Viking's Claim

by Madison Faye

  Suddenly, a voice booms out from the tree line behind them, stopping the men fast and bringing fear to their eyes. They whirl, and my eyes follow.

  …And my jaw drops.

  Because I know the huge, towering beast of a man standing at the edge of the trees with the massive sword in his big hands and the terrifying scowl on his face. Oh, I know him alright. I know what his lips taste like. I’ve dreamed fever dreams of him for weeks.

  …I’m wearing his necklace.

  The massive and terrifyingly beautiful Tor Odinson steps from the trees, scowling at the other men before he turns to me. His eyes blaze with dark grey fire, piercing right into me and taking my breath away as he steps towards me, pushing aside the others.

  “Mine,” he snarls in accented English as he moves closer.

  “Mine,” he growls, quieter as he steps right into me, until he’s towering above me.

  “I—I—” I blink, trembling, my mouth opening and closing without words.

  A low growling sound grumbles in his throat, a gravely baritone sound that rumbles through my very core.

  Wordlessly, he reaches out and touches his big knuckles under my chin, raising my head up as he smiles wickedly and hungrily at me.

  “Mine.”

  He moves like lightening, and I don’t even have time to blink or take a breath before he’s scooped me up like I weigh nothing at all and tossed me over his shoulder. Adrenaline spikes through me, my whole body shivering and trembling at the feel of his rippling muscles against my body and his powerful hands holding me firmly.

  He barks something in the Norse language, and suddenly, every man there jumps into action, darting back into the woods and suddenly pulling out the hidden rowboats there.

  “Wait!” I gasp as Tor holds me over his shoulder with one hand and helps shove one of the boats into the water with the other. He steps into the boat holding me firmly.

  “Wait, where—!?”

  He barks another order in the Norse tongue, and the men shove off, jumping into the boats and manning the oars as we start to move quickly away from the shore, off into the water towards the red-sailed warships.

  I’m being stolen by the most fearsome, dangerous, wild Viking marauder in the world.

  …And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be this excited.

  Chapter 3

  Rhona

  The rowboats move quick as lightning, skimming over the waves as we move further and further away from the shore. Tor never takes me from his shoulder—his hands never leaving me as he stands at the bow of the rowboat, wind whipping around him. There’s the sound of yelling, and I look up to realize we’re already at the biggest of the red-sailed ships.

  I gasp as Tor grabs a rope ladder hanging over the side, hoisting his huge size with me along with him with one hand as he climbs onto the big ship. Up on the deck, he strides with purpose, holding me firmly, ignoring the stares of the other Vikings on the ship as he storms to a door at the back of the boat. He shoulders it open, my heart pounding as we step into darkness and down a flight of stairs to another door. He kicks this one open as well, and when we step into flickering candlelight, I realize we’re in some sort of sleeping quarters.

  His sleeping quarters.

  The room is sparse but for a rack of swords and other bladed weapons on one wall, a mounted bear’s head on another. And then, against one wall stands a huge bed draped with furs. Tor strides right for it, and my heart jumps into my throat as I realize where he’s headed.

  “Wait!”

  I scream—loudly, and without restraint, kicking and hitting him as I belt out cries for help. No one comes, obviously, and Tor ignores my strikes against his chest and back as if I were nothing more than a fly buzzing around him. At the bed, I gasp as he whisks me off his shoulder and tosses me down across it. I scramble and scrabble back from him, shoving myself away from him until my back comes up against the headboard.

  “What do you want with me?!” I spit, panting as the spike of fear and adrenaline blazes through me.

  Tor just grins, his eyes fierce and wild as the pierce into me.

  “Do you speak English?” I blurt out, swallowing, my eyes darting between him and the door behind him. Right, as if I’m going to make a break for it. As if even if somehow, I did make it past the giant of a man blocking my path, the fact that we’re on a boat, sitting in the ocean, and full of fierce and wild Viking marauders wouldn’t be a problem for me.

  And when I think about the rough, savage men who advanced on me on the beach, and the ones on this very boat, suddenly I wonder the insane thought that I may actually be safer in here, with him, than I would be out there.

  “Is it money you want?” I say it louder, annunciating my words.

  “Mon-ney!” I yell, rubbing two imaginary coins together with my fingers. Tor looks at me blankly and I shiver.

  “Coin? Money? Gold?” I yell. I mime holding a bag of coins in my palm, hefting it. A slight smile crosses Tor’s face, but his blank look remains.

  I huff, hugging myself.

  “Well if you don’t even speak English, you big oaf, why in the seven hells are we even here—”

  “I speak English just fine,” Tor suddenly says, in, well, perfect English, though tinged with a Norse accent.

  My breath catches, my eyes going wide before I scowl at him.

  “Well why would you not mention that?”

  He smirks. “I was too amused watching you.”

  I glare at him as he chuckles.

  “What was that second motion you made? With your hand? Was that supposed to be the universal sign for cupping my balls?”

  I blush violently, my jaw dropping at his crude crassness.

  “Why you disgusting—” I purse my lips shaking my head. “And you didn’t bother to let on that you spoke English bef—”

  I clamp my lips shut before I can finish the word.

  “Before?” Tor rumbles, saying it for me anyways.

  I blush, looking away, and I hear him chuckle.

  “Perhaps I was too busy kissing you.”

  I gasp as his hand shoots out, grabbing my ankle and yanking me towards where he stands at the foot of the bed. He growls, leaning down over me, locking those fierce eyes onto me.

  “Something I’ve very much been wanting to continue,” he growls lowly.

  I shiver, swallowing thickly.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Tor grins, his eyes sparking. “Little bird, I’m not sure you’re ready to know all the things I would very much dare to do.”

  My lip catches between my teeth, and I shiver at the heat in his gaze.

  “Don’t you dare touch—”

  “I could damn well tear this pretty little wedding dress right off of you right now and have my damn way with you any way I please,” he growls, and I whimper at the thundering baritone of his voice that rumbles through my very core. I whimper, and I know he hears it.

  …And it might be more than me just being scared. It might—might—have something to do with the powerful, huge, somewhat terrifying but completely beautiful savage of a man looming over me, eyeing me like he wants to devour me.

  …Like he did both of those times before. And both of those times before, I ended up kissing him until I felt like my heart might just beat right out of my chest.

  Slowly, Tor grins, a chuckle rumbling through him.

  “Now why do I get the feeling you might just like it if I did, little one.”

  I swallow, pursing my lips as I glare at him.

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And if that helps with you trying to keep your hands off of me, you go right ahead and keep telling yourself that.”

  My jaw drops.

  “You—!”

  “Brute? Savage? Beast?” He chuckles again. “I’ve heard it all, princess.”

  I bite my lip, eying him.

  “What do you want with me?”

  Tor grins again, his fierce eyes blazing as he leans clo
ser over me, making my pulse jump.

  “Is it not obvious?”

  “If it was, do you think I would be asking—”

  “You,” he growls out fiercely as he leans so close to me, his face inches from mine.

  “I want you, little bird.”

  He leans in, and when I feel his lips brush just shy of touching mine, I can’t even stop the little whimper that tumbles out of my mouth.

  And Tor grins.

  “Bad girl,” he growls, before suddenly he whirls, pulling away from me and leaving me panting with my head-spinning on the bed. He turns and strides for the door, pausing just before he opens it to glance back at me.

  “I found you again, my little bird,” he growls in that deep, gravely baritone that rumbles through my very core.

  “And this time, little one,” he purrs, his eyes blazing through me. “This time, you’re mine.”

  Chapter 4

  Rhona

  I don’t know how long we sail for, but at some point, I’m aware that the boats have stopped moving. There’s the sound above deck of men yelling, and of ropes being tied off and sails being stored.

  The door swings wide, and this time, it isn’t Tor. Two other savage, wild looking men in furs with beards and swords advance on me, ignoring my screams and curses as they grab my arms and haul me from the cabin. Up to the deck we go, over the side again, and down into another rowboat. It’s dark out now, and when we start to row for the shore, my eyes are drawn to the tall, roaring bonfires illuminating the rocky coast and flickering over the water.

  On land, the two men haul me up the shore towards the fires. The rocks give way to grass, and then suddenly I realize we’re entering a camp. Wood and hide-skin tents and lean-tos dot the small clearing, bonfires roaring all over the place like some sort of scene from a pagan ritual. The Viking marauders themselves are hard at celebration—drinking from flagons, tearing meat from spits over fires, mock-fighting each other, and roaring with mirth and laughter. It’s utter savagery around me, and I shiver as eye after eye lands on me and holds, drinking me in.

  The two men keep dragging me deeper and deeper into the camp, moving towards the biggest fire of them all. And there, slouched in a huge wooden throne of sorts, his eyes blazing right through the fire to me, is Tor.

  He looks every inch the savage lord—his big broadsword leaning against his knee, his eyes wild and untamed, and a huge flagon of something in his big hand. He roars at some joke someone says, but his eyes are locked on me as they bring me forward.

  “Here,” he growls, beckoning. The men pull me towards him, and at his command, they let me go right in front of him.

  “Sit, little one,” he growls, nodding at his knee. I glare at him, pursing my lips. Tor just grins.

  “Or sit on the ground, though I doubt it’s comfortable.”

  “The ground is just fine,” I snap, gathering my skirts and sitting at his feet.

  “Ale?”

  I glance up to see Tor offering me a giant flagon of something, but I shake my head.

  “Not a chance.”

  He chuckles again, shaking his head. “You should enjoy yourself.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because this party is for you, princess,” he growls.

  My brows shoot up.

  “For me?”

  “Well, for us.” He grins. “It’s in celebration of our marriage.”

  My jaw drops as I stare daggers at him. “We are not married!”

  “No, but we’re going to be,” Tor says easily, leaning back in his big chair and downing the mug he’s just offered me. In front of us, savage and terrifying men with beards and scars and leather-bound clothes get up and dance and shriek at the fire. There are women there too—wild, half-naked, beautiful women who howl at the fire and drink ale with the men.

  I’m so engrossed in them that I don’t notice the men approaching until they’re standing right in front of me.

  “Well now,” one growls, eyeing me in a sickeningly hungry way.

  “Now what’s this pretty little thing?”

  I glance back and realize Tor’s chair is empty, and I shiver. I turn back to the three men standing in front of me, my mouth pursed shut.

  “A prize I’ve not yet been told of, eh?” The one man—the leader of the three, perhaps—leers, his eyes gliding over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

  “I—I’m not—”

  “Why don’t take that fancy dress off and give us a show, eh?”

  I freeze, coldness tingling over me as I hug myself tighter.

  “Please, I’m just—”

  “She’s mine!”

  Tor’s roaring voice comes out of nowhere, and both me and the three men whirl at the sudden and savage sound of him. Two of the men glance at each other and slink away. But the ringleader just glares right back at Tor.

  “Prizes are to be shared, my jarl,” he spits.

  “Not this one,” Tor rumbles right back, his muscles clenching, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Look away, Haggar,” he hisses.

  The man, Haggar, scowls. “You know the rules of the clan, jarl. She is to be—”

  “You have three seconds to walk away and never look at her again,” Tor snarls. Haggar glares right back.

  “One. Two.”

  Haggar’s hand darts out for my wrist “Come give me a taste, little—”

  He screams in agony as Tor’s hand jerks out, grabbing him by the forearm and wrenching before his hand can close around my wrist. There’s a sickening crunching sound, and Haggar screams in pain as he goes stumbling back, clutching his wrist. His hand hangs at an awful, unnatural angle, and he screams again as Tor stands. The big Viking lashes out with a booted foot, kicking Haggar in the chest and sending him sprawling across the dirt by the fire.

  The partying goes quiet for a moment, everyone turning to eye the huge Viking commander and the broken, sniveling man on the ground.

  “You—I think you broke my arm!” he screams at Tor. He starts to scramble for his feet, reaching for his sword, when suddenly, six other men are holding swords to his neck.

  “Easy, Haggar,” a huge, gruff, wild but handsome bearded man growls. His eyes dart to Tor, and he winks before turning back and hissing as he presses the tip of his blade against Haggar’s throat.

  “He did warn you.”

  Haggard huffs, sniveling, but slowly, he nods his head. He looks up, his face simpering as he glances at Tor.

  “My apologues, my Jarl. I—I’ve been—”

  “You’ve been drinking,” Tor growls. He glares right at him before he sighs, waving the man off. He nods at the blond-haired man, who nods back before disappearing back into the crowd.

  “Come,” Tor growls, standing and reaching out to me. I hesitate, but when our eyes lock and I see the fierceness there, I shiver as I nod. His huge hand envelopes my small fingers, and he easily lifts me to my feet before turning for a huge tent behind him, pulling me along.

  He pushes the heavy furs aside, pulling me after him into a large tent illuminated by glowing lanterns hanging from the ceiling. He lets go of me, striding to a table and pouring himself a cup of ale, his back to me.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  Tor knocks back his glass before setting it down and turning to me. And I shiver when that fierce gaze sizzles through me, one of his brows arcing.

  “For… for saving me,” I mumble out shyly.

  He grins a small, wicked smile.

  “You think I pulled you in here to save you.”

  Something hot sizzles through me.

  “I—I know you did.”

  He may be fierce, and wild, and somewhat scary. And he may have just stolen me away, but I know he’s not going to hurt me. If he was, he would have done so the two other times we were alone.

  Tor’s lips pull back in a fierce, savage grin.

  “Maybe I did it to get you alone, so that I could claim you,” he grunts. He sets the glass down and
moves towards me purposefully. I shiver, but deep down, I know there’s a wicked heat to it too.

  “I took you today and brought you in here just now because you’re mine, and mine alone,” he growls.

  “I—I’m supposed to marry—”

  “Not anymore you aren’t.”

  The tent goes quiet for a moment as he barks the words out. But slowly, his face softens, is eyes dipping low over me. Slowly, he smiles a thin smile, and when I follow his gaze, I blush as I realize the top few buttons of my wedding dress have ripped open.

  “You’re wearing the necklace.”

  I blush fiercely.

  “I—yes,” I nod shyly.

  “Good,” he grunts, moving closer.

  “W—what are you doing?” I whisper, my pulse racing in my ears.

  “Whatever I want.”

  I shiver as he moves closer, his massive frame looming over me. And suddenly, it’s like I’m right back to those two stolen kisses from before—first at Una’s wedding during the attack, and then, when Tor came for me again at Ailith’s. His large hand reaches out, and when his big fingers touch my chin and raise my gaze up, I swallow thickly. Tor leans down, those grey eyes of his blazing into me, never blinking, never faltering as he moves closer, until his lips just brush against mine.

  “Whatever I want, little bird.”

  His lips crush to mine, hard, and I whimper as that kiss steals the breath from me. My whole body trembles, my world spinning on its axis as the rough, untamed Viking sears his lips to mine. I shiver, whimpering quietly, and I know he feels it.

  Tor pulls away, grinning, his eyes full of grey fire.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it.”

  “What feels good?” I manage to mumble out.

  His eyes spark.

  “Doing what you shouldn’t.”