Vikings Unleashed: 9 modern Viking erotic romances

by Kate Pearce

  It was hit or miss with regular folks. Some he could hear, and the thoughts of others were blessedly shut off to him.

  It was hard enough coming up through foster care and grasping at stability, so he kept his mouth shut, lest he get shipped off to the next place.

  When it was his turn to be found—when Muriel sent Joe and Jody out to find “the stolen”—he’d cried with relief. He could hear them in his head as they’d approached him at a coffee shop near where he worked in downtown Charlotte. Not only could he hear them, but they could also hear each other. They talked back and forth, and they noticed that he noticed.

  Although far from normal, his life made so much more sense now than it had before they made that coffee shop introduction.

  He wasn’t a freak, though he was still an orphan.

  Like Tess, his parents were dead.

  Tess. His Tess, the queen of them all. He could hardly believe it, and with Tess being Tess, knew she wasn’t going to easily adjust. Muriel had said that Afótama didn’t like being solitary, but Tess always had been.

  He worried she’d run from them.

  From him.

  One side of the double-doors swung open, and Tess stepped into the nearly dark room, sighing. She closed the door and put her forehead against it.

  He knew he should leave her to her thoughts so she could process it all, but he couldn’t. He’d meant what he said to Muriel about his intentions. If Tess would have him, he’d be her consort. Her lover, eventually.

  He’d also meant it when he said he hadn’t planned on claiming her. There were plenty of men who’d been born into this world who could guide her so much better than he could, for they already knew the strictures and politics. He’d be the blind leading the blind, and thus was willing to get out of the way for someone more deserving.

  But then he saw her.

  After all those years, he still wanted her, and it wasn’t because she would be queen. He couldn’t give a shit about the power, and if she were anything like Muriel, she’d be fearsome when she came into it. He didn’t care about status and the wealth she’d inherit.

  All he cared about was Tess, and the thought of seeing her hand in some other man’s and her affection belonging to someone else made him want to bellow and rage. She wouldn’t be allowed to remain unattached for long. As future queen, and a woman of a certain age, she was vulnerable while unmated. At least, that’s what everyone said. Afótama paired off while young, because having a mate bond made their mental shields stronger. It sounded like fairy tale shit, but it was really just a matter of hormones.

  “Fuck,” Tess whispered against the door, and she banged her forehead against it a few times.

  “Tess, I’m here,” he said softly so as not to scare her. “On the bed.”

  She ran to him, tears streaming down her face, and he welcomed her into his arms.

  Her heaving sobs against his chest broke his heart, and he didn’t even know what was wrong. Seeing her—a woman who as a matter of course never cried—weep and moan rocked him to his very core. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

  Hurt whomever had wronged her.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did someone offend you? Nadia maybe?”

  It was probable. Nadia didn’t hash her words. She was a damned good friend to have, but she wasn’t a patient woman when it came to duty. She knew hers, and assumed that everyone else should know theirs and be competent in doing them.

  She was unmated for a reason.

  “No, I haven’t seen Nadia since we got here,” she said between sniffles. “My grandmother—she…”

  “What?”

  “She told me what I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do, and I told her I’d try.”

  “That’s wonderful news, so what’s bothering you?”

  “I was fine until I realized that everything I do from here on out will be in front of an audience. People are waiting for me to fail, and I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve got a new name and family all of a sudden, and all these people want to hug me, and I…” Her voice careened to an incomprehensible pitch.

  Shit.

  He couldn’t even lie and tell her that it wouldn’t be that bad because he didn’t know. It was true that from here on out, she’d be carefully watched. She’d be living life under a microscope and having every decision she made questioned and intensely scrutinized. She was expected to be one part monarch, one part politician, and one part Mother Theresa. She would fail on occasion. Everyone failed. But, like Muriel, she’d have to be able to assure them all that in spite of the missteps, everything would be okay.

  Muriel was so maternal and had such a big heart that she kept their grumbling to a minimum. They could all feel her warmth and strength, though on some days, they also felt the frayed edges. She was trying too hard to hold it together, but it wasn’t supposed to be her job anymore. It was a job meant for twenty years at the most, and she’d been doing two jobs in that period.

  “I’ll help you all I can, Tess.” He lifted the bottom of her shirt and pressed his palm to the small of her back. That bit of warmth from skin to skin contact calmed him the way it did for all their people, but he couldn’t say if did the same for Tess.

  She wasn’t online. He didn’t know when she’d be online, if ever. Maybe it was something that would happen automatically when she took over her grandmother’s role.

  “It means a lot,” she said, still sniffling. “Did you know about the ball, the big party?”

  “Yeah, the people expect you to have a coming out since you’ve been missing for so long. They want a chance to meet you. Touch you.”

  The touch was important. They’d all want a chance to make that small connection, because once you touched one of Ótama’s people, you became a part of their mind-to-mind network. They’d always be able to reach out to you. It was like programming numbers one by one into a cell phone. At first, Tess would ride on her grandmother’s network, but it wouldn’t be as strong as if it were her own.

  “It’s all set to go forward pending the results of a DNA test. She said the people insisted on the test, and that if she could get away with it, she’d forego it. She seems to be very confident of what the results will be.”

  “And don’t you? I think you already know how they’ll turn out.”

  “There’s wishful thinking, and then there’s optimism. I think I fall into the first category.”

  “Which part are you wishing for?”

  “The family part. Can you believe it? Brothers and an uncle and a grandmother? That’s a huge family in my book.”

  “It is. I’m on my own.”

  She pulled away from him and dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “No.”

  Typical Tess, forgetting to feel sorry for herself because she thought someone else needed the pity more. He nodded. “Just me. That’s why I was so easy to abduct. I was living with an elderly great aunt, and I got stolen when she took me to get a check-up. The nurse took me out to weigh me, is what she thought, and then I didn’t get taken back to her.”

  “Unbelievable.” She sniffled. “My grandmother says finding out why we were taken and who took us will be one of my jobs. There’s a long list of kids who are still missing, and people still call her for updates. Even the ones who don’t live here.”

  He nodded. “It’s a big job, but it’s just one of many. Very little is simple about what she does.”

  “And yet I’m supposed to do this? Me?” She laughed, and it was half crazed, half amused. “I can hardly manage to pay rent on time.”

  “You’re born to do it, sweetheart. And you’ll never have to worry about rent again.”

  He laid a kiss on her forehead that was meant to be chaste. Comforting. But then she looked up at him, and there was so much trust in her eyes that it nearly undid him. Trust was a gift to a man like him. He knew how hard it was to give, and would do his best not to abuse it.

  Holding her chin up, he kissed her again on the forehead.
Then her cheek. Finally, her lips. It was a slight touch, really, because it wasn’t his intention to take advantage—to overwhelm her.

  He could do that easy, as that was his proclivity. He could have her dazed and panting beneath her, unsure of whether she was coming or going, but enjoying the ride all the same.

  He could have her on her knees, begging for him, abased for him, and he’d know the thrill of mastering her.

  But Tess would be queen. He couldn’t tell the queen to kneel down for him, no matter how submissive she was.

  No matter how much she needed it.

  It was her who leaned in and increased the press of their lips.

  He was fine with letting her take the lead on this because she was so confused at everything that was happening and was likely looking for comfort wherever she could find it.

  He was fine with being her comfort for the moment. Right now, he couldn’t push her. She could take what she needed from him, and he wouldn’t be aggressive by giving her more than she wanted.

  Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened for her, letting her in to explore his mouth.

  When he didn’t respond beyond that, she grabbed his hair and pulled. “Kiss me back!”

  “Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.”

  “Maybe I want that.”

  “I don’t want maybe. I want a clear yes.”

  “You want me to beg?”

  “I want you to ask for it and know why you’re asking for it.”

  She let out a little breath, and her forehead furrowed. “I thought you wanted me. You told my grandmother—”

  He pushed two fingers into her mouth and stilled her tongue. “Shhh.”

  Stunned, she blinked at him.

  “Are you going to hush?”

  She gave her head a small shake.

  He pulled his fingers almost all the way out and slid them back in before she could clamp her lips shut.

  One day soon, it’d be his cock stealing her words, and not just his fingers. Right on cue, his dick twitched. Gods, how hot would she be on her knees wearing nothing but that skimpy bra and staring up at him with those big hazel eyes?

  “Are you going to hush?” he repeated.

  She nodded, and he slipped his fingers out, only to press one against her lips. “We’re dancing around all sorts of rules and traditions, some of which you know and I don’t, and then vice versa. If we have sex, Tess, no matter what we tell ourselves, it won’t be casual. We don’t know the consequences of it, and how it’ll change our relationship. So, I’m not going to have sex with you just because you’re scared.”

  He dropped his hand so she could speak.

  “I understand that,” she said.

  “Whatever happens, we can’t undo it.”

  “I may not have gone to college like you, but I can understand simple statements just fine.”

  Given that tone of voice, he was pretty sure he’d squashed any chance he’d had to make love to her, anyway.

  He ground the heels of his palms against his closed eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve gotten used to doubly verifying things since rejoining the group. Miscommunications can get you in a lot of trouble.”

  “I forgive you, and I did not misunderstand you.”

  “Yeah?” He worked his shirt’s top button free, followed by the next one, all the while keeping his eyes on her. He kept unfastening, and he was nearly at his waist by the time she looked down. He yanked the tails free and pushed the shirt down his arms. Normally, he would have hung it up to save himself—or his dry cleaner—from having to work so hard to iron it, but who cared? Wrinkles were the least of his concerns, given the mascara and eye shadow streaks across the front. The woman wore way too much fucking makeup to work. It made her look far older than she actually was.

  Maybe that was intentional, though. Dirty old pervs tended to like their pieces of ass on the young side.

  He dropped the shirt on the floor and worked his undershirt free of his pants next.

  “You need to take off your clothes, Tess, unless you’d like to call Nadia in and have her start her official duties by undressing you.”

  With her gaze still pinned to him—now at his hands as he loosened his belt buckle—her fingers fumbled at her shirt hem.

  He didn’t slow for her. He stood, nudged off his shoes, and pushed his slacks down.

  Tess stopped fumbling, and now just stared open-mouthed.

  He didn’t bother suppressing his grin. She’d asked for it, so she was going to get it.

  He stepped out of his pants and folded them over the nearby chair back. He sat in that chair to roll off his socks, and then sat, forearms to thighs and fingers tented, staring at her.

  She moved quickly now, pulling her inadequate shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor. Standing, she reached under her skirt and pulled at her fishnets.

  They made her legs look damned sexy, and had he had time to play, he would have had her keep them on. A little rip at the seat, and he’d have all the access he’d need to fuck or just tease.

  He didn’t wait for her to drop her skirt, though he could hear the fabric rustling as he walked away from the bed. She should be nearly naked by the time he returned, and if not, he’d see to it himself.

  He locked both doors—one lock at the top, and the other at the knob—and pulled the knobs to make sure they were secure. He wouldn’t have anyone walking in on them, because if this were going to be anything like he’d heard, they wouldn’t want to be interrupted. They didn’t need some staff member walking in on them and imprinting to memory the sight of his naked ass while he thrust into Tess. Word traveled way too fucking fast amongst psychics, and though it would be difficult, he was intent on keeping private things private.

  He turned to find her sitting on the edge of bed, slumping a bit. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she held her arms over her chest, hiding from him.

  Shaking his head, he clucked his tongue. “Really, Tess? You’ve never been shy.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re still wearing your underwear.”

  “Simple to rectify.” He stepped out of his boxer briefs and stopped just in front of her, not touching her, but forcing her to look at him—see him.

  Her hungry gaze raked down his chest to his aching cock, where it lingered.

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  “Sweetheart, if all you wanted was dick, you could have had it years ago.”

  “No. That would have been weird.” She reached out and felt him, gently as if he’d break. Her fingertips were so soft, so light, he hardly felt her inquisitive touch.

  Generally, he would have preferred she ask him for permission, which he would have happily given, but he would have to learn to concede on some things. A dominant consort and a submissive queen. The power exchange would be interesting, indeed.

  It’d be different if he were king, but the Afótama didn’t have kings. They hadn’t in at least a thousand years. Yet another reason their Viking peers had ostracized them. Afótama let woman rule them, and their fellow Northmen believed that made them weak.

  Not so. The Afótama knew their strength was with their mothers: the queen and the matriarch. The queen bound them together, and the matriarch soothed their hurts.

  Instead of cleaving from their mothers, they’d held tight, and their culture remained intact even after centuries of hardship. There may not have been many of them, but at least they hadn’t been relegated to the subject of some scholar’s incomplete history.

  “Lie back,” he said. He hoped it’d sound like a request to her, but it came out sounding more like a command. She did it anyway, but slung her arms over her breasts again when they shifted to the sides.

  He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. “Stop hiding from me.”

  She had beautiful breasts—full and heavy, tipped in dusty pink nipples that begged sucking. If she were concerned about a little sag while horizontal, sh
e must not have known what she looked like.

  Or maybe she did and had been conditioned not to like it.

  Either way needed correction.

  “I’d be more comfortable if we turned off the light.”

  “I want to see you.”

  “I-I don’t. Want you to, I mean.”

  He let his lips close on the retort he had ready and waiting because her voice had gone thick again, and not in a good way. Lust would have made her bolder, more aggressive, even if she were shy. His Tess had never been shy. Something was in the way of the lust, and though he didn’t know what it was, he knew he hadn’t caused it.

  He couldn’t hear her thoughts, and fuck he wished he could, but he knew her tentativeness was something for him to troubleshoot.

  Just not now.

  Normally, he would have kept the light on and made her learn to like it, but being a businessman had taught him all about compromising. He switched off the lamp.

  He could barely see her, but heard her relieved sigh.

  She turned on the bed to lie in the correct direction, and reached for him. “I’m on the pill,” she said softly.

  She’d best not tell her grandmother that. Muriel would be nervously anticipating an heir.

  An heir!

  Fuck. Was he ready for that? Kids? That part of the equation hadn’t even entered his thoughts when he’d stated his intentions to Muriel. He’d just been thinking about him and Tess. Given their childhoods, they were probably both a bit too fucked up to want kids in the very near future. They’d be too tentative.

  Scared.

  “Harvey…” Tess whispered, and her hands found his ass. She gave him an unequivocal little pull.

  She wanted him, and she could have him.

  “What do you have against foreplay, princess?”

  “Don’t want it. Touch me.”

  She wriggled beneath him, and he reached one hand down and pressed a finger into her slit.

  She was dripping wet, and she clenched around him, tight and eager.

  “Hmm.” He slipped his finger into his mouth, tasting her, and considering the possibilities. If she got wet like that just from a kiss, they could fuck anywhere.

  Gods, the thought of the bending the queen over the hood of his truck and giving her a good, hard fuck in the great outdoors made even more blood drain south to his cock. If he’d had the foresight, he would have rubbed one out before she came to her suite, but unfortunately, he wasn’t that kind of psychic.