Viking's Orders by Anne Marsh Page B

hands that iron blade could chop a man in two.
    He grinned savagely. “You don’t want to fight me.”
    “Oh, but I do .” She shoved, the edge of her blade sliding past his, and he pushed right back. The shock of that hit tore through her arm. He wasn’t holding back. Wouldn’t go easy on her. Good . She’d make him earn his victory.
    “I kill things,” he pointed out. “People. Norse gods and other immortals. I’m not particular.”
    She didn’t know what to say to that.
    “I enjoy fighting,” he continued. “I always did.”
    “That’s likely why Loki chose to make you a berserker.”
    He nodded and glanced down at the sword in his hands. “Yeah. Likely. But his choice doesn’t change how I’ve spent my life. I’ve spent hundreds of years killing, on the battlefield and off. I didn’t mind, either. If Odin’s looking for a few more fighters for his end-time army, signing up isn’t such a hardship. Especially not if you’re the prize.”
    Grinning fiercely, he lunged.
    For long minutes, they parried, matching blow for blow, until with one last push, his sword pinned hers to the ground. She was human now, and her experience as Odin’s handmaiden was nothing compared to the battles he’d fought and won. No signs of berserker rage appeared on his face. No, when she searched his eyes, she saw only determination and a fierce possessiveness. And a predatory watchfulness. When finally he knocked the blade from her hand, he stalked her back to the ship’s mast, slapping his hands on either side of her head when the wooden post hit her back and she could go no farther.
    He was magnificent and he was hers .
    His mouth found hers, his lips covered her lips, and there was no more thinking. No time for strategy, because all she could do now was feel and open up to let him in. His tongue licked and pressed, stroking deeper, as an answering heat built inside her.
    He lifted his head. “Admit you’ve been beat, baby.”
    “No.”
    “Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you.”
    She opened her mouth. Closed it.
    “You stay with me,” he ordered.
    Vikar looked at her, his face demanding, branded with a raw hunger that mirrored the need on her own face. With every hard inch of him pinning her in place, Pure’s belly came alive, and she was wet just remembering how he’d loved her. She didn’t know if he’d been thinking about having sex with her then, but he damned sure was now.
    This man wanted her.
    Did he know just how much she wanted him? He was miles and miles out of her league. He was all rough brute and determined lover. He shouldn’t have come for her. She’d betrayed him, plain and simple, and he’d warned her what the consequences would be. And yet here he was.
    And yet, she wasn’t a trained bitch to heel when he called. Even without the hands-on experience, she knew letting him get the upper hand now would be a mistake.
    “This isn’t a game,” she said.
    “No. This is war, baby.”
    Her heart skipped a beat, an unwelcome fright emotion. Freya’s teeth, she had to learn to control this. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    “I’m a Viking. I take what I want.” His eyes narrowed. “Right now, that would be you.”
    “You sailed here just to make that point?”
    “I have plenty of points to make,” he growled. “I warned you what would happen if you lied to me again.”
    He’d promised to heat her backside. Desire uncurled in her belly.
    “You came here to fight with me?”
    “Fight with you?” His slow smile. “Yes, that too.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “Because I wanted to. Because I want you.”
    How she wanted those words to be true. “Maybe I’m done wanting you. Move along, Viking.”
    He just smiled, damn him. “You do.”
    She pushed, because she knew precisely what he meant. “Prove it.”
    “Come here.”
    She went. It was stupid and foolish and yet felt so good. She wanted this man, this berserker. She should have kept a deck’s length and then some. Instead,