A Viking's Lost Soul

by T. M. Grinsley

  “Thank you. How did you know my father?” She tightens her grip, pulling me in closer.

  I take a step closer, inhaling her perfume, which causes a wave of emotions to wash over me. “Protect her with your life. Break her heart if you must. Do not let her fall into their hands.” Cameron’s last words start to fill my head, but I block them out. I have waited for this woman since I was thirteen years old. We are seven years apart, but I am done waiting. Screw my brothers and the order. Time to take what is mine.

  “I would love to know more. My father was a secretive man.”

  “Some secrets are meant to be buried,” I mutter under my breath.

  Stephanie is about to say something, but the minister interrupts us. He places his hand on her shoulder, motioning its time to cut it short and head inside to the reception room. She gives me a slight nod and follows the minister inside. Most likely where the drunks and fat fucks will stuff their face, talking about bullshit nonsense, not knowing a fucking thing about who Cameron really was. Not to mention, the fact that she looks like a kitten being thrown to the fucking wolves.

  “Easy, Finn.” Liam emerges from out of nowhere, knowing exactly what is on my mind. “Darren and Ian are inside; she is safe.”

  “I don’t fucking care. I should be in there with her.” I snap.

  “Dude, calm the fuck down. Not like anyone is fucking that piece of ass anyway. I would love to volunteer if she needed to see how it’s done.”

  My hand wraps around Dimitri’s throat before I know what is happening. A feral growl erupts from my throat, and all I see is my next victim. My fingers tighten their grip, his pulse quickening as I cut off his airway.

  “Watch your fucking tongue, boy, or I will rip it from your throat and feed it to the fucking pigs,” I growl, doing everything in my power not to kill one of my own.

  “Finn, stand down!” I hear Liam’s command, but nothing registers. I am no longer in control.

  Dimitri’s pulse starts to weaken, giving my inner demon satisfaction. Don’t fuck with me and what’s mine.

  “GOD DAMMIT, FINN! You are killing him.”

  I feel massive arms wrap around me, pulling me off my bróðir. The demon inside fights to break free, but when Liam’s face comes into view, everything stills.

  “Get inside and protect Stephanie. I will handle Dimitri.” Liam's voice tells me he is not to be trifled with. Not trusting my voice, I grunt in response, shaking off the hands that kept me in place.

  “Daniel and Karl. Get Dimitri the fuck out of here, and head back to the hotel. Bjarne and Asbjørn aren't here. Set up a perimeter around her home and check out Cameron’s office. They are here somewhere, find them.” Liam barks orders at our men, as I make my way inside.

  Balling my hands into fists, I can feel my nails penetrate the skin. I have never attacked one of my own. Fuck! If I don’t claim her soon, not even my brothers will be safe from me.

  Chapter 5

  ~ Stephanie ~

  A few days pass, and I am back in my apartment with Luna, eating a tub of chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate syrup, smashed Oreo cookies, and sprinkles. Yeah, I know, this is going to go straight to my ass, but right now I couldn’t give a shit less.

  The reception was beautiful, and my father would have loved to see how much love was shared in that room. Everyone gave a speech about what a wonderful man he was and reminisced in the good old days. To be honest, the man they were talking about was foreign to me. He was a hermit, kept to himself, and loved to talk about movies.

  Oh please. My father traveled the world, used to quote his favorite shows, and was the life of the party. So, I kept my mouth shut and pretended like I was listening.

  So, as you can imagine, I zoned them out completely, and people watched. Yes, I like to watch people and be entertained. It is bizarre, but for me, it’s fascinating. I can’t tell you how many times Etienne and I would go to the mall and watch people. We would even be commentators and try to figure out what they were saying. It sounds lame, but every time, we would end up on the floor laughing our asses off.

  As time drug on, my eyes kept drifting back to the mystery man who captured my attention during my eulogy. He was hot as sin and way out of my league. As I gave my eulogy, I noticed his eyes drifted back to me every so often, and I could see a slight curve of his lips every time he looked at me, but it was gone in an instant. He talked to several people at the reception, but his eyes never strayed too far from mine.

  As the crowd started to dwindle and people began to head home, Etienne slipped something onto my lap. I looked around the room, making sure no one saw what he just did.

  Lifting my right brow in a show of confusion, Etienne shrugged his shoulders and went back to listening to an old man talk about going to a football game with my dad. Oh, that was a fantastic day. Denver destroyed Oakland 63-10. I was in heaven as I watched my dad go off. Granted, it’s football and no one should go ballistic about a team losing a game but try explaining that to millions of people.

  Biting my lip so I wouldn’t laugh or cause a scene, I looked at the paper on my lap and gasped when I saw what it was. Written in cursive was my father’s name on a small envelope, and on the back, written in small letters, were the words, ‘open in private.’

  “Etienne?”

  “Later.” He whispered, not taking his eyes off the old man.

  Giving him my best stink eye, I slipped the envelope into my purse and did my best not to doze off. Usually, someone would bite their best friend’s head off for pulling a stunt like that, but for Etienne and me, it was different. One look could speak a thousand words, and at that moment, it told me I needed to be alone when I opened the letter, where there were no other prying eyes lurking around for something to gossip about.

  The rest of the day was uneventful. The hot mystery man kept his distance as time started to drag. Seven hours later and I was swaying on my feet, ready to get home. Most of the guests had departed, but the strange men from earlier stayed behind. A few of them talked to Etienne, while the others helped myself and the minister clean up the place. Folding the last of the chairs in the reception room, I felt a light touch on my shoulder and turned to see the mystery man staring back at me.

  “Kveða, Stephanie. I apologize for not speaking to you sooner. My name is Finn.”

  Leaning the chairs against the table, I looked into his blue eyes and almost swooned. If you want a good mental picture of this man, think of Rollo from the Vikings, but shorter hair, and ripped like Dwayne Johnson, with a Norwegian accent. That right there is enough to make any girl wet just looking at him.

  Mentally kicking myself for thinking about wet panties, I shook my head and continued to check him out. He has a small beard that looked soft to the touch, a square jawline begging to be licked, arms asking to be groped, and… holy hell woman. Snap out of it.

  Sticking my hand out to shake his, I noticed a touch of dark blue outlining his irises and small specks of gold scattered throughout. I went to say something to Finn, but nothing came out. Gaping like an idiot, I cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the chairs.

  “It’s nice to meet you. How did you know my father?” Way to go, Nils. If you couldn’t even look at the dude, how the hell did you expect him to notice you? Oi vey, I’m doomed.

  “Your father and mine were very close when they were young. I grew up hearing stories of your father and had to pay my respects. I met him a few times, but only briefly.” Finn tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at me.

  “My father was a secretive man on some things. He told me a few things about my family and his friends back home. What was your father’s name?”

  “Edgar.”

  Edgar was my father’s best friend and brother from another mother. From the stories he told me, they would do everything together. They were inseparable. That was until my father left Norway, and they had hardly ever spoken since. At least, that is what my father said.

  “I remember t
hat name. How is your father?” Grabbing the stack of chairs, I waited for Finn's response.

  “Here, let me.” Large hands covered mine, as he took the stack of chairs away from me. Sparks ignited on my skin, and a wave of emotions wracked my body. How the hell can one touch from a man cause this kind of reaction? Not to mention, a guy I just met? Oi, we’re in trouble, Nils.

  “Thank you.”

  “My father passed away several years ago. I kept in touch with your father over the years and made sure to keep the promise I made to Edgar.” Finn carried the stack of chairs with ease and put them in the closet with the rest of the lot.

  “What promise was that?” I asked, doing my best not to check out his backside and imagine him butt ass naked as he fucked my brains out.

  “To keep an eye on the old man and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Finn chuckled and turned to see me ogling him. “See anything you like?”

  “I… uhh… you see… yeah… umm. Guilty.” Way to go, you nitwit. I was ten shades red and about ready to run when Finn walked up to me and placed a gentle hand on my cheek.

  “I have waited a long time to see you again. I had to see for myself why Cameron left the country to protect his daughter.” Finn's scent wrapped around me and caused my heart to skyrocket. He smelled of fresh aftershave, trouble, and mystery. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, and his breath fanned my cheeks.

  “Oh? And what did you find?”

  “Someone men would go to war for.” Finn leaned forward and kissed my temple, making it impossible to breathe. “Until we meet again, Stephanie Nils.”

  I stayed frozen, trying to get my heartbeat and breathing under control as I watched Finn leave the room. He paused mid-step in the doorway and turned to give me one last look before he was gone.

  “What the hell was that? See me again?” I muttered out loud. I groaned loudly and leaned against the table, waiting for my body to get back to normal. One look from that man and I was a goner. Rubbing my legs together, I could feel the moisture pool between my legs, telling me my vagina was ready to go to pow town with this guy.

  Well, it looks like we had a date with Ragnar tonight. Nice hot bubble bath and my trusty vibrator should help calm my nerves.

  Kicking off my shoes, I rubbed my feet, thankful that day was over. The ceremony would have made my father proud. A gold jar with Viking runes etched in an intricate design depicting my father’s life.

  Born in Norway, it was his dying wish to get a Vikings funeral. His exact words were, “I don't want to be cremated or buried. Just put me out on a boat and light me on fire like the Vikings.” Etienne and I called around to several local areas, to see if we could make that happen, and every single one stated it was impossible. So, we cremated my father and burned a small boat with his picture along the river.

  Apparently, my father had other instructions on what he wanted me to do after his death, but I had no idea what the hell they were. The lawyer said after the funeral, and a two-week morning period, he would give me a letter from my father explaining everything. I argued with him, of course, doing whatever I could to get my father’s letter, but he insisted I needed to wait. Blasted legal crap.

  Now, fast forward to the present, with a spoonful of chocolate chip ice cream, my life is a mess. I am two days away from getting whatever the hell the letter is from my father, and I am a nervous wreck. Why did my father make me wait two weeks? Not to mention, Finn is always on my mind. The way his skin felt on mine. His voice causing waves of pleasure to ignite inside of me when I think of him at night.

  “So, when are you going to see him again? And I am so sorry I couldn’t get the time off to come to the funeral. You have no idea how much it killed me that I wasn’t there.” Sam’s voice brings me back to the present as my mind wants to go back to Finn, yet again.

  Shifting the phone on my shoulder, I shoveled another spoon full of ice cream. “When hell freezes over. You should have seen him. And it’s fine. It was a bore. The night we burned the small boat with Dad’s picture was a better reception anyway.”

  Sam has been my best friend since high school and is a free spirit. When we graduated from high school, she got an internship with a local magazine to take pictures all over the world. Her photographs have been displayed in museums, malls, and royal events. She has a way of capturing life with a single click. Right now, she is in New Zealand, taking pictures of some local tribe, and she promised to get a few pictures of where Xena Warrior Princess was filmed. Yeah, diehard fan over here.

  “Please, from the sounds of it, and the constant bitching from Etienne, it sounds like you have yourself a new boy toy.” I hear giggling on the other end of the phone, and I can hear someone talking to her as her focus turns to them.

  My eyes drift to the massive bowl of ice cream in my hands, making my thighs start to ache. I try to tell myself I am eating my weight in ice cream when in reality, I am eating my weight in sugar because a six-foot-six sex god has caused my nerves to go into overdrive. My skin still tingles from his touch and that kiss. I just wish it was on my lips and not my temple.

  “Steph? I have to get back. I expect to hear juicy details when we talk again. And don’t forget to take out that fox thing. It may spice things up.”

  “So not going to happen. I do not put things up my ass. That is a pooper. An outie, not an innie.” The thought of that thing in my ass while having sex, nope. Not going to happen.

  Sam’s laugh on the other end makes me pull the phone away from my ear. “Outie… pooper… freaking crazy. Ragnar, vroom, vroom.” Sam hiccups each word as she tries to get control of her breathing.

  “We are so not having that conversation again. One time I slip and shoot Ragnar up my butt and get it stuck. One time and you never let me forget it.” This time it’s me who’s doing my best not to crack a smile about that night. My poor butt.

  “I love you, Steph. I’ve got to go, but it looks like this shoot may be done way ahead of schedule. Can’t wait to hear more. Bye!”

  “Love you, Sam.” And then the phone goes silent. Freaking Sam.

  The past week, I finalized all the paperwork for my father’s passing and threw myself back into work. Not once did I crack a smile, but one phone call from Sam and I’m back to my old self.

  I miss her every day but know she could never stay in one place too long. The thought of Sam in a stuffy room with people who were older than dirt would have her squirming to get out of there. Dad would want us to celebrate and be outdoors as we mourned his death, not be indoors and all dressed in black. But Etienne insisted, so I went along with it.

  Now, back to the problem at hand. Finn. Who is he? Why did he fly all the way out here to meet me and then leave? Did I smell bad? Was I not what he was looking for? Shut up you damn brain, we don’t even know the guy, and now we are arguing over why he left. Bloody hell, I am so screwed.

  It doesn’t help matters that I have been waking up in a sweat from the steamy sex dreams I keep having about him. But what’s weird is, I’ve had this strange feeling I have seen him before. I have no idea where this feeling came from, but a few nights ago I remembered a time I wish I never had to ever revisit. But he was there, saving me.

  “Meow.”

  I shake my head to get rid of that horrid nightmare and see Luna sprawled on her back with her paws in the air, waiting for her belly rub. Her tail swishes back in forth, telling me if I don’t pet her soon, the war would start.

  Dropping my spoon into the tub of ice cream, I scratch Luna’s belly. She purrs loudly, moving in all directions so I could scratch my nails all over her.

  “Meow.” Luna curls up into a ball and soon falls fast asleep.

  I lean my head back against the couch and think about everything that has happened. I have come to terms with my father’s death, because he is no longer in pain, and to me, that is all that matters. He is with the gods, and I’m sure he’s tracking down the heroes he worshipped from history, trying to get answers to the
questions he has had for years.

  A mental image of my father having a heated discussion with Henry Tudor, Ragnar Lodbrok, or Leonidas makes me laugh. Not to mention, he would chase down the goddess, Freya, since she is the one woman he has worshipped, besides my mother.

  Laughter echoes off the walls of my apartment as I imagine my father’s having a heated discussion with Henry Tudor. He used to call that man a veslingr, puny wench because he could never keep a woman. Granted, Henry was a horndog, and I am surprised his dick didn’t fall off from all the women he fucked, but that is neither here nor there.

  I hear keys jingle outside my front door, telling me Etienne is about to invade. The door slams open, and I see him slide into my living room, wearing a Superman costume, with his hands on his hips and his chin in the air. But what kills the entire look are the small white socks on his feet.

  “Dun duna nana. Lady Nils, I have come to rescue you!” Etienne brings his right arm in front of his face, and the other grasps his cape as he runs to the sofa and plops down next to me. Luna jolts from her slumber and jumps into my lap. She hisses at Etienne, which causes me to laugh.

  Laughter pours from my mouth as tears roll down my cheeks. “You. Look. Fucking. Ridiculous.” I say between each giggle.

  “I look fucking fantastic. Superman is the shit.” He responds as he puts his feet on the coffee table.

  “I beg to differ on that one.”

  “Watch it, wench. Don’t you dare say it.” Etienne threatens.

  He shifts his body to face me and puffs out his chest to show off the ‘S.’ If he wasn’t like a brother to me, I would swoon over his broad chest and killer muscles, but ew. I am a sucker for killer muscular arms and a broad chest that screams ‘lick me.’ But on Etienne… that’s just weird.

  A small shadow of a smile begins to appear on the corners of his lips, but he does everything he can to keep a serious face.

  “Or what?” I challenge.

  “Or I shall be forced to throw you over my shoulder and feed you to the hungry wolves just waiting to devour you.” He wiggles his eyebrows and scratches Luna’s head, doing what he can to get back on her good side.