Kiss of Pride by Sandra Hill Page A

Norse historian to realize he spoke the truth. There was no Viking country today. Certainly not Norway or Denmark. The closest to the old society was Iceland, whose language was similar to Old Norse.
    “In any case, God was also angry with my family in particular. My father Sigurd the Vicious—”
    “Sid Vicious? Holy cow! The rocker from the Sex Pistols?”
    “Huh? No , Sigurd . . . the . . . Vicious,” he enunciated. “A ninth-century warrior jarl.”
    “Sounds like a WWE wrestler,” she scoffed, but motioned for him to continue when he frowned at her interruption.
    “My father was the seventh son of a seventh son, and he begat seven sons, including myself. Seven is an important number in the Bible, you know, but we can discuss that later.”
    “Okay, so God was angry with Vikings in general, and your family in particular. And?”
    “He was going to destroy us all, but St. Michael the Archangel intervened on our behalf.”
    She rolled her eyes. “What did your family do that was so grievous?”
    He sighed. “So much! But I will speak only of myself. I was a prideful man. So vain and full of myself, though I did not see myself that way at the time.”
    “Pride doesn’t seem so bad.”
    He arched his brows at her. You have no idea! “Because I was so blind with pride, my first wife, Vendela, pregnant at the time, killed herself by jumping off a cliff. I built a castle to glorify my name and never cared that numerous slaves died in the process. I killed indiscriminately in battle, taking the innocent along with the enemy.”
    Her face went pale. He’d only just started and already she was horrified, but he was wrong in his assessment of why.
    “Did you have other children, Vikar?”
    Ah, he saw where this was going now. “I did.”
    “How many?”
    “I honestly do not know. Two daughters with Princess Halldora, though they may or may not have been of my blood. She had the morals of a feral cat. But I do know that I had at least a half-dozen illegitimate boys and girls on my concubines. And there were the thralls, of course. I misdoubt there were any less than twelve.”
    The expression on her face was so cold, he swore he could feel the temperature around them drop to freezing. “What were their names? What happened to them?”
    “I have no idea. I mean, I could name a few, but not all of them.” He had asked, but Mike didn’t think he deserved to know. There could very well be a child of his blood walking the earth today, but he would never know.
    She gave him a look of such loathing, he recoiled. “Men like you make me sick.” On those harsh words, she stood and ran from the restaurant.
    With a sigh of regret, he paid their bill, picked up her tape recorder and purse, and walked out into the parking lot.
    That’s when all hell broke loose. Literally.
    Alex had walked to the far side of the lot near a wooded area and was leaning her forehead against a tree. At the same instant Vikar opened the SUV and tossed her purse inside, he heard two motorcycles enter the area, screech up almost to Alex, rev their motors in place, then jump off.
    A man and a woman leisurely removed their helmets and glanced around, as if they were here to enjoy the scenery . . . or a victim. Lucipires! Alex’s sin scent must have attracted them.
    Whoosh! Faster than thought, faster than any human could run, he was in front of Alex, barring her from the Lucipires.
    “What? Oh my God! What . . . who are they?” She had moved slightly and was staring around him.
    Before their eyes, the man and woman in leathers transformed from beautiful twentysomething bikers to gnarled, giant, red-skinned creatures with open, oozing sores, claw-like hands, and fangs that kept snapping with anticipation. Their eyes were red as well, and pure evil.
    “Run to the car and lock the door,” he told her as he pulled out his sword and the Sig with its special bullets. He would need both if he and Alex were to survive, not that he