by Bec McMaster
It reminded her a little of Viksholm.
Perhaps the pair of them were not so different, after all.
"Freyja," Rurik called, dragging his shirt over his broad shoulders. "We have a guest."
"Coming!"
The woman who stepped through the kitchen door wore a blonde braid tucked over her shoulder. One of her eyes was green, and the other brown. Árdís blinked, but then the other woman was smiling.
"Welcome," Freyja said, crossing to take her by the forearms. "Rurik said you've had a long journey. I've put a lamb on to roast, and dinner should be ready within the hour. I'm sure you're famished."
"Starving," she admitted, her head turning between the pair of them. "How did you—?"
"Freyja is my twin flame," Rurik said, his eyes warm as he looked at his mate. "She knows everything I know."
His twin flame.
"Oh, I'm so happy for you." She sounded anything but. "No, truly, I am."
Freyja exchanged a glance with him. "Perhaps you'd care for a bath? I have fresh soap."
A bath. Her eyes glazed over. She and Haakon had been making do with streams and cold water, but she was desperate to soak herself in hot water. She missed the thermal springs near her volcano. "Please. That would be lovely." She shot her brother a look. "I though you said she was horribly fierce?"
Rurik's grin turned wolflike. "She tried to stick me with a sword."
"That was one time," Freyja protested, her cheeks flushing. "And you'd stolen my ram. You ate him."
"I bought you another," he replied. "I didn't want to see you starve."
"Rurik said you can manipulate storms, and the earth itself." Árdíscouldn't stop looking between the two of them. There was a camaraderie there that warmed her. "Is she part drekling, Rurik?"
Her brother's lips thinned. "She is something. We're not entirely certain what. There might be dreki blood in her bloodlines somewhere, though I suspect there's something else as well."
"The queen won't like that," she whispered, mind-to-mind with him.
"Well, the queen is not here," Freyja said, proving just how closely linked they were. "Come, I'll show you to the bathing chambers. Rurik found an enormous copper tub somewhere in Europe and brought it back for me. I've filled it already, so I merely need to heat the water."
"Heat the water?"
Freyja captured her hand with a bland smile. Heat radiated through her palms. "Oh." She followed Freyja up the staircase. "You don't have to wait upon me. If you just show me where it is, I can...."
Sit in cold water.
It wasn't as though she could heat the damned thing herself, curse this wretched manacle.
Haakon ground his teeth as he waded into the shallows of the river, the biting cold coming directly from some distant glacier. Not for him the hot bath, or scented soap. He sighed, and made do with his own. It was good to feel clean, and the water ate away at the numbness inside him.
Árdís was safely arrived in her brother's territory, where her mother could not get to her.
He'd done what he'd set out to achieve.
Just one more thing....
Ducking under the surface of the river, he shot back up with a startled gasp, flipping his hair back. The shock of it stirred him. Little pinpricks of sensation prickled all over his skin. Along with the sensation he was being watched.
He knew, even before he turned.
Árdís rested on the bank, her knees tucked up in front of her and her chin resting upon them. She'd given up even pretending to be human at this point, her eyes flaring gold with the dreki within. She wore a skautbúningur of black wool, with golden embroidery down the center, and the color of the gown suited her. Freyja's, he suspected. Damp strands of hair tumbled down her back, and she tugged her brush from her travel bag, dragging it through the ends of her hair as she tilted her face to the sunlight.
Haakon waded to shore, scraping water off his face.
Her eyes ravished him, caressing every muscle of his body as it was revealed. Hungry eyes. They met his, and despite the cold, he felt a flush of blood below.
"Are you trying to tempt me again?" she called, putting the brush aside.
He snatched the dry cloth from her side and briskly rubbed himself down. "Yes. That's definitely why I'm out here freezing my balls off. It has absolutely nothing to do with Freyja taking revenge upon me."
He probably deserved it. A little cold water never killed anyone.
Árdís laughed, reclining on her elbow like a lady of repose. If not for the mess of her tangled curls, she might have been able to sustain the illusion. He liked her hair down like this. It made him want to drag his fingers through it. In the past he'd bought her a silver-backed hairbrush—which had cost him a small fortune—when it became clear she didn't own one. She'd let him brush her hair each night, which often made her almost purr with quiet content, and Haakon had liked those moments the best.
Dragging on his last clean pair of trousers, Haakon did the buttons up, as she watched. The look in those heated eyes made it hard to stuff his dawning erection in. Haakon cursed. "Behave."
"You don't have to put it away," she murmured, shooting him a sly smile.
"I'm fairly certain your brother could see us from the house, if he chose."
"Are you worried he's going to take affront at you seducing his sister?"
"No." Haakon lay down beside her, clasping his hands behind his head. The grassy slope protected them from view, if they both lay down. "But I've only just gotten back into his good graces. I don't wish to push my luck."
"I thought you were allies," she said curiously. "He gave you a necklace to tempt me with, and then sent you in my direction."
"He said you owed me a debt."
"He always had to meddle," she said with a snort.
Árdís rolled onto her hip, one finger stirring through the trail of blond hair that led from his navel into the top of his trousers.
"You're insatiable," he accused.
"I have seven years to make up for." Her gaze grew distant.
"Árdís?"
Nothing. Only glazed eyes.
Then she blinked and leaned closer, biting her lower lip. "I just told Rurik not to look out the window for a while."
Jesus. "I'm not certain whether I like him knowing what we're about."
Árdís rolled her eyes. "We're not 'about' anything yet. My husband is being frustratingly stubborn. And I was vague. He thinks we're having a discussion that shouldn't be disturbed. I hinted we might even kiss."
Husband. He liked that. "I'll claim that kiss."
Their lips met.
A slow and heated kiss. He felt like he could take all the time in the world. Dragging her into his arms, he ran his hands all over her body, caressing the soft wool. Árdís, however, had other ideas.
She straddled him with a wicked gleam in her eye.
"I intend to claim something else." Kissing her way down his chest, she began to unbutton his trousers. "I do feel as though I owe you some sweet torture. Remember the hut?"
"How could I forget?"
Whisper soft lips skated over his abdominals. His cock might as well be a battering ram. Árdís laughed, a smoky sound as she looked up at him, and then she was licking her way lower, her eyes smoldering with their cat-slit dreki pupils. Clever hands slid his erection free, and her mouth swallowed the weeping head of him, surrounding his cock with wet heat.
Mother of kraken. He watched her through slitted eyes, all of his attention locked on the rosy curve of her mouth. Haakon slid both hands through her silken hair, his fingers curling into fists. This was her turn to torture him, but he couldn't help trying to control the encounter. Coaxing her to bob lower, until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.
Bliss. Pure, fucking bliss. He arched his spine, biting his lip as he threw his head back and surrendered to Árdís's expert manipulation.
"I'm not sure... if this is torture," he gasped, hips thrusting helplessly in a quickeni
ng rhythm.
Árdís broke the pressure with a wet popping sound, her hand fisting around him.
"Wait for it. You denied me for days," she whispered, her lips wet with her own saliva, and the glistening trace of his seed.
Swirling a tongue over the crown, she taunted him with lazy, lightening strokes, until he was on the verge of begging.
Those wicked eyes mocked him, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he whispered, flexing up to slide a hand through her hair. Cupping the back of her head, he insisted she rise.
"I'm not done yet."
"And I'm not started." Dragging her into his lap, he captured her mouth, stroking her clever tongue with his own.
Haakon's hands slid under the curve of her ass, grinding her against him. Yes. Árdís slid her palms up the lean flanks of his hips, clearly reveling in the sensation of his heated skin. Her tongue twined with his, even as the backs of her knuckles skated over his quivering abdomen. Darting her hand back down between them, as if she could turn the tables on him once more.
"Enough," he growled, biting her lip.
"I have barely begun."
"A pity you're not the one in charge, then." Capturing her behind the thighs, he picked her up, her skirts bunching between them, and shoved himself to his feet somewhat precariously. "Grab my trousers."
Árdís's breath caught as she clung to his broad shoulders. She did as told, her eyes twinkling merrily as he strode toward the stand of birch trees for some more privacy, with half his ass hanging out.
"I think you enjoy playing the marauding Viking," she said. "You've turned positively heathen in some ways."
He spilled her onto her back on the grass beneath the birches, pinning her to the ground, as his weight settled between her parted thighs. "Have I?"
An intriguing gleam darkened her eyes. Haakon nipped at her lips, sliding her skirts up between them.
He stoked his hand up her thigh, questing fingers finding her wet and swollen. "I think you like wreaking havoc upon me."
"Maybe." Árdís laughed.
He would treasure the sight of her joy for the rest of his life.
Gentle hands threaded through his hair as he kissed her again. It wasn't enough. He didn't want gentle. He wanted her to pull his hair as he drove into her, the heavy weight of his body pressing her into the ground. He wanted skin beneath his hands, and his mouth on her throat and breasts. He wanted inside her.
Now.
Árdís bit his lower lip, and Haakon responded with a low groan. The flex of his hips drove the burgeoning press of his erection against her belly. Yes. A sweet twist of feeling knotted inside him, and their mouths parted with a faint gasp on both their behalf.
"Sweet lord." Haakon exhaled, drawing back just a fraction to catch his breath. The dark need burning in her eyes made his cock clench. "Are you ready?"
He didn't think he'd last long.
"For you? Always."
Haakon drove up into her, and she cried out as joy turned to pleasure.
Hard fingers curled in his shoulders as he rode her, working into her in slow, hard pumps as he sought to find that particular spot she liked. Capturing her knee, he drove it up against his chest, and there.... There it was. He felt her shiver as the head of him brushed against that responsive little pad of sensation within her. When she threw her head back, he kept himself there, grinding his hips in slow circles. A lick of pure pleasure swept up his spine, and his balls tightened as she clenched around him. Couldn't hold it... much longer.
"Come for me," he breathed, cupping her breast and pushing her nipple free of the confines of her groan. Hot lips clamped down over it, and he suckled hard as Árdís screamed, her body pulsing with pleasure.
She raked her nails down his back, no longer hiding what she was. A hiss escaped her. "Mine," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair.
Mine. The word echoed in his ears. Threw him over the edge. He bucked into her, flooding her with his semen. Hard little thrusts that wrung every last ounce of pleasure from him.
And then he collapsed, her knee still locked up between them.
Haakon held himself lightly on his fingertips as she wilted beneath him. Somehow her knee slipped loose, and then those long legs cradled his hips, her heart pounding against his. He rested his elbows on either side of his head, and pressed his face into the crook of her throat.
It took long minutes to catch his breath.
He wanted her so desperately.
Forever.
But he could not keep her caged like a pet bird, its wings fluttering madly as it looked to the skies. He could not ask her to make this choice, while she was trapped.
Love was not a prison. It should never be a cage. Her happiness was all he'd ever desired in this life.
He'd fought dragons, trying to find her. He'd risked it all, just for the chance she was out there somewhere, and he could rescue her.
But he was the one keeping her locked up now.
Haakon's fingers caressed her face as he drew back, and his body slipped from hers. He'd made so many mistakes. Let the raging emotions within him push him into foolish decisions.
But this was not one of them.
"I love you," he said, rearing back onto his knees.
A happy but slightly confused smile dawned on her lips as she swiftly collected the cloth he'd used to dry himself and cleaned herself up.
"I love you too," she whispered, squeezing his hand.
He looked down, taking a deep breath as he reached for the golden manacle around her wrist. He hadn't dared attempt to remove it since the last failure. Just in case he ruined her hopes. "Er þér sjálfrátt fararleyfi."
And this time he meant it.
Golden light flashed and the manacle fell apart, the golden links tumbling into his cupped hands.
Árdís's entire face lit up with wonder, and she curled her thumb and forefinger around her empty wrist. "How did you—?"
"Simple." His hand closed over the cursed thing. "Dúrnir was right. I didn't want to take the manacle off, because deep in my heart I feared I'd lose you again."
"And now?"
He pressed his head to her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her. "I want you to fly. I want you to be free, Árdís." More than I'm afraid to lose you.
"Thank you."
She staggered to her feet, and moved away from him, clouds whipping through the skies above her as she laughed and stripped her gown off.
His breath caught. His stubborn dreki princess.
Utterly glorious.
Wild and free.
Turning in the center of the grass, she held her hands up. Sparkles of light began to dance over her skin and hair, leaving her radiant. Light flared, heat and power spilling over him in a hot wash.
And then a golden dreki stood there, snapping her wings out with a sharp flap.
Haakon's breath caught in wonder. Árdís's scales gleamed the same newly minted gold as her brother’s. But she was much smaller, her lithe limbs sleek and elegant, and her head sharply defined.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, and she preened. He hastily dragged his trousers back up, and then reached out to stroke the supple skin, and those smooth scales.
"Go," he said, tipping his head to the sky. "Fly."
She turned and looked at him, pure joy filling her expression, and then with a sharp flap of her wings, she snatched at her travel bag and launched herself into the sky.
Haakon stared after her, his head tilted back.
Árdís roared her happiness into the world, swooping around the roof of the small cottage. Haakon followed, his bare feet crushing the grass, and his heart strangely lifted. He laughed as she soared over the barn, sending the herd of sheep bleating in a mad panic.
A door banged open, and then Rurik joined him, his face tilted up. "You let her go."
A soft ache in his chest made him smile, a little sadly. "She was never mine to keep." She bel
onged there in the skies, and if she chose to stay with him, then so be it.
A sideways glance. "Perhaps. Now what?"
Rurik's steady gaze held weight.
"Now we kill a dreki queen," Haakon replied, releasing a slow breath. He met the other dreki's eyes. "She thinks she's safe here. That your presence will drive off any who seek to take her. But I don't think your mother's going to just brush off her hands and claim defeat."
"No." Rurik's gaze shuttered. "Árdís doesn't realize, but her coming here is a slap in my mother's face. She's effectively thrown down a gauntlet. They'll come for her. It's just a matter of time."
"I have a plan." He'd spent the entire journey from Akureyri to Rurik's territory thinking of ways to defeat the seemingly invincible dreki queen. For he would not see Árdís's newfound freedom and happiness so compromised.
"I have a feeling Árdís isn't going to like it, is she?"
"No." He smiled grimly. "Because, for it to succeed, I have to get close to your mother. Close enough for her to be able to kill me."
Chapter 22
Rurik found her on the edge of his volcano. She'd erupted into flight, unable to bear her mortal skin for another second longer. Haakon had merely waved her off, and then Árdís had soared into the skies, pure delight streaming through her as she spread her wings.
Her brother had followed, and though she knew it was because he feared intruders, it was so nice to fly with him again.
He'd been the one who'd first pushed her into the skies as a kit.
"I'm faster than you are," she laughed, linking with him.
"I didn't know it was a race."
Arrogant dreki male. Árdís took a half-hearted swipe at his ribs. Then she summoned her power and let it flow over her, melding back into human shape. Wind caressed her skin, and her hair whipped around her as she found herself on bare feet. Árdís stared at her hands. The shift came so easily now. She'd never take it for granted again. Tugging her dress from her travel bag, she slipped it on. "No sign of them. Not yet."
Rurik dressed swiftly. "They're coming."
She sighed.
"Something you want to talk about?" he asked, towering over her.
Her sense of connection to the world had muted with the shift, but the exchange was the depth of her emotions. Árdís stared sightlessly over the landscape. "I don't know."