the dragonship up and over the waves with no holds barred. Sails up, oars out, sailing close to the wind and riding that edge between speed and sheer, utter disaster.
Pure wasn’t his long-lost Astrid, although she was every bit as strong as his first love had been. Astrid would have liked this female. Too much . He could never have been fortunate enough to keep both by his side, so he was lucky to have had first one and then the other.
And he’d let. Her. Go.
No .
Nothing and no one would stand between him and Pure. He’d take the chance to tell her how he felt. He’d find some way to convince her, no matter how many nights—or heated touches—it took. Hel , he half-hoped Pure took convincing.
He’d pulled with his crew because each stroke brought him closer to where he wanted to be. At sea, he didn’t need a map to get his bearings—he’d learned as a youth to watch the water, to find the familiar currents, and those landmarks would guide him clear and true. He’d crossed entire seas that way.
Now, Pure was his landmark.
His female . Vikar had never hesitated in battle before and he didn’t hesitate now. He one-armed it over the side, the shallow water spraying up around his boots as he roared triumphantly.
There .
On the beach. His beast resented the male crew she’d surrounded herself with. The man, however, simply drew his blade and charged for the shore. He didn’t know if she’d resist. If she’d fight him on this. He’d given Odin his promise to provide the god with an unending supply of bloody battles. In exchange, the god had let him go. He had no date with Valhalla today.
“Don’t kill them,” he gritted out to Var, and his second nodded, surging ahead. Leaving the crew alive went against the grain, but these sailors hadn’t realized they were baiting the beast. Likely, they were good men just doing their jobs. Even if he wanted to tear them away from her. Hurt them. No. He’d show her he was more than the beast.
His feet hit sand and he raked the beach, looking for her. There, standing, legs apart on the deck of that pitifully small ship. He bared his teeth in a grin. His was larger . He’d convince her and she’d come with him. Or he’d take her.
Taking her was good.
He smiled slowly, meanly, and her eyes widened.
Yes. His Pure knew exactly how much trouble she was in.
Ignoring the melee on the beach behind him, he stalked towards her. Her four sailors were a truly pitiful match for his Viking crew.
Nice . He was supposed to court her. Show her just how nice he could be. That had been Var’s advice. If she wanted nice, however, she’d picked the wrong Viking. And pick him she had. She’d gifted him with her virginity, begged him to touch her, and that meant it was far too late now to recant or rethink.
She’d given him a taste, and he was back for more.
###
Vikar was a glorious sight. Wild and powerful and free. And bare. Chest naked, his muscles bulged as he swung his big sword, black hair flying around his face as he stalked towards her. He didn’t even look as he brought the hilt of his sword down on the head of one of her hapless sailors. The man crashed gracelessly to the ground, but Vikar didn’t stop.
No. He just kept right on coming.
Her big, sexy beast. And he was a beast. She had to remember that. And yet, when he slapped a hand on her ship’s railing and vaulted easily over the side, all she could remember was what it felt like to touch him. To have those big, hard fingers in her and on her. Mastering her. Pleasuring her.
“You left me,” he growled. The length of the deck between them was suddenly too little space.
She pointed her blade at him. “Yes,” she snapped. “It was part of the job requirement.”
His sword came up, meeting her blade with a loud clash. One battle-scarred hand gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. A gorgeous sword, the pommel and guard all copper and silver wires. The work was strangely delicate. And yet in Vikar’s
Pure wasn’t his long-lost Astrid, although she was every bit as strong as his first love had been. Astrid would have liked this female. Too much . He could never have been fortunate enough to keep both by his side, so he was lucky to have had first one and then the other.
And he’d let. Her. Go.
No .
Nothing and no one would stand between him and Pure. He’d take the chance to tell her how he felt. He’d find some way to convince her, no matter how many nights—or heated touches—it took. Hel , he half-hoped Pure took convincing.
He’d pulled with his crew because each stroke brought him closer to where he wanted to be. At sea, he didn’t need a map to get his bearings—he’d learned as a youth to watch the water, to find the familiar currents, and those landmarks would guide him clear and true. He’d crossed entire seas that way.
Now, Pure was his landmark.
His female . Vikar had never hesitated in battle before and he didn’t hesitate now. He one-armed it over the side, the shallow water spraying up around his boots as he roared triumphantly.
There .
On the beach. His beast resented the male crew she’d surrounded herself with. The man, however, simply drew his blade and charged for the shore. He didn’t know if she’d resist. If she’d fight him on this. He’d given Odin his promise to provide the god with an unending supply of bloody battles. In exchange, the god had let him go. He had no date with Valhalla today.
“Don’t kill them,” he gritted out to Var, and his second nodded, surging ahead. Leaving the crew alive went against the grain, but these sailors hadn’t realized they were baiting the beast. Likely, they were good men just doing their jobs. Even if he wanted to tear them away from her. Hurt them. No. He’d show her he was more than the beast.
His feet hit sand and he raked the beach, looking for her. There, standing, legs apart on the deck of that pitifully small ship. He bared his teeth in a grin. His was larger . He’d convince her and she’d come with him. Or he’d take her.
Taking her was good.
He smiled slowly, meanly, and her eyes widened.
Yes. His Pure knew exactly how much trouble she was in.
Ignoring the melee on the beach behind him, he stalked towards her. Her four sailors were a truly pitiful match for his Viking crew.
Nice . He was supposed to court her. Show her just how nice he could be. That had been Var’s advice. If she wanted nice, however, she’d picked the wrong Viking. And pick him she had. She’d gifted him with her virginity, begged him to touch her, and that meant it was far too late now to recant or rethink.
She’d given him a taste, and he was back for more.
###
Vikar was a glorious sight. Wild and powerful and free. And bare. Chest naked, his muscles bulged as he swung his big sword, black hair flying around his face as he stalked towards her. He didn’t even look as he brought the hilt of his sword down on the head of one of her hapless sailors. The man crashed gracelessly to the ground, but Vikar didn’t stop.
No. He just kept right on coming.
Her big, sexy beast. And he was a beast. She had to remember that. And yet, when he slapped a hand on her ship’s railing and vaulted easily over the side, all she could remember was what it felt like to touch him. To have those big, hard fingers in her and on her. Mastering her. Pleasuring her.
“You left me,” he growled. The length of the deck between them was suddenly too little space.
She pointed her blade at him. “Yes,” she snapped. “It was part of the job requirement.”
His sword came up, meeting her blade with a loud clash. One battle-scarred hand gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. A gorgeous sword, the pommel and guard all copper and silver wires. The work was strangely delicate. And yet in Vikar’s
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