Page 24 of The Viking in the Vault
Ihaven’t taken a boy home with me since I lived on Earth…and even then, it was rare.
Plus, they were never ancient alien warriors.
We get more than a few weird looks as we walk through town, though I can’t tell if it’s because of Fenrik or because of Ragnar’s absurd blue jacket. I live in a clump of student apartments, populated mostly by humans and Ka’reth. Ragnar keeps looking around, clearly disturbed by the Ka’reth–and it occurs to me he’s never seen one until today.
I wish I could tell him he’s going to be okay…to explain what’s going on.
Instead, all I can do as I unlock the door is turn around and tell him, “Safe.”
I open the door and Fenrik takes the opportunity to plow ahead, making me rush to flip on the light so he doesn’t destroy anything. I open it up to see him disappear around the kitchen counter, tail wagging above it, nose to the ground. I step in and Ragnar follows.
Or at least, he tries to follow–but he knocks his antlers against the door frame and grunts.
“Sorry!” I say, looking back at him with a wince. “Human corridors…not big enough for Skoll, I guess.”
Although Ves has never had a problem getting inside, but they’re not a giant.
I don’t know what to do, especially since I can’t make conversation. I clasp my hands together, chewing on my lip. “Uh…do you want–”
Something crashes in the kitchen and I jerk my head around, Ragnar letting out a growl. Fenrik is giving a deeply accusatory look to the offending chair–thank God it wasn’t anything more valuable. I rush over to him to pick up the chair again, Ragnar whistling for him and taking a decisive seat on the couch.
He looks…hilarious.
The blue coat is still on his shoulders, stretched way too tight, and he dwarfs the couch. Once Fenrik jumps up with him, I fear that they might break my furniture. Not that I can do anything about it; they’ll do less damage there than roaming around.
I point at them, hoping he’ll understand. “Stay right there,” I say. My eyes roam over the room, wondering… “Actually! Wait.”
I walk to the coffee table and grab the remote, then I flip on the TV over the fireplace. The holographic screen flares to life, filling the small room with soft light and the familiar chime of M’mir’s planetary entertainment network. Ragnar cocks his head, eyes wide, then he leans forward and clasps his hands. Fenrik’s ears perk up, similarly drawn to the flashing lights.
“I’ll put something on for you,” I murmur, more for myself than for Ragnar. He glances at me, but he’s mostly transfixed on the TV.
Good.
That will give me some time to figure out what I’m doing here.
I go to the TV guide, where I scroll through my options. They keep a little bit of everything available here–numerous culturesand languages, though the planet with the most TV shows and movies is definitely mine. I find an old sitcom–something I know will stay calm and simple. No explosions, not too much weirdness.
Perfect.
I put my hands on my hips, wondering what I should do next–and it’s only then that it occurs to me I’m still wearing my winter gear. I start taking it off, shrugging off my coat to hang it by the door. I go through the motions, slipping off my boots and my scarf. The cold bites at me right away, even through my thick wool sweater. I turn around to get the fire started–
Oh my God.
He’s right behind me.
Ragnar is shrugging off his coat and mimicking me, though he is completely–gloriously–shirtless underneath that ridiculous parka. My lips part as I look up at him, finding the broad plain of his abs, his chest, his…
His eyes.
He’s smirking at me.
“I was just…” I start, stuttering and blushing bright red. “Um. Getting a fire started.”
He grunts in acknowledgement.
I somehow manage to slip past him.
I’m shivering by the time I get the fire started, and I kneel in front of it to warm my hands. Now that I’m out of my coat…oof, I need a shower. Can I just shower with Ragnar in my house? Would he like to have a shower? Would he like to shower with me–
