Viking Warrior Rebel (21 page)

The night before, when she had found her release with Luke, her spirit had left her body and traveled through a vast darkness until she'd encountered a circle of pinprick lights. Freya had appeared as a silver-haired woman in a long, white dress. Astrid had tried to speak to her, but the goddess had just smiled cryptically and stroked her cheek.

A quick knock sounded on the door, and Irja stuck her head in. “You're not dressed,” she exclaimed. She wore a dress in the same color and material as the one on Astrid's bed, but it covered both shoulders and reached her midcalf.

Irja's dark hair was twisted into an elegant updo, and small wild roses of the same color as her dress were sprinkled through her hair. “We're supposed to be helping Naya by now.”

“I can't wear my dress,” Astrid explained.

Irja frowned. “I don't understand.”

Astrid gestured to her left arm. “This is going to stand out too much.”

Irja came closer and bent down to study the tattoo. “It's so beautiful.” She traced the shape with her index finger. When she looked up, her eyes gleamed. “Two of our warriors have found their
själsfrände
. The odds of that are not very high.”

“I didn't want this to happen.”

“But now that it has, are you happy?”

Astrid smiled at Irja's unintended echo of the king's words. “I am.” At least she thought she would be once Luke and she figured out what their relationship would be like. The bond required two soul mates to remain geographically close to each other. That shouldn't be too hard as long as they lived in the same city. She could keep her room here at the fortress and continue her warrior duties. Whenever possible, she'd stay at Luke's place. Maybe eventually, when they knew each other better…

She shook her head. This was too complicated to think about now.

She needed to concentrate on the wedding and then on taking down the fertility clinic. “Screw it.” She stood and grabbed the dress. “Naya wants us to wear these, so that's what I'm going to do. The men are just going to have to deal.”

Irja chuckled. “I think they'll be too busy glowering at Luke to notice your tattoo. How's he getting here?” Unless one of the Viking team was in the car with him, Luke wouldn't find the road to the mansion. Enchantments kept the whole place cloaked.

“I wanted to pick him up, but Leif told me to stay with Naya until the ceremony. He's sending Harald instead.” She shimmied into the dress.

“That's going to be interesting.” Irja smiled. “This wedding is going to be explosive one way or the other.” She gestured for Astrid to turn around and then zipped up the dress.

Astrid silently agreed with her. She just hoped that the bloodshed wouldn't be blamed on her. “Let's go help Naya,” she said.

Irja grabbed her hand and squeezed it as they walked out the door. “Don't worry. Everything will work out okay.” She chuckled again. “Leif will keep death and dismemberment at a minimum on his wedding day. Naya would never forgive him if anyone got hurt.”

That's exactly what Astrid was worried about.

Luke escaped the silver SUV that had brought him to the mansion as soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop. A red-haired guy named Harald had shown up at Luke's office and informed him that he was Luke's ride to the wedding. Those had been the only civil words out of the guy's mouth. The whole ride he'd done nothing but berate Luke for taking advantage of Astrid and forcing this freaking handfasting bond on her. Had the dude met Astrid?

Nobody forced her to do anything.

Harald revved the Escalade's engine and drove off, almost crushing Luke's foot. He headed for the front door, but a dark-haired dude slipped out of the building and held up a hand. Did these Norse men come any shorter than six foot two? That was Luke's height, and except for Ulf, every one of these men looked down on him. He studied the man. He actually didn't look Scandinavian. His skin was pale, but he had eyes so dark that it was hard to see the border between the iris and the pupil. His black, straight hair was tied at the nape of his neck. His face was a more masculine version of the woman who had taken care of Luke when he was poisoned: Irja. The clothes he wore were a riot and belonged at a renaissance fair, and yet somehow the dude made them look manly.

“I'm Pekka.” The guy held out a hand.

“Luke.” He shook the offered hand, expecting an attempt to crush his bones, but Pekka countered with just a regular firm grip.

“I'm going to be your bodyguard since Scott is in the wedding party.” Pekka smiled, but it wasn't reassuring. He looked like he would quite enjoy someone attacking Luke.

“I wasn't aware I'd need a bodyguard. I'm used to taking care of myself.” Luke studied the outfit the guy wore. A gray tunic reached his mid-thigh. Under that, he wore leather pants tucked into boots. Some sort of cape was slung over one shoulder. “Am I underdressed?” Luke asked, gesturing to his charcoal suit. He'd Googled what to wear to a daytime wedding.

That's how screwed up he was over Astrid. He looked up fashion on the Internet because he wanted to fit in with her people, but none of the sites had mentioned a cape.

Pekka grinned. “After I strip-search you, you can decide whether you want to keep the suit or put on more traditional clothing. I should let you know that this is easier to fight in.”

Luke could fight just fine in what he was wearing. If it got extra rowdy, he'd shed the jacket, but there was no way he was putting on a tunic and a cape. “Strip-search? If I'd known we were going to get kinky, I'd have brought you flowers.”

That earned him a lazy grin. “I may grow to like you, Luke Holden, even though many think you stole Astrid to your bed unfairly.”

“I'd tell ‘many' to mind their own damn business.”

Pekka studied him for a moment, a slow smile building on his lips. “I think I'll enjoy today's wedding more than I thought.” He turned all business again. “Hold out your hands. I'm going to pat you down.”

Luke tolerated the search and didn't even flinch when Pekka reached under his jacket and removed the Glock from his shoulder holster. “Can we at least do the stripping inside?” He'd have a hard time saving his dignity if one of the other men saw him in his skivvies out in the courtyard.

Pekka looked up from removing Luke's ankle backup piece. “How about you just tell me what you're hiding in your shoes, and I'll let you keep your clothes on?” Luke cursed softly but wiggled his foot so that his switchblade fell out. Pekka chuckled. “Any weapons in your underwear?”

“Not that you'd be interested in.”

“I walked straight into that one.” Pekka flashed a smile. “Follow me.” Instead of going inside the house as Luke expected, Pekka led him around the building and down a trail in the back.

“Are you related to Irja?” Luke asked.

“She's my twin sister.”

That explained it.

They trudged on for a few minutes until the trail ended at a large clearing. A big, white tent had been erected in the middle. Underneath, chairs had been placed on two sides of a central aisle, which was flanked by rose garlands and ended with an arch covered with the same flowers. On the far side of the clearing, a large, flat rock dominated the landscape. It had some kind of thrones placed on it. Behind the rock, a huge ash tree extended its branches, reaching far over the rock and casting another smaller tent in shadow. That tent contained long tables that bowed from platters of food.

A cluster of those freakishly tall men stood just outside the food tent, drinking from tankards. Their conversation stopped as soon as Luke stepped into the clearing. Each of them threw him a hostile glare.

Yeah, this was going to be one fun party. Instead of wasting his time on fashion, he should have Googled what to do in case of an attack by giants.

“Beer or mead?” Pekka asked.

Luke didn't know what the hell mead was. “Beer,” he bit out and followed the other man as he made his way toward the cluster. Ulf stood in the middle of the group, his glare promising death.

Pekka shook his head when they reached the men. “I sense a lot of tension, gentlemen. You know both Astrid and Naya would skin your hides if you let anything happen to my new friend.” He clamped a hand on Luke's shoulder.

Before the men had a chance to answer, Harald approached from across the clearing. He'd changed into the same kind of getup the rest of them were wearing. “There will be no fighting at this wedding,” he ordered.

Ulf's nostrils flared. “Holden will head home eventually. No telling what could happen once he's left the property.”

Harald took a step forward, fists clenched. “You can't hurt him without hurting Astrid.”

“Maybe Astrid wouldn't mind being released from her bond,” Ulf sneered.

Something dark and primitive awoke in Luke. His vision narrowed as he took a step toward Ulf. “She's made her choice, and you are not it. Why don't you find yourself a woman who welcomes your advances? If there is one.”

A rumble passed through the rest of the men.

Harald held up his hand and gave Luke a pissy look before facing Ulf. “I dislike her choice as much as you do, but he's right. It is her choice, and if you don't like it, take it up with her.”

“Ulf has a better chance against Luke than he does Astrid,” a young blond guy said. “She's already beaten his ass several times.”

“
Ja
, Ulf,” an older guy said. “You're not going to impress her by beating up her
själsfrände
. She can do that by herself.”

Laughter broke out among the men, but Ulf's face turned an ugly red. “We're not done,” he hissed at Luke.

“You name the time and place, and I'll be there.” He shot the other men a nasty glare for having a laugh at Astrid's expense.

Pekka shoved a mug of beer in his hand. “Let's go find our seats.”

“Good idea,” Harald said. “The rest of you should do the same.”

Luke made his way to the ceremony tent. “Bride's or groom's side?” he asked.

“The fuck if I know,” Pekka answered. “I've only known them ten months.”

Harald came up behind them. “You're sitting on that side.” He pointed to the side farthest from the food tent. “Everyone else is sitting on the other side.”

Luke picked a chair as ordered, and Pekka chose one next to his. “Are the men always that disrespectful toward Astrid?”

Pekka frowned. “That was not disrespect. Astrid is one of the most respected warriors in the group.” He sat back in his chair. “She's one of them. They treat her exactly the way they treat one another.”

Luke mulled that over. He didn't like any man claiming Astrid as one of his own, no matter the intention. The he-man in him wanted to stake his claim and keep her hidden away. The rational side of him realized Astrid would never tolerate that. And if these men were her family, they'd be there for her when he no longer could. “You keep saying ‘them.' Are you not one of these Norse warriors?” he asked Pekka.

The other man paused for a moment. “I'm from Finland,” he said as if that would explain everything.

“I don't follow.”

“I shouldn't have ended up in Valhalla, but I did, and then Odin sent me back here. I don't consider myself a Viking. Those are Swedes, Danes, Norwegians, or Icelandic—not Finnish.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Pekka leaned back and scrutinized Luke. “Astrid hasn't told you about her time in Valhalla?”

Luke shrugged. “Nope. I know Valhalla is some kind of heaven in Norse mythology, but that's about it.”

“You and Astrid have a lot to talk about.”

No shit. “Why don't you fill me in on some of it?” Luke took a drink from his beer. It tasted like a regular crisp Pacific Northwest IPA.

“Astrid should really give you the details. I'll give you the short and concise version.”

“Fine. I promise I'll ask her for specifics.” Luke faked a casual tone. He doubted Pekka would give away any state secrets, but maybe he'd finally be able to figure out why these Scandinavians were here and what their mission was.

“When you do, make sure you've got some time.” Pekka grinned as if that was an inside joke. “All of us here died about a thousand years ago.”

Luke stared at him, trying to figure out what metaphor the guy was reaching for. “I don't get it.”

Pekka shook his head. “This will also require some time.”

“Just tell me what you know, and I'll figure it out later with Astrid.”

“Everyone who lives in this house—well, except for Naya—was alive during the Viking age. We all died what's considered a heroic death and were sent to Valhalla to train as Odin's warriors. He calls us
einherjar
. The men, that is. The women go to some magic meadow where Freya is in charge. No man knows what goes on there. The women become the goddess's Valkyries.”

Luke's head was spinning. Odin, Freya, Valkyrie—what the fuck? The wolverines had referred to Astrid as Valkyrie. Was that in recognition of her being some kind of otherworld creature? Was she like them? “Why are you here?” he asked. “Why are you not still in Valhalla?”

“Ah, that's the clincher.” Pekka grimaced. “The half god Loki is a bit of a bad boy. He's sending wolverines to the mortal plane, what we call Midgard, and hiding that from the Norse gods' council. Freya and Odin are very keen on protecting humanity, but they can't prove to the council that Loki is behind these creatures. And gods are not allowed to bring their conflicts to Midgard.”

“So they send you here to fight the wolverines instead.” Luke couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Astrid seemed so normal. She had superior fighting skills, but he figured she'd received treatment similar to what he and Donovan had.

Pekka thumbed his nose. “You got it.”

This was crazy, and yet Luke couldn't stop himself from continuing the conversation. On some ludicrous level, this explained a lot about Astrid and Leif and the rest of the men. “Are you going back to Valhalla?” The thought of losing Astrid made his chest ache, but Luke ignored it. It would happen eventually, no matter what he did.

“Nobody knows,” Pekka answered. “The king was worried for a while that he would have to send Astrid back. Her berserker—her inner warrior—was growing too strong and fighting her for control. Now that you are bonded, she'll be okay.” He chucked Luke's shoulder. “Just don't die on her. Then she'll trip into permanent battle fever, and she'd be a danger to all of us. Leif would have to send her back to Freya's meadow.”

“Berserker?” Luke asked, but he already suspected he'd seen Astrid's “inner warrior.” That must be the feral creature that sometimes showed from behind her eyes.

“You seriously know nothing about this? What do you and Astrid do when you spend time together?” Pekka held up his hand. “Never mind, I don't want to know.” He took a sip of beer. “The berserker is the reason why Vikings and Valkyries are undefeatable. It whips them into battle frenzy so fierce they feel no pain and never tire.”

Astrid would go into permanent battle fever if he died. She'd have to leave her warrior brothers and sisters. Would there be any consequences when he left, hopefully still alive? He opened his mouth to ask, but Leif entered the tent. Dressed entirely in black, the tall man walked up the aisle and stood next to Harald by the flower arch. From somewhere, music started playing and the guests stood.

Luke followed their lead.

After a few moments, Irja strode down the aisle. She looked great, but Luke's attention was captivated by the woman following behind her. Astrid's short dress hugged her curves and showed off her spectacularly long legs. One shoulder was bare, proudly displaying the serpent tattoo on her arm. She wore knee-high leather boots in the same pinkish color as her dress. Images of her in bed wearing nothing but those boots flooded his mind, giving him an instant hard-on. She gave him a smile and a wink as she passed by, and he had to shuffle his feet to adjust the tightness of his pants.

Irja and Astrid took their places on the other side of the flower arch. Luke noticed Ulf watching Astrid and must have made a move toward him, because Pekka caught his sleeve. “She'll kill you if you mess up this wedding,” he hissed.

Luke glanced toward Astrid, and sure enough, she glared at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, but her forehead didn't smooth out until the music changed and Naya came down the aisle on the arm of her brother. She wore a white dress and some kind of crown with a veil on her head.

Leif stepped forward. The dude had a grin as large as the Grand Canyon on his face as he held out his hand to his bride. Scott placed his sister's hand in her groom's. Her slight frame next to Leif's would have looked weird if it wasn't for the smile she wore when she gazed at her groom. It made her radiant, and as she grasped his hand, no one could have had any doubt that these two belonged together.