The Valkyrie’s Mortal Page 4
Stooping, he stepped in and paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. A fire flickered in the grate and a few stick-like pieces of furniture sat around the room. It was clear he’d not stumbled across a wealthy home.
“How dare you.” A small, shadow of a man appeared before him, holding a pitchfork. “Leave my croft.” His narrowed eyes flashed and he pointed the sharp end of his weapon at Halvor.
“Father, no!”
Halvor reached for the fork, twisted it from the man’s hand with pitiful ease, and then tossed it across the room.
The man grunted in fury and tried to throw a punch, which landed on Halvor’s shield. The elderly man then staggered backward until his hunched shoulders hit the stone wall. He clutched his wrist and his features twisted. “You’re not welcome here!”
“Death doesn’t require a welcome.”
Suddenly the old man moved, quick as a snake in the grass, and grabbed a poker from the fire. He let out a blood-curdling cry, like a battle scream, and lunged at Halvor.
Halvor stepped to the side and watched the man lunge past him.
His would-be attacker’s movements were chaotic and un-practiced. The poker caught the side of a table and rattled to the floor.
Halvor then moved up close to him and drew his sword.
“No! No! Please, don’t hurt my father. He’s an old man, of no danger to you.”
Halvor was aware of tugging on his tunic. The woman was at his side, her small hands ineffective at getting him to change his stance, but she was annoying.
He shifted, elbowing her out of the way.
She tumbled to the right, landing against the table and bending over it, gasping for breath. He returned his attention to the old man.
Fear danced in his eyes and his mouth was a thin, flat line. But still he held his chin tilted, defiant even in the face of an intruder twice his size. “Kill me, but don’t hurt the lass.”
“I’ll do what I want with you both.”
“Of that I’m certain.” The old man’s voice shook. “But allow me to ask for mercy, even if your race does not know of such a thing.”
Mercy! He understood mercy. He wasn’t an animal.
“You animal.” The girl was back, her fists thudding on his shoulder. “Leave us be.”
He spun to her, his shoulders rounded and his lips pulled back, baring his teeth.
Outside there were screams and shouts, the clatter of iron on iron, the crackle of fire reaching into the night sky. But all that dimmed. Before him stood the sweetest Celt he’d ever laid eyes on. His heart rate picked up, and a tug in his belly made him drag in a breath.
Despite her hair being messy, it was a beautiful dark color, matching her eyes. Her skin was pale, almost translucent and her cheekbones high beneath it. And her lips, pouty and red and pulled into such a downturn of anger, he almost laughed.
Almost.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She stepped back, as though his attention on her had drained some of her bravado. “And don’t even think about raping me, I’ll gouge out your eyes, bite you, bite your cock off.” She made a gnashing action with her teeth, snapping them together.
“We’ve only just met and you’re talking about my cock.” He took a step closer, enjoying the way it made her skitter backward. She quickly hit the opposite wall of the small room.
“Leave,” she said, “take what you want and leave. Leave us be, with our lives.”
“And why should I do that?” He set his palms on the stonework at either side of her head and looked down at her. “When you look like so much fun.”
To keep reading The Viking's Captive and find out exactly what happens between Duna and Halvor please purchase from Amazon or grab your copy from Kindle Unlimited.
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