Page 77 of Kiss of Wrath

“Tell me how you came to be a . . . you know, angel with fangs.”

“It is a long story.”

“I have time.”

“God was angry with the Vikings. Too proud. Too vain. Too vicious. Too many bad things. He was especially angry with my family because I and my six brothers each committed one of the Seven Deadly Sins in a most heinous manner. My sin was wrath.”

“Surprise, surprise!”

“Your attempts at humor fail to impress me.”

“Big, fat, hairy deal!”

He almost laughed.

She waited for him to explain more.

“In my fury over . . . you know . . . I killed many people. Many!”

She didn’t think she needed to know more about that. Not at this point, anyhow. “So, God just decided one day that He would punish you all by making you vangels for eternity.”

“Not exactly. Originally, he sentenced each of us to seven hundred years to make up for our sins, but being Vikings we have difficulty being pure. Every time we sin, more years are added to our original seven hundred.”

She let out a burst of laugher. The idea of Viking men trying to be pure did pose funny possibilities.

She yawned. A combination of shock and information overload was finally catching up with her.

“Come. You need to sleep,” Mordr said. “We can discuss everything in the morning.”

She agreed and let him lead her up the stairs. “The only thing that matters, or the most important thing, is that my children are safe.”

“Agreed,” he said, opening her bedroom door and steering her inside. “I give you my solemn vow. The children will be safe. I failed to protect little ones under my shield once before. It will never happen again.”

“Oh. Mordr, that wasn’t your fault.”

“It most definitely was my fault. If I had been there to protect them, they would not have suffered such violent deaths.” He put up a halting hand. “No more! That subject is closed.

She sat on the edge of her bed and removed her shoes. He stayed in the open doorway, watching her. His posture, leaning one shoulder against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles, was one of lazy indifference. But the light in his silvery blue eyes said something entirely different.

“Are you afraid I’ll tackle you to the bed if you enter my bedroom?”

“I am afraid I will tackle you to the bed,” he replied with uncommon humor, for him.

“And that would be a bad thing . . . because?” She couldn’t believe she was being so aggressive.

“Oh, lady, tempt the lion and it will bite.”

“Are you the lion?”

“Wouldst like to hear me roar?”

Miranda liked this light banter with the usual dour Viking. Just then, something more important occurred to her. “In the midst of all this stuff about a demon vampire threat, I forgot the biggest threat to my family.”

He arched his brows at her.

“Roger.”

“Of course.”