A Real Man: Limited Edition

by Jenika Snow

  “You make me happier than I can put into words.”

  I leaned down and kissed her, taking in her very breath, the very essence of her.

  “Do you wish things were different, that you could change your decision with me?”

  “Never,” she whispered. “This is where I belong. I knew that the moment I looked into your eyes back in my destroyed village. I knew I was meant to be here with you.” She shook her head slowly. “I can’t explain any of it, but I don’t want to. I want to be able to enjoy this, to not worry about anything else because I know this is where I’m supposed to be, by your side.”

  I pulled her in close, kept her tucked against me, my hand on her belly, my life content. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here. With me.”

  Ingrid

  Nine months later

  “So strong, so beautiful.”

  I could hear Gunnar, but my heart was thundering in my ears, my body was damp with sweat, and the pain I felt racked my entire body. But this was all worth it. I was going to have our baby. Our lives would change for the better. The scent of herbs burning and the traditions of our people surrounded us.

  And then my child was born—our son or daughter—and it felt like the heavens opened up, brought down the gods and Valhalla itself into my life.

  The little cry that came through was one of a warrior. Whether boy or girl, this little baby would be strong, would be proud of where he or she had come from.

  “A son,” Gunnar said, and I felt my smile stretch across my face.

  Once the baby was cleaned and wrapped in warm cloth, Gunnar handed him to me.

  “A son, Ingrid.” He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “You make me so proud, so happy.”

  I smiled up at my husband. Then we both looked down at our son.

  “Little Lachlan,” I whispered, touching his head, the blond hair like the softest fur I’d ever felt.

  “He’ll be strong, know how to fight, to defend.”

  I nodded.

  “He’ll know that his family, his people love him.”

  I looked at Gunnar then. “He’ll know of our history, of our path,” I supplied. Gunnar rested his forehead on mine, and we breathed the same air.

  Family wasn’t just about Gunnar and me together. It wasn’t about the baby we’d just welcomed into our community.

  It was about the world we were in, the people that surrounded us, and the love we had for each other. I knew without Gunnar, without me agreeing to come with him after everything, my future would have been bleak and dark.

  It was my Viking that made my world bright, made me see each day with a positive outlook, and brought this little baby into our lives.

  Together we were stronger than anything else.

  He was my Viking, and I was the strong woman by his side.

  The End

  Viking Bonus Scene

  Ingrid

  I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at seeing my Viking warrior teach our son how to fish off the shore. The water lapped against the white washed rocks, the frigid air moving over us like a lover’s caress. I had our infant daughter in my lap, the berries she greedily grabbed out of my hand and shoving into her little mouth painting her face red.

  It had been five years since I became Gunnar’s, since I came to his village and became his wife. And in that time our lives had changed for the better. We were a family, parents, one solid, strong unit. We were committed to each other, loyal to a fault. I was part of this community, this family. We had two wonderful, healthy children. And although Gunnar went out on raids, leaving me in the village as he went to provide for us, I always knew one thing for certain.

  He'd come back to us.

  I stood and cradled Astrid in my arms and walked back to our home. Gunnar had expanded on his hut, making the structure bigger to house our growing family. It was perfect.

  Once I cleaned off Astrid and laid her on her pallet to nap I started dinner prep. It was these little things, the tasks where I cooked for the man and children I loved, made sure this home was warm and welcoming, and gave them my love, that made me feel complete.

  But even doing all of that I was also strong, a warrior in my own right.

  I knew how to fight, knew how to defend myself and protect my family. Over the years Gunnar had trained me well, and my knowledge of the shield and sword would ensure that no one, beast or man, would harm me, or the ones I held dear again.

  I looked over at the wall where I kept my shield and sword. Every day I trained with Gunnar, even if only for a small amount of time. I didn’t just stay in our home to cook and clean and tend to our children. I needed to be strong, both mentally and physically. Although Gunnar was a warrior, my Viking who would protect us with his last breath, I needed to ensure that I could do the same if need be.

  Once dinner was prepared, Gunnar came inside with our son. I loved having all of us together, even if just to eat. It was moments like this, as I sat at the table and stared at my son, daughter, and my Viking, that I knew there was nothing greater in this world. The gods had blessed me abundantly. Although my life looked dark all those years ago, with my future unknown, it was when Gunnar came in my life that I knew there was light, there was hope.

  It didn’t have to just be about killing in order to survive. It wasn’t just about bloodshed and warfare. It was also about the love of a strong warrior, the warmth your children gave you day in and day out, and the feeling of knowing I would never be a victim again.

  It was all those things that I had in my life now, and it was because of the strength I found in myself to not be afraid anymore, that I prospered ... that I grew to be the woman I was today.

  And it was glorious.

  Gunnar

  I skimmed my fingers over Ingrid’s bare shoulder as I stared at the fire across the room. The flames moved over the logs, crackling, popping, giving an amber glow as they licked at the wood. I listened to the even sounds of her breathing, took comfort in that. I could see my children sleeping across the room, their little bodies covered in animal hides, my love for them undying, unyielding. I moved my hand down her arm and twined my fingers through Ingrid’s. I lifted her hand and stared at our entwined fingers. My skin was scarred, my flesh not smooth, perfect like hers.

  I moved my thumb along the back of her hand, not knowing what I’d done to deserve such a gift from the gods. Ingrid had given me a family, a home. She’d given me love, a reason to breathe. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that. I might be ruthless, a Viking warrior that killed when threatened, that took to provide for his family, but at the end of the day I was just a man who lived for his woman and children.

  I let her hand go and pulled the animal hide over our bodies. I pulled her in close, feeling her slender form mold to my muscular one. I wanted her strong, wanted her to be able to protect herself if someone ever tried to hurt her or our children. I wanted her to be able to take down a savage if—the gods forbid—something were to happen to me. She’d always have the protection of the village, of the other men who lived here, but that didn’t matter. I wanted her to know how to wield a sword, to kill.

  When I closed my eyes all I could feel, smell, and hear was Ingrid. She was perfection, my everything. I felt myself harden against the smooth roundness of her bottom. I pressed my hips forward slightly, holding in my groan, closing my eyes. I wanted her right here and now, and although I knew Ingrid would let me have her, would open up and let me inside because she was ready, primed, I also knew holding her was just as good.

  She shifted and pressed her ass against me and I clenched my teeth, the pleasure shooting up my spine. Ingrid moved her hand behind her and placed it on my hip, her nails digging into my flesh. She wanted me, wanted this. Even after all these years my desire for her was insatiable. No one compared to her. No one ever would.

  I moved my hand across her hip and down her belly. I placed it over the roundness, wanting another child to grow inside of her, want
ing our family to become larger. I kissed her shoulder, her skin smooth, smelling of the dried wildflowers she bathed in.

  “Let’s have another child,” I said softly, whispering against her ear. She shifted on our pallet and faced me, her naked breasts now pressed to my chest. Ingrid lifted her hand and smoothed her fingers through my hair, playing with one of the plaits at my temple.

  She smiled softly, sweetly at me. Without saying anything she leaned in and kissed me. “I want as many children with you as the gods will allow.”

  I pulled her in close and held her, knowing that no matter what happened I was a blessed warrior, and would always cherish each and every day.

  No amount of riches could compare to the life I had.

  Volume Four

  BLACKSMITH (A Real Man, 10)

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  Jenika_Snow@Yahoo.com

  Copyright © February 2017 by Jenika Snow

  First E-book Publication: February 2017

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Line Editor: Lea Ann Schafer

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Steel isn’t the only thing that’s hard.

  Maddie

  Deacon was older than me, but I wanted him regardless. He had this raw edge to him, this primal aura surrounding him that made me feel wholly feminine. He was the epitome of a man…a real man. Even his profession was masculine: a blacksmith. I had no doubt he knew how to work his hands over a woman, how to use them to make her feel the soft and hard sides of him.

  What I wanted was for him to be my first…my only.

  Deacon

  She thought I didn’t see her watching me, that I didn’t know she wanted me.

  I knew, and I wanted her with a fierceness that rivaled anything else.

  What Maddie didn’t know was I’d already claimed her. There was no other woman for me but her. I was a possessive bastard, territorial when it came to her. The time had finally come to make her mine. I’d show her how primal I really was, how rough I liked it, how much I wanted to make her scream my name. I’d show her how a man took care of his woman in all the ways that counted.

  She’d be mine. Only mine.

  Warning: You like your heroes with a touch of caveman? Look no further because Deacon has it going on. He’s all man in the ways that count, and then some. Hold on tight because this story packs a punch, being unbelievable in the best of ways and having insta-everything.

  1

  Maddie

  I had a death grip on my bag, my palms hurting from how strongly I was holding on to the damn strap. But God, I didn’t care. The sight before me had everything else dimming in comparison.

  Deacon McKnight.

  The only reason I knew his name was because I was nosy as hell, asking about him, my fascination like an obsession. We’d never spoken, and to my knowledge he’d never even noticed me.

  But I sure as hell have noticed him.

  If ever there was a person who could be the poster boy for what a real man looked like, Deacon would be front and center.

  The bay doors to his shop were open, and although it wasn’t hot out, I could see sweat covering his hard, muscular form. I swallowed, knowing if anyone were to see me gawking at Deacon, they’d think I had some issues. I didn’t give one shit. Walking by his shop every day on my way to the community college I attended was the highlight of my damn day. The only downside was when I finally pulled myself away from the perfect male specimen that he was, I was breathless, wet, needy, and wishing I had someone to relieve the pent-up arousal that burned in me.

  I want Deacon to be that someone. I want him to show me with those big, strong hands, the ones stained from his work, exactly how he likes it.

  And I bet he liked it rough, bet he could really dominate and control a situation, have a woman begging for more.

  I might be a virgin, might not be experienced in anything more than a hand job and some oral, but God, I wanted to learn a hell of a lot from Deacon. I wanted him to show me how a real man handled a woman.

  Deacon

  I set my hammer on my anvil, wiped my hands on my welding bib, and stared at her. My gaze focused on her ass, those two luscious globes moving just under her jeans as she walked away.

  I might not know her, hadn’t even said one fucking word to her, but none of that mattered.

  She thought I didn’t know she watched me every day. I did.

  She might think I didn’t know she wanted me. I did.

  What she didn’t know was that I wanted her, that I’d claimed her as mine from the moment I saw her. She was young as fuck, probably barely in college, but she’d be mine regardless.

  Only when she’d rounded a corner and I couldn’t see her anymore did I go back to work. I went over to the forge, picked up the tongs, and grabbed the piece of metal out. When I had it on the anvil, I picked up my hammer and went to work creating the custom sword a client had ordered. I didn’t know what the hell someone needed a sword for in this day and age, but I also didn’t ask questions. They paid; I made.

  The bang of my hammer on the metal was a fucking symphony to my ears.

  But I knew hearing her scream my name would be even sweeter.

  I wasn’t going to wait anymore. I’d make her mine, make her see that there would be no other man for her. I’d be the only one who touched her, the only one who knew how she was in bed, bent over a counter, hell, anywhere I saw fit. It would be my cock she felt, my cock she grew addicted to.

  I’d make her never want for anything again, because my need for her—my obsession—went way behind sitting back and hoping fate would drop her in my lap.

  2

  Maddie

  I trudged through the rain, cursing the weather that decided to open up and drench me midway home. The coat I wore wasn’t waterproof, and I was soaked clean through to my skin. A car sped by, of course hitting a puddle, splashing my ass with dirty water. I stopped, turned my head and glared at the vehicle. And because I was pissed already, I lifted my hand and gave them the one-finger salute.

  The sound of a car had me tensing. I expected another shower of grime from the street, but when nothing happened, I turned. A dark SUV sat idling a few feet from me, and I would have been cautious if not for the fact that I saw Deacon was the driver. In that instant nothing else seemed to matter. There was no rain, my clothes weren’t plastered to my skin, and I probably didn’t look like a homeless chick needing a ride.

  All I was focused on was the fact that he watched me, the overcast sky coupled with his headlights partially hiding him. The sound of the passenger window rolling down had me moving toward him. Maybe I should have been cautious. I didn’t know him, not really. Others told me he was a decent man, despite his aloofness, but still I never took the initiative to get to know him.

  I moved closer, still I felt my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I found myself standing by the passenger-side window, water dripping from my hair, probably making the already dark strands look like spilled ink.

  He had one hand on the steering wheel, his body seeming massive in the vehicle. God, he had to be like six foot five, nearing two hundred and fifty pounds. What the hell am I doing, taking his measurements? But it was hard not to notice him. He was just …huge. His expression was neutral, but I could see he was aware of who I was, even though I was sure he’d never even looked my way. It’s not like we talked, ever.

/>   “You’re wet.”

  Yes, yes I am, but not because of the rain.

  My thoughts had my cheeks heating, and the instinct to cover my face, as if he could read my mind, slammed into me. But I kept my hands at my sides, forcing myself to keep eye contact, and when I saw the corner of his mouth lift, I felt my breath stall. His short, dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it, not caring if it was messed up. I wanted to check him out more, simply because it turned me on, but I forced myself not to.

  “You want a ride?”

  When I didn’t answer right away, he lifted a brow.

  “Um,” I said and glanced down at his seat. It was leather, but I’d get it soaked. “Do you normally offer women you don’t know a lift?”

  He smirked, and damn, did it suit him well.

  “I know you rent the old Anderson place, yeah?”

  I smoothed my hands down my soaked leggings. “Yeah.”

  “And you walk by my shop every day,” he said without making it a question.

  I nodded.

  “I’m Deacon and you’re…” The way he said it wasn’t so much of a question, not like it should have been.

  “Maddie.” This weird moment passed between us, and I swear the air got thick, hot.

  “Well, Maddie, if you want a ride, I can take you home. Or you can walk the rest of the way in the rain.” I saw how he eyed me, and I felt this tingling in the most intimate parts of me. “You’re pretty fucking soaked, so I guess it doesn’t matter either way.”

  His coarse language turned me on for some reason. And maybe this was stupid. Maybe getting into a car with a guy I didn’t know, even if he was someone I “knew” and I saw every day. But I found myself pushing all of that to the side. I’d heard enough about Deacon to know he’d lived here a long time, was liked in the community, and although he stayed to himself, he was a decent man.