Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1)

by Sky Purington

  Trusting him, she rested her cheek against his hard chest and closed her eyes.

  Images flared and reality shifted. Or so it seemed.

  This time she wasn’t seeing leathery wings flap against the horizon but on either side of her as she flew over sharp mountains then a raging sea. Icy wind rushed by her face but didn’t seem to touch her warm, powerful body.

  “This is what it feels like to fly with me.”

  Megan kept her eyes closed. Unafraid, she somehow knew it was Naðr’s voice within her mind. Rich and deep with his essence, it burned a blazing path through her as thorough as the feel of the great beast she surely possessed. His massive wings flapped and they sailed over several longships speckling the open sea. Though in awe, she soon became aware of two more creatures flying on either side. Both immense, she could barely process what she looked at they were so magnificent.

  One was shades of pale gold with intense searing light blue eyes…

  Raknar.

  The other, multi-layered shades of mahogany and flecks of burnished gold with lethal obsidian eyes…

  Kol.

  For a split second it almost seemed she could see her own reflection in the sharp white clouds ahead. Slightly larger than the other two, jet black scales with blazing cobalt blue eyes…

  Naðr Véurr.

  Shocked, her eyes flew open.

  Everything fell away and she once more stood in the king’s arms.

  “Holy Christ,” she cried and tried to pull away.

  But Naðr kept his arm around her and his calm eyes level on her face. “So now you have the answer to your question.”

  Though completely stunned, she was surprised to realize that she wasn’t all that frightened. Shouldn’t she be? But being inside Naðr, flying in what he became, was more jolting than terrifying. While the creature he became contained a silent fury, it also seemed to have a deep-seated, unwavering strength of…character? There was no other way to describe its noble bearing other than that it was deeply engrained and part of a legacy that kept the creature kindred both to humanity and a higher power.

  “I am both human and dragon,” Naðr said. “Born to protect what few of us there are left.”

  “Naðr Véurr,” she whispered. “Serpent protector. Does that mean Meyla and Heidrek are also part dragon?”

  He shook his head, troubled, voice soft. “No. As the centuries pass, our dragon blood transfers to our descendants less and less. That’s why there are so few of us. Me and my brothers all being part dragon is truly rare.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “No wonder you sacrificed so much for Torra MacLomain.”

  “We would’ve done just about anything to help her,” Naðr said. “Or for our descendants without dragon blood.”

  She didn’t doubt it for a second. Anything for family.

  That aside, Megan realized there was no repulsion in her newfound knowledge about him being part dragon. But then he was all handsome human male right now and her mind was more wrapped up in that than anything else.

  Naðr tilted up her chin, his eyes softer than she’d ever seen them. “I showed you a glimpse of the dragon when we were on the ship. It was because of my dragon magic that you never heard my brothers leave. It was part of the reason you became so,” a small grin tugged at his lips, “lost within my touch.”

  Ah, well that certainly made sense. But she suspected she’d responded as much to the man as she did to the dragon within.

  “Now you know the truth yet you do not fear.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “It is a rare woman that isn’t afraid of the dragon.”

  “I’d imagine,” she murmured, startled to realize he was right. But she had no time to work toward why that was as his gaze took on a hungry edge. Deftly, with far too much talent, he untied the strings of her tunic with a few quick flicks of his fingers.

  Megan’s heartbeat kicked up a few thousand notches and breathing became impossible as he made quick work of removing the leather material altogether. Then, ensnared by her breasts struggling beneath the thin white tunic, he trailed a slow, purposeful finger down her upper chest.

  She might not have run in fear from the dragon, but Naðr Véurr like this, tall and gorgeous, with his near feral eyes and wicked intent, had her whole body trembling. Shaking with something close to fear but not quite, she could barely swallow.

  Unrecognizable emotions churned beneath the surface. She perched motionless as his finger hooked over the top of the thin material between her breasts. His eyes locked on hers and she knew he warred between how much she could handle versus how much he was about to take. Yet they both knew he’d end up tearing down any defenses she might have erected after Nathan.

  But Megan wasn’t the sort of woman to back down from a challenge either.

  So when he tore away the material and his ravenous, appreciative eyes lingered on her nudity, she stood proudly and redirected her attention to his too-ripped-for-his-own-good body. Licking her lips, she admired his broad shoulders as she lightly trailed her fingers down the thin layer of hair on his muscled chest. Then she continued down his six-pack abs until she hooked her finger over the top of his pants, mimicking what he’d done to her.

  His lips curled ever so slightly and humor mixed with desire as his slow and thorough appraisal of her shifted to one of increasing challenge. Rigid, eager, his thick erection leaped a little, pushing forward slightly beneath the tight strain of leather. In direct response, her nipples tightened almost painfully.

  God, there was a whole lot of man here, in more ways than one.

  Muscles strained as he kept his hands fisted by his side and allowed her all the power. She supposed this was his way of letting her know he could hold back both the man and the beast within.

  But she wondered for how long.

  Finger still hooked, she moved forward just enough that the base of her palm pressed against his arousal while she traced the curling tat that snaked down his rock-hard bicep. She’d never been overly drawn to men with ink but Naðr wore it so well that a fresh burst of moisture pooled between her thighs.

  His nostrils flared and a small, knowing grin slithered onto his face.

  Yet he waited and watched, a hard set to his jaw as his hooded eyes continued to make a slow walk over her exposed skin until he fixated on her throbbing lips. Suddenly drawn to the heavy sweep of his ebony lashes and the unrelenting slashes above, she ran her finger along his eyebrow then followed down over the strong cheekbone. All the while she rubbed her palm back and forth slowly over the steel length below. Eager to tempt, maybe even toy with him, she pressed her thumb between his lips while firmly grabbing below.

  Naðr thrust his hips forward a scant fraction as he pulled her thumb into his mouth. His tongue wrapped around her vulnerable digit once before his teeth clasped gently, reminding her exactly who was in control. His pupils flared half a heartbeat before he chuckled low in his chest.

  Then his large hands grabbed her backside and lifted her in such a way, she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist. With her thumb still held hostage in his hot mouth, Naðr hopped onto the bed and locked her into position against the wall just above the headboard. With one hand, he kept her braced inches above the long sweeping body of the dragon carved into the wood beneath.

  He held her that way for a long moment, red hot desire flaring within his unwavering regard. Sweet, drawn out anticipation made her heart hammer. Thump, thump, it pounded blood through her veins and had her gasping for breath.

  The small fire in the corner kept his face hidden in shadows as wind started to batter the roof. The crackling flames mixed with the sound of distant drums.

  Cupping his hand around the back of her head, he released her thumb and nibbled his way along her lower lip instead. A shudder rippled through her when he dug his hand into her hair and only allowed her close enough that her overly sensitized nipples brushed his hard chest. Yet even as she tried to squirm closer, he kept her at bay,
tongue licking the seam between her lips as if sampling a rare delicacy.

  This particular brand of torture was the dominance she’d felt not only in the Viking but in the dragon. Though it seemed far away, she knew the sound that fell from her lips was half growl. Digging her nails into his back, she grabbed his lips with hers and utilized every sensual weapon known to woman when she kissed him.

  And, if she didn’t know better, Megan got him.

  Though it seemed for a moment he’d take back control and continue his slow, sensual assault, he instead groaned, yanked her tightly against him and kissed the world right out from under her. Harsh, brutal, but oh-so-talented, his tongue and lips made quick work of twisting her entire soul into unparalleled oblivion.

  Kissing him with equal zeal, she clawed her nails down his back and ground her pelvis against him, so damn needy it hurt. Lips still working their magic against hers, he pulled back just enough to reach between them and yank hard, ripping her trousers down the center. Cool air slipped between her legs briefly before he ground his hot, leather-clad length between her thighs.

  Megan whimpered, tightened her arms over his shoulders and pulled up as she moved against him. Sweat slicked their skin and a raspy mewling sound broke from her chest as she ground and rolled her hips. When she gasped for air and her head fell back, he lowered her until she perched on the headboard while he nipped and sucked his way down her neck.

  Now he was moving against her. One hand kept her backside protected from the wood while the other fed her breast to his starved mouth. Though aching to fill the emptiness between her legs, a whole new flood of fire raced through her veins when his teeth clamped over her pebbled nipple. Crying out, Megan was stunned when her body locked up in an arch and an orgasm ripped through her.

  And this was no average climax.

  On and on, it curled her toes and made her lips quiver as blood pounded in heavy throbs from her core through every limb. Even her fingernails tingled so strong were the waves of release.

  Ruthlessly taking advantage of her untendered vulnerability, he held her in place. Then he thrust harshly against her while suckling deep before cinching his teeth just hard enough. She understood in that pleasure-defining moment that teasing then thinking to control her Viking king would only ever be rewarded with an unthinkable, walk-the-edge dangerous blend of both pain and pleasure.

  Another sharp release tore up her spine then zig-zagged everywhere. Sharp, non-stop flutters fanned out from the epicenter between her thighs. Completely at his mercy, her muscles shook and quaked. Hand again wrapped in her hair, he held her just close enough that he could view the vulnerability of release reflected in her eyes. Fascinated, pleased, he watched her so avidly that she felt exposed.

  Yet somehow there was an unexpected level of intimacy fluctuating between them she’d never felt with another. It stretched and elongated the endless aftershocks thrumming through her. So when he pulled her off the headboard and braced back on his heels, she could barely focus never mind keep her arms over his shoulders.

  Though her legs still straddled him, Naðr tucked her head against him, cheek against his chest. As her muscles jerked and fluttered uncontrollably, he stroked her hair gingerly. But Megan had to wonder through her thin grip on reality, was this just more teasing? Because there could be no ignoring the heavy throb of blood pounding within the thick erection pressed between her legs.

  The king was far from finished with her.

  But again he proved he was no brute as he rested his chin on the top of her head and continued stroking her hair. Only after her body finally went slack did he grasp the back of her neck and pull away until his lust-ridden gaze once more connected with hers. Their eyes held for several long moments before his lips whispered over hers far more tenderly than she expected.

  Even as Megan thought he would kiss her, he didn’t. Instead, he cupped her cheek and ran the rough pad of his thumb casually back and forth over her lower lip. All the while, he held her backside firmly while rocking his hips just enough that the sensual release moments before slowly but surely rekindled. Not only the gentle motion of his body but the way his eyes never for a second left hers made clear his intentions.

  His lips again curled up slightly and he moved her forward. Megan felt like melting wax in his arms as he swung her so that she kneeled on the bed. He yanked away the remnants of her pants and paused. Even without the strength to look back at him, she sensed his blatant admiration.

  “Hel woman, you are beautiful,” he whispered. Then, curling over her prone, bare body he braced her hands over the headboard and pushed her knees together. Brushing aside her hair, he pressed his warm lips against the vulnerable area at the base of her neck. When she arched her chest forward, he gripped her hips firmly and trailed his tongue down her spine.

  Jaw quivering, she pressed her forehead against the headboard and pushed up with her backside, wanting, no needing, far more. Then, as if determined to drive her lusty anguish through the roof, he nipped at her backside while wrapping his hand down between her thighs. When she yelped, he growled. One hand clamped over hers on the headboard while the other wrapped into her hair tightly.

  A warning.

  One that had saliva pooling on her tongue.

  Then he pulled away for a brief moment and she heard swooshing. The next thing she knew his body again curled over hers.

  This time the leather was gone and skin met skin.

  Megan whimpered in what sounded precariously like relief as his rampant arousal rested against her backside. And though his hand moved back and only rested suggestively on her hip, fast fire unraveled through her blood and her skin burned with heat.

  Even so, something deep inside alerted her to how far she’d really come and that she wasn’t on birth control and that unprotected sex wasn’t safe regardless. But it seemed he followed her every thought because his murmured words came close and soft against her ear. “I am part dragon. There is no sickness in me nor will anything come of this union you do not want.”

  Well, what the heck did he mean by that?

  But it didn’t much matter when he turned her lips to his and wrapped his tongue into her mouth. Just like that, she was once more possessed. Tucking back against him, she again arched as his hand swept over her stomach and firmly cupped her breast. Lips never leaving hers, he kneed her legs apart and once more closed a hand over hers, his fingers caressing the back of hers whisper soft.

  Then he hovered, almost as if he cherished the moments he kept her in exquisite agony, wondering if he’d give her what she so needed. Waiting, waiting, waiting even as his tongue wrapped with hers, carving out her mouth as though he meant to own it.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Her poor heart slammed frantically.

  Slow, so slow she clenched her teeth and groaned, he ever-so-slightly dragged his hand along her belly until he brushed his finger over her clit. She inhaled sharply as he worked his fingers so deftly that flesh swelled as quickly as blind need.

  Then, suddenly, he drove into her.

  Megan cried out, vision dimming as his nimble, talented fingers kept at her center and he thrust inside her completely. So long, thick and filling, her throat clogged with emotion.

  Unable to process the sensations rolling over her body in heavy waves, she pressed her cheek to the headboard and dug her nails into the wood. While some men might have slowed and let her ease into the intrusion of his body, Naðr wasn’t one of them. Keeping one hand between her legs, his other again clamped hard over one of her hands as he thrust. Every less-than-gentle push of his hips wrestled a new sound of pleasure from her lips.

  When his mouth came close to her ear and murmured several tempting, dirty words she thrust back against him. This, it seemed, was just what he was looking for because he yanked her back and pulled free. With a quick thrust, he flipped her onto her back. The next thing she knew, he scooped his arms beneath her knees, and once more filled her.

  Megan didn’t recognize the look in his
eyes any more than the long, low steady moan breaking from her chest as his sweat-coated muscular body raped her of coherency.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  Over and over.

  Though fast and furious, his movements now were languid compared to what came next. Sharp, near-violent, he thrust so hard they dragged fur across the bed beneath the weight of his tireless pursuit. Megan tried to grip him, the bed, anything, but his movements were so intense, the weight of his body on hers so thorough, that nothing was going to save her…from him.

  She wasn’t sure her body could handle another intense climax, but it didn’t much matter when she made the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes. Those surreal, otherworldly eyes of his. Except now they didn’t look at her with blatant need but something she couldn’t put words to. As though she’d been looking into their perfectness her whole damn life and was only just remembering.

  They not only made a meal out of her physically but emotionally. Swamped by unanticipated emotion, she tried to press her lips together but they only fell apart, quivering with unchecked desire. Again taking advantage of her vulnerability, he hooded his gaze and brought his lips closer while grinding and thrusting even deeper.

  Ripped from the oblivion she’d nearly drowned in when with his gaze, he forced her down another path entirely. One made of his hot breath against hers and the unyielding strength of his body as it slid over hers, faster and faster. Enthralled, lost, she dug her nails into his forearms and tried to ground herself even as everything fell away.

  Almost as if he was angered though she somehow knew he wasn’t, he pushed his arms higher, pulling her legs further up, and locked his lips against the side of her neck. Tears leaked from her eyes as he rolled and ground his hips. The room tilted and swayed as powerful sensations battered and whiplashed against her. Lost, drowned, done, her stomach clenched so painfully that she arched into a rainbow, thrust back her head and screamed.