Page 14 of Viking (Dixie Reapers MC #24)

Karoline

I woke before the sun, my body tense despite the comfortable bed Viking had given me.

The unfamiliar shadows of his house took shape as dawn crept through the curtains -- rustic furniture, masculine angles.

Nothing like my cozy house with its throw pillows and framed photos.

Less than a week ago, I’d been a preschool teacher with a normal life.

Now I was hiding in a biker compound with my brother’s secret daughter, waiting for nameless government assassins to find us.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to squeeze comfort from its weight.

Sleep wouldn’t return now. Better to start the day, to try creating some semblance of normalcy for Athena.

The wooden floor was cold against my bare feet as I padded down the hallway, pausing to peek into Athena’s room. She was already awake, sitting up in bed with Hopper clutched to her chest, watching the door as if she’d been expecting me.

“Good morning, sweetie,” I whispered. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

She nodded once, sliding out of bed with Hopper still firmly in her grasp. I marveled at how silently she moved. No chattering, no running, none of the exuberant morning energy my preschoolers typically displayed. Just quiet watchfulness, taking everything in, trusting nothing.

“Pancakes okay?” I asked, setting Athena up at the table with a cup of apple juice.

Another nod as she tracked my movements as I fumbled through Viking’s kitchen. The coffee maker was acting up, even though it had worked perfectly fine before.

“You have to hold it down for three seconds,” came a deep voice from the doorway.

I jumped, nearly dropping the measuring cup in my hand. Viking stood there, his massive frame filling the space, hair loose around his shoulders. He wore a simple black T-shirt and jeans but somehow looked more intimidating without his leather cut than with it.

“Sorry,” he said, moving into the kitchen. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine. I’m just trying to…” I gestured helplessly at the coffee maker.

“Here.” He reached around me, his arm brushing mine as he pressed the button with practiced ease. The machine hummed to life, lights blinking as it began to heat. “It’s temperamental.”

“Thanks.” I was acutely aware of his proximity, the way he smelled of soap and something woodsy. “I was about to give up and make tea instead.”

“Blasphemy,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile softening his features. He turned toward the table. “Morning, little one.”

Athena didn’t respond, but she watched him with the same intensity she’d watched me, her small fingers tightening around Hopper.

“I’m making pancakes,” I said, returning to the bowl of unmixed batter. “There’s enough for you if you want some.”

“Wouldn’t turn down homemade pancakes.” Viking moved to the cabinet above my head, retrieving mugs with ease that made me feel small and awkward in comparison. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than expected,” I admitted, whisking the batter with more force than necessary. “Your house is quiet compared to mine. No traffic sounds.”

“One of the perks of living off the main road.” He leaned against the counter, watching me work. “You need help with that?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got it. Though I’m not sure where your frying pan is…”

Without a word, he opened a lower cabinet and produced a cast-iron skillet, setting it on the stove with a heavy clunk .

We moved around each other in the small kitchen space, a domestic dance that felt strangely natural despite the circumstances.

He poured coffee while I poured batter. I reached for plates as he grabbed silverware from the drawer.

Like we’d done this a hundred times before.

When the first pancakes were ready, I set a small plate in front of Athena, the pancake cut into bite-sized pieces with a drizzle of syrup. To my surprise, she pointed at the food, then at Viking’s empty plate.

“You want Viking to have pancakes too?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Well, look at that,” Viking said, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “Thank you, Athena. I’d love some pancakes.”

I served him a stack, our fingers brushing as I passed the plate. The contact sent a ridiculous flutter through my stomach, like I was fifteen again, mooning over my brother’s best friend.

“You’re good with her,” Viking observed, nodding toward Athena, who was carefully picking up each pancake piece with her fingers, Hopper sitting in her lap.

“I teach preschool,” I reminded him. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

“It’s more than that.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug. “You’ve got mothering instincts. She trusts you.”

I felt my cheeks warm at the compliment. “I don’t know about that. She barely speaks to me.”

“She doesn’t need to. Look how she watches you, follows your lead.” His eyes, bluer than I remembered, held mine. “You’re doing good, Karoline. Better than good.”

Something in the way he said my name made my heart trip over itself. This wasn’t the Viking who’d patted my head and called me “Little Kringle” all those years ago. This was a man looking at a woman, and the realization was both thrilling and terrifying.

“I should get going,” he said, breaking the moment as he stood to rinse his plate. “I have a meeting this morning. Tempest wants to review security protocols in light of…” He glanced at Athena, censoring himself. “You know.”

I nodded, disappointed despite myself. “We’ll be fine here.”

“There’s a barbecue over near the clubhouse this afternoon,” he said, grabbing his cut from the back of a chair. “Nothing fancy, just burgers and dogs, but there’ll be other kids there. Might be good for Athena.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, trying to picture my quiet niece among the children of bikers.

Before heading out, Viking surprised me by kneeling down to Athena’s level. His massive frame seemed to shrink, making himself less intimidating as he caught her eye.

“Thank you for sharing your pancakes, Athena,” he said, his voice rumbling low and gentle. “I’ll see you at the barbecue later, okay? Maybe we can find you a cookie for dessert.”

Athena studied him, her expression serious, before giving him the tiniest of nods. Not quite a smile, but something close to acceptance.

“All right then.” He stood, adjusting his cut. “I’ll see you both later.”

After the door closed behind him, I found myself staring at the empty space where he’d been, wondering at the way he’d transformed from the intimidating biker who’d met us at the gate to this man who knelt for a child and noticed things like “mothering instincts.” The Viking I’d known years ago had been Kris’s golden giant of a friend, someone who’d ruffled my hair and treated me like a kid sister.

This Viking was… something else entirely.

And the way my pulse quickened when he looked at me said I wasn’t immune to the change.

“Well,” I said to Athena, who had returned to her methodical consumption of pancake pieces, “we’ve got a barbecue to prepare for. Should we see what clothes we brought?”

She nodded, reaching for me with sticky fingers. I lifted her from the chair, breathing in the scent of syrup and child, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with mothering instincts and everything to do with the man who’d just left.

* * *

The area Viking had pointed out to me during our talk when I first arrived looked transformed in the afternoon sun.

String lights zigzagged overhead, unlit but waiting for dusk.

Portable speakers pumped out classic rock at a volume just loud enough to create atmosphere without drowning conversation.

Men in leather cuts manned smoking grills while children darted between picnic tables where women arranged platters of sides and desserts.

It was so normal -- a neighborhood barbecue with motorcycles instead of minivans -- that for a moment, I forgot why we were here.

Forgot about government conspiracies and the brother I’d lost. I adjusted Athena’s sunhat and squeezed her tiny hand.

“Look at all the people,” I said brightly.

“Isn’t this nice?” Her grip tightened on mine, her body pressing closer to my leg. Not convinced, then.

We hovered at the edge of the gathering, neither of us quite ready to dive in.

I’d dressed Athena in her best outfit -- a yellow sundress that made her copper curls shine like new pennies -- and spent twenty minutes braiding her hair into two neat plaits.

My own outfit -- jeans and a floral blouse -- suddenly felt too prim, too schoolteacher, compared to the women in cutoff shorts and tank tops who moved through the space with easy confidence.

“You must be Karoline.” A woman approached us, her smile warm and genuine. She was older than me, probably closer to Viking’s age, with streaks of silver in her dark hair and laugh lines around her eyes. “I’m Leah, Preacher’s wife. Viking told me to keep an eye out for you two.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, relieved to be acknowledged. “This is Athena.”

Leah knelt down, bringing herself to Athena’s eye level. “Well, aren’t you pretty as a picture. I love your braids. Did your auntie do those for you?”

Athena nodded, the tiniest movement, but didn’t speak.

“Viking said she’s shy,” Leah said, straightening up. “That’s okay. My girls were the same at her age. Come on, let me introduce you around.”

She led us toward a cluster of women setting out platters of potato salad and coleslaw. “Ladies, this is Karoline and Athena. Viking’s guests.”

The women welcomed us with varying degrees of warmth -- some merely nodding, others offering hugs and exclamations over Athena’s hair.

I caught bits of their stories as we helped arrange food: Darian was with Bull.

Amity was with Thunder but was also related to Hammer and Ghost. Kasen was with Tempest but was the daughter of Tank and Emmie.