Page 1 of Hungry Like a Wolf (Vikings Rock #3)

K ing Ravn, son of Rhalson and ruler of Drangar, slit the throat of a dark-brown rat and laid it on a wooden shelf as an offering to Thor.

Ravn’s chest was tight and his body as heavy as steel.

He knew his heart beat because his pulse thudded in his ears, but why it still did… how it still could… he didn’t know.

“Almighty one,” he said, dropping to his knees and clasping his hands on his thighs, “I give you this offering in the hope of forgiveness.” He might have been a king, but right now, it felt as though the gods cared nothing for him. And he knew why.

“I beg for your forgiveness, Thor,” he repeated, looking up at the stone statue with the square chin, narrowed eyes, and bulky hammer. “I wanted power so badly that I did not think like a king. I stooped low to take that power, so low, and it has cost me dearly. It has cost me everything.”

It was true he still had his infant son, Thormod, and his people still respected him, but Ravn was desolate.

“I have paid the price,” he said, his throat constricting as he fought emotion.

“You took my father to Valhalla to feast with you not a week after my twin brother, Haakon, left Drangar, taking my sister, Astrid, and brother Orm with him. My father’s broken heart was no longer able to beat without them. ”

He paused, thinking of the moment he’d found his aged father dead in his bed, his mouth open and his wise, old eyes unseeing. He’d been holding a small figure of a horse Astrid had carved for him many years ago. “And my wife…dear, sweet Siggy, you took her too, along with our unborn child.”

He paused, unable to speak, and added several apple offerings, setting them neatly alongside the rat.

“You have punished me enough,” he said. “And I have learned my lesson. I promise you and the All Father and all the almighty gods that I will atone for my actions, that I will make good my wrongs.” He picked up a goblet of wine and poured a few splashes beside the apples and over the rat.

“Please accept these gifts and sacrifice. I beg you to reroute my destiny. To send me on a path of purpose and victory so that for the rest of the moons of my life, I can serve.”

He closed his eyes. Outside his grand longhouse in Drangar, the easterly wind buffeted the roof and door. Thormod slept in his cot and his slave and friend Joseph had left some time ago.

He was glad that Thormod had settled. Since losing his mother, he’d been fractious and weepy, asking for her constantly and holding out his arms as if reaching for her. He just didn’t understand.

It broke Ravn’s heart all the more.

A single tear escaped and he dashed it away. He was a king! He didn’t cry. He was a Viking warrior, a wolf of the seas, a raider and ruler. He was made of steel interwoven with passion and intelligence.

Except all of those qualities felt like they belonged to a different man right now. It was as if he’d shrunk inside, shriveled, and he didn’t know how to stand tall again.

With a sigh, he walked to the fire trough. He added a few more logs to keep the longhouse warm overnight. Not that he was likely to sleep himself. Sleep was as elusive as a white elk these days.

He poured mead and sat on a chair soft with furs and watched the flames leaping to life, curing around the wood, licking and stroking as though caressing it.

He missed his wife’s touch, her scent, her sweet taste.

Would he ever marry another, or was she his destiny? Was Thormod to be his only son?

A dog barked outside and within a few seconds came the loud rattle of hailstones on the roof and far wall.

Ravn looked over at the image of Thor. He was the ruler of hail. Had he heard Ravn’s words? Seen his desperation? Was he replying?

The clatter increased, becoming deafening, and he hoped it wouldn’t wake his son.

Astrid’s face came to mind, so pretty yet vicious with it.

He’d never quite known how to handle his sister the way Haakon had.

Never been able to get more than a few minutes of softness from her.

But if she were at his side now, she’d remind him of the ninth runestone, Hagalaz—hail—a stone that caused mayhem and disruption.

It was a call to change within the lack of control it created.

And that was how he felt now. Out of control. Not of his lands and people, but of his life and of his destiny.

Hagalaz wasn’t a bad rune. It gave the opportunity for a reset to true values when the truth had become blurred.

And his truth had become blurred. His family was either dead or gone—his child was still his family, just too young to be what he was looking for—and despite being surrounded by the good people of Drangar, he was alone.

He supped his mead and wished he knew what to do to shake his grief and lethargy. Right now, he was not a good king for his people.

He scrubbed his hand over his face before tugging at his beard and the small beads plaited into it. He should eat, but his appetite had left him.

Perhaps he would feel like eating in a while.

The pelting hail stopped as quickly as it had begun and he closed his eyes, resting his head back on the furs. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth and he tried to relax the best he could.

Soon his thoughts went to his twin brother. Haakon was always quick to smile, to help someone, to tell sagas to the children of the village. The opposite of Ravn, he knew that. It just wasn’t in Ravn’s nature to waste time on trivial pursuits or things that didn’t benefit him directly.

And that streak in his nature had cost him a lot in his life. Luckily, Siggy had seen past it, to the person beneath his hard exterior. But no one else ever had.

Everyone else saw him as brittle, brackish, ambitious, and dogmatic. A man who decided on a goal and went for it, knocking everyone out of the way to get there.

Haakon’s face still hovered in his mind. An image from the moment when he’d been on the ground, beaten, with Ravn’s dagger aimed at his chest and ready to drive into his heart.

His eyes had flashed with sadness—sadness that the brother with whom he’d shared a womb had been about to take the life they’d started out on together.

Remorse tore through Ravn. He’d been so determined to be king, his ambition a real living creature inside of him, that he’d been ready to take the life of the one person who had always had his back.

The brother he could rely on for anything.

A man who had morals and love in his core and didn’t deserve to die.

Thank goodness their father, Urd, had stopped him from carrying out the murder he’d been about to commit all in the name of a crown.

He opened his eyes, walked to the table, and poured more mead. A sudden pang hit him. He missed his brother.

He missed Astrid and Orm, too, even though they were annoying and whimsical in that order.

They were his kin. And he didn’t even know where they were.

After taking a few big gulps of his drink, he walked to a carving on the wall.

It was of a longboat with a great curled bow in the shape of a snake’s head.

Oars stuck from the sides, dipping into neat, semicircle waves.

A line of shields ran the length of the boat and a sail puffed out above.

It reminded him of the new boat Tyr had recently completed.

A fine vessel that had yet to make its maiden voyage.

A noise to his right caught his attention. He frowned. What was it?

And then he saw that one of the apples he’d laid out for Thor had rolled clean off the wooden plinth and onto the floor, where it had stopped beside a table holding his sun-shadow board. Inherited from his father, it was a device for navigating the high seas.

His breath caught in his throat and he set down his drink. Was this a sign from the gods? From Thor himself?

A sign that he should travel on the very boat he was thinking of to find his siblings?

His heart rate picked up and with it, a spark of hope, a nugget of ambition again. Did Thor want him to set out on a quest to find Haakon and heal the rifts he’d gorged so deep? Was there a space for Astrid and Orm in his life again?

“Thor. Wise one.” He walked to the monument and rested his hands on the cool stone.

“I believe you have told me what I must do. And I will do it. I will right my wrongs so that the gods put me back on the true path of my destiny. In your name, and in the name of the All Father, I will succeed. I will atone.” His words were clipped and determined and he could almost smell the ocean and feel the rock of the boat beneath his feet.

Whatever it took, however far he must travel, whatever battles he must brave, it was time to move his life on and face the future as a man, a king, and a brother.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The gentle sound on the door wasn’t the wind and Ravn turned to it. “Enter.” He glanced at the sleeping child in the cot.

Thormod didn’t stir.

The door opened and Helga slipped in with her hood pulled up tight and snow covering her boots. She stamped on the straw covered floor and pushed back her hood. “Your Grace. I have come to check on Thormod.”

“Come. Come.” He gestured to his friend, who had now become his child’s caretaker. “Sit. I wish to speak with you.”

She stepped into the warmth, pushing her hood from her head and letting her long, blonde hair tumble free.

“I have made a decision,” he told her.

“You have, Your Grace?” Her eyes widened.

“ Ja . And at the morrow, I will set my new plan in motion.”

She sat on the chair next to his and held her palms to the fire. “And what is this grand plan? You appear excited about it.”

He poured a horn of mead and passed it to her. “I am.”

She sipped her drink and raised her eyebrows. “So? What is it?”

“Ah.” He tapped the side of his nose and grinned. “That is for me to know and you must wait to find out.”

“I am intrigued.” She swiped her tongue over her lips and smiled at him, tipping her head so her hair fell over her right shoulder.

“Oh, but…” He frowned, knowing he’d raised her hopes. “I am not going to make you my queen. Do not think that, Helga.”

A flash of disappointment crossed her eyes and she quickly looked away, staring at the fire.

“I am sorry.” He was only half sorry because she might as well know she wasn’t queen material. He had no intention of ever marrying Helga despite their closeness.

“It is your prerogative as king,” she said, “to choose a wife. A wife you think will make a wise and brave queen and if that is not me, then I understand. My blood is not royal and if it is the gods’ bidding that it never is, I will accept my destiny.”

“Mmm.” He hesitated, trying to think what Haakon might say in this situation. He was much better with words that dealt with emotions. “I know you’ve held my hand and wiped my tears these last months, and I thank you.”

She huffed out a breath. “I have never seen a tear, Your Grace, and I’ve held your cock as much as your hand.”

He shrugged. Perhaps sentiment didn’t suit him, after all. “That is probably true.”

“It is how I have seen it.” She took a drink then leaned forward and tore off a piece of bread. “How is Thormod today?”

“He has cried for his mother. His tears seem endless.”

“Poor little thing.” She looked into the quiet shadows. “It will take time; that is what heals.”

“But if that is the case, I fear he will forget her eventually. I fear I will too.” He frowned and summoned Siggy’s pretty face with her eyes as blue as a summer’s day and her lips soft and kissable and always ready to smile. He’d been a lucky man.

But she was gone now.

The same as everyone else.

“The gods have been harsh to you, but you still have your son—you must be thankful for that,” Helga said softly.

“I am.” He pressed his hand to his heart. “But he reminds me of everything I have lost.”

She finished her food and drink and slipped to the floor at his side, legs folded and her hands on his thighs.

She looked up at him, the light from the flames dancing on her face.

“Some things that are lost can be found.” She studied his eyes.

“Is that what your new plan is? To go looking…for them?”

He laughed, not with much humor, but at least it was a change from scowling. “How is it you know me so well?”

“I have known you since we were each no taller than a goat and our pleasures came from poking at the fish in the creek, gathering smooth stones from the beach, and tormenting the frogs when they leaped from the spring water beside the well.”

“ Ja , we have been there for each other for many summers and winters. You should know that I will not desert you or my people for long. I wish for health and prosperity and new trading routes and partners.”

“That is good to hear.” She nodded and then tipped her head, studied him. “We have been there for each other even more so this winter.”

He took a sip of his drink and listened to a roll of thunder in the distance. It was true. Helga had been a comfort to him since he’d lost Siggy. She always seemed to be there when his mood was nudging toward black. “Our pleasures are different now we are no longer children.”

“They are, Your Grace.”

He watched her mouth moving as she spoke.

“Would you like pleasure now?” She glanced downward, at his lap, as though seeing his cock through his clothing.

He swallowed as a rush of heat went to his groin. “ Ja .”

“Then let me give it to you.” She ran her palms up his thighs and tickled her fingers over him, stroking his now-stiffening cock.

Her mouth on him would be a balm for his pain and a welcome distraction from his grief. “Even though I will not make you queen?” He stroked her hair. “You still…?”

“ Ja , for I am here to serve you, my king, and help you in any way I can.” She pulled at his pants.

He lifted up so she could free his cock.

She gave him a sultry smile and licked her lips. And then her hands were on him, stroking him just the way he liked, firm and slow with her thumb smoothing around his tip.

He sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes.

After a flick of her tongue, warm heat enveloped his shaft and he slipped his fingers into her silky hair.

Quickly, he reached full hardness and his balls tingled. She was good at this, her lips taut and her fingers busy, even though there was no emotion there, the act verging on hollow because he knew he’d never love her truly and deeply.

He groaned as his belly tightened. But he was in no rush. The dark night was long and his own thoughts monotonous.

“ Ja , like that,” he said on an exhalation. “Keep going.”

She didn’t answer, just kept adoring him with her mouth, unhurriedly pushing him toward a climax that he knew would be intense and fulfilling in a physical sense, if not an emotional one.

And then…then he would start planning his travels west.