The tall woman paused and regarded her solemnly. “What is your name?”
“Naya.” Shit. She’d given her real name instead of the one on her driver’s license. “Where are my clothes?”
“We had to cut off your jeans and your shirt was ruined when your wound opened up again. We’ll find you new clothes.” Irja walked to the door and turned before opening it. “Eat the soup. It will give you strength.”
Naya looked at the bedside table and saw a big bowl of delicious-smelling broth. She turned to offer thanks, but the woman had slipped out without a sound.
The soup tasted of herbs and chicken, filling without being fatty. Naya gave up on the spoon. She picked up the bowl and drank deep mouthfuls. Her stomach purred contentedly.
Next to the bowl she found a pitcher of water and a glass. She drank half the water straight from the pitcher. Her bladder quickly protested. Her eyes swept the room and settled on a door in the corner. She prayed it was an en suite bathroom.
As she tried to get out of bed, her feet went out from under her. Using the bed for support, she pulled herself up and focused on a nearby chair. Holding the chair, her next target was the window seat, and then she finally reached her goal. She twisted the handle and exhaled in relief when the door opened to reveal a bathroom.
What a ridiculous way to cross a room. She’d never been this weak.
After her round-trip to the bathroom, she had to lie down to catch her breath. To distract herself, she sorted through disjointed memories, piecing together where she’d been before this place.
She’d been hot, burning hot. One of the handlers from the lab had found her at a bus stop. A silver SUV stopped.
Before she figured out the connection between the two, exhaustion claimed her. She relaxed into the soft pillows and forced her racing mind into slumber.
* * *
When Naya next opened her eyes, the room was bathed in twilight. Another bowl of broth stood on the table next to the bed. Her mouth watered. She wanted the nourishment but briefly wondered if it could be drugged. She felt better than she had since the fight in the alley. If they were slipping her chemicals, at least they were making her better.
As she sipped the broth, she looked around the room for the first time. The king-sized bed took up only a quarter of the space. A dresser, a vanity, and a pair of sky-blue plush armchairs occupied the rest. The minimal white walls and pine furniture screamed decor by IKEA.
She looked around for her clothes but didn’t see them or her bag. She needed her laptop. Nobody could break her secure login, but it was annoying to not have it near. Even more annoying that she couldn’t go look for it.
She flung the covers off her legs and lifted them straight up. Five leg lifts exhausted her. So much for superhuman strength. Maybe she’d lost that strength forever and would now have to live her life as an average human.
She shuddered. How would she keep her brother safe?
Surveying the room, she concentrated on each separate piece of furniture then closed her eyes. She had no problem piecing together a three-sixty image in her head. Her cognitive powers remained strong. She was too tired to try her reaction speed.
The door opened. Naya hastily covered her body with the comforter as a man entered.
Blondie, or Leif, as she had learned that night in the alley.
The last time she’d seen him, he’d been lying flat on his back.
Correction, the last time she’d seen him, he’d seared her lips with the hottest kiss she’d ever experienced and he’d been flat on his back.
A flush crept up her face, making her scalp tingle. She waited for him to speak.
He approached the bed in a loose-hipped saunter, showing off lean legs and broad shoulders. His skin glowed as if freshly showered and shaved, his hair pulled back and gathered at the nape of his neck. Ice-blue eyes pierced hers. She swallowed and ignored the unfamiliar heat flushing her body.
She liked a good-looking man as much as the next girl, but she’d never before reacted to anybody the way this blond hot-bod made her nerves tingle.
Damn, that kiss had scrambled her brain.
He stopped a few feet away. “Irja says you are feeling better.”
She watched him warily, trying not to stare at his lips. They were full and delicious. What would it be like for them to kiss while he was fully conscious? She quickly turned away to hide the deepening blush.
Leif pulled one of the blue chairs closer to the bed and sat down. “You look a little better, but still feverish.” He leaned forward, hand raised as if to touch her forehead.
She jerked away and then cocked an eyebrow, giving him the death stare she used to give Scott when they were very young and he wouldn’t do as told. It didn’t work on this man.
He chuckled, tracing a finger down the side of her cheek. “Why does your driver’s license say Daisy?”
Her nerve endings burned in the wake of his touch. She swatted his hand away. “Because it’s my name.”
He smiled. Dimples appeared.
If the wolverines had been female, he could have just flashed those and they would have swooned to the ground in no time.
“Irja tells me it’s Naya.”
“That’s my middle name,” she said after a long pause. The dimples distracted her, so did the killer smile.
His grin grew broader. “You’re a bad liar.”
Naya looked past him at the dresser opposite the foot of the bed. She was an excellent liar. She’d been doing nothing but lying for more than a year. “I want new clothes and my computer back. My bag too.”
He nodded. “I’ll have them brought to you.”
That was easy. A little too easy. “Why am I here?”
His forehead creased. “You jumped into my men’s car.”
Ah yes, the silver vehicle. Now she remembered the drivers. “Your men are not very good at following people.”
He chuckled. “Nobody ever accused Harald or Ulf of being subtle.” He leaned forward and put his hand on her forehead.
She flinched again, but his other hand cradled her cheek, immobilizing her head. The tenderness of the touch stunned her. Although the coolness of his hand soothed her skin, electricity crackled where he made contact. Did he feel it too? It was more than a little disturbing.
His fingers lingered, caressing her face lightly before he pulled his hands away. “Your fever is gone. I worried you’d be out for longer. It took me almost three days to purge the poison.”
So that was why the wolverine guys got the drop on him. They must have laced their claws with toxins, which explained why her wound didn’t heal. “What kind of poison did they use?” She looked away from his piercing eyes.
“An herbal extract that shuts down your circulatory system. It basically suffocates your organs. A dose as large as yours should be fatal to a human.” He put extra emphasis on the last word.
She fiddled with the comforter. When the silence lasted, she finally looked up and found him studying her. “What?”
“Why aren’t you dead, Naya?” Her name sounded too intimate on his lips. His eyes saw too much. Again, she truly regretted sharing her name with Irja, but insisting on her alias now would be counterproductive.
“How am I supposed to know?” she asked, offering a tight smile.
Leif remained silent.
“Why did those guys jump you?” Naya asked. What she really wanted to know was if he knew why they were hunting her and her brother.
“They are our enemies.”
If he found out she might have been created in the same lab as these creatures, would he consider her an enemy too? “And that’s why the wolverine monsters want you dead?” And why did the poison not kill you? She would save that last question for when she had a better idea of how safe, or unsafe, it might be to ask.
“You noticed they weren’t human.”
“I noticed their freaky long fingernails. Talons really.”
His dimples distracted her and she misse
d his cool touch.
She reminded herself of the blows he had delivered to the wolverines before succumbing to the poison. He was not a gentle guy. Quite the opposite, she could feel the checked strength emanating from his muscular body even in his lightest of touches.
And the way her body responded was distracting. Her hormones needed to quiet down.
He watched her for a second. “I’m sorry you were hurt, but grateful for your intervention. I owe you my life.”
That was unexpected. Heat blossomed on her cheeks. “What did you do to piss them off?”
“It’s a long and tiresome story. I will tell it to you another time. You should rest now.” Standing abruptly, he smoothed a hand over his glossy hair and down the short ponytail at the nape of his neck. “If you need me, ask for Leif. As long as you are my guest, I will provide you with anything you require.”
She felt more like a hostage than a guest but decided not to argue. “I still need clothes and my bag.” Naya watched his reaction.
“I will have them brought to you.” He flashed those dangerous dimples. “Harald said you broke a man’s nose at the bus stop. Why?”
An image of clocking the agent’s schnoz with her elbow flashed through her mind. She shrugged. “It’s a long and tiresome story.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll tell you my tale when you tell yours.” He moved his hand as if to touch her again, but changed his mind and dropped it to his side, clenching it into a fist.
She berated herself silently for wishing his fingers had made contact.
“Why did you take my phone?” he asked.
“I didn’t know I had it until I got back home. I was pretty out of it after the fight.”
He nodded slowly. “We found it in your bag.”
“Great, now you have it back.” Was the phone important?
“Rest well, Naya. You are safe here.” He walked out without looking back.
She tried hard not to notice how nicely he filled the seat of his jeans or remember what that ass felt like when she had searched for his phone.
Irja had also said this place was safe, but that’s how the handlers had described the lab compound. And that experience had shown her not to trust people who used that word.
She scrambled out of the bed. This time the destination was the door through which Leif had just exited. It felt like hours by the time she crossed the room. An eighty-year-old woman with a walker could have overtaken her.
Slowly, she twisted the handle and pulled on the door. It swung wide on well-oiled hinges. She poked her head out. A long hallway stretched to the left. Several shut doors lined it. Turning right revealed a large stained-glass window. Like the ones in churches, but instead of saints and lambs, the top half showed mighty Vikings sailing huge ships as sea serpents leaped out of the water. In the lower half, a giant wolf attacked a woman on a horse. The rider was about to pierce the wolf’s flank with her broadsword.
Naya considered exploring the closed doors but couldn’t find the strength. Also, padding around in a strange place in nothing but panties and a T-shirt was not the best idea. Instead, she shuffled back to bed and crawled under the covers, waiting for her belongings to be returned. She’d have a little nap until they arrived. As long as she wasn’t locked in the room, she could relax enough and rest until she regained her strength.
* * *
Leif’s berserker was trying to crawl through his skin. During his conversation with Naya, it had insisted on skin-to-skin contact and sent mental images of Leif and Naya naked, entwined, and sweaty.
Mine, the berserker whispered to him now. Go back. Mine.
Never had it spoken in words to him or sent images. Their communication lay in the emotional realm. Anger, rage, revenge were what he felt through the bond. Not attraction.
Irja had better figure out how to get rid of this poison side effect soon—he couldn’t think of it any other way right now—or he’d have a hard time controlling himself around Naya. Until he had more answers, he’d head for some physical sparring to control himself and his berserker. The repetitive exercises should distract him from the diminutive woman lying in his…in the bed in the guest room. Technically, it was also his bed, but not the one he and his berserker wanted her in.
Leif almost made it to the training center in the big barn behind the fortress before someone called his name. He groaned softly and turned to see Sten jogging up to him, his usual happy face tight and stressed. “Min kung.” The warrior bowed and kept his head low. “I can’t get ahold of Per. He’s not answering calls or texts.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with Per’s cell phone.” Leif touched the young Viking’s shoulder.
Sten briefly leaned into his grip. “Then he would have found some other way of contacting us. He’s been gone for six hours on a job that normally takes two, maybe three.” He averted his eyes.
Leif still caught the flash of despair. “You’re worried.” He studied his youngest warrior. Sten had died in battle and gone to Valhalla at the age of eighteen. The time he’d spent with the gods, and the hundred years passed in the mortal realm, added maturity to his demeanor and eyes. His body and face, though, were still those of a young man.
“Something feels wrong.” Lines of worry marred the normally smooth skin of his forehead.
Leif didn’t waste time on second-guessing. Sten and Per were battle brothers. As such, they’d developed a sixth sense about each other. They knew the other’s location in the midst of combat, just as Leif and Harald knew where the other positioned himself during a fight. “Grab Astrid and go see what’s keeping our brother.”
Sten’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes, my king.” The young Viking ran off at full speed.
If something had happened to Per, Harald needed to know. Leif went in search of the marshal.
The berserker paced impatiently. Fight.
Gritting his teeth, Leif ignored the silent command.
He found the red-bearded warrior in the kitchen, lifting a sandwich the size of his forearm.
“I’ve sent Sten and Astrid to find Per.”
Reluctantly, his friend halted the sandwich halfway to his face and closed his mouth.
Good thing, it would never have fit.
“He’s not back yet?” Harald asked, placing his food back on the plate.
Leif shook his head. “Sten can’t reach him on his cell and he hasn’t checked in.”
“I’ll ask Ulf to see if he can use the gadget that tracks the cars.” They’d installed GPS in all their vehicles.
“Sten has a bad feeling.”
“Fuck.” Harald rose. “I’ll go right away.” He looked longingly toward the pile of bread and meat, then shook his head and left.
Leif waited a few moments before getting out a knife and cutting a chunk off the sandwich. It was Torvald’s night to cook. Quite a few of the warriors went on “night patrol” to the Chinese restaurant when Torvald had dinner duty.
He cut another chunk and brought both of them with him.
* * *
Naya woke to find a pair of sweats and three brand-new pairs of pink lacy panties on one of the blue chairs. She frowned at their frilliness, but they would have to do.
Her bag lay on the floor next to her black motorcycle boots. She pulled on the clothes. Her familiar heavy leather footwear made her feel more like her usual badass self. She was ready to explore the fortress.
She found five other bedrooms similar to hers. At the end of the hallway, a staircase led down to the lower floor. The banisters shone with polish and a rich Turkish runner ran down the center of the steps. The staircase opened up into a massive foyer with gleaming hardwood floors and large oil paintings of lush landscapes and violent battle scenes on the walls.
Tall oak double doors at one end of the foyer were big enough to drive a pickup truck through. They swung open to a cobblestone courtyard that looked about half a basketball court in length. Beyond that, tall pine trees rose majestically.
She closed the doors and went in the opposite direction, discovering a restaurant-sized kitchen. Recessed lights reflected warmly off stainless steel appliances. A rectangular pine table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by ten chairs. On the table lay a massive pile of bread and meat. Someone had made a sub sandwich. Her stomach growled. A knife rested beside the plate.
She cut off a large piece and placed it on a napkin she found and sat down to eat. The meat tasted salty and tangy, like wild game. Not your average Hickory Farms. After she finished, she dug around in the cupboards to find a glass and filled it with water. She drank two glasses before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Naya hesitated in the doorway. That was one ass-kicking good sandwich. She stepped back to the table, cut another chunk of sandwich, and wrapped it in a napkin.
At the end of the hallway a door opened into a glass-covered walkway flanked by gardens. Brilliant flowers in primary colors grew everywhere and a fountain sprayed the air with water droplets. She opened the door at the other end and stepped into a big open space. Familiar smells of chemicals and metal hit her nostrils. A counter with microscopes and test tube centrifuges covered one wall. Large fume hoods competed for space with tall glass-door refrigerators.
Naya wanted to scream. A lab. A freaking lab.
Safe, they’d told her. No wonder Irja knew her biology was different. She had pulled Naya’s blood and studied it under one of these microscopes, probably had a pint stored in one of the refrigerators for future experiments.
Bile rose in Naya’s throat. The lab walls undulated. She sank to her knees, dropping the sandwich.
A door opened somewhere. Heels beat on the floor as someone ran toward her.
A woman called her name.
A man shouted in surprise.
Hands held her shoulders. She tried to get away, scratching and hitting desperately, but slipped. Her head hit the floor and everything went black.
Chapter 6
Leif had finally managed to get a workout. Still too weak to do any serious weapons or fight training, he’d opted for the treadmill, but lasted only forty-five minutes before his legs threatened to buckle. At least the berserker had calmed down. After the gym, he’d grabbed another piece of Harald’s sandwich, which was slightly smaller than before, and then headed to the office to catch up on emails. He needed to ask the other Viking tribes if they had information about a poison affecting berserkers and if they’d encountered creatures like the wolverines.
Viking Warrior Rising Page 6