At the Viking's Command (Warriors Unleashed Book 2)

by Marsh, Anne

  “Selfie!” She laughed like her presence on a heavily guarded island was simply not a matter for concern.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t trust me.” She mock-pouted and he was pretty damn certain she’d be more at home hitting things. Hitting him despite her delicious submission.

  ~~~

  “Tell me again what you need.” The deep rumble of Calder’s voice was reassuringly familiar. Some things hadn’t changed in the last twelve months. Calder still made every word count and getting him to make conversation was like pulling teeth.

  “A fighter.” Simple. Succinct. True.

  He ran a hand down her arm. The simple touch shouldn’t have turned her on so much. People touched other people’s arms all the time. If she moved two inches left or right, his fingers would fall away. Of course she didn’t move.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Four words. I thought they were pretty simple,” she mocked.

  “No. What do you need?”

  She had no idea, because she hadn’t found it in the last twelve months.

  He kicked the snowmobile into gear, slowly guiding the machine out of the garage bay and into the keep’s inner courtyard. Adrenaline shot through her. She’d channeled her inner Viking and maybe things would be okay. She’d come, she’d seen, she’d…conquered? Still, making her exit now from the keep seemed prudent. Even if the Vikings were okay with a werewolf on the premises, the Valkyrie from whom she’d purloined her new wardrobe was going to have issues. Better not to be hanging around when the other female discovered her loss. Plus, eventually the sun would set and she’d shift back. Calder knew what she was, she reminded herself. When she went furry on him, he wouldn’t be surprised.

  But he also wouldn’t be pleased.

  She now knew exactly how the Vikings—and the rest of the paranormal world—felt about the werewolves. Her kind was persona non grata. Why he hadn’t killed her when he’d had the chance was a mystery. Leif had certainly been surprised.

  Calder drove like a demon, hard and fast. Like he couldn’t stand being trapped inside four walls any more than she could. The sky overhead was blue and clear, the sunlight glinting off the snow. She snuck a peak at him in the mirror. He had his sunglasses and his game face on. He looked grim and determined, but he was also enjoying himself. She was suddenly sure of that much. After being cooped up in the keep, he’d want the rush of fresh air and the freedom of going like hell over the snow in any direction he chose.

  It was impossible not to worry about what might be happening to her Pack. Leif was a crazy son-of-a-bitch. Worse, he was vindictive. He’d decided that he was going to be the werewolf who took down Odin, and he was just crazy enough to not worry about what that meant for their Pack. Like it or not, Pack was family now and she valued the connection. Sure, some of the members were the kind you didn’t want to meet up with at Thanksgiving dinner—Ake and Leif came to mind—but there were others. Wolves like Even and the Pack’s few female wolves who’d welcomed her and tried to ease her transition.

  It wasn’t the life she’d have picked, but there was no bitching against Fate. From the minute she’d been bitten, her life had done a 180. And there had been good moments to go with the bad. She’d spent more than one sunset curled up by the fire with the girl wolves, welcoming the night and the shift with marshmallows, laughter, and gossip.

  Since she couldn’t fix the Pack at the moment, she snuggled back against Calder. He was gloriously warm, making riding with him like having her own portable heater. And he gave good presents. Her beautiful new clothes were a guilty pleasure she had every intention of enjoying.

  He was a well-trained killer. He hadn’t survived night after night in the pits without cutting down his opponents ruthlessly. And yet he’d been nice to her. So if he wanted her to be afraid of him, he’d have to try harder.

  The cabin seemed to rise up out of nowhere. Perched on the rocky shore of an ice-studded fjord, the wood-sided chalet had a steep roof to shed the snow. White latticed windows looked out over the water. Tyra could easily imagine sitting on the front porch and watching the world go by.

  Pulling up in front of the cabin, he killed the motor and let the snowmobile coast to a slow halt. When she tried to hop off, however, he slid an arm around her waist, pinning her in place.

  “Okay,” he growled.

  God. What was it with Calder and gruff, one word answers? She fought back an urge to elbow him. Pissing off her ride was a bad idea. It was a long walk back to the Vikings’ keep and even further to her own snowmobile. But…okay, they were here? Okay, what?

  Clearly satisfied with their non-conversation, however, he swung off the snowmobile, answering that part of her question. He must have meant okay we’re here because he just stood there waiting for her. Calder was good at that. He waited with the patience of a predator stalking his prey. She’d seen him fight the day the Vikings had busted out of the pit’s holding cells. He’d had that same watchful gaze before he’d exploded into lethal motion.

  “It’s okay to use more than word at a time.” She pushed off the snowmobile and crunched over the snow toward the cabin. Tilting her head back, she studied the building. It didn’t scream evil dungeon or dump the werewolf’s body here. It also didn’t seem like a love nest or decadent pied-à-terre. In fact, it looked very much like the kind of place she would have chosen for herself. It was the kind of place you went to be alone and catch your breath, but with a side of comfort. If—when—she got her Pack back, that was one change she planned on making. No more roughing it in dirty campsites.

  She looked back at Calder. He hadn’t moved. “Yours?”

  “Yes.” Again with the one word answers. She had a feeling, though, that he wasn’t talking about just the hunting cabin. She’d have to do something about that note of possession in his voice. She was a loaner, not a keeper. Playing erotic games with Calder was no hardship, but she was no submissive. Calder, on the other hand, was the kind of man who would insist on being in charge.

  “Remind me again,” he rumbled. “Why are you here?”

  “I need to hire a fighter.” She’d told him that.

  “You said you would pay any price.”

  “No. I said I would pay your price.” There was definitely a difference.

  He nodded. “Just to be perfectly clear, you’re offering to have sex with me in exchange for my fighting skills.”

  “Yes.” See? She could do one-word answers too.

  He shook his head. “I don’t buy sex. If you’re in my bed, it’s because you want to be.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.” The story of Vikar and Pure was almost legendary. She’d wanted a favor from the Viking leader and he’d made a deal that included seven nights of sex—with both him and his second-in-command Var. From everything she’d heard, Pure had enjoyed that deal.

  “I’m not my brothers.”

  No. He was—more.

  “What do you want then? Cash?” Which would be a problem because she literally didn’t have a dime to her name. It wasn’t like she’d been able to hold down a job since being bitten. Still, his lack of sexual interest stung even if it was par for the course. She wasn’t winning the sexy times sweepstakes in the Pack either.

  He ran a hand over his head before walking past her toward the cabin. She followed happily. Big booted feet crunching over the snow were sexy as hell. She’d always loved a man in shitkickers.

  “You’ll do, but I want you on my terms.”

  Maybe men went out of their way to be confusing? “Again, more words here would be a good thing.”

  He pushed open the cabin door. The place wasn’t locked, but who the hell would be out here anyway? Then he stopped and looked at her, arms folded over his chest. And while she picked up on heat and power, there was another emotion else reflected in his gaze that she didn’t recognize. Not affection, but something that had that potential.

  “We’re going to have sex. We’re
both going to enjoy it.”

  “Confident, much?” she muttered, but he kept right on talking.

  “You’ll give me everything in bed. I’m not an easy lover. I’ll push you.”

  Heat swept through her. God, he was gorgeous. And trouble. He was trouble in spades. She hadn’t thought through her sex-in-exchange-for-strong-arm-assistance plan and she wasn’t sure what she’d imagined. Maybe a little wham bam, thank you ma’am. Or something kinkier. Calder clearly intended to play by a different set of rules.

  Her girly bits tightened with arousal. So maybe she’d hoped her Viking could do for her what the Pack’s werewolves hadn’t. If sex with the wolves usually wasn’t bad, she also hadn’t seen fireworks either. Rough and fast could be fun, but she wanted more. Part of her also secretly yearned to submit. To let him take charge.

  “Maybe you should consider a blow-up doll,” she suggested. “Easier to order around.”

  He stepped inside. “In. Or out.”

  She wanted to say yes and that need scared her. Still, she needed to draw the line.

  “One thing is non-negotiable. I don’t do submission.”

  ~~~

  “You can.” She would. If Tyra wanted him to do her job, she’d pay his price. It was that simple. Still, in the interest of compromise, he held out a hand to her. She could take it. Or not.

  “This is crazy.”

  Yeah. He knew that. She was a werewolf on a suicide mission. He was a Viking berserker. And yet he didn’t seem to have any willpower around her. Imagine that.

  “You can,” he repeated.

  She shrugged, but she let him tug her into the cabin. “I haven’t to date. Just so we’re clear.”

  His cabin was his own space, private from his brothers and the sometimes-chaos at the keep. He’d built the place by hand a century ago and decorated it with wood carvings over the next few decades. In addition to a big stone fireplace, he’d filled the rooms with oversized furniture designed to be comfortable. Right now, however, he only had one destination in mind. Bed.

  He led her to the bedroom and nudged the door open with his hip. She didn’t jerk away, although her breathing came faster and harder. “You don’t waste any time do you?”

  He never had. He knew what he wanted and he went after it. Tyra.

  She was still wearing the parka and at least two other layers—which was far too many clothes for his taste. “Strip.”

  “You know, there’s this thing called foreplay.” She flashed a mock-serious face at him as she ditched the parka. He loved her laughter. His brothers made jokes and laughed, but this was different. This felt like her laughter was just for him.

  He dropped onto the bed while he waited for her to carry out his instructions. The bed was designed with Viking-sized bodies in mind, a big, hand-carved sleigh-bed piled high with blankets, furs, and an obscene number of pillows. She stared at the soft mountain and was that lust in her eyes for his 400-count sheets?

  “Oh, God. This is nice.” She bounced on the bed, grinning as she made snow angels in the covers. “Best. Bed. Ever.”

  He added her comment to the running tally he was keeping in his head. Rumor had it that the Packs lived hard-scrabble lives and, so far, he’d seen no evidence to dispute that. “The Pack doesn’t believe in beds?”

  She grinned up at him. “God, no. Alpha has a blow up mattress. The rest of us have sleeping bags.”

  The room was warm and he wanted her clothes off. In fact, he wanted her naked yesterday.

  “I told you to do something,” he said.

  “Right.” She chewed on her lip, looking delightfully uncertain. “Is this part of that whole submission thing?”

  He wanted…to play with her. She was looking for something she hadn’t found yet. He didn’t know if she’d had a submissive side before she’d become a wolf, but part of her felt lost and confused, like the sexual landscape had changed around her and she didn’t know the rules or particularly like the players. He ached to change that for her. He wanted to mark her, to rub his scent over her, until both the woman and the wolf acknowledged his place in her life and, just possibly, she gave him the same welcome home smile Pure gave his brother.

  And…whoa. He had no idea where that desire had come from. This was about sex and pleasure. Nothing else. He made a take it off gesture with his hand. He needed to stop overthinking this.

  “Got it.” She grinned at him and stood up on the bed, her feet braced on either side of his legs. She pulled his borrowed shirt over her head, tossing it behind her. She was messy. Impulsive. And she fascinated him. Since he hadn’t been able to find her a bra back at the keep, going shirtless bared her beautiful breasts. She was a perfect handful, her brown nipples begging for his kiss. He wanted to lean up, to tongue her nipples, suck her naughty tips into his mouth and taste her like the sweetest candy.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m not done here.” She nudged him in the chest with her booted foot, knocking him back onto the pillows. Just who was in charge?

  Then she gave a little shimmy, reaching up to pull her hair free of her ponytail and to run her fingers through the long strands. Yeah. She was treating him to a deliberate strip tease. His little wolf was playing with him. This playful side was new. Of course, back in the pit, she’d been scared and hurting. He would give anything to erase those memories and replace them with something happier for her. Unfortunately, when Loki had created the berserkers, he’d skipped the magic wand feature.

  “So keep going,” he said roughly. His dick was ironhard and she’d barely gotten started. If she had any idea how easily she could tie him into knots…not going there.

  “You bet, big guy.” She bent over—Jesus—and unlaced the boots, peeking up at him through all that gorgeous hair.

  She straightened up and held out her hand. “Help a girl out here?”

  When he held out a hand, she leaned on him, her slim, warm fingers closing around his as she toed off the boots. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached out with his free hand, grabbed her boots and set them down on the floor beside the bed. She toyed with the button on her pants.

  “Don’t stop.” Please.

  “You got it.” She flashed him a smile and popped the button. A quick shimmy and shake and she was pushing the leather down her thighs, leaving only her thong between him and heaven.

  “I like that. Come here.”

  He guided her forward until she was standing over him and then he leaned up and kissed her through the silk fabric. Her soft sigh was all the encouragement he needed. He dragged his thumbs up her center, drinking in her sweet scent.

  “Calder—”

  Off-balance, she staggered on the bed, her hands gripping his shoulders.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  He sucked at her clit through her panties, loving her incoherent little shrieks and demands. He licked and drew circles around her with his tongue and she got louder, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  Beautiful. The way she let go for him was fucking gorgeous. He flicked his tongue over her, teasing her through the damp fabric. And then, right when she was on the edge, the tiny tremors rippling through her flesh, he stopped.

  “Calder—” There was his name again, part moan, part complaint.

  He scooped her up and set her back against his pillows. “We’re putting this on pause. Taking a time out while you think things over.”

  Before she could say anything else, he tore his shirt into strips and used them to tie her wrists to the bed. Yeah. He was a primitive bastard.

  Sue him.

  ~~~

  He was going to make her wait? Disappointment and arousal coursed through her. Who knew her Viking had a playful side? And did she really want to discover that fact now?

  Absolutely, positively not.

  She licked her lips. “If we’re playing bondage games, do I get a safe word?”

  “No.” He wrapped her up in a fur. The room was actually deliciously, fantastically warm. She was in no danger
of getting cold, but his concern was sweet. She had no idea if it was deliberate or not.

  “Wow. That’s harsh.”

  “No is your safe word. You don’t like something, you tell me. Hurting you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

  She wanted to believe him. God, what she’d give to feel safe, particularly with this man. Having a thing for a Viking was crazy. She didn’t need to think about it to know that. Not only did he go berserk when he got pissed off, but he came with a pack of brothers who’d pretty much made it their life mission to stamp out her new people. While she hadn’t asked to become a werewolf, she was one. There was no getting around it.

  And yet she wanted to be here with him. She wanted his body covering hers, his hands holding her down as he took her body and made her see stars from the pleasure of it all. Talking would be a good thing too, because they hadn’t done enough of that when they’d been cellmates. She wanted to know things like his favorite food and his pet peeves and why the hell he hadn’t painted his cabin, because the weathered wood was brown and boring instead of red or purple or any one of a half-dozen different lurid paint colors that she’d seen when she’d passed through the town of Katuaq.

  He was staring at her. Right. He’d promised not to hurt her and she’d gone off to visit fantasyland.

  “No pain. Got it.”

  Calder smiled and, oh God, she was in trouble of a different kind. Usually, his smile was a barely there tug of his lips, his emotions lighting up his eyes but barely registering on his face because the man did an excellent impression of a brick wall. This grin was bold and happy and knowing. Definitely in trouble here.

  “You like it when I spank you.”

  Well. Yeah. The urge to tease him, to push him into doing so again had her squirming on his bed and his grin just got wider.

  “We don’t have to talk about everything.”

  He leaned in and ran his palm down her bare arm. “You’re going to ask for it.”

  “This is that whole submit thing, isn’t it? Admit it.”

  “You’re going to trust me to give you what you need.” He shoved off the bed and headed for the door.