Because I set my Viking books in a galaxy far, far away, I could play with the history, play with the dangers. This scene was the most fun I’ve had writing in a long, long while. Both Dagr and Honora must conquer their fears to save one another. Dagr was captured, feared dead, but he’s leading the enemy’s soldiers on a raid of his own castle. Enjoy!

“With the intriguing meshing of the past with the future this was an engrossing read…”
Top Pick!, Night Owl Reviews

“A steamy and fascinating adventure…”
Romance Reviews Today

“Clash of cultures, clash of myths, clash of powerful personalities…how many authors can bring out on paper the excitement and more-than-willing suspension of disbelief that old fashioned adventure stories once brought us?…a wonderful, action-packed, emotional roller-coaster of a read.”
Alien Places

What a Viking wants, a Viking takes.

When his younger brother goes missing, Dagr, Viking warrior and Lord of the Wolfskin Clan, will do whatever it takes to get him back. But nothing could have prepared him for Honora—a feisty, intelligent woman who is nothing like the women of his world—women who are content to serve their men in all things. Drawn to her despite her recalcitrant nature, Dagr is determined to show her who’s boss both in bed and out.

When the two enemies-turned-lovers join forces to find Dagr’s brother they are thrown into a rousing adventure full of danger, intrigue and erotic abandon. Can their passion truly unite them or will their different worlds lead to destruction for them both?

The fierce cold wind stung her cheeks, centering her thoughts. Her eyes watered and she blinked rapidly as she stared through the snowfall to see the shadowy figures spread out on the ice, marching toward them now.

They approached as quietly as a battalion of men could, likely hoping the whistling wind and the scurry of snow on the frozen surface of the sea would leave them undetected until the last moment.

Had they chosen this route or had Dagr? Arikan, the arrogant bastard, might have thought that seeing his men spread out would have the Vikings shaking in their boots.

If Dagr were alive, he might have bleated out this route during torture to ensure his people had warning. Dagr could already be dead, likely was.

Sorrow trembled through her, but she firmed her shoulders. She could still do one last thing for him. She could witness his enemy’s defeat.

She stared at the dark figures blurred by the snow, until they neared and clearer outlines formed. Her gaze narrowed on one with a familiar proud gait. Heart racing, she leaned over the parapet, gripping the edge hard.

A hand closed around the neck of her cloak and pulled her back. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Or me?” Odvarr muttered. “Dagr will have my innards for dinner if you fall.”

She shook her head and pointed. “Look!” she hissed. “At the front of the formation. It’s him!”

Odvarr squinted then leaned over the wall. “‘Tis him all right,” he said, nodding as though he’d never had any doubt about his survival. “I hope he plans to start running soon.”

“If he runs, they’ll know he he’s betraying them and they’ll kill him.”

“If he doesn’t, the serpents will eat him.”
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