3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Kieran
A noise pulls me from my shallow sleep, and all I can make out is a wall of pitch black. The lanterns that were lit earlier have all died in the night. A thick black fur rolls off me as I sit up. I don’t remember falling asleep with a fur over me. Could the asshole who captured me have done that? I can’t make sense of that guy. One second he’s bringing me food, the next he’s trying to flirt with me.
Assholes like him have no right to be so damn attractive. And he is extremely attractive. I’m not too proud to admit that by any means. But can I blame my body for reacting that way?
I haven’t had sex in months. At first, Mark and I had a great sex life. The first few times we’d done it were great. The passion was there. But he started insisting that I top, even though topping makes me uncomfortable. Bottoming has always been my preference, but I wanted to make him happy, so I tried it. As time went on, I started feeling like I was showing up for him while he couldn’t be bothered showing up for me. When I tried to tell him how I felt, he blew up at me and made me feel like shit.
Eventually, I lost interest in initiating sex, which he gave me grief over. As our dry spell got worse, he would openly check out other guys or comment on how hot the guys in the movies we watched together were.
I’d never felt insecure about my body before we started dating. All the guys he was into were big and buff while I was average height with a body that lacked any kind of definition, thin but not fit, soft in the middle but not plump. I shouldn’t have been so surprised when he cheated.
My boyfriend of three years couldn’t be bothered to have sex with me, but a complete stranger from a whole other time period was about to devour me piece by piece. Maybe even literally.
Blowing out a breath, I blink up at the tent ceiling.
Time travel is real.
Werewolves, or ulf-whatever he called them, are real, too.
The guided tours sure didn’t prepare me for this shit. I’ve got to get out of here and back to my timeline. Amanda must be so worried about me. I wish I could call her, but I lost my phone and… and Amanda wouldn’t even exist in this timeline. Nobody I know exists yet. A wave of loneliness washes over me, bringing tears to my eyes.
I’ve got to find a way back. Somehow I got sent back in time, so that must mean I can go forward. If I can find a boat and return to the spot where I crashed, maybe I can figure out a way home. Who knows what these barbarians will do to me. The cuffs are already a big enough hint of what’s to come: slavery. A shiver runs down my spine.
But first, I need to get out of this tent. Noises outside make me think somebody is standing guard, so sneaking out isn’t the answer. I’ve got to bide my time, make my captors think I’ve accepted my fate, and make a run for it while they’re distracted. Except then where do I go? I wouldn’t survive in the wilderness.
What do I do?
Dread rises from my stomach until I taste bile in my throat. I force myself to breathe, willing myself not to have a panic attack. I’ve got to stay calm. But as doubt after doubt piles on, I’m forced to accept that staying calm isn’t a possibility.
Violent thrashing makes me jump out of my fur, chains rattling as I scramble to stand. A sudden rush of dizziness hits me, and I stumble to the side. Flailing in the dark, I grab onto a pole in the middle of the tent. Shit. What was that? I haven’t had brain zaps like that since I started taking Zoloft.
My eyes have adjusted enough to make out the cot where Wulfric is sleeping. It creaks, the blankets rustling as he kicks and claws at something. Is he… having a nightmare? My curiosity compels me closer until my knees bump into the cot’s edge. It’s too dark to see his face, but from the pitiful whimpers escaping him, I can imagine the agony twisting his mouth and furrowing his powerful brows, the way his chest would be heaving, tremors racking his enormous frame.
Shaky little gasps and whimpers fall from his lips. Wulfric’s a big man and a damn werewolf at that. Who, or what , could make a Viking jarl whimper in fear?
Should I wake him? No, then I’d have to deal with him and it’s way too late at night for that. I turn to tiptoe back to my fur when Wulfric suddenly bolts upright and lunges for something. The telltale screech of metal makes my heart sink. He just grabbed his axes.
“It’s me!” I huddle over, shielding my face in case he swings.
His thundering footsteps freeze. In the quiet, his ragged breaths are loud, misting in the chill air. Wulfric’s axes clatter to the floor. The cot creaks as he sits back down. “What are you doing up? Trying to sneak off?” He’d sound more threatening if he weren’t breathing so harshly.
“Oh yeah. Just thought I’d take a nice little walk in the pitch-black forest and freeze my ass off.” Maybe I should be nicer to my Viking werewolf kidnapper but I’m all out of manners.
A growl rumbles in the dark. “You say these things, yet I don’t believe you actually mean them.”
“It’s called sarcasm. It’s very popular where I’m from.”
There’s a rasping sound like he’s running his thick fingers through his long beard. It’s a nice beard, not unkempt or dirty by any means. He’s surprisingly well-groomed for a man who roughs it in the wilds. I guess he makes time for proper grooming between all the raiding, killing, and pillaging.
“And where is it you’re from?” he asks.
I snort. Wait till he gets a load of this. The Viking werewolf and the American time traveler. What a pair we make.
I blow out a breath. “It’s called America where I’m from in the future.”
He’s quiet a long moment. “You… are a seer?”
“What? No. I’m a time traveler.” Not that that sounds any better. “And before you call me crazy, just remember you’re a fucking werewolf.”
“Ulfhednar.”
“Can you turn into a wolf?”
“Aye.”
“Then same fucking difference!” I huff.
Finally, he says, “It makes sense. The way you speak is unlike anything I’ve heard before. The way you dress as well… There have been others like you. People I have met in my travels from other times.”
My breath hitches. “Really?”
“Aye. Some have got here by boat.”
“Like a boat wreck? That’s how I got here!” I’m relieved that I’m not the only one. “Have they been able to go back to their time?”
“Many who traveled here did so intentionally. You clearly did not.”
I pace, chains rattling between my wrists. “How is this even possible? Why don’t more people know about time travel?”
“The Travelers Council, a coven of witches, help keep our secrets safe.”
A coven of what now?
The cot creaks and I can picture Wulfric lying back on it, maybe draping an arm behind his mane of hair. “For you to have arrived here… you must have possessed a branch of Yggdrasil.”
“A branch of huh?”
“Yggdrasil. It connects our world of Midgard to Asgard, the realm of the gods themselves, as well as the other realms, supposedly. The roots of the tree spread deep into the earth, and the branches reach far across the sky. Through these roots and branches, we can travel to other worlds. Perhaps that is how you were able to make the journey.”
I squint at where I think he’s sitting. “Are you talking about a tree?”
“Yggdrasil is no ordinary tree. Not one we can see with our own eyes. Only the gods are worthy of seeing it.”
I’m really wishing I’d studied Norse mythology more so I could have an actual conversation with him about this. It sounds fascinating. “So it’s because of this magical tree that people are able to travel between worlds?”
He sighs like I’m exhausting. “Aye.”
I can’t tell if that aye means yes or kill me now.
“Wait, so you need a piece of this magic tree to travel? But I didn’t have a branch on me. I—” My brain just about breaks. “Holy shit! That woman! It was her !”
Wulfric groans. “Must you be so noisy?”
I can’t believe it. I thought that woman at the pier was off somehow. Almost otherworldly, with an accent I couldn’t place. And the furs she wore! The damn furs! She was an ulf-whatever, just like Wulfric! For some reason, she gave me that wooden wolf so I could travel to this realm. Why would she do that to me? “She fucking tricked me!” I’m against abusing the elderly, of course, but I’m so pissed right now I’d at the very least like to steal her dentures or something. I mean, I’d give them back, but—
“What woman do you speak of?” Wulfric sounds exhausted.
“There was a woman! She gave me a wolf! No, not a real one, but like, a wooden one. She tricked me into coming here!”
Wulfric is quiet a moment, and then he chuckles. “Oh. I see.”
“What?” I snap, not liking that he apparently knows something I don’t.
“It seems we were both tricked.” And then as if he isn’t the most enigmatic asshole in the world, he says, “Go back to sleep.” The furs rustle as he moves around, probably rolling on his side away from me.
“Wait a moment! What do you know?” But the dickwad says nothing. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll go back to sleep as long as you don’t wake me up again.”
He growls. “Quiet. Do not speak of that to anyone.”
Carefully, I navigate back to my fur and lie down on the cold ground, pulling it over me. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Not your concern.”
I tuck my arm beneath my head like a makeshift pillow. “Fine.” What would a Viking werewolf have to fear in his dreams? “We’re not in any danger, are we?” I’m not familiar with the events from this time period. I really wish I’d paid more attention to that Viking museum.
“Always.” He’s quiet after that.
His admission doesn’t make going to sleep any easier.
The fur is ripped off me. With a yelp, I sit up and find Wulfric scowling down at me. “Get up and eat. Then we’re leaving.” He tugs on my chains and forces me to my feet. The icy wind pulls a shudder from me as I step outside, my boots crunching in a thick layer of frost. Wulfric’s men are gathered around fires, preparing food or eating whatever is left over from last night.
My bladder is ready to burst. Ugh. The last thing I want is to tell Wulfric I need to take a leak. “Um.”
Narrow silver eyes glare at me. “Hmm?”
A man of many words, my captor. “I’ve got to go.”
With a growl, he says, “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I know that!” I snap back, shaking my chains for emphasis. “I mean I’ve got to use the bathroom.”
He furrows his brows incredulously.
Oh great. “I’ve, uh… got to go to the loo? Toilet?” Damn it, they don’t even have toilets here. What’s the medieval word for bathroom? I rack my brains, thinking of all the fantasy shows I’ve watched where a character might have used some archaic euphemism that stood out to me. “Relieve myself! You know!”
His glower tells me that no, he fucking doesn’t know.
“I need to… make water?”
That seems to register. Tugging me along behind him, he leads me into the trees and, with the air of a man with exactly zero patience, flops his arm toward a tree. “There you go.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Could I have some privacy?”
If he’d just leave me alone, I could make a break for it. Maybe I could grab a branch and sling it at his head, then run—but who I am kidding? I’m still cuffed, and he’s a werewolf, so he’s probably got super speed or something. He’d catch me in no time, and then I’d have a pissed-off Viking werewolf to deal with.
Wulfric says, “No.”
I sigh. Of course not. “Could you at least turn around so you don’t get an eyeful of my dick!”
“Your… dick?” It should not be so sexy hearing the word dick fall from his lips in that gruff Norse accent, like he’s trying the word out. “You mean that?” He stares pointedly at my crotch. I adjust my cuffed hands to obscure myself. “Why so shy? Got something down there I haven’t seen before?” I want to punch the smirk off his stupid face. “Go now or don’t go at all. It’s a long ride to my village.”
“Fine,” I huff. Turning away, I unzip my jeans and wriggle down my warm leggings just enough to get my business done. I feel unexpectedly vulnerable with my back to him and my cock in my hand, especially when the heat of his gaze lingers on my back. Gritting my teeth, I look over my shoulder and hold his gaze. He stares right back unabashedly. I guess I’d give zero fucks if I looked like him, too.
“Done?” he asks.
“I am, Your Highness.”
Scowling, he yanks my arm and leads me back toward the encampment to a fire outside his tent. He splashes what looks like soup into a bowl and shoves it at me.
“Thank you,” I say out of habit, then cringe. “Have you got any coffee?”
He shoots me a confused, irritated look and I remember coffee probably hasn’t been invented yet. How in the hell did people survive without the conveniences of modern living?
Sitting on the cold, hard ground beside him, I accept the spoon he hands me. The soup looks edible enough. There are chunks of meat and vegetables that I think are potatoes and carrots, some green stuff that looks like cabbage. Blowing away steam, I take a bite. It’s comforting and hot, spreading heat throughout my belly with each swallow.
“Time to go.” Wulfric stands and yanks the bowl out of my hands before I’ve eaten it all.
“I wasn’t finished.”
“Took too long,” he says, leading me toward his white horse.
Cursing him out under my breath, I reluctantly follow. There wasn’t a chance for escape last night or this morning, so I need to keep my eyes open and wait for an opportunity. If they think I’ve accepted my fate, maybe they’ll let their guard down. I put my foot in the stirrup and try to boost myself up, but with my arms cuffed, I can’t grab onto anything. I stumble backward and collide with his chest.
Big hands grip my shoulders, steadying me. Heart racing, I look up and find him glaring stubbornly ahead. When I step up into the stirrup again, he gives me a shove and enough momentum to get my leg over.
I don’t know why he doesn’t stick me in one of the many wagons loaded up with supplies. There’s enough room for me to squeeze in there. Why does he want to be saddled, quite literally, with me? Probably to make sure I don’t escape.
With a grunt, Wulfric hoists himself onto the horse’s back behind me so I’m settled against his chest. His body is big and warm, and his chest would make the perfect pillow if we were in any other situation. If I weren’t in cuffs, it might almost feel like an embrace, especially when his arms bracket me on either side, his hands gripping the horse’s reins.
I grimace when my cock takes an interest in our position. God, I should have gotten laid while I could. Then I wouldn’t be lusting after my captor. The smell of him is all damp fur, leather, and pine trees. Rugged, natural, and wild.
Clicking his tongue, Wulfric urges the horse forward and we ride toward my uncertain future in this strange world that’s both ancient and new.
The sun climbs higher as we travel. The riders stop numerous times to feed and water the horses or fix a loose wagon wheel. I have to say the views are incredible. The ocean is on one side with gray waves reaching toward an equally gray sky and ice bobbing on the water’s surface.
To my other side are rolling mountains and vast forests yet to be tainted by deforestation or pollution. The world is yet to be ruined by humanity. There’s beauty in that and also sadness in knowing how badly we’ll fuck everything up in the future.
There’s no opportunity for escape. Wulfric keeps me pinned to him the entire ride. Even if I could get away, my ass is so sore from riding this damned animal that I wouldn’t make it far. With my hands cuffed, I’d be far too vulnerable anyway. In the distance, ribbons of smoke climb into the sky.
“That’s it,” Wulfric rumbles. “We’re almost home.”
His home and my prison. A wave of dread rises in me. What will become of me? Will I ever know life outside of these chains again?
As we ride, the village comes into view. First, we pass by farmhouses with sheep, pigs, goats, and cows roaming the fields. The houses get more concentrated the closer we get, the distance between each home shrinking until we finally arrive in the heart of Wulfric’s village.
There’s a harbor with boats rocking on the water and canoes beached on the rocky shore. A bustling market full of livestock and produce with everything from vegetables, butchered meats, freshly churned butter, and cheeses. Smoke billows from a forge where a smith hammers away.
It seems like a normal village until Wulfric cups his hands to his mouth and howls. From the trees, a chorus of howls echoes back to us. My mouth goes slack as dozens of wolves burst from the trees and gallop to greet their pack members. They are all the colors from gray to black to white, some big and others small pups. I instinctively freeze as they sniff around the horse, but she must be accustomed to wolves because she only snorts and flicks her tail.
The villagers gather around us, greeting us. My skin prickles when their eyes land on me. Some sniff the air and growl, even those in human form, and their gazes become decidedly colder. I avert my gaze, trying to ignore them. Their voices get louder, more accusatory, less friendly. Something smacks into my chest and splatters all over me. Rotten fruit.
“Get the human out of here!”
“He’ll destroy us all!”
A snarl rumbles from Wulfric’s chest and the crowd backs away. “Do not touch him!” he says, his voice full of authority, which has the crowd dispersing. Clicking his tongue, Wulfric urges his horse onward toward a house bigger than all the others—a longhouse with smoke climbing from the chimneys. He dismounts, and I stagger clumsily from the horse. He leads her into the stables adjacent to the house, then urges me toward the front door.
Before we’ve reached it, the door swings open. A woman with blonde hair threaded with silver and wrinkles around her eyes smiles.
My mouth falls open. “You!”
It’s her! The woman who sold me the damn woodcarving!
“It’s all right. There’s nothing to fear from him,” Wulfric says, but she just laughs.
“Oh, I know, dear. He’s a very nice lad.”
I won’t be so nice in a minute. Before I can give her a piece of my mind, she rushes out the door and straight up to Wulfric. He towers over her, but she reaches out and tenderly pats his cheek, her smile bright and joyful like she isn’t aware of what a huge asshole he is. “I’m relieved you’re home safe.”
“It is good to be back.”
Wulfric gives me a shove inside before I can interrogate the woman. The home is spacious and warm from the heat of a huge fire blazing in the center of the room. The high ceilings in this place make the New Yorker in me jealous, even with all the animal skulls nailed to the wooden beams that crisscross the ceiling.
It’s nice, overall. Very barbarian-chic.
Wulfric marches me toward a door that leads into a bedroom. Furs are piled on the bed, and another fire crackles in the hearth. The pelts of skinned animals hang on the walls. While I’m busy gawking, Wulfric gives me a shove in the back and I stumble into the bedroom.
“Stay,” he barks at me like I’m a dog, then slams the door.
I’m left alone in the bedroom. Shuffling over to the fire, I stretch out my cold hands and let the heat warm them. I wonder what he does to pass the time. I don’t see any books anywhere. He doesn’t look like the reading type, more like he drinks the blood of his enemies from a goat’s horn for fun.
Sinking to the floor, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. In the quiet, the distant bleating of sheep and the noises from the market carry on the wind. Am I going to spend the rest of my time here locked in his bedroom?
Resting my cheek on my knee, I try and catch up on the sleep I missed out on last night.
The door rattles and my heart lurches into my throat. The blonde woman shuffles into the room. In her hands is a tray stacked with bread, a chunk of cheese, and a mug of something. “You must be hungry, dear. Won’t you eat?”
“Will the food send me into another time period?” I grumble.
“Of course not.” She sets the tray on the floor.
“What does he want from me?” I ask before she turns away.
“It’s not my place to say, lad.”
So she knows and won’t tell me. Meaning he does have plans for me.
“Can you take these off?” I rattle the cuffs.
“I’m afraid I cannot. Not until Wulfric gives the order to do so.”
I swallow the uneasy lump in my throat. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Wulfric’s aunt. Call me Helga.”
I sigh and she turns to go, then stops and looks back at me. She offers a tiny smile that warms the cold lines of her face. “You will not come to harm, lad. I would not have sent you here if I knew no good would come from your arrival.”
“Why would you do that?” I snap, jumping to my feet as fury erupts from me. “Did you get a kick out of it? Send me home, now!”
Helga smiles sympathetically. “I cannot, dear. Your place is here.”
“The hell it is! I have a job back in my time. I have friends! A life!”
“But you were unhappy.”
I choke on my anger. “I… Yeah. Sure. But that doesn’t mean you had the right to just uproot me from my life like that!”
“Mayhap not. I understand that you are frightened and angry. I’m only going to ask that you trust you are here for a reason.”
“No. Fuck that shit. Take me home now, before I’m made into a thrall or—”
“If Wulfric meant you harm, you would not be here. I assume the lad’s told you what we are.”
“Yeah. Were—uh, ulfhednar.”
She dusts off her apron. “Aye, and you’re someone very important to him.”
That bewilders me. “What? No, I’m not. I’m his prisoner.”
“It will not be that way for long, dear. He needs to know that you won’t run. Gain his trust and melt that icy heart of his, and he’ll warm to you in no time.”
I scoff. “The guy doesn’t have a heart.”
She laughs softly. It’s a charming sound, full of warmth this cold, harsh land hasn’t stolen from her. She’s kind. Too trusting. I could use that to my advantage. Oh God, what is wrong with me? Besides, she’s a werewolf, ulfhednar , too. She may look soft but she could probably bench-press me.
“Oh, I assure you, he has a heart. But it’s guarded. Once you earn his trust, there is no one kinder in all the world.”
I barely contain my laugh.
“As long as you stay near Wulfric, you are safe, lad. Safer than anywhere else. That is all I can say.”
I should be relieved but I’m not. I wish I could trust in her small smile and reassurances. “I want to go home.” My voice cracks and to my dismay, tears prick my eyes.
“Oh, lad,” she says. “This is your home now. Your place is here, with your mate.”
“I—my what ?”
She sighs in great exasperation. “That foolish pup hasn’t told you?”
I scoff. “No. He’s not much of a talker.”
“Aye, true enough.” Straightening her apron, she takes a seat at a chair by a small dining table in the corner. “You are human. There’s much you do not know of our ways. You should really hear this from him, but you ought to know something. Can’t have you being too surprised when things get… intimate.”
I choke. “Things are not getting anything!”
Mouth dry, I join her at the table, the mug of mystery liquid in hand. How can what she says possibly be more surprising than time travel and werewolf Vikings? I’m afraid to find out.
As I gaze into the mug, realization hits me. Shoot. I haven’t taken my Zoloft since I got transported to this place. That can’t be good. I left it back in my world. I have no idea what will happen if I just quit my meds cold turkey without the guidance of my psychiatrist. Hopefully, my brain won’t break before I can get out of here and back on my meds.
“When we ulfhednar come of age and undertake the ritual to change us from human to beast, we are told that the Norns, goddesses of fate and destiny, will bless us with a mate. Our other half who completes us, who helps us remember our humanity in times of crisis. We will know them at first glance and by their scent.”
“So… soulmates are a thing for your people.” I shouldn’t be surprised, not after everything else I’ve learned since coming to this strange new world. A shiver runs through me as I remember the intensity in Wulfric’s eyes as he forced his way through the crowds at the auction. Like I was the only person in that moment who existed for him.
“Being ulfhednar comes with many great boons. We are fierce warriors and natural hunters. But those from alpha bloodlines risk losing themselves to their wolves and becoming berserkers unless they can find a mate who can soothe their animal rage simply with their presence.”
Shit. I don’t like where this is going. “And going berserk is bad, right?”
She nods gravely. “We could fell whole armies if we lose ourselves to our rage. Wulfric has been without a mate for so long, we feared we would eventually lose him. Until…”
My heart sinks. “Until… me?”
“Aye, lad. We all worried when he wouldn’t choose a mate. He insisted on finding the one fated for him. So I prayed to the gods and they showed me visions. I looked into the past, the present, and the future, and I found you. Only I knew not where you were or that you were human. Only that someday I would come across you in the future. So I traveled there as often as I could for many years, waiting to meet you. I began to lose hope we would ever meet and I would be forced to watch my beloved nephew lose himself to his beast.” She smiles big and bright. “And then there you were. Just as handsome as the gods envisioned. I knew at a glance that despite your differences, you were the perfect mate for Wulfric, and that you had to meet at once.”
I’m Wulfric’s mate? That doesn’t make any sense! “Fuck that! I don’t want to be that asshole’s anything!” Maybe a one-night stand, sure, but—whoa, whoa, whoa. Nope. Don’t even go there, brain between my legs.
She laughs softly. “Give him a chance, dear. This is a shock for him, too, but he is a good man, and so long as you are here, he will never let anything hurt you.”
She leaves me alone with my mouth hanging open. So, fate and destiny are real. Werewolves are real. And I’m the mate of a Viking werewolf.
What the fuck is even my life at this point?
I take a sip of the stuff in the mug and wince as it burns. It must be alcohol of some kind and it tastes almost like beer. Mead. I had a few glasses of this in modern-day Iceland. I tip the mug back and down the whole cup in a few gulps.
Fuck everything about this.
Time to get drunk.