Page 9 of Stolen By the Berserker

He laughed out loud. “No, Sweets. Thank you.” He caressed her cheek and then left the bed.

The air felt chilly against Cassie’s skin, so she crawled under the covers. The sheets smelled fresh.

She’d just rest for a moment, and then she’d go back to her own bedroom. Or maybe she’d just stay a while, just in case they would go for another round.

Her lips stretched in a lazy smile, and she was asleep before Sten returned from the bathroom.

CHAPTER 5

Sten drove the Escalade faster than technically safe on the way to White Spruce's small municipal airport. He and Cassie slept in her old bed all night. She’d never woken up once he returned from the bathroom, so he’d just slipped in beside her and fallen into a slumber deeper than he’d known in a long time.

They’d woken up all tangled up in each other, and he’d been ready for another round of her wildness, but a loud banging on the door had them scrambling for their clothes. The tow truck driver had gotten Sten’s message and showed up at seven-thirty in the morning.

After that, everything happened quickly. He caught a ride to one mechanic in town, who just happened to have the right size tires in stock. Now he had two brand new front tires, and a used, but not punctured, tire as a spare. By the time he’d arranged for all of that, he had to haul his ass to get to the meeting on time.

At least they’d paved the country roads around the small municipal airport. Sten guided the car through the gates of the airport and across the tarmac to the hangar with the numberthe king had texted. As he steered the vehicle, he glimpsed something weird on the outside of his left wrist. A faded outline of a serpent’s tail graced his skin.

He froze and stomped on the brakes. When a berserker claimed theirsjälsfrände, their soulmarked fated mate, the Midgard Serpent’s tail showed up as a tattoo on their wrist. They had to complete the bond before that mark swirled up their arm and combined with the head and partial body that encircled every Norse warrior’s non-sword hand biceps. If they didn’t, they risked submitting to permanent battle fury and had to be sent back to Valhalla before they hurt their battle brothers and sisters—or themselves.

Fuck.Somehow, his berserker had claimed Cassie as theirsjälsfrände.

Mine,the beast smugly whispered in his mind.

Fuck. Jävla helvetes shit.

How could this have happened?

He shook his head. He couldn’t let this derail his mission. Time to focus on completing the deal the king had sent him to do. Cassie and he would have to discuss this later. Maybe they could arrange for some sort of long-distance thing. He definitely wasn’t ready to settle down. Was he?

Min själsfrände,the berserker growled inside him. He told it to shut the fuck up. Slapping the steering wheel, he got his mind back on the job.

Two pickup trucks were parked outside the half-domed steel construction. Sten pulled up beside them and got out of the Escalade.

Brick Johnson, a middle-aged man with short grey hair, approached him. “Sorry about the delay. We had a minor hiccup with a supplier yesterday.” He held out his hand.

Sten shot a quick look at the younger, dark-haired man staying back. The pickup hid his lower body, and Sten couldn’t see his hands. Couldn’t see if he carried weapons. He tapped into the connection with his berserker again and told his inner warrior to be alert. “No worries.” He shook Johnson’s hand and lifted his chin toward the other guy. “Who’s that?”

Johnson didn’t turn around. “Ben, my security. He won’t bother you unless you bother us first.”

Sten nodded. He could kill both of them before the younger guy could draw his gun, but he saw no reason to freak out the mortals unless he had to. “Show me the wares.”

Johnson walked to the closest truck and lowered the tailgate. “As specified by your boss, I have six new Glocks and two Remington sniper rifles.”

Sten peered into the truck bed, where several gun cases lay open. He picked up each of the rifles and examined their sight and trigger mechanism. Per would drool big time when Sten showed him saw these back home. “Looks good,” he said.

“I brought ammunition as well.”

“Nah, don’t need that.” The warriors reloaded their own ammo. They did it to pass the time between patrols. Or they played video games or worked out. Plus, they didn’t use guns all that often. Gunshots attracted law enforcement, mortal men and women.

Loki’s minions didn’t hesitate to use regular humans as shields or hostages. The Norse warriors preferred to fight with blades and fists when they could. Plus, they lived in a state that required registration of gun ownership. Frey and Odin had included passports or social security numbers when they’d sent back the warriors to the human realm. They all had quality fake paperwork, but didn’t want to encourage law enforcement to scrutinize their records if unnecessary. Hence Sten traveling to Montana to purchase weapons. This state’s gun laws were more relaxed than Washington.

“Right.” Johnson started snapping the cases closed. “There is the small matter of payment, and then you can be on your way.”

Sten shot another quick look at the guy standing behind the other pickup. The man watched him intently, but didn’t seem like a threat. The berserker remained calm. “I’ll get the money,” Sten said and walked back to the Escalade. The Viking tribe had plenty of funds. Some warriors had walked Midgard for centuries. Even bad investment dividends added up after that long of a time.

He retrieved a duffle bag with cash, and after Johnson had counted the bundles, he and Sten loaded the weapons into the Escalade. The other guy remained calm and vigilant. They’d stashed the last case in the back—later on, Sten would transfer them to a hidden and locked compartment underneath the car—when a commotion behind them raised the hairs on Sten’s neck. His berserker went on instant alert and growled loudly.

Sten turned around and took a step forward while shoving Johnson behind him. The man gave him a puzzled look, but then inhaled sharply when he saw what Sten protected him from.

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