Time slipped away.
Contentment filled her.
Until it did not.
Megan suddenly stood on her deck at home. The raven perched nearby and watched her.
“What?” She shook her head as a sense of foreboding filled her. Black clouds rolled across a blue sky and time seemed to speed up. Within moments, Frenchman Bay was swamped in hurricane-like weather. A Nor’easter. Rain fell in heavy sheets and gale-force winds gusted.
The raven stared at her for another long moment before launching into the air.
Dread filled her as she watched it fly toward where she’d gone diving. Megan blinked and shielded her eyes from the rain, stunned when what she viewed was so much like the picture Amber had drawn. Minus the raging weather.
Naðr’s longship, the one she’d found beneath the sea, was turning toward shore, toward her.
Except this time, it listed wildly and several oars broke free. Why was the sail still up? It should be down! Huge waves crested over the side. It should be steering into the waves, but even she could see heavy swells came from too many directions. And the ship was far too close to shore.
Yet she sensed Naðr’s need to get to her. His desperation. Then, to her horror, a mammoth wave combined with a severe wind gust and the ship teetered dangerously…then rolled. Her heart fell into her stomach and though she screamed, the sound was drowned out by a crash of thunder.
Then, as quickly as the ship slipped beneath the sea, her surroundings faded away.
“Megan, wake up, woman.”
Confused, gasping, she blinked and stared into Naðr’s concerned eyes. Once more in their tent, he crouched in front of her and held her upper arms firmly. She must have been having a nightmare. But it had seemed so real. Though shaking and still frightened, she was never so glad to see him. Alive.
Naðr waited and watched her closely before he whispered, “The raven came to you.”
A chill ran through her and she nodded vaguely. Naðr pulled her onto his lap then wrapped a fur around her. He pressed her cheek to his chest and held her that way, warming her, for several long minutes. When at last her heartbeat settled, she pulled back and frowned. “How did you know the raven came?”
Steady eyes held hers for a few moments before he said, “The raven is a Valkyrie. It was she who often visited Aesa and it was she who chose her to go to Valhalla. I always sense when she is near.”
Megan swallowed hard. So odd to have it confirmed that not only was her raven a Valkyrie but connected with Naðr’s deceased wife. “Why does it sound as if you actually believe the raven was near and not just part of my nightmare?”
“Because it was.” His eyes remained on her, unflinching. “While it might have felt like a dream, what just happened to you was more like a glimpse at a possible reality. When the raven took your mind there, my dragon was able to follow your thoughts and see what you saw.”
“Impossible,” she whispered then sighed. If she’d learned nothing else since this all began it was that anything was possible. Heck, dragons existed. And…she’d slept with one…several times. That pretty much cleared a path for a whole new reality. She pinched the bridge of her nose and frowned. “I really don’t want to imagine any of what I just witnessed happening.”
Naðr stroked her hair gently. “A god showed us this for a reason and we will pay attention to the message.” Then he pointed out the obvious. “I have spent the majority of my life on the sea. I know what I’m doing. My sail would have been down in such weather and I would have handled the ship much differently.”
“Even if…”
When her words trailed off, he tilted up her chin and met her eyes. “Even if?”
Though a little embarrassed it seemed like the logical thing to ask. “Even if you desperately needed to get to the shore?”
The intense flare of his eyes, the absolute strength of what he’d be capable of when it came to her, crashed into Megan’s senses.
“If you were in danger, I would shift into the dragon before I’d attempt to bring a ship into port in that kind of weather. And if I couldn’t shift into the dragon, I’d swim.”
Warmth burned through her at his impassioned words. Still. “Did you see those waters? You have no idea what Maine’s coast can be like during a storm.”
“I swim better than I sail. And no one can captain better than me.” He cupped the side of her neck. “I will always be there if you’re in danger.”
Megan decided not to point out the obvious. That he would be here and she would be there. And she thought he wasn’t supposed to shift. “Why was not shifting into the dragon part of your agreement with the seers?”
“We were given no precise answer other than that the power of the dragons could disrupt whatever magic is at work now.”
“Now?”
“The magic of the gods and even the seers. The same magic that brought you back in time, that which will see through the bargain struck to help our descendant, Torra MacLomain.”
“You and your brothers sacrificed an awful lot.”
“As I said before, there is nothing we would not do to help kin.”
“I know,” she whispered. Needing to touch him, offer comfort, she brushed the back of her hand down his cheek. “It must take a great deal of strength not to embrace what you are. I can’t imagine.”
“It will not be forever,” he murmured. “The day will come when we have fulfilled our promise.”
Megan contemplated that and couldn’t help but wonder exactly what that meant for her and her sisters.
Their conversation was cut short when Kol stuck his head in and grinned. “I can’t remember the last time the king slept longer than the rest of us.”
Naðr perked a brow. “Do I look like I’m sleeping?”
Kol’s eyes swept over them, his grin turning into a full blown smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “No, but then you’re not doing what I’d be doing if I had her on my lap.”
This earned Kol a scowl from his brother. “We leave soon. Make sure the men are ready.”
Kol nodded. He was about to pull his head out but paused and kept on grinning at her, dimples erupting. “You’re a fine sight this morn, Megan.”
Shameless flirt. Megan rolled her eyes and waved him away.
“I think my brother is half in love with you.” Naðr pulled her to her feet and a grin much like Kol’s crawled onto his face. “He has good taste in women.”
Not one to dwell on flattery, she blew an errant lock of frazzled hair out of her face and shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure I look like a million bucks.”
With a raffish gleam in his eyes, Naðr let the fur drop and enclosed her in his arms, mumbling, “You are so very beautiful,” before his lips closed over hers in a hot, rough, ravenous kiss. The sweet sting left between her thighs from the night before raged into a throbbing demand. Megan clasped his tight backside, groaning with desire at the feel of the muscled curvature.
Naðr tore his lips away and groused, “Don’t even think about it, Kol.”
Megan rounded her eyes when she realized his brother was moments away from sticking his head in again.
Kol chuckled. “I’ll keep my dragon at bay for you, brother but don’t ask me not to think about what I’d see if I stuck my head in now.”
Megan snorted and though it was about the last thing she wanted to do, she pulled away. “I’d say it’s time to get dressed.”
Naðr seemed less than impressed with the idea as he reluctantly yanked on his pants, muttering, “I look forward to getting you back to the holding and into my bed.”
In complete agreement, she pulled on a pair of trousers, a tunic and boots he handed her, all the while frustratingly aroused. It seemed her body couldn’t get enough of what he had to offer. When she stepped out of the tent, Kol was waiting with a shit-eating grin on his face. He held out a piece of meat. “Hungry?”
When her stomach rumbled, he chuckled. “Thought so. Busy night.”
“Thanks,” she murmured and took the food. Megan could only hope the wind howled louder than she had. But based on the amused glances Kjar and Raknar shot her when she joined them, she guessed she’d been noisier than a banshee. Even so, she was hard pressed to feel embarrassed. Their society was so completely different than hers, far more open and not so much in a depraved way. If anything, they seemed to take pride in her for a night well spent. And the truth was it had been one amazingly awesome night despite the nightmare.
Kjar handed her a skin. “I got you some mountain water.”
Something had shifted with Naðr’s cousin. While she sensed he liked her since they met, there was a new fondness in his eyes.
Megan smiled. “Thank you.”
Nothing ever tasted as good as the icy water as it slid down her throat. She’d bet just about anything that she was running dehydrated from her overnight activities.
Even Raknar seemed a little less intense this morning as he pulled on her hood. “The winds are strong today.”
They certainly were. Though it had stopped snowing, heavy gusts swung the pines back and forth overhead and twisted snow into heavy bouts of near white-out conditions. She nodded thanks and cinched the strings.
In record time, Naðr had the tent skins down and joined them. Megan handed him the water and pulled her eyes from the sight of him drinking it. So sexy. And too handsome for his own good. When he handed the skin back, that unmistakable twinkle had returned to his eyes. He knew he got her going in a really good way.
“The remainder of the journey down is not as steep but can be just as dangerous because of the weather,” he informed and leaned close. “So let me help you today.”
“I thought I did yesterday.” But she knew she hadn’t. Depending on men for anything wasn’t her strong point. “At least most of the time.”
Naðr twisted his lip and put his hand to the small of her back. “Let’s go.”
Half the men led the way, the other half fell in behind, cushioning their king in between. Naðr hadn’t been kidding about the perilous conditions. She’d guessed the gusts were upwards of thirty to forty miles-per-hour and the snow damn near blinding.
But she wasn’t a hearty New Englander for no good reason.
Head down, skin as protected as she could manage, she followed Naðr’s every instruction without complaint and paid attention to everything around her. With a strong respect for Mother Nature, Megan knew how dangerous weather like this could be.
Hours passed before the temperature started to rise and the winds lessened. It was then, as the billowing snow fell away and the sharp, blue sky unraveled, that she was truly able to appreciate the stark, mouth-dropping beauty around her. Majestic, proud mountains curved down, silent sentinels over an endless swath of sparkling ocean. She still wondered which modern day Scandinavian country this was. Norway hopefully. With her own ancestry having roots here, it suddenly seemed…inevitable that she’d return.
Though he’d asked her several times during the descent, it appeared Naðr liked consistency when his eyes met hers. “How do you fare?”
“Good,” she reassured and nodded at the view. “Your home is truly beautiful.”
“Yes,” he agreed, pride in his eyes as they swept over the mountains and down into the valley. “I have a deep love for her.”
Caught not by the untouchable landscape but by the heartfelt expression on his face, she was blown away not only by the romanticism simmering beneath the surface but by how well-suited he was to this land. As though they were made for one another. Tall, strong, impregnable, impossibly striking.
Then his eyes met hers and her breath caught. Though she knew full well he’d been talking about the land, something in his rich, unwavering gaze bespoke a deeper meaning. That the words were said not only for his homeland but…for her, about her. Unexpectedly nervous, she tore her eyes from his and focused once more on the ocean.
They hadn’t known one another nearly long enough to be thinking about love. Megan shook her head. She’d given her heart away once and swore she never would again. Nope, she’d buried the remnants of that smeared fairytale on top of this mountain.
“We must continue,” he said softly and pulled her after him.
Yet the way he’d said ‘continue’ made it sound as if they were heading down an unavoidable path that didn’t include just incredible chemistry in bed but much more. And if she didn’t know better, she’d say he was looking forward to the journey.
By the time they made it back to the holding, the sun sat low in the sky, a warm welcoming orb that cast long, glittering spikes of whitewashed light over the peaceful sea. Megan laughed and crouched when Guardian limped rather joyfully into her waiting arms.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, sweet girl,” she murmured into her fur.
“S-she’s just f-fine,” Heidrek said moments before Raknar hoisted him onto his hip, grinning as he ruffled his son’s hair with affection.
“Thank you for taking such good care of her, Heidrek,” Megan said.
The boy smiled and nodded, immensely pleased.
The village was excited, happy faces abound as they welcomed back their kin. Kol wasted no time sweeping some random woman into his arms and kissing her soundly. Kjar waved to all and headed toward the docks, likely to check on the boats. Meyla flung her arms around Naðr and kissed him on the cheek. Megan grinned, glad to see father and daughter getting along so well.
Which brought her eyes to Valan. The corner of his lips hitched up and he nodded. “Good to see you back safe, lass. I would have come had I known.”
She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Sounds like you’ll get your chance to fight soon enough.”
“Aye?”
“Yep, lots going on apparently.”
Before she could share more, Naðr was by her side, whispering in her ear. “Go with Meyla. Get ready. Tonight will be a celebration made of readying for war with a little something else to keep spirits high.”
When she looked at him in question, he only grinned. Then, before she knew it, he strode away, throwing over his shoulder. “Valan Hamilton, come with me. I wish to speak with you.”
Valan looked as surprised as her when he nodded and wasted no time following.
Meyla wrapped elbows with Megan, smiling. “Good to have you back.” Then she peered down at Guardian. “Come on then. Time to go get ready.”
Her dog followed as they made their way into Meyla’s building. Basins of hot water were already steaming in invitation and it wasn’t long before they were both submerged. Eyes closed, head thrown back, Megan relished the water as it soothed sore muscles. It was no small thing climbing a mountain and coming back down within two days.
“You make my father very happy,” Meyla murmured.
Her eyes met Meyla’s. How to answer? Honestly, she supposed. Well, at least as honest as she was willing to get right now. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Naðr’s daughter contemplated her for several long moments. “But you intend to try to go home.”
Meyla was the closest thing to a female friend she had here yet she found her blatant statement unsettling. Probably because going home was something she was in no mood to talk about. “Yes. I need to try to get home. My sisters will be worried. And Sean.”
“Who’s Sean?”
“My best friend.”
“Ah. Valan is my closest friend now.” Meyla continued to study her in that offsetting way. A trait, Megan realized, that she’d inherited from Naðr. “I know you’re already lovers but assuming you stay on longer than intended, do you think it likely you could ever consider my father a friend?”
It was an astute question and one that deserved a ready answer. But what was that exactly? Megan enjoyed Naðr’s company…immensely actually. Yet would they make good companions? Could they become friends?
“Yes,” she said. Why, she wasn’t sure but knew it was entirely possible. Perhaps because of their love for boats and the sea or maybe because
of their shared sense of dry humor. Whatever it was, she was drawn to what she sensed could develop between them beyond lust. There was a definite desire to know and understand him better, to learn about all he’d done in life to get where he was now.
Meyla gave a soft smile. “Well just look at what’s hidden in your eyes. Friendship is inevitable. After all, you’re already in love.”
“In love?” Megan responded, a smidge too breathlessly for her taste. “Heck no. Sorry. I haven’t known him nearly long enough.”
And again Meyla sounded like her father. “Time means nothing. A day, a year, it varies for everyone how fast it happens but when it does.” She gave Megan a knowing smile. “It’s unstoppable.”
Desperate to change the subject, Megan said, “Speaking of love, Naðr appears to have softened a bit toward Valan. Not to mention you and your father seem to be getting on well. I’m glad to see it.”
“Yes, all is going much better and I’m fairly certain Valan and I have you to thank for that.”
“Me? How so?”
“Besides cheering him up in general?” Meyla chuckled. “You offered us good advice and we took it. Though we didn’t do it to upset father, we’d flaunted our desire for one another at every opportunity. Call it defiance I guess. On my part anyways. Valan isn’t to blame. He couldn’t help responding to my advances.” She winked. “I’m very good at it.”
No doubt she was.
Megan eyed her for a long moment and though she knew better, she wanted to better understand the complicated weave that had led her here. Because no matter what Naðr said, she knew Meyla and his involvement with the MacLomain clan not only involved her but may soon draw her sisters into this time-travel fold. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable but I’d like…no, I need to better understand what happened between you and the Scotsman named Adlin MacLomain.”
“Adlin,” Meyla said softly. Though there was nostalgia in her eyes, there was also a great deal of fondness and strength when she said his name. “I loved Adlin. Not as I do Valan but certainly a type of love that I will never forget.” Wisdom lit her eyes. “But that’s not really what you want to know, is it? You want to know more about the child I left behind.”
Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) Page 20