Viking King's Vendetta (Viking Ancestors: Rise of the Dragon Book 1)

by Sky Purington

  This very room.

  “You haven’t been back here since...”

  She trailed off, not needing to finish her sentence.

  “No, I haven’t,” he said softly, his eyes on her lips as he remembered the all-too-brief kiss they had shared that day. “This place isn’t mine unless you’re here...no place is.”

  “I get it,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. Her eyes flickered from his lips back to her mug as she shoved a hand into her pocket.

  “How is Fenrir?” he asked, well aware she was clutching the little wooden wolf he had made for her.

  “As you know, a lifesaver.” She shook her head. “I owe him a big thanks. Though I imagine it’ll be a little while before I see him again. He had to use a tremendous amount of power to get me out of there.”

  “Thank the gods he did.” Troubled, he leaned across the table and took her free hand, grateful she was here. “Thank the gods you’re safe.”

  “Sven,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and yanked her hand away.

  Though momentarily injured by her response, seconds later he understood it when her unique scent hit him.

  Arousal.

  He had smelled it before, those last few months before she left, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t so strong. His dragon responded instantly, and he bit back a growl, his vision hazing red. In direct response, her eyes shot open.

  Pale blue dragon eyes.

  The palest they had ever been.

  “Sven, Emily, might we come in?” came Elder Naðr’s voice in their minds. “Something’s happened.”

  “In a moment,” he managed. Even his inner voice was hard to maintain right now.

  Emily squeezed her eyes shut again and pressed against her temples as though that might help squelch the roaring chemistry between them.

  “Are you...all set,” he finally asked her once he had himself under control. He no longer smelled her scent, so figured she was all right.

  “You know I am,” she said through clenched teeth before she inhaled deeply and didn’t look his way when she opened her eyes.

  “Come in,” he called out as he stood and poured two more mugs of ale.

  Naðr and Megan were clearly aware of their situation based on the way Megan looked back and forth between them before thanking Sven for her ale. He also noticed they appeared even more distressed than before.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “Dragon tattoos are starting to appear,” Naðr replied grimly, “on your brother and cousins. The ones we’re in touch with anyway.” He shook his head. “Not on your female kin though.”

  He frowned. “And what do you make of that?”

  “Nothing good,” Naðr grunted and shook his head. “Håkon believes he has been marked by something dark. That the artwork is sinister and trying to shackle him down somehow.”

  “Is he okay?” Emily shot to her feet. “I’m going to check on him.”

  “Wait.” Sven grabbed her arm in passing. “Let’s get all the facts before barreling off.” His eyes met hers. “If he were in dire trouble, we would know it.”

  “Would we?” She pulled her arm away, frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Because I didn’t know a foreign mark appeared on his body, did you?”

  “Emily,” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Don’t Emily me.” She scowled and headed off, throwing over her shoulder. “That’ll be the day you try to keep me from checking on my family, Sven. You’re not in charge anymore...of me anyway!”

  As if he ever had been. He sighed and polished off his ale, ignoring the sympathetic yet slightly amused look Megan gave him.

  “Håkon is fine,” Naðr went on. “Just...unusually restless all of a sudden.”

  That didn’t sound promising. Like Sven, Håkon was typically calm in the face of adversity. Sven’s brother, Davyn, was not, so it came as no surprise when he strode in unannounced with a mad scowl on his face.

  “Has everyone made it here safely from the Keep, Brother?” Sven asked. Until they knew what was going on, the majority of Bjorn’s kingdom was coming here so that the Sigdirs and their dragons could better protect them. Due to space limitations, the elderly and children would be housed within the gates and those strong enough to fight just beyond the walls.

  “We have to head north,” Davyn groused in response, pouring himself some ale using Sven’s mug. “That’s where the trouble is.” He gestured at the black dragon on his upper arm. “That’s where this originated.”

  He gripped Davyn’s arm and eyed the tattoo, uneasy. Like Emily, he didn’t like the idea of it claiming his kin. Interesting how that word came to mind. Håkon was right. The unwanted mark had a strange feeling about it.

  “Touch it, Sven,” Emily said into his mind, though it was meant for everyone to hear. “Touch it while I’m touching Håkon’s. I need to know if you see the same thing I do.”

  When he did, a huge ash tree arose in his mind’s eye. Not the one in Winter Harbor but another. One far different than the first. Far more evil. Close to the shore, it grew at the base of a cliff with a waterfall. Its branches and leaves were afire and its trunk oily and black as night. Steam and fog drifted around it as icy water hissed and sizzled when it came in contact with the flames.

  “The waterfall and ocean are protection,” he murmured, chilled by the shadowed figures swimming in the ground at its roots. Beasts eager to break free. Dragons the likes of which he had never seen before.

  “We need to go there, Sven,” Emily said. “It’s the only way we’re going to be able to understand what’s going on.”

  Emily had always been the more powerful of the two of them, so he trusted her assessment. Yet on that note, while he understood why their people might want him to rule both regions being the oldest of his lot, was he the best choice to get to the root of this prophecy? As it were, some of his kin were far more powerful.

  “I’m going,” Emily stated bluntly.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve discussed this with everyone,” he replied. “It’s far too dangerous to rush into things until we know what we’re facing.”

  “The whole point of going is to find out what we’re facing,” she reminded as she and Håkon joined them. She arched a brow at Sven, her tone not quite to his liking. “I would think as king getting to the root of what threatens your people would be high on your list of priorities.”

  “I am not king,” he countered. “We’ve yet to hold council on that.”

  Even if he were to become king, it was only temporary. Only until their rightful kings had returned.

  Naðr sighed and glanced between them before he looked at Megan and shook his head. She, in turn, stepped in because it was clear the former Viking King was exasperated by their behavior.

  “We’re going to the shore to establish who will rule now.” Megan’s voice was firm as she looked at Sven. “King or not, go where you must. Sometimes being with your people doesn’t ensure their safety.” Then her eyes went to Emily. “And supporting not just your friend but your king with gentle yet wise suggestions rather than guilt trips and sarcasm is always a better choice, yes?”

  Knowing better than to defy Megan, Emily merely nodded and looked anywhere but at him. At least for a moment or two until her eyes shot to his in alarm almost the second he felt a searing brand on his upper arm. When he pulled up his sleeve, he discovered a tattoo of two black dragons facing one another with a sword between them.

  “It’s us,” Emily whispered, staring at it.

  “Yes,” he murmured, sure of it. More than that, alarmed by it. Because the sword dividing them seemed almost more sinister than Davyn or Håkon’s tattoos. It seemed determined to keep them apart.

  “Because it is,” Elder Naðr murmured, following his thoughts. “Whatever evil is at work sees you and Emily as a threat.” He gripped Sven’s shoulder and met his eyes. “Which means you must go and find out what is at the root of this. You must end it before it ends you
r people.”

  Chapter Six

  THE SENSATION EMILY felt when that tattoo appeared on Sven’s arm was indescribable. Terrifying and enraging while at the same time deeply threatening in a way that had her inner dragon in an uproar.

  He didn’t seem overly phased by it, but then Sven by nature wasn’t one to overreact. He would give this a great deal of thought. Then and only then, would he share his conclusions. Lucky for her she could read his mind. Most of the time. Which unfortunately did her no good right now considering the only thing he was focused on was their people. How he intended to humor their decision, but in no way, shape or form did he consider himself their true king.

  “Then you wish Sven Sigdir, Son of Bjorn and Samantha Sigdir to rule in the absence of King Heidrek and King Bjorn?” Elder Naðr roared as his eyes swept over their surroundings. People from both regions had gathered at the oceanfront. “It is unanimous, and it's with the certain knowledge that he must soon leave to search out the root of the prophecy that now plagues us all?”

  Everyone agreed far and wide, lending ample credence to the sort of man Sven had become. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the strongest dragon, he was greatly respected and trusted. No matter what the circumstance, he had always put both his father’s and Heidrek’s people before all else.

  Her eyes drifted to the docks. To the countless Viking ships that had been here for as long as she could remember. She had shared so many memories with Sven on those boats whether sailing, raiding or just fishing. It was good to be back. Good to be with her loved ones again.

  “I’m going with you, Em,” Håkon announced as he joined her. “So is Davyn.”

  That was no surprise, and she was glad for it. She was always stronger with Håkon around, and Davyn was one of her favorite cousins. The four of them were the oldest of the lot. Well, by far her, Håkon and Sven, but Davyn tended to hang around them, claiming he had been born months before the others, so that set him apart. If nothing else, his attitude was a source of amusement. But then, in his defense, the four he referred to literally had their hearts beat for the first time within their mother’s wombs at precisely the same moment.

  So Davyn was set apart in his own way. As had been his twin sister who died before she had a chance to be born.

  “Sven will want to leave soon.” She eyed the darkening skies. “He’ll want to find shelter in the mountains for the night.”

  Håkon nodded. “Naturally.”

  Emily quirked the corner of her mouth. “You know Sven.”

  Not only would he take protecting his people very seriously, but it was a chance to be nature-bound.

  “I give him one hour max before we’re heading out,” she said, challenging Håkon to a bet just like old times.

  He snorted and cast her a sidelong glance. “New evil on the horizon aside, based on what I’m sensing between you two, I give him half that time. He’s restless and needs to keep moving.”

  “We’re fine,” she assured. “We just need to get used to being around each other again is all.”

  Håkon chuckled and cast her a knowing look. “At the very least.” Then he added because he likely couldn’t help himself. “And it’s about damn time too if you ask me.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” she muttered, ignoring his innuendo.

  “Then ask anyone in the whole of Scandinavia, and they’ll agree.”

  “So what’re we betting?” she said, trying to change the subject as she shot him a curious look. “Catching each other the choicest game for a week?” Her eyes widened in delight as she gave it more thought. “Or maybe a good dragon battle where you let me kick your butt.”

  She had yet to best him unless he let her. Very frustrating.

  “Not going to happen.” Then he pondered. “But if you win, I will catch all your food for a week.” His grin turned into a smile. “I’m a great hunter so you’ll be enjoying the best.”

  He really was.

  “And if you win?” she asked.

  “Hmm.” His eyes went from Sven to her. “Then you give him a real kiss this time.”

  Hell. She narrowed her eyes. “How’d you know about the first one?”

  He kept with that damn grin of his. “We all know.”

  “Dragons,” she muttered and shook her head.

  “Dragons who care about you both,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, “and want to see you happy at last.”

  “Like we’ve been in misery all this time.” She rolled her eyes. “Not sure if you’ve noticed but Sven and I are good friends, and we couldn’t be happier.”

  “Liar,” Håkon said softly. “So do we have a bet?”

  “No.”

  “Come on.” He squeezed her shoulder. “For me because you’ve been gone so long and left me without my other half.”

  “Oh please.”

  “Exactly.” He gave her the puppy dog eyes she couldn’t refuse. “Please. For me.”

  “We’re not kids anymore, Håkon.” She shook her head. “So no, I’m not gonna kiss Sven on a bet.”

  Yet he knew full well that, just like when they were kids, once the challenge had been laid, neither backed down.

  “I see Helga’s pregnant,” she remarked, changing the subject yet again as her eyes went to a pretty woman eying Håkon. “Is it yours?”

  She knew he wasn’t in a relationship with the woman, but that meant nothing. Not when it came to her kin. They were a lustier lot than most.

  He shook his head, grinned and winked at Helga. “Loki’s balls, Sister, you know better than to ask me that.”

  Right, because dragons could control whether they impregnated humans. Still. “Well, I don’t know what I missed while I was gone and based on the way she’s looking at you, who knows.”

  Now it was his turn to offer a crooked grin. “She looks at all dragons that way.”

  “There is that,” she agreed, well aware that more than a few village women specifically went after male dragons. Then, of course, there were the human guys that liked their female dragons. Then there were those who weren’t picky about gender.

  “I see you’re still more than favored by your fair share of human men around here, Em,” Davyn remarked as he joined them, evidently well aware of their conversation. “I would think that alone will ensure Håkon’s bet won.”

  Like all the Sigdir men, Davyn was tall, broad and ridiculously handsome. Nowadays, he wore a beard that only seemed to magnify his pale hazel eyes even more. Not to mention, he’d added more tattoos that ran down his left arm in a colorful array.

  “You two better have shut off your minds to Sven,” she muttered, well aware that Davyn was implying Sven’s jealousy would get the better of him, and that was why they would clear out of here so fast. She knew better though. Sven didn’t run jealous. Not that she knew of anyway. “And we’re down to twenty-eight minutes if Håkon hopes to win.”

  Her brother grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem like Sven’s in any rush,” she mentioned, meeting Håkon’s grin. “And the gods know, I’ll figure out a way to slow him down so that I win.”

  Davyn grinned right alongside them. “Back to talk of kissing then?”

  Again, detouring the subject, she glanced from the pregnant girl to him. “Was that you then?”

  He kept grinning and shrugged before he clapped Håkon on the shoulder and sauntered off in the woman’s direction. Håkon chuckled and shrugged as well when she looked at him in question. “You know you won’t get anything out of Davyn. He likes a little mystery.”

  Did he ever. She couldn’t imagine him ever settling down with one woman. He would get bored within days. Yet he might have no choice soon.

  Speaking of that.

  “So I noticed you guys haven’t asked me about Sage and her sisters.” She eyed her brother curiously, truly wondering how her male kin were going to handle this. “I can’t imagine this situation being
any different than what our parents and aunts and uncles experienced.”

  “We’ll see.” He shrugged again, acting indifferent. “I’m sure if they’re our dragon mates, things will be what they’ll be.”

  Bull. Deep down, she expected he was more excited than anything. His biological mother had died when he was young, and things had been rough for him until Emily’s mother, Shannon came along and mated with his father. She had made all the difference in his life, and he was thankful. More than that, he liked the idea of finding a dragon mate from the twenty-first century like his father had.

  Her eyes drifted to his abdomen, as she remembered all too well the dragon tattoo there. “Sage and her sisters might be dragon mates somehow connected with that.”

  “Not somehow, Granddaughter,” Veronica said as she and Raknar joined them. “But most certainly.”

  Emily embraced them, glad to see they were doing well. Though biologically Håkon’s grandparents, they had long ago adopted her as their grandchild as well. As seemed to be the way with aging dragons in their tribe, both looked remarkable considering they were as old as Naðr and Megan. Veronica was Megan’s sister and also from the twenty-first century. In fact, Sage and her sisters would be the third generation to travel back.

  “You sound convinced, Grandmother.” Håkon perked his brows at Veronica. “Have you learned something new?”

  “Yes, from the seers on Mt. Galdhøpiggen,” she replied. “There is great unrest amongst them. They claim Níðhöggr’s descendants are being summoned to war and that they must find their mates if there is any hope at all.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean—” Håkon began before Raknar cut him off with a you-better-accept-this-sooner-rather-than-later look.

  “You’ve been marked by Níðhöggr’s mortal enemy, Grandson.” He shook his head, his expression stern though any dragon in the immediate vicinity could sense his grave concern. “The seers believe they will try to intercept and perhaps recruit you before you mate with one of Níðhöggr’s descendants. For if you do, you become much more of a threat.”