Viking Heart (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 3) (18 page)

He pressed the blade tighter. “Don’t test me, bitch.”

Amber trembled and did her best not to give in to fear as men started rowing ferociously and the ship pulled away from the dock. They didn’t go far before the sail was released. The moment it unfurled the ship leapt. Desperate, she looked back but could barely make out a thing save several dark figures on the end of the dock.

Then balls of fire started shooting through the darkness. Only when one thumped into the mast on an enemy ship alongside them did she realize they were fire-lit arrows. She was amazed by how many met their target considering the wind shear.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

They were raining down everywhere except over their ship.

Relieved, she realized they must know exactly which boat she was on.

“Release your arrows,” Alrek bellowed. Amber was surprised she still understood him considering her stone was so far away.

The sails on several ships were already going up in flames, but men stood steady and started shooting arrows back toward the shore. Others were splashing buckets of sea water over the fires in desperation, but even Amber could see it was a losing battle. Masts started to crack and crash down. Ships burst into flames and lolled. The putrid smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils as cries of pain rent the air and men started jumping overboard. Her stomach flipped and bile rose in her throat.

“God, Alrek’s not going to try to save any of his own men is he?” she croaked.

This was worse than horrific.

Amber put a hand over her mouth as death rained around her. She might not be a fan of anyone who was against the Sigdir brothers and their people, but she wasn’t above saying a prayer for all the souls being lost.

Then she thought of the men who had been fighting her sisters, who meant them harm as well as the baby and likely Heidrek. These beasts chose to follow a monster so she only had so much sympathy. It was these thoughts and the anger they invoked that Amber focused on now. Because if she let the surrounding horror show or the certain knowledge that their ship was getting away take precedence, she’d probably lose it.

If her sisters had taught her anything, it was that panicking got you nowhere.

Strength and courage did.

On and on the destruction went until she was forced to face her fear of the dark once more. The last of the ships had sunk and the dim lights of shore vanished. Cloying darkness wrapped around them as the boat plowed forward.

Her heart hammered and her throat went dry. Amber squeezed her eyes shut and tried to keep from shaking. She knew her fear was ridiculous, but it was something that she hadn’t been able to let go of since she was little.

Amber reflected on the past.

They often lost power during the winter months on the beach. And one of those times her sisters hadn’t been home. She supposed they’d been sleeping over a friend’s house because in those days nobody wanted to be home. But Amber was too little to be at a friends, and so she was in her room that particular night. The night her world changed.

The night Mom left Dad.

Their fighting had frightened her. Then she heard her Mom’s final declaration before the front door slammed and she was gone. Moments later the power went out and she was plunged into darkness. It felt as though a veil of finality had been thrown over her. The world was ripped away. Everything that made sense was gone. Or at least it seemed that way at the time.

Ever since then she’d had an unavoidable fear of the dark. It always brought her back to that terrifying moment when everything had been taken from her. A place she never wanted to revisit.

Then, the tattoo on her wrist tingled faintly and she swore she heard Kol’s words whisper through her mind.
“Have no fear. There’s a light at the end of your tunnel. You’re not alone, Little Dove. Stay strong. I’m coming after you.”
She prayed it wasn’t her imagination, that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She not only
wanted
it to be him, she
needed
it to be him. More than she had ever needed anything before.

Amber released a shaky breath. She found strength in his words…in his promise. Terrified but unable to cry, she worked to stay calm and focused on the blade pressed against her neck. She
refused
to allow it to make her feel powerless but instead imagined how she would soon learn to use it. How she would thrust it into Tony’s gut. Because hell if she wouldn’t if given half a chance.

Alrek murmured quietly amongst his men and though she strained to hear his words over the wind, it was impossible. Hours went by. All the while Tony kept the blade to her neck. All the while darkness pressed in on her.

It was the longest, most terrible night of her life. Though she didn’t hear him again, Amber kept focusing on Kol’s words, on the light at the end of her tunnel that she knew would be him.

The snow finally stopped and the dim glow of twilight touched the horizon as Alrek plunked down beside her. His eyes met hers. “You going to be a good girl if Tony removes that dagger? Because if you scream, I’ll have him cut your tongue out. Do you understand?”

Amber jerked her head, all too aware of the blade.

Alrek nodded and Tony pulled the dagger away. Amber stifled a cry when the king ripped away her cloak and pulled her onto his lap. He grabbed her hair with one hand while the other came around her throat, squeezing lightly before his hand trailed down her chest.

All too aware of the erection pressed against her backside, Amber trembled and ground her jaw when he palmed her breast with appreciation. It seemed he enjoyed taunting her. “So you’re the one meant for the youngest dragon, eh? He’s well known with the women, that one.”

“Kol
‘the lucky’
.” Alrek snorted. “I didn’t believe anyone could be that lucky until I heard
she
wanted him." He ran the back of his knuckles along her jawline, eyes roaming her face. “And now he’s supposed to get you as well? Too much luck for any one man.” His slippery eyes went to Tony. “Don’t you agree?”

Tony nodded and licked his lips as he watched Alrek’s hand on her chest. She jerked when the king suddenly ripped the material. Not so much to expose her but enough to truly put the fear of God in her. She eyed her surroundings. There had to be at least thirty fierce looking men on the ship. And far too many had interested eyes turned her way.

“Where is it?” Alrek growled.

Alarmed, her eyes shot to him as he ran his hands around her neck and over her chest.

“W-what?” she stammered. But she knew and had never been more thankful for her quick thinking.

“The rock and cylinder,” he ground out. Amber yelped in pain when he stood, yanked her by the hair and slammed her back against the center mast. The wind knocked out of her. Stars flickered in her vision as he held her in place with a hand wrapped around her throat. Eyes mere slits, his voice was dark and dangerous as he enunciated each word. “Where. Are. They?”

Amber knew she was screwed no matter what she said at this point. She might not be able to save herself, but she could keep her sisters and the Sigdir brothers safe. So she shrugged and shook her head, whispering, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alrek must have seen the resignation and defiance in her eyes because fury crawled over his features. “Mark my words, I will get them one way or another.” He started to rip away the strings on her pants. “Until then my men and I will get something else altogether from you, you sneaky little bitch.”

Her heart hammered. Sweat broke out on her brow. Oh no. Please no. Not this. Amber tried to struggle against him, but he only squeezed her windpipe tighter.

“Three enemy ships on the horizon,” a man roared. “Fast approaching!”

“The sail is up. We’re moving as quickly as we can,” another man said. “What are your orders, my King?”

The corner of his lips hooked up as Alrek grabbed her wrists, slammed them against the mast over her head and brought a dagger to her throat. “Turn and fight!”

The men hesitated but not for long. The ship lurched and started to turn. Meanwhile, the dagger was shaking against her neck but not piercing her skin. Shocked, she realized the king was trying to slice her throat but something was stopping him.

“Damn demi-god,” he ground out.

Kjar? An odd mix of terror and relief blew through her as she prayed the shipwright kept doing whatever he was doing. Frustrated but apparently out of time, Alrek pulled away as the ships closed in fast.

She had never seen a more welcoming sight. With intricately carved dragon prows and striped sails, they were back-dropped by a deep purple sky. Between them all, over a hundred helmeted Viking warriors were bearing down on them. Legs weak and trembling, she slid down against the mast and tried to pull herself together.

Her eyes widened when Alrek started mumbling in a language she didn’t understand and made symbols in the air. Black smoke started to twist around him until he appeared nothing more than a small twister. His men watched, stunned, as the smoke dissipated.

Their king was gone.

He had abandoned them.

The men released a steady flow of Norse curses but quickly got back to fighting. Amber noticed that while they fired arrows at the enemy ships, like earlier none were fired back at them. Instead, the warriors on the incoming ships were a solid wall of shields. Eventually, Alrek’s men ran out of arrows. When they did, the others knew it.

The three ships closed in and came alongside. Roars rose up but none as loud as the man who leapt into the boat. He might be wearing a helmet with a piece of metal that ran down the center of his face, but there was no mistaking the ferocious obsidian eyes.

Kol.

Dressed in a sleeveless, black leather jerkin and pants, his tattooed muscular arms became a lethal weapon as he swung both a double-edged axe and a sword as he took up arms in front of her. Within moments, Kjar jumped down beside him, a wild look in his eyes as he started to slowly swing an axe round and round over his head.

Jesus, look at the two of them.

If she were the enemy, she’d be jumping overboard.

Amber flinched as metal started clanging. Though Kjar was certainly a sight to see, her worried eyes stayed locked on Kol. Fear lodged in her throat as far too many warriors rushed him. But she soon realized he could more than take care of himself. He spun once, running his axe across the guts of two men while running his sword through another.

When one of the warriors fell nearby, she leaned over and yanked a dagger out of his hand then slowly stood, back against the mast. Palms slick, she held up the dagger and kept scanning all sides of her.

Only then did she realize nobody else was boarding. Instead, the ships were cozied around theirs. Naðr’s men formed a wall, weapons at the ready, arrows trained and cocked on any Kol and Kjar didn’t wipe out. And if she wasn’t mistaken, any who came too close to her.

Why weren’t they boarding?

Why weren’t they helping?

Then she realized.

This was a slaughter that belonged to Kol and Kjar.

A revenge of passion so it seemed based on the way they took men down fast while seemingly toying with others. Or so said the daggers Kol threw into the shoulders of some and the thighs of others while sword fighting even more. Eventually, he’d return to his original injured victims and run them through.

It was methodical and well-thought out. Sometimes he would punch a man, twist his blade into a previous wound then let them struggle through pain as he attacked another. She knew he was dangerous, she’d seen as much when that guy had tried to slap her, but she had no idea what he was capable of until now.

The pure brutality.

Yet something about it captivated her. There was a certain beauty, almost creativity to the way he worked his body and weapons. Almost like a well-orchestrated dance. How could she find beauty in death? Because that’s exactly what this was. An ebb and flow between life and death.

Cries rose up as men fell fast.

Nobody could touch Kol and Kjar.

They were too damn good.

All the while, the ship swayed softly and varying shades of pale pink, purple and mauve burst across the sea. It was a beautiful morning at complete odds with the mini-war taking place around her. Yet Naðr’s men stayed silent, sentinels overseeing a quick battle.

Within minutes, silence didn’t just reign from above but below as the last man fell.

Well, almost.

Kjar pulled Amber’s shaking body against him, her back to his front, as Kol tore off his helmet, wrapped a hand around Tony’s neck and drove him back against the mast. Tony was tall, but Kol towered over him. Shaking with rage, Kol’s eyes were crazed, beyond lethal.

Tony tried to speak, but Kol squeezed his windpipe and shook his head, words deep and grave. “Not yet.”

The shipwright wrapped a strong, protective arm across her chest and murmured in her ear. “He fights to keep the dragon repressed.”

There was nothing but stark terror in Tony’s eyes as a wide plume of wetness blossomed over the front of his pants. He was pissing himself. She probably would too if she were in his position.