Page 37 of Blood Red Rage

Viking’s patience snapped like a rope. He moved so fast I barely registered it before he was over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my chin gently but immovably.

“Listen to me,” he growled, voice vibrating with fury. “I don’t care how stubborn you are.”

I tried to pull away. “Viking…”

“I will not,” he snarled, cutting me off, “have you hurt because you wanted to prove a point. Do you think I would ever put you in danger? That I would ever have you at the mercy of men that would harm you?”

His eyes were blazing now, not rage at me but rage at the idea of losing me. It landed heavy in my chest.

“I’m not risking you,” he growls, voice low and violent. “Not for your pride. Not for your rebellion.”

I swallowed; breath unsteady. “You can’t just control everything.”

He leaned closer, mouth brushing mine, a kiss that felt like a warning. “I can,” he murmured. “Where you’re concerned, I can and I will.”

My anger flared again, but it struggled to breathe under the weight of his certainty, and the worst part is that some part of me… traitorous, deep, new… liked it. Liked that someone would burn the world down for me.

I looked away, scowling. “Fine.”

Viking stilled. “Fine?”

“Fine,” I repeated, glaring. “Put your scary magical babysitters on me.”

His mouth curved, satisfied. “Good girl.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

He kissed my cheek. “Get used to it.”

I huffed, but I didn’t argue again. Not because I’d lost but because he’d made it impossible to win. Viking sat back, mood shifting like a storm passing. Then he slapped my thigh lightly through the sheet.

“Get up,” he ordered.

I blinked. “What?”

“We’re going out.”

I stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he replies, rising from the bed and pulling on his clothes with brutal efficiency. Like he’d just had me trembling beneath him and now he was ready to conquer the day.

I scrambled upright. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” he repeated simply, like that explained everything.

I scowled. “You can’t just…”

Viking turned back, eyes glittering with humour and danger. “Watch me.”

By the time I was dressed, hair brushed, cheeks still pink from everything I refused to think about too hard, Viking was already composed again, controlled, powerful and untouchable.

He took my hand like it belonged there. Like I did. The moment we stepped into the hall, I felt it. The shift. The mansion wasn’t empty the way it had been last night, there were people here now. Silent, watching and waiting.

Viking didn’t slow, instead he led me down the corridor and into the main room where Draugr stood with the same calm, deadly stillness as always. Draugr’s gaze flicked to me and then to Viking. Then, pointedly, to the faint mark near my throat.

Something in his eyes tightened… recognition, approval, a silent so it’s done. I flushed hot and looked away but Viking didn’t care. He drew me closer to his side, possessive and proud, like he was presenting a crown jewel.

“This is Bryn,” he said.