Viking’s Claim (Kilts & Kisses 4)

“I took you today and brought you in here just now because you’re mine, and mine alone,” he growls.

“I—I’m supposed to marry—”

“Not anymore you aren’t.”

The tent goes quiet for a moment as he barks the words out. But slowly, his face softens, is eyes dipping low over me. Slowly, he smiles a thin smile, and when I follow his gaze, I blush as I realize the top few buttons of my wedding dress have ripped open.

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

I blush fiercely.

“I—yes,” I nod shyly.

“Good,” he grunts, moving closer.

“W—what are you doing?” I whisper, my pulse racing in my ears.

“Whatever I want.”

I shiver as he moves closer, his massive frame looming over me. And suddenly, it’s like I’m right back to those two stolen kisses from before—first at Una’s wedding during the attack, and then, when Tor came for me again at Ailith’s. His large hand reaches out, and when his big fingers touch my chin and raise my gaze up, I swallow thickly. Tor leans down, those grey eyes of his blazing into me, never blinking, never faltering as he moves closer, until his lips just brush against mine.

“Whatever I want, little bird.”

His lips crush to mine, hard, and I whimper as that kiss steals the breath from me. My whole body trembles, my world spinning on its axis as the rough, untamed Viking sears his lips to mine. I shiver, whimpering quietly, and I know he feels it.

Tor pulls away, grinning, his eyes full of grey fire.

“Feels good, doesn’t it.”

“What feels good?” I manage to mumble out.

His eyes spark.

“Doing what you shouldn’t.”

“I—I shouldn’t be kissing you,” I whisper heatedly.

“No,” Tor grunts, pulling me close to him as the heat of his body surrounds me.

“No, you shouldn’t be. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop.”

I moan as his mouth finds mine again, kissing me fiercely and wildly as everything spins around me. But somehow, I find my wits. Somehow, gasping, I push him away, shaking my head as my hand flies to my lips.

Tor grins hungrily.

“A fighter’s spirit,” he grunts. “Good.”

“You… you can’t just kiss me!” I snap. “Again.”

“I disagree.”

I whimper as he yanks me against him, my hands falling to his muscled, rock-hard chest as he growls into my mouth again. And I want so badly to just let go and lose myself, just like I did those last two times when he found me alone and kissed me until I saw stars. But deep down, I know this is wrong. I know this gorgeous man who kisses me until I want to give him everything is a devil. He’s a killer, and a savage, and being anywhere near him is dangerous.

…And I have to get away.

He’s still kissing me hard enough to make my toes curl when I pull away. My eyes dart next to me, and when they spot what I was hoping I’d spot, I know it’s now or never.

“Tor,” I purr heatedly, my eyes locking on his. One of my hands goes to the neck of my gown, and slowly, I begin to tease open another button. Tor grins hungrily, his eyes blazing as they lock onto my fingers.

Perfect.

My other hand reaches out for the piece of firewood lying on the little pile next to me, and before I can question my judgement, or think it through, or come up with any plan whatsoever past the immediate, I act. I grab the log and swing it right against the side of his head.

Tor grunts, faltering away from me and hissing as his hands go to his head. I whirl, my pulse races, and I run.

…I barely get ten feet before I hear him start to chase.

Chapter 5

Tor

Damn it.

I grunt as I lunge after her, my head pounding. I can feel the blood trickling from where she hit me, but I give it no mind. I know it’s a light wound. And I’m not even angry that she hit me, I’m angry that I walked right fucking into it. I’m angry that twenty years of fighting, and war, and battles should have prepared me for anything and everything. And maybe it did.

…Except for her.

Nothing’s prepared me for Rhona, and I know it. She shatters my walls. She brings down my defenses. She ruins my instincts. And now, the side of my damn head has just paid for it.

Branches swipe at my face as I charge after her through the woods. She’s darted back behind the tent after running out of it, which is smarter than if she’d tried to run through the whole camp full of my men. But a lily-white dress is hardly the right camouflage for running through the woods at night, and I’m having no trouble following her. But she’s still keeping abreast of me. It’s because she’s small enough to run under the tree branches, and I’m big enough that I’m crashing through every damn one of them. But still, I’ve almost caught up to her.