The Viking's Bride (Viking Warriors Book 1) Read online

  The door bangs open, and Einarr ties off a goat to the railing outside before stomping through the door. The entire house shakes from his steps. The women kneel, but I don’t. I don’t know if this man is worth kneeling for.

  “Leave us,” Einarr commands.

  The women jump to their feet and run out the door, slamming it behind them. Einarr crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “Panicking?”

  “No.” I push my shoulders back and run my hands down the beautiful material of the dress. It’s white and long-sleeved, and it has beautiful detailing around the sweetheart neckline.

  “I don’t take you for a liar, Sassa.”

  “Why aren’t you rowing a boat with Grim?” I snip and bunch the train of my dress in my hands to swish to the side so I can sit down.

  “I hunt for him.” He tilts his head at me like I’m the dumb one for asking the question. “Why are you like this?” he asks.

  “I’m not like anything.”

  “You are afraid. I smelled your fear outside.”

  “You smelled my fear?” I ask with disbelief. I believe that just as much as I believe I can best him in a fight.

  “Aye,” is all he says — a man of many words, this one.

  I sigh and plop down on a chair, staring at myself in the mirror. I run my hands over the intricate braid one of the women placed in my hair. It is beautiful. “I never imagined this is how my life would be. I’ve always known what I wanted, and now I feel as though what I want and what is being forced on me is meshing. I don’t like it. I don’t know Grim. I hate that we are coming together so fast. I hate that he only wanted me for power.”

  Einarr’s powerful legs carry him over to me and stand in front of the mirror. His heavy biceps flex as he crosses his arms.

  “I don’t do this,” he growls. His eyes are hard, and he stares at me with a bit of annoyance. “He is marrying you because I’ve never seen him want another like this. He is also marrying you to protect you. That Jackal isn’t the only person that will want to take you. Grim can protect you. And with your father’s protection and the new alliance, no one will touch us, including you. Plus, he is a possessive bastard.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I say.

  “You’ll be fine,” Einarr says and reaches out a hand. He pats my shoulder with so much force; it nearly knocks me off my chair. His attempt to comfort me is awkward, though if I may say, it is also rather adorable. Einarr doesn’t do well with feelings, but he tries. And that’s what matters.

  “If you say so.”

  He cocks his head again and lifts a brow, squinting his eyes at me in question. “It is. I just said so. A few moments ago. Didn’t you hear me?”

  I slap my hand against my forehead and sigh. So literal. “I did, yes. Anyway, thank you, Einarr.”

  He clenches his fists and presses his knuckles against the meat of his thighs. His knuckles crack as he pushes himself up, making me shrink back from his size. He is a very large man. He grunts as he leaves and when he opens the door, the goat bellows.

  He slams the door again, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Dangerous, considering how the day has gone.

  The women filter back in, and this time, I smile. “Apologies for earlier. I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Sassa.”

  “I’m Leidra,” the beautiful redhead says with a smile.

  “Aimi,” another woman waves, but she has dark eyes, and black hair to match. Her skin is pale, and her beauty is ethereal. She almost looks elfin.

  “Britanna,” says a woman with long hair so blonde, it almost seems white. She smiles, and it brightens her thin face, making her blue eyes shine brighter. Her skin has a more olive complexion than the others. She is absolutely gorgeous.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you. I apologize for earlier,” I repeat.

  “It’s alright. I can only imagine how nervous you are. Grim is such an intimidating man.”

  “And a handsome one,” Britanna adds.

  “Oh, very. Many of the women in the village had their eyes on him, but he wants nothing to do with them.” Leidra grabs another section of my hair and starts braiding it.

  Her words grab my attention. “Really? Why is that?”

  Britanna grabs the hem of my dress and stitches some of the loose ends. “No one knows. But you are different from the women here. And Grim has always been a man who loves… diversity.”

  “He likes a challenge. He doesn’t want a woman who bends to his will. I thought that much was obvious.” Aimi takes a small brush and combs it through my lashes, applying black liquid to make them thicker.

  I blink a few times. My lashes are sticking together, and it burns. Is it supposed to burn? “I don’t like this.” I keep blinking to try to alleviate the burn. This is why I never do this. Ever.

  “It will stop in a moment. Stop being a baby,” Aimi teases with a cute grin, showing her dimples. “All done.”

  “Thank you, ladies. I appreciate it.” My voice shakes from the nerves. In a few hours, I’ll be married, and I’ll have to consummate the marriage. I’m nervous about that. He probably has so much experience if my memory serves correctly.

  The door bangs open again from a strong gust of wind. A swirl of snow drapes over the floorboards, and the chill in the air makes me shiver. The veil of the fallen ice slowly reveals a man in furs with shoulder-length hair. When he breaks the fog and enters the house, my body ignites, responding to his presence.

  “The weather is awful. I won’t have my bride in weather like this. Bring everything to my home. Food, drinks, we shall celebrate here before this weather gets any worse.”

  “But sir, the tradition,” Aimi starts to say, but silences as Grim gives her an expression that could kill.

  “I know what the tradition is. And I don’t want my bride to freeze. The lake started to freeze on the row back over. We barely made it to shore. I won’t have Sassa in that. Do I make myself clear?”

  “We could just wait until winter is over,” Aimi presses, trying to give advice to the warlord, but he isn’t having it.

  “I will not wait months to marry my bride. Get out. All of you, get out!” he shouts, and for some reason, I also think he is talking about me.

  I grab the train of my dress and follow the others out when his arm blocks my path out of the door. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  “You said for everyone to leave…” My breaths come out in harsh pants as his scent drifts over to me. He smells smoky, like winter and wood.

  “I can’t get married without you there, Princess.”

  “I thought… I thought you wanted to follow tradition.”

  “If I wanted to follow tradition, I would have married a woman in this village. Not a woman of royalty.” His index finger slides down my jaw. “Such a beauty.”

  I shut my eyes and relish in his touch. I’m surprised by how gentle he can be. His hands have seen such darkness, have held so much death. Even the rough feel of the skin, I can feel the pain held into the thick, hardened patches of flesh. So many battles won, so many lives lost.

  “Are you ready to be mine?” The rough scratch of his voice makes my spine tingle.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, and that is complete honesty, but I do know that I don’t want to be anywhere else. “I think I’ve always been yours, Grim.”

  “I think you may be right.”

  My eyes flutter open to see him staring at me with such intensity; the cold blue of his eyes freeze me in place. He takes my hand and leads me over to the fireplace. The flames are roaring high, and people start to arrive with kegs of beer and a freshly-roasted hog.

  “Alright!” Einarr’s voice booms over the loud noise of everyone’s voices. “Your King is getting married. Have some respect.” Einarr lays out a piece of parchment and a quill on the table in front of us.

  This is it. One minute I’m getting my hair done, the next I’m about to marry a Viking. Alright, I can do this.

  Everyone quiet
s down, leaving us to recite our vows.

  “I, Grimkael Hohlt, Warlord of Viking, take ye, Sassa Leif, as my wife. Ye’ll be my blood, my bone, my flesh. Ye’ll be my strength when I find weakness in battle. Ye’ll own me, in blood, in bone, in flesh.” He cuts the inside of his palm and squeezes it over a wine goblet. A few droplets fall in, mixing with the drink.

  “I, Sassa Leif, Daughter of His Majesty King Erik Leif of the North, take you, Grimkael Hohlt, Warlord of the Vikings, as my husband. You’ll be my blood, my bone, my flesh. You’ll be my comfort when I find none. You’ll own me, in blood, in bone, in flesh.” I take the small knife and slice a small cut into my palm, dripping it over the goblet as he did.

  Standing here in front of him and everyone else, I never thought I’d agree to this. I had my life figured out, but Grim came and bulldozed right through it. At first, I wasn’t sure of him, but then I got a taste of the real world. While brief, it let me know that any feelings I have toward Grim, while positive and maybe a little infuriating, are better than fear.

  I know I can grow to love him because of the way he makes me feel, the way he looks at me, and the way he accepts me. I’m already halfway there, and it has only been a few days. I can’t imagine what a few years will bring.

  Grim takes the goblet in his hand and takes a massive swig until he has wine dripping down his chin. He gives me the goblet next and knowing I’m about to drink blood makes me squint my eyes, but when the sweet flavor of the wine bursts across my tongue, I can’t even taste it. I finish the wine, and Grim takes the back of my head and pulls me to his lips, licking the residue of the sweet grapes off my mouth.

  He grunts as he plunges his tongue inside my mouth, taking me like a true barbarian in front of everyone. I groan down his throat, and his hands roam down the round globes of my ass, giving it a good squeeze. Liquid heat pools between my legs, sending an ache throbbing in my clit.

  Now that we are married, I hope he does something about how he affects my body. Everyone hollers, whistles, and yells, stomping their feet against the old wood of the cabin, replicating thunder. I smile under his kiss, and I’m about to meet his lips for a final peck when a loud shatter of glass hits the side of the cabin.

  I jump into the safety of his arms. Everything goes quiet. No one breathes. No one moves.

  Until the next glass shatters.

  I tilt my head up and see Grim’s nostrils flare. “What’s happening?” my voice trembles.

  The window behind me shatters. Grim spins, pushing us out of the way from the sharp shards of glass. I scream, but it is muffled by the sound of his chest. Soon, a roaring fire breaks over the furs lying on the floor that I slept on last night. Grim lifts his head up, shielding me with his arm. Smoke plummets in the cabin, the one place that is supposed to be my home. My new home. People are screaming and running outside in the chaos.

  “Einarr! Take her!” Grim yells.

  “No!” I scream until my throat bleeds, trying to pull out of Einarr’s grasp. I kick and scream, inhaling big gulps of smoke and ash. My eyes burn. My skin is hot from the flames licking the ceiling, and now I can’t seem Grim, my new husband. “Grim! Grim!” I cry as loud as I can, but no one answers.

  “We must get out of here,” Einarr says, throwing me over his shoulder. He strides to the other side of the house and kicks the door open. Smoke is sucked out by the air entering, and it feeds the hunger of the fire. The blaze gets larger, following us with its searing tentacles.

  “No, I refuse to leave without Grim!” I punch Einarr’s back, trying to get him to let me go, but he plops me down on the ground, squeezing my arms until there is a pinch of pain.

  “You shall—” but he stops speaking, his eyes wide with shock and then anger. He looks down, and I follow his gaze, only to be horrified. There’s an arrow in the right upper quadrant of his stomach. “Go!” he wheezes. “Run!"

  The giant man falls onto his knees, clutching the wound with his hand. He snaps the arrow in half and pulls the other end out of his body, only to have another arrow replace it.

  “Einarr, I’m not leaving you. Come on; we must go. We must get out of here!” I try to pull him and to drag him, but he is just too heavy.

  “Leave me.”

  Tears fall down my face as his face loses color. “I’m not going anywhere.” I cup his face with my hand, watching my husband’s closest friend die.

  “I’m not either,” he says with a bloody smile. “It shall take more than this to kill me!” He coughs, but I see the doubt in his eyes. He doesn’t believe what he says.

  “I’m still not going anywhere.”

  He takes my hand and uses it to pull himself up until he is nose to nose with me. “You must run. Leave me. That’s an order.”

  “You can’t order me. I’m the warlord’s wife.”

  “I can when your life is in danger. Go!” he roars.

  I scurry back, and as I stand on my feet, I stumble back and fall against a hard body. I turn around to see a man with the same symbol the other man had seared into his neck.

  “Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”

  He gives me a wicked, terrifying grin and throws a bag over my head before quickly tying my hands together and then to my waist. Effectively making it impossible to lift my arms. In the distance, I hear my name being screamed, but it disappears as the man lifts me in the air. I let out my own raging call for help.

  I get thrown against something hard and rough. The skin of my legs brush against it, and I cry out in agony, causing me to whimper. Hinges creak, and metal bars lock. The sharp click of a gate closing lets me know I’m trapped.

  I can’t see anything. It’s so dark. I cry for Grim. Screaming his name, hoping he can hear me, wherever I may be. It smells horrible, like death and smoke. Whatever I’m in starts to move, and the sound of heavy hooves carry me away.

  Away from my new home.

  Away from my new life.

  Away from Einarr, dying alone.

  I sob into the black hood they put over my head. I press my head against the wall behind me and weep as I get taken to another realm of what someone wants my life to be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grim

  “Sassa!” I cup my hands by my mouth and shout her name. “Sassa!” I yell over the cries of my people. Everywhere I look, there is carnage, flame, and smoke. “Sassa!” the loud bark of her name sounds desperate, almost like a plea.

  A warlord never pleads, but I will, just for her. “Sassa,” I whisper, stumbling through the remains of my home. Those damn Jackals. I’ll kill them all. I’ll kill every single last one of them until I walk through the river of blood until I find her. Until I get vengeance for what they did to my home. To my wife.

  The heat of the wood infiltrates my boots as I push the debris around. I don’t know what I’ll do if I find her laying in the ash and embers of what is supposed to be our home together. I make a left, where the back door used to be, and I hear a groan.

  The sound stops me in my tracks, and I turn my head so that my ear is closer to where I think I heard it. After a few moments, I don’t hear anything except the screams of the injured and the silence of the dead.

  I grip the sides of my head and roar at the demolished surroundings, falling onto my knees as I drop my head in my hands. I’m the worst warlord in history. I can’t believe I let my people get ambushed. My wife stolen from me. I should have been more vigilant.

  A low groan sounds again, and I whip my head to the left, then the right, and see a figure lying on its stomach. Another painful moan comes from that direction, and I get to my feet, slipping against the leaves as I run over to the man. But as I get closer, I notice the tattoos on the side of his head.

  “No,” I whisper with denial. I skid to a stop beside him and turn him over. “No, no, no. Brother,” I plea, “what did they do to you?”

  “Grim…” He lifts his hand, and I grip it with dear life.

  “What is it, Einarr?”

 
; “Sassa,” he coughs, a burst of blood splashing onto his lips. “They took her. I tried. I didn’t—”

  “Shh, it’s fine. It’s alright. You shall be fine.”

  “I’m dying,” he says.

  “But you shall not die. I’ll be right back.” I hate to leave him alone, but I must if there is a chance I can save his life. I grab my sword from my sheath and run to the nearest flame, holding it over the scolding heat. He shall hate me for doing this.

  Once the metal turns orange, I run back over to Einarr and slap his face a few times when I see that his eyes are closed.

  “Aye, I’m awake. Don’t go slapping the soon-to-be dead.”

  “Don’t even joke like that.” I double-check the blade to make sure it is still hot. It’s glowing a bright orange still. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and tear the material of his blood-soaked shirt. “This is going to hurt.” I gag him with the cloth, and his eyes widen when he sees me lift the sword in the air.

  Einarr nods and shuts his eyes as hard as he can. He tries to prepare himself for the impending pain.

  “I’m so sorry, Brother,” I whisper, before taking my fingers and separating the wound. I don’t care how tough a man is, the pain he is about to feel, no man can handle. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, shoving the hot blade into his wound.

  The smell of burning flesh makes me gag. Einarr screams, and then there’s nothing but silence. I look over to see that he has passed out. “Thank the gods,” I mutter, searing the outside of the wound before moving over to the next one. His skin is black and bubbled. If he doesn’t die from infection, he just may live. I flip him over and do the same thing to the wounds on his back, all the while he is still passed out. Good thing.

  “Come on, you big oaf.” My knees buckle as I pick him up and carry him to another home that isn’t ruined by flames.

  Sweat pours down my face, and my legs threaten to give out from the strain. I’m a big man, but he is bigger. I walk as fast as I can to where the injured have gathered, while nurses run all around, bringing the wounded men inside the medical cabin and tending to the injured.