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

by Marsh, Anne

  He traced the seam of her butt and then penetrated her rear hole with his thumb. A bright pop of pleasure-pain. Fullness. More. He pushed deep, rasping his thumb against the sensitive tissues.

  She could imagine so many things. Him taking her there, where he worked his finger. Ramming himself in and out of her ass. Nothing gentle or tender, just raw, hard sex. Her taking him. Her breathing hitched and she moaned. Oh, God. She liked that. Liked him.

  “If that’s first, what’s next?” she asked hoarsely.

  He smiled and slid down further, pulling the fur away completely. Okay. She didn’t need or want it. He tunneled his finger slowly in and then out of her butt. The sensation wasn’t comfortable, too intense, too dark. So good that it made her weak-knees with pleasure because apparently her body didn’t crave comfortable.

  “This is next.” He licked her, a bolt of hot, wet pleasure that shot straight through her core.

  ~~~

  Tyra’s skin was damp, her face flushed. He loved having her spread out here in his bed, stripped down and bare and all pale skin against the sheets and furs. If he could get inside her head, he would, but for now he’d make do with this. Yeah, he had a medieval mindset, but he didn’t give a fuck. The only person who mattered right now was Tyra and giving her what she craved.

  He licked her again. Slowly. A deep swipe of his tongue from the bottom of her creamy slit to the top.

  Her heels dug into his back as she whimpered and he grinned. She was a dirty girl and he loved that side of her too. She wasn’t afraid to enjoy him and she’d have made one hell of a Viking. Carefully, he pushed her thighs wider.

  Opening her up further just made him hotter. Her folds glistened, slick with her wet, and a dark tuft of curls hid her last secret. He blew lightly and she jerked, moaning something. Probably another order, but he did it again anyhow. Then licked her there where she tasted like sunshine and mead.

  His.

  “You’re mean.” Her complaint came out too breathy to have any bite.

  “Not about this.” He meant it too. She was a gift, a temporary loan, and he wouldn’t make the mistakes the wolves had made. Whatever they had or hadn’t done, they hadn’t been enough because his Tyra needed this.

  Still, because he was a greedy bastard who wanted it all, he stole a moment for himself, resting his cheek against the top of her mound and breathing her in. If he’d been any kind of a fucking bard, he’d have had words for how sweet she smelled. But he wasn’t and he didn’t, even though he knew he’d never forget her.

  “I could do this all night,” he told her gruffly.

  She nudged his back with her heel. “Do something now.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gave her a tiny smack on her pussy. She didn’t ride roughshod over him. “That’s not what you want.”

  Her outraged hiss followed quick on the heels of his love tap, but he didn’t miss the gush of moisture.

  “You want me in charge,” he said.

  He licked the slick seam of her folds. Did it again, shoving the furs beneath her ass and spreading her open with his fingers, so he could kiss her good. Tasted and traced each secret seam and place. Her hips bucked upward and she rewarded him with a husky, keening moan. She liked this.

  “I want to hear you say it,” he growled.

  “Calder—”

  “I’ve got some demands of my own, so you go right ahead and tell me.” He ran his tongue down her slick fold, penetrating her with his tongue while his thumb worked her ass. “Admit your ass is burning and you want more.”

  Admit you want me.

  “God, yes.”

  He sucked her clit, using his tongue to rub the sensitive area beneath it. Pressed against the hard nub with the fingers of his free hand, stroking down first one tiny slope and then the other. She was so close. With each kiss, she trembled, her clit starting to spasm.

  “You’re going to come for me again,” he promised, long minutes later when he lifted his head.

  “Make me.” She stared at him, eyes full of defiance.

  Hell, yeah.

  ~~~

  Calder untied her, flipping her over. She felt boneless and limp—except for the throbbing pulse deep inside still beating out the after-rhythm of her orgasm. God. She could sleep for a month of Sundays now and too bad for him.

  “We’re not done.”

  Please.

  He smacked her butt. “Up.”

  “You like doing that too much,” she grumbled, but she let him tug her onto her knees. Butt tilted up for his invasion, head down, his hand resting on the small of her back. She stretched into it like a cat, muscles loosening, her body preparing.

  “Now you’re teasing me.” His sexy rasp was pure encouragement, so…

  “It doesn’t sound like you mind.” She did it again, working out the tightness in her thighs from clenching and riding his face and his shoulders.

  “Next time,” he growled. “Next time, I’m going to spank this pretty ass of yours while you ride my fingers. You’re going to enjoy it. Maybe not as much as me, but you’re going to beg for it. Crave it.”

  She already craved him.

  That should have scared her, but…this was Calder. He made hard decisions and he fought like a wild man, but he was also a good man. The wolf Pack was no easy place. Even wasn’t the kind of guy to lift a hand in anger, although she’d heard plenty of stories about Leif and his cronies. Hell, she’d seen things and taken her share of blows as well. The Pack was a might makes right kind of place, which was something she needed to change. Coming here to Calder, choosing him, had been the right thing to do. Somehow they fit together in a way she and the wolves didn’t.

  He pushed her legs wider apart, in her space and coming closer still, pleasure replacing the quick jolt of uncertainty. She had nothing to hold onto now but the pillows and the man. He circled her opening with the tip of his dick and then he pushed slowly in. He didn’t hold back, didn’t stop. Just came in and in. He reached places she hadn’t known a man could touch. But that was Calder.

  Hers…

  She pushed back at him, twisting. Fighting for the pleasure she craved. He caught her, holding her down for his next stroke, pushing her higher. Her whimpered demands became moans and soft pants of sound. Please. Mine. More. Her body tightened around his, milking him. Pleasure’s edge reached for her, tempted her, and then he reached beneath her, stroking her clit in hard, small circles and there was no more holding back, only letting go and giving in. She came apart beneath him, pleasure gripping her, and he was right there with her. He rode her, claimed her, pinning her to the bed and beneath his body. And she loved it, loved the way his dick and his sweat and his weight marked her. Made her his.

  Afterwards, the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Hold me?”

  ~~~

  Wrong guy, sweetheart. He rolled over onto his back, his head hitting the pillows. He was a Viking. He did tough, mean, and kick-ass. If she wanted gentle stuff, she’d asked the wrong man.

  “Calder?” Fuck. Now she sounded anxious.

  He could figure this out. He cracked an eye and discovered her staring at him, her hair standing up on end around her pink face and kiss-swollen lips.

  “Come here,” he growled. He sounded about as welcoming as the grim reaper but she’d have to work with him. He tugged her against his chest and she settled in with a sigh. So far, so good. And, when he snagged a fur and tucked it around her, he got a feeling of pride. She seemed…okay.

  He rubbed her back, smoothing her hair back until the black strands clung to his sword-roughened hands. This part he was less sure how to handle and that was the truth. He was a fucking cuddling virgin. Thank God none of his brothers could see this because he’d never live it down.

  “Like this?” Don’t ask for directions. Take charge.

  She rested her palm against his chest. “You’re good.” Something in his chest—not his heart, because he didn’t come with that piece of hardware
, but something unfamiliar and his all the same—swelled with pride at her praise. But she wasn’t done wrapping him around her slender fingers. “That was—”

  He looked down at her and, uh-huh, she was blushing.

  “You ride my mouth like a wild woman and yet you still blush.” That was a minor miracle right there, it was. The grin tugging his mouth was also guaranteed to rile her up and, sure enough, she smacked his chest with her hand.

  “Don’t spoil it.”

  “Nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. I like it.”

  “Good.” Had she brushed a kiss against his nipple? He wasn’t sure, but his heart picked up the pace and, shit, maybe the under-used organ had even skipped a bit. His little werewolf was dangerous.

  “You’re still good.” She hummed, off-key, settling in like a sleepy pup.

  “I’ll be even better next time. “He was a fighter and he’d mastered those skills through centuries of practice, repeating the same stroke over and over until he perfected it.

  She blinked sleepily. “Is that even possible?”

  Happiness bloomed somewhere inside him.

  “Go to sleep,” he said gruffly. He pressed his face against her hair, just to see what she smelled like now. Her and him. Them. Fuck it. His brothers could wait. The whole damn world could wait. She’d sleep and he’d hold her. He could practice these cuddling skills.

  “Oh. Shit.” She shoved upright, her eyes widening. “The sun’s going down,” she said and he didn’t have to ask how she knew. She was a werewolf and a night shifter. He gripped her chin, scanning her face for answers he didn’t want. He’d watched her shift night after night in the pits, turned inside out inch by painful inch.

  “You still can’t control it.”

  “Most of us can’t. Only the strongest can.”

  He’d never—ever—thought of her as weak. Not after he’d known her for longer than five minutes. He might pack more muscle than she did, but she had an inner steel. They’d sent her to fight in the pits and, night after night, she’d done what she had to do to survive and come back to him.

  “Remember. You vowed.” She fought her shift, clinging to her humanity as the light faded and biology took over. He wanted to tell her he liked her in either form, but she was too desperate to get the words out. To remind him of his connection to her, when there was no way in fucking hell he ever forgot it. She was under his skin in a way he didn’t understand—and didn’t mind.

  “Never question my word.” He stared at her, willing her to understand, but she bucked against his careful hold, her muscles straining. He wasn’t afraid of her wolf side. Fuck. No. Somehow, he’d find a way to hold onto her. But she wasn’t listening anymore. Fur ran over her bare skin, covering her up.

  “Armageddon’s here,” she rasped. “I know my kind has a bad rep, but not all of us want to end the world.”

  “Don’t,” he growled. Don’t make excuses? Don’t explain? He didn’t know what he meant. She certainly didn’t have to be a perfect princess for him. He liked his dirty girl with her impish humor and endless craving for pleasure. Don’t go?

  “You have to believe me,” she said, more urgently this time. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving behind bright pinpricks of pain, the blood pooling where she held on.

  “It’s complicated.” He’d made promises to his brothers. He was a Viking.

  She let go of him, stretching. Bones cracked, but she glared at him. “You promised to help me look after my pack. Stand by us…”

  He had.

  He would.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he was on her side, by her side, but the sun sank the last few inches below the horizon and the shift rolled over her. She growled and rolled, coming up on the balls of her feet.

  The white wolf bit him hard enough to break his skin, her canines sinking into the fleshy part of his forearm. The wound stung, but she didn’t tear the skin. Didn’t shred the vein—just marked him and let go. Yeah. He’d figure it out later.

  “You’d better not be part vampire,” he growled.

  Undeterred, she leapt off the bed. He didn’t know how much of Tyra was in the wolf—or how in control she was, but he’d have bet a pit match that his wolf was laughing at him. And that was the thing, wasn’t it. She was a goddamn wolf. Wolves didn’t want to stop Armageddon. Her kind did their fucking best to bring it on. Now he had a pet wolf and a problem, because she’d kept her end of the bargain…and he’d keep his.

  He shoved off the bed, not sure if his wolf would attack him or not. Instead, she curled up on the bed with a huff. Yeah, he had a lot to learn. He swiped his clothes from the floor and beat a strategic retreat from the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Shutting her in.

  Grabbing his cellphone, he punched in the familiar number. When Vikar answered, he said: “Change in plan. Can you all come to my place?”

  5

  When his brothers arrived, it was still dark. They snuck a quick peek in the bedroom door because none of them were lacking in the curiosity department except, perhaps, for Rad.

  Vikar whistled. “You have a pet werewolf. Ballsy.”

  His wolf bite itched like mad, black marks streaking away from the two small punctures she’d made in his arm. Instead of a conversation about STDs and who’d been tested when, they could discuss rabies shots. Fantastic.

  Vikar got straight down to business. “Did you bring her here, let her onto the island?”

  No need to define the her in question. Every man in the room knew who Calder had stashed in his bedroom.

  “No. She came looking for me.”

  “Why?”

  Yeah. That was the question, wasn’t it? “She hired me to do a job.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “Muscle. Protection. For some reason, she believes the entire paranormal world is going to be gunning for her pack now that Ragnarök is here.”

  “She’s not wrong.” Vikar’s hard gaze pinned him. “Odin wants the pelt of every werewolf nailed to the front door of his keep. Why should your female’s pack be the exception?”

  “She says they don’t want to end the world.”

  “A case of mistaken identity?”

  “No idea.” He had no facts, other than an inclination to believe her.

  Vikar nodded. “You know we have to push back on her, right? If there’s any chance she’s holding out on you or hiding information, we need to know. Ragnarök isn’t a tea party.”

  His brother’s eyes held no judgment. He’d fucked up plenty in his lifetime. Maybe this would go okay. He’d keep Tyra safe. No matter what it took. She could hate him for it, but she wouldn’t die and she wouldn’t get hurt.

  Not much.

  And not on his watch.

  “Tell me how hard you want to push,” he said.

  ~~~

  The world looked different through the wolf’s eyes. The lack of light in the room was no problem, its eyes picking out the minutest of details effortlessly. Each inhale brought new impressions of Calder’s den. Interesting scents. Leather. Machine oil. Steel. And the scent of the man himself. The wolf also knew when the other males approached the cabin. The wolf already felt safe here and territorial, determined to make the cabin the heart of her new territory.

  As the night wore on, the wolf got up and paced the room, rubbing against the furniture to scent mark it and to mingle its scent with Calder’s. Outside, Calder opened the door and let the new group of men inside. Teeth bared, ears pointed forward, the wolf whined. The berserkers in the other room were unknowns and the

  Wolf was still Tyra, just a more primitive, feral version. Scenting no aggression from Calder, only pleasure and a note of caution, the wolf subsided.

  When the sun rose and she shifted back, the low rumble of male voices reached her from the other room. She grabbed the stack of neatly folded clothes from beside the bed—Calder’s work—and dressed while she listened for clues about their visitors. Although her Pack was fine with casual nudity, strolling
out naked in front of a bunch of Vikings would be stupid. Their orgies were legendary, after all. Their dynamic was also strangely, comfortingly Pack-like. They cared about each other even as they fought, but there was also a clearly established dominance order.

  When she tried the doorknob, she half-expected it to be locked. Instead, it turned easily and she padded out. The guard to the left of the door was a surprise.

  Shit. So much for convincing her Viking to trust her. After all, she was pretty sure she hadn’t gone for his throat when she shifted.

  Almost certain.

  Maybe.

  The guard spun her around and ziptied her wrists before she could protest. “You don’t want to trade names first?”

  He didn't mention an all access pass to the outside for her, or even toss her a greeting. He just tightened the set of plastic zipties manacling her wrists together. Unfortunately, the plastic zipties would likely stick with her through her shift.

  When the Viking guard leaned down, his mouth by her ear, she felt unexpectedly small and feminine. Damn it. “Var,” he growled. “Consider us acquainted.”

  Nope. Knowing his name didn’t help at all.

  He pulled her effortlessly along after him, and she went because there was no choice. This was all his way and she couldn't stop him. Cold snaked through her belly. There was no way this ended but badly. Var took her straight to the same living room she'd been in before, a room that now held six males.

  Her first impression of the Vikings waiting for her as that their reputation as the fiercest of the pit fighters had been well-earned. None of them looked happy to see her, either. Surely, offering their boy a paying gig had to count for something? A quick look turned up no Calder, although she sensed he was near. Interesting, too, that he’d chosen to absent himself. It probably didn’t bode well for her.

  Show no fear. “Do you all tie up your lovers?”

  Vikar didn’t move from his position on Calder’s sofa. “Are you volunteering to take on all of us?”

  At the moment, given the look of icy focus on Vikar’s face, that was a resounding hel, no.

  Vikar motioned to Var. “Untie her.”

  The way the blade cut through the plastic ties scared her, too. The cold metal pressed against her skin and there was an ominous pressure and then the pop of relief as the ties gave and spilled her wrists into Var’s hand.