ground. He touched her bloodless cheek and ran her fiery tresses through his fingers as he arranged them in neat strands across her shoulders. A mournful wail pierced the air and made all other living creatures scurry to seek shelter from the noise. There was nothing more frightening than an inconsolable demigod whose spirit had been shattered with one crushing blow. Even the faeries scattered, cringing as their little hands covered their tiny ears. Gossamer wings fluttered with excitement, carrying them to an even greater distance from the man they were sent to keep their eyes on. “Why!” Aerik screamed, shaking his fists and raising his face to Asgard where his forefathers dwelled. “Why?” he bellowed again, this time more challenging, more accusing, more demanding. He wanted answers and he would not stop screaming until he received them. He was supposed to have been a charmed one, the son of the Thor, his life woven by the Norns with threads of pure gold to signify his stature in this world.

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He walked Midgard, this middle earth, as a good, decent man who cherished his wife and family and filled his book of accomplishments with deeds his father could recite with pride. Never had he raised his sword in anger or for personal gain. When he struggled in the throes of battle it was always against the swells of evildoers and the wicked ways of men, protecting the innocents and weaker creatures of the land he walked. “What is it you expect of me?” he whispered in despair to the greater God Odin. “Why have you forsaken me? If it was I who displeased you then why punish my beloved Kara who had nothing but goodness in her heart?” The mention of her name brought him unbearable anguish. He trembled under the pain and his face contorted with such suffering it caused the winds to moan and the trees to bend beneath his monumental grief. Through his suffering he heard the snorting of a large animal and it caused him to raise his head to the sound. He found himself staring into the fiery gold eyes of an enormous white wolf every bit as large as his charger. Gracefully perched on the back of the huge beast there sat a beautiful woman with hair the color of quicksilver and sparking green eyes. Within the sheltered cradle of her loving arms, Kara’s fragile body lay limp and pale under the dazzling brilliance of her armored breastplate. “Who are you?” “I am Myst, the fortunate one chosen to escort my sister home,” she replied with a proud lift of her chin. “Where do you take her?” he asked. His voice trembled and cracked. “Valhalla,” she answered, sounding softly surprised. His first instinct was to strike a bargain, offer his life in exchange for Kara’s. He scrambled to find the right words. As though reading his thoughts, she said, “The time has come for Kara to return to her rightful place among us.” She heeled the wolf and reined him away. Aerik watched them rise into the night sky and disappear into the darkness. Never feeling so empty and alone, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed, crushed beneath a fresh wave of heartache. His tears splattered on the ground, searing the earth, leaving barren patches in their wake where nothing would ever grow again. He hung his head and wept the bitter tears of a man who found no reason to go on. A strange vapor the color and density of pitch manifested itself, trapping Aerik in a rising fog so dense he could not see his hand in front of his nose. It dimmed the stars and hid the rising crescent moon from his sight. He was trapped and disoriented in the dark cloud and no matter how he tried to brush the haze from around him it remained steadfast like a heavy shroud of ebony wool. “Your work is not done here,” a disembodied voice boomed. “Your sons still require your guidance and assistance.” “My sons are gone,” he stated, emphasizing every word with the bitterness he held in his heart. “Spirited away by the Swans. Taken to faraway places I know not where.” “You will know in good time,” the voice assured him.

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A spark of defiance sputtered and flickered to life. “I demand you tell me now,” Aerik bellowed as he climbed to his feet, punching his fist through the dense haze in the direction of the voice. Laughter rumbled so loudly that it shook the ground beneath Aerik’s feet. Flailing his arms, he staggered and stumbled in an effort to maintain his footing and remain standing. He soon realized his hopeless defense as the ground stretched out to greet him. He spiraled out of control in his descent to meet the earth. Landing with a hard thud, Aerik was brought to his knees for the second time that night, the first in abject grief and now in obedient servitude. Raising his fist to his chest, Aerik bowed his head in humble submission. “Forgive me, Oh Mighty One,” he implored. “My grief has turned me bitter and rash. How can I make amends for my foolish behavior?” “Follow your heart and the stones will show you the way.” ***** Holdar sneered, loving the way his mother’s bastard son had been brought to his knees. What a fool the good and noble Aerik was in wasting his precious breath paying homage to the wrong god. Hiding in the shadows, he held up his hand. From the delicate chain coiled around his fingers there dangled a diminutive silver Mjollnir. The four small stones imbedded in the amulet shone like tiny stars in the moonlight. “Show me the way, little stones.”

The Viking Stones

Dreamwalker By

Erika Kire

Dedication Much love to my kids, my parents, my dogs, my cats, and my friends. Special thanks to “Doost”, my co-writers, and my crit group. And to everyone who knows “He is Real” and has always turned the page to see what happens next…I love you all and can’t wait to do this again. XOXO Erika K.

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Prologue They felt like her husband’s hands, large and sure, rough but skilled as they gripped her thighs and pulled them apart. “Erik,” she whispered, all the breath in her body rushing past her lips as she felt him slowly crawl up the bed. She felt the cool silk of her nightgown rise up her legs, her hips, and over her belly. It rested just above her full breasts, giving him a clear view of her supple, feminine form. Storm heard him inhale deeply and grunt as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his tongue flicking out to taste her flesh, leaving a wake of damp fire and goose flesh. Her fingers curled around the soft cotton bed sheet, and she smiled in the darkness at his sweet agony, her head tossing from side to side. “Come on, baby,” she panted. “Shhh,” he said, blowing on her most sensitive skin. Her stomach tightened as his bearded face scraped the inside of her leg, her body writhing with the promise of relief. He hadn’t yet touched her, but his slow torment left her moaning. “Let me—” He parted her folds and allowed his tongue to delve slowly, agonizingly laving her moist pleasure. He kissed her waiting mound until she bucked, her hips urging him deeper, knees spreading, welcoming him into her most secret place. She felt his strong fingers tease her, caressing her slick, smooth opening. His finger rubbed around her little pearl, igniting her senses and making her shiver as she worked against his touch. She gasped as his finger slid inside her, her body needing the release. He kissed her knee as one thick finger became two. Grabbing her hip, he steadied her as he pushed slowly into her, a welcomed invasion to her tight, wet warmth. “Make love to me,” she begged as he thrust faster, gliding into her, stretching her walls and drawing her nearer to climax. “Yes,” he growled. Growled. Storm’s eyes popped open and she thrashed in bed, her legs kicking as the wolf’s head appeared on what was supposed to be her husband’s shoulders. “Not you,” she gasped, pulling down her nightgown. “Oh, God, not you.”

The Viking Stones: Dreamwalker

Chapter One San Antonio, Texas Present Day Erik Eriksson led his black quarter horse into the stable and pulled his leather gloves off with his teeth. “Another one?” Steve Canton asked the moment he saw Erik hand the horse over to one of the stable girls. With a sigh Erik turned, his large hand raking through his dark blonde hair. “Third time in two weeks I’ve had to repair the fence.” “Didja find the horses?” Erik nodded just as two dogs loped into the stable and began lapping water from a bucket. “Something must have spooked them for them to run all the way to the gulch,” Erik replied. “Damn kids ain’t got nothin’ better to do,” Steve grumbled. “There are tracks through the field, but I don’t know what the hell they’re from. Too big to be coyotes and wolves haven’t been seen around here in years.” Steve shrugged his thin shoulders. “Never know what people will have as pets these days. Hell, some days I’m surprised you don’t have ravens and wolves following you, Double E,” he winked. Erik smiled at Steve and shook his head. “You’ve been in the library, I see. You’ve been holding out on me for years, Canny. I didn’t think you could read.” “Ain’t much there but all that Norse myth crap. This is a ranch, not a Viking hall.” Erik appreciated Steve Canton for not kissing his ass. He respected Steve like a brother—a rather annoying gray-haired brother. They had been friends since Steve’s career as a horse breeder went belly-up, forcing him to sell his only good stud horse and take whatever work he could find. It was a humbling experience, one that Steve had struggled with for years. To make matters worse, Steve had suffered from skin cancer the last couple of years, but Erik didn’t know any man better with horses. Erik kept Steve on while he was sick since he considered Steve more of a friend than an employee. He had been there through

The Viking Stones: Dreamwalker

everything, and it was good to have someone who trusted him through the highs and the lowest of lows—and there had been some dark spots in recent years. “Where’s Harwell?” Erik asked as he swung to leave the stable. While Steve was undergoing treatment, however, Erik had relied on Drake Harwell to do most of the training. It was more of a favor to his bride than anything, since Drake’s father was one of the people backing her studies in South America, but Erik had been satisfied with Drake’s work. If nothing else, Drake certainly had a way with the ladies, and in recent years women were becoming more and more prominent around the ranch. “Haven’t seen him since about noon. Which is about the same time I saw Storm,” Steve winked. Erik made no reply. His work was done mostly in an office, so an afternoon spent riding the perimeter and repairing fences left him sore and in no mood for Steve’s teasing banter. “You and Samantha got this covered?” he asked, though he knew Steve was too proud to ask for help. He was one of the only people Erik trusted to water the horses for the night, especially since there had been trouble with the fences being torn down and one horse being injured. “Yes, sir. Go home and ravage your wife. I’ll call you if it looks like any of the mares are going to foal tonight. But you remember if them babies of hers come out with coal black hair, don’t say I didn’t tell you so, Double E,” Steve laughed to himself. “What are you implying?” Erik snarled through his teeth. He was a monolith in the stable, an imposing, and sinewy man towering over his lanky ranch hand. “You know I’m full of shit,” Steve grinned. He wiped his hand on his dusty jeans and held it out. “Come on, man. Forget I said anything.” “Watch the way you speak regarding my wife,” Erik snapped. He turned and walked out, his finger caressing the turquoise stone in his hammer amulet. Proud of his heritage, he had turned his ranch into a tribute to his roots, starting with the iron gates at the front of the dirt drive. The eight-legged horse symbolized Odin in his eyes, but to guests it was a sign of fast horses, which was the only kind that ever came from Sleipnir Ranch. As Erik approached the main house, he could see the bathroom light in the window, and he grinned to himself, visualizing Storm in the shower, her fingers massaging her scalp. He kicked off his boots and walked through the back door of his stone façade estate, entering the mudroom. The house smelled like sandalwood, which was a welcome change from the leather and alfalfa stench of the stables. Erik pulled his t-shirt up over his head as he jogged up the stairs. For a woman who had spent two years of her life showering with the Indians in the Andes Mountains and backpacking along the banks of the Amazon River, Storm coveted the master bath. “Woman,” he said, his voice rumbling like thunder as he threw open the bathroom door. “You better be naked and ready ‘cause you’re man is here.” Storm let out a yelp when Erik entered the steamy bathroom, a fluffy towel covering all the parts he wanted to see.

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“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, walking over to slap him on the arm before she kissed his rough cheek. “Some day I’m going to be on the phone with my sister and you’re going to pull your goofy-ass crap.” “And then your sister will know how fortunate you truly are living under my roof.” Storm snorted. “You don’t think honor and obey is going to happen now, do you?” “I’ve lost hope, woman,” Erik sighed. He couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around her, crushing her full breasts to his chest. “By the Gods, you smell good,” he said as he pulled hairpins out of her long, chestnut hair and sank his face into the crook of her neck. “And you smell like a horse.” Erik tossed his dusty clothes into a wicker hamper and stepped into the shower. “Join me.” “I’m putting on lotion,” she answered. When he had first met Storm three years ago, she had been a shorthaired biologist studying anacondas in South America. A friend of a friend had convinced her to come to one of Erik’s campfire parties where he fell for her the moment she told him that if he expected a roll in the hay before the end of the night, he was sorely mistaken. He had merely nodded as they stood around a blazing fire, her turquoise eyes sparkling in the light. A creation of the Gods, he had silently mused, sent to torment mortal men. It had nearly killed Erik when he saw her flirting with Steve Canton, who was so nervous around her that he couldn’t speak without clearing his throat every few seconds. Women didn’t deny Erik Eriksson. His first wife had told him once that whereas other men considered themselves gods, she had married one. He was aggressive and self-assured, which was why by the time he turned thirty he owned a three-hundred-acre ranch west of San Antonio, Texas. His first wife and her family couldn’t have been happier. Erik wrapped a towel around his hips and watched Storm apply lotion to her elbows. She had put her hair back up, and as she leaned over the sink to grab a tissue he began removing the pins again. “You,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eyes, “are up to no good.” Erik grunted, raking his hands through her damp hair. With a sly smile, Storm leaned forward and dropped the towel to the small of her back. “Here,” she said as she handed him the lotion bottle. Looking at her finely toned back sent a roar of desire through his veins. He rubbed his hands together, warming the fragrant lotion as he studied her, drinking in the length of her slender form. A few dark hairs had escaped their hairpin and fell at the nape of her neck, drawing his eyes to her shoulders. Storm gazed at him over her shoulder and grinned slyly, knowing exactly what she did to him. With his hands on her upper arms, Erik leaned into her, pressing his growing erection into the small of her back as he massaged her shoulders. Her skin was still hot from her bath, every inch of her silky and fresh, waiting to be devoured. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. Her breaths came quicker and he couldn’t stand it a moment longer. With his fingertips slick with lotion he reached between her legs and felt her already damp.

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“I should drain the bathtub,” Storm said as her hair fell down her shoulders and Erik’s hand slipped beneath the towel, teasing the curve of her buttocks down to her thigh. “You always did like playing hard to get,” Erik murmured as he loosened the towel around her waist and kissed her cheek. He brought her hand down to his manhood and encouraged her to stroke him. “This can’t wait.” “It will just take a moment.” “Leave it,” he said as he scooped her up and walked her into the bedroom. “Another headache?” he asked as he tossed the disheveled quilt back and lay Storm down and eyed a bottle of Tylenol and glass of water on the nightstand. The sheets were already wrinkled and he knew she had been napping again. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she breathed, wriggling from her towel as he ran his thumb in circles around her breasts, teasing the hardened peak he wanted to bite and suckle. Her skin was soft and fragrant from her bath, and she shivered as his mouth fit around her nipple. Instantly he felt her hands rake through his hair, which made his cock jerk to life. The amulet skimmed along her stomach and breasts as he kissed her. The contrast between his warm lips and the smooth, cold surface of metal and jewel made her hips rise in anticipation. She fumbled to remove his towel, and her need to feel him inside of her made him almost unable to control himself. Erik felt her hand grasp his manhood, her wrist twisting slightly as she stroked him. He exhaled in her ear as he swept his hand between her legs and parted her thighs, finding her smooth center ready to accept him. Storm released his arousal once she felt him shift his weight, and she ran her thumbs along his cheeks, kissing him as he teased her moist opening with the head of his cock. She sighed his name, squirming beneath him while he brushed the palm of his hand over her taut nipple. His tongue pushed between her parted lips as he thrust hard into her, feeling her body grip him as he rested deep inside of her. Erik moved slowly, just as she wanted at first. Then, he pulled out completely, leaving her empty body moaning with need. He felt her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he entered her again, sinking inch by inch into the heat of her center. Her legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him deeper as he slid in and out, teasing her with long, slow strokes followed by fervent thrusts that made her legs lock around his back. “I’m canceling your flight,” he said as he nipped the side of her neck. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of this country for a month.” Storm groaned in response, her body moving with his to lengthen each stroke. She opened her eyes as he made love to her, her hands still cupping his face. He kissed her deeply, plunging into her mouth, knowing from her soft, surrendering sounds that she was close to climax. Shifting his weight, he grabbed her right leg and pushed her knee up so that each thrust hit the spot where she needed him most. Within moments her body convulsed beneath him, bringing him to climax just as she cried out. For a long while he rested his head on her chest and listened to her breathe, closing his eyes as she ran her fingernails over his shoulders and down the middle of his back.

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“I’m serious,” he said before he fell asleep with Storm gathered in his arms, her warm breaths tickling his chest. He kissed her forehead one last time. “I don’t want you going away again.” “I know,” she murmured, her words slurred with exhaustion. “But he can’t follow me there.” ***** Coyotes howling in the distance woke Storm with a start. She shivered as she sat up in bed, finding Erik fast asleep beside her. He didn’t wake as she slid her feet on the cold hardwood floor and slowly opened the pine dresser. She chided herself for being able to follow thirty-foot snakes through wetlands but jumping every time she heard the forlorn cry of a coyote. She slipped into the satin pajamas her sister had given her as a joke for her bachelorette party. It was a mismatched pair with Viking helmets on the pants and bucking broncos on the button-down shirt. Hearing Erik inhale deeply, she turned to see him sitting up in bed. “Everything okay?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his bearded face. She nodded. “The coyotes woke me.” He studied her in the moonlight for a moment. “Storm, you know these are only dreams—” “I can feel it,” she said before he finished. “When I wake…never mind.” “Storm—” “I was going to make some tea. You want something?” “You,” he said with a sly smile before he flopped down and turned on his side. Storm rolled her eyes. She twisted her hair into a bun as she trotted down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. She liked that Erik kept the windows open when it was warm enough because the sound of crickets was the only thing that could lull her to sleep. There was something romantic about waking up and seeing the gossamer curtains floating in the night breeze, the white fabric turned gold in the firelight as Erik lay with his arm around her. Even though the weather was nice enough for the windows to be open Storm found it relaxing to watch the embers pop. Storm made her cup of tea and went to the kitchen window where she could see the stars in the clear night sky. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with Sleipnir Ranch. She sipped her chamomile tea and couldn’t imagine ever living in a city again. Through the open window she heard Steve in the distance calling to Loki, one of Erik’s wolfhounds. A dark, four-legged figure loped past the window, its head bowed and tail sticking straight out. Storm squinted to get a better look before it disappeared beneath the shadows of the surrounding oak trees. Storm smiled to herself. Loki was always disappearing for hours in search of rabbits around the property. He was nearly ten and didn’t have the stamina to catch anything, but just like his owner he was stubborn. Leaving her mug on the kitchen counter, she opened the sliding glass door and padded onto the wraparound porch, making kissing sounds to call the dog. She stepped down the first step and hugged her body with one arm while holding the other out to Loki.

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“Come on, it’s chilly, Lok,” she said under her breath, feeling the wind pick up. As soon as her bare feet touched the cool grass Loki appeared, bounding out of darkness until he stood before her, his eyes glinting beneath the moonlight. “How about a treat and then back to Steve?” Storm turned and started up the stairs again when something wound around her stomach and yanked her back. She screamed, but the air was punched from her lungs and the sound came out as nothing more than a rasp. Teeth clamped down on her sleeve, nostrils blowing hot air on her flesh as something furry brushed past her exposed arm. A clawed hand snaked around and covered her mouth, long nails threatening to pierce her cheek. Instinctively she began kicking and fighting, wrenching her head from side to side as she screamed again, this time her voice tearing through the night. “Mine,” she heard something growl in her ear, and her eyes widened. She wasn’t dreaming. She knew she wasn’t dreaming this time. A crack of thunder tore through the cool, clear night and paralyzed her assailant. The earth trembled as though a hammer had shaken the entire ranch. Before Storm knew what had happened, she fell to the ground. “Get inside,” Erik commanded. Storm crawled on her hands and knees toward the house as her husband faced the snarling beast. She turned when she reached the stairs and watched them struggle. Erik pushed the figure back, but it lunged forward, striking Erik across the chest with a vicious swipe of its clawed hand. Erik stumbled backwards, holding one hand to the fresh wound. The entity growled and crouched down, preparing to attack again. Something silver flashed in the figure’s right hand, and Storm sprang up on the stairs, screaming to Erik. Before she had managed to run two steps, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her to sit. “Stay here, daughter,” the man thundered before his massive silhouette ran past her, his sword raised. The beast growled when it saw someone sprinting across the backyard. With a yelp, it bounded away, dropping on all fours like a dog before it leapt over the fence and disappeared into the brush. Erik still held his hand to his chest as he approached the imposing figure that had sheathed his sword. Storm watched from her place on the steps as they both walked from shadows into moonlight. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her husband and another man who was his larger replica, save a few gray hairs threaded through a longer beard and broader shoulders. “Father,” she heard Erik say before she leaned back on the stairs and felt herself drift into darkness.

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Chapter Two “How did you get here?” Erik asked over his shoulder as he scooped Storm up and cradled her like a child. He gritted his teeth as he held her against his wounded chest, but nothing short of death would make him release her. “I sensed you were in danger,” his father answered as he followed Erik into the house. For years Erik had seen fragments of his family, though none of it made sense to him. He thought he was recalling bits and pieces of books and movies, not family history. He glanced down at the hammer amulet he had worn for as long as he could remember, then over his shoulder at his father. “How are they? Have you found the rest?” Aerik shook his head. “Not yet.” For a moment father and son stood in silence, both guarding Storm. “It was after her,” Erik mumbled. “Yes, but it wasn’t attempting to kill her.” Erik ran his fingers along the back of Storm’s hand. Not until he covered her with a blanket did he realize he was still bleeding, the scratch marks puckering and his skin beginning to bruise. “How did you know?” Erik questioned, turning to face his father. Aerik’s visage was just as Erik had remembered. There was still kindness in his light blue eyes, but his stature made strangers wary of him. They had been close, Erik knew, and it wasn’t until he saw that bearded face again that Erik realized how much he had missed his family. “The way I’ve always known,” Aerik answered. He grabbed his son by the shoulder and studied the wounds, holding his own hand near the injuries. The five marks were perfectly spaced to match the width of his hand, but the injury was in no way human. “You’re fortunate you were standing at a distance,” Aerik said. His eyes were drawn to the amulet hanging inches below Erik’s throat. “And that it didn’t strike any higher.” “What the hell was that thing?” Erik questioned, tucking the silver hammer back into his ruined shirt. “Holdar is at work,” Aerik answered grimly as he studied Storm. Erik turned away and ran his fingers along Storm’s cheek as she stirred but didn’t wake.

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“Holdar,” he repeated, feeling a twinge of anger when he spoke that name. It meant something, but what he wasn’t certain. “My half-brother,” Aerik replied. “I have no doubt he is behind this. He is the reason you and your brothers were spirited away so long ago.” Erik sat and thought for a moment. He only partially remembered the swan maidens and the voyage to his new life. “Why would your half-brother send someone to attack my wife?” “Was she attacked?” Erik’s brow furrowed. “Of course she was.” “If it wanted to kill her it would have done so.” Erik heard people shouting and knew the commotion in the backyard had drawn Steve and several other grooms from the stable to the house. He rose to his feet and went to the window. “You okay?” Steve shouted as he stood below the window. “Coyotes,” Erik answered before he turned away and stared at his father. His eyes were drawn to the amulet Aerik wore and the memories it stirred within Erik’s mind. He had vivid recollections of things he thought he had made up; of dark blue water and beautifully crafted ships, families crouched around fires and hunts with his father and three brothers—faces he had only seen in his dreams but had always known were real. “She’s been having dreams,” Erik muttered over his shoulder before he peered out the window again. The empty fields looked like black oceans stretching as far as his eyes could see. “Right after we were married she started waking in the night in terror.” “What does she dream?” “She won’t tell me.” He twisted around before Aerik could comment. “It’s the same way it was with you, Mother, Alekandar…I can’t see what she sees and I’m not sure why.” “She’s family, but she’s not blood.” “I know.” “Before you were married…?” Erik exhaled. “I could see her dreams then. I suppose our vows made her dreams sacred.” “Does she know?” Aerik said, nodding, his eyes fixed on the amulet around his son’s neck. Erik tapped his fingers together. “I considered not telling her, but I love her too much to lie to her about my past. At first she thought it was a ruse, but the more we talked the more she wondered. And then one night, when she dreamed of a Viking ship and I stood with her on the bow…she believed.” “That was risky, my son.” “You should expect nothing less of your children.” His father grinned. “I suppose so.” They remained silent for a while before Aerik’s expression turned sullen. “Why does she keep secrets from her husband?” Erik crossed his arms. “It’s not how it used to be, Father.” “A woman should tell her husband when she’s troubled.” Aerik’s hardened expression softened. “Her face reminds me of your mother.”

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Erik smiled, remembering a woman with dark red hair and deep blue eyes. “And just as stubborn,” he chuckled, stroking his dark blonde beard. “How long have you been married?” “Four months,” Erik answered as he turned to face Storm and his father again. He sat on the edge of the bed again and watched her sleep. “She’s my second wife.” Aerik met his son’s forlorn gaze. “Her…transportation…overturned in a ditch. She—and our son—both passed.” “Your son?” Aerik asked softly. “Unborn,” Erik answered. “How do you know it was a son?” “They have ways. Not magical ways, but ways. It’s difficult to explain.” “No children yet?” “No,” Erik exhaled. “Not yet.” Aerik nodded and touched the amulet around his neck, his fingers grazing over his chest. “She’s always here. You never lose the ones you love, no matter what mirth and fortune the future brings.” Storm groaned, her legs squirming beneath the blankets. Taking her hand in his, Erik closed his eyes and allowed his chin to fall to his chest as he walked into a world of half-sleep. ***** Night disappeared and a glade formed. Pine trees were barely visible beyond the shroud of mist. Storm turned in a full circle, her bare feet cushioned by moss. There was nothing to tell her where she was, but somehow she knew. This was Ecuador, these were the Andes. “Erik?” she called, eyes flitting around. The cold made her shiver, and she wished she had a thick blanket draped over her satin pajamas. A shadow moved into sight, lurking within the mist. Storm’s eyes widened, but her voice disappeared and her feet refused to move. Her muscles tensed as her heart pounded. Slowly the earth began to disappear beneath her until she was suspended, her body buoyant as though she were floating in water. Strong, gloved hands gripped her hips, fingers inching toward her belly. She felt hot breaths tickling her neck and her eyes closed. “You came for me,” she smiled, every muscle relaxing as she leaned back, pressing into the comfort only Erik could provide. He buried his face in her long, dark hair and exhaled against the shell of her ear, kissing her softly as his hands traveled up her torso, leather-clad fingers slipping between the button holes and caressing her stomach and ribs. His cool touch made her senses reel, breath catching in her throat. “Mine,” he whispered as he grabbed her left hand and grasped her wedding ring, gently turning it, drawing it over her knuckle. Thunder rumbled in the distance, startling Storm. Her eyes opened and her gaze was drawn downward to the dark, hirsute hand clasped over hers. She gasped, remembering the beast in the night that had assaulted Erik. *****

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Erik’s eyes opened at the same moment Storm inhaled sharply and sat up in bed. Her expression was sheer terror as she looked wildly around the room, first finding Aerik before her gaze settled on her husband. “You’re bleeding,” she gasped, reaching out to touch him. “I’m fine,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “What happened?” she asked as she stared past him. Erik followed her gaze and nodded to his father, who turned and stepped out of the room, allowing them privacy. “That thing in the backyard, is that what you see in your dreams?” Storm pursed her lips and started to shake her head. “Storm.” “I don’t see anything,” she said defensively as she rose to her feet and walked into the bathroom. Erik followed her and watched her take hydrogen peroxide from the medicine cabinet. “Then what happens?” “Nothing,” she mumbled as she slammed the cabinet door shut and turned to face him. “Tell me.” “Sit, before that becomes infected.” Erik exhaled hard as he returned to their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “Clearly you see something, otherwise you wouldn’t wake up in terror and have these pounding headaches.” “They’re just dreams,” she replied as she doused several cotton balls and pressed them to his chest. Erik ran his hand through his dark blonde hair. “Dreams that attack you in the yard?” He glanced down at the wounds on his chest. “That thing was about to drag you off into the woods.” “Do we have to discuss this?” she mumbled. “For Christ’s sake. I leave in a week and you want to talk about my dreams?” For as much as he loved her, Erik found himself constantly at odds over Storm’s safety. She argued that if she could put a transmitter on a thirty-foot snake that she was doing a pretty damn good job of holding her own, while Erik liked to remind her of her first travels to Europe when she was promptly mugged. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said, being as civil as possible despite his hot-blooded temper ready to explode. “You know that.” “Yeah, and you forget what century this is, Erik. I’m not obeying your word.” “I want to protect you,” he said, his hands locking around her wrists. His gaze flashed to her stomach before he met her eye again. “And I can’t do that if you leave. Listen to me, Storm, when you passed out I tried to see what you see.” Storm frowned at him, her fingers caressing his bearded face as she gazed into his light eyes. As he stood and wrapped his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder. Erik had been honest with her after the first time she woke screaming. At first she didn’t want him to see what she dreamed, but after several more nightmares she begged him to stop them.

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He could do nothing, as her visions to his eyes were merely mist. On nights like this when there was a werewolf between her legs she was grateful. The last thing she wanted Erik to see was a man with the head of a wolf pleasuring her. “And what did you see?” He held her tighter. “Not nearly enough.” Storm inhaled a harsh breath, comforted by Erik’s hand at the back of her head. “You need to tell me more about what you see.” Their conversation ended with someone pounding at the front door. “Erik! Storm!” they heard Drake Harwell shout. “What the hell is going on?” Storm rose to her feet, but Erik caught her by the wrist. “Stay here,” he said as he pulled his torn shirt over his head and snatched a new one from their dresser. His father was standing at the end of the hallway. With a nod to his son, he turned and walked away. “Father?” Erik questioned. Aerik turned and lifted his amulet. “I’m here with you,” he said before he disappeared into the room at the end of the hall. Drake appeared frantic once Erik answered the door, his dark eyes darting around. He glanced past Erik and swallowed hard. “Where’s Storm?” “She’s fine,” Erik answered. “She saw a coyote in the yard and it wouldn’t leave. Must have pups someplace close.” Drake nodded, fidgeting with the long sleeves of his button-down shirt. “Well, then, I’ll see if Steve needs help.” Erik shifted his weight. “He said you’ve been gone since noon.” “Yeah, I’ve been chasing the vet all day. He was supposed to check on Baldur, but apparently he had other rounds to make.” He looked past Erik again, and when Erik turned he saw Storm descending the stairs, her satin pajamas covered with a soft terrycloth robe. “Hey,” she said with a weak smile. “You okay?” Drake asked. “I heard you screaming when I pulled up to the stable.” “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Drake.” “Good, I told my father you were ready to join him in Chile. He can’t wait to have you back. Of course, he says nothing about seeing me.” “I’ll see him soon,” Storm replied as Erik put his arm around her. “Glad you’re okay. Goodnight, then.” Drake responded as he turned and bounded down the front porch.

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Chapter Three “What happened to your father?” Storm asked as she stood barefooted in the kitchen, poking scrambled eggs in the frying pan. Erik walked up behind her and kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine as his rough face brushed against her skin. “Not sure. Why?” “Just wondering,” she shrugged, seeing the remorse in his eyes. She knew that Erik missed his father, whom he hadn’t seen in years. “I didn’t have a chance to say anything to him...after last night.” Erik’s hand snaked around to her abdomen, fingers stroking circles around her bellybutton. “Another time,” he said, catching her earlobe with his teeth. He gave her a playful nip before kissing her neck, his tongue tickling her. “His amulet has your stone. The other ones, they belong to your brothers, right?” He grunted in her ear and kissed her again, which made her laugh. “Go sit down, you pillaging barbarian,” she teased as she tapped him on the cheek. “My Viking blood cannot be denied, woman,” he replied, holding her tighter. “What did I tell you on our wedding night?” “Prepare to be ravaged twice a day,” she said before she kissed his lips. “And I said make it three and I’ll keep you.” “You’re a hard-headed woman,” he rumbled. Storm closed her eyes for a moment, her head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. “I’m going to serve you burnt eggs for breakfast if you keep this up.” Erik turned off the stove with one hand while unbuttoning her satin pajama top with the other, his mouth pressing against her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her. She felt his arousal against the small of her back as he locked her body firmly against his. “Let me touch you,” she groaned, but Erik silently refused as he tugged her shirt away from her shoulder and kissed her, hot and wet along her collarbone. He cupped her breast with his thick hand, his long fingers teasing her hardened nipples with soft, steady caresses. She reached back and touched his face, feeling him kiss her, sucking and kissing her fingertips, sending bolts of lightning through her belly, down to the spot between her legs that was already wet with the promise of him being inside of her.

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Storm gasped as she felt the palm of his hand slide down her ribs, skimming along her abdomen to her cleft. He pulled her pajama pants away and she parted her legs at once, greedily inviting him in as he groaned in her ear. He stroked her clit, drawing circles around her throbbing mound as she stood helpless against him. Fire ran through her veins as she trembled and moaned to his touch, barely able to stand. “Turn around,” he ordered, giving her no chance to respond as he lifted her onto the countertop and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her breasts and neck as she ran her hands through his hair and savored his affection. “I want to come when you’re inside me,” she whispered, yanking at his belt. Erik unzipped his fly and scooted Storm closer to the edge. She had barely touched his arousal when she felt him enter her, thick and hard with waiting desire. The moment she felt him buried deep she cried out, in surprise and in the pure ecstasy of knowing he needed her. His passion was overwhelming, his short, quick thrusts tightening the coil she felt building between her legs. Erik gripped her buttocks, steadying her as he pumped into her, kissing her lips so forcefully that he muffled her passionate cries. Storm ran her hands down his shoulders and back, feeling his long, corded muscles beneath her fingers. She clung to him, to this man who would be hers for the rest of her life, giving her greater pleasures than any man had ever provided, both intimately and emotionally. “Storm, I love you,” Erik breathed in her ear. “I love you too,” she quavered, her body rocking as he climaxed within her. “You need to trust me,” he said as he buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. She climaxed before she could answer, her whole body trembling as she went limp in his grasp, attempting to catch her breath. “I do trust you,” she said as she closed her eyes and rested, enjoying the sensation of his fingertips running along her spine. “Then tonight you need to tell me everything you see,” he said as he kissed her one last time and helped her down. “Erik—” He held her chin in his hand and looked sternly into her eyes. “Everything,” he said before he kissed her knuckles and dressed himself, preparing to start his day’s work.

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Chapter Four It was almost noon before Storm finally showered and left the house. She couldn’t finish reading the reports or studying the pictures Loring Harwell had sent her from South America. The start of another headache was making it impossible to concentrate, and after she read the first paragraph three times she gave up and returned the documents to their folder, deciding she would sift through her work tomorrow. Her home office was a portion of the basement Erik had furnished for her once she had moved in. He used it for storage, so it still had veterinary records and expenses tucked away in filing cabinets, but for the most part it was her haven of herpetology books and the biology guides written by her mentor, Loring Harwell, and some of her fellow researchers—”the boring stuff” as Erik would say. She missed the llanos of Venezuela and field research, but she was ever grateful to Loring for keeping her on the conservation project. He allowed her to analyze biological data from her home computer rather than having her spend her honeymoon trudging through swamps. Loring told her that if she wanted to take a few years off she could rejoin them whenever she was ready. Or, if she preferred, she could continue working in Texas and lecturing at the University in San Antonio. He told her that he understood she was still young, but now that she was married she had other priorities. Storm didn’t know what she wanted. When she and Erik had begun dating they had decided to take on a ‘whatever happens may be’ stance a few months before the wedding. She knew that Erik wanted a family. She did too, but after months of nothing but little pink negative signs Storm was ready to help her colleagues finish up for the season in the Amazon and then focus on a family. She held one of the clay figurines Loring had sent to her several days ago and sighed, remembering the markets she had perused for pottery and blankets. As a wedding gift Loring and Drake had given her an effigy vessel made by the native Hiwi people. Holding it made her long for the rainforest and marshlands she had known for so long. “Some day,” she sighed as she carried the figurine upstairs and placed it on her crowded dresser next to the rest of them. She brushed red dust from her fingers and frowned at the hairline crack through the middle of her newest treasure. She’d have to remind Erik to get her some glue to repair it before the effigy split in half.

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The only figure she wanted to be rid of was a little fertility doll with six breasts. It was buried somewhere in a drawer of panties and half-finished birth control pills where she didn’t have to be reminded of its unfulfilled duties. Storm rubbed her temples, wishing her sister hadn’t cancelled their lunch. Other than Samantha, who was only fifteen, Storm was the only woman on the ranch. Some girl time spent shopping or getting pedicures definitely couldn’t hurt, she thought as she forced herself up from her desk chair. Storm yawned as she trotted down the front steps. She heard Steve laughing in the stable as usual and made a beeline in hopes of finding Erik nearby. “There she is,” Drake said before she crossed beneath the pine trees and walked into the stable office. “My, my, don’t you look all dolled up in that flowy skirt. I didn’t think you scientific types owned girly clothes.” “I’m just full of surprises,” Storm smiled over her shoulder. She slowed her pace, seeing Drake had collected the mail from town. “Have you seen Erik?” Drake shook his head and grimaced as he approached, holding his hand over his right side. “I’ve been looking for him. The repair he made to the fence collapsed overnight.” “What happened to you?” she asked. “You’re walking like a zombie.” “What are you? The zombie expert?” “Something like that. Did somebody finally catch you with their woman?” He shook his head and laughed out loud. “Scratched myself on the barbed wire, but I like your story better. I’ll live.” “When did you do that?” He shrugged. “The other night. My fault. Don’t tell the big boss man.” Brows furrowed, Storm frowned, feeling her heart begin to race. She knew the fence hadn’t merely collapsed. It was the werebeast, the thing that had attempted to drag her away in the night. She held back a shudder thinking of how it had held onto her, growling possessively in her ear. Drake handed her several envelopes and a small, battered box. “You look tired, Storm. Everything okay?” She forced herself to nod. “I’m a little disappointed. My sister was supposed to come by today but they had a rush of women come into the birthing center.” “Must be a good day for babies to be born,” Drake replied. “I guess.” Drake removed his leather cowboy hat and ran his hand through the thick, black hair that touched his shoulders. With a smile he added, “Isn’t that what honeymooners are supposed to be thinking of? Babies and cribs and all that great stuff?” “Maybe sixty years ago,” she grinned back. He wasn’t the first person to ask her in a roundabout way when she and Erik were planning to start a family, but as far as Storm was concerned it wasn’t anyone’s business. “Am I being a little archaic for you, modern day woman?” “I always thought you were joking when you said you wanted a woman to do your laundry and make your supper.” Drake shrugged and shuffled alongside Storm toward the stable office. “You know, it still surprises me that a woman like you ever fell into that whole marriage trap in the first

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place. I thought for sure you’d be wading through Venezuela for the next thirty years and then settle down when you were ready to retire.” Storm chuckled to herself. “Then who would I marry, Drake? An anaconda or a fellow researcher?” Drake raised an eyebrow. “Judging by the size and address on that box it might just be a proposal,” he teased. Storm ran her finger along the address and grinned. There was too much dirt to read the name, but the postal stamps made it clear where it had come from. “Probably another statue from your father. You coming inside?” Drake shook his head. “I promised Steve I’d help him on the track for the rest of the day, but first I need to finish repairing the fence.” “And get a haircut. I’ve never seen you so shaggy in my life.” Drake shrugged. “Yes, ma’am. You get some rest, Storm. I’m worried about you.” She smiled as she glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks, Drake. I appreciate that.” ***** “Where’s Erik?” Samantha looked up from her coffee and smiled. Storm couldn’t remember a day when she hadn’t seen Steve’s stepdaughter with a double shot of something in her hand. So much for the importance of her fifteen-year-old bones. “On the phone.” The little brunette’s eyes fixed on the package in Storm’s hands. “What’s that?” “Don’t know yet.” Storm placed the mail and the box on a filing cabinet and peeked inside Erik’s office. He was on the phone, sitting on his desk with his back to her. The moment she knocked he turned and held up his index finger. There was nothing Storm loved better than hearing Erik on the phone. He made every effort to sound more like a Texan than a Norseman, and most of the time his accent sounded thicker than the ranch workers born and bred on the range. She trotted around his desk and kissed her own finger, pressing it to his cheek before she ransacked his desk in search of scissors or a letter opener. “Lunch?” he mouthed before speaking into the phone. His eyes swept down her body, settling briefly on her long skirt. “Cancelled,” she whispered as she snatched up a letter opener shaped like a small sword. He frowned and tapped his wristwatch, which instantly reminded Storm that he had a lunch meeting for the afternoon. He usually scheduled important business when her sister was coming over so that they could have their uninterrupted woman time. “Hold on a moment, Ron,” Erik said before he pulled the phone away from his ear. He locked his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck, his teeth grazing just below her ear. Containing her laugh, Storm struggled out of his grasp and gave him a warning look, to which he bent over, pulled a riding crop from his bottom drawer, and tapped her on the butt. Storm leaned over the desk and pressed the hold button on the phone. “You’re lucky you’re on the phone.”

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“Am I?” “I’d beat you senseless.” With a wicked smirk, Erik handed her the riding crop. “I know how you feel about your horses. Why do you have this in your desk drawer?” “To discipline my insolent wife,” Erik retorted. Storm’s turquoise eyes flashed to the phone. “How long can you keep him on hold?” Erik picked the phone up almost instantly. “Ron, my wife and I are having a disagreement. If she doesn’t kill me, I’ll call you back.” The phone was back in the cradle before Ron ever had a chance to respond. “Oh, thank you, my darling husband,” Storm laughed as she hit Erik’s thigh with the crop. His eyes narrowed as he caught the leather end and gave it a tug. With a devilish grin, Storm yanked it back and tapped the black rubber handle in the palm of her hand. “You know,” Storm said as she moved folders and a desk organizer out of the way so she could sit on the edge of his desk. She grinned, knowing her control over Erik as she ran her fingers over the leather keeper. “There’s a tribe in South America called the Puinave. They believe that Túpana, the Creator, pulled them through a hole in the earth and brought them into being,” she said as she dragged the triangular leather tip from Erik’s inner knee up to his groin. His legs spread at her touch, his eyes fixed on her wrist as she ran a feather-light trail from his cock straining against his jeans down his thigh. When she drew away, Erik rose to his feet, but Storm stayed him by pointing the tip at his chest. She ran the end past his chin. “Túpana soon found that men were ungrateful, and after he taught them the ways of the world, they plotted to murder him, so he created a goddess,” Storm paused, her eyes locking on Erik’s as she tapped him on the bicep. “The goddess Yopinai gave women a special power.” “Fascinating,” Erik murmured as he snatched the crop from her hand and tossed it aside. He swept his arm around her and captured her mouth, his tongue immediately finding hers. Storm freed his erection while Erik reached for her beneath her fitted blouse, his hands teasing her breasts through her demi bra. He found her nipples already hard, waiting for his tongue and lips to savor her taste and set her nerves on fire. Erik cupped her breast, his wide hand and long fingers fitting perfectly over the rounded firmness of her body. She exhaled as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and he leaned her back on his desk. With one hand supporting her, he ran his fingers beneath her skirt, gripping her thigh until he stood between her legs. He slowly stroked her through her cotton panties, grunting at the sensation of the damp fabric clinging to her swollen flesh as he bent and took her nipple between his teeth. Storm moaned quietly, her fingers tangling in Erik’s dark blonde hair as his teeth grazed her nipple. His tongue swirled and teased the already hardened peak of her breast, causing her to swear under her breath. Erik groaned as he traced her opening, teasing but not quite pleasuring her aching mound. “You’re holding back,” Erik said against her shoulder. “Th-there was someone out there when I walked in,” Storm panted.

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Erik smiled and kissed her throat. “Anyone says a damn thing and they can look for employment elsewhere,” he murmured, silencing her with a possessive kiss. Pushing her panties aside, Storm grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward, making it perfectly clear that she wasn’t willing to wait another moment. Erik gripped her hips as she guided him into her tight, wet opening, both of them watching as he filled her. He clenched his teeth as he buried himself to the hilt, his self-control nearly vanquished by Storm’s soft moan of surrendering pleasure. Easing her back on his desk, Erik slowly stroked her with his thickness. He used the smooth desk surface and her soft skirt to his advantage and slid her onto his erection until Storm’s breaths were so quick and harsh that he knew she was close. “Watch me fill you,” he said between his teeth as their tempo increased. Storm brought her head forward to watch him make love to her. She placed one hand low on his belly for balance and control of his thrusts, as her clit was so sensitive, her body so slick with desire she trembled. Seeing his cock between her legs made her forget herself, and with a whimper her head fell back and she released a muffled scream of ecstasy. Once he felt Storm’s climax Erik held back, his pace slowing. He brought her shirt up to her neck and kneaded her firm breasts, feeling her quiver at his touch. With the attention momentarily removed from her sensitive mound, he aroused her again through another of her erogenous zones, preparing to bring her to her second climax. Storm forced herself to sit upright so she could touch his face and run her hands through his hair. She moaned in his ear, her cries growing louder as she felt the coil within her tightening. “I want you,” she said between breaths. Erik used his weight and position to bring her to climax again as he thrust harder, groaning into her long hair. His tempo slowed as he spilled his seed into her, and with one last thrust he gripped her tight and murmured her name. “This goddess,” he said at last, his lips lingering against hers. “What power did she give women?” Storm smiled against his kiss. “The ability to enslave men.” ***** Samantha was long gone by the time Storm finally left Erik’s office and sat down in the waiting room. She moved magazines aside and placed the box on a pine coffee table where she sawed through layers of tape and customs declarations. In the midst of tissue paper was a silver bracelet with a white stone in the shape of a crescent moon. There were markings on the inside, but Storm had no knowledge of ancient languages. Attached to the jewelry was a note on a string that said “Fertility bracelet. I think.” She smiled as she fixed the clasp and turned her wrist, thinking to herself that Loring should stick to snakes instead of shamans.

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Chapter Five From the rise overlooking the gully Holdar surveyed the outskirts of Sleipnir Ranch. For days he had roamed on the outskirts of the property, feeling the strength of his halfbrother’s family pulsing in the soil, tainting the taste of the water, corrupting the breeze. “Sleipnir,” he hissed, his pale blue eyes scanning the landscape. “Do you know how the horse Sleipnir came about?” The werebeast nodded, grunting as it paced along the fence line. Its hair was growing thicker, dark eyes turning yellow like the harvest moon. “The union between the god Loki, who disguised himself as a mare, and a mason’s horse, Svalilfari, produced Odin’s charger. You see, my friend, the gods are masters of deception and fathering bastards…and so are their enemies.” “Myths do not concern me, Holdar,” the werebeast growled, patience waning. “Blast was a giant,” Holdar continued, “… who offered to rebuild the walls of Asgard if he was given the sun and moon and a beautiful goddess.” The beast twisted, contorting to lick the wound on its torso, the injury it had suffered the previous night when the red-blonde man had struck. Empty-handed and limping, Holdar’s servant had returned and explained the crack of thunder echoing through the dry night and the man bearing a sword and axe that had joined Erik Eriksson. “No more stories,” the werebeast panted. “I want the woman. I want the land that should be mine.” Holdar looked to the western sky where the moon was visible in the dusty pink of evening. He smiled, rubbing his thick hands together. When it turned from waxing gibbous to full, he and Alaric would seek their revenge. “You went for the woman and you came back empty-handed.” The werebeast roared in protest. “Where were you when the old man attacked?” “Enough,” Holdar said through his teeth. “Another word and I will withhold your serum.” He held up a small metal flask and removed the wax stopper, allowing the beast to sniff the contents. The promise of further strength caused the werebeast’s golden eyes to roll back in pleasure. A smile eased onto Holdar’s lips. “Soon it will come to pass. Very soon, my loyal servant, I shall have the sun and moon. And for you, the beautiful goddess…a river goddess.”

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***** Storm was reading by the fire when Erik came home for the night. She heard him slam the door and stomp into the great room, where he stood with hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “Where’s my dinner, woman?” he bellowed. Without looking up from her book, Storm smirked and gave him the finger. “Honor and obey,” Erik said as he plopped down at the end of the couch and brought her bare feet into his lap. “You offering?” she asked, glancing up before she turned the page. “Nay, woman,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her, his hand caressing her knee. “I’ve given you my balls already.” Storm tossed her head back and laughed. “As long as you realize it,” she grinned, placing her book on the end table. She snuggled in closer, inhaling his masculine scent. “How was the meeting?” Erik pulled the hairclip from Storm’s long, dark hair and raked his hand through her wavy locks. “Let’s just say I would much rather have spent lunch with you.” Storm kissed his lips, instantly feeling his massive arms wrap around her. He pulled her onto his lap and deepened the kiss, his hands slipping beneath her shirt. She smiled against his lips as his thumbs slid up and down her sides. “Supper first,” she said as she broke away, reclining against him. With her head in Erik’s lap, Storm closed her eyes and relaxed to his gentle touch. There was nothing more calming than feeling him stroke her hair. For such an imposing man—and the descendant of a god at that—he could be the most gentle, soothing creature. “Dinner is in the oven,” Storm sighed, feeling his hand travel down her neck to her shoulder. “Ah, my good little wife,” he said as his hand brushed over her breast and settled on her abdomen. “I made Slatur.” “Don’t tease me, girl,” he rumbled. Storm sat up and ran her finger along his lips. “You couldn’t pay me enough to eat sheep’s blood rolled in lard and cooked in the sheep’s stomach.” “It’ll put hair on your chest,” Erik said. He rose to see what she had made for dinner. “Every girl’s dream,” Storm replied as she padded after him and took salad from the refrigerator. “What happened to Brooke?” Erik asked, skipping the salad to start in on the barbequed chicken. “Rush at the birthing center.” Even with her back turned to him Storm knew his expression. She could feel the regret of his stare. “We made plans for next week,” she said, forcing a smile as she turned and joined him at the table. “Good.” “She told me on the phone that she can take two weeks off work. We’re thinking about going down to the Amazon and—”

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Erik dropped his fork on his plate and pushed back from the table. He stood in the doorway with his back to her and exhaled. “You know how I feel about you leaving. It has nothing to do with control or asserting myself as man of the house. It’s not safe for you to go away, Storm. I don’t want you hundreds of miles away where you could be abducted, raped, killed. Why can’t you see that?” “Because the dreams started when I moved here, that—that thing showed up on the ranch, not in the Amazon.” “Is everything you want down there?” Storm closed her eyes. “It’s not about us.” “Then what is it?” She hated herself for not having an answer. With a sigh she shook her head. Erik turned and wrapped his arms around her. He moved her hair away and kissed her shoulder tenderly, his hot breaths falling on her skin. “The first time I saw you I fell in love with you, Storm.” She sighed, comforted by his warmth, by his masculine scent. “Your eyes matched my amulet and your name reminded me of my youth by the sea. You were not some wayward maiden waiting to be conquered. If you had been I would have taken what I wanted and left you. Regardless of how strong and independent you are, you don’t know what that was.” “Do you?” she murmured. Erik turned her around to face him and cupped her face in his large hands. “My father has a half-brother named Holdar.” He hesitated and Storm clasped his wrists, her eyes drawn to the amulet. “Tell me.” “From what I remember, Holdar had twin sons with Hel: Alaric and Emeric.” Storm’s eyes narrowed. Ever since they were engaged she had been studying Norse Mythology—or Erik’s family tree, as they thought of it. “Hel? As in Loki’s daughter?” Erik nodded. “Then they’re…?” “Demons, but one was slain.” Storm’s face went bone white. “So that thing was a demon?” Erik shook his head. “I don’t know yet, which is why I want you to stay here. My father believes that Holdar is involved, but to what extent I don’t know yet.” Storm looked away, her mind reeling. Erik ran his finger along the shell of her ear. “You can wrestle a snake, but you’re not going to ward off a demon on your own. I need you to stay here until I kill it.” Her mouth dropped open, fear traveling through her like a lightning bolt. “Kill it? How?” He placed her hand against his amulet and kissed her forehead. “Trust me.”

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Chapter Six “What do I need to do?” Storm asked. She climbed into bed and sat Indian-style on the quilt as she twisted her hair into a lopsided ponytail. Erik closed and locked the bedroom windows before he turned to face her. “First, give me your wedding ring.” “What? Why?” “I haven’t been able to dreamwalk with you since our honeymoon.” Storm wiggled the gold band from her finger and handed it to Erik. “Are you comfortable?” She shrugged. “I guess.” Erik stood at the end of the bed and shrugged his shoulders several times before he twisted his torso. “I just want you to close your eyes and relax as much as possible, but don’t fall asleep.” “So…like meditation?” she asked as she lay down and moved a pillow under her knees. “Yes, exactly.” Storm took a deep breath and released it. She rested her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes as Erik sat on the bed beside her. “What are you going to do?” she murmured. Erik ran his hand over the top of her head. “Do you remember how I could guide you through dreams before we were married?” “Of course I do. You showed me the seas, the woods, your home…” He had taken her to cliffs overlooking the sea. She had tasted the salty spray on her lips, the damp, cold wind raking through her hair. Around campfires they had listened to music, and as the dawn rose over the hills he had taken her to his bed and made love to her. She had cried the first time she woke beside him and knew that all he had shown her was true. He gave her much more than sexual intimacy. When they were together she felt him sharing his soul with her, and she willingly gave him the same in return. Erik squeezed her hand. “I want you to guide me into your dreams this time.” Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “How do I do that?” “When I would come to you I would visualize you in my mind, or think of something we had done together until I found you. If you picture me I may be able to follow you.” “And then you think the werewolf will come again?” she asked, her voice quivering. “Then I hope to see who or what hunts you.”

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Storm’s eyes opened, trepidation evident in her turquoise gaze. “I don’t think I can do this.” “You won’t be asleep,” he assured her. “If it comes too close and you become afraid, open your eyes.” “What if I think it’s you?” Erik cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand. I’ll be with you.” “Yes…but when I dream and it’s there I sometimes think it’s you…before I see its face.” He kissed her fingers and settled down beside her, their hands entwined. “Only I wear this amulet, Storm. No other will lay a hand on you.” Storm shut her eyes again and focused on her breathing. She filled her thoughts with Erik’s image, starting with his clear blue-green eyes. When he was frustrated they appeared blue, turbulent as the seas. But when he was amorous they were a dark, mossy green, surrounded by long eyelashes. She had fallen in love with his easy smile and piercing gaze. When he had looked at her she felt as though he had known her inside and out. But being a stubborn Irish girl, she had ignored his interest. She had told herself that if he had wanted her that night and still the following day, then she would give him a chance. While he had sat around a blazing fire, talking and drinking and laughing—he was always laughing—she had studied his broad hands and long fingers. He had occasionally glanced in her direction and grinned, playfully inviting her to venture closer. She had pretended not to notice and ended up spending most of the evening talking with her girlfriends. The following day, when everyone was nursing hangovers on the ranch, Erik had invited her to sit on the porch where he handed her a cup of coffee and sat in silence, watching the fog waft through the pines and oaks. Though he wouldn’t admit to it, Storm knew he was doing to her what she had done to him and it drove her crazy. He had waited until she was ready to get up and return inside when he turned to her, lifted her chin and kissed her in the most hungry, passionate kiss she had ever experienced. “Don’t ever make me wait again,” he had said before he turned and walked into his house, leaving her stunned on the porch. Storm smiled to herself at the memory, and just as she did Erik emerged from the darkness and stood beside her in her thoughts. “Don’t speak aloud,” he warned. Storm pursed her lips and nodded, unsure of how to speak to him in her mind. “This is so weird.” She paused. “Hey, that was what I was thinking.” “I know,” Erik chuckled. “And I can hear you.” After several moments she grew accustomed to what she was doing and turned to face Erik. “What do I do now?” “What do you want to see around you?” At first she saw their fireplace, but when she changed her mind it disappeared and was swiftly replaced by a river, then her old bedroom in her parents’ house. “Slow down,” Erik said, wrapping his arm around her. “Where are you normally?” “It changes.” “Where were you the last time?”

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Their bedroom formed, parts of it missing where she couldn’t remember what was on Erik’s dresser or if her closet door was partially opened or not. The clearest pieces of furniture were the bed and quilt rack, and every perfume bottle and effigy on her dresser appeared more vivid in color than the rest of the room. Storm turned toward Erik and frowned. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.” His eyes appeared more blue than green, but his face was soft when he looked at her. Cupping her face, he kissed her forehead. “Now I understand why you didn’t want to say anything. Has he…” She shook her head, still ashamed to tell him. “This is not your doing.” She frowned, her eyes lowering. “He’s touched me, but he hasn’t made love to me. When I see his face I wake and then…” “You’re shaking,” Erik whispered. “He’s not going to do anything to you. I’m here with you.” Storm tilted her chin upwards to kiss him back, her hands linking behind his neck, wanting to feel him closer to her, to know that she was protected. She parted her lips and deepened her kiss, finding that her insides tingled as she felt her body still lying in bed while her mind wandered deeper into the vision. Erik pressed her body to his, his hand running the length of her spine. She reached up and caressed the amulet, reassuring herself that she was with her husband before she rubbed her belly against his body, feeling his arousal through his clothes. When she reached for him he pulled her hand away. “I can’t concentrate.” Storm nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment that quickly vanished when he kissed her fingertips. “My attention is only on you,” he murmured as his hands smoothed along her sides and belly. Storm could barely breathe as he sat her at the end of the bed and knelt before her. She watched him, mesmerized by knowing that this powerful, masculine being was hers for the rest of her life. Erik pulled her shirt over her head and caressed her shoulders and chest, kissing her where her bra strap fell. He kneaded her breasts, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks as his mouth trailed wet, fiery kisses along her throat. She inhaled sharply through her mouth as her bra fell away and he captured her nipple between his lips, his tongue flicking against her sensitive flesh. With her hands tangled in his hair she felt herself growing closer and closer to the edge, wanting him to explore her further. He trailed kisses in a lazy path down her ribs and thighs, whispering how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her. “The moment I saw you by the fire I knew I’d make love to you for the rest of my life,” he said, wiggling her out of her jeans. Storm spread her legs wider, gasping for breath as he pulled her white panties aside and ran his finger along her damp cleft, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. He kissed her intimately with his smooth, warm lips, driving her mad with a need for release. She had never before felt herself build so swiftly to climax. She wanted to beg him to touch her.

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Erik glanced up into her eyes as he kissed below her belly button, his fingers caressing her parted thighs. He showed her the amulet still hanging around his neck before his tongue delved agonizingly slow into her, swirling around her waiting pink mound. Storm threw her head back and gripped the sheets, the coil building so tightly that she could barely breathe. His tongue lapped her, flicking past his lips in precise moves that made her legs shake. As she edged ever nearer he paused, taking the little mound into his mouth and sucking gently, making her moan and writhe. “I need to come,” she panted between breaths. “You will,” he promised, blowing cool air on her swollen flesh. He knew she was close to climax, and he continued to lave her with his tongue, feeling her buttocks lift off the bed as she controlled his position. Obediently he pleasured her faster, his tongue swirling around her clit and stroking it back and forth. She clutched his head, her back curling as she let out a little scream. Erik inserted his middle finger into her, finding that she was so wet that the sheets were damp beneath her. He felt her body grip him as he brought her to a release so strong that she fell back on the bed limp and trembling. Erik caressed her belly, kissing the insides of her thighs as she smiled in pure ecstasy. “I want to touch you,” she whispered, grasping his hand. Without a word, Erik covered her with a blanket and rose to his feet. “Erik?” she questioned, lifting her head. “Don’t scream,” Erik said calmly. A shadow appeared through the bedroom window. Storm’s lips parted, but she felt Erik’s hand grip hers, reminding her that he was still beside her and that this was only a vision. In her mind she saw Erik stand with his back against the wall so that the shadow didn’t see him. He brought his finger to his lips, reminding her to stay quiet. With a nod, Storm braced herself. The bedroom window creaked open and Storm’s eyes flitted around the room, fear consuming her. The wolf’s head appeared through the window, yellow eyes trained on her face. She felt herself shudder but managed not to scream as the beast sniffed the air. “Mine,” he growled, claws gripping the windowsill. Before the beast entered through the window it paused, its canine face contorting. With a roar of displeasure it started to turn, but Erik grabbed it by the throat and dragged the halfman, half-beast closer. “What do you want with my wife?” Storm gasped, so frightened that she couldn’t utter a sound. The beast stared past Erik, its eyes passing from her to her dresser before it swiped and missed slicing through Erik’s arm. Releasing the creature, Erik slammed the window shut and locked it. Storm’s eyes popped open as she sat up in bed, her heart racing. Erik held her close, running his hand along her back. “You did well.” She swore under her breath and curled up closer to him. “Now what?” she asked once she caught her breath. Erik shook his head. He handed Storm her wedding ring back. “Now I wait for my father to return.”

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Chapter Seven Storm sat on the porch swing in the middle of the afternoon, her legs dangling over the armrest. A week had passed since the attack in the backyard and the dreamwalking that had lured the beast. Since then her sleep had been peaceful and the headaches had gone away, which gave her hope that it wouldn’t return. Still, she knew it was false hope. Even without the nightmares, Storm agreed to stay in the country. She knew Erik was correct; she would never be able to fend it off alone. Staying in Texas, however, meant more paperwork, which she was trying to wade through as she enjoyed the tepid afternoon. Though he didn’t pressure her, Loring expressed his disappointment in his emails and said he hoped he would see her soon. Something about his correspondence had changed over the weeks, and the friendly reminders that he missed her and hoped she was doing well had stopped. Loring explained that she was needed on the project and that it was in her best interest to give him a definitive date of when—if ever—she planned to return. Storm yawned and rested her eyes for a moment. Erik, Steve and Drake had been awake three nights in a row with foaling mares and she had stayed up waiting for Erik, sometimes joining them in the stable to watch the new colt or filly take its first shaky steps. “There you are,” Erik said as he walked out the front door. He was still wearing his pajama bottoms, his chest bare. The claw marks had nearly healed, leaving behind only pink lines on his well-muscled torso. “I turned over and you were gone.” “It was too pretty to spend the day indoors,” she said, holding out a strawberry. “Drake bought these yesterday at a farm stand. Want one?” “No, I’m fine. Everything okay?” Storm exhaled. “More paperwork. Loring really wants me to go back, but I told him I’m not ready. He just seems more persistent than he has in the past.” She sighed and shook her head. “I should talk to Drake and see what’s going on. Maybe Loring is just tired of being down there, y’know? He’s been there for, what? Fifteen years now, I think.” Erik nodded. “Take a break.” “Have you seen your father yet?” “Not yet.” “Can you…call him or something?”

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Erik shook his head as he walked to the edge of the porch stairs and surveyed the shaded front yard. Through the trees, sunlight glinted off the river that passed through their ranch property. “I don’t know how to get hold of him,” Erik said over his shoulder. “He just…” “Appeared,” Storm finished for him. She climbed to her feet and wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing his back. “Did Diana ever know?” It took Erik a while to answer. When Storm had first met Erik she had no idea that his wife had recently died, or that his deceased wife was Diana Marsden. Anyone living outside of San Antonio had heard of the Marsden family, who was quite prominent in horseracing. They owned stables in Kentucky, Illinois and San Antonio, where their only daughter saw to the business side of their equine interests. Through their family Erik had bred two stud horses, one black and one steel gray. After six months of courtship and dozens of fast racers Erik had married Diana and started his own ranch, Sleipnir. “Yes, she did,” Erik said, his voice hinting at his sorrow. He placed his arm around Storm and looked down at her face. “Why do you ask about her?” “Did your father ever meet her?” Erik shook his head. “He knows I was previously married, but nothing more.” Storm nodded and decided not to continue the conversation. He had moved on and they were happy together, but she knew that he still thought of Diana and the son she carried at the time her truck had rolled off the road and into a ditch. “Your father is a very handsome man.” Erik furrowed his brow. “Talk like that and I’ll tell him never to return.” Storm narrowed her eyes. “I’ll only run away with him if he lets me clean his clothes, fix his dinner and bear his children.” “You might have to fight my mother, and believe me, girl, you don’t want to mess with her. She’ll whip you just like she whipped my brothers and me.” Storm sighed as Erik wrapped his arms around her and kissed the nape of her neck. “I was thinking about riding later on,” she said. “With all the rain we had earlier I bet the gully looks beautiful.” “I’ll go with you,” Erik replied. Brushing her hair from her face, Erik tilted her chin up and kissed her gently. Her lips were sticky and sweet from munching while she highlighted and made notes, and the unexpected taste made Erik smile. “No cream for your strawberries?” He grabbed the bowl of strawberries while she gathered her paperwork and left it on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t look,” Storm frowned as she followed Erik inside. Before she finished speaking he lifted her from the floor and slung her over his shoulder. “Are you out of your mind?” “By the Aesir in Asgard, woman, what did you think a kiss like that would do to me?” She playfully pounded on his back as he took her upstairs and dropped her on their bed, showing her the can of whipped cream.

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“You’ve been on those Websites again,” she teased as she crawled toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, wrestling him to the bed. “I’m a man,” he said. “In my youth it was honey.” Storm shook the can before she lifted his shirt and made a trail of whipped cream from his chest to his belly. The moment her lips touched his warm flesh he went silent, stretching out as she laved him. Tossing the can aside, Storm watched him quiver as the ends of her hair tickled his sides and stomach. She traced her finger along a thin, curving scar that disappeared along his hip where his brother’s rough play with a tree branch-cum-sword had once cut him. Her hand reached into his pajama pants and took hold of his erection, stroking him as she kissed his hip. She saw him from the corner of her eye as he lifted his head so that he could watch her pleasure him. His dick twitched in response as her hand slid up and down his length. She kissed the throbbing head of his member, making him suck in a breath as he steadied himself, preventing a swift and disappointing climax. “I don’t think I need honey or whipped cream,” Storm purred, purposely exhaling against his erection. She kissed him up and down, her tongue flicking out to taste him. Before Erik, she had only been with men who were cut. It had taken her a few times to grow accustomed to the look of his penis, but once they made love there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him inside of her. “Woman,” Erik murmured. With a smile, she took him into her mouth, engulfing him with hot, wet pleasure that made him moan low in his throat. His hips rose, bringing him deeper while his hand tangled in her hair, gently navigating her as she took him fully. She cupped his testicles in her free hand and caressed his inner thighs until she thought he would scream. Her own soft moans of pleasure made him rock-hard, and Storm knew she was driving him mad. Nothing made her feel more powerful than running her lips up and down his shaft. She left him helpless, this bear of a man who owned three hundred acres couldn’t utter a word as her tongue flicked the underside of his length. She loved the way he tasted, the way the head of his cock felt against her tongue, the way their heat melded. “I want to fill you,” Erik strained to speak as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Not yet.” “I need to,” he rumbled. Erik grabbed Storm by the shoulders and pulled her up his body. With one fierce kiss he entered her, supporting her weight as he guided her onto his erection. He wet his fingers and stroked her clit, which was encouraged and slick from her own arousal. Sitting on his hips, Storm slowed his pace, bringing his hard thrusts to a slow, steady rhythm. “Lie back,” she whispered. “Take off your shirt,” he said as he lifted her t-shirt and caressed her ribs. “I want to see all of you.”

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Storm sat hard on his erection, burying him completely as she tossed her shirt aside. He touched her through her bra as she rocked on his hips, pushing his hand away from her clit so that she could enjoy the feel of him filling her a while longer. When Erik couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he brought her body down against his chest and encouraged their easy tempo until she was gasping for breath as she rode him, her full breasts supported by his hands, nipples teased into hardened points. She brought him to climax as her walls contracted around his cock, welcoming his hot seed. Together they both rested, their bodies entwined and damp with sweat, hearts still beating wildly in mutual passion. “Honestly, woman,” he murmured in her ear. “When I’m with you the rest of the world disappears.”

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Chapter Eight A battered white wooden cross leaned on the side of the road. Though it had been three years, evidence of the crash still lingered where teddy bears and ribbons from flowers left behind for the mother and her unborn son. Further down, where the decline was steep and rocky, Holdar ran his booted foot over the green paint marks. The pick up truck had smashed the boulder, which was being hidden by grass and earth with each passing year. In the moonlight Holdar could still picture the scene. “Do you know how many times it turned over?” Holdar asked with a cynical smile. He didn’t wait for the werebeast to answer. “Three times, once as it careened off the road and twice until it rested at the bottom of the ditch.” The beast grunted, pacing the white fence. His lupine eyes could make out the iron entrance gate much better than Holdar’s, and the creature’s superior nose picked up the scent of food in the breeze. “The old man by the big river is no longer a concern. Now it is up to you to fulfill your duties and claim your prize.” “Of course, master.” “Erik Eriksson has a tendency to select sturdy women,” Holdar said as he cracked his knuckles and scaled to the top of the ditch with the beast following closely behind. “You know his first wife didn’t die upon impact. She was breathing still when I peered through the broken glass. ‘Help me,’ she begged, and do you know what I did?” The werebeast looked uninterested. “I pinched her nose and closed her mouth. When they found her they thought she drowned in her own blood.” “I want this woman alive,” the werebeast growled. “It is my time to have something of my own.” Without warning Holdar whipped around and grabbed the beast by the neck, forcing the creature to the ground. “Listen to me, you ignorant bastard,” Holdar seethed. “It is because of me—because of my ties that you have been given your gift. Now you will do exactly as I say, do you understand?” “We had a deal,” the beast snarled, swiping Holdar’s hand away. “Everyone leaves satisfied.”

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“Then kill Erik and claim his wife as your own.” The werebeast growled, nodding once. “You have my word.” Holdar stood and clenched his fists. “If she is in my path when the time comes, our deal is off.” The beast’s yellow eyes narrowed, his bared teeth glistening in the night. “My pack stays alive, or I’ll kill you.” Holdar laughed to himself. “You forget who you are dealing with, my friend. Prepare for the full moon.”

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Chapter Nine It was raining when Erik and Steve walked out of the stable. “If this last one don’t foal durin’ the day, Double E, I swear you’re gonna owe me a whole barrel a’ mead,” Steve yawned as he followed Erik out of the stable. “At least it’s only one o’clock in the morning. It could be worse.” Erik glanced back and grinned. His eyes felt more and more like gravel after another long night, but the mare named Ran gave birth to a sturdy little filly. Given the rain, Erik thought it was quite fitting that a horse named for the Goddess of Storms birthed on a lightning-filled night. Steve took off his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “Can’t get much worse, you mean.” “You’re not getting old on me, are you Steve?” “Hell no. I was old when I started.” He paused and glanced back. “Where the hell is Harwell?” Erik rubbed his eyes. “He was grabbing a cup of coffee.” “Coffee? What in the Sam Hill is wrong with him?” Erik made no comment. “Where’s your wife at?” Erik’s legs stiffened. “Waiting for me,” he snarled. Steve paused, removing his chewing tobacco from his back pocket before jogging to catch up to Erik. “Harwell looked like shit tonight, didn’t he?” Erik shrugged. “He’s been favoring his right side since he got snagged on that fence.” Steve’s face straightened. “You sure it was a fence?” “What else would it be?” Steve shrugged. “Don’t know. Just sayin’ it was a weird night to begin with. Ain’t no tellin’ what he was doin’ out there. He’s been actin’ awful funny for a couple weeks now.” “How so?” “Been spendin’ more time talkin’ to Storm about Mexico or somethin’, and as far as I know you ain’t payin’ him to entertain your wife.” Erik’s nostrils flared, rain pelting his hair and shoulders. Steve squinted. “Where’s his father again?” “The Amazon,” Erik said between his teeth. “Yeah, there. Every time I see them talkin’ he’s tryin’ to get her back there. If I were you I’d keep a look out for Drake. Somethin’ ain’t right.”

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Erik felt his shoulders bunch. “Just lookin’ out for you, Double E.” With his back to Steve, Erik nodded. “Good night, Canny.” ***** Storm was curled up on the couch when Drake first walked in and started making coffee. “You’ve got to be crazy,” she said. “What?” Drake asked over his shoulder, flashing an easy smile. “Coffee? Now?” “It’s like sex and pizza--take it when you can get it.” Storm chuckled to herself. “Nice philosophy.” “You look like you’re feeling better,” Drake commented. “Yeah,” she grinned. “Much better. Thanks.” “Good. I worry about you sometimes.” He cleared his throat and shook the half-empty coffee can. “Have you heard from my father?” Ever since she had started working for Loring Harwell, Storm had sensed that Drake had developed a bit of a crush on her, but she knew he wouldn’t act on it, especially now. “Your dad e-mails me just about daily. You?” Drake removed the coffeepot and jiggled it before replacing it again. He stepped back and Storm contained her laughter. She found it funny that he was in his thirties and could hardly work anything more than a television remote. “His cell phone has been off the last three times I tried calling him. He must be in the river every time.” “Do you want me to e-mail him for you? I know how you hate computers.” “If you remember,” Drake shrugged and poked the coffeepot control buttons for a while until he stood back, defeated by technology. “Need help?” Storm smirked. “You just love this, don’t you?” Padding across the floor, Storm noticed how much Drake was favoring his right leg. “Have you had the doctor look at that?” “If you mean the vet, then yes. I asked him what I should do about it last night. He suggested that I have someone put me out of my misery.” She cocked her head to the side and started the coffeemaker. “I’m being serious, Drake. You should have that looked at.” “It’s fine.” “Who knows what’s on those fences. Come on. At least let me put something on it.” Drake stared at the ceiling and gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine, but I know you just want me naked.” Storm raised an eyebrow. “You are so full of crap.” Her humor ended the moment she saw the wound low on his side. She swore under her breath and placed the back of her fingers against the jagged, swollen abrasion. “It’s fevered.” “Say what?” “It’s infected. Drake, you have to see someone about this.”

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He responded with a grunt of protest. “Drake—” The office door opened and Erik stepped in from the rain, his blue eyes flashing from Storm to Drake. “Do you still work here?” Erik snapped. “Because last I checked I didn’t pay you to stand around all damned day and tell my wife stories.” “I’m not—” “You don’t speak when I’m speaking. Is that understood?” Drake took a step away from Storm, his arms straight at his side. “Yes, sir,” he stammered. “Then work or get off my land. There shall be no other warning, Harwell. Remember your place.” Erik’s eyes flashed to Storm. “Are you finished?” Storm felt her cheeks burning. She glared at Erik for causing a scene and crossed her arms. “He’s injured, Erik, give him a break.” “I’m fine,” Drake said as he removed his hat and stared at the inside. “You know what? You can give my father a message for me. Tell him I put in my two weeks notice. I don’t need this shit.”

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Chapter Ten Storm tore off her silver bracelet and tossed it into her jewelry box. She slammed the lid shut, causing one of the effigies to roll onto its side. The figurine cracked down the front, but with a sharp exhale she left it and turned to find Erik standing in the bedroom doorway. “This is my ranch. If people don’t pull their own weight they don’t work for me.” “He’s injured. You didn’t need to get on his case.” Erik crossed his arms. “You want me to apologize for that?” Exhaling in disgust, Storm stalked into the bathroom to wash her face. “Have you seen what happened to Drake’s back?” “No, and he better not be asking you to look,” Erik answered, following close behind. “We were talking about his father. Drake hasn’t heard from Loring in a while and I offered to e-mail him.” “While you’re playing nursemaid.” “You think I’m going to run away with him?” Storm asked. She grabbed a washrag and put it under running water, scrubbing her face in silence. “I don’t know what will happen,” Erik bit back. “What if I were concerned about Steve’s skin cancer coming back? Then what would you say?” “I’d tell you the same thing.” Storm scoffed. “Sometimes I think Thor hit you in the head with his hammer,” she scolded under her breath. Erik grabbed Storm by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Where was Drake the night the werebeast attempted to drag you away?” he snarled. “Not with me, if that’s what you’re implying.” “Storm, I’m in no mood to argue with you.” “As far as I’m concerned you started it the moment you walked into the office and decided you had to be some macho man asserting himself. Remember what century you’re in. I’m your wife, but I’m not your property, and besides that I’ve known Drake a long time.” “And it seems to me that he’d like to know you better.” “I thought you knew me better,” Storm snapped. His gaze bore through her, but Erik finally released her arms and stepped back, allowing his anger to subside.

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Storm exhaled and turned away, returning to their bedroom. Several moments later Erik followed and sat on the bed as she attempted to repair the little broken trinket Loring had sent from Venezuela. She heard his hard breaths and knew he was frustrated, but she also knew that he was intelligent enough to realize that an argument would get them nowhere. “My feelings for Drake extend only so far as friendship. I find it insulting when you think I would have an affair,” she said, keeping her voice low. Storm didn’t hear Erik move from his position on the bed, but when she felt his hands grip her shoulders she closed her eyes, finding solace in his firm grasp. He pressed his lips to the back of her head and whispered his apologies. “I’m concerned about your safety, Storm. No one saw Drake that night I left the stable. Then hours later you’re attacked and who shows up?” He paused, and Storm turned to face him. “It doesn’t bode well with me when there is one person missing and an attack takes place.” “You think he’s this…thing?” Erik’s shoulders dropped. “Not necessarily, but I think Drake may be involved. His disappearance, the wound from the fence…” Storm tightened her grasp on the effigy and felt one of the sharp pieces stab her palm. She inhaled through her teeth and set it back on her dresser amid the broken shards of clay. “Damn it,” she said, attempting to brush as much rubble off of her hands as possible. Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she brought her hand to her face and saw a crimson pinprick in the center of her palm. “Maybe now that I’ve given it my blood it will work.” Erik picked up one of the larger pieces and turned it over in his hands. “Loring sent these to you for fertility?” Storm blotted her hand with a tissue. “Yes, right after we were married. I need to wash this off before it gets infected.” “He knows how to write in runes?” “I have no idea. Why?” Erik showed her the bottom of the broken effigy. “Here. It says my name on the inside.” “He must have looked it up,” Storm shouted from the bathroom. She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Your name is on the inside?” Just as she turned on the faucet she heard another effigy break. Then another. Then another. “Erik!” she screamed, bolting into the bedroom. Erik caught her around the waist and dragged her into the hall. “They must be destroyed,” he said. “What? Why?” “They bear the names of my father, mother and brothers, your name and Diana’s in the language of my people.” He held up a fire-singed scrap of paper to show her. “This is neither coincidence nor studying.” Storm felt her breath hitch in her throat. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t utter a sound. “I broke the one with Diana’s name on it and found a dried mouse fetus. Inside yours there were two. Inside my father’s was an ancient curse…in my mother’s…ash.”

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Storm stumbled backwards, but Erik caught her and showed her the linen paper and dark red letters. “The wolves at their heels. Let them know terror. Hel’s realm awaits them.” “I don’t understand. Why would Drake do this?” Erik supported her against his chest. “Come with me. Wherever Drake went, I’m certain Holdar isn’t far behind.”

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Chapter Eleven The werebeast watched through the bedroom window as Drake Harwell stuffed his clothes into a tattered duffle bag. The evening rain turned to mist and the dark clouds diminished to streaks across an indigo sky. “Do you feel it?” Holdar asked as he sidled up beside his servant, his hand held over his eyes to block the rain. “Do you feel your growing power?” The beast bared its teeth. “Growing, but incomplete.” Holdar nodded, his lips forming a thin smile. “All in good time.” The creature turned its head from side to side. “What of him? Shall I kill him?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Holdar shook his head. “Conserve your energy. Erik, son of Aerik Thorsson, and his wife are my only concern. Allow this one to crawl to the river in the south and find his father’s remains.” The werebeast growled, its clawed hands flexing. “As you wish.” Holdar glanced up, his gaze trained on the full moon. “The thunder has passed. Rest, my loyal servant, the hour is almost upon us.” ***** Drake punched in the numbers to his father’s cell phone and let out a growl of protest. It wasn’t like Loring to go for more than two days without checking his messages, and now that well over a week had passed Drake was nervous. The only comfort he had was Storm telling him that she was still in contact with Loring through e-mail. At least someone had heard from him. With his duffle bag almost full, Drake tossed his cell phone onto his bed and bent down to open the bottom dresser drawer. Fiery pain immediately shot through his injured right side from his hip to his ribs. Stifling a curse, he rose to his full height and exhaled slowly, waiting for the pain to subside. Drake forgot his injury the moment his cell phone rang. “Drake Harwell.” “Hello, my name is Professor Marissa Largos from the America’s Biology Institution. Are you Dr. Loring Harwell’s relative?” a woman with a thick accent asked. “Yes, I’m his son,” Drake answered as he straddled a wooden chair. “I’ve been trying to reach him on his cell phone for a week and it hasn’t been on.”

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There was a long pause—a long, dreadful silence that told Drake everything he needed to know. “Mr. Harwell, I apologize for calling in the middle of the night, but I finally found your correct number. There’s been a terrible accident. I’m so sorry.” Drake switched the phone from one ear to the other. “Go on.” “Your father and three other researchers disappeared a week ago. We’ve been attempting to contact you, but it seems your address said you were still located in Caracas.” The woman paused again. “Mr. Harwell, is there any possible way you could be in Caracas by tomorrow?” “I’m packing now. I could be there by morning. Where is he? May I speak to him?” Professor Largos released a groan. “Drake, right? I hate to say this over the phone, but I need you here to identify his body.” “Wh-what?” “I’m very sorry. Your father was one of my mentors.” “What happened?” he asked, feeling his sense of time and place slowly ebb. The words weren’t registering in his mind. “The researchers were killed two miles from the Amazon. Looks like it was possibly the work of a jaguar, but we’re not sure just yet. A village boy found them in the jungle almost a week ago. Their GPS navigators were destroyed, but their research equipment was left untouched.” “But that’s impossible. He just emailed one of his colleagues the other day.” He gripped the back of the chair, his throat tightening and his knuckles briefly pressing his lips. “I’m not sure what to tell you, Drake. Is there anything I can do for you? A call I can make or hotel arrangements?” Drake wiped his hand over his face. “No. I’ll be there.” “Let me give you my number. When you arrive at the airport, I’ll pick you up and take you to him.” Drake scribbled the number, shut off his phone and sat, numb and perplexed. From what Storm said she had heard from Loring just the other day—possibly that very morning. Drake knew his father well enough to be certain that his father didn’t know how to save an email and send it later. Either Loring Harwell was keeping in touch with Storm, or someone was doing it for him. Drake allowed himself one sob before he rose to his feet and grabbed his duffle bag. His grief faded as rage for his father’s death coursed through his body. Before he could leave for Venezuela he needed to tell Storm about Loring, whether Erik Eriksson liked it or not.

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Chapter Twelve “Where are we going?” Storm asked as she attempted to keep up with her long-legged husband. Erik led her down the stairs and unlocked a pine chest behind the couch. “We need to find Steve and Sam and warn them,” Erik finally answered. “Sam’s with her dad this weekend,” Storm reminded him. She stood on her tiptoes to see what he was doing, though she knew that aside from a quilt the only thing in the trunk was a ten-gauge shotgun. “There are two pistols in my desk drawer,” Erik said as he tossed her his keys. “So…what do you want me to do? Because I’m not going to shoot Drake if he comes to the front door.” “No, I’m not telling you to shoot on sight. I would rather you stay in the house than wander outside. But regardless, I want you to protect yourself if it comes down to that.” “Why can’t we both go together?” Storm asked. She glanced at Erik’s keys and reluctantly made her way to his desk. Storm knew little about guns. The local guides in Venezuela often carried weapons, though she preferred to buy a canister of pepper spray and keep it clipped onto her belt. Pepper spray, however, couldn’t be used indoors without contaminating the whole house. “Because I think you’re safer in the house with the doors and windows locked.” He fed shells into his shotgun while staring at her from across the room. “I locked the windows a week ago just to be safe.” Her hands were shaking so intensely that Storm could hardly fit the key into the lock. When she opened the drawer she felt her throat go dry. Before she had a chance to touch the pistols, Erik came to assist her. He removed the case from the drawer, handing Storm the shotgun so that he could open the gun case. “Do you remember how to shoot?” “I - I think so.” She bit her lip. Erik hadn’t taken her out target shooting for over a year—since he first discovered that blowing holes in targets was quite entertaining. He took lessons to learn how to shoot and bought guns for them to both practice. As a typical testosterone-driven male, he needed to have the biggest gun possible…that his wife would allow. If Erik had his druthers he would have been carrying a Barrett .50, which shot shells the same height as soda cans.

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Storm still remembered nearly jumping out of her skin the first time she had fired. It was not nearly as easy as the movies made it appear. “Which one is which?” she asked. “I’m sorry.” “It’s all right. This is the .50 Desert Eagle. Never mind the pistols. You keep the shotgun.” He paused to buckle his belt and holster the gun. Storm nodded. She was good with the shotgun because it didn’t require aim, but as nervous as she felt she wasn’t sure she could hit a billboard if it were in front of her. Erik swiftly explained what to do, and as Storm felt the weight of the shotgun in her grasp she felt more confident. If worse came to worst she would do what was necessary. “All you have to do is point and shoot,” he said. “I hope I don’t have to,” she said under her breath. “So do I,” Erik said as he swung away from Storm. He checked the other pistol—a .44 Smith & Wesson—just as someone pounded on the front door. The noise nearly made Storm drop her gun. “Wait in the hall,” Erik instructed, holstering the .44 in preference over the more lethal Desert Eagle. “If anything should happen, shoot. Fire until you have no more ammo. Remember, this,” he said as he pointed to her gun, “is meant to protect you. Let it do its job.” Storm stood with her back against the hallway wall, her heart pounding so fast she thought she would pass out. “I need to speak with Storm,” Drake pleaded as the door opened. “Get off my property,” Erik shouted. Storm jumped, hearing the click as Erik racked the slide, inserting a cartridge into the chamber in preparation to fire. She peeked around the corner and saw him taking aim at Drake’s chest. Armed with a Desert Eagle—and at such close range—Erik would blow a hole in Drake the size of a lemon. “Jesus Christ, put the gun down!” “Wrong religion. Now get off my land.” “I don’t know what the hell you think I’m going to do, but I need to speak to Storm. It’s about my father.” “You have five seconds to tell your story before I blow your head clear off.” “He’s dead,” Drake said. “My father’s been killed in Venezuela.” Storm found herself standing in the middle of the great room with her shotgun at her side. “Oh my God. What happened?” “The woman on the phone said it might have been a jaguar.” “Was he alone?” Drake shook his head. “There were three researchers together. A boy found them.” Storm shook her head. “That’s impossible. A jaguar wouldn’t hunt one man let alone three. They’re solitary animals—and even if it was a mother and her cubs there’s no way they could kill three grown men.” She recalled the Indians telling her that once in a while a Jaguar appeared from the jungle to play with the children, and while she thought that was fairly mythical, in all of her years spent on the Amazon, none of her colleagues had ever had a fatal encounter with a Jaguar.

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“I know,” Drake replied as he stood on the threshold. His gaze switched to Erik, who had lowered his shotgun. Drake stared at the wooden floor. “He’s been dead for at least a week. Their GPS was broken and everything.” “He just emailed me,” Storm said, her voice fading as she joined Erik. Her lips parted. “It wasn’t a jaguar.” Erik released the trigger and lowered his weapon, nodding toward Drake. “Get inside.”

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Chapter Thirteen “My duffle bag is in the truck, but I wanted to tell you what happened before I left. With the fences, that coyote that scared Storm a while back…something isn’t right.” Erik checked the Desert Eagle. “Shut the door,” he instructed. As Drake doubled back to shut and lock the door, Erik walked toward him, turning the pistol in his hand. He waited until Drake faced away before he raised his gun and pistolwhipped him, sending Drake staggering to the ground. Storm screamed the moment Drake’s knees buckled. “What the hell are you doing?” “Seeing what he sees,” Erik replied as he holstered the pistol and grabbed Drake under the arms. “Help me drag him to the couch.” “You could have killed him. What the hell were you thinking?” Erik made no reply. He waited for Storm to grab Drake’s feet and help him haul the ranch hand to the couch. “Is he bleeding?” Storm asked as she backed away from the couch with her hands over her mouth. “He’ll be fine,” Erik mumbled. He took a seat across from the couch and folded his hands. “What are you looking for?” “Sometimes people see much more than they realize. Why don’t you get him some aspirin and a glass of water for when he wakes up?” Storm stared at Erik briefly, knowing that he just wanted her out of the room. With an exasperated sigh she walked into the kitchen, still muttering to herself. Taking a deep breath, Erik closed his eyes and focused his attention on finding Drake Harwell’s energy and dream. He knew it would be difficult, as his adrenaline was running high and his thoughts were still with Storm. After several minutes of listening to the clock on the mantel tick, he settled. The blackness turned to lush green, and crouched down by the broken fence, Erik found Drake making the repair. Drake had his hat tipped back, his dark, wavy hair plastered to his forehead. It was dusk, the wind nonexistent. With two nails stuck between his teeth, he rose to his feet and kicked at the bent fencepost, attempting to right it. Five mares swished their tails and watched him work, enjoying their last moments in the field before Drake led them back for the night.

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“Almost done, ladies,” Drake said over his shoulder, grinning to himself when one of younger mares responded with a snort. Once Drake had the fencepost upright, he removed the ruined fittings and positioned a temporary tension board into place to keep the horses from wandering too far. The biggest fear was that one would fall into the gully and break its leg. While he worked, the mares in the field began whickering while Drake’s gelding, a chestnut named Mimir, nervously walked back and forth. The animal had its reins stretched to the limit and his ears flat to his skull. “Calm down, Mimir,” Drake said before he pounded the two nails into place. Without warning, Mimir bucked, straining the fence and the leather reins. His hooves stirred up dirt from a dry patch in the grass, sending grit into Drake’s eyes. “Whoa!” Drake called, hopping over the newly repaired boards. He reached for Mimir’s neck and the horse kicked. His panic alerted the mares, who galloped toward the stables, all five of them running tightly together. Erik followed Drake’s gaze as he turned toward the gully. Mimir finally broke free, leaving Drake standing on the inside of the fence, only a hammer in his hand and the broken board at his feet. From the verdant landscape rose something dark, crouched on all fours like a wolf with front legs shorter than the hindquarters. It sniffed the grass as it loped along, grunting with its snout buried in the weeds. Erik felt his earthbound body tense and the image faded, flickering before it returned. This was the beast that attempted to enter their bedroom. Though he had grabbed hold of the werebeast, Erik hadn’t been able to get a good look at it. Now that the scraggly creature with its sloped shoulders and wiry, graying hair was before him, Erik felt a murderous rage welling up deep inside his body. “Go on, git,” Drake shouted, attempting to scare the creature. Before the image faded, Erik saw Drake raise the small hammer as the beast jumped the fence and stalked forward. The animal lunged, knocking Drake into the fence where his right side collided with the fence post. The scene grew fuzzy as Drake’s memory faded, but the last thing Erik saw for sure was a man in the distance, with long, tangled graying hair and thin, pallid lips. It nodded, motioning the werebeast forward. “Take her tonight,” the figure bade. “Give her your seed and kill Erik Eriksson. Murder the man who should work for you.” Without a moment’s hesitation the beast was gone, growling as it tore across the field and disappeared from sight. Erik needed to see nothing further. His blood boiled with the revelation of betrayal. ***** Erik’s eyes popped open and he found Storm standing over him. He stood immediately, his hand drawn to his amulet. He clutched the cool metal and whispered, “If there were ever a moment I needed you, Father, it’s now.” “What did you see?” Storm whispered, grasping Erik’s arms. She rested her cheek against his back briefly before he turned and wrapped his arms around her.

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A distant, low rumbling rattled the very foundation of the house. Erik’s embrace grew tighter, more protective as the tempo increased and the floorboards reverberated with the sound of thunder. “Erik?” “Stay right here. If Drake wakes up give him that aspirin.” He kissed Storm on the lips before he released her and stalked toward the front door. The moment he opened the door, his father walked in, his thick hand on his sword’s hilt. “You were correct. I saw Holdar.” Aerik furrowed his brow. “Saw him? Here?” Erik explained the dream and told his father about the effigies and the names inside. A morose expression formed on Aerik’s face as he sighed and nodded at his son’s words. “I fear Holdar has followed you for quite some time, my son,” Aerik said once his son told him about the dead mouse fetuses found inside Diana’s and Storm’s effigies. Erik’s rage threatened to consume him. “He has killed my wife and child…and now he has claimed two more.” Grasping his son’s arm, Aerik shook his head. “Holdar is a mortal who merely believes he is a god. No, the effigies and their contents are meant to prevent the births of two more children, not simply kill the one your first wife bore within her. This, my son, is possibly twins for you and your wife.” Erik’s expression softened at his father’s words. He turned to see Storm sitting on the edge of her chair with her chin resting on her hands. Instantly his need to protect returned. “I will kill him,” Erik said as he checked his pistol one last time and swung toward the front door. Storm sprang to her feet and ran after him. “Where are you going?” “The gully. It ends tonight.”

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Chapter Fourteen Aerik blocked his son’s path. “I’ll kill him,” Erik spat through his teeth. “I’ll kill both of them.” “A good warrior sets his fury aside and clears his mind before battle. If you walk past me in a rage you will die tonight. You have your weapons, my son, but you don’t know how Holdar is armed. Only a fool goes into a blind battle.” Erik looked into his father’s eyes and nodded, at last relinquishing his anger and accepting his father’s counsel. “I thought of him like a brother,” Erik mumbled as he turned away, holding his hands on his hips. “When he lost his business I gave him work. When he lost his health I kept him on. We were family, I thought. After all these years of working together I don’t understand how he could do this.” “Betrayal is the sharpest knife I have ever known,” Aerik replied, setting his hand on his son’s shoulder. In his mind’s eye he could still see the boy riding bareback through the hills, a shaggy pony following behind him. Erik could ride a horse before he could walk, and Aerik was convinced that his son could calm a horse even if a pack of wolves were before him and his mount. “Ride out with me,” Erik said, turning to his father. The intensity shone in his dark blue eyes, reminding Aerik of his own youth. “I have seen where the beast lays in wait. We will face them together, father and son.” “No, you put your wife and my grandchildren at risk by leaving your home. We draw them to us,” Aerik replied. “How?” Aerik stared off into the distance, the wind blowing at his red-blonde hair. The air still smelled like rain, the clouds in the distance flashing with lightning as the storm rolled west. Through the pine trees he saw the full moon and repressed a shudder. He knew the dangers, knew the battle he would face in the end. His time would come to enter the great hall, but Aerik hoped his sons would not follow close behind. Aerik gripped his sword’s hilt and lowered his voice. “The werebeast comes to her when she sleeps, correct?” Erik’s face tightened as he guessed his father’s intentions. “That still puts her in danger.”

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Aerik’s eyes narrowed. He kept his gaze trained on their surroundings. “You said the dreams began when the effigies first arrived. Were all of them destroyed?” Erik crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not all of them, but I broke most of the statues this evening.” “Good, but if this is where the creature is summoning its power, then you must be rid of them. Bury them away from the house and tell Storm to sleep.” Erik hesitated. “I don’t know if she’ll do it.” “She must. You will stay with her in her dreams and I will watch over you both as you sleep. If Holdar dares to show his face on your land I will kill him, but you understand that if the werebeast appears in dreams there is little I can do.” Erik exhaled. “Let me ask her.” Both father and son turned, finding Storm in the doorway. “Is there any other way?” she asked. Aerik looked from his son to Storm. Coming to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Through marriage you are my child, and I would put neither my son nor my daughter in harm’s way.” Storm placed her hand over Aerik’s and forced a smile. “Don’t let it take me.” Drake was in no condition to wake. After giving him two aspirin and forcing him to drink some water, Storm covered him with a blanket and waited for him to fall asleep again. “This feels illegal,” she muttered, tucking him beneath a quilt. “Drake, I’m so sorry.” Drake was too disoriented to complain, and once she covered him with a second blanket and checked the back of his head, she returned to the bedroom where her husband was waiting. “Where is your father?” “Destroying the effigies for good,” he replied, motioning for her to sit with him. “He will guard the house while I stay with you.” Storm sat on his lap, welcoming the feel of his protective embrace. She touched the amulet and felt him kiss the top of her head. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Storm gripped him around the back. “I would rather see you.” “You will,” he promised as he lifted her chin. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and tenderly kissed her lips. “I’m not going to lose you, not to anyone.” They sat together until Storm’s eyes finally grew heavy. “Where are you?” she murmured once Erik laid her down. He stayed near her, allowing her to clutch the amulet as she rested. The last thing she felt was Erik’s beard brushing against her hand as he kissed her fingers. “I’m with you,” he reminded her. “Always with you.” ***** Erik found Storm dressed in white and standing by a ditch. Her gossamer dress and scarf flowed around her, her bare toes curling in the dewy grass. “I didn’t come here,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “This isn’t my dream.” “I’m here,” Erik replied, clasping her hand. Her skin felt unusually cold in his grasp. “There’s no sound,” she commented, her turquoise eyes flitting in the darkness. “No wind, no crickets. Why is it so quiet?”

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“I don’t know,” Erik answered, moving to stand behind her. His hands snaked around her, locking around her belly. Storm relaxed in his grasp, her head tilting back to rest against his chest. They stood together for a long time, encompassed by the unmoving night. Erik caressed her stomach and sides, gently planting kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck. “I feel something,” Storm said suddenly, her hands curling around his wrists. “Something strange.” Erik tensed as well, his eyes staring straight ahead. A gust of wind began blowing, the cacophony of nature swirling around them, gripping her dress and scarf. Storm gasped, but no other sound emerged from her throat as the beast loped from the shadows, its shoulders bunched and head held low. In the moonlight Erik could only make out alabaster fangs and yellow cat-like eyes. “This should be my land,” the beast seethed. “Nothing here belongs to you, Steve.” The werebeast let out a raspy laugh as it flexed its clawed hands. “Everything here should belong to me. I gave my life to this business! What did you do?” “I worked for my place.” “You married into this place. Once Diana was gone I thought you’d find your way back out.” As his words registered in Erik’s mind, the werebeast grinned and began to circle. Erik kept his eyes trained on the beast, searching for its weakness and hoping that his father was right, that this thing’s power would wane now that the effigies were destroyed. “Now you know, but I fear it’s too late, Double E.” Erik’s grip on Storm loosened. He put himself between the werebeast and his wife, who could barely breathe. “Then what are you waiting for?” Erik’s mortal, earthbound body heard glass breaking and a thunderous crash outside. It jolted his dreaming mind, clouding his senses. Storm screamed in response to his grip lessening. With a roar the werebeast lunged, pink maw opened and claws extended. Erik ducked, taking Storm with him as he tumbled. He lost his hold on her as he grabbed his gun and fired into the darkness, but the commotion outside their bedroom distracted him and he shot at nothing. “Storm, wake up,” Erik commanded, reaching for her hand. He turned and found her sprawled out on the grass, her head to the side and lips parted. “Storm,” he tried again, grabbing her by the arm. Still, she didn’t respond. Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Erik felt his dreaming mind releasing its hold on Storm’s presence. He gripped her tighter, but everything around him was fading as he broke through the barrier of dreams and reality. With a jolt Erik woke and discovered Storm’s body was missing. He ran to the bedroom door and came face to face with his father, who was picking shards of glass from his sword hand.

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“She’s gone,” he said as he ran down the stairs. Aerik’s face darkened as he joined his son outside the front door. “Holdar attempted to enter your home, but I found him first and forced him back.” “The full moon must increase the creature’s powers,” Erik said over his shoulder. “Where did it go?” Aerik questioned. Entering the stable, Erik grabbed a bit and took his favorite horse, Sigurd, from his stall. When he rode bareback from the stable, Aerik was astride his charger. “To the place where my first wife and child were murdered,” Erik answered before he heeled his mount.

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Chapter Fifteen Storm kicked and struggled, attempting to free herself as the werebeast pulled her through the grass. She knew she wasn’t dreaming. The air felt different, the musty smell that filled her nose making her want to gag. She had never before felt anything like what she had just experienced. Her body felt pulled into two pieces, one drifting, blowing across the landscape while the other, heavy as lead, was removed from where it lay in bed. “Let me go!” Storm screamed, her nails no match for the creature’s thick skin. She pounded against its arms, thrashing from side to side in a fight for her life. With one wrenching pull, the beast brought her mouth to his and kissed her so hard she thought her lips would bleed. It stared at her, licking her taste from its snout before dropping her on the ground. Storm turned away, but the beast grabbed her by the feet and snarled as it lingered over her prone form. “Mine,” it growled, chest heaving beneath the moonlight. “Mine!” She screamed, backing away like a crab. The werebeast made no attempt to catch her again, and as Storm began to struggle to her feet she came face to face with a scowling visage that bore through her. Storm’s breath caught in her throat. Behind the man stood a red-eyed wolf, its front half covered with black fur while its hindquarters consisted of rotting flesh and exposed bone and sinew. Immediately she understood that her captor was Holdar—and that the lupine form of Steve Canton was serving Erik’s uncle. Holdar snatched Storm by her shirt collar and dragged her to her feet and brought her face within an inch of his sneer. “This has nothing to do with you,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with pleasure. “But many innocent die when there is a war, especially when it involves the gods. It’s a pity, don’t you think?” “Stay away from me!” Storm screamed as she beat her hands against his chest and struggled to kick him. Drawing his hand back, Holdar slapped her, sending her to the gravel. He looked past her, and Storm followed his gaze to the beast that stood with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “Leave the girl,” it growled.

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“Have you killed him?” Holdar questioned. The beast nodded and looked at her. Storm could no longer think of him as Steve Canton. He wasn’t human in her eyes, wasn’t worthy of a name. “Why would you do this?” she asked, feeling tears sting her eyes. “How could you do this to Erik?” The beast stared at her, and as Storm lay on the ground she saw the feral look in its eyes. There was such vacancy in the creature’s yellow-eyed gaze, such emptiness. It was like looking into the eyes of an unfamiliar dog. No compassion, no respect, nothing but death and primal need. As far as Storm was concerned Steve was already dead. “Why?” Storm whispered. He ignored her and nodded to his master. “I killed him and took the woman. She is mine. My service is complete.” Holdar’s eyes narrowed as he strolled past Storm with his hands clasped behind his back. “And where is the proof? Where is his amulet?” The werebeast faltered, his stance wavering as Holdar approached. Storm felt her heart pounding. She knew Erik wasn’t dead, and from the look in Holdar’s eyes he knew it as well. “You left him alive?” Holdar seethed. “I need that amulet, I need him dead.” The werebeast took a step back, hands extending to display its claws. His yellow eyes flickered toward Storm, who felt her skin rise in gooseflesh the moment their gazes met. “You will have your amulet,” the creature promised, his attention once again trained on Holdar. Storm struggled to her feet, finding her chance to flee. The ranch gates were faintly visible along the road up ahead and that was her only focus. Behind her, the werebeast growled and lunged at Holdar. She glanced back, checking the distance she had on both of them. The last thing she heard was the beast yelping before she sprinted as fast as her bare feet could carry her over the unforgiving gravel. The sound of her pounding heart was drowned out by the sound of thunder—thunder in the skies above and along the road as two horses approached, both black as the night. A hand reached out and grabbed Storm around the waist, draping her across the horse’s body. “I’ve got you,” Erik said. Storm squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto Erik’s leg as she was jostled along with the speeding horse. She heard two cracks—gunfire, she knew—and the wail of something that was not of the earth crying out. Her eyes popped open, mind attempting to decipher what direction she faced. The horse came to a sudden halt and Erik slid her down to the grass. “Stay here,” he instructed. She was too dizzy to do otherwise. Her fingers knotted around the grass as she sat, her stomach churning and a prickly cold overwhelming her senses. Erik stood over the fallen beast. Its clawed hands looked human again, and even in the darkness Storm could see a blade’s guard protruding from the creature’s gut where Holdar had stabbed it.

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The beast grunted as it attempted to apply pressure to the wound. “Are you satisfied now?” it growled. It coughed and spit blood as its face slowly contorted into something more human than animal. Erik removed his pistol, cocked the hammer, and aimed at the bloody lupine’s head. “Double E,” the beast strained. “The statues. It’s the statues.” Erik nodded and the beast lay back, extending its neck to expose its throat. Before the shot was fired Storm turned away, shuddering as the pistol’s blast broke through the night. “A mercy killing,” Erik mumbled in the night. “My brother.” Without another word he returned to Storm, helped her onto the horse, and led her back home. His father stood over the werebeast’s body, which had already begun to decay, the flesh turning to dust in the night’s breeze. Erik grasped Storm’s hand tightly before he joined his father. With her head bowed, Storm began to sob. “Where are you going?” Erik asked his father. “To find Holdar,” Aerik answered. He sighed, looking at his son’s face for the last time. “What about my brothers? I need to know where they are.” With a nod, Aerik took his son by the shoulder. “Alekandar is in the wilds. I believe he will track you down before you find him.” Erik nodded. “He’s the only wolf I want to see again.” To that Aerik smiled and turned to his daughter. “You are good for my son. I see it in your eyes, the strength of your heart.” Storm threw her arms around his neck. “I love him more than anyone in the world.” Aerik drew her back and touched her cheek with his index finger. “You have room in your heart for many more loves.” With a smile, Storm turned to Erik and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll be with the horses.” Erik nodded. “Take Sigurd back and check on Drake.” With Storm on the horse, Erik and his father walked back toward the ranch. “Do you know where Birgir is?” Erik asked. He was the only one close to his younger brother. They were born in the same year, twins in no one’s eyes but their own. “I have yet to find Birgir and Kaelon,” Aerik replied, his eyes fixed on his son’s amulet. Erik followed his father’s gaze. Without hesitation he stopped at the end of the long driveway and removed the amulet. His finger brushed past the turquoise stone before he passed it to his father. “Will I see you again?” Erik questioned, staring at their joined hands. Aerik’s lips formed an easy smile. “One day,” he answered, bringing his son to his chest for one last embrace.

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Epilogue A year later… Storm was napping when Erik returned from the races. He found her curled up in bed with a blue baby blanket under her head and a pink one in her hands. He watched her sleep for a while as he stood in his freshly pressed slacks and dress shirt. With the twins being three months old Storm decided to forego changing diapers and nursing at the track for lounging in bed. Now that he had returned and Drake promised to care for the horses, Erik wished he had chosen a nap as well. Waking her with a kiss, he smiled at her rounded face. Her cheeks were rosy from sleep, her skin bright and flawless, the perfect image of a wife and mother. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said as she blinked at him. “Hey. The twins aren’t awake yet, are they?” “Your sister has them,” he answered. “She rode with me from Dallas and couldn’t wait to take them for a walk around the ranch.” Storm grinned, propping herself up on her elbow. She wriggled in closer to Erik and ran her hand down his back. His mouth opened to hers, kissing her passionately, his lips hot and lingering. Storm kissed him, savoring the sweet taste of his lips. “I missed you,” she murmured. She touched his chest where the amulet once hung. “I dreamed about you this afternoon.” Erik kissed her knuckles. “Good dreams?” Storm nodded, kissing his neck as she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “How long do we have to ourselves, do you think?” she whispered. “She promised an hour at least,” he answered. “Then what are you still dressed for?” she teased before his lips closed over hers.

Jenna Marshall

The Viking Stones

Brea’s Bounty By

Jenna Marshall

Jenna Marshall

Prologue A cool breeze ruffled his hair as he crouched low to the ground looking for signs of the man he was tracking. The grass and dirt were only slightly disturbed - his quarry was good but he was better. He tested the air and sniffed. There, he thought, was the scent he had been following. His prey was only moments ahead. He gave another sniff and lengthened his stride. It was time…

Jenna Marshall

He’s mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf… Shakespeare

Chapter One Present Day Northwest Mississippi “Don’t know why you won’t let me put that critter down,” Sheriff Hendrix repeated for the fifth time with his hand itching to draw his service revolver. “He’s bleeding like a stuck pig.” “No,” Brea was firm. “Wolves are known to be vicious, you know, especially wounded ones.” “I said no!” Brea said with an emphatic shake of her head. She knew the sheriff thought she was either silly or stupid, but she just couldn’t let him destroy such a beautiful animal. “I need to try and save it.” She knew she could stop the bleeding if she could get to her healing herbs. All she needed was a little help loading the wolf into the bed of her old pickup and she’d be on her way. Ignoring the sheriff’s blustering, she knelt beside the injured wolf and examined the knife wound on the inside of his hindquarters. It looked like someone had tried to castrate the poor thing. Another inch closer to center and they would have likely succeeded. “And what of the man he killed? Huh?” She cast a glance in the direction of the grisly murder scene, then back to the sheriff. “Get your head outta your butt, Bill.” The wolf lifted his head and coughed, and she patted his furry flanks in an effort to keep him calm. “This animal no more cut that man’s head off than you did.” Brea raised her head and sniffed, catching the stiff breeze that had come up. “It’s going to start raining soon. You’d better call the coroner’s office and get that body out of here before all your evidence gets washed away.” “Now, you’re predicting the weather! Is there no end to your talents, little girl?” Hendrix scoffed. “Just tell me how you know for certain it’s going to rain?” “I can smell it in the wind.” Brea was so mad she wanted to slap him. “Since I’ve got the Witch of Shelby County’s word for it, it must be true.” “Give me your hanky, Sheriff,” Brea demanded. “Why do you need my hanky?” Sheriff Hendrix asked with a sneer. “You going to cry?”

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“Never,” she said. “Now give me your hanky, damn it!” Brea shook her hand in a silent demand. The sheriff pulled a blue work hanky from his back pocket and reluctantly gave it to her. “Thank you,” she murmured as she tied the bandana around the wolf’s leg and applied pressure. “Aw, damn it to hell, Brea,” the sheriff cussed when he saw how his bandana was being used. “I never would have given you my kerchief if I knew you were gonna do that with it.” “I know,” she replied, unfazed by his tirade. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.” If the sheriff had been the one with a knife wound so close to his family jewels, he would have shot someone to get a piece of cloth to bind his wound. Brea continued tending to the injured wolf and ignoring the sheriff. ***** After what seemed like a century, the wolf was all settled in her living room. Brea walked the two deputies to the door. “Thanks for giving me a hand. I appreciate your help.” Butch Henry, the younger of the two men, gave Brea an anxious nod. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, scooting out the door with a faint, “I’ll be in the car, Chester.” Brea watched Butch scramble to the squad car and climb behind the wheel. “Don’t mind him, Brea,” Chester told her. “He’s more scared of you and your reputation than he is of that wolf.” “Stuff like that doesn’t bother me anymore, Chester.” Brea sighed and cast a glance at the injured wolf lying on an old quilt in the middle of the front room.” Chester put his hands in his pants pockets and dipped his head. “As long as I’m here I was wondering…” He let his words trail off. That little bit of body language told Brea he wanted something, so she prompted, “What is it, Chester? You know I’ll help you in any way I can.” “Well, it’s been over twelve weeks since Sherry had the baby, and she still doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” Brea watched as the color crept up his neck to blossom on his cheeks like Pearly Mae’s prize-winning tea roses as he added, “You know, sexually. And I was just wonderin’ if you had anything that might put her in the mood.” Brea buried the urge to laugh. She’d sooner cut off her lips than hurt Chester’s feelings. He was one of the few people in town that treated her decent all the time. “I know just the thing to perk up Sherry’s libido, but I’ll have to make it.” Chester’s smile split his face in two and he grabbed her hand, shaking it with a grip that crushed her fingers. “What’ll I owe you, Brea?” “Not a thing. Remember, I still owe you, Chester.” And always will, she silently added. When he started to argue, she shook her head and said, “No,” again. “Make it a real special night with some flowers and a bottle of wine, and you better see if your folks can take the baby for the night because I guarantee you won’t make it to work the next day,” she teased. “You kidding? The sheriff’ll be knocking down my door and dragging my ass outta bed if I’m more than fifteen minutes late.” “Hey, Chester, you coming or what?” Butch called.

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Chester motioned with an impatient wave at his partner. “When you think you’re gonna have that stuff ready?” “Give me a couple of days. I’m not sure I’ve got all the ingredients on hand,” she told him. “Call me first. You got my number.” He was one of the few people she trusted to have it. “You bet,” he said as he let himself out. “And you be careful with the wolf, okay?” “I’ll be fine,” she said, casting another quick glance at the injured animal. “He won’t hurt me.” For that she got a funny look from Chester. A fact she found none too surprising. She surprised herself by the resolute certainty in her statement. There was a larger than normal male wolf lying in the middle of her living room, but, for whatever the reasons, she knew she had nothing to fear. Brea turned around and stared at her furry houseguest. As far as she could tell he hadn’t moved a muscle, but there had been times while talking to Chester that she’d felt the wolf’s eyes following her. Telling herself the sooner the wolf got well, the sooner he could be turned back into the wilds, she hurried off to gather the medical supplies she needed. Heading into the pantry, she found the jar of salve she needed made with comfrey and tea tree oil. It had been one of the first items she’d made from the book of receipts she’d found in an old abandoned house. She’d first thought they were recipes for food dishes, but soon discovered that none of the concoctions were intended for consumption. Instead they were for organic-based salves, lotions, and creams. There were even a few potions and spells that could be used to exact revenge or conjure love and desire. Gathering up all the items she needed, Brea had time to ponder the situation. Even after considering all the terrible things that could happen, she couldn’t make herself believe she was in danger. Maybe it was her sanity she should be questioning. Returning to the living room loaded with the needed supplies, she noticed the wolf still hadn’t moved and she checked to see if he was still breathing. A relieved sigh broke the tension-filled moment when she detected the faint rise and fall of his chest. Brea knelt near the wolf’s hindquarters and gently raised his good leg, propping it on a stack of clean towels in order to give her better access to the wound. Pulling the blood-soaked handkerchief away from the injury, she wondered with a wicked grin if the sheriff was going to want it back. The cheap SOB would more than likely send her a bill for the dang thing. Thinking of the sheriff must have made her tug a little too hard on removing the bandage because the wolf gave a pitiful yelp and a whimper, as if telling her to take it easy. “Sorry, boy,” she said, giving his furry rump a couple of soothing pats. “Just thinking about Sheriff Hendrix makes me crazy,” she explained through clenched teeth. There was so much blood still oozing and matting the fur around the wound, keeping her from examining the injury. Washing away as much blood as she could, she snipped away the hair that stuck around the cut. All the while she worked, she began to appreciate how thick and soft the wolf’s fur was with its summer sunset mixture of gold, tan, cinnamon, and a beautiful red that appeared to have an inner glow. She’d pay a small fortune at Cora’s Cut N’ Curl to try and get her hair dyed to any one of those glorious shades.

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Working slow and steady, she finally exposed the edges of the wound. After examining the laceration, Brea realized stitches were in order. She considered calling the vet, but she and Dr. Cletus Worley weren’t on the best of terms ever since she smacked him across the jaw in the produce department of the Piggly Wiggly for mistaking her ass for a honeydew. Looking at the intimidating animal, she murmured, “Well, Mr. Wolf, you’re not going to like this. I’m not too keen on the idea myself, but it’s gotta be done.” Gently, she washed the cut with a solution of boric acid, and then took an ointment containing myrrh and spread it across the edges of the wound to numb the pain. “I’ll be right back,” she told him. “Gotta get a needle and thread.” She didn’t feel the least bit awkward talking to an animal, even if he couldn’t understand. She knew her tone could convey a lot. Besides, it made her feel better. After sterilizing the needle, she made her way back to the wolf’s side and began to rub her fingers through the luxurious fur. It might not do much for the wolf, but it seemed to make her feel better so she continued, and would have sworn she heard him sigh. Threading the darning needle with heavy cotton, she watched the wolf with a cautious eye. To say she was amazed would have been an understatement when he raised his leg as if to say, “Let’s do it.” Holding the edges of the wound together, she murmured, “Here goes,” as she took the first stitch. The wolf made a soft sound somewhere between a whimper and a whine. Brea was relieved it wasn’t an outright snarl. Concentrating on her stitches, the wolf laid as quietly as he had before. With the final stitch tied off and snipped, Brea let out a deep sigh. “You can breathe now,” she told herself. “You’re done.” She sat back on her heels and looked him over from the tip of his wet nose to the end of his bushy tail. Sans injury, he was a large, obviously healthy, male wolf otherwise--she could say that with all confidence because as she’d moved his leg during her nursing she couldn’t help noticing the undeniable evidence of his maleness. He was a big boy all right. Whoa, where was her mind going? She jumped to her feet and grabbed everything off the floor. It was time to clean up her mess and fix herself a bite of dinner. ***** While she ate her simple meal of eggs and toast, the rain started. She felt like calling the sheriff and saying, “See there, you old bastard, I told you so.” Gusts of wind rattled the roof and sheets of water pelted the windows of her little house as sporadic lightening lit the yard. Thunder rolled in from the west sounding like “angels bowling,” as her mother used to tell her in an effort to calm Brea’s little girl fears. She searched her pantry for something to feed her houseguest. He needed nourishment. Deciding on a can of chicken broth, she found a bright yellow ceramic bowl, dumped it in and warmed it slightly in the microwave. She knew he had to be thirsty. Hopefully, he would drink it. Placing the bowl close to the his big head, she found herself telling him about what she’d done to close his wound and the tang-kuei she’d added to the broth. “I’ve done what I can, now it’s up to you. Do yourself a favor and drink this broth. It’ll help regenerate the blood you’ve lost and help you rest.”

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The rain continued beating against the house’s tin roof, bringing with it an uncomfortable dampness that compelled Brea to light a fire. Once the cozy glow flickered from the stone hearth, she turned on the lamp next to the couch. Snapping off the harsh overhead light, she left the ceiling fan turning to keep the warm air circulating. Drawn to the wolf’s side, she sat cross-legged beside him on the floor and began to run her fingers over the wolf’s head. She massaged his velvety muzzle, running her fingertips between his eyes, across the back of his head and rubbed his pointy ears. He gave a contented whimper and nuzzled her hand. Stretching a front leg, he shifted his huge paw to place it beside her bare foot. The leathery pads radiated warmth against her skin and caused her to wiggle her toes and giggle at the way it tickled. “You’re welcome,” she said, thinking there were humans who wouldn’t show their gratitude so eloquently. She found herself talking to him, telling him things she never told anyone before. He was the perfect companion and confidant – no interruptions and no blabbing afterwards. “I got my start in making natural remedies years ago when my father and I came across a old decrepit house while we were walking in the woods.” She massaged the wolf’s ears and his good hind leg started to twitch in heartfelt appreciation. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, working her way down his back. “The kudzu should have taken it over, and you’re absolutely right. That’s what we thought too. But it was the strangest thing. The vines stopped at the edge of her yard and went no further. “Dad said that an old woman named Miss Mary had lived there for years and that the locals thought she was a witch.” Running her hands down the wolf’s back and side, she rubbed first with the hair and then against the grain. She wound up with a fist full of loose fur for her effort. “I must have been about twelve, and I really wanted to go inside to see what a witch’s house looked like. We spent all afternoon going from room to room.” Now Brea moved her hands and fingers in slow, steady circles through his fur. He started to pant like a dog needing water and she moved the bowl of broth closer. Sniffing it, he lifted his head and took a couple of laps. “The only thing I found interesting that day was an old canvas-bound book that had the barely legible word ‘receipts’ handwritten on the cover. Dad said for me to go ahead and take it as Miss Mary wouldn’t be needing it anymore.” The more Brea rubbed the wolf the more she felt herself relax. He seemed to settle down as well as he stretched to lie flat on his side. He opened his eyes slightly, and for a split second Brea was sure she had seen a glimmer of human emotion there--one of pleasure and wholehearted contentment. It stunned her at first. Shaking her head she sat and stared at him for a few minutes, trying to convince herself that she had imagined the expression. When he expelled another deep sigh, she took that to mean that he was simply enjoying what she was doing. That’s all it was, she told herself, it’s his way of letting me know it’s okay to pet him. So she continued as she went on with her story. “When I showed the book to my mother, she said, ‘Let’s see what Miss Mary liked to cook.’ Boy, were we surprised. The so-called recipes were for all types of salves, ointments,

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potions, creams, and elixirs. There were medicinal treatments, beauty aids, love potions, even a couple of curses.” The fur she threaded through her fingers was so soft and luxurious. They were in for a harsh winter, that’s for sure, if his thick coat was any indication. Laughing, she thought, wouldn’t Sheriff Hendrix love to hear that one? She couldn’t seem to stop rubbing and touching this magnificent creature. Raking her fingers through his pelt, something suddenly dawned on her. He didn’t smell like a wild animal. Instead, his fur smelled like the outdoors--woodsy and fresh like a cleansing breeze on a hot summer’s day. The scent was intoxicating and made her wish she could bottle it like one of her potions. It aroused her and made her feel all tingly and wet. The glide of his rough tongue across her ankle made her jump. Startled by the thrilling jolt that shot through her, she shifted away from the makeshift pallet and the animal lying on it, unable to make sense out of the crazy sensations she experienced. Leveling a curious green gaze on him, she encountered the most soulful amber eyes looking back. Again she saw more than she expected, human-like emotions that made her shiver and wonder what it was that made her feel this way. Was it the isolation and loneliness finally getting to her? Why else would she find herself behaving like this? Climbing to her knees, she told herself she was being ridiculous. But another whiff of his scent made her want to lie down beside him and cuddle and…and what? Realizing the direction her thoughts were heading, she bolted off the floor and muttered, “It’s time to get busy, Brea.” She headed into the kitchen to make Chester’s elixir.

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Chapter Two After a restless, dream-infused night, Brea awoke to the sound of floorboards creaking in the living room. Scrambling out of bed, she hurried into the hall. Coming off the braided bedside rug, her bare feet slapped the cold linoleum as she came to a startling stop and threw herself into reverse. Backing up, she groped behind her to find her bearings and collapsed onto the maple deacon’s bench lining the hall wall with a hard thud. Her belly did a crazy flip at what she found. The wolf wasn’t there. Brea gulped to find enough air and asked, “Who-who are you?” she asked the gorgeous man who sat on the quilt with shoulder length red-blonde hair and the body of a health club god. She couldn’t stop staring. He was magnificent and, except for a small corner of the quilt that lay across his lap, totally nude. The most gorgeous eyes the color of raw amber flecked with gold stared back. “Who are you?” the man-god echoed, smiling. The quilt shifted a scant fraction of an inch and her stomach did another tumble. Her mouth went dry. “This is my house, and that’s my quilt wrapped around your…uh, your…well, you,” she stammered, feeling like she was talking around a wad of cotton. “Shouldn’t I be asking the questions?” She didn’t necessarily feel threatened by this man, but she sure as hell wanted to know what he was doing there. Brea glanced around. “And where the hell is my wolf?” In spite of everything she couldn’t help admiring the view. She’d once overheard some young things in town use the expression, “I’d do him,” when referring to a good-looking guy passing by. No doubt about it. She’d do him, and if he didn’t keep that quilt in place it might be sooner than later. What was she thinking? Oh, she really needed to get a social life. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked in a gentle tone. “Of course. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” Brea sat very still, trying not to let her gaze wander. She didn’t want to embarrass the man, or herself for that matter, by staring like she’d never seen a naked man before. “You want it straight up or sugar-coated?” She’d take it any way he wanted to give it, she thought, as a warm flush crept through her. Oh, he meant his explanation, she realized. “Straight up, please.”

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He hesitated a few seconds more, and then said, “I’m a bounty hunter who also happens to be a shape shifter. Being a wolf helps me track better, so that’s what I do. Ah, change into a wolf, that is.” Brea pursed her lips and nodded her head. “I see,” she said. “That certainly makes sense. If I could change into an animal I’d turn into a rabbit so I could locate the plants I needed.” And a lot more efficiently than she did as a human, too, she added thoughtfully. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say about what I just told you? Don’t you have any questions you want to ask me? Don’t you want to call the sheriff to tell him you’ve got a nutcase sitting in you living room?” “Are you a nutcase?” she asked. “No!” he exclaimed. “Of course not.” “Then why’d you bring it up?” He pondered her question and breathed a little laugh. “I’m not sure.” “To be honest, there are a lot of questions I’d like answered. Like, is there pain when you change, plus another hundred or so I can think of at the moment. But right now, there is one thing in particular I’d like to know.” “What’s that?” “Your name? Your human name.” “My name is Alek Eriksson. The wolf’s is Marvin.” “Really?” “Just kidding,” he chuckled. “But you still haven’t told me why you trust me.” “If you were going to hurt me, you would have already done so. As to trusting you, it’s simple and yet complicated. I just do.” “Thanks.” Brea watched him raise his hand to his throat where an amulet hung. Where did that come from, she wondered. She couldn’t remember it being there last night. It had the worn patina of antique silver with an orangey-gold speckled stone embedded in the bottom arc. He cupped his hand around the metal and seemed to hesitate. She recognized that look. Her mother’s doctor had a similar look right before he used the words cancer and inoperable in the same sentence. She hated that I-don’t-know-how-totell-you-this look. “There’s more, isn’t there?” she said. As if what he’d already told her wasn’t enough to knock the tar off the chicken coop. “Yes, there’s more,” he said shifting uncomfortably. “But right now I could really use a bathroom.” “Oh, gee,” she said, feeling like a tongue-tied teenager instead of a practically thirtyyear-old woman. “The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right,” she told him, pointing the way. “I didn’t think. I’m so terribly sorry…” “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he told her as he started to rise. “But unless you want to get the full Monty, I’m going to ask you to either turn around for a sec or close your eyes.” “Certainly,” she said, turning on the bench until she could rest her forehead against the wall. She squeezed her hands into fists and berated herself for being so slow on the uptake. “Do you have any idea where my car is?” “The sheriff found a black Jeep parked down the road from where we found you.”

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“That’s mine. Did he leave it or have it towed?” “After he ran your plate he said he was going to check to see if the owner was camping in the area before he did that. It’s probably still there.” Still staring at the wall, she said, “Is it okay if I turn around now? I’m starting to get a crick in my neck.” “Of course. I must have left my manners in my wolf suit.” Brea moved to lean against the wall and stared again now that he was standing. Her gaze went up and up and up. He had to be at least six–foot-four, and, as her mother used to say, built like a brick shithouse, but a beautiful one, however. Alek strode past her and hesitated before entering the bathroom. “I didn’t get your name?” “Brea,” she said. “Brea Cavanaugh.” Her imagination was off and running again as she viewed the quilt she’d helped piece together with her grandma wrapped around the lean middle. Not that she was an expert or anything, but it was the best body she’d ever seen. “Brea,” he said, as he disappeared through the doorway. The way he said her name made her breath catch as she imagined him close enough to whisper it in her ear. “Coffee?” she said with a breathy rasp as he entered the kitchen. Clearing her throat, she added, “Or juice? I’ve got orange and apple. The OJ is fresh squeezed.” “And the apple?” he questioned with a teasing grin. “Fresh bought,” she replied with a chuckle. “Orange is fine. And coffee, too.” “Here’s your juice, drink up while I work on the coffee.” “And food,” he said. “Don’t forget about food. The broth was good and all, but I’m ready for something a little more substantial.” “I bet you are,” Brea remarked as she flipped the switch on the coffeemaker. “How about bacon, eggs, and toast? Or would you prefer pancakes?” “Yes to all of the above.” “Hmmm, you must be as hungry as a…” “Wolf?” he finished for her. “Exactly,” she said, tossing him a quick smile as she opened the fridge and started pulling out the breakfast fixings. Thirty minutes and very little conversation later, Brea’s butcher-block table was loaded with heaping platters of scrambled eggs, crisp fried bacon and golden brown buckwheat pancakes. Before she could say breakfast is served, Alek had helped himself to three-quarters of it and was eating away. Every few seconds she heard an appreciative, “Um um,” or a garbled, “This is great,” but otherwise he never took his eyes off the rapidly disappearing vittles. Sitting there watching Alek eat, she felt a comfortable warmth settle in her chest. I wonder how it would feel to have him sitting across the table from me for every meal? Taking another quick peek, she realized that she would thoroughly enjoy it, especially if he also occupied her bed at night. Whoa, Brea, back the truck up and put it in park. Adorable hunk though he may be, she had to remind herself that he had been a four-legged critter just a few short hours ago. This man was also a bounty hunter – a man who probably didn’t stay in one place long enough to warm the seat he sat in, let alone sit in it long enough to get familiar with it.

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***** Alek couldn’t believe he was sitting at Brea’s table “wolfing” down food--she in her pajamas and he in her quilt, and for whatever the reason he felt completely comfortable. In fact it was a little too comfortable. It wasn’t like him to let go and relax like this - with anyone. Maybe his hormones were trying to tell him something. Yeah, like, jump her bones, old buddy. After all, it had been some time since he and his dick had some fun. Beatrice, his secretary, kept telling him that all work and no play made Alek a very unsatisfied man. He’d never known her to be wrong. For sure, Brea turned him on. Every muscle in his body strained towards her, especially one in particular. Hell, if it weren’t for the weight of the quilt his dick would be standing at attention and saluting. But making a move on her now would really be a shitty way to pay her back for taking care of him, now wouldn’t it? That still got to him--how confident she’d been that he wouldn’t harm her. He wouldn’t have, but she couldn’t have known that. His fork hovered over his plate at the way this woman had trusted him in his other form without reservation. Except for his adoptive parents, no one had ever accepted him like that before. He’d never let them down, he wouldn’t let Brea down either. “Are you all right?” Brea asked, frowning. “Why?” “For one thing your fork is suspended in midair looking as though you can’t decide whether to throw it against the wall or resume eating.” “I certainly wasn’t going to throw it. This food’s too damn good for that,” Alek motioned to his plate. “I was just thinking about my folks. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.” “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?” “Twelve years.” He heard Brea gasp and knew she’d grasped the fact that they were gone. “They were in a highway pileup on their way to El Paso to visit me. It killed eight people.” Brea reached across the table and touched his hand. It was such a simple gesture, but it touched him more than he wanted to admit. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I lost both my parents, too.” “No other family?” Alek asked, covering her hand with his own. “None, unless you want to count Sheriff Hendrix,” she replied with wry twist of her lips. “Hendrix? How could he possibly be kin to you?” When she tugged her hand from his grasp, he thought maybe he’d gone too far by insulting one of her relatives. “I’m sorry, Brea. I should have asked how he’s related.” Brea stood and took her plate to the sink. She turned back to the table and, as she began putting away the butter and jelly, said, “He’s a cousin on my mother’s side, twice removed, but he thinks that’s close enough to tell me what to do.” “How so?” Planting her fist on her hip, she questioned, “You sure you want to hear this? It’s a long story that gets me riled every time I talk about it.”

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“Only if you want to tell me. I don’t want to upset you, but it sounds like there’s one hell of a story there.” And Alek did want to know. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. Of course, he couldn’t do anything about it but torture himself, but it would be such sweet torture. Brea pulled out the chair and sat down. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” At Alek’s nod, she said, “Ever since I found the book-” “The one you found in the old house?” he interrupted, recalling what she’d told him the night before. “How did…” she started to ask, then remembered how she’d spilled her guts to the wolf the previous night. “That’s right, the book from Miss Mary’s.” She reached for the coffee pot and filled both their mugs. “The kids started teasing me, calling me a witch. At first I didn’t mind but as the years went along, the teasing escalated and turned vicious. They would egg the house and car and TP the trees and bushes.” Watching Brea as she told her story, Alek noticed that she’d tensed up so tightly she looked as though she’d break into a million pieces if he touched her wrong. “Now tell me the rest, Brea.” When she looked at him with a startled look, he knew he was right. “You’re leaving something out, right?” Nodding, she wrapped her arms around her stomach. “They didn’t quit at that.” She hesitated so long Alek was ready to tell her to forget it, but then she started talking again. “They’d drive by and take pot shots at my mother when she was in the garden. And that numb-brained sheriff never did a damn thing about it. We figured it was because one of his sons was more than likely one of the shooters.” “And?” There was still more. He could sense it. “When I was in the tenth grade, a gang of boys grabbed me after school and tried to rape me. If it hadn’t been for Chester, they would have.” Alek was appalled. He remembered Chester as being one of the deputies who helped get him to Brea’s house. When he’d heard Brea and Chester talking, he’d thought they were more than friends--until he’d heard Chester ask her to make a potion for his postpartum wife. Now, Alek could only say a grateful prayer that Chester had been there when it mattered. “And what did your cousin have to say about that?” “When Chester and I reported what happened, he told me that I had brought it all on myself. He never did anything about it then and he hasn’t done anything since.” “As you said, it sounds like he’s covering for someone. Before I leave I think I should have a little talk with the sheriff.” “Please don’t do that. He’s so vindictive there’s no telling what he’d do. I don’t know if you remember when we first found you he was convinced you cut the man’s head off.” Alek chuckled. “I loved how you told him to get his head out of his butt.” “What did happen out there, Alek?” she asked. “What did cut that poor man’s head off?” “It was a sword, a broad sword.” He wondered how he knew that. “And that man was not a ‘poor’ anything. His name was Darrell Evans, and he had a rap sheet as long as your leg.”

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Alek wondered what and if he should tell her what he thought he saw. He looked at her and had his answer. “When I rushed him in wolf form, he turned and stabbed me just as my front feet hit his shoulders. I fell to the ground but Darrell didn’t. “Right before I lost consciousness I saw a man with wild hair much the color of mine, and a full beard dressed in what looked to be some type of crude tunic and trousers held around his calves with crisscrossed leather straps. He hoisted a gleaming sword and took the man’s head off in one swing.” Alek could not believe what he’d seen but he knew it had been real. “The man called me by my full name and raised his fist to his chest in a kind of salute. Then he said, ‘Beware of Holdar and Alaric, my son, and may the Aesir in Asgard be with you and keep you strong.’ Then he vanished.” Clearly intrigued, Brea leaned on the table and rested her chin on her fisted hands. “Who do you think he was?” “I’m not sure,” he answered, wishing to God he had an answer. He didn’t remember anything about his life before the elderly couple found him wandering in the forest as a teenager and took him in. Every time he tried to remember, he suffered from such debilitating headaches he was forced to stop. There were times when little things popped into his head like the word Kaelon, but he had no idea if that was a person, place, or thing. He had searched numerous times online but never found anything until recently when he came across a Norse dictionary of archaic words and terms. That made sense considering his surname was Scandinavian. Now he had a couple of more words to look up, if he could ever figure out how they were spelled. “If I believe that I’m his son, then it might fill in some of the blanks I’ve had about my past.” He watched her as she absorbed what he told her. He could almost see her sift through the information and reach her own conclusions. “Let me ask you something, Alek. When you’re trying to find someone you rely on instinct and gut feelings, right?” “Well, yes. It’s an important part of what I do,” he replied, arching an eyebrow as if to say, “So what?” “Okay, so what’s your gut telling you about this apparition? “ Alek grew still as he regarded her question. What did his gut tell him, he asked himself? “My intuition tells me what he said was the truth. But I’ve got more questions than answers going through my head.” The phone interrupted any reply Brea might have had. “I better get that,” Brea remarked as she hurried into the living room. Alek could hear the murmur of her voice but couldn’t make out what she was saying. “That was Chester,” she said when she returned. “He’s coming by later this afternoon to pick up the potion so we’d better get you out of that quilt. It’s going to be tough enough explaining your presence and the wolf’s absence without grandma’s crazy quilt wrapped around your waist thrown into the mix.” Alek looked down at his informal attire. “There’ll be questions all right if he finds me like this. I’m going to need you to go to my car and get my clothes.” “I’ll get dressed and go right away.” Brea stopped in her tracks. “There’s just one teensy little problem. How do I get into your car?”

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“The car has a key pad entry. I’ll write down the code.” He pushed back his chair and came around to her side of the table. “Great food, Brea. I don’t know about your elixirs and creams, but your hospitality is the best. Thank you,” he said. “You’re welcome, Alek. I’m glad I could help.” She cast him a shy smile. “Brea, would you do me one more favor?” “Of course,” she said with an agreeable nod. “I’d appreciate it if what I just told you stayed between us.” “Of course,” she said. “What we talk about is no one else’s business.” “Thanks again.” Needing to put some space between them, he forced himself to step back. If he stood there much longer he’d find out just how kissable her lips were and if those green eyes turned darker when heated with passion. Damn it, man, you are going to get yourself in a world of trouble if you persist with these kinds of thoughts. She touched the amulet. “What is that?” “A Thor’s hammer.” “It looks very old,” she said, rubbing the stone with her thumb. “It is, according to the experts.” “Where did you get it?” “I was wearing it when Daniel and Edith Ebbins found me.” Alek was too aware that he was naked except for the quilt and that she was wearing nothing but her pajamas. Now her hand lay like a brand on the carnelian cabochon. He placed his own hand over hers and pressed, just enough to make her widen her eyes and raise her gaze. Alek cleared his throat and dropped his hand from hers. Jerking her hand away, Brea said, “Sorry. It’s just so fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Neither had I, until yesterday. The man with the sword was wearing a similar amulet, only his had a variety of stones embedded in it.” “All the more reason to question what he told you.” Alek still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. Even through the pain, he knew that the man was talking to him. “I want to start searching as soon as I get my computer.” “Where is your computer?” Brea asked, looking around as though she would find it sitting on the cupboard. “In my Jeep. So if you don’t mind could you bring the brown leather briefcase as well as the suitcase?” “Sure,” Brea nodded. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She snatched her keys off the counter and was almost out the front door before Alek stopped her. “Uh, Brea,” he said. “Don’t you think you ought to get dressed first?” he asked, smiling and hoping he was the cause of her absentmindedness. Brea stopped short and laughed. It was husky and self-depreciating, and it caused his groin to tighten as he watched her scurry into her bedroom and close the door. “That woman’s got me so hard I could drive nails with my cock,” he muttered as he parked himself on the couch, wondering if a long-standing hard-on could do permanent physical damage.

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Chapter Three Brea pulled up beside Alek’s Jeep and turned off the ignition. Still flustered and frustrated from the way he made her feel, she didn’t immediately get out. She’d never been this horny in her entire life. Tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel, her mind kept thinking about one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Her vast and overwhelming experience with men amounted to a total of one – man that is, six years ago. That relationship lasted almost four weeks until Chester told her that her sex buddy had been bragging at the Drink & Go Bar that he’d turned the tables and bewitched the witch with his sexual prowess. There was quite a reception waiting for him when he showed up at her door the next day. Sweet tea laced with saltpeter left him unable to perform his bewitchment on her or any other woman that night. She’d heard so many new cuss words that she started a dictionary, which she still had in the bookcase. Whenever she needed an exceptionally good expletive, she’d simply pull it out and let one rip. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing he’d taught her. The other was that she just wasn’t cut out for happily-ever-after. She’d thought she’d been happy the last six years, never missing what she didn’t have, but the craving came roaring back like a runaway train the minute she met Alek. Just looking at Alek made her nipples tighten so much that every time her top rubbed against them she thought she’d come. She’d be damn glad when he could put some clothes on. Every time she saw his chest she resisted the urge to start rubbing it. She was sure his muscles were delineated just for her enjoyment. The thought of brushing her fingertips across the expanse of his shoulders filled her with longing. His shoulders were the kind she could anchor onto when he climbed on board and carried her into the throes of passion. No sense getting riled up about a man who wasn’t going to be around more than a day or two. She didn’t really want to get involved with a drifter, she told herself. Who was she kidding? She’d take him anyway, anywhere, anytime she could, and the sooner the better. Fifty-seven minutes later she was back. Grabbing the leather brief case and soft-sided satchel, she headed for the house. Before reaching the front door, it opened, and there he was, still wrapped in that damned quilt. “I thought you were going to shower while I was gone?” she said, trying not to sound annoyed. Didn’t he know how sexy he looked in that thing? “I did,” he said. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his head. “See. My hair’s still damp.”

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Well so it was, she realized, flexing her fingers in the cool strands, feeling the warm skin beneath. She’d been so busy thinking about what he wasn’t wearing she hadn’t noticed. He stood so close. She could smell the scents of shampoo and toothpaste – and him. Especially him. He was driving her crazy and it wasn’t even noon. Steady, Brea. “Here’s your suitcase,” she breathed, tugging her hand out from under his. Was it just wishful thinking or did he seem reluctant to let it go? “You’d better get dressed.” Truer words were never spoken. Get dressed or get attacked. “Oh, god,” she murmured a few minutes later when Alek came out of the bedroom dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged him like a second skin. It was all she could do to keep herself from getting to her knees and begging. Panting would come in there somewhere, too. Her breathing was already coming in short, gasping breaths. He sat down on the hall bench and pulled on socks and sturdy-soled hiking boots. It was an act of seduction in itself. It also made her realize the quilt covered way more than the soft denim did. She’d never really checked out a guy’s crotch before, but she caught herself staring at his package. It made her wish she’d been paying more attention all these years. “What time did you say Chester was coming over,” Alek asked as he slipped on his last boot. Jolted out of her concentration on the bulge between his legs, she asked, “What?” “I asked what time Chester would be getting here.” “Around one,” she muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall. She had about an hour to keep it together before he got here. God forbid that he should be late. Alek dropped his foot to the floor with a thump. “Okay, then, where’d you put my laptop?” Pointing to the kitchen, she said, “You can set up in there.” “It’s a laptop. I don’t need a place to set up. If you don’t mind, I’ll just park myself on your couch.” “In here? Why in here?” Walking towards the kitchen, he said over his shoulder, “Because I’d have to clear everything off the table when it was time for supper.” Those few words went straight to Brea’s heart. Well, at least, the man planned on being around for another meal. That was something to feel good about. Now, if she could interest him in another dish that was hot and ready! He laid his things on the couch and stood over her. She looked straight ahead and found herself staring dead even with the bulge under his fly. All he’d done was stand there and she was practically drooling. “Brea, is something wrong? You’ve been acting funny ever since you got back.” Waving her hand idly in the air, she told him, “No. Not a thing.” She was going to hell for lying--that was for sure. There was indeed a lot wrong, but nothing she wanted to tell him. At least not right this minute. “Okay, if you’re sure.” She could feel those damn amber eyes boring into her. The sudden urge to move from his presence came over her and forced her to leap to her feet. She needed to get herself under control.

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“Excuse me, Alek,” she said, turning on her heel. She couldn’t make it to the bathroom fast enough. She splashed her face with cold water and swore she saw steam rising from the collision of cold meeting hot. Alek was standing in the hall when she came out of the bathroom.” What?” she asked, “Do you need the bathroom? It’s all yours.” “No.” He shook his head. “You left in such a hurry I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned against the wall in a loose-limbed pose, looking like a man comfortable in his own skin. “There’s nothing wrong, Alek, nothing at all.” She crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped that he couldn’t tell she was lying. How in the world could she tell him that she wanted to fuck him? He stood there another few seconds and then said, “I’m sorry, I’ve upset your routine like this, Brea.” “You didn’t upset anything, Alek. In case you haven’t noticed, my life is pretty dull and quiet. Nothing you’d want to write home about, anyway. If anything, you brought a little excitement into my run-of-the mill existence.” Damn, girl, just how much more pathetic could you have sounded? “Glad to be of service, ma’am,” he said with a smile as he tipped the brim of an imaginary hat with two fingers. She could feel her own smile beginning to pull at the corners of her mouth. This man fascinated her, and she wanted to fulfill his every dream. Too bad she wasn’t the kind of woman who could make that happen. “You know,” she said, clearing her throat and rubbing her forehead. “I think there’s a little table out back that’ll work as a desk for you. Let me go get it so you can start reaching out to the real world again.” She squeezed by him and headed for the porch. Once he’d set up his equipment next to an outlet, Brea excused herself so she could pour up the potion she’s made for Chester. Mixed with a little tea or wine, the potion should relax Chester’s wife so she could fully enjoy the mini-vacation Chester had planned for them. During the phone call, he said his folks were taking care of the baby so he and Sherry could get away to Memphis for a long pampered weekend at the Hilton. Sounded like paradise to Brea. Alek’s voice filtered in from the living room as he spoke to someone named Beatrice. Judging from his tone and the words she could make out, it had to be his secretary. Brea poured the tonic into a plain milk glass bottle instead of the vibrant rosy pink one she would have normally used. Most women loved the color and delicate hourglass shape but Chester had asked that she keep it simple. There were different color jars and bottles for each of her products, which she ordinarily labeled with her Brea’s Bounty logo and list of ingredients. This bottle, however, would remain label-free, also at Chester’s request. To say she was pleased and proud of the all-natural products she created and distributed would be an understatement. As she dropped the bottle into a small paper sack, a thought occurred to her. Observant law-enforcement officer that Chester was, he’d notice that there wasn’t another vehicle in her yard to explain Alek’s sudden presence.

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“We need to get your Jeep now,” she said just as he hung up his phone. “You sure we’ve got time?” “Oh, yeah, we can be back in thirty minutes if we hurry,” she said. “And I’ll leave a note on the door for Chester to wait in case we’re not back.” “Okay, let’s go,” he said as he shut down the computer and checked his pockets to be sure he had the key. “Ready?” Brea asked as he climbed into the passenger seat of her ancient pick up. “Yeah,” he said looking around the front yard as she backed out of the gravel drive. “Nice little house. I don’t remember much from yesterday when you and the deputies brought my alter ego here.” Had it only been yesterday when she brought him home, she wondered? It seemed like a lifetime ago. “Is that what you call the wolf?” Brea asked. “Your alter ego?” “Yeah, I haven’t found anything better so far.” “Makes sense, I guess,” she agreed, watching the road for any small creatures that might cross her path. She’d encountered dozens of rabbits and turtles, and even a few chicken snakes over the years of traveling these back roads. “I’ve got a question for you,” Alek said, angling his body towards her and putting his knee on the bench seat between them. “Fire away.” “What are you going to tell Chester about me?” “I’ll think of something. Just follow my lead, okay?” Alek raked his fingers through his hair and rolled down his window. “This is a beautiful world you have here, Brea. The air smells so fresh and clean.” He inhaled deeply and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry I brought so much chaos into your peaceful little world.” “Chaos follows me, Alek, mostly in the form of Sheriff Hendrix and the ‘boys’,” she told him as she guided her truck down the muddy narrow lane she’d followed earlier that morning. Alek jumped out the second she stopped. “Meet you back at the house,” he said. Before she could respond, he was in the vehicle and firing it up.

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Chapter Four Following Brea back to her house had left Alek with some time to think long and hard about how he felt and how he could best help her. He’d really love to turn the wolf side of himself loose on the sheriff and the ‘boys’ as Brea called them. He’d enjoy gnawing off their cocks and leaving them screaming for their mothers. Just imaging it gave him pleasure. There was only one thing that would give him even more pleasure – having sex with Brea. He’d been aroused the whole day and showed no sign of abating. He really thought he could die happy just imagining it. What would happen if he got a chance to do the dirty deed? “Down, boy,” he muttered to his body part in question as he ran his palm across the swollen ridge beneath his zipper. Maybe he’d better take a long shower tonight and take care of his hard-on. He was pretty good at reading people and Brea was like looking at an open book. He could tell from the way she acted that she wasn’t very experienced with men. Was it the attempted rape that made her leery, or was there more to her reticence? He really wished he’d known her back then and it had been him and not Chester who had come to her rescue. The sniveling cowards would have been left holding their balls and nothing else. Just ahead Brea put on her blinkers and made the left turn into her driveway. He needed to find a way to ensure the sheriff and the men never harassed her again. It was the least he could do for her. Brea motioned out her window with a wave. He leaned out his window and asked, “What?” “Move your car around back, okay? That way I won’t have the whole county noticing that I have a visitor. Gossip flows about as fast as water around here.” She really did have a good head on those lovely shoulders, Alek thought, as he passed her car and pulled in close to the porch. Before getting out, he snapped open a hidden drawer under the backseat and pulled out a case that contained his 9mm Glock. He hoped Brea didn’t mind having guns in the house. Tucking it under his arm, he locked the Jeep and went around the house and followed Brea inside. Just as he was about to tell her about the weapon, he heard a car pull up. “That must be Chester,” she said.

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With her attention on answering the door, Alek took the gun case and nudged it under the couch with his foot. He didn’t need a deputy realizing he had a gun on the premises. It was best to get it out of sight. “Hi, Chester,” Brea said, pushing open the screen door. “Come on in. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Chester entered and stopped in his tracks when he noticed Alek standing in the middle of the living room. Alek could feel him trying to gauge what was going on and wondering just who the hell the intruder was. However, Alek didn’t feel like an intruder any more. He felt as though he belonged there - more and more so with each passing minute. “Chester, this is Alek Eriksson. Alek, this is my very good friend, Chester Donnelly.” Alek waited another second and then put his hand out. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Chester. I’ve heard nothing but nice things about you from Brea,” he said with a handshake and a smile. He certainly didn’t want to scare the man away, after all, he was the only one who looked after Brea. Chester said, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Alek,” and then he turned to Brea as if to ask, “Well?” Alek could tell that Brea really didn’t know what to say so she handed Chester the small package. “I sure hope this does the trick. Pour it into any drink, iced or hot, and tell her its chamomile. I guarantee it will do the job.” Before any of them could say another word, Alek heard a second vehicle pull into the drive. “Were you expecting anyone else?” he asked Brea. “No. I wonder who it could be?” She went to the front window and looked out. “Damn, it’s Hendrix and he looks like he’s in a lather about something,” she said. “I’ll let him in,” Chester remarked. Alek saw her shoulders tightened up with each step Chester made toward the door. He wished he could help Brea, but for the moment, this was her show. “Come on in, Sheriff,” Chester said through the screen. “You checking in on Brea, too?” Hendrix walked into the living room like he owned the place and everything in it. Alek felt his hackles rise. Putting this man in his place would be a pleasure. “Well,” the sheriff said as he took in the three of them. “Is this a private party or can anyone join you?” Brea looked the sheriff over and crossed her arms in an unmistakable stance of defiance. “If you want to join us you have to play nice, but since that’s not your strong suit how about telling me why you’re here and then leave me alone.” “There you go again causing problems for yourself,” the sheriff said as he took a step towards her. Alek and Chester moved at the same time to keep Hendrix from invading Brea’s space. Although he wasn’t happy about it, he backed off. “State your business, Sheriff,” Alek told him. He was in a fighting mood and it wouldn’t take much to set him off. The sheriff looked at Alek and asked, “Just who the hell are you to tell me what I can or can’t do?” He then turned to Chester. “I expected you to stand up for her. Thought you’d have learned by now that she’s nothing but trouble.”

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Chester walked up to Hendrix until he was nearly toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose. “Looks like both of us have a problem learning our lessons, Sheriff. I recall telling you more than once, you don’t pick on Brea.” “Don’t threaten me, Donnelly, or I’ll have your badge. Much as I often regret it, she’s still kin, and it’s my duty to keep her out of trouble.” The sheriff ended with a huff. “Stand down, Hendrix, or you’ll regret it,” Alek said. The sheriff looked past Chester and said, “I asked you once already who the hell you are, mister. I’d better get some answers, now.” “You will, as soon as you sit down and ‘play nice’ as Brea asked. Until you do, you won’t hear anything from me.” Alek watched Hendrix assessing the situation. He snorted with contempt. “This is worst than dogs fighting over a bitch in heat!” That’s when Chester’s fist connected with the sheriff’s jaw. Chester shook out his bloodied knuckles. “What part of play nice don’t you understand?” Hendrix rubbed his jaw and gave Chester a burning look. “You’re gonna pay real big for that one, Donnelly.” Alek hoped the dumb bastard had enough sense to let these dogs alone. He knew he’d growled once, hopefully only Brea had heard. “You ready to tell me what you came out here for, Sheriff?” Brea asked. Hendrix looked from Chester to Alek and then said, “The Jeep wasn’t the dead man’s vehicle.” “It’s mine,” Alek spoke up. “If the report didn’t tell you, I’m a bounty hunter. I was tracking the man you found. He jumped bond in Texas. I have all the documentation if you want to see it.” The sheriff’s surprise showed clearly on his face. “Well, where in the hell were you when all that was going down yesterday? All we found was a big injured wolf that Brea insisted she bring home and the guy you were looking for.” He stopped and looked around as though another thought came to him. “Where is the critter, by the way?” he asked. “In the woods where he belongs. He got out the front door this morning and we haven’t seen him since.” Brea turned to him, as if reminding him to follow her lead. The sheriff followed her gaze. “Where’d you say you were?” “I got turned around in the woods. When the rain started, I got completely disoriented.” Alek sure hoped his explanation pacified the sheriff. “Why were you in these particular woods?” the sheriff continued with his line of questioning. “I just told you. I was tracking the dead man, Darrell Evans.” “But why here?” the sheriff asked with a persistence Alek was beginning to find annoying. “Evans was originally from around here. I found out that he used to camp out in those woods. I’ve learned over the years that people gravitate to familiar territory when they’re running.” Alek didn’t want to give away too much to the sheriff, but he knew he would have to let him have some information just to get him off their backs. “When his younger brother Justin was caught after their last robbery, he was ready to cut a deal to lessen his sentence, including ratting out his own brother.”

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“And all that information is available to a bounty?” Hendrix asked with a slight shake of his head. “It is with the right connections,” Alek confided. “Guess that about answers all your questions, Sheriff,” said Brea. “You know your way out.” “Not so quick, little girl. I need to see some identification from the outsider here to be sure he is who he says he is.” Alek reached for his wallet. “Not a problem. Here’s my driver’s license, my registration, and a copy of my certification,” he said, handing it all to the sheriff. “If you need more, I can give you phone numbers of bail bondsmen, judges, and different police departments who’ll vouch for me. Additionally, I can give you the URL to my web site.” The sheriff took a quick look at the items Alek had handed him. “That won’t be necessary. This looks to be in order. I’ll just need to write down some of this information for my files.” Alek grabbed a notepad off the table doubling as his desk and gave it to the sheriff with a “have at it” flick of the paper. Finally, Alek thought, when the sheriff handed the three identifications to him and rose as if ready to leave. He should have known Hendrix wouldn’t leave without trying to have the last word. “Be assured I’m going to check you out from stem to stern, as we say here in the South,” he told Alek. Turning to Chester, he said, “If I were you I’d be looking for another job.” Chester looked the sheriff in the eye and said, “You’re not me, Hendrix, and don’t you worry about my getting another job. I already got one.” Alek saw Brea jerk and knew she was surprised by the news. To give her credit, she didn’t ask any questions. She sat there quietly. Hendrix just stared at Chester. “What the hell do you mean? You’ve already got another job?” “I was going to give the department two weeks’ notice, but I don’t think I can do that now.” “Hell, no, you can’t. But you’d better be there first thing Monday morning to clean out your desk.” With that said, he turned on Brea. “Now, about you,” he started, but backed off quick enough when the two men converged on him. Alek had enough of the bastard, and he could tell from Brea’s posture that she’d had more than her share of him, too. He looked at Hendrix with a small smile on his lips. “As we say in the West, Sheriff, looks like you’ve worn out your welcome. Let me show you out.” The sheriff jumped when Alek took his arm and led to the door. “Wait, now just a minute. Who the hell do you think you are?” “I’ll make this real easy for you to understand. I’m the one staying, you’re the one leaving.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chester flank the sheriff’s other side. “Let me give you a hand, Alek.” The sheriff tried to elbow one and then the other, but Alek increased his grip until the sheriff gave a bellow. “I can arrest you two bullies,” he threatened, looking from one man to the other. Brea piped up, “I only see one bully here, Sheriff. And he’s leaving.”

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“The only way I want to see you back on this property, Sheriff Hendrix, is when the men who have been harassing me show up again. And you’d better come quick when I call,” Brea told him. “I expect you to do your job for once, Bill.” Alek leaned towards Brea and whispered, “I love a woman who stands up for herself.”

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Chapter Five The shiver set off by Alek’s husky compliment started at her knees and went upward, lingering like warm honey in her belly, then scurried down her arms, leaving goose bumps in its wake. That’s when she made the decision she’d been wrestling with all day, well actually eight hours since she first saw him sitting on her quilt in the raw. She wasn’t going to sit around and let him leave without making love with him. She was going to seduce the man if she had to strip naked and throw herself at his feet. “Are you all right, Brea?” Chester asked with concern. “Never been better, Chester. For the first time in a long time I’m more than all right.” She smiled as she turned to go into the house. “I think you need to tell me what’s going on with you.” Chester said, “I should have told you sooner, but I really haven’t had the chance. I knew that I couldn’t work for the sheriff much longer without knocking his head off so I took a day trip into the next county and talked to the sheriff over there. This was, oh, about a week ago.” He leaned forward in his seat and looked directly at Brea. “You are the only thing that kept me from doing this a long time ago. But I had to make this move because-” “You don’t have to say another word, Chester. I understand.” Thinking about his wife and baby, Brea gave him another smile before adding, “You did get another job, right?” “Heck, I barely got in the front door before Sheriff Braswell had me in his office offering me a job. Seems like Sheriff Braswell has friends living in this county, and Hendrix has caused a lot of trouble for them at one time or another.” Chester hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t want to leave you alone so I thought if I could find you a small house like this one close to where I’ll be, you wouldn’t have to wrangle with Hendrix and you could still sell your products in town.” “Chester, you’d better be glad you took that job, because if you hadn’t I would have made your life miserable,” Brea said, resting her elbows on her knees and giving him a direct look. “And don’t worry about me, I’m okay now and I think Hendrix will be a little nicer to me after today.” “But why is Hendrix always on your back?” Alek asked. “This house was built by our great grandparents. When my mother died, he went as far as saying that he believed the house should go to him, being he was the last living male relative and all. He told me I could come live with his family and he and the boys would take

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care of me,” Brea finished with grimace. “My guess is he needed a housekeeper for him and the boys.” “What happened to his wife?” Brea shook her head. “Rachel walked out when the youngest boy was eight.” “I heard she even went so far as to call Hendrix and his sons the spawns of hell,” Chester chuckled. “At least that’s the scuttlebutt around the station.” Alek gave a bark of laughter. “Can’t say that the man doesn’t deserve everything he gets. But you don’t have to worry about Brea, Chester. I’ll make sure Hendrix and his boys are taken care of before I leave, even if I have to turn him in myself.” “That sure makes me feel better.” Brea felt Alek’s gaze on her, but she tried not to show any emotion except for the gratitude she felt for her dear friend. “You know, Chester, I don’t think you’re going to need that potion this weekend. Not if you show Sherry the man I saw here today.” Embarrassed, Chester dropped his head. She kissed him on the cheek anyway. “Now get out of here. You wife’s waiting.” Chester rose and said with a laugh, “She sure is.” “I’ll see you in a few days?” “That’s a big 10-4, and…” Chester started patting down his pockets as if he’d lost something. “I almost forgot.” He pulled a piece of folded purple stationery out of his back pants pocket. “Here’s a list of things the ladies need you to bring them the next time you go into town. They also wanted me to tell you your order is in.” Brea took the sheet of paper and read, “Twelve each, face creams, hand creams and lotions, double on the peppermint scented one, and anything for colds and the sniffles.” She folded the square of paper and laid it on the table by the couch. “The ladies are selling my products by the armfuls, which really makes me happy.” She could tell that Chester wanted to go but on the other hand didn’t. He was torn so she stood and said, “Chester Donnelly, you get in that car and take your wife out of this town.” “Are you sure?” Chester asked. When Brea gave him a nod, he grinned. “Okay, then, I’ll be seeing you the first of next week.” He then turned to Alek. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s been an interesting day, Alek, I hope to see you again too.” The two men shook hands and simultaneously looked at Brea. “What’s wrong? Is my slip showing or do I have lipstick on my teeth?” Brea asked. All they did was smile at her and at each other. “Okay, you two break up your Alpha male party.” She shooed both of them towards the front door with a flick of her hand. When Chester had gone, Brea sat back down in the chair and said, “Alek, now I have a question for you.” “All you have to do is ask.” He sat down and leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. “I want the rest of the story.” “You make it sound like Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story. What ‘rest’ do you particularly mean?” He seemed surprised and not quite sure how to answer. “That story about Darrell Evans and his brother. I got the feeling you were leaving something out, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it might have been.”

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“Oh, that story.” “Yes, of course, that story,” Brea said sarcastically. “Give.” “All right.” “It can’t be that easy,” she remarked with a lift of her brows. Alek relaxed and crossed his legs, ankle to knee, and said, “Yes, it’s that easy. I was going to tell you anyway. It’s pretty weird.” “Weirder than seeing the man appear out of the clear blue sky wielding a sword?” Brea questioned. “Even weirder than that.” “How?” she asked. “The security videos we have of the robberies are always the same showing Darrell and Justin holding up the service station, the food mart, the liquor store. Except every eyewitness gives a different story that there were three men involved in the holdups.” Brea sat forward in the chair. “Three men? Then why didn’t all of them show up on the tape?” “We don’t have a clue but Justin corroborates the eyewitness testimony. There was a third man involved.” Alek crossed his arms over this chest. Brea rose and looked down at Alek. “I think I’ll ponder on what you just told me while I fix us a bite of supper.” “Need any help?” “Yeah, stay out of my kitchen,” she teased. “Why don’t you start poking around online and see what you can find about those words you wanted to look up.” Ever since Alek had told her about finding his name on a Nordic website, she couldn’t help but think of him as a Viking. Physically, he certainly looked the part. The mystery of Alek and his past had captured her imagination and having him here with her, wolf or human, had certainly brought her alive. While throwing together a basic meal of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, chips, and iced tea, Brea heard Alek talking on the telephone and the sporadic click of the laptop keyboard. When she had everything ready, she called him to the table. “Brea, would you mind bringing it in here so I can work and eat at the same time?” Alek said. Grabbing the plates, Brea made her way to the living room and sat the plate with two sandwiches on the table beside him. Hers, she sat on the arm of the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. “Be right back,” she told him as she went to get the glasses of tea. After she was settled and had eaten enough to get past the ravenous stage, Brea asked, “Have you found anything?” Alek swallowed and pointed to the screen. “Just got on the EverythingViking website I used when I looked up my name. So far I’m just about through scanning the A portion of the dictionary. He scrolled down another page or so and remarked, “I’ve found the word Asgard. It’s the place where the Nordic gods lived. Then I did a cross reference with that word for other words or phrases used in connection with Asgard and up popped Aesir, which is nothing more than a collective term for the gods. So loosely translated, The Aesir in Asgard means the gods in their heaven.”

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“Sounds like a pretty logical conclusion. Did you get in touch with your secretary?” she asked. “Yes. She said the police had a sketch made from the eyewitnesses’ descriptions. She’s going to email it to me tomorrow.” “She sounds very efficient,” Brea commented. “Beatrice is that and more. I depend on her to take care of so many things and that way I do what I do best and that’s track fugitives and bail jumpers.” Brea studied Alek as he stared at the laptop. He was concentrating so hard a furrow formed across his forehead. She itched to rub away the indentation until his brow was smooth once more. And then she’d… Here I go with the X-rated ideas again! She wondered if she would ever think of Alek without thinking about sex at the same time. Probably not, however, right now it was time to clean up the kitchen. While putting away the dishes, she flipped on the coffeemaker as Alek had requested. The second the sun started setting at that time of year it started getting chilly. A cup of hot coffee sounded great. She thought about lighting a fire as well. That would warm things up quickly. As if she wasn’t burning out of control already. How in the hell was she going to get through the next few hours without throwing herself on him? Brea wondered. Well, why not let nature take its course and see what came up. Oh, boy, did she know the answer to that one, she thought with a low chuckle, before returning to the living room.

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Chapter Six “What are you looking for now?” Brea questioned, leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look at the computer screen. Alek could hardly breathe. All he kept thinking about was he could turn his head and they would be lip to lip. Exactly where he wanted to be. Well, maybe not exactly, but at least it would be a good start. “Here. See this word, K-A-E-L-O-N. I thought it might be a place or thing, but damn it’s a man’s name.” Brea leaned closer and he felt her breath on the side of his face as she looked where his finger pointed. “Yes, I see it, but what does it mean?” “Damn if I know, but the word came to me out of the blue one day.” This whole trip had been a revelation for Alek, and he’d known somehow from the start that it could very well change his life forever. Seeing the man who called him son convinced him that there were many more changes and surprises to come. Brea was one surprise he wouldn’t have done without. Brea rested her palm on his shoulder as she leaned in once more. “Why don’t you print that up?” “This portable printer is slow as molasses in January. I only use it when I absolutely have to.” “My printer does about fifteen black-and-white pages in a minute, more if I set it to draft. Write down the web site and I’ll go print the dictionary up for you.” Alek wrote down the URL and turned to give it her at the same time she put out her hand to take the sheet of paper. His face and her hand collided. Frozen for the moment, neither moved, gazing at one another through stilted, labored breathing. Silent messages traveled back and forth between amber eyes and green. His pulse pounded like thunder in his head. His lips twitched against her knuckles. He touched her hand. “Brea,” he breathed, breaking the spell. “Uh, I’d better take care of this.” She left the room so quickly Alek didn’t have time to react to her abrupt departure. But he had wanted to. Oh, by the Aesir in Asgard, he wanted to. He was so hot and hard he needed to find relief. *****

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Brea hurried to her old bedroom at the back of house. After her parents were gone, she had moved into their room that overlooked the front yard. Living alone, she just felt a little safer there as she could hear anyone coming up the road. The bedroom of her youth was now a guest room-slash-office where she kept her computer. It was more office and catchall room than anything else since she never had any guests. Brea thought about Alek sleeping there and couldn’t picture him on the narrow single bed covered with a purple flowered bedspread. He wasn’t going to fit. He’d hang off the sides and dangle off the end. Nope, he would have to use her bedroom and she would sleep here. Of course, if she had her way, she’d be in that bed with him and they’d be doing everything but sleeping in her queen-sized bed. It took her shaky fingers three tries before she got the web address right. Finally, the site appeared and, after checking the supply of paper in the printer, she turned it on and clicked to print. She watched the pages start spewing out, chastising herself the whole while for being so skittish with Alek when what she really wanted to be was bold and daring. How would he know what she wanted when she behaved like a man-shy old maid? She needed to take charge, be aggressive. Spinning on her heels, she marched into the living room, ready to take the bull by the horns, or more appropriately the wolf by the tail. Struck by the way he filled her little living room, she came to an abrupt stop in the hall and watched him studying the computer screen with undivided concentration. Everything about him screamed male in boldface, capital letters with a rock hard body and a sexiness that wouldn’t quit. The blue denim stretching across his tight butt and down his long, muscular legs made her want to run her hands wherever the fabric covered. She felt a deep aching in her midsection. With a suddenness that caught her by surprise and shook her out of her reverie, Alek scrapped back his chair and stood. He moved with an amazing long-limbed grace she couldn’t help but admire as he dropped to one knee and reached under the couch, pulling out a black case from underneath. Coming up behind him, Brea questioned, “What’s that?” Alek turned on her so quickly it didn’t register with Brea until he had her by her arm. He released her just as swiftly. “Damn it, Brea, don’t ever sneak up on me like that. I could have hurt you.” Brea watched the vein throbbing in his jaw. “I’m sorry, Alek, I didn’t mean to set you off.” “Okay, Brea, but just be careful. I’m surprised, not to mention a little embarrassed, that you got the jump on me like that.” He took the case, set it on the end of the table, and started dialing numbers on the lock. “This is my pistol. I took it out of the Jeep when we got back, but I kicked it under the couch when we heard Chester drive up.” Brea watched as he lifted the handgun from the case--it also had a trigger lock. Not only the sexiest guy she’d ever met, he practiced exemplary gun safety. Who couldn’t love a guy like that? Holding the gun casually but carefully, Alek said, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought it into the house.”

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“Oh, no,” Brea said. “I grew up around firearms. In fact, I keep a Henry rifle in the bedroom closet.” “A Henry, huh? I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.” “It’s a beauty,” she confirmed. “It belonged to my daddy.” The thought of her father brought tears to her eyes. She missed her family. “Hey, you okay?” Brea looked up at Alek’s question. “I’m fine,” she said, sniffling. “Just getting a little sentimental.” She started for the kitchen. “How about some coffee? I almost forgot I made a pot.” “Sounds good,” he answered as he replaced the pistol in the case and closed it. “Need any help?” “Not with the coffee. But you could start a fire. It’s getting a little chilly in here since the sun went down.” ***** Alek searched for other Viking web sites without finding what he wanted and turned the computer off. “I’ll try again tomorrow. This has really been a long day.” He stood and stretched. “Ready for another cup of coffee?” Brea asked. “I’ve got cookies if you’re hungry.” Alek looked at her sitting there and the only hunger he felt gnawing at him was for her. He took her cup and set it on the table next to his. “I thought maybe you could take a look at the stitches you put in. They’re pulling and itching quite a bit.” Brea’s rounded eyes showed her surprise. “Already? It’s only been twenty-four hours.” “My system heals faster than normal and, yes, I do…think they’re ready to come out.” He could hear the devilish side of himself begging her, Oh, please, Brea. Don’t think. Just do it. “Okay.” Alek blinked hard. “Okay? Is that what you said?” “Uh huh. If you say they’re ready to come out, then they probably are.” She started for the kitchen. “I’ll get the stuff I need while you get ready.” He couldn’t believe she’d said she’d do it. “Where do you want me to lie down?” He toed off his shoes and started to unzip his jeans. “Wherever you’re comfortable,” she called to him from the other room. He heard her open several drawers as she gathered the things she needed. As he slipped one leg out of his pants, he patted his shirt pocket and felt the condom tucked there. He had what he needed, too. His penis strained against the cotton knit of his tighty-whiteys and he tugged his shirttail over the bulge to hide his eagerness as he adjusted his leg to expose the stitches without exposing everything else. Brea reentered the room and came to a halt. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to avert her gaze from his lap. “I thought you’d be ready by now.” “I am ready,” he told her. “I thought you were going to change into, you know, your other self.” “You mean the wolf?” She nodded.

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“I will if you really want me to, but wouldn’t it be easier to remove the stitches without having to deal with all that fur?” She gave a little laugh. “You’re right, of course. I never thought of that.” She kneeled beside the couch and situated herself between his spread thighs. As she examined her handiwork, he felt his thigh muscles tense beneath her gentle touch. ***** “Can you see everything okay?” Alek asked. “Or would you rather have me in a different position?” Naked and horizontal on the bed would be a good start, she thought, but said, her face only inches away from his crotch, “No, this is fine.” In fact, it was magnificent. She leaned forward, the scent of him pulling her closer. The musk, the heat, the base maleness of him was an intoxicating drug. “So, how do they look?” Alek asked, lifting himself up on an elbow. All she could think of was putting her hands on him, anywhere and everywhere. She touched the stitches instead. “There’s no sign of redness or swelling.” At least not around the stitches. “You still want me to take ‘em out?” “Oh, yeah,” he rasped. She clipped one stitch and then another. “Let me know if it hurts.” Taking the tweezers, she started to tug on the loose threads. The area she worked in was tight and no matter how hard she tried not to touch his straining package, she might have grazed against it once or twice. He flinched and gave a sharp gasp. “Oh my god.” She watched his hands dig into the couch cushion, his knuckles turning white. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Brea, honey, what kind of stitch did you use?” He tried to sound casual and failed, she realized. She could see firsthand what she was doing to him and it caused a little thrill to trickle through her. She cast him a smile. “A blanket stitch. It was the only one I could remember how to do and figured if it could keep blankets from unraveling it could hold the edges of a wound together.” When the last stitch was removed, Brea rubbed her fingertip across the line of new scar tissue only centimeters from another part of him she wanted to stroke. She watched with fascination as his erection twitched and strained, deciding to do what she wanted. “Alek…” she said, running her thumb across the hard ridge. “Can I…” He threw back his head and moaned, “Anything you want, baby.” Placing his hands under her arms, he pulled her up and into his lap. Arranging her legs to bracket his, she settled herself against his erection. The kiss sparked a flame that grew into a blazing inferno Brea knew wouldn’t be put out anytime soon. She curled into him, breast to chest, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing her fingers through the thick strands of his hair and took the kiss deeper. Feeling the tentative touch of his tongue, Brea opened her mouth and let him in with a welcoming sigh. The kiss grew deeper, wetter, and more out of control. *****

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Shifting positions, spreading her knees wider, she rocked back and forth against his cock. He moved his hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts, his thumbs working the nipples into tight knots. Gripping his shoulders, Brea moved restlessly against him. The feel of her bare flesh took away what little breath he had left. Brea grappled with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the soft cloth aside, finding the hair-roughened planes of his chest. She crawled off his lap and inched her fingers under the elastic waistband of his shorts. He wasn’t sure which one of them was moaning, not that it mattered. What mattered most was that he would soon be moving inside her. He eased her back and started to tug her jeans down her hips, kissing each inch of flesh he exposed. At the edges of sanity, he heard the sound of vehicles approaching. He dragged his lips away and said, “Brea, honey, someone’s coming.” Her head lolled on her shoulders, her eyes trying to focus as she gazed at him. She grinned and nodded. “Ummmm,” she moaned. “I am. You are.” Passion slurred her words. “Soon, very soon.” He heard the tires crunch in the gravel driveway. Oh shit, he thought. This is going to be a hell of a lot more difficult than he first imagined. He shook her gently, hoping to bring her out of her sexually drugged state and cupped her face to force her to look at him. “Brea, listen to me, honey. Someone has just pulled into your drive.” He kissed her on the forehead and started to pull her clothes together. ***** “What are you talking about?” she said, looking into Alek’s face. “I didn’t hear anything.” “But I did. Believe me, somebody’s out there. Chalk it up to my keen wolf hearing. Right now, I’d give my left nut to have whoever’s out there disappear.” It took another couple of seconds for his words to register. “Don’t even think like that,” she said, cupping the aforementioned body part. “I want you in one piece.” When Alek leaned closer and kissed her, she stroked the underside of his cock with a feathery caress. The rowdy voices of several grown men started chanting, “Witch, witch, Brea the witch. Come on out and scratch our itch.” Withdrawing her hand, Brea curled her fists over her ears and lowered her head with a tearful groan. “No, no. Not now.” “The boys?” Alek questioned as he hiked up his jeans. She nodded. Alek reached for his phone. “I’ll call the sheriff.” “Don’t bother. He won’t come out. If he did, he might have to arrest one of his sons, or worse.” “What could be worse than arresting you own sons?” “It could be the mayor’s son or brother out there. Or any number of other sons or brothers of the folks who got him elected,” she explained as she grabbed a jean jacket and jammed her arms into the sleeves. Alek finished zipping his jeans and closed his belt. “I’ll come with you.” “No,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “That would only make it worse.” Then she rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. He tightened his grip on her, as if he didn’t want to let her go. She moved out of his arms and headed for the front door.

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The men went wild with their hoots and hollers when she stepped onto the porch. “Oooowee, here she comes, boys,” one of them whooped. “Whose dick you gonna eat first, Brea?” Her stomach turned and her insides started to quiver, but she wouldn’t let them see any weakness on her part. She hugged her jacket around her and stood her ground, standing straight and tall. “Evening, boys, couldn’t get your wives to give you any tonight?” She counted five trucks lined up across the front of her house. Looked like all the regulars were there. One of them said loudly, “Hell, I done had her and two of her sisters already, and I wouldn’t mind adding you to the list.” At that, the wolf calls and base remarks increased. Brea moved a little closer to the edge of the porch. She stood there a couple of minutes until they fell silent. “The only reason I came out here tonight was to give you all fair warning. I’ve put up with your shit for years and I gotta tell you all, it’s getting a little tiresome. I’ve never retaliated before but from here on you’d better watch your backs…and your fronts,” she said with an evil chuckle. “Because if you continue with these little visits, I promise you’re going to find out just how good a witch I am.” She heard muffled murmurs as the men moved restlessly. That’s when the way to solve her problem hit her like a sledgehammer. She’d told Alek not to come outside, but she hadn’t told the wolf to stay inside. She smiled even though the men couldn’t see her in the darkness. Now if she could convince Alek to go along with her. “There’s one thing I’ve learned from your visits,” she began and was interrupted when one of the men yelled out, “What’s that, sweetheart? You wanna take us on one at a time or all at once?” The other men responded by laughing and clapping each other on the backs. She heard the hollow skitter of empty cans hitting the gravel and the following chorus of another six-pack cracking open. She shook her head. “Not in this lifetime, fellas,” she remarked before she turned and reached for the door. “Or even the next one,” she tossed over her shoulder. Alek grabbed her as soon as she walked in and kissed her deeply. When he finished her legs were ready to fold. That’s when he whispered in her ear, “I think I know a way to help.” Brea leaned back in his arms and asked, “How?” “Let the wolf do the talking. The feral smile he wore made him look even sexier. “What’d you do, read my mind?” Brea questioned. “The idea just came to me a few minutes ago. But you’ll have to help me.” He took her hand and tugged her with him as he headed toward the back bedroom. “What do you need me to do?” she asked. The element of surprise would make all the difference, and at this time, none of them knew she had a man in the house. Alek started taking off his shirt and then sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks. “You’ll have to let me out the back door and then lock it behind me. When I want back in, I’ll scratch softly.” “But what if they shoot at you or something goes wrong?” she said, hugging her arms to her chest. She would not be able to live with herself if something happened to Alek. “There’s a row of trees and underbrush not a hundred feet from your house. A wolf can get lost in that tangle for days,” he said, as he shucked his jeans. “Don’t worry about me, Brea, I’ll be back. There’s the matter of some unfinished business between us.”

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Brea reached up and kissed him soundly. “You just keep that in mind while you’re out there.” “I’d better not or I won’t be able to walk,” he replied. They embraced, holding onto each other as though they were going to be separated for years rather than minutes. She had no idea what Alek was going to do to the men, but she was going to enjoy every minute of it, she thought, as she opened the back door and let a naked Alek onto the porch. Locking the door behind him, Brea went to the front of the house. To keep the men from hearing Alek approach she stepped out on the front porch to face her antagonists once again.

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Chapter Seven Now in wolf form, Alek crouched near the side of the house and peered around the corner. He found the men leaning against their trucks, tossing back brews and talking. The moaning creak of the screen door opening diverted his attention and he listened. “I’m real glad to see you boys are all still here,” Brea told the group. “Why’s that, witchy woman?” one of them questioned. “You ready to take us up on our offer?” “I didn’t want the police coming out here for nothing.” “You’re just wasting your time calling the cops,” a husky voice drawled from the back of the first pickup. Alek crept closer. “Hendrix ain’t coming out here,” another one added. “Didn’t call your daddy, Bubba,” Brea shot back. “I already knew he wouldn’t drag his sorry ass out here. Oh, no, I called the state police. They’re a little further away but they’ll be here soon enough.” Alek heard more than one of the men suck the air around them. Alek found one man lounging over the hood of his truck, braced up by his elbows with his legs spread a shoulder’s width apart. He had a beer can in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Alek thanked the gods for the black as pitch night. The moon and stars were buried under a thick blanket of clouds. The man wouldn’t know he was there until it was too late. Someone said something that brought hoots and howls of laughter from the others. His prey slapped the hood with the palm and hung onto the truck as though it were a lifeline. It was time. Alek inched forward and opened his mouth. “What the hell?” the man screeched. “Let me go! Let me go!” “Are you fuckin’ crazy, Foster?” his buddy questioned. “Shut the hell up. You’re hollering like a stuck hog.” “I’m hollering ‘cause something’s got hold of my ass and balls and won’t let go.” He swung his hand around and felt the top of Alek’s furry head. “Yeeeooow!” Foster screamed as he started to hop and stretch across the hood of his truck. “It’s a grizzly!” Alek knew he wasn’t hurting the man. In fact, the guy was doing more damage to himself by twisting and turning in the effort of getting loose. Alek gave a deep-throated growl as he ever so slightly applied more pressure. He felt his fangs puncture the denim and poke

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the flesh. Now if the man didn’t pee on himself before Alek let him go, everything would be great. “A grizzly?” One of the men questioned with a rumbling chuckle. “I’m tellin’ ya there’s something biting me back there! It’s big and furry, and it growled.” “Sounds like your ass after eating your old lady’s chili.” “Stop laughing and help me,” Foster yelped. ***** Brea listened to the exchange and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Until she heard someone say, “That ain’t no grizzly, it’s a fuckin’ wolf,” and the distinctive cha-chunk of a pump action shotgun dropping a shell into its chamber, that is. Her smile fell from her face and she hollered loud enough to warn Alek, “Put the gun down!” Brea heard another man shout, “Shoot the fucker!” The first booming report had her screaming. “Alek! Alek!” She ran into the house and scrambled for her bedroom closet. The Henry leaned in the back corner behind a couple of seldom worn coats. She dug it out and pulled the box of cartridges from the top shelf. Before she could load the rifle, she heard truck doors slamming and the rumble of engines sparking to life. With Henry in hand, she ran out the door and watched the pickups disperse, tossing gravel and dirt as they tore out of her yard. Shaking like a leaf caught in a whirlwind, she stepped off the porch and into the darkness, terrified of what she’d find. ***** Alek heard the shotgun too and hightailed it into the underbrush before the shooter could pull the trigger. This wasn’t the first time someone had turned a gun on him. He’d learned how and when to make a hasty retreat. But Brea didn’t know that. He’d heard her screaming his name. When the yard was empty, Alek looked around to be sure there weren’t any stragglers. He circled around the back of the house where he crouched down and started the transformation process. Alek felt his bones and muscles twist and stretch as the change washed over him. ***** She couldn’t find him anywhere, and she didn’t know if she should be relieved or not. He could be lying somewhere in the brush, hurt and bleeding, or worse. The darkness impeded every step she made. Using the exterior shingled walls of the house to guide her, she worked her way around the back. “Alek,” she called out. “Alek.” She heard an odd noise near the back porch and turned in the direction of the sound. What she witnessed knocked the breath out of her and left her trembling. Knowing what he was and seeing it happen right before her eyes were two entirely different matters. She watched in shocked fascination as his body shifted from wolf to human. His muscles rippled and rolled as the thick golden fur receded, revealing nothing but smooth, supple flesh. The long muzzle shortened and disappeared, and the pointy ears

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flattened and re-formed, leaving the handsome chiseled features she recognized as those of the man she was beginning to know and love. She dropped to her knees beside his body and buried her face in her hands, letting the roller coaster of emotions she’d experienced over the last few hours carry her to a place she rarely allowed herself to go. There was nothing she hated more than feeling this helpless and out of control. A hand touched her thigh. “Brea,” he said. “I couldn’t find you… I thought you were… That they had…” Her words were a jumble of incomplete thoughts. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. ***** “Shh, Brea, I’m fine. I was just looking around to be sure none of them doubled back.” When she wrapped her arms around his trim, naked waist, her tremors felt more pronounced. “Let’s get into the house, honey. We both need to warm up.” He lifted her into his arms, walked around to the front door, and carried her into the living room where he placed her on the couch. She was a strong woman, but the events of the last twenty-four hours had finally taken their toll. He kissed her gently before asking, “Do we still have coffee left?” He didn’t think she heard him, but just as he was about to repeat his question, she nodded and answered, “Yes.” He stroked her hair and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving the room. His plans for the evening were shot to hell, that’s for sure, but somehow it didn’t matter, he told himself as he donned a pair of jeans and a plain white tee shirt. He sat down beside her and handed her a cup. Still shaking, she couldn’t seem to get a decent grip around the mug. Alek placed it in her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers to help her take her first sip. At her puzzled glance, he explained, “I took the liberty of adding a shot of whiskey. It’ll help warm you up.” She nodded her compliance and took another sip of the spiked coffee. Alek did the same. ***** Even after the whiskey started warming her, Brea still felt shivers running down her spine. She leaned closer and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. His arm curled around her and dragged her closer. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby.” Finding her voice, she said, “Scared doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. When I heard that shotgun blast…” She buried her face into his neck. The feel of his warm skin, the scent of him calmed her and made her feel safe. The tension left her body and in its place there settled a drowsiness she couldn’t fight. ***** Alek felt her body go limp and slump against him. She was down for the count and better for it. He removed the cup from her hand and carried her into her bedroom. After removing her shoes, he went to strip off her clothes and hesitated, deciding to keep temptation

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out of the equation. He gave a frustrated sigh. God knows he wanted her, and he didn’t think she’d push him away if he pursued the act, but it didn’t seem right. It wasn’t right. Taking advantage of her would show her he wasn’t any better than the assholes who’d just left. Before his dick convinced him otherwise, he tucked an afghan around her and turned out the lights. “What are you doing?” she said, still half asleep. Not sure how to answer, he pretended he didn’t hear her and closed the door behind him. What the hell was he doing? he wondered as he stepped onto the front porch and dropped his big body into the folding lawn chair sitting there. He struggled with the alien feelings Brea stirred in him. What made her different than the other women he’d bedded? Willing women had always been a bountiful commodity, there for the taking and leaving. The taking with Brea would have been an easy pleasure, it was the leaving part he wasn’t too sure about.

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Chapter Eight Alek’s blatant rejection came rushing back the moment she awoke. After reaching the only conclusion she could, that he’d changed his mind about getting involved with her, she’d fallen into a restless slumber that left her feeling like she hadn’t slept at all. And who could blame him for not wanting to hook up with the Witch of Shelby County? She’d always believed that things happened for a reason. Maybe Bubba showing up when he did had kept her from making an even bigger mess of her life. As she climbed out of bed, she wondered if Alek had left. Well wondering wasn’t telling. She was going to have to leave the bedroom sooner or later. Her bladder told her preferably sooner rather than later. She opened the door and scooted into the bathroom before she found out if he was still there or not. A hot shower gave her time to clear her mind. She decided to follow his lead. If he acted like it never nearly happened then so would she. ***** Alek had been up for several hours before he heard Brea stirring. He’d toyed with the idea of packing up and leaving, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do that. He wanted to face her. He needed to find out what it was that compelled him to stick around. He heard Brea’s footsteps on the plank floor as she headed into the bathroom. He grabbed the cup he’d laid out for her and filled it with coffee, hoping she’d rather drink it than throw it. He dropped the thick slices of bread in the toaster and waited with butter and knife. He’d already set out a variety of jams and preserves, all of which appeared to be homemade. The bread popped up just as Brea walked into the kitchen. His heart gave a lurch at the sight of her. She smelled like honeysuckle and sunshine and she looked at him like he was a clump of dirt on her clean linoleum. “Morning, Brea,” he said, handing her the cup of fresh-brewed coffee. “I didn’t expect to find you still here.” Alek frowned. “Why’s that?” “No reason for you to stick around,” she mumbled as she parked herself at the table and reached for the cream. “I see you fixed breakfast. Thank you.” “Don’t thank me, honey,” he drawled as he watched her cringe at his use of the endearment. Lordy, she was making this difficult. He charged forward. “This is your food

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and your house. I should be saying thanks to you.” He set the plate of buttered bread in the center of the butcher block and asked if there was anything else she wanted to drink. “Milk, I think.” “Milk, it is.” If she’d said goat’s piss he would have tracked down a goat and held the glass. When Brea started on her second piece of toast and he on his third, Alek asked, “What’s on your agenda today?” “I’ve got to run into town with the order for the Montague ladies and then pick up a couple of things at the grocery store.” Alek nodded. “Mind if I tag along? There’s something I need to take care of in town, as well.” “And what might that be? If you don’t mind my asking?” “It’s time for me to pay a little visit to Sheriff Hendrix.” Brea sat there for a few seconds with her toast suspended in midair. “Why?” “I ran a couple of plate numbers I got last night and one of them belongs to William Jackson Hendrix, Jr. Bubba, I assume?” Brea nodded. “Yep, that’s the idiot. You really got that information quick.” “I got connections,” was all the explanation he offered. “I printed a copy of the information for the sheriff to prove to him that Bubba was one of the good ol’ boys here last night.” She gave an unladylike snort. “As if he didn’t know already. Bill knows exactly when Bubba and the gang are heading out this way. All he’ll tell you is that having the plate number doesn’t prove a thing.” “Oh, I think he will after I have a little talk with him,” Alek told her. “I also spoke to Chester’s new boss this morning and he asked me to deliver a message to Hendrix from him.” “And that is?” “‘Don’t fuck with the law.’ Very simple and direct, don’t you think?” Alek almost didn’t catch the grin on Brea’s face but there it was coming right at him. “Does that smile mean you’d not still mad at me?” Ooops. Big mistake. The minute he said that he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. She tensed up and cast him a glance that could have frozen his balls in July. He’d fucked up again! Standing, Brea picked up her dishes and carried them to the sink. “Let’s get moving. I have a lot to do today. ***** “Are we there yet?” Alek asked, sounding like an impatient little boy traveling with his parents. “Almost. Just another half mile or so,” she replied. When they passed the city limits sign, Brea turned towards the small strip mall on the west side of town. All the way from her house she’d been doing some serious thinking, every so often casting a sly, sideward glance at an equally thoughtful Alek. His question had been the first words he’d spoken since they left her house, just as her reply had been her only utterance until she blurted, “I’m not mad at you.” “You’re not?” He sounded doubtful.

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“No,” she answered, braking and flipping the turn signal to make a left into the parking lot. What she really wanted to do was slam on the brakes, throw her body across the bench seat, tear off his clothes, and have hot, unbridled sex with him right then and there in broad daylight – shoppers be damned. Now wouldn’t that give the town busybodies grist for their gossip mill! She already had the tarnished rep, thanks to Bubba and his buddies. Might as well reap some of the benefits. And sex with Alek, anywhere, anytime, anyplace, anyway, was most definitely a bennie worth reaping. The vivid image of her wantonly riding Alek’s cock in the middle of the Springhill Mall parking lot was such an explicitly arousing one, it left her grinning and squirming in her seat. “I hope that smile’s from thinking what I’m thinking.” His voice was husky and suggestive. Sliding the truck into a parking slot, Brea set the brake and turned to him with a curious gaze. “That depends,” she said. “Just what exactly are you thinking, Alek?” He scooted closer, not enough to crowd her space, but near enough for her to feel the heat from body. “I’ll give you a clue,” he offered as he ran his knuckles down the curve of her cheek. Brea sighed and closed her eyes, letting his touch travel wherever he desired. Opening his hand, he cupped her face and drew her into a kiss so gentle and undemanding she thought she’d die from the need he sparked in her. He broke the kiss long before she was ready for it to end. “There’s still the matter of that unfinished business between us, Brea.” Brea ran two fingers down the placket of shirt buttons running from his tanned throat to trim waist. “Come hell or high water, Bounty, I’m holding you to that.” She pulled her keys from the ignition and hopped out of the truck before she acted on her earlier imaginings. Whew, the man could heat her up and turn her on quicker than she could say, “Taking care of business.” Alek caught up to her and adjusted his stride to that of hers, only dropping behind her when necessary as they made their way between the cars, trucks and vans crammed into the less than adequate parking lot. “I can’t wait for you to meet the Montague sisters,” Brea told him. “What are they like?” “Just wait. You’ll be amazed.” ***** He was amazed. The ladies were nothing like he imagined. Miss Agatha was at least eighty-five and Miss Charlotte wasn’t too far behind, but they were the spryest old ladies he’d ever seen. When he and Brea walked into their New Age General Store, both ladies dropped what they were doing and rushed to greet Brea, pulling her into an exuberant three-way hug. Their simultaneous “My Cherie” could have been heard from one end of the strip mall to the other. He loved these ladies already--their obvious devotion to Brea guaranteed a place high on his “idol” list. When they turned towards him, he met their stares evenly. Miss Charlotte gazed at him for a moment and said to Brea, “Oh, Cherie, he’s a hunk with a great aura but an old soul. Introduce us, dear.”

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Before he knew it both ladies were shaking his hand and welcoming him with a kiss on each cheek like a pair of sweet powdered bookends. Agatha wore an ankle length black dress with a delicate ivory lace collar and cuffs. Her salt and pepper hair was in an intricate up-do that seemed to defy gravity with a single white flower tucked into the curls. Charlotte was a little more flamboyant, wearing a shorter deep cherry red dress that flowed around her tiny body and matched her lipstick. Her dark brown hair was also piled high on her head, but in a more youthful style. Where Agatha had been conservative with one flower, Charlotte had at least six or seven blossoms. He felt right at home. There was no other way to describe the welcome he received. Miss Agatha motioned for him and he obediently followed her into the back room where she gestured to a large box. “Young man, would you mind putting this in Brea’s truck?” “No, ma’am,” he said. “Don’t mind at all.” He was surprised by how light it was considering its size. “And bring back the two boxes I prepared for the store, okay?” Brea asked. Alek answered with an obliging, “Yes, ma’am.” He was only gone a few minutes and, when he came back, the three of them were deep in conversation about someone named Phil. “Come on over, Alek,” Agatha said. “We were just talking about Charlotte’s new beau.” “And a mighty fine man he is,” Charlotte remarked, “But not quite so young and fine as you.” Alek almost broke out laughing when she fluttered her eyelashes at him. These ladies were true southern belles. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, cocking his eyebrow at Brea. “And what do you, fair lady, think?” “Well, I don’t know. Let me get back to you on that.” Brea made a face at him that caught him by surprise but thrilled him at the same time. She was pulling a Miss Charlotte and flirting with him. “Oh, Brea, talking about men, and another good looking one at that… We had a gentleman come into the store first thing this morning asking if we’d heard about any strangers in town, blond ones in particular,” Miss Agatha said. “Of course, we’d heard about your houseguest from Clara who heard it from Virgie who heard it from Betty Lou who got it straight from the sheriff, but not ones to pay any mind to gossip, we kept our mouths shut.” “What did he look like?” Charlotte chose to speak this time. “He was a good looking man with black hair and almost black eyes. He had a mustache and a goatee. He said his name was Al Holder.” “Yes, that’s what it was, Holder,” Miss Agatha concurred. “He talked to Charlotte first. Then the next thing I knew she came and told me that she didn’t like that man.” “His aura was black as coal, and his eyes were soulless pits.” Alek could see how disturbed Miss Charlotte was by the way she wrung her frail hands. Brea turned to Alek. “I don’t know anyone by that description, do you?” “No, can’t think of anyone. Did he say anything else?” “I told him that I knew a few blond-headed men, but none were strangers. With a hard thank you he left the store,” Agatha added.

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“That should have been the end of it, but wouldn’t you know who was nosing around outside the shop,” Charlotte whispered. “Nobody but Myrtle Crepewell.” “The town’s worst busybody,” Miss Agatha added off side to Alek. “She stopped Mr. Holder and bent his ear for several minutes before he disappeared across the street.” “Hmm,” Brea muttered. “If he comes back by, would you give us a call?” Both of the ladies replied simultaneously, “Of course, dear, we’ll be happy to.” They kissed Brea and Alek’s cheeks and walked them to the exit where they exchanged hugs again. “Drop me off at the sheriff’s office,” Alek told her as they climbed into her truck. “I’ll deal with him while you do your grocery shopping.” “But I want to go with you,” Brea told him. “I know, honey, but this’ll go a lot quicker if you’re not there. We’re just going to talk a few things over and, when we’re through, I’ll give him his message. Then we can go home.” “Well, okay if you’re sure that’s what you want.” “I am,” Alek stated adamantly. More sure than he’d ever been about anything in his life.

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Chapter Nine It hadn’t taken Brea but thirty minutes to get the groceries she needed. It obviously didn’t take very long for Alek to complete his task either. By the time she got back to the sheriff’s office Alek was already waiting at the curb. On the way back to her place the only conversation they had was about his chat with Sheriff Hendrix. Alek was in rare form, Brea noted, as he related how Hendrix spit and sputtered one minute and tried to gain the upper hand with idle threats the next. Once Alek delivered the message from Chester’s new boss, the sheriff had shut his mouth. Alek left him sitting behind his desk wearing an expression he could only describe as a fat green toad that just swallowed a live hornet. Brea was still laughing when she pulled her truck into the driveway. Alek got out and collected the box from the truck bed. He shook it once and said, “Are you sure anything’s in here, it’s awfully light.” “It’s just a couple of seedling plants and in some cases just the leaves from the plants, so it’s not going to weigh very much.” She unlocked the backdoor and swung the plastic sacks of groceries to the table. Alek stood in the middle of the room and asked, “Where do you want this?” “Put it on the hutch over there.” She motioned to the cabinet in the corner. “I’ll go through it in a while.” Brea opened the refrigerator and put the milk on a shelf and the butter and cheese in the drawer. “You hungry? You want a sandwich or something?” “Not right now. Let’s get everything put away. We need to talk.” She was surprised at his request and wondered what he wanted to talk to her about. After stowing the box for her, Alek went into the living room. Brea put her jacket and purse away and made a quick potty stop before she joined him. Alek’s printer was going when she got there. “What’s that?” she asked. Alek looked up from his computer and told her, “Beatrice was able to get a composite sketch of the third robber. Take a look at this.” He turned the laptop towards her. “That’s the man Agatha and Charlotte described!” she gasped. The ladies couldn’t have given a better description if they’d taken a picture. It had to be the same man and, Brea had to admit, he was sort of good looking in a dark, smarmy kind of way. “What does this mean?” she asked Alek as she continued staring at the sketch. “It means the third man was here in town and looking for me.”

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“That’s why you wanted to get back to the house so quickly, wasn’t it?” “Yeah. I had a feeling that I was the one he was looking for. And now I know why.” “Sounds too easy to me,” said Brea. “Why would he come looking for you? If I had robbed all the places you said he did without getting caught by the law, I would get as far away from here as possible.” The whole thing sounded incredibly stupid to her. “You said yourself that Darrell came back to this area because he grew up around here. What’s this guy’s connection to this neck of the woods?” “Good point,” Alek conceded. “Maybe Darrell hid some of their cache in these parts and this Al Holder is looking for it. Could be what Darrell was doing in the woods when I caught up to him.” Brea stepped out on the porch. “He won’t be heading into the woods any time soon.” Alek followed her as far as the door and asked through the screen, “What makes you so sure of that?” “Because we’re in for one heck of a gully washer in about another hour. That road out there is going to turn into a mud river by morning.” His deep, rumbling laughter caught her unaware and the next thing she knew she was laughing right along with him. When they finally caught their breath, Alek walked out on the porch and put his arm around her. “I haven’t ever heard it put quite that way before. That’s real interesting and all, but I still don’t understand how in the hell you know it’s going to rain.” “You have to know the signs,” she told him, pointing to a nearby tree. “See how the leaves are turned upside down. They’re getting ready to collect the rain.” She fanned her hand and rubbed her thumb over her fingertips. “I can feel the humidity in the air. It’s heavy with moisture.” She drew a deep breath. “I can smell it.” “Damn, you’re better than the weather channel.” “I don’t know about that but I do get enough warning to prepare for the onslaught.” She cuddled into his arms, feeling safe and content. It had been an unusual but wonderful day. She could tell that Alek had loved the Misses Montague just as much as she did. Alek turned her towards the door. “I think we’re supposed to be having a conversation.” “In case you hadn’t noticed, we are.” Couldn’t he tell? Or did he mean something else? He led her into the house, locking the door behind them. When they reached the couch, he said, “I meant what I said about unfinished business, Brea.” He pulled her into his arms and whispered, “I want you, Brea. I need you.” That’s all it took. One moment it was a platonic embrace and the next they were at each other like they were starving. His kisses were deeper and hotter than the night before and his body radiated heat through his clothes. He started tugging at her shirt. She pulled his from his pants and tore at the buttons before stripping it off his shoulders. All the time they shrugged out of their clothes his tongue delved deeper. Brea couldn’t believe how much she wanted this man. White-hot desire raged through her. Clutching a thick handful of his hair, her fingers twisted in the strands and pulled him closer as she stepped out of her jeans and panties. She kicked them aside and rubbed herself

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against his bare chest. His fingers closed around her breast, his thumb finding the hardening peak. He rolled the nipple between his fingers and she felt her world spiral out of control. Naked. She wanted him naked, too. She loosened his belt and tugged at the zipper. The brass button was too large for the buttonhole, or so it seemed, as she struggled to pop it through the little hole. “Help me, damn it,” she sputtered. She heard him chuckle as he reached between them. With a quick flip of the wrist, he had it loose and the waistband flapped apart, leaving just the tip of his penis exposed above the open zipper. She ran her thumb across the fleshy head. Drawing a sucking breath between his teeth, he swept her off her feet. She clung to him, finding simple pleasure and comfort in his strong, capable arms as he carried her to the bedroom. Alek laid her across the bed, releasing her with a gentle bounce, then he peeled off and stepped out of his pants. The quilted cloth felt cool and smooth against her fevered flesh. He towered over her, ravaging her with nothing but his eyes. Brea quivered with awareness. The elemental scent of his maleness flooded every sense as he reached for her. He bent down, hands spanning her hips, his thumbs resting in the creased juncture where pubic mound joined thighs. Drawing his hands down the smooth expanse of her naked thighs, Alek gripped her by the knees and pulled her toward him, leaving her ass hovering near the edge. When he positioned her feet beside her hips so that her knees bracketed his body, she nearly lost it, realizing what he was about to do. Her belly contracted as he used open mouth kisses and a languid tongue to tease and torment her body. Everywhere his lips landed, something inside her screamed with passion and desire. When she thought she would surely lose her mind, his hand found her swollen clit. He rubbed it again and again with his thumb while stroking her heat and wetness with his fingers. First one, then two and finally three pushed inside her, bringing with it the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. “Fuck me,” she heard herself scream. “I will, darlin’,” he drawled. “Hang on to me, I’ve got you.” Alek’s breathing was as heavy and erratic as her own. She couldn’t lie still so she did what he said and hung on, trusting him to take her with him. When he pulled his hand away, she tossed her head. “No, no, don’t stop.” The next thing she felt was Alek’s breath washing over her, brushing her inner thigh as he parted her outer labia, and his tongue began a dance across her clit that took her breath away. Screaming and moaning, Brea began to thrust her hips forward when he buried his tongue completely in her wetness. She couldn’t go any higher, or at least she thought she couldn’t. She was wrong. Alek pulled back and began a slow journey up her hips, and belly, and breasts, to finally reach her mouth again. She smelled and tasted herself as he kissed her, and the tension spiraled higher. He rose up between her legs and wrapped them around himself. “Come for me, baby,” Alek growled as he eased the tip of his cock into her. Brea lifted her head to watch their bodies join. He thrust gently, easing himself into her back and forth, going a little deeper each time. The pressure was intense but so was the pleasure. *****

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He seated himself more deeply with each forward stroke. She was tight, almost virginal, and he took concentrated care not to hurt her. Her wetness made the going easier, but the slowness at which he entered her was excruciating. He was ready to explode. Glancing down, watching her body receive him only made it all the more difficult to hold back. The passion in her softened gaze and the beauty of her body held him in check. He closed his eyes and tossed back his head, allowing the remainder of his senses to bring him the unspeakable pleasure he experienced. He wanted to give her the best fuck she ever had. When he felt himself settle completely within her, he moved gently the first few strokes then with increasing power and tempo. He watched Brea’s face to be sure he wasn’t hurting her. If the head tossing, the moaning, and the thrusting she was doing was any indication, he’d say she was enjoying it as much as he was. She was close. He could sense the urgency in the restless way she moved beneath him. Leaning over he began to suckle one taut nipple and then the other. Brea grabbed his shoulders and began to thrust rapidly. “Let go, baby, come for me,” he said urging her on. He took her around the waist and brought her hips to his faster and faster. Her wetness sucked at his cock with each backward move of his hips. He could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer. Locking her legs around his waist, she arched and tightened, and he thrust harder and deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he breathed. He leaned into her and took her mouth, using his tongue to stroke in and out in the same manner and tempo as he thrust in and out of her pulsing pussy. She came apart in his arms and screamed out her orgasm. He buried himself in her as deeply as he could go and felt himself reach his own climax. Gasping to find a steady breath, he lowered his body next to hers. He raised his head just enough to kiss Brea on her damp temple and said, “The best, Brea. That was the best ever.” He curled her into his arms and fell asleep.

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Chapter Ten Brea stepped out of the truck and onto the muddy earth. She’d parked nearly in the same spot she had a few days earlier when all this had begun. It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was warm, the sky was an exquisite blue, and the grass still sparkled like diamonds from the previous night’s downpour. She knew it had rained, and hard, just as she’d predicted, but she had been so gloriously occupied she didn’t remember much else about it. All she remembered was Alek’s masterful kisses, his hands gathering her to him, his fingers delving into her, and the rapture of having him inside her. She was a most satisfied woman. She’d awakened invigorated and ready to greet the world even though she’d had very little sleep. Alek was still in bed and she couldn’t make herself wake him. He needed his rest. He deserved it. She left him a note telling him where she was going and that she’d be back in a couple of hours. With a lift to her step she entered the woods and followed the overgrown trail. A basket hung from her fingers, ready to accept whatever plants she found. Humming a mindless tune as she strolled, she had to stop and laugh at the ridiculous thought that came to her. The tune certainly wasn’t I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. She’d had so much satisfaction she was brimming over with it. When she came to the wider spot in the trail where she’d found Alek, she stepped off the path and began to search through the underbrush. Spotting what she wanted, she withdrew a pair of utility shears from her pocket and dropped to her knees to clip the leaves from the plant. Still humming, her mind wandered to the night before. It had been amazing. She knew that if Alek left now she would miss him the rest of her life. It wasn’t an easy idea to accept but one she had to face. He’d opened up a whole new world for her and there was no way she could return to being the mild-mannered recluse she had been before. Alek had taught her to spread her wings and showed her how to fly. That was something she’d never forget. Brea suddenly stood straight up as if jerked erect, a niggling sensation came from out of nowhere and crawled between her shoulder blades as the short hairs at the back of her neck began to rise. She was being watched. A hand gripped her shoulder just as the sun fell behind a thick bank of dark clouds. A bitter coldness the likes of which she’d never felt before pierced through her like a knife. She twisted and swung her basket hard, hoping to dislodge whoever had hold of her.

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The same hand came down hard against her jaw, snapping her head around and knocking her to the ground. The basket sailed one way as the shears flew another. Stunned from the blow, Brea shook the hair from her eyes and looked up at her attacker. She froze when she recognized the face. The black hair, the black eyes, the goatee -Al Holder. “What do you want?” she said, struggling to free herself as he yanked her to her feet. “Stand still or I’ll slap you again.” His eyes were filled with splintered shadows that slithered like snakes. She trembled hard and uncontrollable, and her reaction brought a thinlipped smile to his face. “I asked what you wanted. Answer me.” “I think you know what I want,” he said with a husky hiss. “I came looking for Alekandar but you will do for now. Did you enjoy your night with him fucking your brains out?” A chill ran up Brea’s spine and she swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat. The thought of this man anywhere near her house, watching her and Alek making love, left her physically ill. She fought the urge to retch, believing that was the reaction he expected. She swept the ground with a passing glance, hoping to find anything she might use as a weapon against this maniac. Eyeing a portion of the utility shear’s red handle peeking out from under a clump of wet leaves, Brea tried to form a plan to retrieve them. She wouldn’t think twice about plunging them into his chest if given the opportunity. Her heart sank as she watched him bend down and pick up the shears. He rolled them over in his hand, touching the points of the blades with his fingertip as he examined them. “Did you really think you could harm me with these?” He turned his hand over and let them fall. They shattered into slivered pieces as if made of glass. He touched her face. “I believe I’ll have a taste of what Alekandar had last night.” ***** Alek was jerked from a sound sleep, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached across the bed and discovered it cold and empty. He shook his head to clear away the last remnants of sleep and vaguely remembered her trying to get out of bed earlier. When he tried to pull her back, she told him that she really, really had to go. He had released her with a reluctant grunt and burrowed under the covers where he’d obviously succumbed to sleep once again. The house was quiet. Too quiet, he decided as he slipped into his jeans and walked from the bedroom into the living room. No sign of her there. In the kitchen he found hot coffee and a note on the table that stated: It’s a glorious day. Have gone back to the woods for a few plants I need. Will be back in a couple of hours. Love, Brea. The woods! Didn’t she realize that she could be in danger? Of course not, he realized. Brea hadn’t been thinking about Al Holder or anything else except enjoying the day and going about her normal activities. He sniffed the air, and felt his hackles rise. It was there in the air--Brea was in trouble. A snap decision had him grabbing his keys and running for the Jeep. He took the narrow roads at sixty miles an hour, only slowing when he came to a crossroads or passed a house. When he spotted Brea’s truck sitting at the base of the trail, he plowed in beside it and cut the engine. He stripped off his jeans, and changed so fast it left him disoriented. He knew

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he would suffer for it later but he couldn’t afford the luxury of changing at his usual slower pace. He sniffed the ground near Brea’s truck. He picked up her scent and followed it into the woods. Hang on, Brea. Hang on. I’m coming for you. ***** Al Holder held Brea in an iron grip. She couldn’t shake him loose. Fear settled into her limbs and muscles, leaving her barely able to stand. “Why are you after Alek?” “He has something I want,” he said with an evil smirk. “What are you talking about?” “Why should I tell you?” he said, and then answered his own question with a nonchalant shrug. “What the heck, why not? It’s not as though you’re going to live long enough to tell him.” Brea pushed at Holder as hard as she could but he held her tight. “All right, if you insist,” he laughed without humor. “I want his amulet.” “The amulet?” Brea repeated. “What do you know about it?” She needed to keep him talking. “I know everything about it,” he answered smugly. “And I want it.” He grabbed her hair and jerked downward. She landed on her back in the muddy wet grass. Dropping down beside her, he threw his leg over her and straddled her hips, catching her hands and anchoring them over her head. He leaned closer as though to kiss her, and Brea quickly turned away. His beard scraped across her cheek and she felt revulsion like none she’d ever felt before. “Take me back to my house. I’ll get the amulet for you,” Brea bargained. Holder pulled back and stared at her, as if considering her offer. “It might be worth it just to see Alekandar’s reaction to your betrayal,” he muttered under his breath. Brea felt his grip loosen enough for her to twist one arm free. She scooped up a fistful of mud and flung it in his face. Holder let out a piercing howl as he attempted to wipe the mud from his eyes. “Fucking bitch,” he spat, groping blindly for her. Brea took advantage of his impairment and gave a mighty shove to push him off. Scrambling to her feet, she kicked him and beat him with closed fists. He caught her by a wrist and twisted it so hard she cried out from the shooting pain. From out of the corner of her eye, Brea saw a streak of golden fur come out of nowhere and fly through the air, landing on Holder’s back with a deep throated growl. Knocking him to the ground, he sunk his fangs into the man’s neck. “Let him go, son,” a voice commanded from behind her. She spun around and found the man from Alek’s description. He was dressed much like the men on the Viking websites they’d searched. He pulled her aside and stepped forward, placing an open palm on the wolf’s head. “Heed me, Alekandar.” The wolf slowly released his feral grip on Holder’s neck and took a tentative step back. With a low snarl, he trotted to Brea’s side and leaned against her, nudging her hand and giving it a lick. Brea dug her fingers into his soft pelt and turned her attention to his father, who was now hoisting Al Holder to his feet.

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“Alaric, you try my patience.” He shook the man by his collar and released him. Holder stumbled as he landed then straightened, facing the big man with renewed defiance. “You shouldn’t have interfered, Uncle.” “Your chances lessen even as we speak, Alaric.” “You know nothing,” Holder spat. “I grow stronger with each confrontation. In the name of Holdar and Hel, I will find a way to destroy your family before I am finished.” He raised his arms over his head and vanished in a pillar of fire and smoke. Brea’s legs gave out from under her and she landed in a pile of wet leaves and muddy grass with a squish and a smack. People didn’t just disappear into thin air, not around these parts, anyway. “Alekandar, I need you to change. We need to talk.” The wolf looked at Brea and she reached for him. “It’s okay, Alek, I’m not going anywhere.” She watched him lie down and begin his metamorphosis. Soon he was Alek the man again, the man she loved. ***** “Alekandar,” the big man said, a broadsword still clutched in his beefy right hand. Seeing the man, hearing his voice, brought it all rushing back. Alek remembered. “Father,” he breathed. He seized Aerik and pulled him into a bear hug. “Father,” he said again, his voice trembling with untold emotion. “You’re the one who cut off Darrell Evan’s head, aren’t you?” Brea spoke up. He released his son and nodded. “Aye. I apologize if my act caused you distress, but I had to protect Alekandar.” “How did you find me?” Alek questioned. Aerik tapped the amulet lying on Alek’s bare chest. “I was told by the Allfather on the night you were taken away that the stones would lead me to each of you.” “Then you’ve found the others?” Alek was overjoyed. Aerik shook his head. “Nay,” he said sadly. “I have found only Erik, thus far. He lives on a settlement with horses in a place called San Antonio.” “Texas?” “Aye. Do you know of this place?” “That I do. My home is also in Texas.” “You do not live here, with the woman?” “No,” he answered. But if he had anything to say about it, the woman would be living with him. Somewhere. He wasn’t about to let her go. “And Mother?” His father looked as if a dagger had just been plunged into his heart. Alek knew before Aerik told him, “Son, your Mother was killed the night the Swans took you away. Your safety was her only concern. She lives in Valhalla with her sisters.” “Who would do such a thing to the wife of Aerik?” “Holdar and Alaric. They seek the stones for themselves.” “That’s what he told me,” Brea piped up. “He said he wanted Alek’s amulet.” Aerik nodded. “The same with Erik. He seeks each of my sons for the stones they wear. Give me yours, Alekandar. Without it you will be free to live your life without further threats from Alaric and his father.”

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Alek hesitated. The amulet was the only link he had to his past, but he had never disobeyed his father before. He wasn’t about to start now. Stripping the necklace from around his neck, he handed it to Aerik. “We will be together again. I give you my solemn vow.” Aerik grabbed Alek in another fierce hug. Releasing his son, he turned to Brea. “Would you give an old man a hug?” he asked. “Of course,” Brea said, moving into his open arms. Warmth and a feeling of security came over her as she stood on tiptoes to kiss the big man on the cheek. “Be safe, Aerik, father of Alekandar.” Aerik turned once more to Alek. “You know, son, this woman will bear many fine sons for you. You’d best get busy.” On that note, he was gone. A rumbling laugh was all that echoed in his wake. ***** “What did he say?” Brea gasped, turning on him. She found him stunned and speechless, and still very, very naked. Brea looked him up and down. His cock twitched at her and started to rise. “Don’t get any ideas, Alek Eriksson. I’ve had enough of rolling my ass in the mud for one day.” Taking his hand Brea started walking towards her truck. “Let’s get you home. There’s something I need to take care of.” “What’s that?” he questioned. “For starters, that erection you’re sporting. And then I’m going to feed you. And when that’s done we have the little matter of deciding where we’re going to live.” His eyes found hers. “Now that’s a plan if I ever heard one.”

Jenna Marshall

The Viking Stones

Heart of the Bear By

Erika Kire

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Chapter One Edinburgh, Scotland Present Day “Excuse me, sir? Are there any tours to Inchcolm Island today?” Territory—or Teri as her friends called her—stood before the high counter and pursed her lips. Her hands were hidden in the green sleeves of her favorite sweater, her wavy blonde hair wind-blown from the North Sea. The robust man squinted at her, his face fleshy and red, his small gray eyes watery. Teri quickly looked away once she noticed his lazy eye. “No, young miss. Weather won’t permit, and I’m afraid you’re tae late as it is,” he said, scratching his chest beneath his suspenders. “Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow is another day, isn’t it, lass?” he said before he turned his back on her and sat at a computer that looked as old as he did. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the little stone building and dragged herself toward her waiting Renault Megane. She had been lost from the moment she set foot on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. The map was useless. She had no sense of direction, and couldn’t tell one shop from another.” She could almost hear her father’s voice, telling her to quit, “yapping on her goddamn cell phone” so she would know where she was going. Earlier in the day she had reached a section of the road that had proven impossible to traverse. Forced to abandon her car, she walked downhill and wandered until she forgot where her car was—other than near a pub. Or was it a tavern? She couldn’t ask any of the locals because she couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying. This trip was supposed to be an adventure. Now her rental car was lost in the unknowns of Scotland. Not even a Tennent’s Lager—which was revolting—made Territory feel as though she belonged. But she was here, and in the Hail Family one did not bow out or roll belly-up to admit defeat. Hails trudged through no matter how much they preferred kicking and screaming. Besides, there was nothing she could do. She was stuck in Scotland for another ten days. “Stuck,” she mused. She was the only person in the world who would consider a twoweek trip paid in full by her parents a bleak and dreadful situation. Territory sat in her recovered rental car and stared through the windshield at the island and castle slowly disappearing in the dusk. The little fishing boats she saw when she entered

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the office building were now gone. The pudgy man behind the counter was locking up for the night, pausing long enough to sneer at her before he got into his vehicle and drove away. Digging into her bag, she grabbed her father’s digital camera—the one he had handed her with trepidation—and headed toward the wooden pier. The planks were already wet from the incoming tide, and Territory treaded lightly, squinting in the dim light. Cars sped across the Forth Road Bridge above her head, and a train approaching the nearby rail bridge, the Forth Rail Bridge, cleverly enough, sounded its horn, startling her as she turned on her camera. For being so far away from the rest of civilization it wasn’t quite a serene setting. At least she could tell her folks that she had made it to Inchcolm, the place where her father had proposed to her mother some thirty years ago. While she navigated her way to the end of the pier she concocted her story. Traffic in Edinburgh had been bad, she had run to get a ticket on the boat and had accidentally forgotten her camera. The only picture she could take was from the pier at dusk. From where she stood, it was indistinguishable from the rest of the Fife coast. There was no need to mention the blue-eyed bartender who had invited her to his flat after his shift that evening. Or the cute man, a few years older than she typically looked at, who had asked her to dinner. That was the good thing about being a tourist. Batting her eyes and scrunching her nose worked wonders for meeting handsome local men. They commented on her “charming” accent and offered to show her around their city. The twinkles in their eyes told her that their plans included showing her their bedroom ceilings. Unfortunately, every guy she met would end up as nothing more than a fling, and with college behind her, Teri was ready to grow up and join the world. As soon as she returned to Middle America, that is. What was the point of having a two-week trip, all expenses paid, and a credit card at her disposal if she couldn’t have a few flings? Nothing bad, of course, but if this was to be her only trip to Scotland while she was still in her twenties, then she may as well make it memorable. It was what her grandmother would have wanted, and Grandmother Clara was the reason she had crossed the Atlantic. Well, that and her eccentric parents’ wishes for her to become a little more cultured. That was supposed to help her find a better husband. Teri walked so far out on the pier that she felt the seawater lapping against her shoes and socks. Her nose began to run. Cursing under her breath, she decided that this was a mistake. She was staying in Edinburgh for another day, and if it was absolutely necessary to photograph this island, she would do it in the morning before she went on another tour. She pressed the wrong button and sent a blinding camera flash into her own eyes. “Damn it!” she muttered. Territory turned, and as a wave crashed over the pier she lost her balance. The darkness disoriented her, the lights on the bridges offering only a glimpse of her surroundings. A second wave struck the pier, causing her to drop the camera. Cursing again, she frantically searched for it, hoping that it would still work. With a mouth full of saltwater, Territory struggled in the dark. Her eyes stung and her fingers grew numb. She choked as another wave knocked her onto her back.

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The pier disappeared beneath her, and before she was able to gather her wits, she was floating, sinking--somersaulting through the inky waters. Her hands grasped for something, anything, but all she found was seaweed. With her last breath she screamed, hoping her voice had strength enough to be heard above the turbulent waves and traffic on the bridge. She prayed that someone would hear her in the darkness that overwhelmed her, and swallowed her whole. ***** Birgir rubbed his hands together, savoring the salty air. He had been born on a frigid night, his mother had constantly told him, and the air in his lungs was always meant to stay cold. She said it was because his heart was made of fire. It kept him balanced. His father would say that with such a hard head, nothing would keep his most stubborn son properly balanced. That was how Birgir remembered his parents, loving and firm, as hard as the rocks on which he stood and as peaceful as the sound of the ocean. He had no other recollection of them. “Peace be wi’ ye,” Birgir murmured as he turned to secure his boat. He caressed his hammer-shaped amulet and wanly smiled as he glanced back at the smooth shoreline. “And the Aesir as well.” Another backbreaking day of moving the furniture he had built left Birgir weary, his dark blonde hair tangled and refusing to stay pulled back in a ponytail. His hands hurt from the cold, and he couldn’t wait to build a fire and read for the evening. His nights were filled with dark tales of embattled giants and gods, selfish dwarves and foolish mortals. Among the craggy rocks protruding from Mortimer’s Deep, Birgir had constructed his secluded stone house. A hermit’s paradise, he had mused, built with his own blood and sweat. As he gathered his rope and moored the vessel, Birgir wished he’d taken his bartending friend Craig up on his offer and had stayed in Edinburgh. With the sea becoming rougher and the days much shorter, he wouldn’t go to town often. One last night of drinking and seducing women would have been a world better than sitting alone. “Sometimes ye look as though ye emerged from the dark ages, Bir,” Craig told him before he left the tavern and returned to the pier. Craig enjoyed calling him Bir simply because Birgir threatened to punch him if he continued calling him stout, lager or ale. Most of the locals called him Bir, or Red Beard when his goatee grew out and his dark blonde facial hair was threaded with copper. While Birgir nursed a whisky and ignored him, Craig finished wiping down mugs and set them on the counter. “It’s not going to kill you if you stay away from the sea for a few days. You’d be surprised at how much better looking women are than puffins and seals.” Another sullen glare. By now, Craig would have usually given and left to ask the pretty girls if they needed anything else, but tonight—being a Friday—he felt the need to get his friend laid. “The words ‘brooding artist’ are so seventies.” Craig paused, waiting for Birgir to reply. “Christ, man. The 1970s? You remember those, right? Forget it. Girls dig the aloof, moody artist once in a while, which you have doon to a science. Honestly, ye need more than that. Stay here tonight and we’ll have some fun. Come on, it’s been ages since ye and I have done anything.”

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“I’ll think aboot it,” Birgir replied, tipping Craig better than usual before he walked out of the pub and nearly clipped some girl with her nose in a map. Craig was right. Birgir smiled wryly and decided that tomorrow he would stay in town. He knew Craig would offer up his flat as long as that out-of-towner he was ogling wasn’t in his bed. Shaking his head, Birgir turned and saw what appeared to be a seal disappear into the dark water from the corner of his eye. He turned to see if he could find the animal again, but it was gone. “Ah, well,” he said to himself. “Bet ye weren’t good-looking anyhow.” He looked back at his boat one last time and saw a flash from the shoreline. At first he passed it off as lightning, but lightning never screamed.

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Chapter Two It felt like being stabbed to death with little, tiny needles. Each time Territory’s face broke the frigid water’s surface, she gasped for breath, spitting and sputtering the saltwater from her mouth. She vainly attempted to hold onto the camera as she struggled to find the pier, the rocks, the shoreline, anything at all. Periods of submersion grew longer, her chances for another breath denied as the icy waves pushed her further and further from the shore. Suddenly she collided with something, her numb fingers clawing, desperately clinging to her only chance to survive. Locks of hair lashed across her face, her eyes blinded by saltwater and seaweed. She gagged, attempting to crawl up as the waves beat against her. Upon forcing her eyes open she realized there was no place to go. Her breath created steam in the chilly October night, and as she gasped she saw the lights in the distance. Her mind refused to work, but somehow she knew that she couldn’t survive much longer submerged up to her neck in freezing water. And then suddenly she heard a voice calling out, riding the waves that threatened her life. Territory screamed back, her words emerging so hoarse she could barely hear herself. A dark, shapeless form crashed through the waves several yards away. A boat, Territory realized, a small boat with a man standing at the helm, the raging winds whipping his blonde hair. “Let go o’ the rook,” he shouted over the hum of the motor. Territory had no choice. Her hands were raw and numb. With one last gulp of air, she did her best to fling herself into the ocean, hoping she would find the surface again. ***** She disappeared. Birgir counted the seconds, a rope in one stiff, painful hand and a dying flashlight in the other. Five seconds. He had hoped to toss her a line and haul her to safety once she let go of the rocks, but the moment she chose to abandon her perch the sea swallowed her down in one ravenous gulp. Fifteen seconds. “Come oon,” Birgir whispered, balancing on the helm of his little boat that was anchored dangerously near the rocks. “Don’t ye dare drown oon ma!”

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It was impossible to find her—whoever this woman was who had fallen into the water. At night the North Sea became a behemoth’s gaping black mouth, the rocks jutting from the surface like rotting fangs. There was nothing Birgir could do but wait and hope that he could snatch her from the water. Twenty-five seconds. Birgir shook the flashlight, increasing the light for a few meager seconds. He did it again and searched the water, attempting to find the nameless woman. Just before the beam dimmed, he caught a glimpse of something pale in the darkness. It was her outstretched hand bobbing along the surface. The waves pushed her motionless body up, catapulting her toward his watercraft. Birgir leaned over the edge and dipped his arm elbow-deep into the sea. His arm trembled as he steadied himself in the boat. His fingers closed around fabric and tugged, pulling her head and shoulders from the water. “I’ve got ye,” he said. There was no response as Birgir knelt in his boat and grabbed her under the arms, dragging her in beside him. The waves tossed them about, but the sturdy little vessel bobbed and refused to be taken by Aegir, the god of the sea. “Can ye hear ma?” Birgir frantically asked as he tapped the woman’s cheeks. Her eyes rolled open and she groaned, her teeth chattering so violently that she couldn’t answer. Birgir couldn’t make out her coloring in the dark, but he could see that her pupils were dilated. She was shivering in waves—a dismal sign of her health—and he knew he needed to get her warm and dry fast before she succumbed to hypothermia. She clutched his wrist, her hold so strong that it startled him. Wide-eyed in the darkness, she stared into his face, silently pleading for his help. “Hold oon,” he said under his breath as he covered her in his bearskin cloak and steered the boat toward his home, knowing she would be dead before he reached Edinburgh. ***** Birgir tossed the woman over his shoulder and hauled her, soaking wet to the bone, into his stone façade house and asked her if she could stand. She didn’t need to answer, as by the firelight he noted her pallid skin. Her shivering ceased as her body began to shut down. Laying her on the floor, Birgir knelt over her and removed her shoes and socks. “Listen, love, you’re going tae freeze tae death in these wet clothes.” Curled up into the fetal position, she nodded and exhaled a barely discernable groan. “I’m no’ going tae hurt ye, but I need to get ye oot of your wet clothes before ye freeze tae death,” he said, flexing his hands to increase his own blood flow before he began unbuttoning her jeans. She was teetering, he knew, between consciousness and sure death, but her eyes remained fixed on him. He wasn’t certain if she could comprehend what was happening—and truthfully Birgir didn’t know what was happening either—but he couldn’t wait for her permission if she was to live. Once the woman was stripped of her wet clothes, Birgir wrapped her body in a blanket. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to his bed. If the sea hadn’t been so turbulent he could have taken her to Edinburgh, but with no phone in his home or on the pier and town being fifteen minutes away, he had done all he could think to do.

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He left her for a moment to gather towels and add more wood and a few peat pellets to the fire, all the while keeping an eye on her as he maneuvered through the crowded studio, scooting chairs back into place and stepping over piles of books and half-finished canvases. “Stay awake for ma, love,” he said. The woman groaned again and Birgir returned to her side, rubbing water from her long hair. Her lips were still blue, her face colorless. He could tell she wasn’t warming fast enough. She would need more than just a blanket to raise her temperature. With a deep breath, Birgir unbuttoned his shirt and set it aside. He drew back the blanket, lay down beside her and placed one arm beneath her body. He drew her closer, shivering as her chilled body settled against his warm flesh. Her eyes flickered open one last time as Birgir set his free hand against her cheek. “Ye can’t leave ma,” he murmured, brushing his fingers down to her jaw. “Not without first giving ma your name.”

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Chapter Three Warmth pulsed into Territory. It felt as though sunlight filled her belly and covered her back, a tide of contentment rolling over the bitter cold escaping through her fingertips, her toes and the ends of her hair. Slowly waking, she became aware of energy tickling her insides. It reassured her that she was safe, that the dark water and the jagged rocks were gone. Her muscles relaxed and her legs slowly stretched from being tightly curled in the fetal position. One by one, her senses became increasingly acute. Wood smoke stung her nose and the back of her throat, followed by the scent of peat, which she wasn’t yet accustomed to. She swallowed and slowly opened her eyes, which quickly adjusted to the low light. The gentle pressure on her abdomen shifted to her hip and something warm blew against the exposed nape of her neck, startling her to full consciousness. Territory struggled to the edge of the bed with a strangled yelp. She misjudged her distance and toppled over the edge, taking the blanket with her in a flailing heap. “Easy noo,” the half-naked man said as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His deep blue eyes appeared groggy as he wiped his face with his hand and stifled a yawn. “Who the hell are you?” Territory asked, struggling to wrap the blanket firmly under her arms. All of the warmth she had felt was instantly sapped and her teeth began to chatter as she sat on the stone floor. “Ma name is Birgir Eriksson. I’m not going tae hurt ye,” he said, his tone velvety soft. His voice gave her goose bumps though she wasn’t sure why. Everyone in Scotland had a burr. Once he buttoned his shirt, he leaned further over the bed and picked up a dark blue sweater from a stool. He shook it out before handing it to her. “Why did you undress me?” Territory asked. She felt as though she were slowly emerging from anesthesia. Pain was returning, resonating through her midsection and shooting down her arms and legs. She glanced down and saw the bruises forming up and down her arms. Her legs, which she tucked under the blanket, were scraped raw and bruised. Birgir remained seated. Hands clasped, he rested his forearms on his thighs and looked her over.

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Teri stared at his hands, at the scratches and old scars speckling his knuckles. There was something intriguing about a man who obviously used his hands, especially one who spoke softly and was gruff by appearance. He had a broad nose and strong jaw, his cheekbones set high and eyes hooded. Handsome, yet appearing stern. Each time she looked at him she was drawn to the intensity of his gaze. “When I fished ye oot o’ the water ye were hypothermic. The blankets weren’t warming ye fast enough.” She followed his gaze to her soaking wet clothes piled in the center of the room and remembered her first-aid classes. They were mandatory at her old job, though she was never quite sure how half of the information would apply to her while she worked in an office building. “Skin-to-skin contact,” she said. He nodded and rose to his full height, which made Territory draw in a breath. With his back to her she pulled the sweater over her head and shimmied into the wooly warmth. Birgir tossed two more logs into the massive fireplace before he turned, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I’ll find ye something to wear in a moment. Woo ye fancy tea, love?” The fire warmed his features, illuminating his lips and giving his dark blonde hair a golden hue. This was the very essence of what Territory and her girlfriends constantly searched for in bars, clubs and gyms. It was all too easy to find good-looking men who were pushy and self-absorbed and even easier to find geeky guys who didn’t have the confidence to talk to a woman. But a guy who was handsome and sweet? He was like the Holy Grail. “Love?” Birgir tried again. He was staring at her, his intense blue eyes catching her unaware. “Tea would be great,” Territory said at last, feeling her face flush when she looked at him. “I’ll start the water warmin’ and step ooside,” Birgir said as he placed a copper kettle on the wood burning stove. Striding toward a long dresser at the end of the bed, he half-smiled and placed sweatpants on the footboard. “There are some slippers under the bed if the floor’s tae cold for ye. Knock on the door whenever you’re ready.” And with that he grabbed a heavy fur coat off a hook by the door and left Teri to herself.

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Chapter Four Eyes closed, Alaric listened to the stone’s pulsing rhythm, to the beat of something ancient. The murmur swelled, almost lost in the churning of an angry sea and howling wind, of grass and reeds and ever-shifting sands. But it was there nevertheless, still waiting to be discovered and rescued from its dormant state. Alaric just needed to find where it was located. “Cousin,” Alaric whispered before he turned away. “It’s been far too long, Birgir, far too long indeed.” ***** The moment Territory stood, she thought she would double over in agony, but with a few choice words muttered between her teeth she managed to steady herself. The worst pain came from her right hip, which she discovered had a fist-sized purple knot. She grimaced at the sight of it before threading her legs through Birgir’s sweatpants. Territory didn’t consider herself petite. She was tall enough to earn a spot on the girl’s basketball team in high school and meaty enough—as her mom would say—to hold her own. Yet, when she looked in Birgir’s mirror, she covered her face with her hands and laughed. “I look like an elf,” she thought to herself. “Nothing as sexy as sweatpants and a woolen sweater. Paris runway, here I come,” she said as she sat down and rolled up the pant legs. Before retrieving Birgir, she scanned the fire-lit room, trudging through piles of books and boxes while holding up her baggy pants. Her head was starting to pound, adding to her increasing misery. With a stone fireplace taking up half the wall, the room looked like a museum exhibit for an arcane homestead. There were ships and warriors, great swans and long houses carved into the mantle, each motif intricately detailed. Territory ran her fingers over the carvings, marveling at the workmanship until she heard the wind beating against the door. With a deep breath, she hung her soaking clothes near the fire and placed her tennis shoes by the woodpile. As she stood on the inlaid stone flooring she shivered, then loped across the room in search of slippers. She grinned to herself the moment she found two wool-lined slippers nearly twice the size as her own feet.

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“Men with big feet,” she sighed before she pushed the door open and called out to Birgir. ***** He still didn’t know her name. Wrapped in a bearskin cloak, Birgir sat on a rock and felt the sea spray against his face. Like most autumn nights it was cold and crisp, and Birgir found he welcomed the sting of icy water against his skin. It cleared his mind, which was far too easily muddled by a woman on his island. His only purpose was to keep her alive, but lying against her with his face in her hair had conjured up more intense emotions than he had intended. It didn’t much matter. By morning, he would take her back to the pier. There was no denying what needed to be done, but Birgir felt something wrenching inside him. This girl was different than any he had met in the past. He couldn’t describe what it was, but he had felt it the moment he had pulled her from the water. Nothing from the mainland had stirred his senses the way she had done. Seeing her in his home made him almost willing to abandon his hermit’s house. Almost. Solitude was what he knew best. Rowing out to the mainland only reassured him that he was different, that the time for men such as he had passed long ago. Birgir turned when he heard the door creaking open and saw the nameless woman pad into the darkness. He rose, watching her as she surveyed her surroundings. “You live on an island?” “Aye. Doesn’t everybody?” She smiled, wandering closer. Birgir swore he saw a hint of her nipples through the loaned sweater. “Not where I come from.” “An’ where woo that be?” “Minnesota,” she answered. “An American, then? I thought ye were a selkie.” Birgir removed his cloak and extended it to her. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” “No’ as cold as ye,” he answered. With one stern look she thanked him and took the wrap. Birgir looked away as she wrapped herself in his cloak and leaned against the rock where he had been sitting. “So what’s a selkie?” He turned toward her and smiled. “Some people think a storm is the most dangerous thing the sea has to offer, but only the most experienced ken it’s the selkie.” She grinned, chuckling to herself as she listened. “They’re seal-folk from Orkney. Have ye been tae Orkney?” “Not yet.” “Then let this be a warnin’ tae ye, love. They’re dangerous, beautiful, mischievous creatures tha’ come ashore tae seduce the regular folk. One look into their eyes an’ any mortal man is smitten, caught by their ravishing beauty. There’s no chance tae escape—unless the poor dolt manages tae steal the selkie’s skin. Ye see, the selkie can’t return tae the sea unless it has its sealskin, and if it’s stolen…the selkie is no longer free.” “How do I know you’re not a selkie?”

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Birgir raised a brow. “Thas’ a good question, love.” “This could be your selkie skin,” she said as the wind tugged at her wavy hair. With a grin, she disappeared into the furry hood. “Aye, it could be, but I’ve nivver heard o’ bear-folk roaming the ocean.” “Not quite as intriguing,” she replied as she glanced at him and smiled before training her gaze on the sky. Birgir sat beside her and watched waves crash over the rocks, the sea’s white hands stretching upon the island shores before slinking away into darkness. It was rare for him to enjoy comfortable silence in the presence of others. Excursions onto the Royal Mile were normally lubricated by pints of lager and shots of whisky, consumed mutually by him and the women who would inevitably lean in and ask if he wanted to go someplace quieter. Finally feeling the cold, Birgir turned, his action garnering her attention. “May I ask woot your name is, love?” “Territory Hail,” she said, looking at her crossed ankles. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. He noticed how she kept her hands concealed with her sweater sleeves. This intrigued him. “Some of my friends call me Teri.” “Which do ye prefer?” Territory shrugged, leaning so close that he could feel the warmth of her body beside him. She combed the ends of her wavy hair with her fingers, her elbow brushing up against him. “It doesn’t matter.” “Then I’ll call ye ma selkie.” Her eyebrows rose as she tilted her head to the side. “Because I’m dangerous and mysterious?” “Aye, boot you’re forgetting the most important part.” She laughed out loud and playfully pushed against his arm. “Smooth, Birgir.” He stared at her hand still touching his arm before looking into her eyes. He’d never heard anyone pronounce his name the way she did. Her American accent was endearing. He smiled as he rose to his feet. “Come on, Selkie,” he said, nodding toward the door. “You’ve been in the cold long enough tonight.”

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Chapter Five Damn, if he didn’t have the sexiest accent she had ever heard. One more word out of his inviting mouth and she was going to need a change of sweatpants—or at least to get out of Birgir’s sweatpants. It was perfect, she thought, as she watched him pour a mug of hot tea. What a fantastic story it would make when she got back home and told her girlfriends how this handsome, eccentric man took her back to his island home off the coast of Scotland and made love to her all night. She could leave out the near-drowning bit. They’d razz her endlessly if she said she was messing with a digital camera and fell into the water. Actually, they probably would have a difficult time believing that she wasn’t on her cell phone or BlackBerry. “Walking fine, I see,” Birgir commented. “Yeah, but I have a knot like this,” she said, making a fist to demonstrate, “on my hip.” “Are ye hungry?” Birgir asked. He placed a ceramic jar of honey on a small, round wooden table and sweetened his tea. “A little, but I could wait,” Territory replied. As he stirred his tea he looked her over, and Territory was slightly disappointed when he didn’t reply. He had flirted with her just a moment ago, hadn’t he? “Are ye traveling alone?” he asked as he seated himself in a chair and gestured for her to sit on his bed. “I don’t consider it traveling alone,” Territory answered. She tucked her sore legs beneath her and grimaced. “I consider it an opportunity to meet different people.” With a grunt, he watched from the corner of his eye as she continued to rake her fingers through her hair. She lost hold of her sleeve when she set her empty mug on the bedside table and the dark blue fabric fell down to her slender wrist. “Hands, no less,” Birgir said under his breath. “What did you say?” she asked, scrunching her nose. “I said ‘hands, no less,’“ Birgir replied as he sat forward and nodded to her left hand still hidden in her sleeve. “Or at least one.” Shifting so that her feet were on the floor, Territory stuck out her right hand and showed him that the scrapes from her ordeal were virtually nonexistent. Clasping her hand, Birgir ran his index finger over her knuckles and nodded in approval. “Fast healer,” he murmured.

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“My Grandmother Clara once made me a sweater with extra-long sleeves.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, Teri’s eyes flashed to the fireplace where her clothes were drying. “That one, actually.” Birgir grunted again, and when Teri turned she caught him staring at her face. His eyes instantly locked on hers. He didn’t say a word, but his finger still caressed the back of her hand. “What have you seen in Edinburgh?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. It took a moment for Territory to recover her senses, which were slowly dripping through her bloodstream and heading straight between her legs. Scratching her head, she shrugged and looked away, feeling her face flush. “Touristy things.” “Like woot?” “Like, uh, Holyrood Abbey,” she stammered. “And Tron Kirk...” Her voice trailed off when she realized she was rambling. “You’re a local. What should I see?” With a shrug, Birgir leaned forward and ran his thumb up and down the length of her index finger, then her middle finger, then her ring finger. A shiver of pleasure ran through the length of Teri’s spine as he caressed the tip of her thumb. “Depends on woot ye fancy,” he replied, his eyes fixed on her hand. “There are plenty of churches, shops, pubs…castles.” His eyes lifted and met hers. “Have ye noticed we have castles here?” Teri chuckled. “Only one or two.” Birgir grinned back and grasped her fingers. “There are probably more castles in Minnesota than here.” “Yeah, there’s one in the middle of every lake.” “Aye,” he nodded. With her eyes still locked on Birgir’s blue-gray gaze, Territory sat forward until their knees touched. Her heart was pounding as she felt the moment slowly inch from casual conversation to something much more heated and primal. “I should get some extra blankets,” Birgir said. He cleared his throat and squeezed her knee gently, then immediately apologized. “I forgot about your bruises.” Teri rose with him. “It’s more my hip than anything,” she said, looking down. Her hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face, her lip catching a few strands. Birgir reached up and brushed Teri’s hair back from her face, his fingertips teasing the shell of her ear. His gentle action garnered her attention, and in one steady gaze, Teri knew that he wanted her with greater urgency than his actions revealed. “I didn’t pull ye from the water expecting anything in return,” he murmured, caressing her earlobe. “Neither did I,” she sighed, her hands balling into fists around his shirt as she drew herself nearer. Immediately she smelled him, a mixture of seawater, sawdust, and his own masculine scent. Territory’s breath hitched as Birgir’s soft lips pressed against hers. She was surprised at how soft his goatee felt against her skin, his whiskers tickling her and piquing her senses.

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A little sigh escaped as Birgir’s hand remained on her face, his thumb grazing along her jaw from her earlobe to her chin. Lips parting slowly, Teri deepened the kiss and tasted him. Her hands explored his defined chest through his soft cotton shirt. He had the body of a laborer, his arms strong, shoulders sinewy and chest rock hard. Birgir kissed her hard, his breath hot against her face as her hands slipped under his shirt and touched the light dusting of hair along his midsection. His stomach tightened as her fingernails skimmed down to his belt. Pressing her torso to his, Teri moaned as Birgir’s long, thick fingers massaged the back of her skull. With no space left between them, she felt his arousal pressed high against her belly. Shifting her weight, she reached down and ran her hand up and down the front of his jeans, the wetness between her legs increasing when she realized his girth. She almost swore, but Birgir cradled her head, steadied her as his tongue explored her welcoming mouth. His kiss made her willingly surrender and his deft fingers sent her mind reeling. Teri imagined what it would feel like to have those fingers stroking her between the legs, his tongue flicking her clit to life. Large, calloused fingers accustomed to creating furniture would slide into her opening. Those hands that painted would send the lightest strokes across her flesh, delving slowly into her wet cleft. Powerful but gentle, Teri fantasized of how he would leave her completely sated, trembling in pleasure and begging for relief all over again. She desperately wanted Birgir to discover how wet he made her with just one kiss, how she wanted to feel his hands all over her body and his manhood inside of her. “Tell ma tae stop now,” he growled against her throat as she knelt on his bed. His hand grabbed her buttocks, pressing her further against the outline of his straining cock. “Or I won’t be able tae in a moment.” “I don’t want you to stop,” Teri breathed. He planted a lingering kiss full on her lips, their tongues barely touching. With both hands cupped around her face, he pulled back and searched her eyes as his thumb brushed over her kiss-swollen lower lip. His tenderness made her feel secure in his presence, his strong hands turning her joints to liquid. Territory looked into his light eyes fringed with long, dark lashes and felt something she’d never experienced with anyone else. It was because he had saved her, she told herself. That was why she felt as though he was her sanctuary. Brushing her hair over her shoulders, Birgir lay her down on his bed and knelt alongside her. Teri’s hands trembled with anticipation as she hastily unbuttoned his shirt and ran her thumb over an erect nipple. With her hands lost in his hair, Teri moaned to his soft kisses along her neck and shoulder. Birgir kneaded her breast through her sweater, immediately finding her hardened nipple. He teased her with the palm of his hand, circling her breast so that the heel of his hand dragged over the hardened peak. Another harsh breath escaped past her lips, and Teri’s stomach tightened as he straddled her. His belt came loose in her grasp and she heard him sigh in anticipation.

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His necklace fell from his shirt and dropped onto her chest with a heavy thunk, the contrast of something cool against her warm flesh making her suck in a breath. “What’s this?” she asked as she ran her finger over the amulet. The leather was thinning where the bale rubbed against the string. Teri was careful not to pull on the silver piece, lest she destroy it. She studied it a moment and brushed her thumb over the green-blue stone with red veins threaded through it. She was about to ask him again, but Birgir stole another kiss. “Family heirloom. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember,” he answered. Territory helped him struggle out of his pants, her fingers groping along the definition of his trim hips while he pulled her sweater over her head. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin, but Birgir’s wide hands covered her sides and ribs, warming her inside and out. His eyes lingered on her stomach, and Teri inhaled when he drew a circle around the little silver ring piercing her navel. “You look as though you’ve never seen a bellybutton ring before,” she murmured as his finger traced around the braided silver. Birgir’s lips made a languid trail up her stomach and ribs, making her moan each time his goatee brushed her sensitive skin. He kissed her so tenderly along her breasts and neck that she wanted to weep. She felt like a goddess, honored, served and satisfied. “I need you,” she whispered when he looked into her eyes. Raising her head, she found his lips and pulled him close, her legs cradling his hips as he swept one arm beneath her body. He lowered but didn’t enter her, and for one agonizing moment they remained tangled, tongues tasting, hands exploring. Birgir supported his weight on his knees and stroked between her thighs, groaning when he discovered how warm and wet she was and how she couldn’t stop herself from crying out when his finger slid into her. She shuddered in pleasure when he found her clit, hard and smooth and ready to react to each stroke. Teri spread her legs wider and reached for him, finding it impossible to fit her hand all the way around his erection when she stroked him. He brought her to a mini-climax that left her panting but hardly sated. Seeing the gleam in his blue-gray eyes, she knew he wanted to hear her scream out. “Here,” he murmured as he reached into the bedside table and handed her a condom. He shrugged out of his shirt, allowing her a lingering moment to study his well-muscled torso. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes drawn to a thin scar down the length of his abdomen. “Ma brother,” he answered. “Greatest swordsman under the age of eight.” Teri smiled and ripped open the foil packet. “Lie on your back,” she instructed. They changed places, Birgir running his hand up and down her spine as she rolled the condom down his length. “I want to be on top.” He partially sat up, his lips parting in surprise at her request. Nodding once in agreement, Birgir pulled her onto him and kissed her deeply, carefully avoiding pressure to her hip. She giggled at his playful aggression and felt his hands run up and down her sides, tenderly grasping her. Teri arched her back and felt him guide her onto his erection. She exhaled against his kiss when the head of his cock impaled her. She couldn’t contain herself

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and moaned loudly, surprising herself. His thickness slowly stretched her and her breaths turned ragged and desperate to feel him completely. Once she mounted him she paused and allowed her body to adjust to the size of his shaft as Birgir ran his fingers down her stomach, his eyes watching her face. Eyes closed, Teri moved against him while Birgir fondled her breasts. A breath hissed past her lips as she rode him, as she felt him stroke her on the inside. He tightened his stomach and sat up so that he could fit his lips around her nipple and grazed the hardened peak of her breast with his teeth. He sucked her slowly, his tongue hot as it flicked and rolled around her pebbled nipples. “You feel so good,” she sighed, rising and falling onto his arousal faster, controlling the pressure and speed of their lovemaking. Her mound was swollen and sensitive, pleasure coiling tighter low in her belly. Birgir placed his hands on Territory’s hips and lengthened the strokes, exhaling against her throat. She felt him grow harder and knew that he was close to climax. The feel of him so strong within her made it impossible to hold back. “I want tae make ye come,” he murmured before his lips found hers again. His thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple and overwhelmed her senses. Teri cried out as Birgir pulled her down onto his erection and climaxed with her. She felt him pulse within her as her body contracted around his shaft in a powerful release that left her weak and helpless in his arms. Breathing hard, Birgir rested his forehead to hers and opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers. She could still feel him, his climax complete, her pleasure still trickling through her nerves. He kissed her shoulder and panted, arms wrapped around her back, fingers tangled in her long hair. With one more kiss full on the lips, he said everything Teri wanted to hear.

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Chapter Six Craig Connor said goodbye to the other two bartenders on duty and grabbed his pea coat. He scanned the pub one last time for the cute American girl before giving up. The last he had seen her she had been staring at a map and muttering to herself. “Ye run into any trouble, ye give ma’a nod,” Craig told her as he brought her a soda to replace the Tennent’s she hadn’t touched. “Thanks, I will,” she replied before an older man with a beard pointed to one of her brochures and gave her some advice. Craig was still thinking of the little blonde when he lit up and jogged across the street. He was halfway across when he heard someone behind him yell, “Bartender!” With a roll of his eyes, Craig turned to face a handsome but gaunt man. He had shoulder-length dark hair, kept neatly back, and eyes that matched his hair. “I don’t mean to bother you, sir, but I was wondering if you could help me.” Craig turned in the middle of the street. “With woot?” he asked with his cigarette dangling from his lips. “I’m looking for a man by the name of Birgir Eriksson,” the stranger said. He shoved his hands into his trench coat pockets. “I was told that you might be able to help me.” “Sure, I ken him. Been a friend of mine for a long time,” Craig answered. “And who would ye be?” The dark-haired man gave an easy smile. “I’m the only family he has left.” ***** “I’ve got a carrot,” Birgir said as he bent and stared into his refrigerator. “And woot’s this? A potato.” Territory lay in bed with her hands behind her head and grinned. They had spent an hour lying in bed, her head resting on his muscular arm as they talked and kissed and laughed. Teri couldn’t remember anyone—man or woman, friend or family—who she’d felt so completely comfortable with at once. She remembered her grandfather once talking about being a war veteran and how close troops became when one man saved another man’s life. That’s all it is, she tried telling herself. I feel close to him because he saved me from drowning or freezing to death.

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“You need to go shopping,” Teri said as she investigated his walls. Despite all the canvases lying on the floor, there were only two paintings on the wall, both of Viking ships on the sea. Beside one was a thin metal cross, slightly crooked and terribly rusted. “You need to eat what I have,” Birgir replied over her shoulder. Teri snorted. “How long are you going to rip on me for being a vegetarian?” “As long as it takes until ye try ma beef stew.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder, seeing her frown. “Seriously, Selkie, I’ve got a carrot, a potato and some biscuits, but those are a few days old.” “I’ll take a stale biscuit and a baked potato,” she said as she sat up and reached for her discarded sweater. Together they ate cheese, crackers and baked potatoes, which Birgir told her was because he felt guilty eating beef stew in front of a vegetarian. She found that she was comfortable in his presence, both in and out of bed. And though she tried not to think about it, Teri thought it was a shame that after she left Scotland she’d never see this man again. “My whole family eats meat, and my ex-boyfriend used to order veal and lamb because he knew how I felt about it.” Birgir raised an eyebrow. “A respectable gentleman.” Teri nibbled a cracker and wondered if anyone in her family had attempted to contact her. She was never without her phone and she didn’t travel without her laptop, which made it all the more ironic that a digital camera had been her bane. When she thought about it, she suddenly noticed that Birgir didn’t have a regular phone let alone a cell phone. Or a computer. “Yeah, note the term ‘ex-boyfriend’. We broke up a few weeks before I left.” She took a drink from her bottle of water and changed the subject, deciding that fling or not, he didn’t need to know about her dating past. “Did you carve the pictures on the mantel?” “Aye, took ma several years tae complete it.” “I’ve never seen anything so detailed carved into a mantel before.” Birgir shrugged and continued eating with his head modestly lowered. Teri reached out and placed her hand over his. “I’m serious. Do the pictures have special meanings?” He shrugged again. “Tae ma.” “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?” He grinned as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips. “I wasn’t intendin’ tae, no.” “Why not?” Birgir looked at her, his eyes studying her face as though he were contemplating what he should tell and what should be left secret. Scooting his chair back, he nodded and took her hand. “Come on, Selkie.” The moment she stood he placed his hand at the small of her back and smiled. Territory looked into his eyes and smiled back faintly, knowing she was going to have a hell of a time leaving him. ***** Women from the Edinburgh pubs were rarely willing to get into a boat and row to an island for sex. They were even less willing to make the excursion in order to see half-finished

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oil paintings and wood carvings, so when Territory seemed interested in hearing about the mantel, Birgir felt a surge of excitement. Eight years of work would at last find an audience. Albeit one, but it was enough. “Woot do ye ken aboot Norsemen?” Birgir asked as Teri leaned forward and studied the carving of a man walking through a meadow. There were trees ahead of him, and through the intricate details of leaves and brush Teri found wicked eyes and a thin, clawed hand wrapped around a slender tree. Territory gave a crooked smile. “I’m from Minnesota. I know a little. Do the people have names?” “That’s Aerik, below him is Kaelon, his firstborn,” Birgir said, leaving it at that while Teri’s eyes moved to the opposite end of the hearth. She pointed to a creature with the hindquarters of a wolf and the torso of a man. “What’s this?” “His name is Alekandar. He travels sometimes as a wolf and sometimes as a human.” “And here?” Birgir rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Ma brother Erik, lover of horses.” Territory turned and looked at him curiously. “Did you use people in your family for inspiration?” Birgir nodded once before explaining how he made other mantels, which he sold in his studio. He made all sorts of carvings from saints to naked women to beloved hunting dogs. “You haul mantels onto a boat and take them back to Edinburgh? Even when you’ve had a studio there for the past six years?” Territory asked, arching a brow. “Aye, a whole fifteen minutes across the water and another fifteen tae Edinburgh. Takes up most of ma day,” he answered as he scratched the back of his head. His grin widened. “Woot do ye do when you’re not floatin’ around Mortimer’s Deep?” “I majored in computer technology, but I mostly work for my dad, which isn’t nearly as glamorous as it sounds.” “Woot’s your father do?” “He plays with antique and muscle cars and I help him and my brother sell or trade cars and parts online and over the phone. I’m pretty much their receptionist and bookkeeper. And I look better in a skirt than they do, so I’m also on my dad’s commercials.” “Famous.” “Not quite,” she said, holding back a yawn. “I’m hoping to do something a little more big business when I return home.” Birgir nodded and walked to his bed where there was an old trunk. “Let ma grab some extra blankets for ye. I’ll take the floor if ye want,” he said, attempting to be chivalrous and respectful. He wasn’t sure if there was a protocol for things like this, but he thought it best not to seem presumptuous. Teri shook her head. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

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Chapter Seven Teri was almost asleep when she felt the cool woosh of blankets being drawn back. Her eyes opened when Birgir sat and drew his shirt over his head. “Those pants are a hideous shade of green,” she murmured. “Aye, and warm tae boot.” He smelled like toothpaste and sea salt, which made Teri grin. Extending her hand, Teri ran her fingertips down his spine. Birgir arched his back when her touch skimmed past the small of his back where Teri felt a thin ridge. She lifted her head as Birgir turned off the light and caught a glimpse of a scar that ran diagonally across his spine and disappeared beneath the waistband. He lay down beside her, taking her hand, which was still on his side, and brought it up to his chest. “Did you have surgery when you were little?” she asked as she snuggled in close. Birgir grunted, and Territory felt his hot breaths on the back of her hand. “No, why?” “Isn’t that a scar on your back?” Birgir turned and Teri saw his blue eyes studying her face in the dark. “Parochial school,” he said as he lay on his side and put his arm around her. “Didn’t quite agree with ma.” “How long were you there?” she said, giggling to herself. “Woot’s sae funny?” “I make it sound like prison.” “You’ll get no argument from ma. I was there for three years. Once they couldn’t tell ma tae stay, I left. Did ye go tae Catholic prison as well, Selkie?” Teri smiled. “My mom was the suburban anti-Christ,” she said, her fingers gently running through Birgir’s chest hair. “She was the pagan among room moms and Girl Scout leaders. I hated having her pick me up when I was younger, and then…I don’t know. I turned thirteen, I was looking to be myself and I felt like I understood her or something.” Running his finger along her lower lip, he asked, “Woot happened tae her?” Teri felt her throat tighten. She didn’t make it a habit of telling people about her mom’s death. “Car accident. A guy fell asleep at the wheel.” “How old were ye?” “Thirteen.” “I haven’t seen either of my parents since I was thirteen.”

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They lay together in the dark, arms wrapped around one another and the heady smell of peat scenting the air, covering the lingering wood smoke. Teri closed her eyes, held between dreams and reality as Birgir ran his fingers along her scalp. Turning her face, she kissed his wrist, her pulse racing as his gentle, lulling touch turned into a slow, rolling boil of passion. Eyes closed, she groaned softly as his rough hand touched her cheek. He allowed her to suck on his fingertip, his breaths coming faster, his free hand pressed firmly to the small of her back. When she could no longer stand it, Teri struggled out of her sweatpants as Birgir caught her lips against his and plunged his tongue into her mouth. A moan escaped past her lips as he rolled on top of her, lips trailing kisses down her neck. He lifted her shirt and kissed her breasts, his tongue gently flicking along her skin. Teri gasped when she felt his lips slip past her navel, past the curve of her stomach leading between her legs. She hesitated a moment, unsure of whether or not she wanted something so intimate. Sensing her hesitation, Birgir ran his thumb along her swollen flesh, teasing her with the promise of relief. Her mind was made up for her the moment Birgir kissed the inside of her thigh and sent a wave of undeniable pleasure surging through her nerves. With a gentle push he parted her thighs and nuzzled her, planting soft, heated kisses until Territory was gasping for breath. “You’re so smooth,” he murmured as his finger ran along her satiny, damp cleft. Teri cried out, her hips lifting off the bed as his tongue circled around her throbbing mound. Her hands balled into fists around the sheets, forehead beaded with sweat as he drew the little bud between his lips and flicked his tongue faster. Her head tossed from side to side, face flushed with need. Teri swelled with passion, begging him in barely audible whispers to fill her and bring her relief. Birgir teased her with his fingers, stroking her, smooth, slick outside and tempting her with shallow, slow penetration. He explored her with his mouth, blowing warm air against her flesh, licking and sucking on her hot center. “Please,” she panted, feeling herself scoot down the bed to feel more of him. Inserting a second finger, he pumped her harder, sending a surge of heat into her belly that rushed between her legs. With a scream that she couldn’t contain, her walls contracted, body shuddering with pleasure she’d never felt before. Stars appeared behind her closed eyes and she felt a surge that left her whimpering and limp to his touch. He’d found that place, that secret place she’d never known existed on her body. She felt her excitement flood from her, soaking the sheets and Birgir’s fingers that still caressed her, allowing her a moment of rest. When her breathing steadied, he kissed her again, mindful of her sensitivity. “I want to touch you,” Territory managed to speak over the growing urgency building once again. Birgir chuckled against her thigh, his goatee rough against her smooth flesh. “There’s no one nearby,” he said. “Yeah?” “I want to hear you,” he murmured, tongue flicking against her engorged clit. Territory’s eyes squeezed shut. “You want me to scream?”

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He gave an “mmhmm,” that vibrated pleasure into her nerves. He was going to make her scream, she knew. He was going to leave her bone-weary in bed, begging to feel his thick manhood between her legs. But she wasn’t the only one who was going to be begging. With a smile she shifted in bed until her head was by his knees, her every intention set on making him writhe with pleasure. It seemed to surprise Birgir when Teri ran her fingers in a feather trail down his midsection. Lifting his head, he watched her with heavy-lidded eyes as she coaxed him fully to life with quick, commanding strokes. His stomach tightened and Teri grinned at his involuntarily reaction, at the way the head of his velvety member twitched when she ran the palm of her hand over him. Satisfied with his reaction, she flicked her tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, finding the spot below the head of his manhood that made him exhale hard. “Selkie,” he whispered, shifting so that he could kiss the inside of her leg, his fingers once again teasing her as she aroused him further. Not to be outdone by his woman, Birgir brought one hand beneath her and pleasured her with his fingers, thrusting harder into her as he sucked her sensitive womanhood to the very brink of her sanity. Teri groaned, unable to stop the pulsing pleasure that unexpectedly filled her insides. The sensations rendered her senseless, leaving her crying out with each little earthquake that curled her toes and made her head fall back. Caught in ecstasy, she didn’t realize that he had moved until his lips closed around her nipple and kept her suspended in a state of bliss. “Almost,” he whispered against her breast. Straddling her, Birgir swept one hand beneath her and held her close. His teeth grazed against her neck, tongue sending a trail of liquid fire against her surrendering body. He’d given her more than she thought possible and he still wanted her to feel more. Any moment now she would spontaneously combust. His kisses were fierce, claiming her as his own if only for the night. Each thrust of his tongue made Teri acutely aware of how much he needed to satisfy himself, to bury his arousal deep inside of her. Thighs parting, she grabbed his buttocks and urged him to fill her. He’d barely unrolled the condom when she reached for him and lifted her hips. Even though she had felt him inside of her already, it still came as a delicious shock when she felt him again, this time from a different position. He was trying to hold back and make love to her, but Teri didn’t want slowly. She just wanted him. And she told him, somehow finding her voice. Hands tangled in his hair, she pressed her lips to his ear and told him exactly what she wanted him to do. “Make me scream,” she hissed as he pumped her. “I want all of you.” Birgir responded to her fingers pressing into the long, corded muscles of his back. He pulled her close and used his weight to entice her throbbing mound, pleasuring her with long, steady strokes. When he discovered how she reacted to him pulling out completely and entering her again, restraining himself, Birgir teased her, allowing his shaft to slide in and out, then angling himself so that he rubbed against her clit before penetrating her again.

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Her third climax came moments before Birgir couldn’t hold off a second longer. Legs in the air, she closed her eyes and held her breath, knowing that the buildup of overwhelming pleasure was about to shatter within her. Each stroke was deeper, and as she tilted her hips upward Birgir found the hidden space within her again and sent the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced radiating through her body. As her walls contracted he buried himself deep and she responded with a climax so intense that she couldn’t contain herself. She did scream, just as he wanted. A scream of pleasure she knew she’d never experience again in her life. Arms wrapped around his torso, she buried her face in his massive shoulder and held him tight, wanting to memorize the way he felt inside of her, the way his arms felt around her and the way his chest heaved in satisfied exhaustion as he lay atop her. She wanted to remember the way he smelled when her body aroused him, the way his kisses felt warm and lazy against her neck and hair. And those hands, calloused and strong but able to lay the softest caress where she needed it most. After a while he kissed her forehead softly and rolled onto his side. He pulled her in close so that she was warm and comfortable at his side, able to feel his heartbeat and soft, even breaths. Teri reached down and skimmed her hand over his shaft, feeling his velvety softness no longer erect. He whispered in her ear that he’d wake her up in an hour and she chuckled softly and kissed his neck. Squeezing her close to his body, Birgir found her eyes in the darkness and ran his fingers along her cheek. “Goodnight, Selkie,” he whispered. Teri merely smiled and rested her head on his chest. It was all she could do to keep from saying, “I love you.”

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Chapter Eight Birgir slipped out of bed and decided to take a shower before Teri woke. She murmured in her sleep when he pulled his hand from beneath her body, but he shushed her and she fell asleep again, rolling onto her stomach. She smiled in her sleep as he smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “Where are you going?” she murmured. “Shower,” he whispered. He couldn’t resist caressing her long back before he pulled up the covers and left her to sleep. The fire had gone down during the night, so he added more wood pellets to the fire. The pellets burned longer and didn’t produce as much smoke, which he liked because it was more eco-friendly. Once his hands were warmed, he pulled the leather cord over his head. He ran his thumb over the weakened leather and frowned before he left his amulet on a bench beside Teri’s shoes. A shudder rattled through him once he removed the jewelry. He knew it was from his parents, despite the nuns telling him that it was a pagan symbol. He’d worn it proudly each day of his life, ignoring the stern lectures and the occasional thwack of a ruler across his knuckles. Even the thin scar on his back—the result of a paddle breaking and lacerating his skin—was worth keeping the silver pendant. He would do anything to preserve the memories of the people he loved. With a frown he ran his fingers along the mantel and studied the images, wondering what had become of the others. He imagined that his brothers remained close, just as they had been in youth. Bittersweet memories returned as his eyes darted from one image to the next. He wasn’t an outsider in his family, but Birgir had always been the loner. He spent more time traveling the woods and the shoreline alone than with his brothers, who were rarely apart. Aside from Erik, he wasn’t close to the rest in the same way they were akin to one another. His ties were strong enough merely knowing that they were brothers. Comfort came in seeing them near, not by roughhousing and sparring around the sauna house. Growing tall at an early age, Birgir found his cousin Emeric was a constant source of torment. Wicked in every way, Emeric mistook Birgir’s size for fierceness and refused to relent, even when Birgir walked away and ignored his belligerence.

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Fingers tracing the carving of a horse, Birgir allowed his gaze to settle on Erik, who had always defended him. “May the Aesir in Asgard be with you, Brother,” he whispered. Hearing Territory rustling in the blankets, Birgir returned his attention to her. She yawned as she turned over in bed and rubbed her eyes. A slight smile played at the corner of her lips as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge. She arched her back like a cat before cocking her head to the side and grinning. “Ye look mighty suspicious tae ma, Selkie.” She blinked innocently before she laughed to herself. “I was just wondering if there was hot water left.” “You go first. I’ll make ye beans and toast for breakfast.” She rose from bed wearing his sweater, which was long enough to just cover her thighs. Watching her pad across the floor was a form of torture, as Birgir couldn’t stop himself from thinking about their night together. He loved everything about her, from the way her skin felt buttery smooth to the way she responded to his touch. Territory came up behind him and snaked her arm around his waist. “Watcha doing?” “Thinking.” She plucked his amulet from the bench and looked it over, her gaze switching back and forth from the carvings to the object in her hand. “You gave them all one?” she questioned. Birgir nodded. “We all have them.” “That’s an interesting tradition.” He grunted and put his arm around her, rubbing her lower back. “My father gave them to us when we were very young. I’ve nivver been without it.” “Are you close to your brothers?” Birgir went silent for a long moment as he rested his chin on the top of Teri’s head. “I miss them,” he said. “We’ve been separated for a long time.” “Where are they?” she asked under her breath. Birgir shook his head. They remained suspended in thought for a long moment, words unneeded. He was glad for her silent presence. In her quiet way she brought him comfort, contentedness he hadn’t felt since childhood. And though he felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for so long, he knew the tide of elation would ebb once Territory left. He squeezed her tighter, wanting to tell her how he felt but knowing his words would only make it worse. For the moment he would enjoy her company and add her to the memories he carried, warmed by the fire of his heart, carved upon the mantel in his mind. “The loo is all yours,” he whispered in her hair. “Come with me,” she murmured against his chest. “You’re a hard woman to keep satisfied,” he replied, grasping her hand. Walking away, Teri shot him a seductive smile, her eyes half-open. “I wasn’t talking about you satisfying me.” ***** It was late morning when Territory and Birgir left his island home.

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Dressed in his bear cloak over trousers and a mock turtleneck, Birgir looked ruggedly handsome navigating the rocky shoreline. His hair was tied back, and as he walked through the dense fog, she followed, mesmerized by his presence. There was something tantalizing about a man who looked so fierce but treated her with tenderness and chivalrous respect. Men like him were the remnants of a bygone era. “There really isn’t anything around you, is there?” she asked as she scanned the choppy water. “Water and seals.” Watching Birgir work sent a tingle up Teri’s spine as she thought about running her soap-slick hands up and down his chest, her mouth around his hardened shaft. Remembering how the steaming water cascaded down his muscular frame made her want him again. He’d pulled her up to his lips before he climaxed, and as his tongue pushed past her lips he groaned against her mouth. “Watch your step.” Startled from her daydream, Teri smiled as she negotiated her way along the damp rocks. Birgir had attempted to convince her that she could wear his pants and sweater until she got to her hotel, but she refused to walk through a big city in his oversized, mismatched clothes. “You have all this to yourself?” she asked as she stood beside the rowboat. The larger vessel he had used to save her was docked within view, the helm bearing a figure of a topless maiden holding a shield. “Aye.” Birgir pushed his boat into the sea and reached for her hand. “Come on, Selkie, I thought ye were hungry.” “You’re the one who’s hungry. I need to get to my hotel before I eat. My clothes smell like Scottish water and I need to check my messages.” “Scottish water?” he questioned. “Yeah, like the sea.” He grinned in return. “Around here, Selkie, Scottish water is whisky.” Teri cocked her head to the side. “I could use some real Scottish water.” Birgir helped her into the boat and draped his cloak around her. She squirmed a little once it rested on her shoulders, which he immediately noticed. “I’m not one for fur,” she said before he asked. He nodded as he rowed them toward the pier. “It’s not what ye think.” Teri’s eyes narrowed. “What’s not what I think?” Birgir said no more. He glanced at her before committing himself to rowing, and Teri decided not to question him further. His eyes were plagued with sorrow, his lips drawn tight as he kept his gaze on a distant point. “How come you don’t get cold?” Teri asked suddenly. Birgir rested a moment and tapped his fingers on his chest. “Fire,” he said. He hesitated and Teri saw his troubled blue eyes silently debating something. “What is it, Birgir?” “You’re carved within me,” he mumbled before he pushed them further toward the shoreline.

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Chapter Nine Craig was walking to work in the middle of the afternoon when he passed the Scotsman Hotel and saw Birgir sitting at a brasserie table in the corner. There was no mistaking someone of Birgir’s height and girth, especially when he insisted on wearing a fur cloak. “Woot the bloody hell is this?” Craig said as he punched Birgir in the arm and straddled a chair. “Living like a king on dry land now, are ye?” Birgir glanced around. “We were just on our way to see ye down at the pub.” “We? Ye and the puffins again?” “Oh, aye, me and the puffins,” he answered sardonically, nodding toward the back of the brasserie where Teri was walking out of the loo. She was dressed in a long skirt and a coral-colored twin set, tight enough to show off the size of her perky breasts. With her hair tied back from her face, Craig’s eyes were drawn to her shiny, full lips. “None of the pretty ones have taste, do they?” Craig said as he rose alongside Birgir and waited for his friend to introduce him. Recognition registered on Teri’s face the moment Birgir said Craig’s name, but she smiled and shook his hand, saying nothing of how he had practically fallen over himself to hit on her the previous afternoon. “This is your selkie, eh? I hope your selkie doesn’t have an older brother.” “I have a younger brother,” Teri answered. “But he’s home with my dad.” Craig winked at her and turned back to Birgir. “There’s someone looking for ye, Bir. Dark-haired fellow named Al Holder, says he’s family. Caught ma coming out of the pub and asked ma tae tell ye. Didn’t ken I was your PR now. Ye pay shite.” Birgir eyes narrowed but he nodded. “Did he say how tae contact him?” “He said he’d find ye.” Craig shrugged. Looking toward the window, Birgir nodded. “We’ll be off to the pub in a wee bit. I promised Teri I’d show her the rest of my woodwork.” Birgir shot Craig a warning look when Craig snickered. “If ye see him again tell him where he can find ma.” Craig punched Birgir again before shaking Teri’s hand. “Don’t fall for any of his lines, lass,” he teased. He pulled Birgir in before he jogged off to work and whispered. “Whoever he is, I didna trust him. Watch yourself, Bir.” *****

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Day turned to dusk by the time Birgir and Territory made their way from North Bridge back to the Royal Mile. They cut across to a winding street not far from St. Giles Cathedral and ducked into a little storefront with wide windows and a narrow front door. Valhalla Furnishings was crowded with richly designed chairs and mantels. There were carved and painted likenesses of people and animals displayed along the exposed brick walls. “Amazing,” Teri said to herself, her mouth agape as she wandered through the storefront while Birgir walked into the back to turn up the heat. He left her with his cloak, which she draped over a chair. “What’s Valhalla again?” “The hall where great warriors rest and battle one another when they die,” he called out from the back. “Norse mythology?” “No, Selkie, that’s the honest to gods’ truth.” He appeared a few moments later with a small cardboard box, which he placed on a finished table for her. “What’s this?” “Woot’s the fun in giving someone a box if you’re just going tae tell them woot’s in it?” She chuckled until she opened the top and peered inside, finding a seal with the head of a woman. “Artistic interpretation,” he said as she turned it over in the palm of her hand. “It’s for ye…if ye have room in your luggage.” Teri scrunched her nose. “I don’t know if I can squeeze it in there,” she teased before she stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re too sweet.” With a shrug, he tossed the box under the table and pulled her into the backroom to show her some mantels and mirror frames he was waiting to send out to the buyers. ***** From across the narrow street Alaric watched his long-lost cousin open the door and enter a little storefront lost among the crowded shops. A grim smile crossed his lips, satisfaction coming in his find. With darkness as his cloak, he brazenly crossed the street and watched through the window as the woman at his side browsed the shop, her long, slender fingers running over polished high back chairs and soft velvet cushions. Birgir handed her his bearskin, which made Alaric raise a brow. He still recalled the day when he and his twin had slunk through the woods in pursuit of their loner cousin. The giddiness in his belly reemerged as he thought of how they had found Birgir wandering deeper and deeper into the old woods where he had finally ducked into a cave and found a mother bear and her single cub. The temptation had been too great. With a nudge to the ribs, Emeric had looked at Alaric and grinned as they crouched by the cave’s mouth and watched Birgir hold out his hand to greet the beasts. Unlike his brother Erik, who tamed horses or his brother Alekander who hunted, Birgir befriended unlikely allies. In secret he walked the old forests, his footfalls silent for such a giant. But in his haste he had finally slipped, and as soon as they had known his direction, the twins had not been able to resist harassing their oafish cousin. “Come, let’s see how much the bear truly trusts dear Birgir,” Emeric had said.

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Alaric had cracked his knuckles as he watched Birgir lead the young woman toward the back. “You make this far too easy, you ignorant fool,” he had said before turning away to inform his father. ***** “How do people find you?” “Word of mouth, mostly,” he answered, crossing his arms as he sat on a folding chair, the only thing in the store he hadn’t made. “These are really amazing. I haven’t seen anything so beautifully detailed since last visiting a museum.” Birgir merely shrugged. He held out his hand and brought Teri onto his lap, where he folded his arms around her. “Ye missed Inchcolm Island again, Selkie.” With a sigh, she nodded. “There’s always tomorrow.” She twisted around and cradled his head in her hands, kissing him softly on the lips. “And then I’m off to St. Andrews.” Birgir grunted as he ran his fingertips up and down her spine. With a grin, Teri closed her eyes and leaned against him, feeling him exhale against her neck. He kissed her again as his hand swept along her inner thigh and slowly stroked between her legs. Her skirt was thin enough to feel the heat of his long fingers, and her breath responded to the pleasure he silently promised. Turning her face, Birgir kissed her hard on the mouth. She groaned against his lips while his hand traveled up her belly and under her shirt. His firm touch sent a shiver of pleasure through her as the palm of his hand brushed past her nipple, the contrast between her satiny bra and his rough hand almost too much to bear. She straddled his right leg and yanked his shirt over his head, barely able to break away from his kiss as he did the same to her. Flicking her tongue against his nipple, Teri felt his back arch in response. She couldn’t resist nipping him gently to hear him suck in a breath through his teeth. Drawing her lips to his, he inched her long skirt up her legs until it rested mid-thigh. There he stopped and moved his hand beneath the fabric, turning his wrist so that he touched a sensitive spot on the back of her leg. Teri’s eyes closed as he caressed her through her damp panties, his touch so light and teasing that it made her legs part. A groan escaped her lips as he traced along her cleft, his touch turning firm as he felt her desperately lowering against his hand, greedily inviting him to pleasure her. When he didn’t do it himself, Territory took the initiative and pulled her cotton bikini aside for him to feel her. She shifted, spreading her legs wider while unbuttoning his trousers and stroking him to life. She didn’t want to climax without him filling her this time and she showed him how much she wanted to feel his thickness pumping her by groaning in his ear. Birgir allowed her one heated moment of his fingers sliding into her before he circled her clit and drew back, leaving her moaning in frustration. “Don’t make me wait,” she whispered as she nibbled his earlobe. She kissed his neck before she slunk from his lap and knelt on the floor. Birgir panted and watched her play with him, his breaths coming fast and hard when she stroked his testicles, supporting the weight in one hand while she stroked him faster. His

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head rolled back once she sheathed him and sucked on the tip of his uncut cock, his legs spreading wider as he strained to keep from climaxing. Teri surprised herself, as she was never one for giving head, but everything was different with Birgir. She wanted to experience every part of him, to touch and tease and bring him the same ecstasy he’d given her. When he could barely stand it a moment longer, Birgir sat up and gently grasped her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. Once she was standing he placed his hands on her hips, set her on a dining room table and lifted her skirt. Teri lay back, moving a “sold” sign that had caught in her hair while Birgir bent and kissed her between the legs, his tongue tickling her through her panties. She struggled out of them and scooted herself closer to the edge, wanting to feel every inch of him throbbing inside of her. He positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly, his palms pressed to the table and his pants still around his ankles. As he gradually filled her, Teri felt her walls grip him as he sent a sharp exhale of breath hissing past his teeth. Her legs clasped around his back, drawing him closer and making her tighter. In this new position, his arousal filled her at an angle that made her whimper with pleasure and sent him gripping the table’s edge. His thrusts were slow at first, allowing her to feel every thick inch of him. His pubic bone rubbed her mound with each stroke, tormenting her, creating knots in her stomach that desperately needed to be unraveled. Grasping her by the wrist, Birgir positioned her index finger between her legs. Teri hesitated at first, but once she realized that Birgir’s thrusts became more fevered, she placed his hand over hers and made him guide her to climax, their combined pressure and her ability to watch him sent her into a quick, hard orgasm. Shaky breaths left her body, and Teri placed her hand low on his belly to keep him from applying pressure to her recovering clit. Lifting her legs, he made her tighter as he steadied himself and brought her hips back and forth, her body sliding along the table thanks to her long skirt. He pumped her harder, the head of his manhood finding the spot deep inside of her again. Teri gritted her teeth to keep from screaming out in overwhelming bliss as she parted her legs and brought him deeper. Birgir leaned over her and thrust harder, burying himself deep when he came. His arms swept beneath her and he brought her mouth to his, allowing a groan to escape as his body continued to spasm. “Where do men like you come from?” Teri murmured in his ear, her legs wrapping around his hips. Birgir kissed her softly and breathed against her face. “From places that no longer exist,” he answered, rubbing her back. “In times and lands that are more of myth than reality, of mist and fire, mountains and seas that have changed so greatly that the old no longer recognize the new.” His words sent goose bumps down her arms. Running her fingers through his hair, Teri studied his eyes, mesmerized. “They aren’t supposed to be here. Their time has passed, their ways forgotten. They exist in half-sleep and wait for someone to wake them, resurrect their sense of belonging in

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history that has not yet come to pass. And then, when they feel it finally, the tide takes it away, and they once more lay in wait, these men who no longer belong.” “Who said that?” “I did,” he answered, pressing his forehead to hers. “A thousand years pass, the moon waxes and wanes, and I find ye in the ocean, a selkie waiting to be discovered. Your selkie skin will never be claimed,” he whispered. “Just as I said, beautiful and dangerous.” Teri’s eyes met his and she smiled weakly, not wanting to release him. “I’m not beautiful and dangerous.” “Aye, ye are, and ye don’t ken. That’s the worst part of it all.”

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Chapter Ten Territory and Birgir walked arm in arm from the shop and out onto the street again, heading toward the top of the Royal Mile. “I’ll show ye the Witch’s Well first and then Cannonball House before we grab a bite to eat,” Birgir promised. “Good, I’m starving,” Teri said as she slung her purse over her shoulder and snuggled in closer. She sighed loudly enough for him to notice when he draped his arm over her, protecting her from the cold. She enjoyed his company and knew it was mutual. His gray-blue eyes seemed livelier whenever she looked at him, his smile quick, and his touch firm and reassuring. They walked in silence through the crowd as the Royal Mile narrowed and climbed toward the castle. Teri couldn’t keep herself from thinking about the scar on his back. She had lost her mother, which was difficult, but she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to lose both of his parents and become a ward of the state. From what he had said, she gathered that he and his brothers had been split up. “Woot are ye hungry for, Selkie? Greasy bar food or something of sustenance?” “Sustenance. If we’re going to Craig’s bar at the end of the night, I need something to soak up all the whisky.” Not a minute later, Teri dragged Birgir into Deacon Brodie Tavern so that she could read the plaque. The tavern was named for an infamous gent, a cabinetmaker by day and thief by night that supposedly survived execution by hanging and fled to Paris. “Here’s to escaping one life and leading another,” Teri said, lifting her shot of whisky. “And to gambling.” “And a plaque with your name on it in two hundred years,” Birgir added. By the time they exited onto Lawnmarket it was too dark to see the cannon imbedded in the wall of the famous Cannonball House. Shivering as the winds picked up, they walked to St. Giles Street and found a little bistro bustling with university students tapping away on their laptops and chatting into cell phones. Across the street was the tavern where Craig worked. The marquee sign showed that a folk singer was performing in the adjacent club, and they could hear the music through the open side door. It was no one they had heard of, but the line stretched well past the tavern entrance.

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“This is like crack to someone on a twelve-step program,” Teri remarked once they seated themselves in a moody corner complete with overstuffed armchairs, a faux fireplace and leather-bound books. The air smelled like peppermint chai and reverberated with cappuccino machines whirring above the smooth jazz tones. “Is the technology sending you into withdrawal?” Birgir asked as he scanned the room lit by the glow of notebook screens. “Yeah, but I should still check my messages to see if anyone in my family called.” Teri said as she leaned over and dug into her purse. A spunky waitress in high-heeled boots and a pleather miniskirt brought their drinks before trotting away. She promised that their food would be out shortly, allowing Teri a moment to listen to her voicemail. “I’ll give ye some privacy and see how crowded it is across the street,” Birgir said as he rose and headed toward the door. ***** It started to drizzle as Birgir exited the bistro and trotted across the busy street. Several people blocking the tavern door moved when they saw him approach, and with a nod he thanked them and ducked through the doorway, greeted by the smell of smoke and beers on tap. Craig noticed Birgir and motioned him toward the bar. “Your friend was back,” Craig said as he leaned over the bar. “He left not two minutes ago, mate.” Birgir glanced around, suppressing a shiver. “Thanks,” he said before tapping his knuckles on the bar. “Where’s Teri?” “Across the street. She’s checking her messages.” “How much longer is she in town?” “Another day or two,” Birgir mumbled, distracted by his thoughts. Instinct drew his hand to the amulet, and as his finger brushed over the stone he shivered again. “She’s cute.” With a nod, Birgir turned away. “How’s the band playing tonight?” he shouted over his shoulder. “She sounds as good as she looks,” Craig winked before Birgir struggled through the bar and onto the street. ***** “Is this seat taken?” Teri glanced up after listening to the single message from her father. “Yeah, I—” “Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?” The handsome, dark-haired stranger eased into Birgir’s seat and smiled, flashing a row of straight white teeth. Pulling her purse into her lap, Teri looked toward the door for Birgir, avoiding eye contact with the nameless stranger. “I mean no harm,” the man said, extending his hand. “I just noticed you had an American accent. I’m also traveling abroad.” Attempting to be cordial, she shook his hand and then reached for her cup of tea.

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“Has anyone ever told you that you have very beautiful eyes, Teri?” She shook her head. “No, but thanks.” “Beautiful but sad, as though you’ve witnessed much tragedy.” Teri looked at him again, her gaze drawn to his dark eyes. Though his voice was soft and his manner gentle, his eyes were piercing. Yet, they lacked expression. It was too dark to see their exact color, but from where she sat Teri thought they were black. Deep, black eyes like an abyss. “Not really,” she said, checking the door for Birgir. “Do you take after your mother?” With a wry smile, she glanced at him again. “My mother passed away.” His face formed a sympathetic frown. “How terrible. No wonder you look so sad. If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you?” “Thirteen.” “I bet you look just like her.” Teri nodded. “That’s what my dad says.” “I should be on my way before your husband returns,” he said, his eyes flashing to her left hand. “Or whoever has the pleasure of your company.” “I’m waiting for a friend,” she said, wincing at how obtuse her words sounded. Was that what he was? A fuck buddy? Rising to his feet, the man brushed his hand over hers one last time. His skin felt cool, and a shudder ran down her spine in response. “I’m afraid I must be on my way. I’ve been searching for a friend all day. It was nice meeting you.” “Same to you.” She paused, realizing that she didn’t know his name but he had known hers. ***** “Birgir?” a male voice called through the crowd. Stopping in the middle, Birgir glanced through the constantly moving sea of faces, his hand shading his eyes from the steady rain. He searched until a hand clapped him on the back, startling him. “There you are. How are you? Did Craig give you my message?” Turning, Birgir stared at the shorter, dark-haired man nodding toward the curb where people were waiting for cars to pass. Glancing ahead, he walked with the man. “Craig said someone was looking for ma,” Birgir responded. “Yes, I’ve been searching for weeks, really. It’s good to finally see you again.” “Why are you looking for ma?” The man frowned as they stood away from the Edinburgh bustle. “Because we’re family. I’ve been attempting to contact members of my family. Sort of a…what do they call it? A network, I suppose.” Birgir straightened. His heart was hammering in his chest, though he didn’t understand why he had such a deep sense of consternation. He knew of his brothers for certain—and he recalled many other branches extending from his family tree, but the details were mere static in his mind. This man, however, looked vaguely familiar. “Woot’s your name again?”

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“Al Holder.” Birgir’s eyes narrowed. “Alaric?” With an easy smile, Alaric nodded. “You do remember me. I was afraid our childhood rivalries would cause us grief, my cousin, but I should have known your father was right. You are forgiving and admirable. You always were the most easygoing.” “My father?” “He spent many years searching for you, but he eventually gave up,” Alaric said, giving Birgir a sympathetic nod. “I refused to give up, Birgir. We’re family. Nothing should stand between family.” “Where is he?” Alaric motioned for them to cross the street, which Birgir did without question. “I believe he is with the rest of your brothers. Surely you knew this, did you not?” Birgir shook his head. He didn’t know anything about his brothers, but he wondered and waited to hear from them, to know that they were all alive and well. He imagined Erik with a family and Kaelon and Alekandar still friendly rivals. “I haven’t seen them in years.” “They haven’t looked for you?” Alaric asked, sounding astonished. “Your brothers haven’t attempted to contact you over the years?” With his lips parted, Birgir shook his head. His heart twisted as visions of his grown brothers swam through his thoughts. Seeing Alaric made Birgir realize how much he missed the life fading from his memory. “Your brother Erik owns horses, which should come as no surprise. I always thought the two of you were close.” “We are. We were,” Birgir corrected himself. Alaric paused, a deep frown of sympathy gracing his visage. “Why don’t we arrange something, Birgir? We could catch up on old times, and I could give you all the information you need to know about your father and brothers.” Alaric said jovially. “I want to know how to contact them.” With a Cheshire grin, Alaric patted Birgir on the back once more. “We could arrange that for you, Cousin. It was good seeing you again, Birgir. My father will be pleased to know I’ve found you.” Birgir nodded, ignoring the tightness in his stomach and the warning in his mind. ***** After a half-hour of screaming over the folk singer, Birgir and Territory said goodbye to Craig and called it a night. The rain had almost stopped, and dense fog had cloaked the streets by the time they reached her car. Teri unlocked the doors before Birgir grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, smelling whisky on his breath melded with his own masculine scent. Her hands reached beneath his cloak and balled around his shirt, his large frame reassuring in the vast night. “I found ma cousin before I returned tae the bistro,” he said, his voice rumbling against her ear through his chest. “That’s great,” Teri replied. She felt him nod. “He kens where ma brothers are living.”

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Sensing the excitement in his soft words, Teri squeezed him tighter. “I’m happy for you.” With a shiver, Teri jumped into her car and Birgir followed. He reached for her hand before she turned the key in the ignition. “Woot happens now?” “Come back to my hotel with me and spend the night,” she murmured. Lifting her chin, he leaned in and kissed her softly. In silence he searched her eyes, and Teri noticed that his gaze was filled with apprehension and a tinge of sadness. “And tomorrow?” His sullen words weakened Territory’s knees. Each moment they spent together would make leaving all the more heartbreaking. She forced a half-smile and squeezed his hand briefly before starting her car.

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Chapter Eleven Once Territory stepped out of the shower and slipped into her robe, she found Birgir sitting by the hotel room computer with a large rectangular box in hand. “Found the Edinburgh edition of Monopoly, eh?” she asked. “I saw that in the hotel brochure.” “You’ve heard of it?” She took her hair down from the fluffy towel and turned to glance at him. “Of course. You’ve never heard of Monopoly?” He shook his head and opened the box, spilling out pink and green money as well as the property cards. With a chuckle she helped him recover all the pieces strewn across the floor. “You wanna play for a while? I lose pretty quickly at this game.” While Teri set up the board on the bed, she explained the rules of the game. Taking the horse and rider as her own, she gave Birgir the top hat. “Woot if I dinnae want tae be a bloody top hat? Woot if I wanted tae be an iron? Or the dog?” “Then be an iron or a dog,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Quit making this difficult.” Birgir owned Scottish Parliament and Royal Yacht Britannia before his first time around the board, while Teri ended up paying bills and getting out of jail. Once he knew what he was doing, Birgir exchanged his houses for hotels and bankrupted Teri, for which he apologized and asked if he could loan her money. With a playful sigh of exasperation, she collapsed on the bed. “We would be here forever if that were allowed.” Birgir slid everything into the box and set it on the floor before purposely flopping onto the bed beside her. She was airborne for a split second and yelped in surprise until Birgir wrapped his arm around her and nipped at her neck. “That was fun,” he said, kissing her behind the ear. “A little pointless, but fun.” “Yeah, I used to love playing that when I was a kid. We used to cheat like hell, though, and keep the game going for a few days until my mom or dad stepped on one of the pieces and made us put it away.” Inhaling, Teri turned to him and smiled. “What did you do for fun?” “Watched rivers,” he answered. “And followed the deer trails.”

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“Hunting?” she asked warily. Birgir placed his hand on her stomach and shook his head. “Never interested ma much. Ma older brother was a hunter, I was more…” “Gatherer?” He chuckled. “Of rocks and trouble.” Turning onto her stomach, Teri cupped her chin in her palms. “You? Trouble? I don’t believe it.” “Oh, aye. I cut ma own switch on several occasions and gave it tae ma mother. Of course, I always talked ma way out of a beating,” he grinned as he drew circles on the small of her back with the pads of his fingers. “What were you doing?” Teri felt him give her robe’s belt a hearty tug. “Nothing,” he murmured as his hand traveled up the back of her leg. His unexpected touch made her toes curl in delight. Her back arched in response as his hand passed over the roundness of her bottom and along her hips. Her breaths deepened and she turned to her side, reaching for his shirt. “Wait,” Birgir whispered. He drew the terrycloth robe back from her shoulder and ran his lips along her smooth, sensitive skin. Inhaling her scent, he kissed her neck and nuzzled her with his soft whiskers. A soft sigh escaped past her lips as she inched closer, wanting desperately to feel the heat of his body against her skin. She struggled again to unbutton his trousers, but he rolled onto his stomach and gently pinned her arm to the bed before fully opening her robe. “This isn’t fair,” she breathed as he kissed her between her breasts, making a butterfly trail down to her navel. “Seems fair tae ma,” he said against her belly. His tongue flicked out and tasted her warm, sweet flesh. When she sucked in a breath, he blew cool air onto her bellybutton ring, causing her hips to rise off the bed. Barely able to breath, Teri moved her knees apart and swallowed hard. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Why not?” she asked, and lifted her head from the pillow. He looked up, his finger still tracing around her bellybutton. “Because I want ye tae remember everything ye feel tonight for the rest of your life. Close your eyes.” With a smile Teri ran the backs of her fingers along his cheek and finally obeyed. Birgir ran his fingertips up and down her midsection, allowing his warm hand to brush against her breasts before skimming along her ribs, and down her sides to her hips. He kissed her shoulder and neck as he continued to caress her, his touch becoming firmer as his lips made their way to her breast and his fingers teased between her legs. Birgir stroked her smooth skin, carefully neglecting where she needed him most. Fire raged through her veins, his wordless promises driving her mad with desire. Her body was more than ready to accept his, to feel him move within her and love her like no one else. With her fingers tangled in his hair, Teri coaxed him to meet her lips. “Let me touch you,” she whispered against his kiss. Desire made her frantic, and when she kissed him she rolled onto her side and pressed her torso to his, desperately wanting to feel the outline of his manhood between her legs.

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“You will,” he promised. He rolled onto her and supported his weight on his hands and knees while he kissed her, long and lazy. Urgency ebbed, replaced by languid enjoyment, as they tasted one another. Birgir ran his hand through her hair and whispered to her, murmurs of how he loved the way her hair smelled, or how soft her shoulder felt against his lips. He told her how he searched for her in the water and the relief he felt when he pulled her from the ocean. “I stole ye back from Aegir,” Birgir said against her throat. “His greatest treasure.” Territory couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She was barely able to remove his trousers and rip open a foil packet when she felt him there, lingering against her center. She stared into his eyes as he pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “I think I did the worst thing possible,” he said before his mouth closed over hers. Teri locked her legs around his waist and drove him deep on the first thrust. She felt his restraint, his embrace firm but filled with electricity. He was not going to allow their coupling to be short and feral. He was going to do exactly as he said and have her remember him for as long as she lived. “What’s the worst thing possible?” she breathed as he pulled out completely, leaving her lungs and body empty, needy. Putting his arm beneath her, Birgir continued to kiss her as he filled her again, creating spasms within her body that made her groan. “Falling for ma Selkie,” he said as he thrust harder and grunted. Her body gripped his, pleasure surging through her from head to toe. She wanted him to take her faster, to give her exactly what she knew he could provide. “I want ye tonight,” he said firmly, his hand running up and down her thigh. “And I want tae remember ye always.” Long, slow strokes accompanied by soft flicks of his tongue against her pebbled nipples brought her to a climax that shook her body. She’d never felt anything like it before, so calming yet exhilarating. He held her close as he loved her, surrounding her with his masculine strength while reassuring her with his gentle touch. Sitting up, he brought her into his lap and played with her hair as she mounted him, her legs wrapped around him still. He guided her hips, his eyes locked on hers until she felt herself drawing nearer to climax. “Look at me,” he urged when she began to close her eyes. She lost herself in his gaze, pleasure overwhelming her senses as she rocked slowly against him, the buildup releasing as he lifted his hips to meet hers. Teri still felt him holding back, and as her walls contracted around him, she cupped his face in her hands and ran her thumb along his lower lip. “Come inside me,” she murmured. “I need to feel you.” Birgir positioned Teri on her side and came up behind her. He ran his hand over her breast and along her stomach as he filled her from behind, spooning her. With her legs together he felt bigger than ever and she responded, unable to contain the moan of pleasure that left her mouth. “Does it hurt?” Birgir asked as he stopped and kissed her cheek.

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Teri shook her head, so overwhelmed by the feeling of him that she couldn’t bring herself to speak. His hands wrapped around her stomach, his fingers finding her smooth mound. Fitting so tightly inside of her was his undoing, and as he climaxed he exhaled against the back of her neck and thrust deep into her where he remained. He held her close until she whimpered again, contracting around his arousal. Hearing her cry out brought him to life once more and he turned her to face him, placing her leg over his as he made love to her again, his length renewed with hardness. Their eyes remained locked on one another until they were satisfied and exhausted, lost in each other’s arms. Birgir rested his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. “It was worth falling for a selkie,” he whispered before he lifted his head and kissed her again. They lay tangled together for a long while, touching, kissing, and enjoying the quiet. Teri ran her hand along Birgir’s stomach and thought about the scar from his days of roughhousing with his brothers. “Are you going to tell me what you did when you were little?” she asked. “Woot do ye mean?” he asked. “You said your mom made you cut your own switch. You have to tell me more than that.” Birgir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “There was a cave some distance from our settlement,” he started. “And there was a bear that had a cub. No one paid much mind tae it, but I, of course, wandered near enough to get ma a look.” Teri stayed quiet. She lowered her head to her folded arms and closed her eyes. “They didna mind if I was there. I could watch them for hours, following them tae the streams and deeper into the forest. One time I saw my brother Alekandar watching them from across the river, but he was too busy tracking food to care. He saw me, nodded, and went on his way. Nivver said a word about it.” Teri opened her eyes when she felt him move closer. “The mother trusted ma enough tae allow ma closer tae her cub, which was almost ready tae be on his own. He’d come up tae ma and lick honeycomb from ma hand.” “Isn’t that dangerous?” “Oh, aye. I didna ken why I did it.” With a smile, Teri raked her fingers through his loose hair. “I was crouched by the mouth of their cave, watching through the underbrush as they both lumbered out. They were beautiful up close, so powerful, but nivver intending tae do harm. They just wanted tae stay in the forest and live alone without being bothered.” “What happened?” “I don’t know what happened. The cub was eating berries from a branch it had dragged into the cave when an arrow hit the mother bear right between the eyes. Bounced off her scull, but she didna seem tae notice. She roared and I rose tae ma feet, thinking I could stop whoever was trying tae kill them, but I nivver saw anyone. When it was over, the cub had an arrow in one eye and another through the throat. He’d run out of the cave to protect his mum.” Teri grunted in sympathy. “That’s terrible.”

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“He wasn’t going tae survive, not with how he was bleeding from the neck. If I left him, there was a chance that he wouldna bleed tae death, but infection would spread and he would die in several days. I waited until the mother calmed down a bit before I approached her.” He paused for a long while and Teri rested her chin on his chest. “What did you do?” she whispered. Birgir shook his head. “Tell me,” she begged, kissing his chest. “I told her that her son was suffering and drew a knife. She turned away and I put him down, as they say. I nivver saw her again after that, but I kept his hide.” “The cloak?” she questioned, though she knew the answer. “It seemed like a waste tae allow a brave animal tae return tae the earth and be forgotten. Fierceness, loyalty, strength…I feel his heart each time I wear his fur. He’s still alive tae me.” “You never found out who it was? The person who shot at the bears?” “They were arrows from ma brother. It wasn’t him. I ken it wasn’t. None of ma brothers would make an animal suffer, and none of them would attack a bear minding his own.” Teri closed her eyes again and listened to Birgir breathe for a long while after he finished his story. When she could no longer fight sleep, she whispered to him, “Do you know what I think, Birgir?” “Woot do ye think, Selkie?” “I think you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

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Chapter Twelve With one touch he knew her weaknesses. Afraid of centipedes. Refuses to step on man holes or grates on sidewalks. Never drives five miles an hour over the speed limit. The last one was on account of her mother. When Alaric closed his eyes, he could see the headlines in the papers, the reports on television, and a bewildered father clinging to his teenage children. Alaric fed off her insecurities and honed in on Territory Heather Hail, age twenty-eight, oldest of two children. Taking a breath, he released her from his memory and once again found the energy he was pursuing. The amulet pulsed in the air, unheeded by mere mortals. It was close, three floors up in the Scotsman Hotel. Several hours ago, he had felt the life force radiating from the stone and metal hidden beneath his cousin’s shirt and fur cloak. His cell phone chirped, and as he sat back and crossed his long legs, he answered it. “Well?” “He’s with a woman.” Alaric smiled to himself, sensing the indignation in his father’s silence. “I know all about her.” “Have you seen him?” Alaric’s dark eyes scanned the lobby. “No,” he assured Holdar. “But there is a storm approaching.” “Do it now,” his father instructed. “Before your opportunity is lost.” Without another word, Alaric ended the call and dialed the Scotsman Hotel. He saw the young woman at the desk look away from her computer screen and answer the phone. “My name is Brian Hail,” he said. “I’m calling for one of your guests. Could you please give her a message for me?” ***** Territory woke to the sound of rain pelting the windows. Stretching, she turned over and faced Birgir, who was lying on his belly deep asleep. His hand fell off her hip and briefly woke him, though his eyes weren’t ready to stay open. After he mumbled something incoherent, he turned onto his side and drew her close enough so that she felt his erection against her stomach. With a deep breath, he dozed off again. She chuckled to herself and kissed his nose.

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“Until you, the only orgasms I ever had came from something run on batteries,” she whispered as her finger traced the amulet. He grunted and shifted in his sleep, which tore the necklace from her grasp. The leather was too weak from where the bale was wearing away at the material and the leather gave. “Shit,” she mumbled. “Birgir, wake up.” Another grunt and he ran his hand up her back before he rolled over. “Sleep, Selkie,” he exhaled. Kissing his shoulder, Teri removed the cord from around Birgir’s neck. She covered him with the comforter and slid out of bed to retrieve her sweater and repair the necklace. Birgir was quite possibly the most warm-blooded person she had ever encountered, and the moment she was no longer snuggled up beside him she shivered. All of her nights would be colder once she returned home. “Waxing poetic,” she said under her breath with a smirk. Clearly, Birgir had her tied up in knots. She knew without a doubt that she could lie next to him in bed and listen to him—among other things—for the rest of her life. Wiping a tear from her eye, she turned away from the bed and sniffled. She stared at the silver pendent in her fist and felt her lip quiver. This was ridiculous. She wanted a simple fling, not a tragic romance. There she was getting flummoxed again! This was supposed to be easy. Go to a foreign country where she would never run into anyone she knew, get laid, and return home a seasoned traveler. There wasn’t supposed to be the most perfect man she’d ever been with snoring softly. There was supposed to be a cute, possibly above-average stranger sneaking out of her hotel room, not the nearest thing to a Norse god spending the night. In the middle of her silent rant, the hotel phone started blinking. She padded across the floor and squinted in the dark at the directions for retrieving her voicemail. While she punched in the numbers, she tried to calculate what time it was in the Midwest. Her best guess was about eight in the evening, the perfect time for her dad to forget the time difference and return her call. “Miss Hail, I have a message for you from a Brian Hail. There’s been an accident involving Edward. Brian would like you to please catch the next flight back home. The number he left for you to contact him is…” Teri dropped the phone back on the cradle and shimmied into her jeans and a t-shirt. Her hands shook as she grabbed Birgir’s shoulder and woke him. “I have to go,” she said, her voice trembling. “I have to get to the airport.” Her words roused him at once and he sat up in bed. “Woot? Why?” Teri zipped up her suitcase and slung her purse over her shoulder. “My brother left a message. My dad’s been in some sort of accident.” Birgir was wide-awake once she finished speaking. “I’ll go with ye tae the airport.” “There’s no time. I have to go.” “Teri—” Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry. I really have to go.” And just like that she was out the door, her suitcase nearly tripping her as she ran for the elevator.

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Chapter Thirteen Territory frantically hit speed dial as the elevator made its slow descent to the lobby. Her battery was almost dead and her phone wasn’t getting a strong enough signal, which meant she lost the calls to her brother before they went through. Worse case scenarios buzzed through her mind and she started to cry again. Not knowing what was happening along with being on the other side of the Atlantic left her unable to think straight. Once the elevator doors opened, she bolted into the lobby, frantically told the girl her name, and asked for the valet to bring her car around. With a sympathetic nod, the woman told her she could wait in the vestibule for her vehicle. Teri dragged her suitcase through the lobby and kept her eyes on her phone. Her fingers were trembling so badly that it was impossible to punch in the correct numbers. With a sigh of frustration, she realized she was still carrying Birgir’s pendant. Teri decided to mail it back to his store once she returned home. She slipped the amulet into her pocket when her suitcase stopped moving. Turning to check her bag, she felt herself suddenly dragged out the front door. An arm wrapped around her waist and she gasped. Struggling to escape, she fought to scream when a hand covered her mouth. “Not now, sweetheart,” a voice whispered in her ear. ***** Birgir scrambled out of the hotel room in time to see the elevator doors close. Cursing under his breath, he found the stairwell and bolted to the lobby, his belt clanking as he jogged down the stairs. Sliding across the freshly cleaned lobby floor, Birgir righted himself and scanned the main floor. “Have ye seen a young woman,” he asked the woman at the counter. He used his hand to display how tall Teri was and described her in one breath. “She’s waiting for her car,” the woman said as she nodded toward the door. With a nod, Birgir turned and heard Teri scream. He remembered the sound of her panic the night he had pulled her from the water.

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Exiting the hotel, Birgir was immediately greeted by the rain and the taillights of a black vehicle pulling onto the street. Through the back window he saw Teri, her fists beating against the glass. His first instinct was to run after her, but the valet brought Teri’s Renault around. “Warmed up for you, sir,” the valet said once he stepped out. Muttering his thanks, Birgir tipped him and threw the car into drive. He pulled onto North Bridge and hit the gas to catch up to the car weaving across the empty street. He sped up just as a blinding bolt of lightning barred his path and forced him to slam on the breaks. His vehicle lost its traction on the slippery street and screeched into a ninety-degree turn. Glancing over his shoulder, Birgir saw the black car turn the corner. When he turned to face the steering wheel, he was met by the image of a man standing with his hand on the hilt of his sword and a worried look in his eyes. Birgir threw the car door open and stepped into the night. His heart was hammering in his chest as he stood before the red-blonde stranger. Hands balled into fists, Birgir shrugged his cloak over his shoulders and stepped forward. He showed the man blocking his path that he was unarmed but would not back down from a fight. “In your heart you know your quarrel does not lie with me,” the man stated as he nodded to Birgir’s closed fist. “I’ll fight tae the death for her,” Birgir answered. “The body of a bear and a heart of fire still, I see,” the older man stated, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Do you know who I am?” His wariness receded, and Birgir stepped forward to offer his hand. “You’re ma father, Aerik, son of Thor…I never thought I would see you again.” Drawing him into an embrace, Aerik thumped his hand against Birgir’s back. “A woman, you say? Does she possess the amulet?” Trepidation filled Birgir’s eyes as he nodded. “She’s been taken. The car…I’ve lost sight of her,” he said. Bowing his head, Birgir exhaled. “I should be more concerned about the pendant, shouldn’t I?” “What relation is this woman to you?” his father questioned as he gestured toward the car and they both entered. “She is meant tae be mine,” Birgir answered. With a faint smile, Aerik sat back and closed his eyes. He ran his hand along his red beard and nodded. “The energy is near,” he said. Without opening his eyes, he pointed toward the sea. “Follow it, my son.” ***** As much as she fought him, Alaric easily overpowered Teri in the back of the car and swiftly gagged her with a cloth and rope. He bound her wrists with duct tape, did the same to her wriggling feet at the ankles, and pulled her from the car and into the bitterly cold rain. She continued to fight him as he dragged her toward the sound of waves hidden in the night, her knees and shins battered by pavement that soon turned to buckled wood. Hefting her under the arms, he attempted to deposit her into a waiting boat, but she lowered and bent her legs to push herself back. Gaining momentum, she knocked her captor off-balance, rolled

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over him, and wriggled away on her sore knees and bound hands. Despite her best efforts, she knew that the only thing she gained was a few more seconds of life. Alaric grabbed her by the feet and yanked her back toward the boat. Her face hit the pier and she screamed against the gag. Once he turned her onto her back, he stood over her and held his outstretched hand inches from her face. Lightning flashed within the clouds and she noticed for the first time that she had clawed him across his cheek. A jagged, bloody trail had formed down to his neck. “I have no qualms about drawing your lover to your corpse, woman,” he said through his teeth as he grabbed a handful of her hair and brought something cold and sharp to her neck. “Thank you, my dear, for putting on such a lovely show when we left your hotel.” Teri drew in a sharp breath, her eyes bulging and feet kicking in vain to escape the knife’s edge against her throat. The blade slid across her sensitive flesh and drew blood, which paralyzed her with the reality of her fate. “He will come for you, won’t he?” Alaric asked. She screamed against her gag, and without warning, the hand clutching her hair loosened and she heard her captor inhale deeply. “The stone,” he whispered. “Ah, I feel it now.” He wrenched her head back and forced her to look into his soulless, coal-black eyes. Tugging on her gag, he loosened it enough to allow her to whimper. She saw the pleasure in his gaze as tears stung her eyes. “Give me the amulet,” he shouted over the roll of thunder. With a murderous glare, he threw her backward, sending the back of her skull against the wet wood. Stars and dark blotches danced through her vision, but through her haze she heard an inhuman growl followed by a roar of anger and her attacker being thrown to the ground.

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Chapter Fourteen With a feral growl, Birgir lunged at Alaric, nearly toppling him from the pier. Leaner and more nimble, Alaric rolled away and regained his footing. “We are family,” Birgir panted as he glared at his cousin. Alaric grinned, turning his wrist as he casually examined the dagger in his hand. “Ah, yes, but it seems, dear cousin, that our blood ties have turned anemic.” “Why?” Birgir demanded through his teeth. “Why would ye betray ma?” Alaric charged at Birgir, who caught him by the arm and threw him to the ground. Sharp pain made Birgir step back, and when he did he felt the warmth of blood spilling from his freshly wounded shin. Behind him, Teri struggled against her binds while Aerik attempted to free her from her gag. “Get her out of here,” Birgir said to his father before he turned his gaze to Teri. He saw the bloodstain on her neck and his mood darkened, anger filling him like nothing he had felt before. Their eyes met briefly in darkness before Birgir turned to face Alaric. “Give me the stone,” Alaric demanded. Though his voice was stern, his eyes were fearful. “If your animosity lies with ma, then so be it, but ye will not hurt her.” “Then give me the stone and she is free.” Birgir shook his head. In a single heartbeat, he saw through Alaric and recalled the attack on his settlement. He still remembered the black smoke rising from what was once their home, the shrill cries that filled the air. He remembered the fear of not knowing who was alive and who was dead—and never knowing who lived and who perished. At last Birgir remembered traveling through the fabric of time to a place deemed safer. He had asked his brother Erik where they were going and what would become of everything they knew. Offering no verbal answer, Erik had merely placed his hand on Birgir’s shoulder. “Who would attack us?” Birgir questioned. Birgir considered Erik to be the wisest person he knew, though Erik was only nine months older than he. “Uncle Holdar,” Erik mumbled under his breath. “For Alaric’s honor and promised bride.”

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It was then that Birgir glared at Alaric through the rain and remembered the troublemaker and tormenter of his youth, the product of a jealous man and the goddess of the underworld. He knew what he had to do. Alaric stalked around the pier heading in the direction of Aerik, who was cradling Teri in his arms. “Each heartbeat brings her closer to death,” Alaric announced. He threw his dagger in the air and caught the guard in his hand, smiling in satisfaction of his boastful display. Birgir kept his eyes narrowed and trained on his cousin. “Woot’s that supposed to mean?” Alaric’s thin lips formed a wider smile as he reached into his coat pocket and produced a small vial. “I’ve traveled the world searching for you and your brothers, Birgir, and I’ve come across some fascinating items. Have you heard of ourari? The common name is curare, and this blade was coated in it.” Birgir glanced over his shoulder at Teri, who was clinging to Aerik. She appeared dazed from hitting her head, but Birgir saw no indication that she was being poisoned. He had no idea, however, how long it would take before it affected her. “You won’t smell or taste anything, but trust me, dear cousin, it does work.” When Birgir turned to face his cousin, he found Alaric had slithered nearer. “You’re bluffing.” Alaric ignored Birgir’s words as he continued to walk toward Teri. “Only time will tell if I am indeed bluffing. You see, curare paralyzes the muscles. South American Indians have used curare for centuries in hunting both game and trespassers. It’s quite effective, I’ve heard.” Birgir grit his teeth, a murderous look in his eyes. “When curare spreads through the bloodstream, the lungs shut down and in turn, the heart is deprived of oxygen. You know they say that death by suffocation is horrifying. Imagine not being able to breathe. It would cause immense suffering. Fortunately for you, this vial contains the antidote.” “I will heal her,” Birgir said, his voice a low growl. He knew he could save her just as he had the last time. Alaric raised his chin. “Ah, yes, the grandson of a god rescuing the mortal. Have you forgotten, Birgir? You could very well save her life, but what happens to yours? Will you be able to survive? We both know you haven’t enough strength, regardless of your pedigree. You are able to heal, yes, but there are consequences to your unnatural gifts.” Strutting about, Alaric kept his eyes trained on Birgir. “I remember when Erik was stabbed in the side. Who was to blame for that one? Kaelon, wasn’t it? Sliced him so bad that the skin flapped over, but who was there to rescue him? How long did you feel his pain, Birgir?” Birgir made no remark. He recalled the swordfight that had taken place months after he had crossed the threshold between childhood and manhood. It was the first time he had realized he had an ability no one else possessed. Instinctively, he had covered Erik’s laceration with the palm of his hand and the injury had healed itself. The only indication that there had

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been bloodshed was a crimson puddle that puzzled their mother and left them all with words of warning and Birgir with tremendous pain throbbing along his hip. But when Birgir had rescued Teri from the ocean, he should have felt her cold and her bruises, but he had experienced little more than lethargy. He had been unafraid to feel pain for her or for his family. “That’s why you couldn’t save the bear cub, isn’t it? You filthy coward. You couldn’t tolerate the pain.” “It was you,” Birgir said under his breath. His face burned with rage. “Of course it was me.” “I couldn’t help the beast because I didn’t know how, not because of cowardice. Who are you tae name ma a coward when ye shot him and didna show your face?” Alaric’s arms rose from his sides. “Avenge the bear and the woman.” Livid, Birgir stormed forward, but Alaric shook his head. Still fearing for Teri’s life, Birgir came to a halt just out of arm’s reach from his unscrupulous cousin. “I know you well, Birgir. You won’t take chances with the woman’s life. Give me the amulet and I will give you the antidote,” Alaric cajoled. “That is my offer, dear cousin. Accept it or watch her die—or be fool enough to kill yourself.” Birgir straightened and his hands balled into tight fists. His nostrils flared as he lunged for Alaric, who leapt back and landed on the balls of his feet. The smile remained on his face as he loped a safe distance away. “You’re wasting her life and my time,” Alaric said over his shoulder. He pointed at Teri with the tip of his blade. “Is she worth it, Cousin?” “If anything happens to her, by the Aesir in Asgard,” Birgir seethed. “I’ll tear your guts out and feed them to you.” Birgir ran forward, his eyes set on the vial of antidote. He barely heard Teri shouting to him as Alaric leapt onto his waiting boat and threw the vial into the ocean. “Birgir, don’t!” Teri yelled as she escaped Aerik’s grasp and wobbled toward Birgir and Alaric. “Don’t listen to him.” Turning on his heel, Birgir caught Teri in his arms as she collapsed. The back of her head was wet and sticky from her injury, but she was otherwise unharmed. He kept his hand over her wound, transferring his strength to her. “He cut you,” Birgir said as he lifted her chin and ran his finger along her throat. Before Teri could reply, Aerik bellowed a thunderous battle cry and sprinted forward, his broadsword in both hands. Holding onto Teri, Birgir glanced over his shoulder in time to find Alaric suddenly upon him. With both arms around Teri, his protective efforts were met with a sharp, white-hot pain that filled his side and tore through his abdomen. ***** Territory was unaware of the boat speeding off into the open waters or Aerik standing helplessly at the end of the pier, unable to catch his malevolent nephew. Her attention and heartache were with Birgir who lay on the rain-soaked pier with his knees drawn up to his stomach. His massive hands covered the wound where his cousin’s dagger had impaled him, blood escaping through his fingers. Grasping his wrists, Teri attempted to tug his hands away from the injury.

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“This is my fault,” she whispered as she knelt beside him. Her voice trembled, as did her hands as she uncovered Birgir’s wounded abdomen. His shirt was torn, the fabric gaping open to display his injury in the faint pier light. Teri closed her eyes and shuddered at the gore. Birgir grasped her hand and shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Selkie. I shouldna let ye leave the hotel.” Teri pursed her lips and felt her tears freely falling down her cheeks. She squeezed his hand tighter and felt his grip loosen. He was bleeding out, she knew. The knife had either stabbed through or grazed an artery. Aerik’s shadow loomed over their bodies. Teri looked up as Aerik knelt beside his son and examined the deep wound. His expression was grim, his heartache evident in his clear blue eyes. “Where is the amulet?” Aerik asked, his eyes steady on Teri. She reached a trembling, bloodstained hand into her jeans’ pocket and handed Aerik the silver hammer, and he immediately pressed it into Birgir’s palm. “It doesn’t matter,” Birgir said, his voice low and breathing labored. “I cannae heal myself.” “Wh-what?” Teri stuttered. Birgir’s eyes fixed on her face. He offered her little more than a weak smile before his grasp on the amulet loosened and it fell onto his chest. Teri turned to Aerik. “Let me try,” she said. He nodded in silence and rose to his feet. Her fingers were stiff and numb as she snatched up the amulet and sat on the wet ground beside Birgir. Leaning forward, she kissed his cold, pale lips and whispered to him, “Stay with me.” His breaths were shallow, but he returned the kiss and held his hand against her back. Every passing second was becoming a more difficult fight, and when his eyes closed, Teri feared that she had lost him. Heedless of the cold, Teri lay beside Birgir and draped his bearskin cloak over their bodies. She could see his faint breaths rolling in little wisps of steam from his parted lips as she grasped his hand and slid the amulet between their palms. She didn’t know why she did it, but the moment their hands surrounded the metal and stone, she felt an unfamiliar energy spreading in tendrils through her flesh and into Birgir’s. Her eyes closed, the sensation becoming uncomfortable. She heard Birgir exhale hard and felt her mind being pulled into darkness. The very edges of her vision wavered with light, and her mind was filled with the memory of the first time she saw him as she clung to a rock. Each pulse of their lives exchanged through the stone’s power flickered through her mind and into her consciousness. She felt him inside of her, his blood as her blood, his love as her love, his life as her own. The discomfort subsided and was replaced by ecstasy. She felt the warmth of his hands against hers, the taste of his lips, the joy of their coupling and the pleasure of their mutual satisfaction. Night and sky, rain and cold, fear and pain no longer existed. Teri had no idea if she lived or died. She knew for certain that they had become inseparable, their lives and love joined. Nothing else mattered.

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Chapter Fifteen For two days Birgir watched Teri sleep. Aerik had helped carry her into Birgir’s rowboat and had taken them to the little island in Mortimer’s Deep. Once he was certain that both Teri and Birgir were gaining strength, Aerik said farewell to his son. He had business elsewhere, namely his half-brother, who was still stalking somewhere out of sight. “Do you think Alaric will return here?” Birgir asked. Aerik stroked his beard. “It is doubtful, my son. You have proven your loyalty as much as he has proven his cowardice.” He paused, frowning. “You are not the one he seeks, Birgir. It is Kaelon he wishes to destroy.” Birgir placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I should have killed him.” With a half-smile, Aerik shrugged. “Have faith in your eldest brother.” Their time together was short, Birgir realized. “When will you return?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Aerik’s forlorn answer came as his eyes lowered. Birgir dreaded the worst, and as they stood before one another in silence, there was no need to confirm that father and son may never meet again. “Erik is searching for you,” Aerik said as they walked outside and stood beneath the predawn light. “He lives on a place called a ranch in the land of Texas.” Birgir had heard of Texas, but he didn’t know where it was or how he would get there. “How is he?” Birgir questioned. “A beautiful wife and twins,” Aerik answered. “And, naturally, horses,” he added. “It will come as no surprise that you’ve made your home on an island.” Birgir smiled, a sense of contentment filling him now that he knew the fate of his older brother. “I will find him,” Birgir vowed. They clasped hands and Birgir passed the amulet to his father. “We will all be together again, won’t we?” Aerik nodded. “If not in this lifetime, then the next,” he replied before a bolt of lightning delivered him anew. Once Aerik was gone, Birgir returned indoors and added more fuel to the fire. He found Teri still sound asleep, her complexion still sallow but a peaceful visage gracing her oval face. Removing his cloak, he draped it over her to keep her warm before retrieving a bottle of water and climbing into bed beside her.

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Birgir checked the wound on her side, the injury that matched his own, and kissed her forehead. “Ye shouldna risked yourself,” he whispered as he smoothed her hair back from her face. Her eyes opened for the first time in over forty-eight hours and she blinked, still groggy from her weakened state. When her eyes focused on his face, she smiled. Birgir noted the pink in her cheeks slowly replacing her ashen coloring, and he sighed in relief. “Risk?” she said weakly, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t risk anything.” Birgir pulled her nearer and savored her warmth and sweet smell. He lay on his uninjured side and brushed his thumb over her cheek, grateful to look into her dark eyes again. “You risked your life, Selkie,” he said. Teri inched herself closer and buried her face against his chest. She kissed him where the amulet had hung for as long as he could remember. “You are my life,” she murmured. Her hand found his and their fingers entwined. “I know that now.” Birgir brought her knuckles to his lips. He had felt every part of her inside of him the last time their hands had joined. They were marked, both bearing a scar that bound them, yet he knew that her home was thousands of miles away. “How are ye feeling?” he asked. “A little tired and thirsty.” Birgir helped Teri to sit up and handed her the water bottle, which she gulped down. “Easy, Selkie,” he grinned. “I’ve noticed ye and the water don’t agree.” She gazed at him briefly before planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know why or how, but I just…I understand.” Her eyes turned to the bear cloak and then back at him. “Your selkie skin,” she smiled. Birgir nodded. He clasped her hand between both of his and felt more joined to her than he had ever felt before. “I give it tae ye freely.” Teri gathered up most of it in her hands and placed it onto his lap. She shook her head. “I don’t want it.” His brow furrowed and face straightened until Teri sat on her knees and linked her arms around his neck. Her fingers slid under his collar as her lips pressed to his. “The cloak is important to you, Birgir. I can’t take it from you, but I want something that’s special to me.” Birgir placed his hands on her hips and deepened the kiss, tasting her familiar lips. She ran her fingers through his hair before he pulled back and searched her eyes. “Woot do ye want, Selkie? Anything in the world, and I’ll give it tae ye.” “I want you,” she whispered as he lay her down and prepared to spend the remainder of the day in bed. “I want you to come with me.” Birgir paused as he knelt over her. “Where?” “Minnesota,” she answered. He kissed her neck and felt her back arch to his caress. “How far is Minnesota from Texas?”

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Teri chuckled, and Birgir wasn’t sure if his goatee against her stomach had tickled her or if she found his words amusing. Lifting his head, he rested his chin on her abdomen and waited for her to answer. “What’s in Texas?” “Ma older brother, Erik, lives there with his wife and children on a ranch.” With both arms around his neck, Teri drew Birgir to her. “It’s closer than Scotland,” she murmured. ***** Craig promised to keep an eye on Birgir’s store while he searched for his brother in the States. “Ye realize I may not return?” Birgir questioned over a final whisky in the little pub. Teri sat beside him on a barstool, her hands concealed beneath her long sleeves. “If you didna return, I’d send all of your shite cargo tae…where are ye going again? Minnesota?” “Aye, Minnesota.” Teri chuckled at their pronunciation. Birgir shot her a playful warning glance, and Craig rolled his eyes. “Go find a dark corner,” he said as he walked around the bar and shook Birgir’s hand. Craig had his eyes set on Territory, whom he considered the better looking of the two, but Birgir pulled him in and clapped him hard on the back. “Thanks,” Birgir said. Craig feigned coughing before he bear-hugged Teri. “Ye watch him now, lass. Feed him, bathe him, and for God’s sake, clothe him at all times.” “Yes, yes and no,” she grinned before she and Birgir headed out of the tavern and to the train station. ***** “I think you’ll like the plane ride,” Teri commented as the train approached the airport. She sat with her hand in Birgir’s and attempted to calm the anxiety etched into his face. Having flown all of her life, it came as second nature to her, but she sympathized with Birgir. His first time on a plane would be flying over the Atlantic, changing planes in New York and then traveling to Minnesota. Once there, they would find information about his brother and travel to Texas. She’d promised to be with him every step of the way. “It’s only thousands of feet above the earth’s surface in a giant metal object filled with a hundred other travelers,” he said as he gazed out the window. “I’d just as soon take a bird.” “Are you nervous?” she whispered. Birgir looked down at her. “Woot do ye think I am, Selkie?” “Nervous,” she grinned. “Aye,” he replied. He held her closer. “But not nervous enough tae turn back.”

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The Viking Stones

Regan’s Ring By

Mikki Leigh

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Chapter One He worked the length of her naked body like a master artisan, expertly using his strong, calloused hands as if they were the exclusive tools of his trade. Lingering at strategic intervals along his path of discovery, he stroked places that had her moaning her approval. She bucked and writhed beneath his thorough explorations, finding pleasure in the way he thumbed her nipples into tight aching knots as her need for him reached new levels of throbbing ecstasy. Once having methodically fondled the sensitive arch of her foot and each curling toe, he started his journey upward again to dally at the juncture between her legs. He gently parted the delicate, moist folds, finding yet another delightful way to make her squirm and moan. Each thick finger took its slow turn stroking her vaginal walls, rubbing and teasing her swollen clit, exploring every sensitized part of her until she begged to be released from his exquisite torture. Just as she was ready to shatter under his devoted ministrations, he stopped, leaving her panting and throbbing, empty and aching. Her eyes glistened in the darkness, brimming with tears of roiling frustration as she reached out to touch him, to find him, to bring him back to finish what he started. She found nothing. “Bastard!” she cried.

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Chapter Two Kaelon floated in and out of a relaxed, dream-like state, his head lolling against feathery soft bedding, wholly supportive yet not entirely solid in its foundation. He had no way of knowing how long he had dangled there, suspended between realms, remembering fragments of his life before this nothingness, this colorless stupor, swallowed him up. Whenever he managed to separate himself from his astral wanderings, he was met with a silence so complete he could not begin to comprehend the totality of it. He focused instead on the shadowy wisps of incomplete forms with vacant faces swirling all around. In place of limbs and torsos there remained the fragrant scents of ancient forests, and the waving heat of summer suns, the rising swells of angry seas, and the biting sting of winter winds. So many memories crowded his thoughts with the clarity of yesterday. His mother, her gentle face etched so deeply in every recollection he knew that nothing could take away the memory of her, nor would he allow it. She would be with him always. And beside her, his father, looming as large and imposing as ever. The memory of him, too, would remain with Kaelon forever. There were others in his family. All brothers as he recalled with a vagueness he found maddening. He closed his eyes and tried to see their faces. One by one they came to him, slowly and not always complete, but he saw them, and he clung to their images with the desperation of a drowning man. Great chunks of time passed with the blink of an eye and he discovered much to his amazement that he had aged. He had turned from a young buck into a great stag all in the time it took for the moon to cycle around him once in this absence of time and place. Under the glow of that same brilliant moon, he glanced at his newly matured body and he grinned at the abundance of new hair he had sprouted in places he had only seen on his father and other males when visiting the sauna house. He had been approaching his eighteenth winter when this happened. Yet now, he appeared to be nearly doubled that, a man closer to the age of his father. His relaxed member lay in a dense thatch of coiling hair even darker than that on his head. It narrowed into a defined line up his belly then fanned across his broadened chest where his silver amulet rested. The metallic luster of the hematite stone positioned in the center reflected the glow of the moon in its polished gray finish.

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His hand moved to clutch the hammer-shaped pendant, his fingers gripping the irregularly angled edges. The strength of the cabochon radiated up his arm and all through his body, settling him with its warmth and calming influence. He could no more hold back the thoughts that flooded his mind than he could stop the rush of a rain-swollen river. What was this strange place that held him? If he were dead, as he first believed, then why did he continue to age and gain knowledge no differently than if he still walked the middle earth? A bolt of blinding light and a crack of deafening thunder shook him from his revelry, and the vision of a woman’s wet, naked body flashed before his startled eyes. Under a crystal spray of a gentle rain, she stood like a shimmering moon goddess, her arms raised above her head to catch the water in cupped palms. Long dark hair flowed across the gentle slope of her shoulders and down her back like a sleek seal pelt, trailing glistening rivulets from their tips over the rounded slope of her bottom. As she turned to redirect the water, he caught a lingering glimpse of ripe pale breasts and thighs so soft and luscious his manhood responded to the scene as any man would. His reaction surprised him and gave him pause to wonder. Perhaps he was not dead after all. The discomfort from having an engorged cock and nowhere to put it caused him to moan and groan. Since his hands and his memories were all he had to work with, he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft and stroked it from head to hilt as he did growing up. He pumped harder, arching his back into his fist with violent thrusts. His memories grew more vivid, more alive, more real than ever before, stirring in him tender recollections of another fair maiden, and the way she had offered her virginity with a shy smile and a doe-eyed look of love so pure and unconditional it tempered his youthful exuberance and turned their first joining into a gentler night of passion. The very thought of her and their first joining carried him closer. It didn’t take long before the climbing ache evolved into a powerful ejaculation. He trembled and cried out under its pulsing force, scattering his seed like glistening milky jewels across the infinitely empty night sky. When the shuddering subsided and his breathing returned to normal, he fell exhausted against the feather-soft pallet. Rolling to his side, he slept, filled with a peacefulness he could not begin to explain but accepted without further question. ***** “The time has come for Kaelon to journey forward.” Odin spoke to the attentive ravens perched on his shoulders. “His memories are still strong,” Muninn squawked. “He holds them close and fights hard against losing them.” The Allfather stroked the raven’s breast with the back of his fingers. “Kaelon is a stubborn one,” he agreed. “He has caused me more worry than all the others combined. His future was not as easy to determine. But I believe he’s finally ready to begin his next life.” Odin pinched a grape from a cluster lying in his lap and offered it to the raven that had not yet voiced his opinion. “Huginn, your silence deafens me. Have you also doubts about Kaelon’s readiness to move on?” The bird cocked his shiny black head and plucked the dark purple fruit from Odin’s outstretched fingers. He crushed the grape in his beak and swallowed the juicy pulp as he thought. “He is ready,” he cawed. “Excellent!” Odin exclaimed. “Let it be done.” He raised his arms high, sending the birds soaring. The draping folds of his robe sleeves billowed and snapped like a longship’s

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unfurled sails, casting tremulous shadows across the glowing opalescence of the moon as he passed his hand over the sleeping form of Aerik’s eldest son.

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Chapter Three Chicago, Illinois Present Day Regan Montgomery glared at the barely touched wedge of triple-berry slathered cheesecake like it was crawling with spiders. If cheesecake couldn’t turn her mood around, she was doomed. “It’s worse than I thought,” she grumbled. Disgusted, she dropped her fork and slumped deeper into the padded red leather booth. Twisting the quarter inch wide silver band wrapped around her right ring finger, she watched the play of light flicker and leap between the convex polished metal and trio of hematite stones. A flashing glint off the center stone was like the quick wink of a teasing eye. “Dream man’s still not getting the job done, eh?” Regan’s nearest and dearest, and the most understated homosexual to ever walk the streets of Chicago, stretched across the table and speared his fork into the abandoned dessert. Shoving the plate closer so he wouldn’t have to reach, she cast him a bleary-eyed look that really didn’t require further explanation. Charles Montoya, better known as Chaz, had been her closest friend and confidant since they had been arranged alphabetically in freshman homeroom. He knew everything there was to know about her, everything worth knowing at least, yet still she hesitated to voice her latest suspicion aloud. It was weird even by her warped and twisted standards. As he scooped a creamy bite of cheesecake into his mouth he expressed a sympathetic shudder at her plight. She raised her gaze, gathering courage from the compassionate face that peered back. Chaz would understand, she reminded herself, because he knew what it was like to be the

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weirdo. Both outcasts, branded pariah for daring to be different in a school where conformity ruled, they formed a bond that transcended the taunts and ostracism. “Hasn’t missed a night in three weeks.” She glanced at her watch, noting how much time she had left before the bewitching hour and motioned to the bartender for another Long Island – her fourth. Chaz studied her with a thoughtful gaze as he chewed the last bite of cheesecake. “So, girlfriend,” he said as he licked the fork tines clean. “You gonna tell me what’s got you hitting the hard stuff or are you gonna make me guess?” He dabbed the corners of his expressive mouth with a napkin-wrapped finger. Regan watched the waitress replace her drained glass and took a long swallow from the fresh one to bolster her flagging courage. The potent combination of tequila, rum, gin, vodka, and Triple sec hit the back of her throat like a jackhammer doing the Irish Jig down the Dan Ryan. She gulped past the urge to barf and glanced around the cozy downtown pub, dismayed to see the commuter bar still packed with patrons so late on a Thursday night. In an effort to keep her response private, Regan leaned forward and whispered, “You don’t think twenty-one straight nights of being deprived the big ‘O’ isn’t enough of a reason?” “You telling me you forgot how to close the deal?” Regan gave a rude snort. “Are you kidding?” she scoffed. “Pulsing Pete and I have been spending so much quality time together I’m ready to send out engagement announcements.” She resisted the urge to reach across the table and shake that damn quirky smirk off his incredibly handsome face. Friends for more than half her life and she still resented the fact that she wasn’t the pretty one in this relationship. “And the worst part in all of this is that’s not the worst part.” Chaz’s perfectly arched brows lifted. “There’s more?” “Yeah, the crazy part.” He waved his palm in protest. “You know the rules, Reg. It ain’t crazy till I say it’s crazy.” Regan held up her hand. “Do you remember when I got this ring?” He nodded. “Sure. I was with you when you found it in that little shop off Michigan Avenue.” “But do you remember when?” “Two, maybe three weeks ago. Why?” He was beginning to look every bit as confused as he sounded. “That’s right. It’s been three weeks,” she confirmed, letting the words marinate before adding, “Exactly twenty-one days ago.” She could see the wheels turning under his sixty-five dollar haircut. It didn’t take him long to make the connection. “Oh, no,” he shook his head and waved a neatly manicured finger against the very idea. “You are not telling me there’s a connection between that ring and those erotic dreams you’ve been having?” “That’s what I love about you, Chaz. You are such a perceptive fellow.” “Congratulations, Regan darlin’. You have finally succeeded in meeting my criteria for crazy.” “Crazy or not, can you think of a better explanation?”

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“Your own highly developed imagination working in warp drive is my guess. You fell for that older-than-dirt shopkeeper’s yarn about the ring’s tragic star-crossed lovers and filled in the blanks. Look, Reg, it’s just a hunk of old metal and a couple of hematite chips. If it bothers you so much, take it off, throw it away, get rid of it.” “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” she exclaimed. “I even went back to that little hole-in-thewall place where I found it – Odin’s Well – to return it.” Scrunching his face in a sympathetic pout, he questioned, “No refunds, no exchanges, huh?” “No store! Gone. Vanished. Like it never existed.” “Come on, Reg. You’ve lived in Chicago long enough to know little shops like that come and go like tourists. It’s all just a colossal coincidence.” “Coincidence, huh? Okay, let’s see you explain this away so easily.” Regan tugged the ring from her finger and held it out for him. He opened his palm and she dropped it in. “Put it in your pocket,” she instructed. He slipped it into his shirt pocket and crossed his arms. “Okay, now what?” Regan folded her hands in her lap, keeping them out of sight under the table. She wasn’t sure it would work under these conditions but she had to give it a try. An icy chill crept up her spine as she felt the ring gradually reappear, as if invisible fingers were slipping it on. Her hand shook as she lifted it from her lap and placed it palm down on the table to stop the trembling. Barking a startled laugh, Chaz slapped his chest and plucked at the now empty shirt pocket. “Nice trick. How’d you do it?” “I have no friggin’ idea,” Regan returned. “All I do know is this ring comes off every night before I go to bed and every morning it’s back on my finger.” She tossed back the remainder of her drink and looked to order another. Chaz managed to stop her as he motioned for their check. “I’m taking you home,” he said. Grabbing her hand he pulled her to her feet. “Right after we make a stop at my place. I’ve got an idea.”

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Chapter Four “Do you really think this is going to work?” Regan sat on the edge of the mattress and cast Chaz a doubtful look as she hugged the red silk kimono around her trembling body. Cherry red polished toes curled into the carpet as she watched Chaz position a chair from her living room next to a tripod holding a state of the art digital video camera aimed at her bed. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” She gave a tipsy giggle. “Tell me again what we’re doing.” “You’re going to bed just like you do every night. Oh, that reminds me – “He held out his hand. “Give me the ring.” She worked harder than usual to get it past her knuckle but it finally broke loose. Handing it to him, she watched him slip it on to his left pinky. “So you think I’m doing this to myself? The ring? The arousal?” “Until proven otherwise, it’s the only explanation I’m comfortable with, Reg. Your work has you dealing with fantasy and make-believe on a daily basis. Is it any wonder you started creating one of those worlds for yourself?” “I’ll take that as a yes.” “You ready?” Chaz asked, pulling one last article from the goody bag he’d brought from his Lincoln Park brownstone. “What are those?” “Night vision goggles,” he answered, holding them up for her inspection. “I don’t even want to know why you happen to own a pair of those,” she said. “These,” he said. “Are for seeing what’s going on when the lights go out. That,” he said pointing to the camera, “Is for you to see what happens after the fact.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. But don’t ever let me find out you’re selling copies of this on eBay.” He gave a wicked laugh and headed for the bedroom door. “Give a holler when you’re settled.” Regan nodded her response and reached to untie the robe’s belt. She shivered as the slippery silk slinked off her shoulders and down her rigid spine. Wearing only the matching sheath gown, she stood and crawled into bed, nestling under the thick down-filled comforter for protection as much as warmth.

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“I’m ready,” she croaked, hoping for the umpteenth time that Chaz was right about all of this. It’d be easier to accept that she was crazy than find out she had an invisible lover visiting her every night. ***** Chaz heard her give a low moaning sigh, the kind a woman, or a man, made when something pleasant was happening to him or her. He reached for the night vision goggles and started the camera. He was hit with the realization that he was witnessing something he had no right to see. In spite of their closer than close friendship, he still found it somewhat disturbing to see his best friend writhing in the throes of obvious sexual arousal. Adding to the surrealistic atmosphere was watching it all transpire under the eerie green glow of the night vision optics. He wanted to look away, leave the room, but couldn’t when he saw what was happening. Her arms never moved from her side, her fingers remained curled and clenched, yet her body reacted as if familiar hands caressed her in the most intimate manner a woman could be caressed. He swore he saw invisible fingertips kneading her breasts through the silky fabric of her gown, leaving fingertip depressions wherever they touched the soft flesh. Her nipples responded and grew taut from the careful attention they received. Then he saw the fabric ride up, exposing her curves and the yielding flesh of her belly and thighs. With eyes still tightly shut, her face revealed every climbing sensation she experienced. As her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, her mouth would pucker and twitch into a satisfied smile of contentment. Her legs opened wider, her knees rose, and her hips lifted off the bed. Unseen hands parted the delicate folds between her legs, touching her, slipping inside her, causing her to thrust into every intimate caress. Her arms lifted off the bed as if manipulated by a master puppeteer and glided through the darkness above her body as if embracing the lover only she could feel. Panting and gasping, she dug her heels into the mattress, arching her back and forcing her pelvis forward. Chaz’s own breath caught and gurgled in his throat as he watched her body struggle to reach orgasm. With the suddenness of a cosmic scissors cutting the strings attached to her thrashing limbs, she collapsed against the bed whimpering and screaming. At the sound of her own cries, Regan’s eyes flew open. Her heart thumped in her chest, sending her blood roaring through her head like an elevated train. Every nerve in her body tingled with a burning ache too intense to ignore, yet too fresh to acknowledge. Realizing she was still lying in a rather vulnerable, exposed position, she sat up and drew her knees to her chest, snatching at the coverlet crumpled near the foot of the bed to cover her nakedness. Grateful for the cloak of darkness that hid the rising flush of embarrassment, Regan wrapped her arms around her legs in an effort to steady the trembling that rocked her body. She saw Chaz standing in the corner wearing the ridiculous goggles and she began to laugh. It was hard to take the situation seriously when he looked like a creature from one of her sci-fi illustrations come to life.

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Without a word, he pulled off the glasses and placed Pulsing Pete beside her on the bed before closing the door behind him. Regan reached for her trusty girl’s best friend. It was then she noticed the ring glistening in the dark, taunting her, reminding her that she wasn’t the one in control. With a frustrated cry she flung the purple vibrator at the wall. Chaz came flying into the room. “What’s wrong? What was that noise?” “I just broke my engagement.”

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Chapter Five Next morning she found Chaz sitting at her desktop computer surfing the web with the single-minded diligence of an internet geek. So intent on whatever it was that had his attention, he never heard her enter the living room. She noted the scrunched pillow and crumpled blanket still lying on the sofa where he’d spent the remainder of the night. He looked so cute in his baggy sweats, t-shirt and socks, so unlike the clothes she’d grown accustomed to seeing him wear on a day-to-day basis. Charles Montoya was a successful business owner and dressed accordingly. He loved his designer labels and wore them with a casual elegance she envied. She, on the other hand, worked from home and hardly ever got out of her sweats. If it weren’t for the times he insisted she buy herself something pretty and feminine, she’d never go shopping. “Searching for an exorcist?” she questioned as she came up behind him to glance over his shoulder. “Or better still the toll-free number for Ghostbusters?” She tried to keep it light, but after watching what the camera had captured, she wasn’t fooling anyone, especially Chaz. She was scared. “You might not be that far off,” he said. “Ever hear of an incubus?” “A whatabus?” “In-cu-bus,” he stressed, pointing to the monitor. “Oh, wait. Isn’t that the name of some band?” “Yes, but not the one I’m talking about. According to this, it’s a male demon that visits sleeping women and has sex with them. Their victims never wake but often remember the act as a dream.” “Now you’re telling me I’ve got a demon hanging around my bedroom? I think I like your colossal coincidence explanation better.” “Hey, it’s just another theory.” He gave a helpless shrug. “Is there a link on how to get rid of these inky busses?” She leaned closer to read what was on the screen. “It says here these guys have intercourse with their victims. Mine’s never gotten that far.” She paused and thought about it for a second. “Oh great, isn’t it just my luck to get the only sex demon that can’t get it up.” “There are more things in heaven and earth, dear heart, than are dreamt of in our philosophies.” “If I had a dollar for every time you quoted me Shakespeare,” she said.

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“You might have enough to decorate this place worthy of its outrageous price tag,” Chaz replied, finishing her remark. Regan playfully smacked him on the shoulder. She already knew how he felt about her eclectic collection of furniture, books, and curios, and she didn’t want to hear it again. “You say garage sale, I say shabby chic.” As she continued reading, she rested a forearm across his back. Enjoying the warmth radiating through his tee, she leaned closer and helped herself to the mug sitting next to the keyboard and took a sip of the milky coffee. She made a sour face when realizing it was as cold and yucky as yesterday’s pizza. “Sorry,” he said, lifting the mug from her hand. “I fixed that hours ago. There’s still some hot in the pot. Let me get you a cup.” He slipped out of the chair and headed for the kitchen. “How long have you been up?” she questioned, sliding into the seat he just vacated. Casting a quick glance at the time in the corner of the monitor screen, she exclaimed,” Shit! I’ve got an appointment with my agent in an hour.” She hustled across the room to where her drawing table sat near the light and started stuffing illustrations boards and file folders into a zippered portfolio. “Go shower,” Chaz said. “I’ll fix your coffee to go.” Thanks,” she said, blowing him a kiss and she scurried for the bathroom. Twenty minutes later she came out wearing boots, a royal blue tweed skirt, and matching cowl-necked sweater. Thank God and her mother for clear skin and rosy cheeks because the only makeup she had time for was a whisk of mascara and a swipe of plum lip gloss. “Love the look, hate the hair,” Chaz commented. She tossed the still damp ponytail off her shoulder and fluffed her bangs across her forehead. “No time to dry it.” Grabbing her purse and portfolio, Regan reached for her fashionably distressed black leather blazer and scrambled for the door where Chaz waited with a travel mug of coffee undoubtedly fixed just the way she liked it. “You’re spoiling me for any other man, you know that, don’t you?” She took the covered mug and pecked him on his unshaven cheek for his thoughtfulness. “Are you sure you don’t want to switch teams and marry me?” She proposed at least once a week as her way of letting him know how much she appreciated all the things he did for her. Having heard it all a thousand times before, Chaz just smiled his usual smile and kissed her back. Changing the subject before one or both of them got all sentimental and said something sappy, she questioned, “You sure you can’t make it tonight? I could really use a friendly face at this soiree.” She rolled her eyes as the thought of filling her lovely new condo with a bunch of women hell-bent on getting shit-faced and rowdy. “I still can’t believe I let my sister talk me into having her bachelorette party here.” “Sorry, sweetie, no can do. I’ve got that dinner meeting with that investor from L.A. Remember? But I’ve arranged for Jamie to be here around ten to do his thing.” “You mean shake his thing, don’t you?”

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“That, too.” Laughing, he reached around her and opened the front door. “Now get going,” he prompted as he scooted her into the hall with an air kiss and a swat on the butt. “Call me later.”

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Chapter Six Juggling her purse, portfolio, and travel mug, Regan pushed through the lobby door with her backside, successfully twisting and merging into the bustling foot traffic with all the skill of a seasoned city dweller as she scurried for the taxi stand. It was pretty obvious that the bearded big guy standing in the middle of the sidewalk wasn’t aware of the basic rules of tourism. Sightseers must yield right of way to work traffic. But he just stood there circumventing the pedestrian flow, oblivious to the rude comments flung in his direction. Regan bit her tongue, choosing to give the poor guy a break instead, mainly because of the way he ignored the jostles and barbs as if they didn’t faze him in the slightest, which made her wonder if he was deaf and couldn’t hear them or a foreigner and couldn’t understand them. As she neared the hulking roadblock, she began to notice more details. The shaggy hair, coarse homespun clothes, and hand-stitched leather boots made him look like a leftover reveler from the Bristol Renaissance Faire held months ago on the Illinois/Wisconsin border. But hey, this was Chicago. Like every other big city it attracted a diversified, often eccentric population of colorful characters. It was one of the reasons she and Chaz liked living there. They fit right in. Just as she joined the line swerving around him, another pedestrian coming from the opposite direction elbowed his way to the front and shoved the stranger out of his way and directly into her path. Now she’d be the first to admit that there was nothing frail or delicate about her. At five-foot-eight she fluctuated between sizes twelve and fourteen depending on that time of the month, and there remained a stubborn twenty pounds that clung to her hips and thighs like gum on the bottom of her shoe. But colliding with this dude was like hitting a brick wall at fifty miles an hour – a duly noted, big, warm, manly wall, but unyielding nevertheless. He never so much as flinched when she plowed smack into him. The impact, however, pitched her back and sent her staggering. Struggling to keep a grip on her purse strap with one hand and portfolio with the other – God only knew where the mug went– her feet shuffled to find solid ground. For all her fancy footwork, she still managed to tangle with his big boots and she felt herself going down. With no hope of preserving her dignity at this point, she closed her eyes and prepared for a messy landing.

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Before she knew what had happened, he had her scooped up and tucked under his arm – not much differently, she imagined, than a parent catching a tumbling toddler. He settled her on her feet all in the time it took to realize she never hit the pavement. “Thanks,” she breathed, flipping her bangs out of her eyes as she looked up at her rescuer. His hands lingered on her waist longer than she thought necessary, and he studied her with the most startling pale blue eyes as she felt him knead the little bit of extra flesh around her middle. Never one to back down from a challenge, even if it meant getting her feelings hurt, she stared and studied him with the same intensity. For whatever the reason, in spite of his overall gruff appearance, Regan wasn’t inclined to jump to the immediate conclusion that he was just another homeless guy looking for a handout. His beard was in desperate need of a trim and his dark shoulder-sweeping hair was quite tangled and windblown. Then again, whose wasn’t in this city? But it looked clean and healthy, telling her he was just a wash-and-go kind of guy not always focused on his looks. She liked that quality in a man. Of course, she’d like any man with a working penis right about now. Weeks of sexual frustration would do that to a girl. A spark of familiarity rippled through her, causing her spine to straighten. She rifled through her memory, trying to put a place to the face. Narrowing her focus, she tipped her head and questioned, “Have we met?” “Aye,” he breathed. “That we have.” At the sound of his baritone husky voice, she shuddered from the vibrations tripping through her and released a sharp breath. She battled against the raging impulse to pin him against the nearest building and rip his shirt off. Get a grip, Regan, she told herself. Say goodbye to the nice man and get on with your life. “Goodbye,” she said, nodding and turning to leave. He never moved and his gaze never wavered. She had to literally shift out from under his grasp. When she did, she felt a real physical loss when the contact was severed. “Thanks again.” His eyes followed her as she took a couple of tentative steps toward the taxi waiting at the curb. He looked so lost and forlorn. Her good Samaritan side, the very same one that compelled her to help look for lost puppies and toss all her loose change into every Salvation Army kettle she passed, was kicking into high gear, telling her that she couldn’t ignore this man. On the other hand, her practical side was jumping up and down to get her attention, screaming at her to keep moving. She didn’t have time for this. Her agent was waiting to sign a deal that would make her mortgage payments into the next decade. “Shit,” she muttered as she rubbed a thrumming place above her left eyebrow before taking him by the hand and leading him into the lobby of her building. She was already late, a few more minutes wasn’t going to make much difference now. “You got a name?” she asked, digging into her purse for her cell phone. He looked at her and smiled. Under normal circumstances a smile like that combined with those eyes would have had her panting and begging for more of the same. When she realized she was salivating, she licked her lips to wipe them dry and pointed to a bench. He obliged and sat.

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“Aye,” he finally stated. “I am Kaelon, Aerik’s son.” “Pleased to meet you Kaelon Eriksson,” she said, extending her hand in greeting. “I’m Regan Montgomery.” She watched him hesitate, as if he weren’t sure what was expected of him. But he finally gripped her open palm and returned the handshake. He sure wasn’t from around here. She could spot an out-of-towner from a mile away. “You seem a little out of place, Kaelon. Are you lost?” “Nay, I do not believe so. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.” “And where exactly is that?” she asked, thinking he should run for office with an answer like that. She saw his lips moving, but he didn’t tell her a blasted thing worth knowing. “Here,” he stated without hesitation. “With you.” Her stomach did a crazy flip. Forget the politician angle. This guy was a freaking fruitcake, a cute one notwithstanding. “Wait right there,” she told him, backing away, thinking she might have gotten herself into a bit of a situation. She called her apartment hoping Chaz could help, but there was no answer. He must have cut out the back exit right after she hustled out the front. She tried his cell. It went straight to voicemail. “It’s me,” she said in a hushed tone. “Call me when you get this. It’s important.” Her next call was to her agent’s office. She got his secretary and was put on hold when she asked to reschedule. She used the time to dig out her day planner to check her calendar for alternative dates. She first scanned the present week-at-a-glance then flipped to the next. As she turned the page, the big red circle around the current day’s date jumped out at her. The party! She still had to shop for food and liquor and pick up the favors she ordered. She had to change her appointment to another day. She didn’t know how she’d get it all done otherwise. Still on hold, listening to the instrumental version of Eleanor Rigby, Regan took the opportunity to study her mystery man. He looked to be mid-thirtyish, give or take. It was so hard to tell these days. People didn’t age the way they used to and the beard could add a couple of years as well. At any rate, he didn’t come close to falling into the runaway teenager category. She watched him run his hand over the polished oak bench then slide his foot back and forth over the shiny granite floor. When he glanced up and saw the discreet indirect lighting, his expression held the wonder and awe of a child on Christmas morning. She couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic inquisitiveness. The confusion that knitted his brow as he fingered the split-leaf philodendron plant mirrored the same opinion she held about the fake plants scattered around the lobby. She would have preferred the eco-friendly real thing but the condominium board shot down her suggestion, opting for the less maintenance, no bug, never-die silk variety. She was growing increasingly fascinated by this man and wanted to find out all there was to know about him. “Ms. Montgomery?” Startled by the interruption, Regan stammered, “Yes,” and readjusted the small phone to her ear.

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“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hardesty is leaving for London in the morning. He insists he see you today. He’s free until two. Can you be here before that?” Regan glanced at her watch and sighed. “I’ll be there,” she answered. Sis and her friends might just have to settle for pre-mixed margaritas and bottled salsa with their chips if things ran late. Then she went to the security desk to speak to the man sitting there. “Tommy, can I ask a favor?” She’d hit it off with the burly retired cop from the day she moved in. He treated her like a daughter. He already had four, one more wasn’t any big deal was what he’d told her when he invited her to Thanksgiving dinner when he’d heard her parents lived in Arizona. “Sure, Regan, what can I do for you?” The dark navy polo stretched across his husky frame complemented his silver hair and deep blue eyes. “See that guy sitting over there?” she said, pointing discreetly in Kaelon’s direction. “Yeah, I noticed him standing outside the building when I came on duty this morning. He a friend of yours?” He studied Kaelon with a practiced eye. Once a cop always a cop, she decided. “Well, kind of, I guess. I was wondering if he could hang around for a couple of hours until I get back from an appointment?” “Gosh, Regan, you know how the board feels about people loitering in the lobby. Is there something wrong with him?” Unsure how to reply, she shook her head and answered as simply and honestly as she could. “No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask? Does he look like there’s something wrong with him?” Maybe an ex-cop could spot something she couldn’t. “No,” Tommy answered. “I was just wondering. If he was sick or something, I might be able to bend the rules a little, if you know what I mean.” He gave her a conspirator’s wink. “No, he’s not sick that I know of. He’s not from around here.” That was an obvious truth. “He’s just a little overwhelmed by the city, if you know what I mean.” She glanced at Kaelon and felt another powerful pull. The need to take care of him was just one of the emotions running rampant through her, and for the moment it overpowered the one urging her to jump his bones by a very narrow margin. “I’d really like to help you out, Regan, but if Mrs. Constantine finds him down here she’ll have Chicago’s finest hauling him outta here for loitering faster than she can say, you’re fired, to yours truly.” “I don’t want to get you or him in any trouble, Tommy.” With her options swiftly dwindling, Regan came to the last conclusion she could – take him with her. After all, she couldn’t turn him loose to wander the streets of the city. As endearing as that fresh-off-theturnip-truck look was to her, it screamed, take advantage of me, to a lot of others out there. She didn’t want to be responsible for adding to Chicago’s crime rate. That decided, she picked up her portfolio and headed to where he sat, now quietly gazing out the floor to ceiling plate glass windows. It amazed her when he stood as she approached. The man already showed more manners than the men she’s grown accustomed to being around. “Is there any place you have to be in, oh say, the next three or four hours?” He shook his head.

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“I’ve got an appointment and some errands to run after that. You want to come with me?” This time he nodded with an eagerness that made her grin. “Strong, silent type, huh?” she muttered as she grabbed him by the arm and led him out the door.

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Chapter Seven “Sears Tower,” Regan instructed the cabbie as she and Kaelon climbed into the back seat of the cab. This ought to be interesting. If granite floors and artificial plants could pique his curiosity, she couldn’t wait to see how riding in an elevator to the ninety-third floor would affect him. She cast the man in question a sidelong glance. What am I going to do with you? “What is it you wish to do with me?” Regan startled at his question. Had she voiced her concern aloud? Apparently she had since he responded. She felt herself grow hot and flustered under his careful scrutiny. A thousand possibilities of what she’d like to do with him came rushing to mind. Resisting the temptation to spill her guts, or better still follow through with a few of her favorites, she said instead, “Where are you from, Kaelon?” He shook his head. “You are not ready to hear my answer to that.” “What makes you say that?” “Because you would not believe me if I told you.” “Try me,” she challenged. “I would be happy to try you, Regan,” he said as he placed one hand on the back of the seat behind her head and scooted closer. His fingers played with wisps of her ponytail that fell across her shoulder. His breath brushed her cheek, warm and promising, as he leaned in, narrowing the distance between them. Cupping her face, she felt the tremor in his touch drawing their lips closer and closer. It was the most exquisite kiss Regan had ever experienced. All the blood in her head rushed to her lips, leaving them swollen and sensitive to the slightest pressure he exerted. He kept it light and teasing at first, nibbling at her lower lip. She wanted more and gripped her hands on either side of his furry face, pulling him more tightly against her. A tide of thrilling consequence rippled through her and a moan of supreme pleasure bubbled in her throat. He responded with a throaty growl and slipped his tongue between her lips to take a deeper taste. Leaning into him, her arms coiled around his neck and drew him nearer, seeking to deepen the kiss.

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The tip of his tongue slipped past her lips and began a sensual teasing she matched touch for touch. He thrust deeper and she opened wider, taking the contact far beyond the boundaries of an ordinary kiss and into the realms of total oral gratification. As if but with one thought, Kaelon pulled her into an embrace that crushed her against him as they slid lower in the seat, his body covering hers. His arousal pressed against her hip as his hand crept down her thigh to slip beneath the hem of her skirt. Higher and higher he pushed the wool tweed, exposing more and more of her flesh to his touch. She nearly jumped out of her panties when his fingers grazed along the elastic leg band circling her inner thigh. His thumb rubbed her through the cotton crotch, sending a thrilling flame to leap inside her belly. He knew exactly where to touch her, where she needed a lighter touch and where she needed more pressure. She felt herself ready to implode. He stroked harder and faster, and she clenched her thighs to keep his hand where it would do the most good. She gave a barely audible whimper as he brought her to climax. She drew a ragged breath and opened her eyes to find Kaelon gazing at her, wearing the most wondrous expression. The cabbie cleared his throat and announced, “Sears Tower.” It took a moment for the words to register. With a startled gasp, she pushed Kaelon away and scrambled to pull down her skirt. She dug into the side pocket of her purse and found the money she’d tucked there for the fare. Unable to look the cabbie in the eye, she slipped the folded bill over the seat and muttered, “Keep the change,” as she opened the door and hopped out with Kaelon hot on her heels. “Regan,” he said, catching up to her. She held up her hand, “Don’t say a word.” She didn’t’ want to hear it. He couldn’t possibly say anything that she wasn’t already telling herself. How could she have let herself get so carried away like that, with a man who was a stranger for all intent and purpose? He plucked a windblown lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I only meant to kiss you. I have waited so long.” “Why do you say things like that?” “Like what?” “Like there’s a history between us.” “Soon, Regan.” He cupped her cheek and it amazed her how one simple touch could elicit such a thrilling jolt to travel through her body. “Soon you will understand. I promise.” “Yeah, well, I’m going to hold you to that, Eriksson,” she said as she scurried out of the wind and into the building. She needed to find a restroom to compose herself. The man was good, she’d give him that. Even Pulsing Pete couldn’t get her off that quickly. There’s a lot to be said for the human touch. That and the fact that the only dates she’d had in the last six months were with Misters Energizer and Duracell. ***** The meeting with her agent was quick and painless. “Sorry, Regan, but the celebratory champagne lunch will have to wait until I get back.” “Couldn’t have made it today anyway, Chet. My sister’s party is tonight. I’ve got a million errands to run this afternoon.” Gathering her purse – the portfolio was staying - she stood to leave.

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“Ah,” Chet said, coming around from behind his desk. “The infamous bachelorette party. Have fun, but I must insist you do it safely. Absolutely no drinking and driving.” She smiled at his concern and wondered what it was about her that made every older man she knew treat her like a daughter rather than a potential conquest. “Rest assured, Chet, Chaz has placed a limo at our disposal. Everyone will be seen safely home.” “He’s such a thoughtful, considerate man,” Chet Hardesty said as he ushered Regan from his office. “If I were thirty years younger I do believe I’d make a play for him.” Regan shot him a surprised glance. Chester had been her agent for more than two years. She’d congratulated him on the birth of his first grandchild six months ago and attended his wife’s funeral two months before that. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” “My generation has never been as open about their sexual proclivities as yours, dear,” he said. “In spite of coming out shortly after Greta’s passing, my daughters have asked that I remain discreet. Although I make no secret about it, I don’t announce it either.” Regan touched his arm. “Thank you for trusting me with it.” Chet leveled a tender gaze on her and squeezed her hand. “If only the world were filled with more people like you…” His voice trailed off as he opened the door to the waiting room. He cast an eye in Kaelon’s direction and asked, “Is this my next appointment, Gloria?” “No, Mr. Hardesty,” he secretary told him. “He’s waiting for Regan.” “Oh dear,” Chet said, sounding genuinely flustered by his mistake. “I’m supposed to be meeting an affiliate’s client this afternoon. A west coast grunge rocker, I believe. I thought your friend here might be him.” Regan smirked at Chet’s backhanded way of telling her he didn’t quite approve of her hanging around with such a scruffy looking character. In spite of his reservations, however, he extended his hand and greeted Kaelon with the same gracious reception he did every person who came into his agency. If only the world had more Chester Hardestys, she thought, reiterating his earlier sentiments. In the elevator, Regan faced the front of the car and cast Kaelon a sidelong glance. She’d really love to see him in a pair of butt-hugging jeans and fitted polo. If she remembered correctly, there was a men’s boutique Chaz frequented down the street from where she had to pick up the party favors. There was only one problem she could foresee - how to broach the subject of his appearance without hurting his feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was make him think there was something wrong with him. “Regan,” he said to get her attention. “Would you assist me in acquiring more favorable attire?” “Okay, sure.” That was just a little too easy, she thought.

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Chapter Eight “You sure you’re going to be all right?” Regan asked Kaelon for the third time as the shop owner ushered her toward the door. “Your friend is in good hands, Ms. Montgomery,” Warren Fleischmann assured her. “We’ll take very good care of him,” he added, stressing his point by waving the credit card she’d given him in Kaelon’s direction. Regan was doubtful. In spite of his solicitous behavior now, she still wasn’t convinced of the man’s sincerity. When they’d first walked in, he’d practically set a new sprint record in his haste to intercept them. It amazed her at how the mention of Chaz Montoya had changed his demeanor from dour to delight. Having said that, she flashed a couple of platinum credit cards under his nose and the deal was sealed. If she weren’t in such a hurry she’d be so out of there. “Keep it casual, okay?” she instructed. “I don’t want to come back and find him looking like a clone of Chaz or…” She gave the stout little man a sweeping glance. “You,” she finished. From the way he blustered, Regan knew she’d just insulted the man. Chalk one up for the underdog. Casting a last look over her shoulder as she headed out the door, Kaelon smiled that drool-inducing smile and waved, looking like an overgrown kid whose mother was leaving him on his first day of kindergarten. ***** Carrying three stuffed-to-capacity shopping bags, Regan risked getting a ticket crossing in the middle of the busy city street in what was the quickest route back to the men’s shop. She couldn’t wait to see what they’d done to her Kaelon. At that thought, her foot stumbled up the curb. Her Kaelon? What field did that come out of? She’d been with Jeff for more than a year, lived with him for part of that time, yet she couldn’t remember ever once thinking of him with that kind of all out he’s mine kind of possessiveness. She hadn’t even been that upset when he packed up and walked out. But the thought of never seeing Kaelon again was like a mule kick in the gut. A rush of pure panic quickened her pace in a desperate need to prove he wasn’t a figment of that over-active imagination Chaz insisted she used to excess. Only when she found him waiting for her on the sidewalk outside the store did she feel herself start breathing again. She gave him the once over, twice. The salesman had done as

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she asked. He was a magnificent specimen of a not quite domesticated male with just enough rough edges to keep him interesting. She barely noticed how well the shirt and jacket complimented his upper body from the way the faded denim hugged his hips, butt and thighs. The breath she’d just recovered was taken away once more. She couldn’t be more pleased. Gazing through the storefront window, she gave the salesman her stamp of approval with an ear-to-ear grin. Reaching into his back pocket, Kaelon pulled out her credit card and the receipt. “The merchant said to give these to you.” Without checking the bill, Regan crammed both into her purse. There was still one last stop they had to make – the unisex hair salon on the corner. Upon exiting the shop, Regan lifted a shopping bag high in the air to flag down a passing taxi. Carrying his own collection of shopping bags, Kaelon fell into step beside her. “I do not know how to thank you, Regan. I will find a way to repay you.” “It’s not necessary,” she told him as she waited for the cab to come to a stop. She climbed in and slid to the opposite door and planted her bags on the seat between them, using a better safe than sorry rationale. Not that she wanted to avoid a reenactment of their previous backseat encounter; on the contrary, she looked forward to it. She just preferred a little more privacy – make that a lot more privacy - the next time he had his hand between her legs. “It most certainly is necessary,” he countered with a stubborn set to his now neatly trimmed jaw. “I will not have you keeping me.” She barked a surprised laugh. “Keeping you? What ever gave you the idea I was trying to keep you?” The very idea was ridiculous. “As if,” she added. “I overheard the merchant and his apprentice,” he told her. “Yeah, well, Mr. Fleischmann needs to learn how to keep his opinions to himself,” she grumbled. Merchant? Apprentice? Now that she thought about it, Kaelon’s whole speech pattern was stiff and awkward. It made her wonder again where he came from and how he wound up where she’d found him. A muffled growling redirected her attention. When she peered over a giant bag of tortilla chips and found Kaelon rubbing his stomach, it dawned on her that they hadn’t eaten all day. The poor guy was hungry, more than likely starving by now. It must take a lot of food to fill a body that size. Just because she could go all day on a couple cups of coffee and a handful of Altoids wasn’t any excuse why she didn’t think about feeding him sooner. Pressed for time, she instructed the cab driver to take a quick detour through the next McDonalds drive-thru. Well, what do you know, she thought. She was feeding him, clothing him, and in all likelihood giving him a place to sleep. Looked liked she was keeping him, after all. And what really took her by surprise was that the idea didn’t bother her one least little bit. It seemed like the most natural thing to do under the circumstances.

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Chapter Nine After settling Kaelon in front of the TV with his burgers, fries, and apple pies, Regan went about putting away her purchases, occasionally glancing around the corner to see how he was fairing. The sight of him happily munching away on a Big Mac as he flipped through the channels made her grin. She never met a guy who couldn’t be pacified with a sack of fast food and the remote. Even Chaz, a man who didn’t own a television, could on occasion be lured into vegging out in front of the boob tube with the right gourmet snacks and classic black and white movie. Thinking of Chaz made her wonder why he never returned any of her calls. She’d tried to reach him throughout the day, and always left a message. He wasn’t one to ignore his voicemail. His whole hectic life was linked through his precious BlackBerry and he checked for messages religiously, a fact she often teased him about. She dug out her cell and checked to see if she’d missed a message from him before hitting the speed dial. The call went immediately to voicemail, again. What was going on, she wondered as she left yet another message, disconnected, and then dialed the number for his club. “Chaz Mahal, Mario speaking.” Hey, Mario, it’s Regan. Is Chaz around?” No, he isn’t,” Chaz’s temperamental stage manager replied, sounding more testy than usual. “And before you ask, I don’t have a fuckin’ clue as to his whereabouts. He’s been incommunicado all day.” “O-kaaay,” Regan said, sensing more distress than irritation in Mario’s voice. “I’ll keep trying his cell. Sorry I bothered you.” Just as she moved to punch the END button, she heard Mario shout, “Regan, wait!” “What?” “Honey, I’m sorry I snapped. It’s just that the rumors of him selling the club and moving west has the whole staff riding the bitch wagon.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Selling the club?” she repeated, stunned by the very idea. For the last eight years Chaz had poured his blood, sweat and tears into Chaz Mahal, creating one of the hottest nightspots this side of South Beach. His heart and soul were the very foundation of the place. Sell the club? No, it just wasn’t possible. “Chaz would never sell the club. There must be some mistake.”

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“That’s what we thought, too. But the old dude who came in here this morning sure made it sound like it was already a done deal.” “He said something to me about having dinner with an investor tonight. You have any idea where he planned on going?” “Let me check his office.” She heard him move through the deserted club, the scraping of chair legs, and the opening and closing of several doors before reaching his final destination at the very rear of the club. “Regan, you still there?” “Yeah,” she answered. “You find something?” “There’s nothing but a couple of initials scribbled on his desk calendar for tonight – CP w/AH @ 7.” That sounded like Chaz’s shorthand, all right. “CP is probably Café Parisian. It’s one of his favorites. But I don’t have a clue as to who AH is. You know?” “I’m looking through his address file. There’s a couple of A Hs listed -- Adam Harris, Amanda Hilton, and Anson Holt.” She recognized all three names. “Trainer, masseuse, and stylist,” Regan rattled off. “I can’t imagine any one of them looking to become an investor. Anyone else?” “Nope, nothing,” Mario answered. “I’ll keep trying his cell,” she said, frowning. “If he shows up, will you tell him I’ve been looking for him?” “Sure thing.” “Thanks, Mario,” she said, turning her wrist to check her watch. If necessary she’d call Café Parisian after seven to see if he kept his reservation. Before she could disconnect she heard the beep signaling another call. She answered before checking the caller ID. “Hey, what’s up?” “Where the hell have you been all day?” All the worry and anxiety that had been building about his whereabouts came rushing out. “I’ve been busy. Got a business to run, you know.” Chaz sounded a tad defensive. “Really?” she inquired. “Mario said he hadn’t seen you all day.” “You checking up on me?” Now he not only sounded defensive, he sounded angry as well. Regan tempered her tone. “I was concerned, that’s all. It’s not like you not to return your messages.” “You’ve got me now. What do you want?” She was taken aback by his sharp tone. He never talked to her like that. He didn’t talk to anyone like that. “You okay?” she questioned. He was a careful man in his personal life, she knew that, but the risk of HIV was always in the back of their minds. One temporary lapse in judgment could mean the difference between life and death. She and Chaz had buried too many friends over the years not to be aware of the dangers. This out of character behavior of his frightened her and caused her to think the worst. “You’re not sick or anything, are you?” She heard him sigh. “No. I’m fine, Reg, really. Just a little tired, that’s all.” “You have to stop sitting up all night with your crazy friends.”

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“I’ll try to remember that,” he said softly. “Now what was it you needed to talk to me about?” “I ran into a little trouble this morning.” She almost laughed out loud when hearing her choice of words when referring to Kaelon. From the minute she laid eyes on him, she knew he was trouble, but she hoped it was the good kind, the kind she wanted to find herself in over her head. “Actually, I met a guy,” she confessed. “Really?” He sounded truly surprised. “That’s so funny, so did I.” This time she did laugh out loud. “Is that what had you unavailable all day?” “He’s so incredible, Reg. We spent the whole day walking around the city getting to know each other.” “I’m happy for you Chazman. So tell me, what’s this incredible man’s name?” “Al Holder.” “Not the same AH you’re supposed to have dinner with tonight, is it?” “You have been checking up on me.” “Mario and I were just trying to track your whereabouts. Do you have any idea how many people you know with those initials?” “A few,” he said. “But in answer to your earlier question, no unfortunately, Al is not my dinner date for tonight. The AH on my calendar is Art Hammond, the investor from California I told you about.” “Is he the man you’re selling the club to?” “What?” he sputtered, sounding almost amused. “What ever gave you the idea I was selling the club?” “Mario,” she answered. “He tells me the rumors are spreading like wildfire through your staff.” Chaz gave a weary sigh. “I’d better go down there and douse the flames before I head to Café Parisian.” At least she got that part of it right. “Now,” Chaz urged. “Tell me about the guy you just met.” “How about I tell you all about him tomorrow,” she said. “I’m kind of pressed for time right now.” “Oh right, the party,” he said. “How about we get together tomorrow and compare notes?” “How about we just bring them with and do a live comparison?” “Sounds even better.” “Brunch at Angela’s?” she suggested. “Ten?” he suggested. “Make it eleven,” she countered. She had to consider the possibility of a late night. In fact, she was counting on it. “See you then,” he agreed. “Love you. And thanks for caring.” “Love you too. And you’re welcome.” She hung up, relieved to know the only danger Chaz currently faced was the risk of a broken heart if this Al guy wasn’t the man Chaz thought he was.

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Chapter Ten One problem solved, one to go. Now she needed to find a place to ditch Kaelon for the evening, and she had less than an hour to figure out where. She couldn’t keep him here during the party. Instinct told her he would totally not get the concept of a naked man strutting his stuff to a room of hormonally charged ladies infused with premium tequila. Just explaining the party itself and the reason behind giving it had been an exhausting exercise in patience. And she still wasn’t certain she’d gotten through to him. There was a wholesome naiveté about Kaelon that she found both intriguing and confusing. He was sweet, and gentle, and sexy as hell. Another reason she didn’t want him around when her sister and company showed up. She didn’t want to expose him to that pack of she-wolves in spike heels if there was any conceivable way of avoiding it. The solution to her dilemma suddenly came to her. “Professor Bergstrom!” she exclaimed, almost crushing the box that held the special party favors. Gently placing the white cardboard package on the counter, she peeled back the lid to inspect the delectable contents. Each piece of molded chocolate was still perfect. Regan patted the box with a wicked grin. She couldn’t wait to see her guests’ faces when she pulled these beauties out. From the minute she met the elderly gentleman who lived across the hall, she and The Professor, as she affectionately called him, had grown to be fast friends. He was a retired professor of Scandinavian studies and she was crazy about the Norse gods and heroes – it was a match made in heaven. “Kaelon,” she called, wondering where he’d gone. She searched the apartment and found him in her second bedroom-slash-library, intently leafing through a thick volume of Norse mythology he’d pulled from the floor to ceiling shelves of research material she’d accumulated over the years. Had she found another kindred spirit enthralled with Nordic legends? Recently styled dark, wavy hair, still long and shaggy by some standards, hugged his head like a heavy helmet, hanging across his forehead and catching in the collar of his shirt. His head was down, hiding the now neatly trimmed beard and mustache from her view. She’d been stunned when the stylist had spun the chair around, revealing to her the remarkably handsome face hiding under all that hair. He was gorgeous, and straight to boot. Enough said. “Ah ha, you’ve discovered my weakness,” she said entering the room. “The Norse myths are my favorites. I think I own every book ever published on the subject.” She ran her

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fingers across the upright spines of her vast and varied collection. “My friend Chaz swears I’m a reincarnated Valkyrie.” “Valkyrie?” Kaelon repeated the term with a reverence she found touching. “My mother was a Valkyrie Dis.” Nothing he said surprised her, which in itself should have told her something. “Really?” she queried, sounding only slightly curious. Taking the book out of his hands, she snapped it shut. “You’ll have to tell me all about her some time. But right now I need you to come with me.” She took him by the hand, snatched her keys off the hall table, and started toward the door. Dragging his feet, he pulled her back and wrapped her into his arms. “Where are we going?” His touch was like flipping a hardwired switch. Every nerve and neuron in her body snapped and sparked to life. Her knees turned to jelly, and she swayed against him in an effort to stay standing. His body heat melded with hers, and her softness molded to his hard planes. It reminded her of an adult sci-fi book she illustrated a couple of years back where the hero and heroine were encapsulated in an undulating sphere of anti-matter that thrust their naked bodies together, keeping them in a constant state of sexual arousal and orgasmic bliss until they went crazy and died. She’d always thought the concept of death by sex an improbable outcome, but after meeting Kaelon she was willing to give it a try. “I…I’m taking you across the hall,” she stammered, settling into the warmth of his embrace with a familiarity she couldn’t begin to explain. There was something so fundamentally right about the way she wanted him. There were no reservations, no misgivings, no uncertainties. When the moment was right, she knew they’d be together. One night or a thousand – she would take whatever time she was given with him and be grateful. “And what is across the hall that is not here already?” “A friend I’d like you to meet. I’m hoping he’ll let you stay with him during the party.” Apparent displeasure fell like a curtain across his features. “You treat me like a child who needs a watchful eye. I might not be familiar with all of your customs, Regan, but I am capable of taking care of myself. I need no woman for that.” She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. He was absolutely right. “I’m so sorry, Kaelon. Please forgive me?” “There is nothing to forgive, Regan. It is your caring that makes you protective, I understand this. If you do not want me here during this ritual of womanhood you are performing this eve, I understand and I will leave.” “No,” she blurted, afraid if he left he’d never come back. He came into her life unexpectedly. She feared he’d disappear just as mysteriously. “You can’t.” “I can’t?” he repeated. “And how would you stop me?” The only way she knew how. She clasped him by face, her fingers threading through the curly hairs of his beard, and kissed him. His lips responded exactly as she had hoped. He widened his stance to bring himself closer to her height and pulled her into him. It was impossible to ignore the feel of his erection pressing against her hipbone. Her breasts crushed against his chest.

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She moaned and opened her mouth to accept the tongue that flicked across her lips, searching for deeper access. The moment it slipped inside, she sucked gently, eliciting a growling response from the recipient. She could still taste the lingering tang of the special sauce, pickles and onions from his late lunch. Nothing particularly sexy about that, but at that moment it was, oh yes, by god, an aphrodisiac she couldn’t resist. Still connected at the lips, she placed a scant space between their bodies. Her hands raked down his chest, her fingers fumbling to unbuckle his belt and brass button at his waist. With a clumsiness born out of sheer inexperience at being the aggressor, she fumbled with his zipper. Catching the metal tab between thumb and forefinger, she gave it a quick yank. Eager to release him didn’t begin to explain the hunger driving her to grasp the smooth hardness of his erection, feel it jerk to life in her hands. Breaking their kiss, she cast him a wicked grin and dropped to her knees as she reached under the neckline of her sweater to pull out the shell shaped gold locket given to her by Chaz as a constant reminder to always be safe. She fingered the clasp and removed the single condom tucked neatly between the scalloped halves. Gripping the wrapper between her teeth, she tore it open and began to roll it down his erection, encasing him in ruby-toned latex. “What is this?” he growled, sounding more alarmed than surprised by her action. “It’s just a condom,” she answered, giving the fleshy head a quick swirl with her tongue. It was cherry. Yummy. “Now be quiet. I need to concentrate.” She could do this, she told herself as she wrapped her fingers around his thick width and guided it into her mouth to do what she’d always balked at doing in the past. Just think of it as a big red Popsicle, she told herself, and she needed to see how fast she could melt it. The thought of bringing Kaelon to total meltdown brought a smile to her lips as she took pleasure in pleasuring him. She heard the low, satisfied moan and the thunk of his head hitting the wall behind him as he came. Mission accomplished. He wasn’t going anywhere. When she finished, she peeled off the condom, careful not to spill the semen-filled reservoir, and climbed to her feet. “Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.” she said as she headed for the powder room to dispose of the evidence. “Where would I go?” he asked on a breathless note. “I cannot move.” Except for having tucked his sated organ into his pants, he was pretty much in the same position she’d left him. “Now,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “What were you saying?” “I cannot remember,” he answered. “Didn’t think so.” She took him by the hand and led him out the door without any further resistance. ***** “Regan! What a pleasant surprise,” said her neighbor, Elliot Bergstrom. He stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. “And you’ve brought a friend, how wonderful. Come in, come in.” “Thanks, Professor,” she said, stepping into the foyer. “I’d like you to meet Kaelon Eriksson.” “Ah, the son of Erik,” the professor said with authority as he extended his hand. Kaelon took the old man’s hand. “Son of Aerik,” he corrected. “Brother of Erik.”

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The professor nodded in understanding and smiled. “Yours would not be the first surname to be butchered by immigration.” Elliot turned to Regan. “What brings you here, dear? Surely you and your friend have better things to do on a Friday evening than visit with an old man.” He peered at her from over the top if his wire-rimmed glasses, his baldpate gleaming like polished marble under the glow if the entry sconce. She wasn’t sure where to begin. At the beginning, she guessed. “Kaelon showed up unexpectedly today and tonight’s my sister’s party,” Regan preambled. “Which isn’t exactly the place for him but I can’t very well turn him lose in an unfamiliar city either. I was wondering if it would be okay if Kaelon stayed with you for a couple of hours?” “Of course,” the professor told her without a moment’s hesitation. “I’d welcome the company. With a name like Eriksson, I’m sure we will find plenty to talk about.” “Oh, one more thing,” she said as she stepped into the hall. “I’m getting Chinese for dinner. I’ll order extra for the two of you and send it over. You want your usual, or are you up to trying something new?” “Why don’t you surprise us,” the professor told her. “Unless, of course, Kaelon has a preference.” “You got it,” she answered, sounding as though she knew exactly what Kaelon preferred. She didn’t have a clue and wondered if he’d rather have moo goo gai pan or moo shu pork. Thinking about the different dishes available, however, did remind her of the old joke about a young woman who entered a Chinese carryout and ordered cream of sum yung gai. Been there, had that, she thought with a sly grin as she dug into her pocket for her key. As the professor closed the door, she heard him question Kaelon, “Do you play Hnfatafl, Kaelon?” The professor had tried on several occasions to teach her the ancient Norse board game of strategy with little success. Maybe he would have better luck with his latest victim.

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Chapter Eleven Watching her sister’s circle of friends file into her home, Regan caught a thumbnail under a front tooth and began to gnaw it off like a beaver caught in a trap. This was her worst nightmare coming true. Give her a sexually dysfunctional incubus any day of the week. Old insecurities started to rise like the tide. It didn’t matter that she was by far the most successful woman in the room. All she could think of was how the majority of these women had tormented her and Chaz in high school. Why, oh why, oh why had she knuckled under to her big sister’s pleas? Wait, she knew the answer to that. Because giving in was easier than listening to Rhonda whine and bellyache, that’s why. That was her reason for always doing what Rhonda wanted since they were kids. “But Rho,” Regan had argued. “This is your third marriage.” “But it’s only my first bachelorette party,” Rhonda had reasoned. Since there was no rational argument for that kind of irrational logic, Regan caved, again. But this was absolutely, positively the very last time, she told herself. And for the first time in her life, Regan believed it. Her sister, in all her surgically enhanced beauty, waltzed into the room on four-inch stilettos, appearing genuinely pleased by Regan’s efforts. She brushed back her chin-length honey locks and puckered her silicone-injected lips, kissing the air in what Regan realized was the most affectionate display she’d ever received from her self-absorbed sibling. “I can’t wait for the stripper,” Rhonda trilled with more enthusiasm than Regan could ever remember hear coming out of her big sister. “I’m so nervous and excited. I feel like a virgin again,” she giggled. “Your plastic surgeon fix that too?” Regan questioned. “Oh stop,” Rhonda laughed, waving lethal fingernails in Regan’s direction as she sashayed across the room to greet several latecomers. Good lord, Regan pondered, casting a brief glance at her own less than glamorous hands. Although she had long and slender fingers – artist’s hands her mother called them – she kept her nails short, most often from biting them. How did anyone function with things like that growing from the ends of their fingers? As she headed for the kitchen the thought made Regan shudder as she imagined what damage they could cause. “Regan,” one of the women cooed and she sidled along the counter. Well, well, if it wasn’t Rainata Cantrell, or whatever her last name was this month. When it came to failed

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marriages her sister was a slacker compared to this woman. While Rhonda was only marching down the aisle for a measly third time, Rainy was in the middle of messy divorce number five with number six warming up in the bull pen. Fifteen years ago Regan would have shriveled from Rainata’s unwelcome attention. But now, as she leveled a steady gaze on the shorter woman, Regan realized just how unmoved she was, and an amazing peace settled around her quaking heart. Replacing the years of harbored bitterness, there blossomed something more closely resembling cool indifference. None of these women could hurt her anymore, not unless she let them, and the startling realization made her smile warmly at her guest. “Hello Rainy,” she said. “Your condo is lovely,” Rainata told her as she cast a scrutinizing eye around the cobalt glass and stainless steel kitchen. “Thanks,” Regan replied, running a finger over the dark blue granite countertop. The rest of her place might be a collection of eclectic funk, but her kitchen was a state-of-the-art masterpiece. Even Chaz couldn’t find fault with the kitchen. “You’ve done surprisingly well for yourself.” Measuring the last shot of tequila, Regan dumped it over the ice and margarita mix already in the blender. “Ironic, isn’t it?” Bristling, Rainata questioned, “What is?” “Oh, come on, Rainy,” Regan urged, breathing a terse laugh. “Think about it. Those silly, stupid drawings you and your friends condemned me for doing in high school are the very thing that paid for all of this. I’d call that irony at its most excellent.” Punching the CRUSH button, Regan successfully managed to drown out any standard Rainata comeback. A childish gesture she supposed, but a satisfying one nevertheless. Rainy sniffed and touched the underside of her nose as if the air had suddenly turned them downwind from a landfill. She spun on her heels and retreated to the living room. “What’s the meaning of these?” Rhonda squealed, fanning a pile of computergenerated placards in Regan’s face. “They’re pretty self-explanatory, Rho.” “You don’t expect us to take these seriously, do you?” Rhonda snapped, tossing the stack of NO SMOKING signs in front of Regan. “Yes, I do.” Regan retorted, scooping up the cards and carrying them into the living room where she found several women just about to light up, Rainata being one of them. “Please don’t smoke in here.” “Why, for heaven’s sake?” Rhonda whined. “Give me one good reason.” “I could probably give you a hundred, Rho, but the only one that matters is it’s my house, my rules. If any of you really feel the need, ladies, please take it out to the balcony.” “The balcony?” Rainata rolled her eyes and bared her capped teeth. “In case you haven’t noticed, Regan dear. It’s No-vem-ber.” “In case you haven’t noticed, Rainy, the balcony is really an enclosed and heated solarium,” Regan returned. “And it’s right this way,” she finished, gesturing toward the French doors.

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Snatching her cigarettes and lighter from her purse, Rainata gave a resentful,” Fine!” as she headed for the balcony/solarium with several others, mumbling under her breath every step of the way. Things were tense for a little while after that. It was obvious that Rainy and her followers still didn’t like being told what they could and could not do. But the mood mellowed considerably after a couple of batches of margaritas made with top shelf tequila and glasses rimmed with gourmet chipotle salt. By the time the food showed up, the smoking issue was but a memory. True to her word, when the Chinese arrived, she diverted egg rolls, hoi sin pork, fried rice, and beef with broccoli to the professor’s door. Elliot took the bags from the delivery boy and waved his thanks, shutting the door before she had the chance to ask how Kaelon was doing. Casting a glance at the women sitting around the dining room table, she sure hoped he was having a better time than she was. Correction, she didn’t have to hope, he had to be, even if he found himself watching the professor’s greatest hits of fiord travelogues. “Ladies, ladies,” Regan raised her voice to be heard over the waves of feminine after dinner chatter. It amazed her – only nine women in the room and there had to more than twice that many conversations bouncing between the participants. Can I please have your attention?” Eager to kick the festivities up a notch and get the joint rocking before the stripper showed up, she clutched the bakery box between her hands and questioned, “Who’s ready to prove their sexual prowess?” That got their attention. Conversations ceased and all heads turned in her direction. An occasional speculative murmur was all that cut through the sudden silence. “In this box,’ she said, holding it out for their inspection. “Is a little something – well, maybe not so little to some of you – to help you demonstrate the techniques you use to drive your man wild.” She reached under the lid and lifted out one of the cock suckers – six inches of solid milk chocolate pecker on a stick. “I’m not sticking that thing in my mouth,” Rainata squawked when Regan handed her the sucker. “I’m betting that’s not the first time you’ve said that, is it, Rainy?” Regan cracked with a smirk. Her comment drew titters and chortles, the loudest coming from the very women who professed to be Rainy’s closest friends. Rhonda’s best friend, Morgan Walters, took her sucker like she’d just been handed the Holy Grail, and Wendy Pratt, another of Regan’s past tormentors, licked her lips and immediately started peeling off the cellophane wrapper. Guess the rumors about Wendy giving blowjobs under the bleachers were true. “Damn, girl,” Regan laughed, keeping Wendy from sticking the sucker into her mouth. “Put it in idle while I hand out the rest of these.” One by one Regan passed out the rest of the suckers, and each of the remaining women had their own unique reactions and remarks about the lifelike choc-o-cocks. All took them in the manner she intended, except for Rhonda’s future sister-in law, Samantha Gibbs, who adamantly refused to look at the thing, let alone touch it.

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Regan had already considered this possibility and had the situation covered. “I’ve got just the thing for you, Samantha.” She dug into the bottom of the box and pulled out a sucker shaped and colored quite differently than the others. “Here you go.” “What’s this,” Samantha asked. “A pink peppermint pussy,” Regan answered with a matter of fact shrug and a wink. “I had a feeling this might happen. Not everyone likes chocolate, after all. Besides, I’m more interested in style than subject matter.” Samantha twirled the sucker between her fingers as a smile slowly came to her lips. “Thanks, Regan. I appreciate it.” “Okay, ladies,” Regan said, glancing at her watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to show me what you can do. Only licking and sucking are allowed, biters will be disqualified, and may the best mouth win!” “Where’s your sucker?” Morgan questioned. “I’m the judge,” Regan replied. “That’s not fair,” Rainata interjected. “My house, my rules, remember?” Regan told her, staring the defiant redhead down. “Why don’t we take a vote on who gets to be the judge?” Rainy suggested, obviously convinced she’d win. “That’s not going to happen,” Regan told her. “You’re being a spiteful bitch, Regan Montgomery.” Rainy tossed her sucker onto the coffee table. “I refuse to be a part of this perverted game of yours unless you play too.” Three of her friends followed her lead. Thunk, thunk, thunk, three solid chocolate peckers hit the wood topped table in rapid succession. Rainata sat back and crossed her arms, wearing a smug expression. “Come on, Regan,” Rhonda urged. “Tell them you’ll play.” “No,” said Regan. “I won’t.” Rhonda sprang to her feet, teetering like a tipsy shrew in a designer suit and fuck-mepumps. “You’re ruining everything, Regan.” Her sister’s accusation stung like an openhanded slap, but instead of backing off and capitulating like she always did, Regan felt a surge of defiance. She stared at her sister for a long minute before finally saying, “You and your friends need to leave. Now.” “What?” Rhonda swayed and fell back into her seat, as if parking her well-sculpted butt would give her a better chance of staying. “You heard me. All of you get out.” “But my party, the stripper…” Rhonda stammered. “Party’s over, Rho. There’s a limo waiting downstairs to take you anywhere you want to go.” Heading for the foyer closet, Regan flung it open and started snatching coats and jackets off the hangers to hasten them in their departure.

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Chapter Twelve After the last of them had taken their leave, Regan collapsed against the door and let gravity pull her to the floor. Drawing her hands down her face, she allowed herself one shudder of remorse and a single groan of guilt. This confrontation with her sister had been long overdue, but she blamed herself for not doing something about it a lot sooner. Her biggest regret was that she let it happen when it did, and over something so stupid. A knock at her back startled her, leaving her wondering which of the departing divas had forgotten something. She peered through the peephole and discovered Jamie Hart, stripper extraordinaire and the best Monday through Thursday bartender Chaz Mahal ever had. Opening the door, she greeted him. “Hi, Jamie. Come on in.” Hauling a boom box and a huge canvas bag full of his props, he entered and looked around the empty room. “What’s going on? Where’s my audience?” “The party broke up earlier than expected,” she explained, reaching for her purse. “I’m really sorry for wasting your time like this, Jamie.” She pulled out two hundreds and handed them to him. Chaz had already taken care of his standard fee, but she felt obligated to cover the tips. He waved away her offer but she insisted and finally got him to take the cash by stuffing it into the snug front pocket of his jeans. “I was really looking forward to seeing you perform, too,” she told him. “I’d be happy to do a private show for you, Regan,” he offered with a flirty wink and a suggestive thrust of his pelvis, his ample assets clearly outlined beneath the formfitting denim. There had to be some Spandex in those pants, she decided. No other way he could have gotten them on otherwise. “Tempting as it sounds, Jamie, I’m going to pass.” Collecting his gear, he shrugged and headed for the door. Before stepping across the threshold, he hesitated, casting her an enticing over the shoulder heavy-lidded glance and a drop-dead smile. “The invitation is always open, Regan.” “Thanks, Jamie. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, realizing that twenty-four hours earlier she might have considered his offer. Although not entirely comfortable with this sex for the sake of sex attitude so many of her friends had adopted like a new religion, she’d had a few spectacular one-night stands over

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the years. One in particular leaped to mind. Talk about a religious experience. There had definitely been a second coming. For the most part, however, she was still just an old-fashioned girl who wanted more from a relationship than really, really good sex. All right, in all fairness, she wanted really, really good sex and a relationship. Was that too much to ask? Of course not, she told herself, but for now she’d settle for getting naked with Kaelon. Relationship, schmelationship. She felt something for him and she wasn’t about to let him get away without taking him for at least one test ride. ***** “Party over already?” The professor tossed Regan a puzzled glance when he found her standing in the hall. “Yeah, well, when I finally had enough of my sister and her country club clones I kicked them all out on their collective butts.” “Brava,” Elliot cheered. “How’d your evening go?” she asked as she stepped inside his apartment. “Better than mine, I hope.” “Interesting,” Elliot answered. “Kaelon’s knowledge and understanding of ancient Scandinavia is most remarkable. It rivals that of my own.” “Really?” she queried, sounding quite astounded. “Because his knowledge of modern America sucks. Why do you think that is, Professor?” “There are so many factors to consider. I hesitate to speculate.” She frowned at his less than incisive response. “How about giving it your best shot then.” She valued Elliot’s opinion. “You don’t think he’s crazy or dangerous, do you?” If he thought there was something wrong with Kaelon, she needed to know now, before she took him back to her place and tucked him into her bed. “No, no, I can assure you it’s nothing like that.” He patted her arm for further reassurance. “It’s just that, well, I gave him my word not to betray his confidence.” “He told you something about himself? What? What did he tell you? Please, Professor, tell me what you know about Kaelon.” About the man she was falling for head over heels. It was the most incomprehensible thought she’d ever had, but she knew it was true. She loved a man she’d known for less than one day. How could that be, she wondered? Was it even possible? Yes, she realized. It was. Elliot shook his head against all her prodding insistence. “Trust him to tell you when the time is right,” he told her. “And never forget that you have nothing to fear from him, ever, my dear, expect perhaps losing your heart.” Feeling the heat of his intrusive stare, Regan turned away. “Is it that obvious?” “My dear, dear Regan. Just because I appreciate the wonders of ancient history doesn’t mean I’m blind to the equally wondrous workings of human chemistry.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “It doesn’t take twenty-twenty vision to see what passes between the two of you.” Choosing to change the subject rather than pursue it, she glanced around the living room. “Where is Kaelon?” That really wasn’t changing the subject as much as it was diverting it. “In the den, watching the History Channel, oddly enough.”

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Entering the den off the hall, she didn’t find Kaelon watching anything. He was sound asleep. Now what? She nudged his shoulder. “Kaelon,” she said. “Wake up.” Nothing. Then she gripped his shoulder with more pressure and shook it. Still nothing. Shaking even harder, she still got no response. He was by all definition, dead to the world. “Looks like he’s here for the night,” Elliot said as he pulled a blanket from the closet. So much for her plans. “You still have the key I gave you?” “Yes, I keep it in my desk.” “Tell him to use it if he wakes up and wants to come back to my place.”

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Chapter Thirteen Regan startled awake, but she felt invigorated and hopeful instead of bearing the usual frustration of climax interruptus. The dream had been different this time. Lying on her back in the dark, giving her eyes the opportunity to adjust to the silvery glow of city lights illuminating her bedroom, Regan tried to examine the reason why the dream was different. Two minutes later, she heard the key in the lock and the deadbolt slide back. Resisting the urge to throw back the covers and run to him, she sat up and listened, and waited. After finding him asleep at the professor’s, she’d come to the conclusion that the next move had to be his. There was nothing she could do when insecurity reared its wicked head. There was no denying that she wanted him, had from the moment she’d bumped into him, but she needed a little reassurance that he wanted her, too. The doorknob jiggled and turned, and her heart leapt into her throat as she watched the door swing open. Her heart fluttered in her chest, not out of fear but out of sheer anticipation for what was about to happen. “Kaelon,” she whispered when his broad silhouette appeared in the doorway, backlit by the ever-present light that filtered through her twenty-third floor windows. He took one step into the room then another, walking toward her with slow, deliberate strides. It was then she realized he was naked, his body gleaming like a bronzed statue touched by moonbeams and turned to flesh and blood. “I’ve come to finish what I started,” he said as he reached the side of her bed. His voice, low and raspy, tripped across her flesh like the most intimate of caresses. “This is crazy, you know,” she told him but scooted over and tossed the comforter aside nevertheless. “I hardly know you.” “You know me, Regan,” he said with such fierce conviction it startled her but left no room for debate. He was right. She did know him and it prompted her to pull her pink sleep tank over her head and wriggle out of the matching panties. No barriers, no secrets, no pretences, just flesh-to-flesh contact the second their bodies came together. Placing one knee on the mattress, he lifted a long strand of her hair away from her breast, his knuckles tickled a nipple and caused her breath to catch. Caressing every muscle and hard plane of his chest and stomach, she fingered the four inch jagged scar that ran down his ribs and a shorter one that followed the curved ridge of his hipbone. He flinched beneath her explorations. “Tender or ticklish?” she wondered aloud, thumbing the pronounced line of old scar tissue. His skin was warm and supple.

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“Both.” “Was it an accident?” she questioned. “No. Just brothers who thought they could get the best of me,” he answered as he braced his palms on the bed and leaned forward. Hovering over her, he kissed her bare shoulder and she mirrored the gesture. His scent was earthy and fresh like the neighborhood park after a gentle spring rain. “You’re the oldest?” she questioned, watching the weighty silver amulet he wore sway away from his body like a gleaming pendulum. The smooth stone situated in the center of the oddly shaped pendant shimmered and flickered in the moonlight. “Uh huh,” he murmured, nibbling at her neck. He cupped one breast and then the other, cradling their lushness in his palm as he worked the nipple into an aching knot with a teasing thumb and forefinger. “How many do you have?” “There appears to be just the usual two,” he said, taking the tight peak into his mouth and rolling it between his lips and tongue. She gasped aloud as he drew the tight peak into his mouth and sucked hard, drawing the nipple against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. The tickling scrape of his springy goatee against the sensitive underside of her breast was an added layer of pleasuring seduction. Chuckling at his misunderstanding, she arched into him, half crazy from the thousands of tingling charges flitting through her body. “I mean brothers,” she clarified. “How many brothers do you have?” “Three,” he mumbled against the soft swell of her breast as he kneaded the yielding flesh with adoring fingers. “Four boys,” she gasped, more from where his hand began to creep. His fingers slipped between her thighs. “Your mother had her hands full.” “That she did,” he agreed. He wedged a knee between her thighs and urged them apart to let his hand move further upward. “But she handled us.” As his fingers slipped between her legs, delving between her moist feminine folds, he paused when he discovered the delicate gauged inner labia ring situated near her clit. “I am intrigued,” he said against her belly as he flicked the smooth metal loop back and forth with curious fingertips. “Just an impetuous college moment.” She shifted to give him better access to her genital jewelry. “I never intending on keeping it, but I quickly realized how much I liked the feel.” She squirmed against his hand to let him know just how much she liked him playing with the slick hoop. Oh, yeah… Regan was never so glad about a decision than she was at that precise moment as he worked the ring up and down with unnerving instinct as to its intended purpose. Dipping his head, he worked his way down her stomach and started nibbling lower and lower, tasting her flesh with his tongue and lips. “I liked what you did to me this afternoon,” he told her. His breath swept over her like a warm feathery caress. “I want to do the same to you.” He didn’t wait for permission as he situated himself between her legs and lowered his mouth. He parted the delicate folds and lapped at the juices flowing from her vagina. He stroked her inner walls with gentle fingers as he flicked her clit with his tongue. There wasn’t

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a part of her left untouched or untasted. He probed and delighted her with a single-minded adoration that made her feel like the most cherished female on the planet. Flinging her arm out to the side, she fumbled to open the nightstand drawer and grabbed the box of fruit-flavored condoms. She tore the box open and snatched one out. Wriggling into the classic 69, she situated herself over him. A need to touch him before she sheathed him in latex compelled her to wrap her fingers around his thrusting erection. It felt huge and smooth in her grasp as she languidly stroked the firm shaft, rubbing it against her face and hair. She removed the condom from its wrapper and slowly rolled it down his erection, kissing the tip of his penis and swirling her tongue around the head as she went. Interesting. This one had a distinct grapey flavor. She took him deeper, using her tongue to tease the underside of his penis as he glided in and out. “Enough,” he cried, twisting himself to face her. His breath exploded between her thighs, cool against her hot, aroused flesh. Rising on his knees between her legs, he guided his penis to her opening and lowered himself into her. Slick from his mouth and her own fluids, he slid into her with one long, deep stroke. Regan wrapped her legs around his waist and held him there. He drove deep, bumping against her pelvic bone with each penetrating thrust, taking her closer and closer. When she reached out to embrace her lover this time, she found warm, pliant flesh and a man she knew wouldn’t disappear before he finished. Tightening her vaginal walls around him, she arched into her orgasm as he pumped harder and faster. Opening her eyes, she watched him toss his head back and give a deepthroated grunt as he stiffened and jerked against her. Releasing her grip around his middle, she felt herself go limp and her legs dropped to the mattress. She couldn’t find enough energy to move another fraction of an inch. “Wow,” she breathed. “Wow, indeed,” he said. Rolling off her, he started to peel off the condom. “Why do you continue to put these things on me?” As much as she didn’t want to, she forced herself to stir. Gazing at him, she searched for some sign that he was joking. There wasn’t a shred of humor in his expression. “You really don’t know, do you?” “I would not be asking if I did,” he said, waving the thing at her, obviously not knowing what to do with it now that he’d removed it. “Give me that,” she said, snatching it from his fingers. Wrapping it in a wad of tissues, she tossed it into the wastebasket. “How is that possible? This is the twenty-first century. Who doesn’t know what a condom is in this day and age?” A long silence settled over them before Kaelon drew a deep breath and finally answered, “A man who is not familiar with this century and its customs.” What did that mean? Kaelon was a time traveler? No, no, no, she told herself, absolutely not. She was not going to let her imagination carry her to that far-fetched conclusion without examining every other avenue of possibility. She dismissed the notion as quickly as it came, realizing to even think it was preposterous. She fell silent as she searched for a less extreme explanation for his statement. He was speaking metaphorically, that’s it. He meant he was a man who preferred the slower pace and less complicated lifestyles of earlier times. He studied the past and appreciated all that went

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with it. The professor said Kaelon was well versed on ancient history. Yeah, that had to be it. Oh, god, she was grasping at anything to keep from panicking. “I pray to the gods that your silence is not because you have doubts about me.” He rolled to his side and faced her, bracing himself on an elbow. Regan readjusted her position. She needed to see his face, study his expression as she asked, “What gods do you pray to, Kaelon?” She noticed that the amulet had shifted and now dangled nearer to his heart. “The Aesir in Asgard, of course.” That didn’t prove anything, she told herself. There were still believers in the Nordic gods all over the world. She scooped up the medallion. Feeling the hefty weight of it in her palm, she curled her fingers around the irregular angles and questioned, “Then this is a Thor’s Hammer?” “It is a Mjollnir.” He wrapped his fingers around hers and together they gripped the amulet. “Every member of my family wears one as a reminder of our heritage.” She couldn’t help but catch the fact that he used the present tense when talking about his family. “Are you close to your family?” “I was, once.” “Once? You’re not any more?” “I have not seen them for a very, very long time.” He tugged the Mjollnir away from her and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Turning his back to her, he slumped over and caught his head in his hands. Listening to the sobs that wracked his body, Regan kneeled behind him and curled herself across his back, pressing close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his, holding him until the trembling subsided. It was then she realized that it didn’t matter where he came from or why, or even when. He was here with her now, and she loved him. His past was his. His future was hers. “I’ll be your family, Kaelon. And you will be mine.”

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Chapter Fourteen Just as they were heading out the door the next morning to meet Chaz for brunch, her cell phone began to ring. Digging into the front pocket of her purse, she said, “This better not be Chaz calling to cancel.” As much as she loved her friend, she wasn’t blind to his annoying habit of canceling at the last minute. “Yeah,” she snapped, expecting to hear, “I can’t make it. Something’s come up.” To which she’d reply, “What’s his name?” “Regan? I do hope I haven’t caught you at bad time.” “Oh, no, Professor,” she said, softening her tone. “I thought you were Chaz.” “I can assure you that I am not.” She smiled, thinking that sounded like something Kaelon would have said. Now that she thought about it, Kaelon and the professor had similar speech patterns. How peculiar. “I was wondering if Kaelon might be there?” This time she smirked. As if he didn’t already know. “He’s right here,” she said, handing the phone to Kaelon. Not wanting to appear like she was eavesdropping, she moved away and busied herself with unwrapping the cellophane off a peppermint she found in the pocket of her jacket. She was starving and hoped a quick rush of sugar would take the edge off her hunger. Not likely, she realized as she studied the wrapper. It was sugarless. “The professor wants me to help him with something,” Kaelon told her as he handed her the phone. “When?” she questioned. “Now,” he said. “Can’t it wait? We’re already running late.” “This will not take long. Why don’t you go on ahead and I will meet you when I am through.” She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it just as quickly. He’d already made himself clear as to how he felt about her telling him what to do. She wasn’t going down that road again, and she didn’t have the time to convince him otherwise. “Fine,” she said. “How long do you think this something is going to take?” He reached for her. Wrapping her in his arms, he told her, “Do not worry, Regan. I will be there for you. I will not let you down.” She handed him back the phone. “Call me on Chaz’s cell when you’re on your way.” *****

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Chaz stood and waved to her from the corner booth when she entered the restaurant. He greeted her with a hug and an air kiss. “Hi, where’s your new guy?” “Helping the professor with something or other. He’s coming.” His coming, and hers, was why they were running late in the first place. “Where’s your new fella?” She tossed her purse into the booth and scooted in behind it. “Late,” he said, casting an eager glance at the entrance. Spotting the coffee carafe on the table, she grabbed it and poured herself a cup, refilling Chaz’s while she was at it. “I’m starving,” she announced as she added cream and sweetener. “So I hope your friend doesn’t mind if I take a quick pass down the buffet.” She took a quick taste of her coffee and slid out of the booth again. When she returned with a plate of melon chunks, grapes, and scrambled eggs with bacon bits and cheese, she discovered that the mystery man had finally arrived in her absence. He sat next to Chaz with his arm stretched across the back of the booth, leaning forward in an intimate gesture of attentiveness. “I can’t wait to meet her,” she heard him tell Chaz. “Here she is now,” Chaz returned, smiling. “Al, this is my best friend Regan Montgomery. Regan, this is Al Holder.” Regan set her plate down and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Al,” she said. She nearly gasped at the icy chill that ran up her arm and down her spine when their hands made contact, and she forced a smile to hide the shock. As if he already knew her thoughts, Al cast her a benign smile that never reached his piercing dark eyes. “I feel as though I already know you from all the things Charles has told me about you.” She didn’t want this man to know anything about her. The very thought made her skin crawl. “All good things, I hope,” she said, her words faltering with uneasiness. “Nothing but the best,” he answered with a smooth, practically oily, inflection. He covered Chaz’s hand with his. “If I didn’t know better, I’d be eaten up with jealousy.” On that note, he stood, stepping aside, and waited for Chaz to vacate the booth before they headed together for the buffet. This was a new experience. She’d never seen Chaz so enraptured with anyone before. Ordinarily, he was the cool and collected one in any relationship. It was usually the other men who showed their hearts on their sleeves. Spearing a chunk of honeydew, she used the time it took to chew and swallow to study the man who had Chaz acting like a schoolboy with his first crush. There was no denying Al Holder was good looking, devastatingly so in a brooding kind of way. Dark, blue-black hair, equally dark eyes, and those fashionably gaunt cheek hollows made him the perfect poster boy for today’s gothic romance covers and totally outside the realm of her friend’s usual taste in men. She trusted Chaz’s instincts, but she trusted her own more. Other than his good looks, there was something she didn’t like about Al Holder, and Regan didn’t have the foggiest notion as to what Chaz saw in the man. Must be a gay thing because this straight chick didn’t see it. When the men returned to the table with their food, they ate in companionable silence. Something that Regan was grateful for since she couldn’t seem to think of one thing to say to

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the man. Ordinarily she was a fount of questions and small talk when she met someone new. But this guy projected an aura that stifled any interest she might have shown. Halfway through breakfast, Al suddenly patted his pocket and turned to Chaz. “I seem to have left my phone in the car. Would it be too much of an imposition if I used yours?” Chaz pulled his BlackBerry from the belt clip and handed it to Al. Al took the phone and excused himself. “So, what do you think?” Chaz questioned the second Al was out of earshot. His question reminded her of something her mother once told her: If you don’t have anything nice to say about a person, don’t say anything at all. Yeah, well, that was easier said than done. “He already shows more manners than most of the guys you’ve dated.” There, that was something nice, she thought. Chaz knew how she felt about people using their cell phones in public places. Her first and foremost opinion was that the worst cell accessory was the rude and inconsiderate person attached to it. “You don’t like him, I can tell.” Chaz appeared crushed. “I don’t know him,” she corrected. “Give me a chance to do that, huh?” Taking a sip of mimosa, she peered at Chaz from over the tipped foot of the flute and hoped this relationship would fizzle and die a quick death. Returning to the table, Al slipped into the booth and laid the phone down. He turned to Chaz and said, “I must go. Business calls, I’m afraid.” “What type of business are you in, Al?” For Chaz’s sake she had to try at least. “Property acquisitions,” he said. “Holder Holdings, huh?” she quipped. “Catchy.” The brief, black look he cast her as he turned toward Chaz in an intentional gesture of exclusion, would have shriveled any man or woman who actually cared what he thought. Good thing for her she didn’t give a devil’s damn about his opinion. Her feelings might have been hurt otherwise. Feeling like a fifth wheel, she reached for Chaz’s BlackBerry, grabbed her purse, and scooted out of the booth. She dialed her cell number and listened for the connection as she left the restaurant. Standing on the sidewalk outside of Angela’s, she wondered and worried why Kaelon wasn’t answering. Just as she finished leaving a voicemail, Chaz and Al joined her. “We’re going to the club,” Chaz told her, sounding flat and unemotional. “In that case, I’m heading back to my place,” she said, handing him his phone. “You two have fun.” “He wants us both to come.” His eyes glanced downward in an obvious attempt to redirect her attention. It was then she noticed Al pressing a snub-nose revolver into the cashmere folds of Chaz’s sport coat.

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Chapter Fifteen “I don’t keep much cash on the premises,” Chaz informed Al as they shuffled their way down the narrow, dimly lit hallway toward the back of the club. “An armored car makes a pickup every night right before closing.” Regan knew they were heading for Chaz’s rarely used private office. He conducted the majority of his business off the premises. It was a bare bones room with tile floors, stark walls, and basic furnishings. He saved the glitz and glamour for the front of the house where he always argued it belonged. “What is it with you Americans?” Al groused. “Not everything is about money.” “If it’s not money you’re after, than what do you want?” Chaz questioned, sounding more fearful than before. “I’ll leave the explanation to that for Kaelon to answer. He is, after all, the reason for my being here.” Regan’s head snapped to attention. Forcing herself to swallow against the sudden dryness clutching at her throat, she asked, “What does Kaelon have to do with any of this?” “Who do you think led me to this place?” Al sneered at her like she was the dumbest woman on the face of the earth. No, it couldn’t be true. Not Kaelon. Not her sweet, gentle Kaelon. She shook her head against the very idea. “He can’t be involved with the likes of you,” she said. Al gave another disgusted snort. “How fucking stupid are you? Do you really believe that our bumping into the two of you at the same precise moment yesterday morning was just a stroke of incredible coincidence?” In spite of the heavy thumping of her heart, an incredible calmness settled over her. “I don’t believe you,” she told him, meaning every word with all her heart. Standing in the hall just outside Chaz’s office, they heard an intermittent scraping noise coming from inside. Al cast Chaz an accusatory glance. “What is that? I thought you said the club would be empty at this time.” Chaz shook his head and gave a confused shrug. “I…I don’t know. It should be. It’s supposed to be.” Looking at Chaz, Al jerked his head in the direction of the sound. “Find out what it is.” Then he pointed the gun at Regan’s head. “One false move and she’s dead. Understand?” Chaz nodded in understanding, casting Regan a helpless glance as he opened the door. The cleaning woman startled and gave a yelp.

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“Oh, it is you, Senor Montoya,” she said with breathless relief, clutching her chest as she straightened. “I did not hear you come in. If you give me just a few more minutes I will be finished in here to leave you to attend to your business.” Al poked the barrel of the revolver into his back and whispered, “Get rid of her, now. Or I will.” “The office looks fine, Milagra. You can leave now.” “But I have not finished the floor.” Gesturing to the bucket and scrub brush, she sounded appalled at the thought of leaving a task incomplete. Al poked the gun harder into Chaz’s ribs, causing him to flinch. Chaz practically shouted, “Get out.” Regan and the woman jumped at his tone. “Si, senor, I will leave,” Milagra replied as she reached to retrieve the mop bucket. “Time’s up.” Al pressed the gun to the back of the woman’s head and pulled the trigger. She fell across the bucket, knocking it over and spilling its contents. Dirty mop water splattered across the tiled floor, pooling with the poor woman’s blood. Regan screamed and ran to Chaz, burying her face against his chest. She felt the waves of impotent rage radiate from his body. “Why’d you do that?” Chaz demanded. “She was leaving.” “Not quick enough.” Al stepped over Milagra’s lifeless body. “Not much of a cleaning lady, was she? Just look at the mess she left.” He shook his head and clacked his tongue in disgust. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.” Al suddenly lifted his head. Sniffing the air, a corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted snarl. “Come in, Kaelon. How good of you to finally join us.” Peeking over Chaz’s shoulder, Regan watched Kaelon step into view. He appeared bigger somehow, and broader, filling the doorway with a powerful presence. The wild look in his eyes and the stern set to his features as he surveyed the room left her wondering if Al spoke the truth about Kaelon’s involvement in all of this. She cast him a hurt and puzzled glance. “Hello, cousin. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you after all these years.” Al’s voice flowed from his lips with a calm detachment she found alarming considering he had just murdered a woman in cold-blood. “Cousin?” she murmured, glancing at Kaelon for confirmation. He never looked at her, never once acknowledged her speaking. He just continued to stare into the face of evil incarnate. “It’s true, then?” she questioned. Kaelon nodded. “I’m here, Alaric. Let them go.” “You know I can’t do that, Kaelon. She needs to do something for me first.” Al inhaled deeply, expanding his chest as he formed his lips into an O and blew across the room to where Chaz and Regan stood together. Wispy yellow tendrils escaped from his pursed mouth, the vapor curling and slithering towards them like smoky fingers flowing in a breeze. Regan caught the distinct aroma of roasted peanuts and immediately realized the lethal implications. She tore off her jacket and placed it over Chaz’s mouth and nose to help filter out the noxious fumes. He clamped his hand over hers, already showing the first signs of his allergic reaction.

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Coughing and gagging, his knees buckled, pitching his body forward. Regan helped him to the floor. Sitting on the cold wet tile, she cradled his head in her lap. “How much?” she whispered, leaning over him. “How much do you think you got?” His answer came in the form of a weak, almost inaudible hiss. “Enough.” His gaze shifted to look past her, settling on the man who’d done this to him. Even the throes of death couldn’t disguise the betrayal expressed in his eyes. Every breath he took came slow and shallow, his chest barely lifting from what little air he managed to draw through narrowing passageways. Regan was starting to panic. She knew his throat was closing up, his respiratory system was shutting down. He was going into anaphylactic shock. If she didn’t do something quick Chaz was going to die. “Stay with me, baby,” she said, frantically patting his pockets, searching, digging, knowing he never went anywhere without his Epi-Pen. Why couldn’t she find it? Where the hell was it?” “Is this what you’re looking for?” Al asked, rolling the pre-filled syringe of life-saving Epinephrine in his fingers just inches from her face. She reached for it. “Give it to me.” He snatched it away. A chilling realization crept over her. He was going to let Chaz die. “Kaelon, please,” she implored. “Help me. Don’t let him do this.” Kaelon started toward him, his hand reaching for the Epi-Pen. Al pointed the pistol to the center of Regan’s forehead. She could see his finger hovering near the trigger. “Take one step closer and she joins the old lady.” She felt the cold nose of the barrel press against her flesh. Kaelon froze in his tracks. “Let them go, Alaric. This is between us. Give her the medicine she needs for her friend.” A desperate sob exploded from her lips. “Please,” she begged. The tears ran down her cheeks. Placing her hands on Chaz’s chest, she felt him struggle for every breath. Every second that ticked brought him closer to death’s threshold. “Denounce him,” Al stated, drawing the gun down her face. He dragged it slowly over her brow, hesitated near her temple, then continued on, circling her ear to finally rest on a place just beneath her jaw. “Wha…what?” She stammered, confused by his demand. “I don’t understand.” “He wants you to tell him you don’t love me, Regan,” Kaelon explained. “I can’t do that,” she whispered. “You must!” he ground out. “Or you will both die.” Al exerted more pressure on the revolver as he cocked the hammer. She flinched and gave a little cry, hating herself for reacting even that much to his threat. “Say it!” Kaelon screamed. “You’ve got to say it.” He forced the words out of her. “I don’t love you,” she cried out. She’d tell this smarmy bastard holding the gun anything he wanted to hear if it meant saving Chaz. It didn’t change the way she felt, but it still didn’t stop the pain from tearing through her heart. Without any further to-do, Al handed her the Epi-Pen. Jabbing it into Chaz’s thigh, she prayed it wasn’t too late. Al turned to Kaelon. “Now tell her the rest.”

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“Tell me what?” “It’s not important, Regan,” Kaelon told her. “All that matters now is that you saved your friend.” She heard Chaz take a less distressed breath, but knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “He needs medical attention. Let me call an ambulance.” Kaelon turned to the man he called Alaric. “Let her do this and I give you my word I will do nothing to prevent the deal between us from happening.” A slow smile came to Alaric’s lips. “Your word, Kaelon? What good is the word of a coward who chooses to let his father seek the revenge that was rightfully his to mete?” “I did not choose. I was honor bound to obey.” Kaelon straightened his shoulders and said, “Let them go.” Alaric waved the gun at Kaelon’s chest. “Honor.” Alaric spat the word. “It is your precious honor that finds you facing the end of my weapon and turns you helpless to stop me from using it.” “Let them go,” Kaelon said again. “If you let him die, the bargain she struck dies with him.” “What do you mean?” Regan questioned. “I made no bargain with him?” “By denouncing your love for him, you traded his life for your friend’s.” “No!” she cried, pushing herself to her feet. “I never agreed to that. I lied. I take it back.” “A demon needs only to hear the denial to break the bonds of protection that your love afforded me. It cannot be reversed or amended, Regan.” “A tiresome technicality, don’t you think?” Alaric interjected. Regan’s eyes grew enormous. There was only one part of Kaelon’s response that registered. “What did you call him?” “A demon,” Alaric answered, studying his well-groomed nails. “But only by half, on my mother’s side. I guess that would make me a semi-anti-god.” She wavered on unsteady feet and stared at Kaelon, her expression softening to that of wonderment. “You insisted I say it, you practically dragged it out of me, when you knew all along this would happen? Why? Why did you do that?” “Had the decision been left to you, how would you have been able to choose whose life to save?” “I would have presented a third option – my life for the two of yours.” She cast a tender glance toward Chaz, who, though obviously weak and still half out of it, managed to scoot himself to sit against the desk. “And the very reason why I made this choice for you.” Regan covered her mouth with her right hand and clutched her stomach with the other. She felt like she was going to be sick. “Where did you get that ring?” Alaric demanded. Reaching for her hand, he tried to snatch it off her finger. Pulling her hand away, she balled her fingers into a fist, ready to sock him if he came near her again. “This is a trick. It’s a fake. There’s no possible way it could be the same ring.” Alaric started to pace.

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“It looks authentic to me,” Kaelon remarked, glancing at Regan’s hand. “I would even go so far as to say it likely bears my mark.” Alaric looked at the ring again and gripped her wrist. This time she couldn’t break loose from his grasp. “She is wearing it on the wrong hand, you know.” “Is she?” Kaelon questioned, pursing his lips with a curious pout. “Are you sure?” Alaric yanked hard on her wrist, shaking her whole arm in Kaelon’s direction. “Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.” The ring was gone. “Another trick!” he sputtered, thrusting Regan away from him. “It would appear the only tricks around here are the ones your eyes play on you, cousin.” “You played me false,” Alaric accused. “You knew all along I couldn’t use her denouncement against you.” He raised the revolver, aiming it straight at Kaelon’s chest. “I cannot fail this time. I must kill one of you.” Regan saw the threat and reacted. “No!” she screamed, throwing herself in front of Kaelon just as Alaric pulled the trigger. She was bound to catch the full impact of the shot. Or so she should have. At that precise moment the world stopped spinning on its axis. Everything around her slowed to a pace barely visible to the human eye. She saw the bullet expelled from the barrel, she heard the explosion as it discharged, but nothing prepared her for the hand that appeared out of nowhere, snatching the bullet out of mid air at the same instant Kaelon pulled her into his arms to shield her. “You were a sore loser as a child, Alaric, and you are still a sore loser as a man. Four chances were all you were given, and you failed each time. Did I not tell you that love was the most powerful magic of all?” Regan recognized the face of the man admonishing Alaric. It was the wizened old man who had sold her the mysterious hematite ring weeks ago. But the voice…the voice belonged to Professor Bergstrom. As she stared at him in disbelief, she realized something else. Elliot and the shopkeeper were one in the same. Anything else that happened there today was beyond her limited comprehension. She really didn’t think it could get any weirder. Then again, she could be wrong, she decided as she watched Kaelon drop to one knee and bow his head to the man standing before him. That was certainly an odd thing for him to do, she thought, as her gaze jumped from one man to the other. “Arise, Kaelon,” the old man said. “And greet your father.” Kaelon raised his gaze as he stood and found Aerik standing behind the Allfather with Holdar struggling to free himself from Aerik’s meaty grasp. “Look who I found lurking in the alley with the rest of the vermin,” Aerik boomed with a hearty laugh. He gave Holdar a shove, sending him to stumble and join his now cowering son. “Your mother will not be pleased,” the older man told Alaric. ***** Hugging the blanket supplied by an EMT around her shoulders, Regan watched the ambulance pull away from the Chaz Mahal with Chaz strapped in the back to a gurney with IV’s running into both arms. The same medical technician assured her that Chaz was going to be all right.

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She watched Milagra’s four grown children struggle to understand how something like this could happen to their mother, who now sat on the curb trying to explain to them in an excited jumble of English and Spanish the strange dream she’d had when she’d fallen and hit her head. Elliot – she’d never get used to calling him Odin or Allfather – had cleaned up the crime scene with a sweep of his hand, leaving nothing but an ailing Chaz who couldn’t remember a thing except eating from the brunch buffet. He didn’t have the slightest notion how they had gotten from the restaurant to his nightclub, but Regan had promised him a full account of what happened the second he was released from the hospital. That would give her a little time to figure out what she should and shouldn’t tell him. Nobody really knew what happened to Alaric and his father. At least, nobody was telling her what happened to them. One minute they were there, and the next they weren’t. After giving the man called Aerik an enthusiastic hug, Kaelon came up and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him drawing from his amazing strength, and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Do you realize we’ve only known each other a little more than one day?” she said. His hands crept beneath the blanket and rubbed the small of her back. “Sort of makes me wonder what’s in store for us tomorrow,” he said. “Peace and quiet, I hope.” “There is always the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that…” Regan laughed. She really liked the sound of an endless string of days loving Kaelon. “Tell me about this ring,” she urged. “I crafted that ring for the woman I was going to marry. I did not realize at the time I would have to wait so long to put it on her finger.” “And what’s the significance of the marking inside the band?” “The straight line with the curved arc at one end represents a sword. The three circles placed along the shaft signify my past, present, and future.” “Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld,” she said, remembering the Nordic Fates. “That’s right, he said, smiling and sounding a little surprised. “By wearing my ring, Regan, your past, present, and future are forever linked with mine.” A stab of disappointment shot through her. “So it was the ring that brought you here?” It was the ring and not her that brought him to this time and place. “No, Regan. It was you who brought me here,” he assured her, touching her cheek. “The ring just helped me find you better in the dark.” Her head snapped back and her eyes grew enormous. She looked long and hard at him. Studying the strong handsome planes of his bearded face, peering deep into his shimmering blue eyes, feeling his sinewy arms tighten around her, she smiled as it all clicked into place like the tumblers of a complicated lock. She couldn’t explain it, she couldn’t define it, she couldn’t even put a name to it, but it all made perfect sense to her. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Epilogue Five years later… “You seem lost in your thoughts, Father,” Kaelon remarked as he approached Aerik who sat alone on the front porch of Erik’s house. Aerik’s once brilliant red-gold hair had turned to gleaming silver. His father had aged considerably in the years since banishing Alaric and Holdar to dwell in the frozen pits of Hel. Aerik expelled a soul-weary sigh, the weight of a millennium pressed heavily on his shoulders. “Aye, my son. I had expected that once you and your brothers were safe and settled, I would have been released from this realm to join your mother. Yet here I remain, old and very, very tired. I fear the gods have forgotten me.” There was nothing else Kaelon could do to ease the anguish of a man who had outlived his purpose. “You have been a good and faithful servant to the gods,” Kaelon reassured. “I am certain that they have let you live long past most of those who believe in them out of gratitude, not punishment, Father.” “Do you think that Ragnarok has come and gone without our knowledge? Perhaps there is no one left to take me home.” Kaelon placed a comforting hand on his father’s hunched shoulder. It seemed so much smaller and frail then he remembered. Neither he nor his brothers understood why Aerik did not move on to his warrior’s reward. Though difficult, he and his brothers had prepared themselves for his passing long ago. The sound of a whining child caused Kaelon to turn and determine which of Aerik’s five grandchildren was the noisemaker this time. Upon realizing it was his own, he rolled his eyes toward his wife whose belly swelled large with the imminent birth of their second child. He watched her with loving eyes. Under the shade of an old elm, Regan sat in a lawn chair gently rocking a stroller holding their cranky nineteen-month-old daughter, Mia, as she rubbed her burgeoning stomach in lazy circles with the other. With every cumbersome shift of her body, he could see how uncomfortable she was, yet, as with their first child, she never once complained. As she blossomed with such grace and fortitude, she grew more and more lovely with each passing day. He thought his heart would burst from the love that swelled in his chest. He couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the remaining three women who also blossomed with the growing seeds of Eriksson men.

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Kaelon watched his father push himself out of the white wicker chair and stand. “These bones of mine are stiff from sitting so long. I’m going for a walk.” He shuffled to the stairs and climbed down, one by one, as he braced himself on the railing for support. “Where is he going?” Alek asked, joining Kaelon. “Should he be doing that alone? He could hurt himself.” “Leave him be,” said Kaelon as Erik joined them. Birgir watched from Teri’s side, which he’d barely left since arriving. “Maybe one of us should go with him,” Erik suggested. “He seeks a moment’s peace,” Kaelon told them. “Alone,” he added, gesturing toward the circle of pregnant women trying to push themselves out of their chairs. “Our wives appear to need our assistance at the moment more than our aged father.” ***** Aerik moved slowly, taking his time across the grassy meadow. Not as steady on his feet as he had once been, he feared he would stumble and fall if not careful. Still a proud man, if no longer a strong one, he would not embarrass himself in front of his family if he could help it. He felt himself drawn to the woods that lay beyond the pasture. His strength waned momentarily then suddenly grew tenfold. He felt his back straighten as his shoulders broadened and lifted. Stepping livelier, his pace quickened and he moved with the vigor he’d had as a much younger man. Faster he moved until he fairly ran the last distance to stand on the edge of the woods. The temperature dropped sharply as he stepped out of the sunshine and into the shade and shadows. Yet his bones and flesh continued to radiate warmth and vitality. He heard the flutter of wings. Birds, he wondered, as he glanced around for the source. Could it be? Or were the eyes of an old man deceiving him? He had not seen his virtues since the day he had ventured into this future realm. Their constant tittering convinced him they were indeed real, and his joy at seeing them was apparent in his face. “Come closer,” he urged with an impatient wave of his hand. “Let me see you better.” It was then he noticed that the gnarled knuckles were strong and straight, and the skin smooth and unwrinkled. Balling his hands into fists, he discovered the renewed strength of his youth. He inspected his beard and found the hair the bright mixture of red and gold again. The faeries neared, clustering together like shimmering butterflies. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees and touched their wings with unearthly colors he remembered only in his dreams. “She waits for you,” a tiny crystal voice whispered near his ear. His heart pounded. He dared not hope. “Where?” was all he could murmur before his throat tightened and cut off further utterances. “Right here, Aerik,” he heard in response to his question. Her voice touched him like a summer breeze. Kara stood before him just as he remembered. Her youth and beauty took his breath away. Resplendent in folds of crystallized blue cloth draped with ropes of glistening pearls and shimmering stars. A light so pure and bright radiated from her but didn’t hurt his eyes to look into it.

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“Hello, my love,” she said, smiling gently, her eyes glistening with the brilliance of polished gems. “Kara,” he whispered. “You’re as lovely as the day I surprised you in the woods so many, many years ago.” She tossed him a saucy glance and slid the sleeve of her dress off one shoulder. “Do you wish to dally this day with me?” He felt himself grow hard inside his trousers. “I find your offer most tempting, but what would our sons say if they came upon their parents rutting in the woods like a pair of wild boar?” How easy he remembered the words. She threw back her head and laughed. “From the number of grandchildren I see running around, it would seem our sons have taken to rutting with the same talents of their fertile father.” “Aye,” he said. “They have all found their life mates.” “How many young ones are there, Aerik? “There are five with four more soon to come. Each of their wives is heavy with child. Erik fears that if one goes into labor the others will follow as with his horses.” “How blessed we are, Aerik,” she said, coming to stand beside him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her nearer. How good she felt against him. Placing an open palm on his chest, she nestled her head on his shoulder. Together they watched their sons and daughters and their sons and daughters. “The cycle of life goes on,” Kara said softly. ***** “Daddy.” Erik’s daughter Kari tugged on his hand to get his attention. Erik kneeled to her level and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” The child giggled and wiggled tiny fingers in his beard. It made him wonder what the little imp wanted. She not only looked just like her mother, she possessed all the same disarming qualities. He was Play-Doh in her six-year-old hands. “Who’s that lady with grandpa?” Kari questioned, pointing across the field. Shifting his gaze, his heart caught in his throat and he struggled to find his voice. “Kaelon,” he managed to croak. “What’s up, old man?” Kaelon teased. “Need help getting up?” “Look over there,” Erik told him as he stood. “She’s come for him,” Kaelon said. Birgir and Alek joined Kaelon and Erik. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, tall and proud of their heritage, and in one final gesture of honor and fidelity, they pressed their fists across their chests to bid their parents a safe journey home.