Claimed by Her Viking Wolf Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2015 Doris O’Connor

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-602-3

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Kimberly,

  This is for you with thanks for the inspiration and all the yummy pictures you always post in the chicks. Hope you like 'your' story.

  CLAIMED BY HER VIKING WOLF

  Vikings Through Time, 1

  Doris O’Connor

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  “Did you hear that?” Lisa’s shrill voice broke the stillness of the early morning mist. Kimberly groaned into her coffee, and upended the dregs of it into the campfire. They sizzled, and her sister wrinkled her nose, whilst inching closer to her new boyfriend.

  “The only thing I can hear is you bitching in my ears,” Kim said. For the umpteenth time she wished herself far away.

  She’d known taking Lisa along on this camping trip had been a mistake. Her younger, far too flighty, sister didn’t do the great outdoors. No one had been more surprised than Kim when she’d shown up at her cottage, with this Sam in tow. He was cute, if you liked the clean-shaven boy band look, which Kim so didn’t. Apparently Sam fancied himself somewhat of an explorer. In an effort to impress him, Lisa had arranged for this trip with Kim as their guide.

  After all no one knew the Northumberland National Park as well as Kim. It was her escape, somewhere where she could immerse herself in nature, and pretend she lived in simpler times. Annoying tourists notwithstanding, the tours nicely supplemented the income she made from writing her historical novels. Right now, Kim sure wished she was back in the past, and not here, witnessing her sister making a fool of herself over this boy.

  “No, I heard something growl over there, I’m sure.” Lisa made an exaggerated arm movement. She glared into the shrubbery, whilst inching sideways toward Sam, who got to his feet, and brandishing his survival knife swung it through the air as though he was slaying imaginary demons.

  “I’ll go see,” he said.

  Kim, too, rose, and with a twist of her hand on his wrist, disarmed the damn fool. The shiny, never used knife embedded itself into the grass by their feet, and she gave it a kick for good measure.

  “Don’t be an idiot. You’ll hurt yourself brandishing that about. I’ll go see, but I’m sure there’s nothing there.”

  “You can’t talk to Sam like that.” Lisa’s affronted tone grated on her last nerves. Kim spun round to give her a piece of her mind, when she heard it. The low, pained growl of an animal in pain. It made the hair on her neck stand up to attention, while both Sam and Lisa took several steps back in horror.

  “See, I told you there was something there. You never should have taken us here. God, we’re about to be attacked by some wild beast—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Kim interrupted her. “There are no wild beasts in Northumberland. Even if there were, they’d have more sense than to come close to an open fire and especially humans. Or what classes for humans these days.” She glanced at the lily faced Sam and smirked. Kim laughed inwardly at the way he puffed out his chest. If that sorry excuse of a male ever came face to face with any wild animal he would no doubt pee himself.

  Her amusement fled when another, much more menacing, growl came from the undergrowth. Whatever that animal was, it was hurt, which made it dangerous.

  “Well, in any case I think we should leave.” Sam took another step back.

  “Oh. Excellent idea. This was fun, but I’m ready to go home now.” Lisa smiled up at him. When she pulled his head down for a kiss, Kim turned her back on them. Shame she couldn’t turn her hearing off, too. It had been bad enough last night listening to them in the tent next to her. She hadn’t needed the audible reminder that, at least, boy or not, her sister had a sex life. Something that was sadly lacking from Kim’s existence. With another glance into the shrubbery, she agreed.

  “Fine, I’ll pack up. You two head off.”

  “We can’t just leave you here on your own.” Sam disentangled himself from her sister’s clutches, and Kim had to laugh at Lisa’s pout.

  “It’s fine, just go. Lisa is itching to get out of here, I know. Follow the trail down to the car park. You can’t miss it. I’ll follow when I’m done here.” Another low rumble made her add, “Or I might just stay a while. There’s something I want to explore.” Digging into her jeans she pulled out the keys to her cottage and threw them at Sam.

  “Let yourself in. Treat the place as your own.”

  When Sam still hesitated, Lisa grabbed his arm to pull him away.

  “You heard her. Kim spends half her life out here. She always has done. You know with her gone, we can have so much fun.” The last bit of that sentence was added in a dramatic whisper that made Kim roll her eyes. Turning her back on them, she set to dismantling their tent.

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  Kim waved her hand in a dismissive fashion, and breathed a sigh of relief, when she heard the two of them get ready to leave.

  “Erm, the trail is where?”

  Giving up all pretense of dismantling the tent, Kim wordlessly rose to guide them back to the main path. It took much longer than it should have done, thanks to her companions’ slow progress. She breathed a sigh of relief when they trundled down it with enough noise for a herd of freaking elephants.

  Finally, peace. Of course, knowing them they might well get lost on the way down, but there would be enough folks milling about to turn them in the right direction if they did. Kim could only hope they hadn’t scared that wounded animal completely. Not that she was exactly sure what she would do with it when she found it, but that deep growl haunted her.

  Something wasn’t right, and she had to find out what was going on. What she didn’t expect when she made it back to the clearing was to see a half-naked man sitting by her fire. His long brown hair was tied back with a strip of leather, and the fire drew patterns over the huge sword by his leather-clad thighs. Muscles rippled in his bare back, as he stoked the embers of the fire to renewed life with one arm. The action revealed the swirls of a tattoo down one side of his torso, some ancient design that made her throat go dry with an impending sense of doom. She’d seen those before in her research into old Viking customs. The clothing he wore certainly matched that era, but that was impossible. There were no Viking re-enactments planned that she knew of. Plus they sure as heck wouldn’t be taking place here, so far off the beaten track. So who was this, and why was he here?

  The stranger swung his head round when she stepped on a twig in her approach. The animalistic rumble that rose from his chest, as he swung his sword in a defensive move, made her heart stop. It was the angry, weeping gash in his side, however, that made her forget all her misgivings. Especially, when he staggered under the weight of his sword, and almost took a step back into the fire.

  “Jesus, be careful.”

  Not caring about her own safety, she grabbed him ‘round the waist to yank him back from the fire. He stumbled again with a muttered Norse curse, which she recognized all too well, before he slumped to his knees. The action buried his head in her breasts, and she swayed under h
is weight. Somehow she managed to hold onto him, as he lost consciousness. Kim lowered him down as gently as she could. The man had to be over six foot three of bulky muscle, and she whistled through her teeth when she took in the myriad of scars that marred his torso. Not that she could admire those muscles in any detail. He was losing too much blood from the angry gash in his side that looked as though he’d been in a sword fight. Judging by the heat emanating from him, he was running a fever. Sure enough when she brought her hand to his forehead, he was burning up. Hallucinating, too, if the muttered Norse words she caught were to be believed.

  If he was an actor, then he sure believed in immersing himself in the part, not that she had time to ponder this at this moment. A quick check of her mobile confirmed what she already knew. No reception whatsoever out here. Besides, he needed tending now.

  Ignoring the flutters in her stomach and the growing sense of unease crawling up her spine, Kim riffled through her back pack for her first aid kit, giving mental thanks for her foresight in bringing the more substantial one along. She’d expected to have to use it for Lisa or Sam, not some Norse god who seemed to have landed, quite literally, in her bosom.

  Using a whole unopened bottle of water to clean the blood away, she was relieved to see that the cut, while bleeding heavily, seemed to be superficial only. Having smoothed on antiseptic, she applied a pressure bandage to stop it bleeding. It would do, until she could get him back to civilization, but he would need to wake up for that. There was no way she could even drag this mountain of a man anywhere, so instead she proceeded to wash the rest of him as best she could, before she put some more coffee on to brew.

  Nothing for it but to wait for him to come ‘round, and to try not to ogle the unconscious man too much. An action which proved nigh on impossible. A thick tawny beard covered the lower half of what seemed to be a proud face. Strong eyebrows, impossibly long lashes that feathered across his cheeks in his slumber, a thick neck, huge shoulders, and a torso sprinkled with just the right amount of hair. Thick leather bands graced his wrists, and the silver ring he wore on one index finger held some form of crest. His family or village crest no doubt. Kim’s head came up at the thought.

  He isn’t really Norse, you fool.

  He couldn’t be, even if all indications led to that conclusion. Even in his unconscious state there was something far too earthy and primal about this man, not related to the twenty-first century. His calloused hands and well defined muscles, not to mention the scars, spoke of a man used to manual labor, while the coarse stitching on his leggings spoke of earlier times. No zippers, or other shortcuts she was used to seeing on the folks who took part in re-enactments. The incredibly heavy and bloody sword that lay abandoned next to the fire spoke its own tale.

  Had it not been for the occasional airplane going overhead, which seemed to disturb him even in his slumber if his mutterings about witchcraft were anything to go by, she’d have thought she’d somehow traveled back in time.

  But that was impossible.

  So, if she was still here in her time, did that mean he was displaced?

  ****

  Asger drifted in out of consciousness, all too aware of the soft, feminine hands tending to his injuries. It was her scent that had first alerted his inner beast to her whereabouts. Through the haze of pain and confusion he’d woken up in, unable to shift in these strange, cursed lands, it had drawn him like a beacon of hope. His wolf hadn’t liked that man with her one little bit. The animal’s incessant growling had eventually drawn their attention to him, come morning.

  Had he not been so worried about whatever witchcraft had dragged him here, he’d have taken the competition out in a heartbeat, and dragged his kona back to his place—if only he knew where his place was.

  So, instead, he’d lain in wait and not emerged until her companions had left. The fire had drawn him, weakened as he was, with the promise of food and shelter, not to mention her alluring scent, which overlaid all else, now that the others had left.

  Damn his cursed injury that had made him stumble and fall into her brjóst like a helpless barn. He watched her now from under hooded lids, as she pulled closer together the flaps of the covering she seemed to have erected over them against the fine rain that fell and threatened to douse the fire. She inched closer to him, muttering to herself in that strange language she used. Holding up the little black box he’d seen her stare at countless times high up into the air, she cursed and threw it into the back of the shelter. An eerie glow emanated from it, as though it was some form of firefly, before it went dark. Definite witchcraft afoot, which would explain why he still couldn’t shift. He swallowed his animal’s growl, but she must have heard it anyway, because her head spun around. Green eyes connected with his. A frown marred her pixie-like features. Despite the pain in his side, his loins stirred, when she flung her mass of strawberry blonde curls over one shoulder, while she leaned in closer to inspect his side. The pressure she used hurt like a fucking bitch, and he grunted.

  She mumbled something that sounded like an apology, then froze when she noticed he was watching her.

  “Hey, awoken you’ve last at.”

  His eyebrows rose at the jumble of dialects and words she used, but at least she seemed to have some command of his language.

  Asger tried to answer her, but nothing but a strangled groan left his lips. She quickly raised some form of see-through container to his lips. He glared at the odd thing, but dutifully drank what turned out to be water. This time he managed to form a response.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  Her eyes widened at his reply. When he made a move toward his sword, she jumped up and kicked it away.

  His furious growl in answer made her startle, but when he struggled upright, and swayed, she came back to wrap her arms around his torso in support.

  She lapsed into her own language, as she urged him back down and into the tent. Asger allowed her to do so grudgingly. In truth the whole damn place seemed to move from under him, and he cursed this weakness. He’d endured far worse injuries and healed, but he needed to shift to do so. Try as he might he couldn’t summon his wolf. His animal was as frustrated as he was at being caged. It made him push this kona away. Regardless of what his instincts screamed at him, he would not, could not allow himself to think of her as his. For all he knew she might well be the one who had bewitched him, so he hardened his heart. Asger blocked her renewed effort to touch him by grasping hold of her wrists, and flinging them away.

  Not that she took any notice. With a feminine growl of her own, she advanced again, while she pulled out a long white strip of clean material out of her curious looking satchel, and launched into a little speech.

  Asger didn’t understand a word, but judging by the way she kept pointing at his side, she wanted to tend to him. With one hand on the hidden dagger in his belt, which he discovered she hadn’t taken off him, he glanced down to where she was pointing. He frowned at the blood-stained bandage.

  “Please. Help … do not fool be.”

  Her attempt to get through to him in his language made him grin, despite the inherent insult she’d just bestowed on him. Pulling out his dagger he pointed it at her. While she flinched, keeping a wary eye on his weapon, her green eyes flashed fire at him, and he was pretty sure he had just been cursed in whatever language she called her own.

  He could pick up the odd word, which sounded familiar. Clearly, whatever language she spoke still held traces of his. Again he wondered where on earth he was. For a language to evolve and change like this took time. A hell of a lot of time. He hurt too damn much to have made it to Valhöll, which left only one conclusion. Asger had somehow traveled in time, just like the ancient one had foretold he would at the last feast.

  Asger had never been one to believe blindly in the runes and their prophecies, but how else could he explain what had happened? The roar from above made him look up briefly. Not that he could see the big shiny bird like thing that seemed capable of flight, not
through the gloomy drizzle that steadily got worse, but he recognized that unearthly sound.

  “Shhh, all, well. Just airplane.”

  His flame haired rescuer touched his bicep briefly to get his attention, which made a jolt of recognition hit him in the gut. His wolf sat up and howled, desperate to burst free from his body. Asger’s half erect cock hardened with a speed that left him lightheaded, like a sweinbarn, who hadn’t yet managed to control that body part. It only served to cement the bone deep knowledge that he was here for this kona, which in theory meant he could trust her. Besides, had she meant him harm, she could have easily dispatched him ten times over when he had been out of it.

  Nevertheless, he shook his head, regarding her warily, as she pointed up to the rain sodden sky, spread her arms out and repeated that strange word.

  “Airplane.”

  “Airplane?” He repeated what she’d just said. When she nodded and smiled at him, his gut tightened in need. That smile lit up her face, as though the sun had come out from behind a storm cloud, so he said that word again.

  “Airplane.” She nodded. Asger said it several more times, rolling the syllables around his tongue.

  “Kimberly.” His gaze followed her arm movements, as she brought them back to her side and then pointed to her chest. “That’s my nafn.” She smiled again, while she nodded to him. “Minn nafn, Kimberly, well, Kim. Your nafn?”

  Asger’s lips kicked up into a grim smile at her terrible pronunciation, but he dipped his head and gave her what he wanted.

  “Asger,” he said. “Asger, sonr Liufr.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time. When she worried the plump contours of her bottom lip with her teeth, he gave into instinct and pulled the flesh away from harm with his fingers.