Lucifer is up to his old tricks, causing problems for the Forgotten Brotherhood. This time, he’s had a woman removed from the Norse afterlife and placed her right in the path of Bjorn Knutson. After the slaughter of his wife and family centuries ago, tortured and broken, Bjorn was cursed as the first Norse werewolf. Now he’s been tasked by Odin himself with killing the woman who escaped. Failure is not an option.
Before he can track her, he stumbles across a woman being accosted by three men in the middle of the night. Even though she’s human, he intervenes and is shocked to recognize the face of the one woman he could never kill — his wife Anja.
She’s also the one he’s hunting…and if he doesn’t kill her then both their lives are at stake.
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“Can we discuss this later? We have company.”
He’d always had a sixth sense about such things. It was one of the reasons he’d been such a fierce warrior. “Where?”
“Two behind and at least one ahead.” Bjorn jerked his head to the left. “Across the street.”
She didn’t need him to point out which man he meant. Over six feet tall, he wore jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. He looked similar to the ones who’d accosted them earlier. “Do they all look alike?” she muttered. “Is it a requirement or something?”
Bjorn’s fingers tightened around hers, but he was smiling, his lips tilted up slightly, his eyes filled with laughter. He hadn’t forgotten for one second they were being stalked and hunted, but he’d always been good at living in the moment. It’s how they’d been raised, as much a part of them as their physical appearance.
Laugh when you could, cry when you needed, revel in the joys of life, fight for honor and glory, and die well.
“What can I do?” She would fight alongside her man, no matter what they faced.
“Stay close. When I tell you to run, you run.”
“Where are we going?” It bothered her that she had no idea where they were or where they were headed.
“My truck isn’t much farther. About four blocks up the road. When we get there, turn right. It’s the black one.” He rattled off some letters and numbers. “Crap, can you even read them?”
“Yes. I have some knowledge of this world. Not everything, but I understand much, including how to read the language.”
“Good. The truck will have a piece of metal on the back with those on it. Here are the keys.” He reached into his pocket and pulled them out. “Hit this button when you’re close.” He showed her which one. “That will unlock the doors. Get in, hit this other button, and wait for me. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Got it.” She gripped the keys and had her thumb near the button he’d showed her. Her heart was racing as they kept a fast steady gait. She wanted to run, but that was the wrong thing to do. Any animal would take that as a challenge, see her as prey and sprint after her. And these men were essentially animals in human flesh.
Werewolves? They were the stuff of myth and legend but, like the gods, were real. Their kind never came to Freya’s Hall. Odin was rumoured to have all sorts of beasts in Valhalla, but she’d never seen proof, as she’d been unable to leave. That had been part of her pledge to the goddess, which is what made her being here all the worse.
Her vow had been broken.
“Another one just ahead.”
“Should we detour?” She pulled her attention back to the present situation. Her immediate goal—protect her husband.
“That’s what they want. They’re trying to herd us down that street, which means there are likely more of them. We go straight. They’ll do nothing until we make the turn onto the quieter street. As soon as we do, you run. I’ll hold them off and be right behind you.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“I know.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. It was over far too soon. She licked her lips, wanting to savor his taste. It was familiar yet strangely new. Maybe because of all the years they’d missed. They were both different people than they’d been when they’d wed and started a family, shaped by their experiences. But one thing hadn’t changed. He was still a hunger in her blood.
He groaned. “Stop looking at me like that, woman. Now is not the time.”
She knew he was trying to lighten her spirits. Tension radiated from his big frame. He squeezed her hand. “Get ready, Anja. It’s just there on your right.” He kept his voice low. “As soon as we reach the corner, run hard and fast, and don’t look back.”
Once upon a time N.J. had the idea that she would like to quit her job at the bookstore, sell everything she owned, leave her hometown, and write romance novels in a place where no one knew her. And she did. Two years later, she went back to the bookstore and her hometown and settled in for another seven years.
One day she gave notice at her job on a Friday morning. On Sunday afternoon, she received a tentative acceptance for her first romance novel and life would never be the same.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks--all vie for her attention. It's a tough life, but someone's got to live it.
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