Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  TYRA & BJORN

  Viking Glory Book Three

  Celeste Barclay

  Book Title Copyright © 2019 Celeste Barclay. All Rights Reserved.

  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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Lisa Messegee

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Celeste Barclay

  Visit my website at www.celestebarclay.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Aug 2019

  Celeste Barclay

  ISBN-13 978-1-7339004-4-7

  Contents

  Preface

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading Tyra & Bjorn

  Viking Glory

  The Clan Sinclair

  Lord Tennyson may have said, “‘tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” but this book is dedicated to anyone who has fought for their love. And won.

  Happy reading,

  Celeste

  VIKING GLORY

  Leif, Viking Glory Book One

  Freya, Viking Glory Book Two

  Tyra & Bjorn, Viking Glory Book Three

  Prologue

  10 Years Ago

  Tyra Vigosdóttir extended her arm to Bjorn Jansson and jerked him from the ground where she had just knocked him onto his backside. She slid her foot under the hilt of his sword and kicked it until her hand wrapped around the handle. She handed it back to Bjorn with a smirk.

  “Maybe one day you’ll be able to keep up. Today isn’t that day,” Tyra goaded.

  They had been sparring once more, and the result was typical. Tyra knocked Bjorn onto his arse time and again, despite being a woman, two years younger, and only coming to the middle of his chest. They had been sparring since they were children, and at seventeen, Bjorn resented Tyra, who was only fifteen, still being able to best him. He was a renowned warrior in his own right, but somehow Tyra knew him better than he knew himself. She was always at least one, but usually three, moves ahead of him.

  Before Bjorn could thank her, she spun on her heels and marched away, her honey-blonde braid swinging down her back. Bjorn grimaced as he recalled the loathing he had seen in her eyes as they fought. For the longest time, there had been a teasing glint as she bested him, but for the last three moons, there had been anger and disgust. He accepted that he deserved it, but it still stung.

  He moved to the side of the training ring and stepped into the shadows as he took a long draw from his water skin. He watched as Tyra spoke to their friend Strian. Bjorn wanted to grimace at the sight of Strian and Tyra together, but he knew it was not Strian’s fault. Bjorn’s mind wandered to when his friendship with Tyra ended three moons ago. Bjorn remembered as though the events were happening before his eyes. The early spring weather was unseasonably warm and after training, Bjorn looked for Tyra as he usually did. He did not make a habit of talking to her or standing near her, but having been in love with her since he was seven, he was always drawn to her. When he was unable to find her but spotted his cousins Leif and Freya, he wondered where Tyra had disappeared to. She and Freya were best friends and rarely apart, so he made his way to his cousins as he looked around.

  “You seem to be missing your other half,” he grinned at Freya.

  “Tyra was hot and wanted time to soak, so she went to the fjord.”

  “Alone?” Bjorn’s heart began to race. Tyra was a force to be reckoned with when she was armed, but she would be vulnerable while undressed and alone. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “She said she wanted some time to herself,” Freya shrugged. “We aren’t one person. We do things alone.”

  Bjorn grunted as he walked to the tree line, then ran until he spotted the fjord to his left. He slowed his pace, cautious not to make his presence known in case someone did lurk within the trees watching Tyra. He drew his sword as he approached the shore. He scanned the area, but could not hear nor see anyone else. His chest was tight with alternating pangs of fear and anger for Tyra’s foolishness. He sheathed his sword and waded into the water. He had seen Tyra’s blonde head at the surface as she soaked the rest of her body. She spun around, with a knife pointing at him, when she heard his splashes.

  Tyra’s eyes opened wide as she took in Bjorn standing knee-deep in the water with a look of fury on his face. She had seen him angry countless times, his wrath usually directed at her for beating him, but this rage was far more intense than she had seen before.

  Bjorn’s mind screamed that his chest and cock would detonate simultaneously as both throbbed. He had been with more than one woman, and he had seen different body types over the years, but he had seen nothing as beautiful as the water nymph who stood before him. She was exquisite, with long legs and slender hips. She had broad shoulders and muscles from years of training. Her breasts were not as large as those usually drew him, but they would easily fill his hands. He forced his eyes from the thatch of dark hair that protected the place he most wanted to be at that moment.

  “Bjorn?” Her hushed tones barely carried to him.

  He did not respond except to continue walking toward her as he pulled his fur cloak from his shoulders. He stopped just inches before her and swung it around her shoulders before pulling her into his embrace.

  “What were you thinking?” Tyra did not miss the real distress in his voice. “Why would you come here alone?”

  “I wanted time to think.”

  “About what? What could be so important that you would allow yourself to be vulnerable? You might have a knife, but what if there had been more than one man, and you’re already naked?” His voice hitched as he squeezed his eyes shut to banish the image forming in his mind. He was certain he might be ill if he allowed his imagination to envision her being assaulted.

  “I needed to think about how I felt about someone.”

  A crushing weight descend upon Bjorn’s shoulders as he scooped Tyra into his arms and walked to the shore.

  “Who?” he grunted.

  Tyra’s blue-hazel eyes gazed into Bjorn’s brown ones. They had looked each other in the eyes countless times; after all, they had known each other since Tyra’s birth. This time the electricity fired between them.

  “You,” she mouthed, no sound coming out despite her effort.

  Bjorn lowered her to the ground as he brushed away the hair sticking to her neck. He lifted the soaking strands from beneath his cloak.

  “Me? What were you thinking?” his voice came out barely more than a whisper as his breath brushed across Tyra’s nose and cheeks.

  “That you would never hold me as you are now,” Tyra smiled but was unable to look at Bjorn, instead staring
over his shoulder. She shocked herself that she just admitted that aloud. He had just seen her naked, and now she was confessing that she desired him. She had never been so exposed.

  “Then we are opposites in yet another way. My mind can’t stop thinking of finding ways to stand as we are now.” He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheeks. “Tyra, you frightened me coming here alone. I can’t bear anything happening to you. Do you not realize how precious you are?”

  Tyra had no answer for that question. She had not felt precious since her parents died. She swallowed several times as she tried to keep the lump in her throat from choking her.

  “Oh, Tyra,” Bjorn murmured before his mouth descended to hers.

  His kiss was soft as he did not want to scare her. He was not blind to the fact she kissed other boys before, having seen it more than once. He nearly tore each boy apart as he struggled to contain his jealousy. He also was aware she could feel the hard ridge within his leather pants. She opened her mouth and swiped the tip of her tongue against the corner of his lips. Bjorn dove in, needing no further invitation. He cradled her head as he tightened his hold around her waist. She mewled as his tongue tangled with hers, and her hands ran over his chest to his shoulders before weaving into the hair at his nape. She pressed her body against his as his cloak slid open. Her breasts caught between them, the tight peaks that were her nipples puckered from the cold water and desire. His hand roamed up her ribs until he swept his fingers along the side, and at her moan, he pressed it between them. He groaned as his hand filled with her supple flesh.

  His cock continued to strain against his pants, but his conscience strained too.

  “Tyra, we have to stop.” Bjorn pulled away.

  “Why?” It was her turn to question him. “I’ve coveted this for so long. It’s unreal that I’m standing here with you.”

  She dropped her head as her hair cloaked her face.

  “I never imagined you would ever want me,” she stated with honesty that tore at Bjorn.

  “I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember.” Her honesty deserved the same from him.

  “Then don’t stop. Bjorn, be my first.”

  Bjorn wanted to yell that he would be her only, but he was not ready to make such pledges. He looked into Tyra’s eyes, earnestness filling them. It was not just the heat of passion, but a steady gaze. There was nothing he desired more in that moment than to introduce Tyra to making love, initiating her into the pleasures of the skin. He drew his cloak from her shoulders and laid it on the ground. Tyra lowered herself onto the fur as Bjorn undressed, careful to keep his sword unsheathed and within reach. He would not risk her safety. He kneeled between her legs as she reached for him. He rested on his forearm as his hand traveled to the juncture of her thighs. He nearly spilled when he discovered how ready she was to welcome him. His fingers moved as he watched her cheeks flush. As her body crested, he thrust into her. She clenched around him, her inner muscles along with her thighs and arms. He drew out the moment until they both were beyond the point of rational thought.

  “Look at me, Tyra.”

  “I want to, but it’s too much. I can’t keep my eyes open. Bjorn,” she moaned at the end.

  Bjorn pulled himself loose at the last moment, bending his head to kiss Tyra once more. It was the most tender kiss he had ever shared. They spent another two hours on the beach as he introduced to her other ways in which they might share their attraction. When they accepted they should not remain away from the homestead any longer, Bjorn led her to the wall and watched as she went to her aunt and uncle’s longhouse.

  Bjorn had not been this lighthearted since before his parents died when he was five. He was excited to see Tyra the next morning, but he spotted her standing at the door of Strian’s home. They were locked in a tight embrace. Bjorn’s world fractured around him as he blinked. He watched as they broke apart and spoke. He tried to resign himself to seeing the woman he loved with his best friend but he could not.

  They trained as usual that day, but he avoided Tyra while they were on the field. He saw her confusion, but he struggled to be near her. When two other shieldmaidens, Helga and Gunnhild, approached him, he welcomed their attention. He agreed to meet them that night, and he was aware Tyra witnessed him with the two women. He did not miss the hurt that flashed across her face as she turned her back on him. That night, Bjorn met both women and went through the motions, but his mind and heart would not move past Tyra.

  When Tyra arrived at the sparring ring the second morning after what she was convinced had been a life-altering experience, she ran straight into Bjorn’s shoulder. He reached out and caught her, but she pushed her hands up as she broke away from him.

  “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again, you man whore.”

  Bjorn knew he had upset her, but he had not imagined she would push him away.

  “Pardon me. You wouldn’t want Strian to see you.”

  “Why would he care?”

  “I saw you with him yesterday. I guess now that you’re broken in, you are ready to move on.”

  Bjorn was unprepared for the fist that plowed into his face, nor was he ready for the next one that came under his chin. He reached for his nose, opening his belly for the punch that landed there. As he bent low, Tyra grasped his shoulders and drove her knees into his cods.

  “You arse. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of our parents’ death. We were consoling one another.”

  Bjorn’s look of shock was comical, but Tyra was so revolted by him that she found no humor in his realization.

  “I hate you, Bjorn Jansson. Perhaps one day I will only mildly dislike you, but right now, I wish you were dead.”

  Tyra ran away, and Bjorn tried to go after her, but the pain—physical and emotional—doubled him over.

  One

  Present Day

  Bjorn watched Tyra as she trained with Freya. He had been watching her like a hawk for the past several months. For years he had a sixth sense when it came to Tyra, always knowing where she was, but an enemy injuring her in a battle against Hakin Hakinson made him even more vigilant. During that battle, she saved his life by moving between him and an axe-wielding giant who had already broken his arm. Tyra stabbed the man through the belly but took the axe to her chest before Bjorn had the chance to push her aside and sink his blade into the giant’s chest. If Tyra had not protected him, Bjorn would be dead, rather than watching over her like a nursemaid. He would admit that she impressed him with her improvements in such a short time. It had been four moons since her injury, and she was nearly back to full strength. He watched her sweep her leg against Freya’s knees and flip his cousin over her shoulder. Freya rolled and came back to her feet as she swung her shield, pushing Tyra back several steps. Both women locked swords as they bared their teeth at one another. Tyra brought her shield up between them as Freya hacked her sword into the side of Tyra’s shield where it lodged. Freya headbutted Tyra’s forehead. Both women threw down their swords and shields and launched themselves at one another as they rolled on the ground. There was no way to keep up with who had the advantage as their positions changed. A smile emerged as he watched the two women go from baring their teeth and hissing at one another to smiling, then giggling, as they tangled together.

  “It’s nice to hear my wife laugh. There were a few months when I thought she didn’t know how,” Erik Rangvaldson mused as he watched Freya pin Tyra to the dirt.

  Bjorn’s upper body lurched forward, but he forced himself not to take a step forward. He waited a heartbeat, then relaxed when Tyra’s knee pushed Freya from her.

  “We also thought Freya had forgotten how to laugh. She may have fallen in love with you, but she certainly appeared not to like you,” Bjorn laughed as he turned to look at his cousin by marriage.

  “History has a way of repeating itself, don’t you think?”

  Bjorn’s laugh died as he glared at Erik. Erik and Bjorn had become friends, and Erik had easily joined Bjorn, Leif
, and Strian’s tight-knit friendship. It was not because Erik married Freya. The bonds of friendship began before that when they fought against their common enemy, Hakin Hakinson.

  “I never would have told you about Tyra if you were going to remind me. I prayed you were too drunk to remember what I said.”

  “Not nearly drunk enough, but you were definitely drunk enough to make your confessions. But don’t worry. They’re safe with me. I have said nothing even to Freya, though I’m sure she suspects the truth.”

  During the week of Erik and Freya’s wedding celebration, they had all gotten more inebriated than usual. During a drinking binge, Bjorn confessed his feelings for Tyra to Erik as the men watched Freya and Tyra dancing together. Another man cut in to dance with Tyra, and Bjorn had been beside himself. Erik kept him from making a fool of himself by interrupting Tyra’s dance.

  Tyra tolerated Bjorn after years passed and her anger cooled. They had antagonized one another since childhood, then there had been a period after their liaison where Tyra refused to look at him unless they were forced to spar. Bjorn bore several scars from Tyra’s resentment. These scars came from the nicks her sword and knife cut, along with the wounds her words caused. His guilt had diminished little over the years, and his regret was his constant companion. Now, they still antagonized one another, but the bite was not there in Tyra’s words or actions.