Vikings Unleashed: 9 modern Viking erotic romances

by Kate Pearce

  “I’ll see you in a bit.” She retreated to her suite, tossed her shoes onto the floor, and collapsed onto the end of the bed. No sooner had she closed her eyes was there a tap on the door.

  “That was fast.” Nan must have grabbed the first dessert plate that crossed her path. “Come in. I haven’t even taken my dress off.”

  The heavy wooden double doors creaked as they were pushed inward, and Harvey stepped just across the threshold.

  She chuckled to herself, observing he’d been trussed up pretty splendidly himself. He was always well put-together in his quality suits and well-cut shirts, but there was something to be said for a tuxedo on a tall, athletic man. She eyed him from the tip of his polished shoes, up long legs she knew were all lean muscle from years of competitive swimming, past his trim waist, and paused at his bow tie, dangling at the neck.

  He’d looked far more comfortable than she had during her official, and overdue, ceremony. He knew her well and spoke for her when she couldn’t string a sentence together, and made her social debut all around less awkward. He was in his element around their people, whereas Tess was drowning in them.

  “Tess,” he said, and his deep voice stirred her back to the here and now. To his face.

  His eyes were narrowed in consternation, lips set in a tight line, and his eyebrows bunched.

  And he just stood there in the doorway.

  “You volunteered, Harvey.” A grin pushed at her cheeks. “Did you finally understand what sort of walking disaster you’d be aligning yourself with forevermore?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve known for a long time what sort of disaster you are. That wouldn’t make me change my mind. I like a challenge.”

  She crossed her legs at the knees and leaned back onto her elbows, cocking up an eyebrow. “Still intent on taming me, then? You should know better.”

  Once more, he shook his head. “I like you wild.”

  “Then what?”

  His lips parted and he drew in a deep breath, but when no words came out, Tess felt a prickle of disquietude that had nothing to do with the sort of psychic she was supposed to be. This was pure observation, because she knew him that well.

  He didn’t say anything, but turned his head minutely to the left as if he heard something Tess could not. He took a few more steps into the room and turned his back to Tess, and before she could ask him what was bothering him, Nan entered the room, clutching the long skirt of her ball gown to hold the hem off the floor.

  Tess stood. “Nan?”

  Nan dropped the skirt and shifted her clear blue gaze from Tess to Harvey, and then back to Tess. “We have an unexpected situation,” she started, and there was a bit of a nervous warble in her usually commanding tone. When she spoke, people listened and had no doubts that they should obey. Everyone knew she had the ear of the gods through Ótama, and was rumored to be highly favored by the goddess Gefjon. The Afótama greenhouses practically overflowed with fruits and vegetables, in spite of the shortage of water in the desert. Karmic payback for their people starving back in Europe.

  “What’s unorthodox, Nan?”

  “Usually, when a man claims one of our women, there’s no contention or challenging.”

  “But—”

  “But some asshole seems to think I’m not alpha enough for you, Tess,” Harvey said with a dry bark of laughter that couldn’t sound further from mirthful. He dragged a hand through his loose hair and gave it a small yank. “He doesn’t think a guy like me is cut from the right cloth to be the queen’s consort, but if he thinks he’s going to just walk in here and put his mark on you like you’re a piece of goddamned property—”

  Nan didn’t say anything, at least not aloud, but Harvey’s words came to an abrupt stop.

  She twined her fingers together at her belly and turned her head toward Harvey. He bowed slightly, and said quietly, “I apologize, Muriel, but given the circumstances…”

  “I’m aware of the circumstances, Mr. Lang, and my last job before I completely abdicate is deciding what to do about them. If I’d ever thought I’d be in a situation where I’d have to mediate a partnership debate over my own granddaughter, I would have bet good money on it.”

  “What you’re saying is that this has never happened since you’ve been queen?” Tess asked. She appreciated they were speaking aloud instead of trying to converse telepathically. She would probably have crumbled under the added mental onslaught.

  Nan turned back to Tess and shook her head. “Most of us have a good idea of who we’d like to pair off with from the time we’re very young, and others respect that potential bonding.”

  “I don’t like it,” Harvey said.

  Tess scoffed. “Well, I don’t like any of this. I’m supposed to be queen, and yet I feel like I don’t have a say in what’s supposed to be one of the most important decisions of my life. I chose Harvey. I knew what I was doing when we…”

  She zipped her lips. No need to go into graphic details.

  “Of course you have a say,” Nan said. “All I ask is of you, as your queen, is that you try to respect the old ways, although you weren’t raised in them.” She pressed her hands to Tess’s shoulders and rubbed up and down her arms. Her expression softened. “As your grandmother, I only ask that you try to keep our family tree from coming to an abrupt halt. We’ve got deep roots, and short branches, my love. It’s not just your burden, but Jody’s and Nadia’s as well.”

  Tess didn’t doubt her brother and cousin had already gotten the be fruitful and multiply speech numerous times already, because they were also keeping with the trend of the generation and hadn’t yet taken partners. Apparently, it was Tess’s job to lead the charge.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked on a sigh.

  Nan’s smooth forehead furrowed, and she chafed Tess’s shoulders some more. “The challenge is yours as much as it is Mr. Lang’s. If Mr. Gilisson is strong enough, he can force the pairing. It rarely happens, as it’s something we look down on. In fact, most view it as a sort a crime when it’s done to the clan’s rulers, but again, it’s one of those things that hasn’t happened in so long that I can’t suggest a course of action for you.”

  “I may not be great at jumping to conclusions, but I do have a good gut for actions. I do the instinctive thing. It usually works out. I’m sure it will this time, too.” Tess sounded more confident than she felt. She hoped that she could plot a path out of this mess, now that it really mattered. If she had to bond with anyone, she’d prefer it to someone she knew and liked.

  Nan laughed softly. “That was one of Ótama’s gifts. You should trust it.”

  The comparison to her forebear filled Tess with peace, but it was short-lived. The noise in her head was too loud. “All I can do is try.”

  “I’m going to go fetch Mr. Gilisson and take my leave for the evening.”

  Tess grabbed at her grandmother’s arm before she could turn away. “Wait, you’re just going to bring him here and leave him? No chaperone?”

  Nan shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. This is to be worked out between you, Mr. Lang, and Mr. Gilisson. I doubt they’ll come to blows, sweetheart. Not in front of you, at least. It’d be unseemly because you’re supposed to be protected from violence.”

  Tess snorted.

  Nan sighed. “At least pretend to let your entourage fight your battles. That’s all I ask. Your mother would have wilted at the thought of getting into the thick of things.”

  “Is that a judgment?”

  “No.” This time, when Nan pulled away, Tess let her. “You’re very different from your mother, but there’s no doubt who you come from.”

  Tess let her grandmother’s words settle in pieces into her brain while watching her skirt swish as she retreated toward the double doors.

  Tess sat on the foot of the bed again, and twined her fingers.

  She’d been at this place less than a month and couldn’t really be expected to understand the ways of these people, but so many of the A
fótama customs seemed contradictory. They were descended from Vikings, but because females tended to be the stronger psychics, the women ruled the clan. If Tess was meant to govern, why couldn’t she veto this challenger right off the bat? Why did he get the final say?

  Heavy footsteps became louder as someone made their way up the stairs just beyond the doors. Harvey loped toward the door, and Tess stood.

  “Wait here with me,” she said, and he stopped.

  He looked from the door, to Tess, and swallowed.

  “Please.”

  He nodded, and joined her near the bed. When she sat, with her foot tapping involuntarily and hands shaking, he sat, too, and pressed a hand to her knee. “I won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t want,” he said.

  The words barely registered, because when the man who was apparently Mr. Gilisson stood in the doorway, he drew all the air out of the room with his presence.

  At least, it seemed that way to Tess.

  Fuck. To say she was confused would have been like saying an ice cube sank the Titanic. With him now in the room, she didn’t feel chagrined about his challenge. It seemed…appropriate.

  He straightened, slowly, keeping his mismatched eyes locked on Tess. “May I come in?”

  Suddenly, Tess had a very good idea of what scary-beautiful meant. It was standing in front of her. This guy was big—not only tall, but also broad at the shoulders. How the hell had she missed him in the soiree? He couldn’t have been there. He wasn’t wearing a tux, but pair of well-loved blue jeans and a black shirt under a leather jacket. He looked like he could command a Viking longship as easily as a motorcycle club. And she knew a little something about motorcycle clubs. She’d hidden out in one during the year she was nineteen.

  “Tess?” Harvey gave her knee a squeeze and she turned to him.

  “Yes?”

  “He asked to come in. I think you know what the answer would be if it were up to me.”

  Of course he could come in. Why was he still standing there in the doorway like…

  Oh.

  “Come in and close the doors,” she said, sounding authoritative, but certainly not feeling it.

  Mr. Gilisson nodded, shut the doors quietly, and turned to her. “Contessa, I challenge anyone who would claims your hand. I invoke the right to declare hólmganga.”

  When he started across the sisal rug, Harvey stood, raring for a fight, but Tess grabbed him by the waistband and pulled him back.

  Mr. Gilisson stopped in front of her and dropped onto one knee. He reached for her hand, and she gave it, just like that.

  She didn’t know how, but he honed in on a little birthmark on her wrist right beneath the palm and massaged it.

  “Of course it’s there,” he said. “I know almost everything about you.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Harvey snapped. “Everything about her has been laid bare for everyone who wanted to know. She’ll never have a moment’s privacy ever again.”

  Mr. Gilisson ignored him and locked that odd stare on her. One blue eye, and one eye that was half blue and half brown. A beautiful deformity. “Contessa,” he said, and turned her hand over. “I’m Oliver. Your Ollie.”

  “Ollie?” Should she have known that name? She checked in with her gut, and it told her nothing. She was on her own with this.

  He put his lips over that faint birthmark then took her hand in both of his. It was a romantic gesture with him down on his knee like he was.

  “Yes, Contessa. I’ve been dreaming of you almost every night for six years. Until a week ago, I didn’t think you were real.”

  Her mind was blissfully quiet for once, so she couldn’t blame the chatter on the Afótama web for her inability to formulate a quick response.

  Six years of dreams?

  Who the hell was this guy?

  8

  Ollie’s would-be beloved sat in a state of stunned horror. Those tawny eyes went wide and lips parted wordlessly.

  “Dreaming of me?” Tess’s words jostled him from his thoughts, and all he could do was nod like an idiot.

  She was so fucking beautiful. Before now, she’d had a masterful poker face. He couldn’t glean a goddamned thing off her thoughts. No words, no emotions. She was locked down tight, and that scared him. There weren’t too many Afótama, female or not, who could do that. Muriel was the only other person he’d encountered who could, and he’d made a habit of giving the former queen a wide berth whenever they threatened to cross paths.

  “Yes. In living color, baby.”

  “Don’t get too familiar,” the man in the tux said, and Ollie wanted to pop him a good one. Just a little black eye to decorate that too-pretty face. No big deal. He refused to give up Tess’s hands to do it, though.

  Gentleman. Be a gentleman.

  “It’s all right, Harvey,” she said, but looked at Ollie. “I’d like to hear what he has to say. I don’t think he wants to be here.”

  She was a smart one. Gods, how refreshing.

  “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be your consort. I don’t care about that. I want to take you home, because you’re mine.”

  Her eyebrows darted up and cheeks flooded bright red. She didn’t grab her hand back, though. That was a good sign, right?

  “Y-yours?”

  “Happens every now and then. We all have someone who’s good for us, though most of us settle for whoever’s close.” He cut his gaze to the asshole in the tux and then back to Contessa. “When I was a kid, my mother told me that sometimes folks like us put out psychic feelers for our mates and they may come to us in our dreams. I didn’t remember that until I rode out here. It was a long ride, and I had a lot of time to think.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Have you dreamed about me? Even once?”

  “I—”

  She didn’t manage to get out whatever she was going to say, because that asshole in the tux reached for her knee and squeezed it. “You don’t need to indulge his curiosity, Tess.”

  Tess, he’d called her. Tess. Obviously, Ollie wasn’t the only one getting familiar.

  Ollie let go of her hand and balled his into loose fists at his sides. He locked a cold stare on the asshole in the tux, hoping to convey a threat with his gaze. “Back off unless you want to see me become uncivil.”

  Asshole in the tux narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead, Paul Bunyan. Show her your true colors.”

  It pained Ollie to concede it, but the guy had a point. He wasn’t going to fight like an alpha wolf over a preferred mate. All he had to do was prove the gods favored their match. It wasn’t like it would be an inconvenience. Once he got her clothes off and his hands on her body, she’d know what he already did.

  He took a deep breath, let it out, then reached for her hand again.

  She gave it to him readily.

  “I don’t want to make demands of you, but you should know you have options. I just want to make sure you know what they are. That’s all I ask.”

  “You’re asking a lot. Maybe it doesn’t seem that way to you, but perhaps you didn’t hear. I didn’t grow up in this place.”

  He chuckled. “Neither did I. I’m practically an outcast. I’m surprised they let me in the gates.”

  “What would an outcast want with me?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard rumblings about the splinter groups and how they continuously seek to undermine the peace here. Maybe they’re the ones who kidnapped me twenty-something years ago.”

  He would have pulled what little bit of hair he had if he were willing to let go of her hand. Obviously, that fifteen hours on his bike plus the few hours he’d stopped for food and rest hadn’t been long enough to think through all the ramifications of him claiming her.

  He chose his words carefully. “I know that happens far more often than you should be comfortable with, but I can promise you it’s not my group. We don’t make trouble, because we don’t like the attention. Stirring up Afótama doesn’t serve our purposes.”

  “That doesn’t reassure me, Mr. Gilisson.”


  He cringed. So formal. “Call me Ollie.”

  She turned to the asshole in the tux whose gaze was locked on Ollie. His expression was pulled in some inscrutable configuration Ollie wouldn’t have been able to make heads or tails of if it weren’t for the fact Ollie could glean bits and pieces of his thoughts.

  This guy didn’t trust him. He was angry with Ollie for coming here. He probably believed Contessa needed a familiar face and forgiving friend in her ranks, not a stranger.

  He had to know her from before—he must have been one of the missing ones, too.

  Ollie hated to do it, but he’d have to make the guy understand that Tess didn’t need mild-mannered betas in her entourage. She needed a man who’d tell it to her straight and the wise counsel a woman of her stature required.

  “Fine. Ollie,” she said. “Your presence here came as a surprise to all of us, so you’ll have to tell us what you expect to happen.”

  He knew what was going to happen. They’d psychically tether to each other and fill in each other’s gaps. They’d be better than what they were when they started and completely tapped in to each other’s emotional wellbeing. It was inevitable, because he’d had the dreams and she was promised to him. It wasn’t a question of what, but a question of when.

  “All I ask is that we try to connect and see what happens. You can try it with your friend here, too. I do believe you’ll find one of us to be more compatible than the other, and the decent thing for the man who falls short to do would be to back off.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it without having said a word. Looking to her friend, she squeezed Ollie’s hand tight. “Are you okay with that arrangement, Harvey?”

  Harvey’s nostrils flared and eyes flashed dark. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before he responded. “I won’t buck tradition, but it’s not up to me. The better question would be if you’re comfortable with it.”