Viking Wolf

by Angelique Armae

So that’s what he meant when he’d said earlier that he didn’t have heart. “Does it also exist in your wolf?”

  He remained silent.

  She reached for his arm. “Vidar, I need to know or we will have a major problem on our hands way before Uncle Bane returns for New Year’s. He only gave me Wolfsden for one week. A lot can happen in that time.”

  Vidar pushed her boots to the side and then rose. “The darkness is my wolf.” He sat on the edge of the ottoman, the wolf-head embroidered pink socks gracing her small feet looking so out of place against his large, muscular denim-clad legs.

  “How do you shift?”

  “I don’t,” he said.

  All wolves shifted. To go without was defying nature. “You can’t survive without being wolf. At least, not in the long run.”

  He let out a deep breath as his gaze dropped to the floor. “The animal’s soul is frozen in my heart. As I said before, I’m cursed due to the stake used by my uncle. He also bound my shifter soul with a vile hex.”

  Pain sliced her heart. She had been raised by a loving father and a just as loving uncle. All the wolves in her family had shown her nothing but kindness, care, and support. How in the world Vidar’s uncle could do such a thing, angered her. “What if I could help release the curse? It appears stubborn at the moment, but I bet with a really good try, I can get it out of you.”

  He stood. “No. The wolf stays put.”

  “But you must be suffering from it.”

  “The curse stays in place. I will talk of it no more.”

  She’d hit a nerve, exactly what she hadn’t desired to do. But the darkness in Vidar’s body wanted out, despite it being tethered to him and all she wanted to do was help. Maybe it was the curse that kept it in him. That was a definite possibility. But if that was the case, then maybe even a sin-eater like herself couldn’t extract something so solidly bound to its owner.

  The walls of the nook vibrated.

  “Leave it be, Wolfsden.” Vidar’s tone came out harsh, so much so she easily envisioned him on a battlefield, axe in one hand, sword in the other. He must have made for a very daunting opponent during the Viking era. She shuddered to think what atrocities he’d witnessed over his lifetime.

  The castle continued to rumble.

  Leila sat up and slid her legs off the ottoman before standing. “Rest is obviously not what Fate wants me to get today.” She snatched her boots from the floor.

  The sound of a grate crashing down vibrated behind her.

  She spun around.

  A large, wrought-iron grating had dropped down from the top of the archway and now sealed off the nook. “Please tell me there’s a hidden door somewhere.”

  “I’m afraid we’re stuck,” Vidar said.

  Leila stared into the kitchen as she patted her back pocket. “Crap. My phone is upstairs, I left it in my jeans. Give me yours so I can call Bane and have him get us out of here. Surely he can get Wolfsden to cooperate. It’s one thing to be locked in the castle, but I do not want to stay trapped in this small room.”

  Vidar pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t help as my phone is on the desk.”

  “What are we going to do? We certainly can’t stay in here. What if the grate keeps us locked in until New Years? We won’t survive that long.” Panic filled her soul.

  “Wolfsden won’t let us die. Well, I’m sure the castle cares about you, so eventually I think it will let us out. If it was just me in here, probably not.”

  She pivoted and stared at Vidar, who was now leaning against the hearth on the side wall. His hand rested on the mantle, just to the front of a row of photos housed in blue enamel picture frames. “Why did you spend the night here rather than going up to the cabin?”

  He huffed. “I didn’t want to tell you this yesterday, but your uncle invited me over so I could enjoy a week of peace. Alone in his castle while the pack was up at the cabin.”

  She inched back, leaned her spine against the wrought-iron grating. “No. Way.”

  Vidar shook his head. “Yes. Way.”

  “Well, who would have thought Uncle Bane had it in him to play matchmaker.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  She dropped her boots. “Is it really? What other excuse would he have for giving us both the same week at the castle and not telling the other about the arrangements?”

  Vidar hesitated, seemed to be mulling over her words. “I supposed you could be right. Maybe the wolf in Bane did know about the two of us being mates and so he decided to push destiny along a bit. I can pick up your scent and I’m not a MacHendrie. Bane must have known there is a link between us. I also think my sister might have been in on it, but I’m not positive.”

  He took two steps in Leila’s direction. “You smell of fresh cut roses and strawberries.”

  And another two. “And you’ve already asked about my scent, so I know since you are a MacHendrie by blood, you know I’m your mate. Most likely that is why I am aware of your scent as well, despite being Viking.” He stopped in front of her, the cold coming off his chest seeping past the cotton of her checkered blouse. “We’ve been had, Miss MacHendrie. Had by your uncle and by his damn castle of a home. And probably also by Katya.”

  “If it did happen that way,” Leila said. “I’m sure Bane only did it because he thought it was the right thing to do. Same with your sister. Or maybe my uncle just made a mistake and didn’t want to disappoint either of us, so said nothing. Figured we could get along and both could have a quiet vacation.”

  “Bane is not the sort to do something by mistake. The man rarely errs in judgement. He’s the most powerful alpha in all of Scotland, maybe the world. He certainly knew how to best this lone warrior.”

  Realization settled in her mind. “He was quite insistent with me. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She bit her bottom lip.

  “Nor from me. He had me to the point of actually feeling guilty when I first turned down his generous offer of a week’s stay at Wolfsden. A week entirely to myself. And I don’t feel guilt over anything. I learned to turn that emotion off after my uncle Rorik tossed me onto a battlefield at the tender age of eight. I woke a child that day, but I went to bed a life slayer. Under Rorik’s tutelage I learned nothing matters but survival. Not guilt, not pain, not even love. But Bane, for that one moment last month, made me think I still had a dose of humanity left in me. Now I know he had other motives, I know that me feeling guilt was a mistake. A slip on my part.” Vidar glared at her. A cold, chilling stare.

  Leila leaned against the iron grate. She placed her left hand on Vidar’s chest. “But you do still have goodness left in you. I can feel it. And that has nothing to do with the fact that Uncle Bane may or may not have set us up.”

  A growl rose in his throat.

  “You can growl but you can’t shift?”

  He nodded. “I can do many things that are related to my wolf, but shifting is something I won’t do.”

  She didn’t understand. How could Vidar live strictly as human when his soul was also part wolf? “What would happen if you shifted?”

  “I only know what my uncle claimed would happen. And I don’t care to test the man’s words.”

  “But your animal can’t remain bottled up forever.”

  “He was doing quite well until you came along.”

  “What does that mean?” She glided her fingers across his t-shirt, focused on the heat stemming from her hand, slowly working its way into Vidar’s heart.

  A low vibration thrummed beneath her palm.

  Vidar didn’t answer. A second growl sounded from within him, but this time with an edginess that bordered on anger. “Pull your hand away.”

  She kept her fingers flat at his chest.

  His gaze grew dark, shrouded with a ferocity she’d never witnessed before, reminded her of a caged beast longing to be free.

  Leila pressed her hand closer.

  “Don’t.”

  “If you want me off you, then you do it.”
>
  With lightning speed Vidar grabbed her wrist, pulled her fingers from his chest.

  A shock of molten energy scorched her arm, sent a fiery burn coursing through her veins until it settled in the deepest depths of her core and instantly cooled off.

  Vidar’s eye color shifted. The once brilliant hue now grew dark, teetered on the edge of a magnificent midnight blue. He leaned forward and brought his lips to hers. And it wasn’t a simple, yet deep kiss, like the one he’d given her in the kitchen earlier. This was a full out assault on her mouth.

  And she welcomed every second of it.

  Chapter Seven

  Of all the wicked things for him to have gone and done, kissing Leila a second time had to be the most sinful. Probably the costliest, too, because the strength to let her go had just gone the wayside, along with whatever miniscule chances he’d had left of getting into Valhalla.

  The lure of this feisty female MacHendrie was far too strong for his own good. And despite knowing that her line of wolves had the ability of recognizing and being instantly attracted to their mates once they’d met, he was Viking. Immediate and insane attraction wasn’t in his DNA.

  Maybe he had been spending too much time with the MacHendries, because falling in love certainly was not what he had envisioned happening during his week at Wolfsden. This was supposed to be his time, seven glorious days to sort himself out.

  And here he was, more confused than ever.

  Damn him to hell. Again.

  Taking a mate was not supposed to be part of his future. Though now he was starting to think it was and that meant he’d better find a way around his vile hex.

  He wanted Leila.

  And he was going to have her. She had no clue what she’d started with her innocent swat of him with that stupid rubber spatula. From this point out, he was going to have be a heck of a lot more careful when it came to cooking and spending time in the kitchen.

  Wrapping his free arm around Leila’s waist, Vidar settled his hand at the small of her back.

  A protective need engulfed him.

  Odin, all mighty. There was no hope for him. No fuckin’ hope at all.

  A growl rose in his throat.

  Choke it. He hadn’t the need to talk directly to his wolf in years.

  The animal grunted back.

  Testy little bastard.

  If only Leila had kept her hands to herself, then he wouldn’t be dealing with a roused wolf entombed in his heart. A dormant one was far easier to live with. The beast’s desire to hunt for a human soul, even while it lay sleeping in his heart, was a craving he fought daily. And God forbid, but if his wolf found a way to separate from his body, it would seek a mortal soul on which to feast.

  Leila was not going to be that meal.

  She twisted her wrist against his grip.

  He held steady. No way was she getting her hands anywhere near his wolf again.

  She moaned.

  His jeans grew tight.

  This was not good. Not in the least.

  Leila deepened their kiss.

  Screw Valhalla.

  The sweet flavor of honey, far more heightened then what any mortal should be capable of savoring, and far more intense than what he’d sampled at breakfast, pummeled his taste buds.

  Crap.

  Only an animal’s senses could be so heightened. He was falling to his wolf’s control and doing so a hell of a lot faster than he’d thought possible. A bit more freedom and the beast would overtake him completely. And damn it, but he was not going to make love to Leila with that creature along for the ride.

  Never.

  His wolf needed to be refrozen.

  Maybe his sexy sin-eater had a way to undo his heart’s thawing. Though blurting out such a request wasn’t going to be easy because hurting Leila’s feelings was the last thing he desired. But if he didn’t get that animal back to its state of hibernation, the beast would destroy them both.

  A whimper escaped Leila’s lush mouth.

  Asking now probably wasn’t the best timing.

  He pulled back and went for her neck, nipped a section of smooth porcelain flesh just below Leila’s earlobe. Thank the gods this part of her didn’t taste of honey or he’d really be doomed. His cursed wolf craved the sweet treat.

  Visions of Leila in his bed, legs spread, a small dab of honey slowly sliding down her mound, filled his thoughts.

  The woman deserved better than to get saddled with a shifter whose supernatural side had been locked up ten centuries ago. Yet still, he couldn’t tear himself away.

  He ran his tongue over her jugular.

  “Oh…”, she said.

  So much for proving he wasn’t good for her. He lifted his head. “You’re not helping.”

  “Helping with what?”

  “Never mind. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Leila gave him a serious stare. “I don’t think we have a choice at this point. At least I don’t think I do. While I thank God I am not wolf, I am still a preternatural being. And that means I feel more than the average mortal. A heck of a lot more. About everything. My desires are…well…let’s just say they’re not what I’d consider normal.”

  Neither were his, especially the part about his wolf wanting to take a bite out of Leila’s neck. Though telling her that would probably ruin the mood. “If we do this, there won’t be any going back. I’m wolf. Despite my curse. And wolves mate for life.”

  “I’m more than aware of that. Just because I’m not a shifter, doesn’t mean I’m not a full-fledged member of my uncle’s pack. The wolf way is nothing new to me. It’s part of who I am, even without having the animal in my soul.”

  If only he knew for sure that taking Leila as his mate was the right thing to do. For her.

  He let out a deep breath. This decision was even harder than any he had to make when leading his men in to battle. Who thought a woman could cause so much confusion?

  Visions of the pixie mobile fluttered through his head.

  It would be nice to have a reason to have one of those stupid things in his life.

  But he didn’t deserve that such bliss.

  No. He couldn’t get caught up in thinking he had the right to have a mate and a family. He was cursed and justly so.

  And that was exactly where he needed to stay.

  As if she’d read his mind, Leila glided her left hand up his arm, her light touch teasing his every nerve, coaxing him to just accept whatever the hell this was that was developing between them.

  Damn, but he could get used to having the woman in his life.

  A knot formed in his chest. Like a petulant child angry at failing to get his way, Vidar’s wolf grunted again.

  The woman is not mine.

  The beast shifted, kicked its hind feet against his bones.

  Just his luck to have a smarter-than-genius wolf. I should have left you to rot.

  Another kick came.

  I won’t let you have her.

  A third punch, far stronger than the last two, rocked his ribs.

  He refused to double over. Whatever pain Rorik’s curse wanted his wolf to dish out, he would take it. Bruises and aches were a small price to pay to keep Leila safe.

  Damn emotions.

  He should have just gotten up this morning and insisted on spending the week with the family up at the cabin, not that that would have worked if his suspicions proved true and Bane was behind this whole set up. But why would the alpha put his niece in danger? Maybe the man hadn’t realized the severity of the situation. It’s not like he talked much about his curse. Even Katya didn’t know the full story for centuries, and no one was closer to him than was his sister.

  Stupid man. He really should have found someone who could release his curse long before now. These sudden feelings for Leila didn’t fit into his world and while he knew damn well this was not something he should desire, he didn’t step away.

  His hold on Leila’s right wrist tightened.

  She arched
her back and pressed closer to him, the tips of her pert breasts straining against her cotton shirt.

  His breath hitched.

  Essence of strawberry filled the small room. He’d never known anything as sweet as Leila’s scent.

  Pain, like the sharp blade of an axe taken to a bed of ice, chopped through Vidar’s heart.

  Thoughts of the past slammed his mind—the good life, the days before Rorik skewered his view of the world, moments when he was one with his wolf before being cursed. Even that damn night, exactly twenty-eight years ago, when he’d dreamt that the beast in his heart had been freed of its hex. The only night he’d dreamt of taking a woman and making her his for all eternity. But none of that was reality and thanks to his damn curse, that dream could never be made real. Desires for a mate needed to remain in the deepest depths of his heart or he’d unleash a beast destined to kill.

  And setting his wolf on Leila was not going to happen.

  Damn you, Rorik. If only his agony had ended with his uncle’s death, but the man’s antagonistic force continued to thrive. Maybe peace just wasn’t meant to be his.

  “Take me, Vidar,” Leila said, disrupting his thoughts.

  He had no right leading her on like this. Not even in a playful way, as he’d never been anything but a brooding, serious soul since that day when he was eight and forced onto the battlefield. Leila deserved better.

  Vidar inched back, his hold on Leila’s arm, loosening. This was not good for either of them. He could never give her the love a proper mate should have, and it had nothing to do with what he wanted. His wolf was too much of a threat to her.

  Leila didn’t seem to agree. She pulled her hand free of his now light grasp and placed both her palms over his heart.

  Letting go of her arm was a mistake.

  A jolt of heat shot through his body, shocked the wolf embedded within his chest.

  He stared at Leila, his gaze delving into those gorgeous brown eyes of hers. Then he growled. “Don’t do this.”

  “You make it sound as if I have a choice,” she said. “Letting you suffer when I know I can help, isn’t something I’m willing to do.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Not as dangerous as leaving that beast coiled up in your heart. Trust me on that. I’ve seen what that kind of pain can do to a soul and it never results in anything good.”