Viking Warrior Rebel (15 page)

To distract himself, he thought about the night's fight. Astrid had taken down three of the creatures on her own. Granted, she'd neutralized two of them with throwing knives, but still. She moved faster than an average human, and then there was how quickly she healed.

Had she received the same magical cocktails that gave Luke his enhanced abilities? Somehow she was connected to the covert labs, and he was starting to believe the wolverines were too. They looked like weird human-animal hybrids.

He shuddered. Truly warped minds had thought up that experiment. At least Luke's injections had only enhanced him, not made him into a monster.

In the lab, both he and Donovan had trained relentlessly to become perfect soldiers. They excelled in combat and weapons techniques. Luke also responded well to the chemicals they pumped him full of, his body beefing up, his speed increasing. But Donovan hated the injections. They gave him horrible migraines and vivid nightmares. That was why they'd decided to escape. Donovan had begged Luke to help him, and he couldn't say no to his twin brother. There had been only the two of them for as long as he could remember. They had no memories of parents, only the lab with the scientists and their instructors. And now there was only Luke left.

Luke forced the bitter memories away. If he could just figure out who the people responsible for the main lab operations were, he'd be able to shut them down. The FBI Domestic Terrorist Unit had the same goal, but they had to deal with internal power struggles. If the wrong powerful name ended up on a list of the guilty, the whole undercover operation would be stopped. And there must be someone high up in the government working with the labs. How else were the labs always one step ahead of the law enforcement chasing them?

Luke couldn't risk the operation shutting down. He needed to see this through for his brother, which was why he couldn't stop until he had the kind of evidence that no one could sweep under the rug, no matter how powerful they were. Donovan deserved to be avenged. They'd been thirteen when they finally got out. At first, they'd survived on the streets with other runaways. Eventually, they'd gotten menial jobs under assumed names and scraped together just enough to cover rent. But the nightmares wouldn't leave Donovan alone, and he started having hallucinations. He self-medicated with whatever drugs he could get his hands on, but nothing worked. One day, he'd overdosed on purpose. He'd left a note begging Luke for forgiveness.

It was Luke who needed to be forgiven. He'd didn't do enough to ease his brother's pain. He didn't get him off the illegal drugs.

He finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Donovan and a one-eyed man with pet crows.

* * *

Someone shook Luke's shoulder. “Wake up.” The voice sounded worried. He tried to do as he was told, but his eyelids were too heavy. His skin was on fire, and something was gnawing on his calf. Fever raged through his body.

The voice sounded like Astrid and he tried to answer, but his mouth was dry and his lips cracked.

“Freya have mercy,” she said. “Your leg is infected. The fuckers must have laced their claws with poison.”

He drifted in and out of consciousness. There were more voices, more people. Someone put a cold towel on his face. It felt wonderful.

He recognized another female voice but couldn't place it.

Astrid told him he would be okay, but he could hear panic in her voice. He tried to tell her not to worry, but darkness claimed him and the voices faded away.

Astrid paced outside the guest room Luke was in. Irja had told her to get out when she couldn't sit still. The medical officer was busy taking care of Holden's—Luke's wound. Astrid should have known something was wrong with the claw marks on his leg, but she'd been distracted by his clever tongue and hands, not to mention his dick.

The gashes hadn't looked bad when they got back to the apartment. She thought they just needed to be cleaned and bandaged. She hadn't even done that. The intense orgasm Luke had given her had completely drained her. She'd come so hard, she saw stars and a vision of Freya. As soon as she had gotten into bed, she'd fallen asleep. How could she have been so selfish?

She knocked lightly on the closed door.

“You can only come in if you sit still and keep quiet,” Irja said from the other side.

Not moving wasn't possible. Her emotions were all over the place, and the berserker wasn't listening to reason. It roared constantly inside Astrid's mind, and she couldn't think. She placed her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to quiet the beast.

Harald, the king's second-in-command, appeared at the end of the hallway. He walked toward her carrying a medical kit. “You alright?” He creased his forehead.

“Yeah,” she lied and lowered her hands.

“You look like crap,” Harald declared. “Here.” He held out the kit. “Irja needs more bandages and saline to irrigate the wound.”

Grateful for an excuse to enter the room again, Astrid grabbed the kit.

“Not so fast.” Harald grabbed her elbow. “What happened?”

Astrid summarized the fight with the wolverines and Luke waking up feverish. “I didn't know what to do other than bringing him to Irja,” she finished.

“I'm not even going to ask why you were with him, but Leif is going to want a recap.”

Astrid bristled. “Would you ask one of the men why they were spending the night with a woman?”

Harald shrugged. “If they brought her here for medical attention, yes I would.” He released her arm. “Now get in there.”

Astrid nodded and opened the door without knocking.

Irja turned as Astrid entered. She held up the kit before the medical officer could tell her to get out. “Harald sent me in with this.”

“Okay,” Irja said, beckoning with her hand. “Put it here on the bed.”

Astrid moved closer and did as she was told. “How is he?” Her voice broke. Luke lay on top of the covers, wearing only a pair of boxers. A towel was spread underneath his legs. His skin was pale and his breathing rapid.

Mine
, the berserker wailed. Astrid tried to tune it out, and a throbbing headache spread from her temples through the rest of her head.

“I think he's going to be fine.” Irja held up her hands covered in surgical gloves. “Can you open the new kit for me?” Once Astrid had snapped off the lid, Irja retrieved the saline irrigation bottle and some bandages. “The wound is shallow, and I gave him a small dose of the antidote I'm working on. It looks like it's helping him purge the poison.”

Astrid exhaled with a whoosh of relief, her shoulders lowering. “What about his fever?”

“It broke already. That's why he's sweating so much. We just have to keep giving him fluids while we wait for his temperature to return to normal.” She watched Astrid for a moment, her dark eyes gleaming. “Who is he?”

“Luke Holden.” The headache intensified. Astrid had to close her eyes, even though the room was only dimly lit.

“Naya's friend.”

“Client,” Astrid corrected, opening her eyes again.

Mine
, the berserker roared.

Irja's nostrils flared. “What's going on with your berserker?”

“I'm just tired,” Astrid lied.

Irja raised a brow. “Sit here.” She patted a spot on the bed close to Luke.

Astrid walked around the bed and sat down. She looked at Irja with furrowed brows. “Now what?”

“Touch him.” Irja watched her closely.

Astrid hesitated, the intense look on Irja's face holding her back. Finally she reached out and placed her hand on Luke's uninjured leg. As soon as she touched his skin, an intense calm spread through her body, sweeping her anxiety and the headache out of the way.

Yes
, the berserker whispered, stretching like a contented cat.
Mine
.

What the hell?
Startled, Astrid turned to Irja. “I–I don't understand,” she stuttered.

The other Valkyrie watched her with solemn eyes and reached for Astrid's left wrist. She pulled the cuff of the shirt up and lifted the hand so it was illuminated by the lamp on the nightstand. The pale yellow light revealed faint black lines shaped like the tail of a serpent. The tip curved delicately toward Astrid's little finger. “That's what I thought,” Irja mumbled.

“No,” Astrid protested. A million thoughts raced through her head, only to dissipate into nothing. She snatched her hand back from Irja's grip and removed her hold on Luke's leg. The berserker immediately snarled. Astrid told it to shut up, and after some grumbling, the beast calmed down again. “This can't be right. Luke's human.”

Amusement flashed in Irja's eyes. “That's what Leif said when he bonded with Naya, and yet she is his
själsfrände
.”

Astrid pressed a hand to her throat. “No, you don't understand. This isn't the first—” She looked up at Irja, willing her to understand what a magnificent fuckup this was. “You have to fix this.”

Irja laughed. “There's nothing to fix. You've found your true mate.”

Astrid swallowed the lump growing in her throat. She'd have to tell Irja everything in order to make her understand. “I met Luke a long time ago. We had sex several months ago.” She gestured to the faint lines on her hand. “So this can't be real. This is a mistake.” She looked at Luke. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breath was shallow, but he seemed to be resting peacefully.

She curled her fingers to keep from touching him. Luke couldn't be her
själsfrände
, no matter how much the thought brought on an impossible longing deep inside her. According to the old Norse stories—the Sagas—the sign appeared when a Valkyrie or Viking first touched their true mate. She looked at Irja. “What do I do?” To her horror, moisture gathered in her eyes.

Irja grabbed her hand. “This is a good thing.” Astrid shook her head, but Irja squeezed her hand. “I've done a lot of research on the
själsfrände
bond since Leif met Naya. The bond isn't always triggered the first time a Norse warrior meets their potential mate. In some of the stories I've found, two people developed the bond even if they'd known each other for a while.”

“How?”

Irja shrugged. “You know the Sagas. They aren't big on scientific details. From what I've been able to piece together, I think you have to have physical—maybe even sexual—contact with your potential mate, but your berserker also has to recognize that person as a
själsfrände
.” She chuckled. “Leif can be rash and impulsive, especially on the battlefield. It makes sense that his berserker would make up its mind about Naya after one kiss.” She tugged on Astrid's hand.

“As opposed to you, who are extremely independent and stubborn to a fault. It would take a while for your berserker to decide whether a
själsfrände
was worthy. In one of the stories I read, a couple was married for five years before the serpent tail appeared. It was an arranged marriage between a thrall and a wealthy landowner. They had to gain each other's trust before their berserkers would bond.”

“Figures,” Astrid said. “Some rich guy buys a much younger bride and then makes her fall in love with him.”

Amusement gleamed in Irja's eyes again. “Actually, it was a spinster who purchased a good-looking younger male, married him, and then had five children.”

Astrid couldn't help but smile a little. As much as any stories about thralls brought back bad memories of her own time as a slave, she liked the idea of a woman who'd been put on the shelf buying herself a handsome stud. “But Luke doesn't have a berserker,” she said. The headache came back, throbbing behind Astrid's closed eyes. Without thinking, she reached out and touched Luke with her free hand. The pain immediately subsided. She opened her eyes again. “It's going to take a while to process this.”

Irja nodded. “I imagine so. You have some time before you're in danger.” She smiled. “But you do need to complete the bond.”

“How?” Astrid pulled her hands from Irja and Luke and instead buried them in her hair. “I've already slept with him. The bond should be completed.” The orgasm-induced vision of Freya from the night before popped back in her mind. Had that triggered the bond? She had no choice but to commit to him now. If they didn't complete the bond, her berserker would enter permanent battle fury, eventually taking complete control over Astrid. She would be a danger to all the other warriors, and Leif would have to send her back to Valhalla, where Odin would make her sleep for eternity. What if Luke didn't want to be tied to her? Had he been affected by the bond? Did he have visions of Odin when he came?

“Don't worry so much right now.” Irja put two fingers on Luke's pulse and held up her other hand while she counted. She nodded, satisfied. “I'm sure it will work out somehow.” She popped her surgical gloves off. “It did for Leif and Naya. If they can make a relationship work, I have high hopes for you.” She smiled.

Astrid didn't feel as confident, but before she had a chance to answer, there was a knock on the door and Harald stepped inside. She quickly pulled down her sleeve to cover the serpent tail and turned to Irja, a silent plea in her eyes.

The other Valkyrie nodded. She would keep quiet. For now.

Harald didn't seem to have noticed the exchange. “I'm sorry to bother you,” he said and then paused for a moment. “Is he okay?” he added, nodding toward Luke.

“He will be,” Irja said. “What's on your mind?”

“I need Astrid,” he said. “I could use both of you, but I understand if you need to stay with Holden, Irja.”

“What's going on?” the medical officer asked.

Harald scratched his beard, worry making the lines on his face more pronounced. “The king wants all warriors ready for battle.”

Astrid stood. “What's happened? Are we under attack?”

“No, but there have been some bad things happening at the farm southeast of here.” Norse warriors had been monitoring the farmhouse for almost a year, after destroying a wolfsbane crop grown there. “So the newly arrived wolverines are moving into the farm?” Astrid asked.

“Yes,” Harald said, his fists clenching. “And they've brought prisoners.”

“Who?” Irja frowned.

Harald focused on her, pain reflected in his eyes. “We don't know,” he said, his voice dark. “But it looks like they've captured mortals.”

Astrid inhaled sharply. The wolverines were Loki's minions, but this was bold even for that half-god son of a sow.

“Freya protect us all,” Irja whispered. “What would they want with mortals?”

“I don't know,” Harald said. “But I don't think it's anything good.”

“I'll get my sword,” Astrid said.

Harald nodded. “I'll see you downstairs.” He left the room.

Astrid stood and took one more look at Luke. She stroked his chin. Stubble had already started to grow along his strong jawline.

“I'll take good care of him,” Irja promised.

Astrid gave her a grateful look, nodded once, and then went to fetch her weapons. If the wolverines were taking mortal captives, something big was going on. Which meant the stakes were high, and most likely the wolverines would fight hard to keep their hostages.

The berserker stirred and stretched.
Fight
, it whispered inside Astrid's mind, and then smiled.

Astrid answered the smile with one of her own. When things got complicated, there was nothing like a good fight to clear her mind. Battle was easy and straightforward. Kill your enemy. Avoid dying.

She went to the armory and collected one of her broadswords before joining the other Norse warriors on the training grounds. They lined up shoulder to shoulder, facing the king and the queen, sword hands on the hilts of the weapons hanging in scabbards on their belts. In these modern times, the swords weren't practical. They were not effective against guns, and they were hard to conceal. But the swords tied the Viking team to a shared history and culture. They still used them in training and in ceremonies like this one, aimed at strengthening their bonds with one another before heading into battle. Astrid also used her smallsword as an anchor to Freya, the guardian of Valkyries. Her prayers to the goddess felt more genuine when she made them while holding her favorite Norse sword.

Leif pulled his blade out of its scabbard. The sound of steel brushing against leather resonated through the air. The king held his sword up high. Naya repeated the gesture, looking small but fierce as she stood next to her soon-to-be husband.

The warriors drew their weapons, and Harald led them in a war cry. Although Astrid preferred her smallsword, the broadsword felt right in her hand as part of bonding with her battle brothers and sister. She felt a ping deep in her chest as her berserker connected with the Vikings' and the royal couple's inner warriors.

Harald took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Will you join your king and queen in victory?”

“
Ja!
” Their shouts echoed in unison through the building, vibrating deep in Astrid's body.

“On Odin's and Freya's order, our duty is to protect the mortals and their realm. Loki's monsters have captured a group of humans. They need our help. What shall we do?”