Page 14 of Hungry Like a Wolf (Vikings Rock #3)

C armel stared around the grand home that belonged to King Ravn.

It was twice the size of the Great House in Tillicoulty.

Long and with shutters that could be opened and closed during the seasons.

A lengthy fire trough glowed with embers and the room was sectioned into what appeared to be a feasting area, a food preparation area, and a sleeping area.

There was also a screened section—thin branches wound tightly—that contained a fire and a large low barrel that was half full with water. The wall beside it was crowded with baskets, strips of fabric, and ropes of drying herbs.

“The season is on the turn and the weather warming,” Erin said, bustling past her with a stack of logs in her arms. “So the fires are not lit constantly.”

Carmel nodded.

Erin stooped beside the barrel and began stacking kindling and logs for a fire. “But we must light one now to warm the water.”

“‘Water’?”

“For you to bathe. The king will want to also.”

“He can use the bath.” She stepped away from it. “It is his home. It is his bath.”

“It is yours also.” Erin looked up at her. “That was his specific instruction to me, that you must feel at home here.”

“But I…” She frowned. “Surely, he means for me to sleep somewhere else. In another dwelling.”

“His wife, who is now in Valhalla feasting with Freya after dying in the battle of childbirth, slept in here, so why shouldn’t you?”

A shocked laugh escaped Carmel. “Because I am not his wife.”

Erin smiled up at her and scraped a flint. “No, you are not.”

“I cannot sleep in here.”

“Why not? It is the grandest dwelling in Drangar. The walls are solid, the floor well covered with rugs, and the beds are freshly made and warm.”

“‘Beds’?”

“ Ja , there are several.”

She nodded and noticed that through a doorway was a large bed covered in white furs, but also to the left was a small cot, similar to the one she’d used in Orm’s little home.

Erin saw her looking. “That is Thormod’s cot.”

“His son?”

“ Ja . Though he spends a lot of time with Helga and his cousins, especially now that the king has taken to raiding again.”

“He didn’t raid on this mission.” Carmel frowned. “It was peaceful.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So what are you?” She paused as the fire sprang to life. “If not the fruits of his pillaging.”

“I am not an object. I was not pillaged.”

Erin didn’t answer. She lifted a huge pot of water over the fire and added several long strands of lavender to it. “This will take a while to heat. Then we can add it into the barrel. I will go and fetch you some food. You must be hungry.”

She left Carmel alone in the large home that smelled of smoke and ash, and herbs and leather.

She walked around it, her legs still feeling odd, and studied a table holding several pieces of jewelry.

She picked up a brooch in the shape of a wolf’s head, the eye a small, amber gem.

Next she examined a necklace, the silver thick and heavy, the pendant a series of triangles set into each other and with another amber gem in the center.

Had they belonged to Ravn’s wife? Were they the adornments of a dead woman?

She moved to the right and came face to face with a large, stone statue clutching what looked like a bulky hammer. It had an angular square chin and narrowed eyes. At its base were several skeletons and a scattering of coins.

What was it?

“Thor.”

She gasped and turned around.

Ravn stood there, hands on his hips, feet apart, the shadows of the room dancing on his face and dark beard. “That is Thor’s image and a place for sacrifices to be made to him.”

She turned again to the skeleton. It looked like a rat. “You make sacrifices, here, in your home, to your gods?” The idea seemed particularly savage.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“No.” She removed her cloak, the room suddenly warm.

He took it and hung it on a hook to her right. “We make many sacrifices, especially at the great festival of Uppsalla,” he said. “Every nine years, we make the pilgrimage there, on foot, and beside the ancient sacred tree Yggdrasil, nine sacrifices are made of animal and man.”

“‘Man’?” Her eyes widened. “You kill men as sacrifices?”

“It is a great honor.” He walked to the water, setting another log on the flames beneath it. “To be chosen.”

“It sounds terrible.”

“Orm would agree with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

He turned. “Orm was chosen as one of the human sacrifices, but he refused.” Ravn’s face tightened. “It brought great shame to my father, who never forgave him.”

“But surely…” She held her hands out, palms up, the idea incomprehensible. “Surely, it was up to him. Orm’s decision whether or not to die.”

Ravn shrugged. “It was his decision to bring dishonor.”

“But, Ravn.” She stepped up to him. “Life is God’s precious gift to us, all of the gods’ gift to us. Surely, they don’t want us to die? Surely, they want us to live good lives in the service of others.”

“It is how we think differently. My gods await me to sup with them in Valhalla, to feast afresh each day on the most succulent meats and delicious fruit. It is an eternity I look forward to.”

“We really do think differently.” She turned, her hands clasped in prayer. What if they decided to sacrifice her to their big, stone god?

“Maybe one day you will understand,” he said, coming up behind her. Close, the way he had on the ship when they’d seen the delfins.

“I’m not sure I want to understand. Why would you want to be without your brother? I care for mine and wish him well.”

“You have met him. Orm.”

“Aye, and I can’t say I like him, but it’s a special bond between brothers, isn’t it?” She paused and closed her eyes. “Unless he has always been jealous of you and Haakon.”

“‘Jealous’?”

She turned and smiled up at his confused expression. “You are not like other brothers. You are not only twins, you are both powerful kings. You are both…”

“What?” He lowered his head a little.

Words tumbled around her mind. Brave. Handsome. Strong. Determined. But did she want to say them aloud and let Ravn known her thoughts on him?

“Tell me what you think of me?” he said quietly. “I want to know.”

“Why?” She swallowed and tried to tear her attention from his lips, which only reminded her of her first kiss.

“Because I am not a mind reader,” he said. “I wish to know your opinion of me now that you are safely arrived in Drangar.”

“Well.” She straightened her shoulders. “That is good that you are not a mind reader, because it is not one of the things I would use to describe you.” She stepped past him.

“So what words would you use?”

“At this point in time, smelly.” She piled her hair on top of her head and wrinkled her nose.

“That is hardly my fault.” He plucked at his tunic and sniffed. He wrinkled his own nose.

“I didn’t say it was, but I am going to bathe first, as I was invited to, so if you would excuse me.”

He followed her to the bathing area and leaned against a pillar, crossing one foot over the other, shoulder bunched on the wood. “This is my home. Why should I leave?”

“Because.” She used a small pail to scoop up hot water. “You said I’d be happy here, and for that, I need privacy.” She circled her finger in the warm water.

“You put a high price on your nakedness.”

She hesitated, then, “I know you are a man of your word, Ravn. That is one way I’d describe you.”

“I am!” He tilted his chin and straightened. “You are right. I am a man of my word.”

She smiled.

“I will leave you to recover from the journey, Princess. And while you do that, I will visit my son.” He turned and walked away.

She studied his broad back as he took long paces away from her.

He was even more regal here in his own kingdom.

He exuded the confident stance of a man with power and influence.

He was also a man with a quest to atone for his wrongdoings.

There was something about that which appealed to the Christian in her.

Perhaps there was hope for Ravn’s soul.

She lingered in the hot water. Erin brought her ale and a platter of salted fish and pickles along with chestnut hair cleanser that lathered up wonderfully.

Erin also brought clean clothes—the first in weeks—and when Carmel had dried and brushed her hair, it was luxurious to slip into soft pants and a warm, woven woolen tunic the color of the yellow flowers at home.

“You know of the king’s brothers and sister,” Erin asked.

“Aye, I do.”

“And what of them?”

“They are well. They are in the new kingdom of Tillicoulty.”

“Is that where you are from?”

“Not exactly.” She didn’t elaborate. Erin was a stranger. “King Haakon has taken a wife.”

“A crown and a wife.” Erin smiled. “The gods have been kind to him.”

“He appears happy.”

“And what is his wife like?”

“Queen Kenna.” Carmel thought for a moment. “She is kind, pretty of face, strong, so hopefully will bear him many sons.”

“I am pleased for Haakon. He was always kind to everyone he met.”

Carmel huffed. “Not if he met them on a battlefield.”

“Well, no, obviously. But he’s a warrior who demands victory. It is what he does. He defends what is his and takes what he wants. That is the path the gods set out for him.”

Carmel again stayed quiet. She was a stranger in these lands. To confess that her father’s army, with her in the wings, had attacked King Haakon could drop her in hot water of the unpleasant kind. “You are happy with Joseph? He is good to you?”

“ Ja , he is a man I admire.”

“Even though he is not from your lands.”

“The seer told my mother, when I was just a young girl, that my destiny would come to me from over the sea.” She stroked her belly. “That the fruits of my destiny would have blood that didn’t start flowing in the Northlands the way mine did.”

“You are…pregnant?”

Erin smiled. “I do not know for sure, but I hope so. I would like to give Joseph sons before he gets much older.”

Carmel was quiet as Erin brushed her hair again. In her world, the thought of a monk having a wife and child was ludicrous. Yet here…in this cold, jagged land, it wasn’t strange at all.

What else would she get used to before her mother’s army saved her?

If they ever saved her.

“Why are you here?” Erin asked suddenly.

“Why am I here?”

“ Ja .” She poured two jugs of ale. “What brought you to Drangar?”

“I had no choice.”

“What did you have no choice in?” A deep voice came from behind her.

Carmel turned.

Ravn stood there holding a small boy with blond hair cut as though a round bowl had been put on his scalp and everything below it shaved off.

“To be here.” She frowned.

“We all do things we have no choice in.”

“Like what?”

“Remember the delfins.” He bit his bottom lip and grinned. “I had no choice in doing something then. I was overcome with it.”

Instantly, she knew he was talking about their kiss. It was the way he looked at her with an intensity that had heat flowing into her veins in the same way it had when he’d kissed her.

“How could I forget?” She turned away, her cheeks burning.

“This is my son, Thormod.” He stooped and set the child down. “This will be his second summer.”

“Thormod.” Erin held out her arms to him. “Come. I have sweet rhubarb for you.”

“Wait,” Ravn said.

The child stopped and turned to his father with wide, blue eyes. “Say hello to Princess Carmel. Speak in the tongue of Joseph.”

Thormod turned to Carmel as though seeing her for the first time. He wasn’t shy. He stepped up close and peered at her eyes.

“Hello,” she said. “What is this?” She pointed at the little, wooden toy in his hand.

“ B?t .”

“Boat,” Ravn corrected. “Speak your new mother’s tongue.”

Thormod’s eyes widened and he turned to Ravn.

Carmel felt as shocked as little Thormod about the introduction but tried not to show it. “Can I see your boat?” she asked, forcing a smile.

He held it out to show her but didn’t hand it over.

“It’s a strong boat, good for big waves,” she said with a serious nod.

He didn’t speak and snatched the boat back to his chest.

“Come, Thormod. Let us find that rhubarb,” Erin said. “And let your father and new mother rest after their long journey.”

Quickly, Thormod turned and ran to Erin.

She hoisted him up into her arms. “I will take him until you ask for him or he asks for Helga.”

“Thank you.” Ravn nodded and stroked his son’s hair, a tender gesture that had his features softening.

Erin left the dwelling.

“You missed him.” Carmel nodded at the doorway.

“ Ja . He is my son. My blood.”

“He reminds me of my brother at that age. His hair was also the color of dawn light.”

Ravn sat and shoved at his boots. They fell to the floor with two bangs and he left them lying. He then stood and pulled at his top, dropping it over his boots. “This tunic needs burning.”

She didn’t reply.

He pulled his belt free, dropping it down with a clunk as the axe and dagger hit the floor. “And these. Also for burning.”

Next came his pants. He pushed them down his wide thighs, the left one dark with ink, and kicked them away.

Carmel gasped and spun around. “In God’s name, what are you doing?” The sight of his big cock flaccid against his dark body hair had made her heart skip a beat and shock rampage through her system.

“Bathing,” he said. “Unlike you, I do not hold such a high price on my naked body.”

She heard the slosh of water and his deep sigh of bliss.

Without a word, she walked past the fire trough, the statue of Thor, and into the bed area. She lay on the thick, white furs, drew up her knees, and closed her eyes.

Sleep. She needed sleep.

And if she prayed hard enough, maybe she’d wake up in her castle and this would all be a bad dream.