Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) by Erin S. Riley Page A
Authors: Erin S. Riley
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Adult, Historical Romance, Brothers, Ireland, secrets, Norway, Viking, 9th Century, Viking Ship, Hasty Marriage, Irish Bride, Viking Warlord Husband
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the anger that still burned in Alrik's belly, but then Skagi's ill-timed joke had been too much. It was a wonder the man wasn't dead this morning.
And even if Alrik didn't intend to kill Selia, with the mood he was in he was likely to do so, if only accidentally. He was a very strong man under normal circumstances, but when enraged, his strength was legendary. If he touched his wife in his current mood, things would not end well for her.
Selia was so small. Much too fragile for an unpredictable man like Alrik. The night he had killed the priest she had tried to run, too, and he had ordered Ulfrik to stop her. Ulfrik hadn't meant to knock Selia down—he had barely touched her, really—but hurt her he had. Her body had felt so insubstantial under his, her eyes so terrified as she had begged him to help her. Why hadn't he done something? Why hadn't he stopped it?
Once when they were young children, Ulfrik had found a tiny bird on the ground beneath a tree. He had tried to climb the tree to return the hatchling to its nest, but found he couldn't do so with one hand. Alrik had watched his attempts with amusement for a while, then offered to hold the bird while his brother climbed the tree.
When Ulfrik reached the nest he had stretched his hand down carefully for the bird, only to have a mangled ball of blood and feathers handed to him. The crushed bones looked like tiny twigs emerging from the ball, and the small orange beak was slightly open, as if in surprise.
Alrik had insisted he had killed the bird on accident—he had only tried to hold on as the creature attempted to wriggle out of his hand. Ulfrik hadn’t thought of the little bird in years, but now the image of those crushed bones refused to leave his mind.
Ulfrik sensed Alrik’s growing anger, minute by minute, as they tracked Selia, made worse by having to pursue her on foot. She was a clever girl, going inland. But obviously too panicked to attempt to hide her tracks. They had followed her trail easily by the footprints she left in the damp earth.
The rain was a blessing in that sense, but the mud continued to slow them down. Ulfrik cursed under his breath as he once again lost his footing and nearly fell.
"Keep up or I'll leave you behind," Alrik growled over his shoulder. He abruptly stopped as the footprints ended.
He backtracked as he scanned the brush, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand. "There." Alrik pointed to something in the distance, then disappeared from sight as he made his way down the embankment.
Ulfrik squinted in the direction his brother had been pointing. His gaze rested on a small figure lying next to a rock, unmoving.
Selia.
Sliding down the bank, he approached Alrik who cradled his wife’s lifeless body in his arms. Her head lolled back to reveal a substantial trail of blood that had dripped down her forehead and cheek. Selia's face, usually so animated, was waxy and still, the lips a delicate shade of blue.
Ulfrik held his breath. Was she dead? Would he be surprised if she were? Since meeting her, Alrik had been more jealous and volatile than Ulfrik had ever seen him. The poor girl never had a chance.
Alrik's face was stony as he looked down at his wife. Did he feel anything? Did he know—or care—that he was responsible for this?
Selia took in a small breath, and Alrik jumped. "Selia." He patted her cheek.
She moaned, so quietly it could have been imagined, and Alrik's lip turned up in a smile. Maybe he did feel something for her after all. He held her head with one hand while pressing her skull with the other, searching for the wound to staunch the bleeding.
Alrik paused, then felt again. Confusion lanced his face.
"What is it?" Ulfrik asked, although he suspected it was pointless to prevaricate.
"Her head. The bleeding is on this side, but there is something over here. A dent," Alrik said. "Feel this."
Ulfrik studied his brother. It would have been only a matter of time before he figured out
And even if Alrik didn't intend to kill Selia, with the mood he was in he was likely to do so, if only accidentally. He was a very strong man under normal circumstances, but when enraged, his strength was legendary. If he touched his wife in his current mood, things would not end well for her.
Selia was so small. Much too fragile for an unpredictable man like Alrik. The night he had killed the priest she had tried to run, too, and he had ordered Ulfrik to stop her. Ulfrik hadn't meant to knock Selia down—he had barely touched her, really—but hurt her he had. Her body had felt so insubstantial under his, her eyes so terrified as she had begged him to help her. Why hadn't he done something? Why hadn't he stopped it?
Once when they were young children, Ulfrik had found a tiny bird on the ground beneath a tree. He had tried to climb the tree to return the hatchling to its nest, but found he couldn't do so with one hand. Alrik had watched his attempts with amusement for a while, then offered to hold the bird while his brother climbed the tree.
When Ulfrik reached the nest he had stretched his hand down carefully for the bird, only to have a mangled ball of blood and feathers handed to him. The crushed bones looked like tiny twigs emerging from the ball, and the small orange beak was slightly open, as if in surprise.
Alrik had insisted he had killed the bird on accident—he had only tried to hold on as the creature attempted to wriggle out of his hand. Ulfrik hadn’t thought of the little bird in years, but now the image of those crushed bones refused to leave his mind.
Ulfrik sensed Alrik’s growing anger, minute by minute, as they tracked Selia, made worse by having to pursue her on foot. She was a clever girl, going inland. But obviously too panicked to attempt to hide her tracks. They had followed her trail easily by the footprints she left in the damp earth.
The rain was a blessing in that sense, but the mud continued to slow them down. Ulfrik cursed under his breath as he once again lost his footing and nearly fell.
"Keep up or I'll leave you behind," Alrik growled over his shoulder. He abruptly stopped as the footprints ended.
He backtracked as he scanned the brush, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand. "There." Alrik pointed to something in the distance, then disappeared from sight as he made his way down the embankment.
Ulfrik squinted in the direction his brother had been pointing. His gaze rested on a small figure lying next to a rock, unmoving.
Selia.
Sliding down the bank, he approached Alrik who cradled his wife’s lifeless body in his arms. Her head lolled back to reveal a substantial trail of blood that had dripped down her forehead and cheek. Selia's face, usually so animated, was waxy and still, the lips a delicate shade of blue.
Ulfrik held his breath. Was she dead? Would he be surprised if she were? Since meeting her, Alrik had been more jealous and volatile than Ulfrik had ever seen him. The poor girl never had a chance.
Alrik's face was stony as he looked down at his wife. Did he feel anything? Did he know—or care—that he was responsible for this?
Selia took in a small breath, and Alrik jumped. "Selia." He patted her cheek.
She moaned, so quietly it could have been imagined, and Alrik's lip turned up in a smile. Maybe he did feel something for her after all. He held her head with one hand while pressing her skull with the other, searching for the wound to staunch the bleeding.
Alrik paused, then felt again. Confusion lanced his face.
"What is it?" Ulfrik asked, although he suspected it was pointless to prevaricate.
"Her head. The bleeding is on this side, but there is something over here. A dent," Alrik said. "Feel this."
Ulfrik studied his brother. It would have been only a matter of time before he figured out
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