Page 14 of The Viking in the Vault
I freeze.
He just destroyed the only working comm in this part of the archive.
He may have just doomed us to freeze to death.
“Are you kidding me?” I yell, turning on him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ragnar crosses his arms, staring down at the shattered remains of the panel like it’s done him a personal wrong. He growls something else, his tone sharp, then gestures around the room as if that explains everything. His hand keeps moving between me and the destroyed comm, his expression intense, but all I can see is the smoking pile of circuits he just smashed.
“Great. Just great,” I mutter, planting my hands on my hips. “Now what? We’re trapped here, and you just destroyed our only way out.”
Ragnar frowns, the frustration on his face softening for just a second. He says something quieter this time, which I think might be an apology based on his tone.
But the damage is already done.
The one thing we needed is gone, and now we’re stuck in this freezing, crumbling archive with no way to contact anyone.
I shake my head. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
Ragnar steps back, glancing at the ruined console like he might be second-guessing himself. For a moment, I almost feel bad for yelling at him—until I remember that he’s the one who smashed it in the first place. Whatever he thought he was doing, it just made things ten times worse.
Fenrik whines from the corner, padding over to nudge my shoulder. I reach over to scratch behind his ears, using themotion to ground myself before my frustration boils over again. Ragnar doesn’t say anything else, just stands there watching me.
I don’t know what his deal is, but one thing’s for sure—this rescue just got a whole lot more complicated.
Because without using a comm, I can’t call for help.
And this guy seems intent on destroying every bit of technology he sees.
8
RAGNAR
The woman–my fenvarra, Elena–does not trust me.
She keeps her distance, pacing around the Borean lab like a cornered animal. Every so often, she glances at me, her expression full of frustration and deep suspicion. She must still be under the influence of the Boreans, enthralled by their mind control.
At least she seems to trust Fenrik, who follows her around the space like a loyal hound. She’ll touch him.
I try not to be jealous.
She’s clearly exhausted, though, even as she stalks around, searching the cabinets for more alien technology. I can’t allow her to contact my enemy; if she does, we could both be doomed. I could end up back in cryo-sleep for Yrsa knows how long.
“You should sit,” I tell her, even though I know it’s pointless. “You’re too tired to keep searching.”
She shakes her head at me, babbling in her alien language before turning back to one of the consoles. She’s shaking, even underneath my massive cloak.
I stand, even though I’ve been trying to make myself small so as not to frighten her. I keep my movements slow and deliberate, Fenrik perking his ears up and watching me cross the room.Elena turns and, when she sees me, her eyes go wide. She blurts out a word of warning, shielding the console behind her.
“I won’t hurt you,” I murmur, raising my hands in surrender. I then place my hand over my heart. “You are my fenvarra. I am sworn to protect you, to adore you, to worship you”
Her brow furrows.
“Fenvarra,” I repeat, pointing at myself.
She points at me. “Ragnar…?”
I nod. “Ragnar, fenvarra.”
