Odin made a large target.
A target that had just unsheathed a lethal silver blade. “That’s no way to be talking to me. I’ve got your life in my hands, boy. I’d think you’d be bargaining with me. You’re mercenary. You’re for sale. It shouldn’t matter who you sell yourself to.”
Vikar bared his teeth. “Doesn’t matter. Pure was mine .”
Odin bared his teeth. “She was mine first.”
“Not anymore.”
“I could send them to cut you down.” Odin waved a bloody hand towards the Valkyrie walking the perimeter of the battlefield. Collecting warrior souls to carry away.
“Later,” Vikar promised.
Odin pursed his lips. “True. A fighter like you, this would hardly be your last battle.”
Vikar grinned. “I’ll give you many more chances to harvest my soul, god.”
“Because you’ll be chasing my Valkyrie from one battlefield to another,” the god groused. “Pure is a cold one. Is she worth this effort on your part?”
A lusty smile split his face as he nodded. “She’s not cold in my arms.” When the god looked intrigued, Vikar made his proposal. “When she is near, I control the bloodlust. But there will still be fights,” he vowed, pushing aside the anger. “Other fights you might be interested in. You leave me here, I’ll give you what you really want.”
Nothing would stop Vikar from getting to Pure.
He had a debt to collect.
Chapter Eight
She missed her Viking.
Pure had walked away from Vikar, left him facing off with Odin, but now that it was too, too late, she wanted to go back. Wanted to claim him from her father and demand he be hers. Feelings sucked. This gnawing ache was not what she’d wanted when she’d struck her bargain with the god, and two weeks hadn’t lessened the pain.
Leaving had been remarkably simple once she’d abandoned her scruples and asked herself what Vikar would have done. Since the obvious answer was commandeer a ship , she’d stolen herself a boat. Not a big one, because she wasn’t a fool, so the small motorboat meant she sailed close to the coast with her new crew. She’d picked up two dark elves and a wight who was clearly all too happy to be at sea again. It didn’t matter where she went. She wouldn’t spend her freedom pining for a Viking berserker. She wouldn’t .
She’d go a-Viking. There were hundreds of different destinations to the west and east. For tonight, however, this pocket beach was her limit. Her sailors had pulled the boat up onto the shore and were sprawled on the sand near the fire, but she’d chosen to sleep on deck.
The setting sun cast a blood-red shadow. Which was fitting when the dragonship sailed out of the bloodbath headed straight for her beach. One of her new men cursed, scrambling for weapons.
Too little. Too late .
The dragonship sailing towards them was truly terrifying, a feral dragon head scowling from the prow. The hooked maw and ferocious teeth made it seem as if the artist had caught the beast mid-roar. Her head knew the beast’s rage was merely wooden artifice, but her heart beat harder, instinctive fear punching adrenaline through her blood. The dragonship cut through the water fast and fierce, the shallow draft of the beach no obstacle.
On board, men roared triumphantly, scenting battle, their shields up as they jumped clear before the longship hit the sand. The impact shuddered through her body.
He’d come for her.
The Vikings spilled ashore with a fearsome roar, and she recognized the big body driving through the surf, shield raised. He vaulted one-handed over the side, his booted feet hitting the water. The spray he kicked up didn’t hide the fierce grin on his face beneath the iron helmet.
“Pure,” he crooned. “Time to settle up, baby.”
She pulled her blade. This boat was hers . He took nothing now she didn’t choose to give.
###
After collecting his longship from its hiding place up the Alaskan coastline, Vikar had found fast water and ridden the sea’s punch, driving
A target that had just unsheathed a lethal silver blade. “That’s no way to be talking to me. I’ve got your life in my hands, boy. I’d think you’d be bargaining with me. You’re mercenary. You’re for sale. It shouldn’t matter who you sell yourself to.”
Vikar bared his teeth. “Doesn’t matter. Pure was mine .”
Odin bared his teeth. “She was mine first.”
“Not anymore.”
“I could send them to cut you down.” Odin waved a bloody hand towards the Valkyrie walking the perimeter of the battlefield. Collecting warrior souls to carry away.
“Later,” Vikar promised.
Odin pursed his lips. “True. A fighter like you, this would hardly be your last battle.”
Vikar grinned. “I’ll give you many more chances to harvest my soul, god.”
“Because you’ll be chasing my Valkyrie from one battlefield to another,” the god groused. “Pure is a cold one. Is she worth this effort on your part?”
A lusty smile split his face as he nodded. “She’s not cold in my arms.” When the god looked intrigued, Vikar made his proposal. “When she is near, I control the bloodlust. But there will still be fights,” he vowed, pushing aside the anger. “Other fights you might be interested in. You leave me here, I’ll give you what you really want.”
Nothing would stop Vikar from getting to Pure.
He had a debt to collect.
Chapter Eight
She missed her Viking.
Pure had walked away from Vikar, left him facing off with Odin, but now that it was too, too late, she wanted to go back. Wanted to claim him from her father and demand he be hers. Feelings sucked. This gnawing ache was not what she’d wanted when she’d struck her bargain with the god, and two weeks hadn’t lessened the pain.
Leaving had been remarkably simple once she’d abandoned her scruples and asked herself what Vikar would have done. Since the obvious answer was commandeer a ship , she’d stolen herself a boat. Not a big one, because she wasn’t a fool, so the small motorboat meant she sailed close to the coast with her new crew. She’d picked up two dark elves and a wight who was clearly all too happy to be at sea again. It didn’t matter where she went. She wouldn’t spend her freedom pining for a Viking berserker. She wouldn’t .
She’d go a-Viking. There were hundreds of different destinations to the west and east. For tonight, however, this pocket beach was her limit. Her sailors had pulled the boat up onto the shore and were sprawled on the sand near the fire, but she’d chosen to sleep on deck.
The setting sun cast a blood-red shadow. Which was fitting when the dragonship sailed out of the bloodbath headed straight for her beach. One of her new men cursed, scrambling for weapons.
Too little. Too late .
The dragonship sailing towards them was truly terrifying, a feral dragon head scowling from the prow. The hooked maw and ferocious teeth made it seem as if the artist had caught the beast mid-roar. Her head knew the beast’s rage was merely wooden artifice, but her heart beat harder, instinctive fear punching adrenaline through her blood. The dragonship cut through the water fast and fierce, the shallow draft of the beach no obstacle.
On board, men roared triumphantly, scenting battle, their shields up as they jumped clear before the longship hit the sand. The impact shuddered through her body.
He’d come for her.
The Vikings spilled ashore with a fearsome roar, and she recognized the big body driving through the surf, shield raised. He vaulted one-handed over the side, his booted feet hitting the water. The spray he kicked up didn’t hide the fierce grin on his face beneath the iron helmet.
“Pure,” he crooned. “Time to settle up, baby.”
She pulled her blade. This boat was hers . He took nothing now she didn’t choose to give.
###
After collecting his longship from its hiding place up the Alaskan coastline, Vikar had found fast water and ridden the sea’s punch, driving
Similar Books
