Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) by Sky Purington

much need.
    Then they shook their heads at the same time and pulled away.
    Yet he couldn’t help but say, “You look beautiful, Veronica.”
    As if she worked to catch her breath, it took her a moment to respond. “It’s a gorgeous tunic. Thank you again…and for the other materials.”
    Raknar nodded but sighed in frustration. He wanted to drag her into the dark and consume her perfect body. He’d run his tongue over every smooth inch of her, laving and pampering until he found the singular spots that changed her expression and made her his.
    Yet the ghosts from his past were surfacing.
    The heartache.
    The hurt.
    Kjar came alongside and took his horn before pressing a fresh one into his hand. “For you cousin, my friend, let us drink to Odin.”
    Then Kjar handed Veronica a horn. “To Odin?”
    “God for me.” She held up her horn and locked eyes with Raknar. “And to your Odin as well.”
    They tapped horns and drank, never taking their eyes off one another until Naðr and Megan joined them.
    “I hear there was trouble.” Naðr nodded at Raknar. “And that you handled it well. Thank you, brother.”
    And where were you? Though he wanted to ask, he wouldn’t. Not right now. Not with so many ears listening. Because he’d been trained to be the king’s brother. To protect and be discreet. But he knew Naor sensed it which made him again wonder at his absence. How purposeful it might have been.
    The drums started and more and more people flooded onto the shore and around the fire to pay tribute. Raknar clenched his horn and nodded to his brother before turning eyes to the flames, to distraction. Anything to keep him from Veronica.
    Yet the flames made him think of the curl of the waves as she sat in Heidrek’s boat with him earlier. Restless, curious, he had followed them. What he ultimately witnessed still had him confused…adrift.
    They sat out there together talking, laughing, affectionate.
    Everything Heidrek’s mother never was with him.
    Raknar had warred between anger and thankfulness as he watched Veronica. Anger because she wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to charm Heidrek when none of them knew how long she’d be here. It would just be another heartbreak for his son when she left. Then he felt thankfulness because she was offering him something even Raknar himself could not offer.
    Genuine friendship.
    “Hey, are you okay?”
    Startled, he glanced at Megan. He nodded but was pretty sure his head only jerked. “I am. Many thanks.”
    “No, you’re not,” she murmured, voice concerned, a heavy frown on her face. “What’s going on with you, hun?”
    “I’m fine,” he muttered and met her eyes. “I don’t trust the crowd tonight. You and Veronica stay by Naðr’s side, yes?”
    She hesitated before finally nodding. “Sure. Okay.”
    Then he left.
    Just walked away.
    Not down the docks toward the ships but along the shore, between the moonlight and shadows, with nothing but the ease of ocean and wind at his side. The dark mountains loomed silent and brooding, the perfect backdrop to his disgruntled mind. He walked and walked. His thoughts only grew darker until the fire and crowd were long gone.
    Furious, he whipped his now empty horn into the sea.
    Tried to let go.
    Then he crouched and hung his head. He stayed that way for a long time trying to sift through his past and present, trying to figure out how to make it all right.
    “Raknar?”
    He closed his eyes and shook his head. Loki’s balls . “You’re not safe here, Veronica. Go back.”
    Yet he knew he wouldn’t let her go unescorted. He didn’t trust Hamdir and whatever small following he might have.
    “Come back with me then,” she said softly.
    And he should. Just like that. Calmly escort her back. But he was still too volatile. Lost. So he held out his hand and curled his fingers without looking at her. “Come here.”
    When she made no movement, he whispered, “Please.”
    That seemed to be the