THE HORSES WERE restless. Freyja moved among them with a quiet murmur, soothing where she could and darting glances over her shoulder at the man by the doors.

Rurik peered through the slightly ajar door, lightning flickering over his masculine features and carving shadows across his stark cheekbones. He didn’t move, but his eyes darted, searching the skies above as if he truly expected to see something there.

“This is ridiculous,” Freyja murmured. “The wyrm will not be out this night. He will be sleeping in his lair, purring like a kitten.”

“Dreki. Not wyrm.” A flash of irritation crossed his face, then his eyes turned cunning. “You have seen him, you claimed.”

Her hand slid to a halt against Hanna’s neck.

“For few would describe it quite like that,” he continued, lightning turning his face stark for a moment, his eyes as intense as the storm as they locked on her. “You have seen the dreki.”

Freyja turned her face away, stroking Hanna’s velvety muzzle. “I just wanted my ram back. I paid little attention to the dreki."

“Liar.”

Freyja’s head jerked up. Rurik eased the door shut and turned to her with a smile in the near-darkness.

Moving toward her on graceful feet, he reached out and held his fingers for Hanna to sniff. The mare snorted and backed away, but Rurik never took his gaze off Freyja.

“Where did you see him, Freyja?” Soft words, barely a whisper, but oh, it set her body on fire.

And that was foolish, for she had never felt this way for a man.

She moved to step around him, but he reached out and shoved a palm flat against the partition between each stall. Freyja’s breath caught as Rurik pressed close, heat swimming in the air between them. She couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping; her hands came up between them as if to shove him away. Or perhaps not. She wasn’t certain. What did she know of him truly? Dark stables, no one else in the vicinity. Freyja’s eyes narrowed. If his intentions were less than noble, then he was about to get the shock of his life.

Reaching out, she tasted the storm, feeling the coiling power within it. Come then, she dared him as she stared into those gleaming eyes.

“I would not hurt you,” he replied slowly. “You have nothing to fear, not that way. I told you this would be your choice.”

That voice. She shivered, her clenched knuckles brushing against the edges of his coat. Soft wool. So warm from the heat of his body. The desire to reach out and touch him was staggering.

I have everything to fear.

Rurik’s face darkened as he watched her. “You are so wary. Has a man ever tried to… to hurt you?”

Benedikt. She shoved the thought away. It didn’t matter, and she’d proven she was hardly defenseless. Benedikt had stopped trying to force kisses on her years ago, and had begun to threaten instead. “You should be kind to me, Freyja. Your father is frail—who shall you turn to when he is gone?” Leaning close, hissing in her ear, “Perhaps I should tell him what his daughter has been up to? What man would want to defend her if I name her witch?”

Rurik saw the truth in her face. His eyelashes fluttered down, obscuring those magnificent eyes, but for a second she thought she saw rage there.

Outside, the storm suddenly broke over the town, wind screaming through the streets and tearing the shutters from their moorings. The horses spooked, even as a lash of sudden power swept through the air. A fierceness. A fury. For a second, she could almost believe his talk of dreki that rode the storm with their anger, whipping it along.

His face lowered, cheek pressed almost to hers, his lips not quite brushing her ear. “Tell me his name.”

“He is nothing,” she replied, feeling strangely protected. The cage of Rurik’s arms, his body, sheltered her from the chill, and some part of her felt safe for the first time in years. It was insane. She barely knew this man.

Hot breath against her skin made her shiver. “Tell. Me. His. Name.”

“He is a local landowner near my village,” she blurted. “What does it matter? You will never know him. You are a traveler and shall move on soon, and I—”

“Freyja.”

“His name is Benedikt!” she snapped, her chest heaving. “For all the good it shall do you. You’ll be gone in days, collecting your stories, your eddas. Seeking your dragons!”

“Dreki,” he corrected again, thumb stroking her trembling lower lip. “They are dreki. Ancient spirits. Ancient power. And what makes you think I am going anywhere?”

She could barely see, but knew he turned to look at her, for she felt the stir of his breath move across her heated skin. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Don’t pretend elsewise. I know men like you.”

“Oh, Freyja... you know no one like me. That I promise you.” Fingertips brushed against her other cheek. “Why do you always defy me?”

“You have not seen defiance yet. I barely know you.”

“You know me,” he replied. Fingertips brushed over her dress, between her breasts, the backs of his knuckles pressing against the racing thud of her heartbeat. “You know me here.”

She had set him a challenge in the inn, to prove his empty compliments were not the only arsenal he had. And he had accepted it, for the words, his touch, burned through her until she could scarcely breathe.

“I wish I’d never dared you,” Freyja whispered. A single beam of light from a hole in the roof cut across his face as it lowered to hers. Her heart erupted in a flight of dragon wings. She could have said no. She knew his intentions.

But though the words hovered behind her lips, they didn’t cross them.

What would it feel like, just once, to let a man kiss her?

For a second that lonely urge pushed aside the ruthlessly practical voice in her head that told her she was being a fool.

“Curious female.” His soft laughter caressed her lips. “Did you think I only decided you were mine when you dared me? You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you.”

The brush of his mouth against hers tore her apart. Somehow her hands caught his upper arms. To push him away or to draw him closer? She didn’t know.

A hail of rain drummed on the roof above her as Rurik tasted her breath. The brush of his mouth whispered against hers, back and forth. Drawing her in. Luring her. Tongue darting out to wet her lips. His assault was so tender Freyja’s shoulders relaxed, her fingers no longer digging into his arms. She couldn’t fight this slow seduction.

She didn’t want to.

Heat speared lower, in her abdomen. Freyja moaned as Rurik stepped closer, his hard body pressing hers against the stable door and trapping her there. “Kiss me, Freyja. Kiss me, sarratum zamani.”

She didn’t understand the words, the way he rolled over them with his tongue, but she felt it shiver through her. His mouth opened over hers.

Rurik had power of his own. Power to shatter her defenses and leave her gasping. Freyja kissed him eagerly, hands sliding up his chest where she could feel the steady thud of his heart beneath her palms. Her first kiss, and it was divine. He tasted divine, the scorching heat of his skin warming her all the way through. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough.

She wanted him all over her, inside her. Penetrating her. The sharp stab of the storm lashed over her skin, and Freyja opened herself to it, power crackling through her.

The tips of her hair flickered with static. As if he felt the change in her, Rurik thrust his hips against her, hands shackling her wrists as he pinned them above her head. Hard lips captured hers, brutal and ravenous. No kiss to steal her breath, not this time. This was meant to own, to possess her.

And it did.

Freyja threw her head back, breathless with need. Thunder rumbled through the building, the storm lancing the air outside. She felt it within her, lightning flickering along her nerves as Rurik’s roughened cheek rasped against her throat. Her heart pounded like a drum as his arms slid around her, bringing her into his powerful embrace. Hands slid up her back, locking her in place as his tongue darted down to the crevice between her breasts. The sharp nip of teeth stung against her tender skin, marking her. Freyja dug her fingers into his scalp, helpless to resist.

What was she doing? With a stranger, no less?

But then his hand slid over the black wool of her dress, cupping the unbound weight of her breast in his palm, and Freyja’s protest died on her lips.

For she was curious, despite knowing the danger to her reputation, her heart, her body, despite everything…. Not once had she ever felt such desire for a man. Just a little taste, she told herself. To see what he would do, how it would feel.

Thunder cracked, rattling the iron sheeting on the roof. A drop of icy rain splashed across her face, shocking her. Then Rurik brushed aside the neckline of her dress, his hot mouth capturing her nipple.

There was no more thought of protest. Freyja gasped in shock, throwing her head back as his tongue traced torturous circles around the aching bud. Then his hands were beneath her bottom, hauling her up, moving her legs around his hips. His body nestled between her thighs, the hot surge of his erection brushing against her hip.

Yes. Yes. More.

“Curse you,” Rurik breathed, drawing back just a little. One hand thrust against the stable wall behind her for stability, the muscles in his forearm tightening. “I’m trying to go slowly.” He laughed, breathless as he nipped at her jaw. “You taste delicious.”

Don’t stop. Freyja dug her nails into the hard muscle of his shoulders.

“I won’t.” The rumble came deep from his throat, the sound trailing over her skin. Then his mouth captured hers again and though her mind fought to latch on to something, she couldn’t chase the thought down.

Not with his hips thrusting against hers, the rasp of his buttons riding over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Not with his tongue pressing into her mouth, practically daring her to meet him back. Not with his hand sliding over the small of her back, and pressing her harder against him.

His erection brushed between her thighs, thick and heavy, and Freyja’s eyes shot wide open at the sudden shock of sensation that streaked through her. Outside, lightning flashed, the light searing her eyes as it flickered between the gaps in the timber door. All she could see were bands of light as she shut her eyes, her moan fading against the thunderous wind as Rurik’s body rode over hers, again and again, taking her closer to an edge she wanted to throw herself off—

A primal scream filled the air, echoing across her skin and rattling the roof of the stable.

Freyja felt Rurik freeze, his face lifting from hers and his hard body pinning her to the wall. Her heart thundered a ragged vibration in her ears.

“What is it?” she whispered, her hands still clasping his shirt.

He looked at her, eyes drugged and dazed in the low light, his body easing away from her. Wind battered the stables, another piercing war cry shattering the fury of the storm. It reverberated through the village like the call of an enormous horn.

A chill spiraled all the way through her.

She knew that cry.

She could feel the might of the great beast soaring past, its wings thrusting a downwash of wind over the tiny buildings and his power pulling at her.

Rurik shoved away from her, striding toward the door. He cracked it open, rain whipping over his hardened frame and wetting him instantly. Lightning flickered in the streets, too often for it to be natural. It stabbed the ground again and again, as if driven by something beyond the whim of earthly law.

“The dreki,” she whispered, and hurried after him.

Rurik’s body spilled heat through her as he glanced down, lashes wet with rain. “Stay here.”

Her thighs were wet with need, her body still trembling. One kiss, one touch, had shattered her resolve. How lucky for her the dreki had broken the moment, for she had little doubt she would otherwise be lying on her back in one of the stalls right now, with her skirts around her hips and a “Yes” on her lips.

Freyja didn’t know what was more dangerous. The wyrm outside? Or the man watching her with hot need still burning in his golden eyes?

“He won’t hurt me,” she whispered, pressing between him and the door to see. Rain stung her flushed lips, little razors of sensation against her cheeks.

The lightning lit the sky again, revealing the flash of wings over the rooftops. Light gleamed silver over scales. Beautiful. Dangerous. And so compelling she almost stepped out into the rain to see more of him.

Rurik hauled her back against his chest with a hiss, his arms locking over her breasts. “Do you have no sense, woman?”

He muscled her inside with appalling ease, slamming the door shut behind them and leaving her light blind in the darkness. Another primitive scream cut the air above them, and she looked up. Something whipped against the roof and Freyja screamed as Rurik drove her down into the straw, his heated body covering hers. Shards of timber lashed them both, an enormous sheet of iron tumbling where they’d just been standing. The noise ricocheted around the stables. Hanna squealed, and another horse snorted.

Then it finally fell silent.

Freyja trembled, feeling the press of Rurik’s hips against her bottom. His weight shifted as rain drove inside the hole in the roof, and he let her lift her head.

“You’re not hurt?” he asked.

“There… there are two of them,” she whispered.

“Aye.” A grim tone. “Foolish Freyja. Did you not see?”

“See what?”

“You spoke of the golden wyrm beneath Krafla,” he said, looking up with a hard expression darkening his face. “And the one outside was silver.”

Not her dreki. As if he read her face, Rurik’s gaze softened. “Not yours, no.” He levered himself to his feet. “Stay here. And do not come out until I come for you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see who dares to enter the golden wyrm’s domain,” he replied, in a hard-edged voice.