Cybil is thrilled when she and her family inherit a million dollar ocean-side house in Winter Harbor, Maine. It’s a chance to finally bring her sisters back together and right old wrongs. But problems arise. Her gift of prophecy grows stronger. A Viking from the past haunts her. And that old ash tree in the front yard? It has taken on the otherworldly qualities of Yggdrasill, a tree that connects the nine worlds in Norse mythology. Soon caught in its power, she’s whisked back in time to tenth-century Scandinavia.
Of dragon blood and set to inherit the throne, Heidrek Sigdir tries to keep Cybil away, but the gods have other plans. A fate designed to make him pay for past grievances. Yet when he finally lays eyes on her, he wants nothing else. They share a connection unlike any other. Poignant desire. Incomparable need. Tempting change. Even so, he must let her go. She should be with his brother. Still, nothing is what it seems. A new enemy is determined to destroy all and Cybil is special to him and his people in ways nobody anticipated.
Many revelations come to light when Heidrek and Cybil are forced to journey across the rugged lands of Norway to reach the home of the seers at the peak of Mt. Galdhøpiggen. Hearts will be tested and lives forever changed. Will a new Viking King rise up and keep his people safe? Or will his endless draw to a modern day woman be his ultimate ruin?
Rise of a Viking
The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors’ Kin
Book One
By
Sky Purington
Dedication
For the first time ever, I’m dedicating a book to a character.
This one goes out to Heidrek Sigdir.
Over the years, I’ve watched you grow, change and become the man you are today. Wishing you all the best during the troubling times ahead. I know if anyone can weather this, it’s you. Be kind and courageous as you live and love well.
xo
COPYRIGHT © 2016
Rise of a Viking
Sky Purington
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of these books may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by Cathy McElhaney
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Previous Releases
About the Author
Chapter One
Winter Harbor, Maine
2016
“HERE WE GO.” Cybil pressed down the cigarette boat’s throttle and grinned. “Hold on, Sis!”
Samantha squealed as they took off and raced along the coastline. The sun sat low in the sky and bright oranges and reds splashed across the choppy water.
This was the life.
Endless trees, the Atlantic Ocean, and a beautiful new home.
They didn’t cruise long before Samantha tapped Cybil’s arm and pointed toward the shore. Sean was standing at the end of the dock with his arms crossed over his chest. She throttled down so she could hear her sister.
“He looks pissed off again.” Samantha’s eyes slid her way. “What’d you do now?”
Sean was the former owner of the shoreside million dollar Chalet style house she and her sisters recently purchased. With floor-to-ceiling windows, it was a sweeping sentinel surrounded by thick pine trees.
“Sean spent his life on these waters, Sam,” Cybil reminded. “He gets edgy when I stay out here after dark.”
“I can’t say I blame him. It’s dangerous.” Sam nodded toward shore, her eyes alight with admiration. “Why don’t we head in so he doesn’t have to worry anymore.”
Well aware of Samantha’s interest in Sean, she rolled her eyes. “Get over it. He’s dating someone.”
“You mean waiting for some phantom girl to show up.” Samantha had a naughty gleam in her eyes. “That means he’s fair game.” One brow arched. “Then again, I’m starting to wonder if you aren’t the girl he’s waiting for.”
“Nope.” Cybil shook her head. “We’re just friends.”
“I dunno.” Samantha smirked. “He worries about you an awful lot. Too much I think.”
Cybil knew exactly why he worried but couldn’t share the reason with Sam because it was part of a vision. One of many she’d had due to her gift of prophecy. A gift she kept hidden from her sisters. But how much longer would that last? Especially considering the ongoing visions were connected to their new house.
Though tempted to test her luck against the elements, Cybil decided against staying out on the water. The winds had shifted, and dark clouds were rolling in from the Northwest. By the time they docked and Sean tied off the boat, he wore a heavy frown and mumbled something about her pushing her limits.
“Always good to see you, Sean,” Samantha chirped, eying him up and down before she murmured to Cybil in passing, “I think he doth protest too much.”
Already barefoot, Cybil stripped down to her bathing suit and said, “Join me, Sean,” before she dove off the end of the dock.
Naturally he didn’t, but started to cover the boat, his scowl still in place. “One of these days you’re gonna underestimate this bay and get in trouble.”
“I’m more than familiar with Frenchman Bay and a great deal of the New England coast,” she reminded him as she floated on her back and enjoyed the ebb and flow of gentle waves. “So relax.”
“Because of what you learned in books,” he said. “This isn’t Lake Champlain, Cybil. It’s a different beast altogether.”
“Hence me learning about it not only through books but through you,” she pointed out. “I’ve been here for over six months and out on these waters for almost three.” She met his eyes. “I have a great deal of respect for the sea, Sean. I don’t take unnecessary chances.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s all you do.”
Maybe. But he didn’t need to know why. After all, being a prophet had its advantages. For the most part, she knew just how far she could push things. Which, when all was said and done, took the risk out of everything and was pretty damn boring.
What she wouldn’t do for a little adventure sight unseen. Yet she knew that was exactly what she had to avoid right now.
Especially here.
Her eyes went to the house, and she tightened her jaw as she remembered the lawyer who showed up at her home in upstate Vermont eight months ago. He had come to deliver paperwork that made her and her sisters the sole beneficiaries of Jaqueline’s inheritance. A woman she knew vaguely through her cousin Erin. And Jaqueline, who preferred to be called Jackie, was extremely wealthy.
Yet Cybil read between the lines.
She knew the Scottish lawyer was not from this century. But what genuinely caught her off guard was that both Jackie and even Erin were no longer part of this c
entury, either. Regrettably, she couldn’t sense anything else. Soon after—as she did foresee—Sean contacted her about buying the house. Concerned about Erin, she immediately took him up on his offer. What she discovered within a month of moving in had only added to her worries.
“You’re looking at the house in that funny way again,” Sean said softly.
“You know me,” she said as thunder rumbled across the sky. “I’m just lost in thought.”
“Yeah, I know.” Like always when he caught her staring at the house, he didn’t quite meet her eyes. He was hiding something.
“You’ve been lost in thought a lot lately,” he murmured.
“Why did you really contact me about buying this house, Sean?” She kept floating. “Please, just tell me the truth.”
“I did. I have.” His eyes finally found hers. “I don’t need a place this big and wanted to buy something closer to work. Now that I own a fleet of fishing boats, things are busy, and I need to be there more often.”
“Uh huh.” She started drifting toward shore. “And it just so happens that a Scottish realtor contacted you to let you know we were looking to buy.”
“Yup,” he said.
“Ironic wouldn’t you say?” She eyed him. “That you had a Scottish realtor, and I had a Scottish lawyer. Kinda hard to believe, if you ask me, considering how few Scotsmen there are around these parts.”
Sean shrugged, picked up her clothes and kept pace. She could admit he was handsome with his rugged looks and tall, wide-shouldered build. He had that whole square-jawed, dark stubble thing going on. It drove at least half her sisters crazy.
“One of these days you’ll be straight with me about what you know,” she said. “And I’ll appreciate it when you are.”
As usual, Sean wasn’t offended in the least but smoothly shifted the conversation. “Your latest batch of photos arrived while you were out.”
“Oh yeah?” She grinned as she waded out of the water. “How do they look?”
“I have no idea. I knew you’d want to see them first, so I didn’t open them. But I’m sure they’re great,” he said, his voice a little gruff as his eyes swept over her before he wrapped a towel around her shoulders. “You’ve got talent, sweetheart.”
“Naw.” They walked up the embankment. “Just good timing.”
She’d always loved photography and had a knack for capturing images that resembled mythological creatures. Mainly dragons.
“It must be some damn good timing.” He slanted her a look. “Because it’s made you famous.”
“I suppose.” Now it was her turn to redirect the conversation as she looked at the old, gnarly tree to the right of the shore. “Is it me or has that ash grown since I moved in?”
The wind picked up, thunder rumbled, and rain started spitting.
Sean shrugged again. “I can’t see how. It seems pretty old.”
When she headed that way, he shook his head. “Gonna be a bad storm. We should head inside.”
Cybil’s eyes went to the dark horizon. She was surprised when she sensed nothing about the weather’s outcome. That was unusual. And a little exciting.
Drawn as always, she approached the tree, caught by the sway of its leaves. Careful not to trip, she navigated around the thick, spindly roots crawling over the ground. Some even extended down the rock ledge into the water.
She stopped at the trunk and stared up through the branches, startled by a rush of exhilaration. Shadows danced overhead, twisting and flipping until flickers of light morphed into designs caught in the wind-driven leaves.
“Sean,” she murmured and held out her hand, her eyes never leaving the tree. “Give me your cell phone please.”
“Good thing it’s waterproof,” he muttered as he handed it over.
“I’d hope so,” she whispered. “You’re a fisherman.”
Cybil clicked into the camera, aimed the phone and started snapping pictures. Something was taking shape in the tree.
Something huge and magnificent.
Thunder echoed across the sky, and lightning flashed.
“Cybil darling. Sean,” Mema Angie called from the deck. “You two really should come inside!”
“When did Mema Angie get here?” Cybil said as she snapped away.
“She was here when I arrived.” Sean took her elbow. “C’mon, she’s right. It’s time to get inside.”
“Just a few more seconds.” The sky grew darker. Caught in quickly vanishing sunlight, the leaves stood vibrantly green against soupy clouds. “Just look at this.”
“I am. Let’s go. Now,” he said as it began to pour.
“All right.” Cybil handed the phone back and was about to follow him when the root at her feet caught her attention. “What the?” she whispered and crouched. “Look at this.”
Sean crouched and frowned at what had caught her attention.
“Is this what I think it is?” She ran her fingers over the intricately designed symbol carved in the wood. “Because it looks just like a depiction of Yggdrasill.”
The Yggdrasill was supposedly an immense ash tree that connected the Nine Worlds in Norse mythology. Something she knew about because she’d spent ample time studying Norse culture since she first arrived.
Since she had first seen the man standing beneath this tree in her visions and dreams.
“Give me your phone again,” she said. “Quick!”
Troubled, Sean gave her the phone. “You’ve got ten seconds.” Lightning zigzagged down into the ocean, and thunder roared. “Make that five.”
Cybil took several pictures before Sean grabbed her hand and bolted. By the time they made it inside, they were drenched and laughing.
“Stay right there and dry off before you track it across the floor,” Mema Angie scoffed, smiling as she handed them warm towels. “Crazy kids.”
“Not me.” Sean pointed at Cybil and shook his head. “Her.”
“He’s right.” Cybil grinned. “But I’m working on making him a little nutty too.”
Mema Angie chuckled and headed for the kitchen. A longtime friend of Sean’s and now Cybil and her sisters’, Mema Angie was an enigma. She had the personality of a cheerful matron and the looks of a well-kept fifty-something though she was somewhere close to seventy. With snowy blond hair, a lithe build, surprisingly smooth skin and bright green eyes, she still turned men’s heads.
“I’ve made lobster rolls for dinner,” Mema Angie said. “Go change then we’ll eat.”
Wearing a fitted tank top and short shorts, Samantha lay belly down on one of the large suede couches, flipping through a magazine. She tossed her heavy mass of long red curls over her shoulder and eyed Sean with a grin. “Why risk getting the floor all wet? I say you peel outta those clothes right there.”
“Don’t be lewd, dear,” Mema Angie called out.
“That’s not lewd, Mema.” Samantha winked at Sean. “Just practical.”
“Rumor has it Julie will be coming to Winter Harbor in a few weeks, Sean,” Mema Angie said. “I know you two have reconnected. You must be looking forward to seeing her.”
That was her way of reminding Samantha that there was another woman involved. An ongoing battle when it came to her sisters and Sean.
“I’m grabbing a shower.” Cybil headed upstairs. “Sean, leave your phone on the coffee table so I can check out the pictures when I’m done, ok?”
“Sure.” He plunked it down and strode after her. Of course, he had his own room here and would for as long as he wanted.
Fifteen minutes later, she wiped the steam off her bathroom mirror and ran a comb through her hair. She frowned at the magazine Samantha must have left on the vanity. Cybil’s face was splashed across the cover, and the caption read, “Cybil Does It Again!”
She supposed the picture was all right. She appeared creative and quirky as she propped her hip against a tree and angled her camera.
Though of several nationalities, her looks definitely made her Irish and Native American bl
oodlines obvious. Black with cedar highlights, her straight hair was shiny, and her skin tone warm. A light, almost transparent layer of freckles dusted her cheekbones. The studio had caught the sunlight just right so that her amber eyes sparkled more than usual and appeared almost fiery.
She pulled on cut off jean shorts, an oversized t-shirt, then slipped into a pair of comfortable flip-flops before heading downstairs. Jimmy Buffet floated through the house. Sam was helping Mema Angie make frozen margaritas as the two of them danced around the kitchen.
You had to love Friday nights around here.
Shortly after Cybil moved in they had declared it, “Let Loose Night.” Usually, that meant Sean got the evening off, Samantha popped in, and Mema Angie whipped up whatever cocktail she and Sam were in the mood for. On occasion one of their other sisters joined them. Well, at least two of them anyway.
Her eyes drifted to the far wall and lingered. She stared at the portrait of her sisters before turning her attention back to the proofs of her latest shoot.
Mema Angie understood that Cybil was picky about her photographs. She liked to lay them out and analyze them. So although she likely peaked first, she had left all four of them stacked and waiting. Rain fell in heavy sheets, and the storm raged as Cybil propped them side by side.
She crouched as she eyed them one by one.
Large and beautifully framed, each of them depicted a snapshot of nature. She called it her Dragons of Winter Harbor collection. These photographs had landed her in several magazines and continued to add to her wealth. She could care less about the money, though. No, her photography, these, were what life was all about.
“They’re amazing, Cybil,” Sean murmured, crouching beside her as he stared at them in awe. Barefoot, wearing jeans and a tank top, he was rocking the sexy look with his damp, slightly tousled hair.
“Thanks, but I still feel like there’s one missing,” she whispered as lightning flashed and illuminated them perfectly. Each one was of the clouds over the Atlantic and titled with a single word.
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