Page 10 of The Viking in the Vault
The Skoll glances over at me, listening even though he clearly doesn’t understand. For a split second, I see a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, and I think maybe he’s going to start trying to figure out what I’m saying…but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
“Great,” I mutter. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
He snorts. Actually snorts, like I’m just an amusing little curiosity. The audacity of this guy is unbelievable. I scowl, pushing against his chest again, but it’s like trying to move a boulder.
“Fine,” I snap. “You’re not going to put me down? Guess I’ll just–”
Before I can finish, he shifts his grip, hoisting me even closer to him so our lips are almost touching. Both his hands are on my ass now, a smug smile on hiis face.
“Excuse me!” I gasp.
He growls something in his language—short and clipped, like a command—and I hate how it makes me feel all Tarzan and Jane. Yes, I'm trapped and being manhandled by a stranger, but the gruff and growly thing is kind of doing it for me.
“I’m losing my mind,” I mutter under my breath.
The Skoll doesn’t seem to care, his attention now focused on the path ahead. The air grows colder with each step, the walls around us shimmering with frost and fractured light. I catch glimpses of shattered cores, their contents spilling out in jagged, frozen shards, and the weight of what’s happened begins to settle over me.
The second quake must’ve caused even more damage than I realized. The Eiskammer is barely holding together, and here I am, getting dragged deeper into it by someone who seems completely unfazed by the danger.
I glance up at him, my fear warring with frustration. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but we can’t staydown here. It’s not safe.” I point to the cracks in the walls for emphasis. “Do you see that? Dangerous.”
He looks at the cracks, then back at me, his expression completely unreadable. After a moment, he mutters something under his breath and keeps walking.
“Of course,” I mutter. “Why would you listen to the tiny, squishy human? Clearly, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
The skarnhound barks again, as if it agrees with me, and I glare at it. “Don’t you start.”
The Skoll glances at the creature, his lips twitching into what might be a smirk, and my irritation flares. I smack his chest lightly—not that it does anything except make my hand sting—and glare up at him.
“You think this is funny?” I demand. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Dragging me around like a sack of flour, letting your prehistoric dog sniff me like I’m dinner—this is all just a big joke to you!”
He raises a brow, clearly unimpressed by my outburst, and mutters something else in that infuriatingly incomprehensible language.
I sigh, slumping in his arms as the reality of the situation sinks in. This is my life now. Carried around by an enormous alien who thinks I’m amusing and has no concept of personal space.
And the worst part? Some tiny, traitorous part of me feels…safe. Like maybe this ridiculous, overly muscular Skoll knows exactly what he’s doing.
I’m doomed.
6
RAGNAR
The woman in my arms is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Her words spill out in a rapid tumble, a melody of gibberish that makes no sense to me, yet her tone is unmistakable—frustration, defiance, determination. She pushes against my chest with small, trembling hands, her body heat warming me up despite the chill around us. Her sharp voice rises, demanding something, though I cannot understand her.
I can only marvel at her.
Her hair gleams in the faint light, a rich, glossy black, and her eyes…
By Yrsa’s grace, her brown eyes are alive with fire, glittering with a kind of spark I have never encountered before.
She’s small—fragile, even, compared to the warriors I’m accustomed to—but there’s nothing fragile in her spirit. She fights against me like a wild creature, clawing, kicking, determined to escape.
She is magnificent.
She must be my fenvarra.
