Beast of Burden by Marie Harte Page A

small, an odd feeling for a valkyrie to have. She’d been bred of Odin’s lightning and Freya’s will but born to mortal parents. The heart of gods, the flesh of humans. And now in her prime, she was a warrior strong and true with the muscle and battle sense to take on even these beasts. Her heart raced at the thought, wondering if— how —she’d defeat them if they chose to fully engage.
    “I called you by your name,” Avarr rumbled. Eira meant snow in Old Norse. “And you’re little. Little. Snow.” Avarr leaned closer, and she swore he inhaled her and purred.
    No. Avarr didn’t do things like that. He had to be teasing her. Another first. Except she found it annoying. She wasn’t little, by any stretch of the imagination.
    Hall sighed and crossed his arms over his broad chest, bringing attention to his thick forearms.
    “What? Nothing to say, Hall?” she snapped. Her stupid white hair had been responsible for Eira . She’d loved her human parents, but really? Snow? Thank the gods she hadn’t been born with buckteeth. They might have called her Bucky for an eternity.
    “What is there for him to say?” Avarr asked. “It’s your name, is it not?”
    “Have we caused offense? It wasn’t our intention,” Hall apologized.
    As usual, the mere scent of a fight was enough to pull them back from a confrontation. So disappointing.
    “Ech. I’ve better things to do than waste my time on beasts of burden.” She sneered then turned on her heel and left, wishing they’d stop her. Yell at her. Fight her. Something.
    As usual, they did nothing of the kind.
    She joined her friends in the feast hall, no longer pleased over their earlier victory on the battlefield, and wondered if any of the falcons would object to her using them as target practice for entertainment later. Probably. Birds could be such pussies about losing a limb.
     
    Avarr clenched his fists. “I can’t continue like this anymore. I’m through.”
    Hall caught his shoulder and stopped him when Avarr would have followed Eira inside. “Not yet.”
    “Always not yet. It’s been fifty years already. I’m not getting any younger.”
    Hall snorted. “You’re not getting any older either.”
    Though not brothers, they shared a common beast. Freya’s children all possessed god-like abilities, and she’d gifted them with the eternal ability to shift form. While many boars, falcons, and eagles filled her halls, few battle-cats roamed the lands. Used as guides to pull her chariot and entrusted with Freya’s safety, he and Avarr had a special place of honor among all in the Norse pantheon. Try telling that to the sexy hothead who had the incessant need to wield an actual weapon. Like her friends, she disdained his lack of a sword. Apparently the ability to crush an opponent’s skull between his teeth meant little to her and the other braggart warriors needing axes and bows to do damage.
    “This is intolerable. Her insults, her scathing looks.” Avarr’s eyes lit with battle lust. Not a good thing with so many provocative shifters in residence for the afternoon meal. “We end this. Right the fuck now.” He gave Hall a mean smile. “And I do mean the fuck now.”
    “We’re close. Bear with it just a bit more.”
    Avarr seethed, and Hall couldn’t blame him. Ever since they’d laid eyes on Eira, they’d been in a constant state of lust and frustration. While both men had often shared women before, Eira was different than the tame females they’d pleasured. Mighty, full of life, gorgeous. She possessed a silken fall of long white hair, violet eyes framed by a forest of dark lashes, and a full, provocative mouth. Her attitude got him hard every time. It was a constant exercise in restraint not to take her over his shoulder and carry her away to his den. To be his and Avarr’s forever.
    Freya demanded they wait until they’d fulfilled their duty. Until they were “ready.” She’d promised them eternal riches and rewarded them