Page 4 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

RAGNAR

T he first thing I feel upon waking is the cold.

Cold that has seeped into my flesh, my bones…

filled my lungs and my belly. The cold is so sharp, so intense, that it feels as if it’s slicing through my skin, clawing at my guts.

My head throbs, limbs heavy, and for a moment, I think I must be dying.

Yes…our ship was shot down, we were trying to evacuate, everything was shaking as we plummeted to the icy tundra of an unknown planet–

Something warm and wet brushes my face, a low, rumbling wine breaking through the panic. My eyes snap open, and I find myself staring into familiar, icy blue eyes.

“Fenrik,” I mumble, my voice grating against my long-unused throat.

I cough, and it feels like this must be the first time I’ve moved in weeks.

Fenrik is warm though, the skarnhound’s fur soft where he’s curled up in the crook of my arm.

The two of us barely fit in this confined space, but at least we’re both alive.

Now that I’ve said his name, Fenrik’s long tail wags slowly. He whines and begins to lick my face, and I lift my other hand to scratch behind his ears. For a moment, I let myself breathe, holding onto the one piece of familiarity in this disorienting void.

It’s dark here–extremely dark, so much that I can only see Fenrik due to the soft glow of his eyes.

I’m lying on my back, encased in…something.

The surface beneath me is soft, holding me as if it was moulded to my form.

I reach up with the hand that was scratching Fenrik and I splay my fingers out on what I believe must be ice…

but it soon becomes clear it’s glass. A hiss of vapor sounds as something activates, and holograms flicker to life overhead, showing my vitals.

…I’m inside a cryopod.

The pod opens slowly, allowing me to sit up.

Fenrik sits with me, whining again. Yes…

yes, I remember now. After the crash landing, we tried to call for help, but we knew our distress signal wouldn’t reach the rest of the scouting ships in time to save us.

That’s when we climbed into our cryopods, hoping that someone would find us.

It does not appear I was found–at least not by allies. There are no other Skoll here, and I seem to be entirely alone.

My muscles groan in protest as I look around, neck cracking.

The air smells faintly metallic, tinged with something sharp and artificial.

My eyes scan the space as much as I can, only able to see a little in the darkness.

Something is broken in the distance, letting out faint crackles of light every so often.

Off to the left, sleek panels display faintly glowing consoles lining the walls.

This technology is advanced, and there’s only one species I’m aware of that has this kind of tech.

Boreans.

I’ve been captured.

The thought brings my panic raging back, and my instincts kick in. I climb out of the pod, Fenrik hopping out with me. My balance wavers for a moment, but I grip the edge of the pod, steadying myself as my head swims. This is just cryo-sleep sickness…nothing to be worried about.

What’s more concerning is the fact that I’ve lost my crew, and I’m entirely alone in Borean clutches.

The cold nips at my skin, only enough to slightly bother me–but that must mean it’s very, very cold.

I reach back into the pod, searching for the furs I’m certain I would have worn inside.

I find them a moment later, then I drape the cloak around my shoulders.

My body heat should be enough to sustain me here–the Skoll are a hardy species–but wherever I am, I want plenty of protection from the elements.

Fenrik stays close to my side, soft blue ears perked up.

“Where are they, Fenrik?” I ask.

He seems to have as little idea of where we are–or where the rest of my crew is–as I do.

My eyes adjust to the light, finding shapes and color in the glow of the flickering displays.

The room is vast, dimly lit, and filled with massive columns of ice encased in glass.

Some are damaged, though it looks like the damage was recent; perhaps my people came here to rescue me, and they’re fighting in the levels above right now.

I reach for the blades strapped to either thigh, finding them there as always–so at least I wasn’t disarmed by the enemy.

Good. If this is a Borean facility, I won’t go down without a fight. I grip the blade tighter as I glance down at Fenrik, who is sniffing the air. His tail gives a hesitant wag.

“What is it?” I murmur.

Fenrik whines softly and presses against my leg before lifting one paw and pointing his snout into the distance. He’s found something—or someone. My heart thuds painfully in my chest as I follow his gaze, finding no sign of what’s attracted his attention.

But then I smell it.

It’s faint at first, mingling with the sterile, metallic tang of the air.

But as I focus, it grows stronger—a scent unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.

Warm, sweet, and rich, with hints of something primal and deeply familiar.

It tugs at my senses, curling deep into my gut and setting my blood alight. It’s intoxicating, almost overwhelming…

…and completely out of place in a cold, sterile environment like this.

I take a step forward, trying to trace the source. Fenrik lets out a low bark, his tail wagging more enthusiastically now, and I narrow my eyes.

“What is that?” I whisper, more to myself than to Fenrik.

It’s not Borean. It can’t be. Boreans smell of rot and corrupted Elixir. This…this is something else entirely. Something alive.

Something…irresistible.

Unease prickles along my spine.

The scent tugs at me, a pull so strong it’s almost magnetic.

It’s as if it’s calling to me, whispering in a language I don’t understand but feel compelled to follow.

My instincts scream at me to move, to find it, to claim it—but I force myself to stay grounded.

This could be a trap. The Boreans are cunning, and they know how to play with a Skoll’s senses.

But…no. This doesn’t feel like a trap. It feels…right.

I shake my head, growling softly to clear my thoughts.

Even if it’s a trap, I have no other paths forward. I may as well follow the scent…and fight for my life, if that’s what it comes to.

I crouch low, my blade ready, and gesture for Fenrik to follow as I move toward the source of the scent.

The faint crackle of broken equipment echoes through the space, and the ground beneath my fur-lined boots is slick with frost. I step carefully, my muscles coiled and ready to spring at the slightest sign of danger.

The scent grows stronger with every step, and my pulse quickens.

My body feels too hot, my skin too tight, and it takes everything in me to focus on the task at hand.

This is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It’s not just a smell—it’s a presence, something that resonates deep within me, stirring primal instincts.

If I didn’t know any better…no, it couldn’t be.

My people rarely find their fenvarra–their fated one–and to find them here would be too strange a twist of fate.

Though perhaps Yrsa sent me here for a reason.

I reach the edge of the chamber and pause, pressing my back against the cold wall as I peer around the corner.

The corridor beyond is brighter than the one I woke up in, overhead lights flickering sporadically.

High above me, I can see the faint light of an aurora in the sky…

which must mean there’s an exit somewhere nearby.

The scent is stronger here, nearly overpowering, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from growling.

Fenrik brushes against my leg, his ears perked and his tail wagging so hard I can hear it swishing.. He doesn’t seem alarmed–more excited. And if it is my fenvarra, my loyal skarnhound would be able to scent that connection.

Are they in danger? Afraid?

I have to help them.

“Stay close,” I murmur, my voice low and rough.

The corridor stretches ahead, lined with what look like storage chambers.

Some doors are ajar, revealing rows of cylinders filled with ice and glowing softly.

Others are sealed shut, their access panels flickering with damage.

The air is colder here, the frost thick on the walls and floor, and my breath fogs in front of me as I move forward.

The scent tugs at me, urging me to move faster, but I keep my steps measured and deliberate. If there’s something— or someone—here, I won’t let my guard down. Not until I know what I’m dealing with.

And then I hear it.

A faint sound, barely audible over the hum of the facility. It’s soft and rhythmic…breathing. My head snaps toward it, locking onto the sound as I move closer, my heart pounding in my chest. The scent grows stronger, almost unbearable now, and every instinct in me screams that I’m close.

I round another corner and freeze.

There, half-buried in a pile of rubble, is a figure–small, fragile, and unmistakably alive. The scent radiates from them in waves, wrapping around me, consuming me. My breath catches in my throat as I take a step closer, looking them over.

…a female.

A species I’ve never seen before.

Her skin is light brown, her dark hair bound into a thick braid and dusted with frost, and her chest rises and falls with shallow, labored breaths.

Blood smears one side of her face, and her clothes–bizarre and thick and colorful–are torn in places, revealing scrapes and bruises.

She’s unconscious, her head resting at an awkward angle against the rubble.

I look above and see a broken pathway of twisted metal.

She fell. She’s hurt.

I stare at her, my mind racing. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t exist here. And yet…she does.

The scent—her scent—wraps around me, sinking into my skin and filling my lungs. It’s her. She’s the source. And there’s no mistaking what that means.

Fenvarra.

The word echoes through my mind, fierce and unyielding.

This woman—this stranger—is my fenvarra.

My fated mate.

For a moment, I can’t move. Can’t think. All I can do is stare at her, the bond already tugging at my soul, demanding that I protect her. Claim her.

A low growl builds in my throat as I move closer, dropping to my knees beside her. Fenrik whines softly, nudging her with his nose, and I reach out a trembling hand to brush a dark curl from her face. My fingers tingle as they make contact with her skin, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me.

She’s so small. So fragile.

Mine to protect and cherish.

“Fenrik,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion. “We need to get her out of here.”

I slip my arms beneath her, lifting her carefully from the rubble. She’s warm against me, her scent enveloping me, and for the first time since waking, I feel a strange sense of calm.

Whatever happens next, I won’t let her out of my sight.

And together, we’ll escape Borean clutches and return to Kanin…where I will make her my bride.