The Viking's Bride (Viking Warriors Book 1)

by Jessica Knight

  The Viking’s Bride

  Jessica Knight

  Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Knight

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Description

  I tried to run. But there’s nothing he won’t do to have me.

  I was forced to marry a ruthless Viking Warlord.

  Now, I’m carrying his twins.

  Grim is big, fierce, and handsome beyond words.

  But he's a killer, feared by all.

  I can’t believe my father would force me to marry this barbarian.

  Could a man like that ever love anyone, let alone me?

  We’re from two different worlds.

  Being with him in fantasy is far different than reality.

  A happy marriage seems impossible.

  So, I ran. But he found me, put me over his shoulder.

  And brought me back to be his bride.

  I hate how his gruffness makes my body yearn.

  I hate how his touch drives me wild.

  But what if there's more to him than a broken and vicious warrior?

  Could I get the happily ever after I've dreamed off?

  Or will I always be his captive bride?

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Sassa

  The river dares me to fall asleep to the wistful sounds of the water as it rushes by me. I have my back against a large weeping willow tree. The branches hang heavy with leaves that skim the surface of the water. Cherry blossoms float on top of the fresh, cold water, and it looks like a painting.

  I love this place. I always run to it when I need to get away from the castle. My father can be overprotective and bossy, and sometimes, I think he can forget I’m my own person. I need breathing room. I know men make a lot of decisions for women, but I don’t do well following that line of thought. I’ve been told more than once that I have a mouth that does not belong to a lady.

  If being a lady means always bending to a man’s will, then I’m proud of my mouth and what I have to say. I think what I want is important, but it always falls on deaf ears. That’s why I’m here, reading another wistful novel, my back against my favorite tree and watching the sun peek through the branches. It brings me so much peace and joy, which are two things I forget exist sometimes.

  I flip a page of my book, loving how the paper feels between my fingers. Creasing the corner, I close my book and sigh, resting my head against the tree. A butterfly flutters in front of me, showing off its gorgeous blue and white wings. It lands on my arm, bringing a smile to my frowning face.

  “Why, hello there. Aren’t you beautiful,” I mutter, watching its wings flap up and down. It's such a mesmerizing sight. Circles of white, surrounded by sky blue, are emphasized by black outlining.

  It continues to crawl over my hand, so I twist and turn, making sure I can still see this wonderful creature.

  “Thanks for stopping by!" I lift my arm into the air, and the butterfly flies away and over the river, disappearing into the other side of the woods.

  I wish I could do the same.

  My father is a good man. He means well. I truly believe he thinks he knows what is best for me, but when he does, he ends up silencing me, making me think that my wants are not valid. I know if my mum were still alive, she would correct him; at least, the person I’ve made up in my head would. I never got to meet her. She died giving birth to me, and I miss her, even though I never met her. It’s hard growing up without a mother, and because of that, my father has had to fulfill both roles, and it has made life at the castle difficult, now that I’m a grown woman.

  I don’t have anyone to talk about womanly things with, except for my best friend, Thyra, but sometimes, I wish I had an older woman to talk to. Someone more experienced with life. “I miss you, Mum,” I say out loud, hoping she can hear me wherever she is.

  I’ve never told anyone, but I feel so much guilt knowing I’m the reason why she isn’t here. If it weren’t for me, she’d be here, dancing with my dad. It's the one thing my father said they loved to do. She’d be happy. Is she happy now, wherever she is? Was her sacrifice actually worth not being here to watch me grow?

  Those questions are something I battle every day.

  Sighing, I stand and brush the dirt off my dress. I place my hand over my mother’s name, which she had carved into the tree many years ago. Maybe that’s why I love it here so much. This place makes me feel closer to her. I found out about this place from one of her journals, and now that I know about it, I plan to never leave. I can’t imagine a life where I don’t have this place as an escape.

  If it were ever taken from me, I don’t know what I’d do. I’ll fight tooth and nail, say things a lady shouldn’t ever say, and fight my way back to it. My dream is to build a small cottage right by the river, so my escape from reality can become my reality. It won’t happen for a while, but once my mind is set on something, I make it happen.

  A twig snaps in the distance along with the rustling of leaves. It’s the distinct sound of someone coming. “Sassa! Are you here? Ouch. Darn you, branches.”

  I stifle a laugh. Thyra is never one to go outside if she can help it. She is not one to love the woods like I do. She is clumsy and doesn’t like to get dirty. I should save her the trip of venturing farther into the woods, but I love witnessing her effort.

  “Oh, gosh. Silly little tree root. You’re in my way!” she scolds the tree. It has been here way longer than she has, so she's a little out of place. “I could have broken my neck, you know,” she complains. “Sassa! I know you are out here. You always do this to me.”

  I come out from the drooping arms of the large weeping willow and hold my stomach, full-on laughing when I see her. She has leaves in her hair and scratches on her arms, and the hem of her dress is covered in dirt.

  “Thyra, don’t you know to hold your dress up when you're walking through the forest? And how did you get leaves in your hair?”

  “I fell. I slipped on a rock and went straight into a pile of leaves. I risk my life every time I come out here to find you.”

  “As much as I appreciate it” —I pluck a few leaves from her hair— “I don’t ask you to come looking for me. You have no one to blame but yourself,” I chide, pulling a small twig from the tangled strands.

  “True, but who else would tell you that your father has been looking for you for the entire afternoon? He isn’t the type of man you keep waiting.”

  I roll my eyes as I think about my fath
er shouting down the halls for me like a madman. “He can wait. I wait for him all the time. He can give me a few hours of peace.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that, Sassa.”

  “Well, maybe it should. What does he want anyway?”

  “I don’t know. My own father came home, stomping his boots on the floor about how you shall be the reason he gets hanged. He can never find you.”

  “I’m not the type to be found,” I declare, with my chin up and back straight. “If I want to be, I shall be. A woman deserves some peace every now and then.”

  She sighs, looping her arm through mine as we make our way out of the woods and back to the castle. “I don’t disagree with you. I think His Majesty is just worried about you. You just run off. You never tell him where you are going.”

  “I do that for a reason, Thyra.” It is the same conversation we have every time she comes out here and finds me. I’ll never tell my father about the spot my mother used to come to when she was my age. He will ruin it for me and probably use it against me somehow, like by declaring that I can't return here unless I marry.

  Marriage. Ugh.

  I am not getting married unless I love the man. And that is final.

  “I know, I know. I just want to be careful. Your father loves you, but he can be extreme sometimes.”

  We break through the trees. A mile ahead lies the castle, standing tall on top of a hill. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I say, kissing her cheek.

  She tosses her head back and laughs, her red hair flowing in the breeze and the freckles across her nose becoming brighter in the sunlight.

  “You’d probably run away.” Thyra raises her hand, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

  “You’re probably right.” I giggle at the scene of madness I create in my head. “My father would probably get all the guards and go on a search party with torches, accidentally burning down the castle as a result of his brief moment of insanity. He’d blame the guards, but it would probably be entirely his fault. I can see him lighting a curtain on fire and not remembering that he'd done it.”

  I really shouldn’t find it so entertaining that Father would lose his mind over me running away. A part of me wonders if he would look for me out of love, or would it be to prove he still has reins on me?

  I will never run away. No matter how headstrong I am, I love my father and will never put him through that. That’s just cruel.

  Even if the idea of it is sort of hilarious.

  “You’re wicked!” Thyra gasps, nudging my side with her elbow.

  We laugh in unison, strolling up the stone drive that leads to the castle, only to be greeted by Kai and Achim, the guards who stand watch at the gate. They cross their spears in front of us, making a dangerous-looking X. Our laughter dies down when I see the mischievous smiles on their face.

  “Kai. Achim. Please let us through," I order as nicely as possible through clenched teeth. The next time I ask, I won’t be as polite.

  “I don’t know, Princess. The King has been running us ragged looking for you, and now you just want to enter like we didn’t just spend the afternoon getting our asses handed to us by your father,” Kai says. The metal of his spear grinding against Achim’s make bumps appear all over my body. I hate that sound.

  “Whatever happens to your ass is none of my concern. Move. Your. Weapons.”

  “Or what, Princess?”

  I narrow my eyes at Kai and take a step forward. Thyra’s hand grabs onto mine, and I look at her, seeing her shake her head. Her eyes plead with me to stop, but I can never just stop. I refuse to let them walk all over me. “Or I’ll shove your spear so far up your—”

  “Sassa! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!" My father shouts as he exits Thyra’s home in a huff, with an angry-looking second in command.

  Thyra’s father. Lord Troy.

  He points at her and beckons her to him with his finger.

  “I’ll see you around, Sassa,” Thyra mutters as she pushes her way through the guards.

  Her father is a lot more understanding than mine. I know he is putting on a good show for King Leif, but once Thyra gets inside and closes the door, he will just hug her and say how glad he is for her to be home.

  “Goodbye, Thyra.” I watch as my best friend disappears through her front door, leaving me with a scowling father and two guards that don’t know their heads from their asses.

  This is the language that gets me in trouble. And that is why I always have my mouth washed out with soap. As if that will give me the mouth of a lady. Absurd, really.

  “Kai. Achim. Let her through.” My father moves his hands with the order, and they stand straight. The spears come to their sides, and they look straight ahead as if they weren’t completely rude to me just minutes ago.

  I march between them, keeping my chin up and my shoulders back, not giving them another look.

  “Sending me on a wild goose chase isn’t very becoming of you, Sassa.”

  “I never expected for you to chase me, Father. I just went for a walk. It was nothing more,” I sigh, tired of being kept. I feel the urge to run and be free from all of this. Away from my father’s clutches and the expectations that I’ll never be able to meet.

  But this is my life, and I don’t see it changing any time soon.

  Chapter Two

  Grimkael

  I place my hand on my belly, stuffed from the feast, to celebrate yet another victory. The men are drinking beer, getting loud and rowdy, and leaving with their women to go fuck. I growl thinking about the last time I had sex, and it makes me reach for my beer and chug it out of the gauntlet. As much as I want a warm body underneath mine, I truly want something more.

  I don’t know what that something is, but I know that I want it. And when I want something, I fucking get it.

  “I thought you’d be happier,” Einarr, my closest friend and ally, says as he pulls out the chair next to me to sit. He lifts his feet onto the long table, crossing them at his ankles. Einarr plucks a piece of meat off the platter in front of me and pops it into his mouth, licking his fingers.

  “I’m happy,” I grunt, tossing my cup to the side when I realize there is no more beer in it.

  He chuckles, picking another chunk of meat off the bones of the deer. “Right. That’s why you’re sitting over here with a scowl on your face like you’re about to kill a man.”

  “I don’t scowl.”

  He lifts his brows at me with disbelief.

  “I’m not scowling!” I bark, slamming my fist against the table. The force causes a few cups to topple over and spill. Shame.

  “Why are you wound so tight, my friend? We had a great victory. We saved a lot of women and children today. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to get rid of the ache forming between my eyes. “Yes, it is.”

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “Just tired. Apologies for snapping. It’s been a long day.”

  “Aye, it has. Have another beer and relax.” Einarr stands up, stomping over yonder to grab another gauntlet of beer for me. He hands it over, the foam sloshing over his hand.

  “You take it, Brother. I’m going to bed.” I push away from the table, my fingers sliding through spilled beer.

  Einarr grabs my wrist as I head to my cabin. Suddenly, he leans forward, his beer-battered breath infiltrating my personal space. “Are you alright? You aren’t acting like yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Grim—”

  “I said I was fine, Einarr. Let it go." I yank my wrist from his grasp and turn to walk away. I take a few steps and stop. Einarr has been my constant from day one. No one else has stood by my side like he has. He deserves better. “I truly apologize, Einarr. When I’m ready to talk about it, you’ll be the first to know.”

  He gives me a worried stare before nodding and bringing the beer to his lips. “Fair enough.” Einarr hurries ba
ck to the feast, throwing his arm around a random woman and stealing a kiss.

  I disappear into the darkness, my feet carrying me past my cabin and to the cliffs. The sounds of the gathering become more and more muted the farther away I get. A sigh escapes my lips when I’m finally alone, without a single soul around. I turn around to see the glow of the large fire burning bright and licking the sky like it's going mad. I’m glad my people are having a good time, but after today, I’m not up for it.

  I climb down the cliff, placing my foot on the sharp edges of the rocks. The only things keeping me from falling are hope and my own strength. It should scare me. I could fall to my death right now, but then again, death is a known friend. It isn’t something I shy away from. I believe that if I wish to truly live, I must always push the bonds of life, which includes conquering death.

  My callused fingers grip the rough rocks. My muscles burn with every move I make. They are sore and tired from the battle today, not to mention still drenched in my enemy’s blood. Today is a day I will always mark as my greatest victory of all time.

  In the east, there was word of a village being run by foul men. Apparently, they abused women and children, raping the women and making the children work to their deaths — my men. We are Vikings, the most ruthless of men, but the one thing I will not have in my country are men who abuse women like that. My mother died because of that, and my father didn’t even care. When I came to rule, I changed the way my people thought. I changed their beliefs on how they need to live, and now our goal is to save all the women and children under imminent threat. They can either stay at the village with me, or they can try to strike out on their own. We give the choice to them.