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Chapter Five
Erik
I throw myself on top of Astrid as magic and a bright green color flash across the room. My first thought is magical booby-traps, or a hex of some sort. We hit the stone floor hard, though I’m able to shield Astrid’s head with my arms.
“What the fuck…” she groans.
My gaze whips to the far side of the room, where the flash emanated. Something is glowing on the wall. It’s a shield of some sort, dark gray metal imprinted with runes across the surface. The runes each glow, too, shining brightly like hot brands. Confusion rockets through me.
I recognize those runes.
“Where did you get that shield?” I ask, my words coming out hoarse and raw.
“From my grandmother,” Astrid says slowly. “Before she died.”
I turn my gaze to look down at Astrid, who is still wrapped in my arms. I’d thought that a magical explosion had gone off, but this is something entirely different.
My mind travels back almost eleven hundred years, to my early days, my Viking days. To the only woman I’d ever loved. She’d been a Völva, a Viking witch. A Völva and a Valkyrie.
And the shield on Astrid’s wall is hers.
A frenetic buzz of energy moves through my veins. “So, it’s a family heirloom?”
Astrid nods. “Yes.” She pauses, and then she says, “You recognize it. How?”
My heart pounds in my chest as I look into Astrid’s hazel eyes. “I knew the original owner.”
She stiffens in my arms. “But… but that shield is over a thousand years old.”
“Dragons live a very long time.” My words rumble in my chest as my beast stirs.
I become very conscious of the soft, curvy woman I’m holding up against me. Her hair smells like honeysuckle and lavender. And now I realize why I felt what I did when we battled in the snow—she even looks like my Valkyrie. Which makes sense. Because Astrid is her descendant.
Kára—that was her name—had died in battle protecting me. If not for that, she’d have lived as long as me, since witches can have very long life spans as well. I’d had many lovers since then, but none have come even close to reaching my heart. Now, seeing Astrid, feeling her body against mine, I feel the stir of something I haven’t felt in more than a thousand years. And it’s not just me—my dragon awakens, too.
I realize abruptly that I’m still gripping Astrid tightly. I get up, lifting her off the floor and setting her back on her feet before me.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “I thought we’d triggered some sort of hex.”
Astrid has both palms pressed up against my chest as if still regaining her balance. She’s looking up at me inquisitively, brow slightly furrowed, lips parted slightly. A shimmer of magic moves off her, sparkling at the tips of her fingers. I want to taste that magic on her perfect pink lips…
“Side effect of the job, no doubt,” she says with a small laugh. “Quick reflexes.”
Finally, she steps back. She looks over her shoulder at the shield. The glow has now nearly faded. “It reacted to you,” she says softly. “Do you want to take a closer look?”
A dangerous mix of emotions rushes through my veins. “No, that’s okay,” I say quickly. I need to get out of this basement. I need to forget this happened. My job is to protect Astrid, and I can’t do that if I go tripping down memory lane, head in the clouds.
Turning, I jog back up the stairs to the main floor of the house. Astrid follows me, and we head back to the sitting room.
“As you probably noticed, I don’t have a guest room,” she says with an apologetic shrug.
I take my position across the room from her again. “No worries. I won’t be sleeping while I’m here.”
Her eyes widen. “Not at all?”
“Dragons don’t have to sleep as much as humans or witches.”
“Are you going to stay down here when I go to sleep?” she asks.
