Page 17 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

ELENA

I wake up to the sensation of something warm and solid beneath my cheek.

For a moment, I don’t remember where I am…or who I’m with. But then the gentle rise and fall of Ragnar’s breathing, steady and calm, anchors me in the present.

My eyes flutter open and I look up at him.

He’s elevated his head on some pillows, partially sitting up–probably for his antlers, I guess. His arm is still around me and I’m tucked into his side. Dressed in the PJ pants we got him yesterday and a silky long robe, he looks…

…well, normal.

And devastatingly handsome.

The usual tension in his brow has faded away, leaving his strong features relaxed, full lips slightly parted.

His long dark hair tumbles over his shoulders, braids unfurled after his shower last night; his beard, still braided, is soft where it brushes against my temple.

His skin glimmers bronze even in the darkness, robe open to reveal his chest.

I want to touch him.

Last night…it was everything to me. I worried that he would make an advance on me when I really wasn’t in the right headspace for it, but he didn’t.

He just listened while I spoke in a language he doesn’t understand, looked when I showed him pictures.

My family is okay, but that hurricane…it was just more proof that my research can’t wait.

I think he would support me through that.

I think he would get it.

I let myself linger, soaking in the perfection of this moment. Ragnar’s arm is curled around me, his hand resting on my hip as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. His warmth seeps into me and I realize how much I’ve wanted this–this closeness, this feeling of complete safety.

And he smells incredible, just like he did that first day but better. Like my preferred soap mixed together with the natural scent of pine and firewood and…well, man.

I bite my lip, fighting the absurd thought that flashes through my mind: This man is built like a god.

Every inch of him is hard muscle, sculpted and powerful.

His chest rises and falls beneath my hand, broad and steady, and I can feel the ripple of strength beneath his skin even in stillness.

Historians who study the Lost Expeditions think that humans made contact with the Skoll a long time ago, that some stayed on Earth and became what we thought of as gods… and I believe it.

I move just slightly, and Ragnar’s eyes flutter open, revealing that starry, alien shade of bright silver-blue. He looks down at me and a lazy smile crosses his features. He doesn’t let me go; he pulls me closer.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Elena,” he rumbles.

I melt against him, wanting to stay here forever. I’m not thinking about anything else right now…just the fact that there’s a gorgeous man in my bed, half-naked, and he’s fully convinced that I’m his one true love or something. It’s better than anything I could have possibly imagined for myself.

I push myself up to get on the level with him, our lips just inches apart. Ragnar’s other hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb skating across my cheekbone.

“Fenvarra,” I whisper, hesitant.

His brow furrows, searching my gaze. I feel his pulse pick up underneath my hand. He’s asking a silent question, the moment stretching taut, and I nod slowly…

Our eyes shut.

His breath is against my lips.

He’s kissing me.

It’s not intense…not physically anyway. It’s not the kind of first, passionate, uncontrollable kiss you’d see in a sweeping romance. Not pushy, not desperate. He kisses me slow and steady and cautious.

That’s where the lack of intensity ends though…because emotionally?

I’m freaking out.

My hands begin to shake as my fingers curl against his muscled chest, and his strong arm pulls me slightly closer, flush against him. I moan softly and our lips part purely so he can growl out my name.

“Elena…fenvarra…”

Then the kiss gets intense, needy. I hook my leg over his waist and he makes this low, masculine sound that sends a jolt of arousal straight between my thighs.

Ragnar’s tongue slides along the seam of my lips and I open for him, pulling him toward me as he positions himself over me, between my legs–

Knock knock knock.

Fenrik growls as we jerk apart, and I can barely get myself together as my head swims. “What the heck?” I mutter, rolling out of bed. Ragnar is already getting up, right on my heels as I go to the main room–and through the frosted glass window beside the door, I see a whole bunch of people.

They’re wearing hazmat suits.

My heart races, the haze of the kiss evaporating instantly. Ragnar steps up beside me, his imposing frame towering, while Fenrik gets on my other side, hackles raised. I turn around, putting my hands up to try to calm them as I back toward the door.

“Stay calm, okay?” I beg, wishing he could understand me. “I’m going to talk to them.”

Another round of sharp, impatient knocks sounds, and Fenrik snarls. Ragnar doesn’t look any less threatening, glaring at the door, fists clenched at his sides.

“I’ll handle it,” I say. “Just…please stay calm.”

Ragnar relaxes just slightly, reaching down to hold Fenrik back, and I open the door.

The cold rush of air hits me first, followed by the sight of a small army of scientists and guards, all outfitted like they’re preparing for an outbreak. At the forefront is Renata Kallipso, her face half-hidden by a mask, but I can see her expression is tense.

“Elena,” she says, her voice clipped. “We need to speak with you.”

“Now?” I glance back at Ragnar, whose presence looms like a storm behind me. “This isn’t exactly the best?—”

“Step aside,” she cuts me off, gesturing to the group behind her. “We need to quarantine him immediately.”

My stomach drops. “Quarantine?” My voice rises, frantic. “What are you talking about? Ragnar isn’t?—”

“Potential pathogen exposure,” she interrupts. “We can’t risk him introducing ancient diseases to the general population. ”

I try to block the doorway, my arms spread wide. “He’s fine! He’s not sick. And he’s already been roaming around, Professor Ferhalda said it would be okay–”

“Elena,” Dr. Kallipso says sharply, her gaze cutting through me. “This isn’t up for debate. Step aside.”

Ragnar’s voice comes from behind me, deep and threatening. He steps forward and I see the look on Renata’s face–disapproving, shocked at seeing us like this. We haven’t even done anything, but I can already feel my funding slipping through my fingers.

“Ragnar,” I say quickly, turning to face him, palms up. “It’s okay. They’re just being cautious. We just need to stay calm and get dressed and go–”

“No!” his voice booms. “Stay…fenvarra–”

The sound of a tranquilizer gun cocking cuts him off. My blood runs cold as I whip around to see one of the guards raising a dart gun.

“Wait!” I shout, stepping in front of Ragnar. “You can’t just–”

It’s too late. The first dart flies.

Ragnar moves with inhuman speed, knocking the dart out of the air with his hand.

The second one, aimed at Fenrik, hits its mark, and the skarnhound lets out a sharp yelp.

He stumbles, his legs wobbling as he tries to stay upright, but the tranquilizer takes hold quickly.

He collapses to the floor with a low whine.

Ragnar’s roar is deafening.

He charges forward, his eyes blazing with fury, but another dart hits his shoulder. He barely flinches, ripping it out and tossing it aside as though it were nothing. The guards backpedal, their movements frantic as they reload.

“Ragnar, stop!” I scream, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back. “Please, you’re only making it worse!”

He looks down at me, his expression wild and betrayed, but the fight in his eyes falters. For a moment, I think he’s going to listen—until the third dart hits him square in the chest.

“No,” I whisper as his knees buckle.

He sways, his breath ragged, but his gaze stays locked on mine, one hand shooting out to steady himself. “Elena,” he rasps.

Ragnar collapses before he can finish my name, his massive frame hitting the ground with a heavy thud beside Fenrik. The sound echoes in my ears, and my breath catches as I drop to my knees beside him.

“Ragnar…Fenrik…” My voice cracks as I press my hand to Ragnar’s chest, feeling the steady but sluggish thrum of his heartbeat. He’s still breathing, but it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

Dr. Kallipso steps forward, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Elena, I know this is upsetting, but you need to listen to me.”

I glance up at her, blinking back tears. “You didn’t have to sedate them! He wasn’t going to hurt anyone!”

“He’s unpredictable,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “You saw that for yourself. We can’t risk him harming someone—or himself. It’s for his safety as much as anyone else’s.”

I glare at her, my voice trembling with anger. “You don’t know him. He’s not some monster.”

Her expression tightens, and she crouches slightly to meet my gaze. “I don’t think he’s a monster, Elena. But he’s not like us. He’s from a time and place we don’t fully understand. Until we can be sure he’s safe—medically and otherwise—this is necessary. You have to see that.”

I shake my head, my fingers curling against Ragnar’s chest. “He’s already been around people! We were just at the park yesterday, he was playing with his dog. Professor Ferhalda said?—”

“Ferhalda isn’t in charge of this situation,” Dr. Kallipso interrupts, her voice firm but not cruel.

“I’m the one who dropped the ball as chief supervisor at the Eiskammer, and the protocols are clear.

Any potential exposure to ancient pathogens must be contained and studied before reentry into the population. ”

“And what about me?” I snap. “I’ve been with him this whole time. If he’s carrying something, wouldn’t I already?—”

“You’ll be tested too,” she says, standing straight again. “You’ll both be taken to a secure facility. He’ll have access to medical care, translators, and anything else he needs to adjust to this world. And you’ll be there to help him–just for a few days.”

Her words take a moment to sink in. “I’ll…be with him?”

“Yes,” she says. “You’ll have to come with us. But we’ll give you time to get dressed and pack what you need. He’ll be transported first.” Her gaze flicks over me, and I catch the faintest hint of disapproval. “I suggest you take a moment to…compose yourself.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I realize how this must look—Ragnar shirtless on the floor, me in my wrinkled pajamas, my hair a mess.

But the sting of embarrassment is quickly swallowed by worry as I look back at him.

He looks so vulnerable, so unlike the towering, unbreakable warrior I’ve come to know.

“I need to go with him now,” I say, my voice shaking.

Dr. Kallipso shakes her head. “We’ll take him first. He needs immediate attention. You’ll follow in a separate transport shortly after. This isn’t negotiable, Draycott.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes tells me it’s pointless. I glance down at Ragnar again, brushing a strand of his dark hair away from his face. He’s still warm, still breathing steadily. I try to tell myself that he’ll be okay, but it feels hollow.

Dr. Kallipso steps back, giving a signal to the team. Two Skoll guards move forward, lifting Ragnar’s unconscious form onto a stretcher with some effort. Two more carefully lift Fenrik, cradling the massive skarnhound and loading him onto a separate stretcher.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Be gentle with them.”

“We will,” Dr. Kallipso says. “They’re not our enemies, Elena. But we need to do this right.”

I watch helplessly as they carry Ragnar and Fenrik out of the cottage. The cold rushes in through the open door, but I barely feel it. My heart aches as the door closes behind them, leaving me alone in the now-quiet space.

Dr. Kallipso lingers for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “You care about him,” she says, not as a question but as a statement.

I nod, unable to speak.

“Then help him by cooperating,” she says. “He’ll need you when he wakes up.”

With that, she turns and follows the team outside, leaving me standing there, trembling and overwhelmed. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and move to pack what little I can.

Because she’s right. Ragnar will need me.

And I’ll be damned if I let him face this alone.