The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

It wasn’t Fen.

It wasn’t my husband, the man I was falling in love with.

It was the one person who had unease filling me every time I’d seen him. The stranger with the dead eyes.

And all I could do was stand there frozen in place, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only.

To try to take from me what I wasn’t offering.

18

Fen

Every step I took away from Prima felt wrong.

And every time I put one foot in front of the other, it felt as if I was trying to wade through mud. It got harder and harder, because my body was rebelling and telling me where I needed to go.

Where I needed to be.

I rounded the last corner that would take me back to the hall, but a growl of frustration left me.

Fuck this.

I turned and made my way back to my wife. She was the most important thing to me, not some fucking party. Before she came into my life, I would’ve spent the entire time in the great hall speaking with people, getting to know them better, creating connections and reassuring them that everything was where it needed to be for everyone to be safe and protected.

They would have been my priority.

Not anymore.

Prima was the most important thing in my life, and I hated the fact that she was in our room alone right now, yearning for me. Everything was settled with Audun and Manning. I’d spoken to my guards and made sure the nightly rounds and protections were in place. I’d even spoken with some of the powerful families in Kaldir and made sure feathers were still smoothed between everyone before the festivities even started.

So now it was time to put my wife first. She didn’t deserve any less than that.

I turned the corner that led to the hallway where our room was, and everything in me froze, rage instantly rising up in me. This possessive, territorial beast was at the forefront as I stared at the male, Audun’s second-in-command. Stiles.

He stood a foot from where Prima was, his hand outstretched as if he meant to reach out and take a strand of her hair, possibly rub it between his fingers. She was pressed to the stone wall, his body far too close to hers. This dangerous panic seized me as I thought about if he’d dared to touch her.

He’d already frightened her, and for that alone I’d break his bones.

This low, dangerous growl left me, and he slowly looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes narrowing, his lips thinning. I focused on Prima for a moment, seeing how her eyes were wide, her clear unease and fear written across her face.

This bastard thought to come anywhere near my wife? He dared to think he had any right to lay his hands on her?

I was a brutal man by nature and had no empathy where my enemies were concerned. And he’d just jumped to the top of my list.

Coveting my wife was the greatest offense in my eyes, and the very thought that if I hadn’t come here soon enough, if she hadn’t been able to fight him off, this fucker would’ve done heinous things to her…

He’d pay for that offense dearly. With pain and violence and begging for mercy.

I wasn’t called Fenrir the Destroyer for my gentleness.

She was my everything, and the vengeance I’d wrought upon his miserable life would be a warning to all who thought to hurt a woman.

And it was clear he saw that truth right across my face, because a second later he bared his teeth, faced my wife, and did grab a lock of her hair to rub it between his fingers. Prima clenched her teeth and smacked his hand away, that strength and fire I knew she held deep inside her rising up. She tried to take a step back, but after a struggle, I could now see the fucker had his booted foot blocking her from moving. I felt red cover my vision.

I was proud. So fucking proud of her. And that bastard would pay.

This inhumane sound left me, and I was storming toward him seconds later. He knew what was about to happen, because he grinned, turned to face me, and an excited, anxious expression covered his face.

Stiles charged forward, and we crashed together in the center of the corridor, our big bodies colliding. I wanted my sword to end this quickly, but I could fight just as brutally with my fists, and his suffering would be prolonged with the latter.

I slammed my knuckles against the side of his face, and his head cracked to the side, blood spraying out of his mouth and splattering the stone floor in crimson. I felt a surge of pleasure at that fact and hoped I’d broken his teeth from the impact.