Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) (17 page)

Though she might find this whole process ridiculous, she could admit to being fascinated by the way he fought. The fluid way muscles slid over long bones as he seemed to take his time with his opponent. Her eyes were drawn to the tight globes of his leather encased ass flexing as he parried with the other man.

It almost seemed he
wanted
to take his time with one.

Megan grinned at her. “I think he wants you lusting after him sister.”

Done. Days, no weeks ago. She frowned. “So trying to get himself killed is supposed to turn me on?”

“You’ve a lot to learn about Vikings, never mind male dragons, woman.” Naðr slid sly eyes her way. “But then he’s accomplishing what he set out to do, is he not?”

“Don’t be lewd,” she muttered and buried her face in another sip of mead as she eyed Raknar. Hell yes, he was accomplishing what he set out to do.

Calm, barely breaking a sweat, Raknar at last slammed his foot into his opponent’s stomach. When the guy hit the floor, he dropped so that his knee lodged beneath the man’s chin.

“Raknar Sigdir, winner!” Naðr declared.

On and on the fighting went until there were two lines of three. It was at this point, still completely enthralled by the way Raknar’s body moved, that she realized how much this seemed to be for show. Mere formalities. Because none were his equal. Honestly,  she suspected his equals sat on either side of her. Which brought her eyes to Kol.

“Thanks for not competing,” she murmured.

His eyes slid her way and his dimples erupted as he grinned. “I would never. I love you both too much.”

Warmed by his honesty, she squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.

The fighting continued until only two men were left. Veronica was amazed to see one of them was the giant she’d labeled Wandering Hands. The other, of course, was Raknar.

By this time, the crowd was rambunctious. Heavy rain mixed with the sound of drums and spitting flames. Raknar at last yanked off his tunic as he and his opponent circled one another. Wandering Hands sneered. Raknar chuckled. Both were equal in stature as they continued to circle.

When Wandering Hands swung his blade fast, Raknar ducked and spun, driving the hilt of his dagger into the man’s side. With a grunt, the other guy wrapped his arm around Raknar’s waist and slammed his fist into his side. Not fazed in the least, the king’s brother unsheathed a blade lightning fast and swiped it across Wandering Hands' upper arm.

In retaliation, Wandering Hands tried to knock Raknar’s foot out from beneath him but wasn’t nearly fast enough. Raknar stepped aside then jab, jab, jab, he tagged him three times fast before driving down his center with his shoulder.

They went down hard and rolled. Then they leaped to their feet. Both had a sword in one hand and an axe in the other.

Holy
shit
.

Naðr grunted with approval and swigged from his horn.

Megan’s eyes were wide, but Veronica suddenly got the impression her sister wasn’t necessarily watching the fighting. Instead, she appeared to be staring at Raknar oddly. She didn’t have much time to ponder why as the battling became more intense.

Sweat slicked, the men were simultaneously clanging first swords then axes, their measured attacks one hell of a show. What made it all that much more fascinating, or ludicrous, depending how you looked at it, was that both were laughing as they warred viciously.

The crowd roared and shifted back like a wave as the men went after one another. Round and round they went until Raknar moved just a fraction faster and slammed the axe free from Wandering Hands.

You would have thought Raknar would’ve taken advantage, but he instead tossed aside his axe so that the men remained equally matched. Both grinned wickedly as they clashed blades so fast the eye could barely keep up. Viewing him from the side, her eyes slid over Raknar’s long length, fascinated by the dynamic, entrancing way his muscles flexed from his neck down to his calves.

The crowd gasped when their blades crossed and nearly met each other’s necks. Then the people roared when they pushed off then came back at one another quickly. Clang, clang, clang, blades clashed over and over and over until Raknar spun and kicked Wandering Hands so hard in the chest that he released his blade.

As he flew back, Raknar tossed aside his sword while pulling free a dagger. He jumped and landed with his feet on either side of Wandering Hands. Before the man’s head slammed against the ground, Raknar grabbed his hair and brought the blade flush against his neck.

The crowd fell silent.

“Raknar Sigdir, winner!” Naðr roared.

The room exploded in a deafening round of applause made of clapping, shouting, and weapons banging off shields. Kol, Kjar, Naðr, and Megan stood and cried out their approval.

Veronica, however, was speechless, stunned, unable to see anything but Raknar’s back as he kept the blade against his opponent. Where before two women had clearly twisted and struggled around the dragon as they climbed up his back, the tattoo had changed.

Now there was only one woman.

Striking, with light brown hair and green eyes, the woman’s arms wrapped around the dragon’s neck. She didn’t try to hold it back but seemed to cherish and admire its long serpent body, the simple strength it possessed.

Her eyes narrowed.

It couldn’t be.

Veronica had no further time to speculate before Raknar pulled back and held his hand down to Wandering Hands. The man chuckled before he took it, stood and they clapped one another on the back.

The next thing she knew, Raknar spun and leaped up on the table in front of her. Wide-eyed, she met his triumphant eyes.

Their gazes held.

“To my father, Raknar Sigdir!” came Heidrek’s cry from the crowd.

Raknar tore his gaze from her, met Heidrek’s eyes and made a come-hither motion with his hand. When his son rushed over, he swung him up and pulled him against his side. The crowd again roared with approval. His eyes soon swung back to her and he held down his hand.

The crowd once more fell silent.

Waited.

She didn’t make them wait long.

Veronica grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her up into his arms. Because it seemed so natural, she hugged them both and they hugged her right back.

The crowd went wild.

Her entire world became Raknar and Heidrek. They felt so entirely perfect and she squeezed her eyes shut to tears. Now wasn’t the time. Several long moments went by, all of which she wished would last forever, but they were standing on a table after all.

Raknar pulled back and looked down at Heidrek. “I’ve got to make my claim now, son. How do you feel about that?”

A wide smile split Heidrek’s face as his eyes went to Veronica then Raknar’s. He nodded, straightened his shoulders and again spoke without a stutter. “You make a
good
claim, father.”

When Naðr held up his hand, Heidrek jumped down and settled happily on the king’s lap.

Veronica had a second to smile and connect eyes with her sister before Raknar jumped down on the opposite side and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“I claim Veronica as
mine
,” he roared as he strode through the crowd.

It was literally the most 'cave man' moment of her life but she absolutely
loved
every minute of it...especially when he flopped her down on his bed, eyes vicious as he came over. And surprisingly enough, even when he ripped her tunic over her head and cinched her wrists together.

“You’re
mine
,” he whispered against her ear then seized her lobe and stilled.

Veronica became aware of everything from the low crackle of the fire to the wind battering the thatch roof. From the way his long, sweat-slicked body hovered over hers to his hot breath fanning over the tender skin of her neck.

When he pulled away, she made a sound of displeasure, her body eager to keep him close. His fingers spanned her neck then ran down her chest until he seized the encased cylinder and slowly pulled it off then set it aside.

It was the first time she’d been without it but didn’t care.

She was with him.

Raknar trailed his lips over her collarbone, savoring the journey until his tongue trailed between her breasts as he cupped and kneaded them. Powerless to do anything else, she arched into his touch.

Images flickered through her mind. Him fighting. His strong warrior’s body. How much she wanted him. Needed him.

The tattoo on his back.

Veronica made to speak, but his lips swung over one breast then the other before his tongue twirled down her stomach. All she could think at that point was that he attacked a woman’s body much like he did when fighting someone with a blade.

With swift, uncompromising accuracy.

Her eyes fluttered shut when he didn’t remove her pants but pressed his lips against her center through the material. She wasn’t exactly sure what he did, but he made good use of his chin and the surprisingly strong muscle that was his tongue.

Suddenly, he pulled free a dagger and rested its blunt edge against her upper stomach.

When she gasped, he whispered, “Shhh,” and lightly trailed the blade down her prone body until he ran it beneath the top of her pants. “I won’t hurt you, woman. But no sudden movements.”

Then, as if to test her, he nipped at her clit and she fought a jerk, too aware of the cool metal. Eyes pinned on her the whole time, Raknar slowly cut down the center of her pants. Only once the blade sliced enough that she was open to him did he toss it aside.

Veronica might have thought for a moment she could roll away from him but she’d never been so wrong. His mouth was on her fast and furious, ravenous. She cried out as instant climax nearly took hold. But he held back just enough, working his tongue and fingers so deftly that she climbed, climbed, climbed until he kept her hovering.

Needing.

Him.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. Yes, yes,
yes
. Then, possessing evil she didn’t know he had, he pulled away and denied her. Her eyes popped open and she moaned in disappointment, tried to stop him.

A lot of good that did with her hands tied.

Which, oddly enough, only turned her on more.

It seemed Raknar knew exactly what he was doing when he abandoned her on the bed and slowly untied his pants. Eyes hooded, he took his time losing them.

Veronica licked her lips as she eyed him.

Very impressive.

She had thought those exact words the first time they were intimate together. The same ones that hovered on her tongue now.

Yet words weren't what she wanted on her tongue, in her mouth, and well he knew it.

Another gasp escaped when he moved fast and flipped her. Arms over her head, she remained powerless as he ripped off her pants. Then he clenched her ass and growled, hot breath against her left cheek. “Loki’s balls, are you beautiful, woman.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she mumbled but the words came out garbled and incoherent. Mostly because she couldn’t make her mouth work properly as he snaked his hand under, kneading her clit as he nipped and laved his way up her back.

The man didn’t deal in plain old torture. No, he meant to disarm and strip her senses clean away so that she surrendered everything she had.

Raknar pulled her up until she braced on her elbows then came over her. Before he could wedge her knees apart, she did it for him, so eager it hurt. Blood didn’t just pound in her ears but through her entire body as he brushed aside her hair and locked his lips on the side of her neck.

Eyes still closed, lost, she arched and pressed her backside against his groin.

One hand clamped over her tied hands while the other settled between her willing thighs. His fingers flitted between working the flesh at her center while dusting lightly over her stomach. Somehow the tender, barely-there contact pushed her closer and closer to a near frenzy.

“Raknar,” she pleaded, needing more.

But the man was all about teasing as he ground his length between her trembling thighs. She started to shake her head, but he dug his hand into her hair, freezing all movement. Breath gushed from her as he tilted her head and brought his cheek a fraction from hers, all the while thrusting slowly and building her up without entering.

“Veronica,” he whispered close to her ear, tempting, inciting, keeping her on the edge of something he alone controlled.

She tried to respond. Couldn’t. It was too much. He was a million lifetimes beyond too much. A half whimper, half sob broke from her when he spread her legs further and increased his rhythm.

Veronica barely comprehended what he pressed into her hand as he ground out, “You better come back to me.”

Only halfway processing his words, she cried out when he grabbed her hip and thrust deep. She clenched the clothed cylinder in her hands like a lifeline and pressed her cheek against the fur.

After that, his movements weren’t slow and tender but harsh and taking, as though he was determined to drive his words into not only her mind but her flesh. Yet still, the fullness of him, the friction, the plunging thrusts, made a long, low moan start deep down inside. Not just the muscles between her legs but all of those that made up her body started to hum beneath his relentless force.

Even as his hand curled around her tied hands, his other went back to work below, propelling her quickly toward a crescendo she couldn’t avoid if she wanted to. Thrusting hard, fast and deep, he was demanding everything.

When she suddenly peaked and her body locked, a cry echoed on her lips. Time skidded to a halt. Heavy throbs vibrated and pounded out from her center to her outer extremities.

But Raknar wasn't finished yet.

Mercifully, he didn't wait long before he tore her hands free from their bindings, flipped her beneath him and grabbed them again with one hand. Then he locked them above her head as multiple orgasms continued to trip over one another. Though he watched her avidly, she could barely keep her eyes open.

As if determined to keep her vulnerable and needing him, he rolled them on their sides so that they faced one another, lifted her thigh and slid back into her.

Her head lolled forward and she groaned against his skin. Yet this time she wasn’t alone as his groan met hers.

Raknar grabbed her ass tightly and steered the corner of her mouth against his. Then he thrust so deeply they both breathed heavily as their bodies struggled to become one.

Everything after that floated and she entered a world where nothing existed but him and her and…
them
. Where their bodies merged and she no longer thought
I
but
us
.
We
. Not
me
. They moved against one another with a passion totally unfamiliar to her but made of everything she was ever supposed to be.

Raknar rolled her onto her back and braced his hands on either side of her head as he didn’t just thrust but slammed, claimed, and ripped her body apart in unimaginably wonderful ways.

Crazed, wanting to crawl into his skin, she wrapped her legs around him and rolled and twisted her hips up, meeting his every thrust. Their movements became so synchronized and desperate that both grasped, clenched and drove the other closer, closer, closer.

When a strangled roar broke from his mouth and he locked up tight, she cried out, the room twirling with colors as the world flipped and she seized up. Triggered by the feel of his hot, throbbing heat bursting within, the climax was so strong that her legs at first clamped tightly around him before her muscles shook then totally melted.

Raknar trembled and hissed through his teeth as he jerked forward one final time, as though determined to wring out their pleasure and stay as deep as possible. Or maybe it was just a reflex. Either way, it stoked the fire already burning beneath her skin and elongated her impossibly lengthy release.

They stayed that way for a long while, breath ragged, hearts thundering. 

When at last he pulled away, he didn’t go far but lay on his back and tucked her against his side. Veronica draped an arm across his chest and a leg over his. Neither said a word for some time. Just held one another. A gentle stroke here. A gentle stroke there. Though the room had barely righted itself, she was already sifting through the night’s events.

Him.

Them.

This.

Now that her needs had been temporarily assuaged, she was desperate for some answers. Trailing a finger over his chest, she pondered the best way to go about this. Blunt was always a safe bet. “The tattoo on your back changed.”

Raknar didn’t respond right away. She almost thought he had fallen asleep before he at last said, “It changed when we were on Megan’s boat.”

She propped up on her elbow and met his eyes. “Tell me about what it was before.” Her voice grew softer. “Then tell me what it is now.”

Raknar hesitated for a moment before continuing, eyes seeing something she couldn’t. “The women were Aesa and my former wife, Yrsa.”

This was what Megan wouldn’t tell her. This was the truth she needed to understand.

He continued to recap some of what she already knew. “As I’m sure you know, Aesa and Yrsa are two of five seers, all beautiful sisters born at the peak of our highest mountain, Galdhøpiggen. All were highly revered from the moment of their birth. Helga and the Unnamed One remain on the mountain to this day. The others grew restless, but two were braver than the third and left first. One was the seer who ended up with King Rennir’s brother. Many years later both were defeated with help from Adlin MacLomain. The other was Aesa, who came here and fell in love with Naðr Véurr. A few years later, Yrsa followed.”

Though his face remained expressionless, Veronica sensed Raknar’s distress and whispered what she suspected. “But you were already in love with Aesa.”

“Yes,” he breathed, as though it was hard to say. But he had the decency to meet her eyes. “Both Naðr and I were. And though she loved us in return, she was a powerful seer and chose he who would be king over he who would only ever be brother to the king. She felt her services, her place in life, were better suited as queen.”

That sounded heartbreaking…for all parties involved.

“Did you…” How to say this? “Did you and her ever…”

When she trailed off, feeling as though she was going too far, he continued candidly. “Did I have sex with Aesa?”

Veronica nodded, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s the way of our people to share if others desire it. If our women want it. More than that, it’s part of our dragon blood to accept such.”

Though she tried not to, her eyes widened slightly. “So you and Naðr…shared?”

Raknar nodded once. “For a few years after their daughter Meyla was born.”

“We were young,” he provided as if that explained it.

“Ah,” she said softly, her eyes on his as she tried to avoid the mental image of both Raknar and Naðr simultaneously bedding the ghostly woman she’d met. “Did that cause issues between you and Naðr?”

“No,” Raknar said, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Why would it? There was love and honesty between us all.”

Alrighty then. To each their own. Still, this topic brought up a good point. One she should probably address now. “Do you want to sleep with Megan as well? And what about Amber if she ends up here?”

She braced herself for the answer and tried to focus on breathing evenly.

"I only want you, Veronica." Raknar sifted his fingers through her hair, voice gruff and surprisingly tender. "Unless you wish otherwise, I will not share you with my brothers or any other man.”

Something warm and unexpected curled within at the passion in his eyes. He meant it. “I don’t want your brothers, Raknar. Just you while I’m here.” She shook her head slightly. “But you didn’t answer my question in its entirety because there’s no way to know if you’ll want Amber.”

Raknar propped one arm beneath his head and continued to stroke her hair, eyes deadly serious. “Did you not see the tattoo on my back, woman? There is not nor will there ever be another for me.”

Veronica swallowed back emotion. So that
was
her on his back. Had she ever truly doubted it? When she tried to tell him she wouldn’t be coming back, the words died on her lips. There would be time for that later. Right now, her mind was trying to process what he was implying.

Love.

That word had only ever applied to one person and it certainly wasn’t a man.