Vikings' Brides 4 Book Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  “I am sorry for leaving you, dear,” he says. Now that I get a look at him, he is utterly filthy. “But I shall not leave again.”

  He embraces me around my stomach, but I have to pull away from him. “Be careful,” I tell him. “You might hurt the babe.”

  His eyes light up. “The babe? The babe! You are with child?”

  I can only nod through tears. He hugs me again, careful not to squeeze my stomach too hard.

  “My love,” says Einarr. I turn to look at him now. He is filthy, bloody, and sweaty, but he is mostly unharmed. His armor is off now, and his muscles gleam, rising and falling with his heavy breath. Another bead decorates his beard. My warrior. My protector. The man who would fight off a million foes just to rescue me. “We have something to discuss.”

  I am so happy to see him alive right now; I don’t care what it is. “What is it?”

  “We must…” he trails off, as if unsure what to say.

  “We must kill your mother,” interrupts Grim, lowly. He is sitting on a bed, pain contorting his face, as Sassa cleans his wounds. “It is the only way to defeat the Jackals once and for all.”

  The words hit me like a hammer blow. I look up to my father and see the sorrow etched in his face. He nods with me.

  I had hoped, someday, to have a relationship with my mother. To be able to share in my growing family with her.

  But I have known that this is what must be done all along.

  My tears of relief and joy suddenly turn to tears of anguish. Sassa reaches her hand to place it on my shoulder.

  “Goddess,” I mutter to no one.

  “I am sorry, my love,” whispers Einarr. “It is all we can do to keep you safe.”

  “I know. I know.” I take a deep breath. But the sadness leaves me. It is replaced with fury. This woman does not love me. She never did. She is the Queen of the Jackals.

  All she wanted was to steal me away. From the man that I love.

  “Kill her,” I grit.

  “Aye,” nods Einarr, lifting up his sword. He stands quickly and turns to the tunnel, but my father stops him.

  “Let me do this,” says my father. “It is my duty.”

  “Lord Troy…” Einarr whispers.

  “No. I’ll have none of this. The woman was my wife. It is my responsibility. I must be the one to do it.”

  Einarr looks at me, heartbreak in his face, and I nod.

  “Aye,” he says.

  We enter the tunnels together. Einarr, Grim, Sassa, me, and my father. Abram protested, but Einarr threatened to chop his head off if he did not stay with Leiva.

  Einarr holds a torch high above his head, illuminating the dark tunnels with an eerie glow. I am reminded of the time I came running through here to escape from the attack on my party.

  Once again, I am walking through these tunnels to kill a Jackal.

  I stand between my husband and my father, holding both of their hands tightly. I do not know what happened in the battle, or where Father has been. But for now, he and Einarr have become allies. I’m grateful for it.

  “Father, how are you feeling?” I ask.

  A thousand emotions pass his face, illuminated in the low light. “I do not know,” he simply says. “I do not know.”

  He rests his hand on his sword, gripping it tight as if holding onto it for dear life. I know how difficult this must be for him.

  At last, we turn the final corner to approach the cell my mother is caged in. My father releases my hand and lifts his sword in front of him. Ready to do what must be done.

  We approach the cell, the torchlight slowly revealing the floor in front of us. But as we get closer, the light reveals more and more of the cell.

  And it is empty.

  My father drops his blade in shock. Einarr rushes over and thrusts the torch into every corner of the room.

  She is gone. She is gone.

  “Damn it!” he shouts. It echoes off the stone walls.

  “What is it?” calls Grim.

  “She’s gone!”

  We all glance around, wondering how she may have escaped. Wondering where she is now. Wondering what to do.

  “What shall we do?” I ask. “Einarr, what shall we do?”

  What shall we do?

  What shall we do?

  Epilogue

  Einarr

  “It’s too soon!” Thyra yells as she clutches her stomach. Her water broke, but she is three weeks early. “Einarr, I am scared. I’m scared.”

  “I know, I know,” I hold her face as she cries. I’m doing everything I can to hold it together for her. She needs me to be strong. She needs a Warlord, but hell, I’m fucking scared. I’m so damn scared. Three weeks early. What the hell are we to do? What if my baby does not live? I will die. I will fucking die if anything happens to either of them.

  We have heard nothing from her mother or the Jackals in recent weeks. But now, all that seems like a distant dream. All I can focus on now is my love.

  “Thyra, I need you to push,” Leiva says between Thyra’s spread legs.

  Thyra shakes her head. “No. I will not. It is too soon. I won’t have my baby right now.”

  I dab a wet washcloth on her forehead, trying to get the sweat to lessen. She is drenched with it. My hand shakes as I put it in the basin of water and wring it out. I’m a bloody fucking mess.

  “You must push my love. You must. I know you’re frightened, Thyra. I know, but if you don’t, you and the babe will not be safe. I need you to push.”

  “I don’t want to!” she screams as another contraction hits, and then, she falls into a limp heap on the bed, sweating and tired. My heart breaks. My love is crying, sobbing, tired. And there is nothing I can do about it. I cannot fix this.

  Leiva dips her head further between Thyra’s legs. “That’s it. You can do it. I see the head, Thyra. Keep going.”

  “I’m sorry, Einarr. I’m so sorry. I can’t stop. I’m trying. I’m trying, but I can’t stop,” Thyra mutters, staring at me with pure agony.

  I grab her hands, kissing her fingers as I fight my own emotion. “Thyra, all shall be well. I love you. I do not blame you. Have our baby. He or she is coming, whether we like it or not. Later, we can try again if you want. I just need you. Alright? I need you. So push. Please. Push.”

  She nods, and her stomach contracts again. The scream she lets out is that of a warrior.

  “That’s it, Thyra! Push, push. The head is out. You are almost there. You can do it,” Leiva praises.

  The screams Thyra lets out causes my ears to ring.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t,” she sobs.

  “You can. You can. I know you can. It’s fine. I’m here. Push, Thyra. I need you to push, my love.”

  “Thyra!” Lord Troy runs into the medical corridor.

  “Father!” she cries even harder. He sits down on the other side of her, placing his forehead against hers. “The baby is early. I can’t push. I can’t. Father, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You shall do what your body says. You will push. I know, I know it’s scary,” he tries to shush her after she shakes her head. “I’m here. I’m here for you.”

  I never thought I’d say this, but I am glad Lord Troy is here.

  “One more big push, Thyra,” Leiva whispers.

  Thyra bears down and lets out one more scream. It’s long, much longer than the others.

  “That’s it. That’s it, Thyra. You’re doing so good,” Troy praises.

  A deep, pained groan leaves Thyra’s mouth, and Leiva pulls out a baby. My child.

  She cuts the cord and begins working fast. She holds the child upside down and spanks the back. Goop flies out of the little one’s mouth. I’m not even paying attention to see if the child is a girl or boy. I just want to hear the wee thing cry.

  “Come on. Come on,” Leiva grits, giving it one more smack on the small back.

  A loud cry echoes through the room. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, Leiva included. “Thank goddess. Yo
u gave us a fright, little one.”

  Leiva wraps the child up and places it in Thyra’s arms. “Congratulations, Thyra. Warlord. You have a baby girl. And she isn’t as young as we thought. You must have been pregnant longer than I suspected. She seems healthy.”

  “Oh, look at her,” Thyra smiles, tears running down her eyes. “She’s perfect.”

  I run my large finger down my daughter’s cheek. My hand is bigger than her entire body. Goddess, what if I drop her? What if I hurt her?

  “You want to hold her?” Thyra says, placing my daughter in my arms before I can even say anything.

  Once she is there, safe and snug in my embrace, I can’t help but cry. My daughter. She is alive. She is well. My wife is safe. Yes, there are external threats, but those will be taken care of soon. Right now, my family is happy and healthy.

  My breath catches when her small fist wraps around my index finger. “My goddess, look. She is holding me.”

  “Of course, she is. You’re her father. I love holding you too,” Thyra says with heavy, tired eyes.

  “Everyone out. Only mother and father are allowed in here. They need their time with the wee one.”

  Grim pats my shoulder for congratulations, and Sassa kisses Thyra’s forehead. Soon, we are alone with our daughter, sitting there, staring at her beautiful face. Leiva cleans Thyra up, and the little one latches onto her mother’s tit, drinking milk.

  “Drink up, little one,” I whisper.

  “She’s a girl,” Thyra says. “She can fall in love with little Erik.”

  “We talked about this. No. Absolutely not. Never happening.”

  “We shall see,” Thyra never takes her eyes off her daughter.

  “She has your face. Lucky girl.”

  “I bet she has your heart,” Thyra stares at me with nothing but love. I have no idea what I have done to deserve such a thing.

  I kiss her lips, sweaty from labor, but still tasting of love and life. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Einarr.”

  I hear a tiny voice from outside the hall. “Let me in! Let me see!”

  “No, wait, Abigale!” says Abram. “You can’t go—”

  It’s too late. Abigale barrels into the room, Abram haplessly trailing behind her.

  “I want to see my little sister!” she squeals.

  Thyra and I let out a hearty laugh. She waves the two over to her side.

  Abigale’s eyes are wide with wonder. “What’s her name?”

  “Aye, are we going to name her?” I ask, raising my brows when my daughter stops feeding and lets out a large wail.

  “Oh, goddess, come here.” I pick her up and pat her back until she burps and spews milk all over me. I don’t mind. I embrace it. Just like this life the goddess has given me.

  “You’re a natural. I knew you would be.”

  “What about, Deloise? It means Warrior of Glory. That’s what she is to me,” I say. My heart clenches when the wee one opens her eyes. I think she likes it. “Oh, you have your mother’s eyes.” Green eyes, staring directly into my soul.

  “I love it. Deloise Hohlt, daughter of the greatest Warlord, and loving husband, Einarr Hohlt.”

  “You’ve turned me into a sap, Thyra.”

  Deloise yawns and settles against my chest. Her small hand finds my beard, clutching onto it with strong might. My heart in this moment is so full. A life of death and scars, but it is replaced with love and light. My family surrounds me with more love than I ever thought possible.

  There were so many nights where I wished for this, this life, this moment. I never thought I’d have it. I lived in the darkness and death. I only knew of my blade to keep me safe, but now I know there are other ways to be protected.

  Love. It is the greatest shield of all.

  “Deloise Hohlt, daughter of Thyra Hohlt, the keeper of the lost soul.”

  The soul who found its home in her heart.

  THE END

  Book Three - Beowulf’s Claim

  Description

  I found out his secret and ran.

  But there’s nothing Beowulf won’t do to have me.

  Especially now that I’m carrying his baby.

  Big, mysterious, and utterly captivating.

  Beowulf is the beautiful Viking warrior from my past.

  A broken man, full of battle scars…

  We’re two people that should’ve never been together.

  Yet, I fell for him.

  The day we shared our first kiss, I was taken from my home.

  Time has passed and after years of searching. He found me.

  I was left in the woods unconscious, on the brink of death.

  He brought me to his cabin and saved me.

  I became a caretaker to an orphan boy that he was raising.

  But when I recovered my memory and discovered his dark secret, I ran.

  What was I thinking?

  A poor girl like me isn’t meant to have a happily ever after...

  Especially with a man so dangerous and wild.

  I don’t care that he’d search the world for me.

  I’d never be Beowulf’s Claim.

  Prologue

  Beowulf

  Twelve years ago

  All I can think about is Lilith. Her sun kissed skin and her honey-colored eyes. If only Grant would let me rejoice in her beauty, in silence, but my brother can’t seem to stop talking.

  “Come on, Wulf. Come out with us tonight. We have no training tomorrow due to the Lord having his feast. Let’s go to the next village over. There’ll be mead.”

  “Nay, I can’t. I am visiting with Lilith tonight,” I shake my head, schooling my features from bursting into a smile. If I let my friends see how excited and happy she makes me; I’ll never hear the end of it. I have to stay strong and seem heartless because that is what warriors are meant to be. We are cold killers. We aren’t allowed to find happiness.

  But I have found happiness in Lilith. She’s the light on my dark and doomed path. I want to hold onto her forever. I want her to be my lady. We are young, but many people get married now and start families. I’d love to do that with her. I dream about it every night. She’s always on my mind.

  “You’re always with her. Is something going on?” Grant prods, lifting a big, bushy brow as we walk back to the castle. The sun is high in the sky, not a cloud for miles, and I know Lilith is waiting for me in the overgrown meadow on the edge of the cliff, bathing in the sun. I’m missing her beauty because Grant can’t seem to shut the fuck up.

  I want to confide in someone, but I can’t. Lilith is beneath me. Grant shouldn’t even know she and I are friends, but I let it slip one day. He doesn’t care, and I know I can trust him, but a warrior of the kingdom being friends with a girl who is meant to polish my armor one day? It’s unheard of. Forbidden, even.

  I care for none of that. I want Lilith as my own. I’ve thought about running away together. Far away from the rules and royalty and just live. But that isn’t how life works. We have obligations and responsibilities, but damn it, I want to run away with her.

  The worst part of it all? She doesn’t know how I feel about her. I dreamt all this up on my own. I’m too afraid to let her know. I don’t want to ruin our friendship if she doesn’t feel the same, and I can’t live without her. She keeps me grounded and sane. Seeing Lilith is what I look forward to every day. I can’t risk all of that because of what my heart wants.

  “Nay, nothing is going on. She’s my best friend, besides you, Grant. I’ve known her since we were wee ones. Not seeing her would just be odd.”

  Once we come up to the castle, I take a hard left, away from the entrance and toward the meadow.

  “Alright, I’ll see you on the morrow, brother, aye?” Grant asks me.

  “Aye.”

  I give him my back and stomp through the grass as it gets taller. My heart pounds in my chest at the thought of seeing her. Lilith is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her long blonde hair and p
ink, supple lips make me go mad at night when I’m alone in my bed. I want to hold her, feel her skin against mine, hear her voice whisper my name intimately. My goddess, I wager there isn’t a better sound.

  The closer I get to our spot, the smile that I hid around my brother comes out. I get jittery with excitement. I can hardly contain it. I want to shout it to the world how she makes me feel, but it would ruin my life – and hers. We sneak around behind everyone’s backs, just for a moment of each other’s company.

  I break through the treelines, marching onto the path she and I created on the ground from always hiking through the same spot. The trees are tall, but the leaves are starting to turn, signaling a change in the season. Lilith loves it when it gets cold. The leaves become beautiful shades of yellows and reds. She can stay in the woods for hours, just staring at the foliage. She says it makes her calm, and who am I to stop her if it is something she loves to do?

  My boots crunch against the small twigs on the ground. The sun breaks through the treeline up ahead. I’m getting close. More light starts to illuminate the natural darkness of the forest with every step I take. Butterflies flap around in my stomach. I take a deep breath. I need to relax. Lilith is the only one who can subside the warrior in me. I’m not sure what kind of man she makes me, but I know I’m softer with her. Kinder and gentler.

  I’d fight a thousand men every day for this woman, just to gain a smile from her lips.

  After what seems like an eternity, the swaying flowers of the meadow brush against my thigh. Up ahead, near the edge of the cliff, Lilith waits for me. I’d know those shiny blonde strands from anywhere. She must hear me stomping through the field because she turns her head, holds her hand over her eyes to block the sun, and when she sees me, she grins, showing dimples on either side of her cheeks.