An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Piercing the Veil

  ISBN 9781419917967

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Piercing the Veil Copyright © 2008 R.G. Alexander

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication September 2008

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Piercing the Veil

  R.G. Alexander

  Dedication

  For Cookie. Love is the reason.

  Acknowledgements

  To Cookie and my sister, for unconditional love and support. For my editor Briana St. James for not blinking at my unusual Vikings. Linn, Lacy and William—for your inspiration and Ren Fest knowledge. Beth and Robin L. Rotham for going above and beyond the call of duty. And my smutketeers—Eden Bradley, Crystal Jordan and Lillian Feisty. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.

  The eyes of the hawk

  Watch over the daughter of my spirit.

  A guardian of human born,

  Pure and innocent in her power,

  Will seek and find the light no other can behold.

  The hawk of gold torn in two,

  Made whole again when the key is found.

  Translation from the Ogham Book of Veils, as prophesied by Áine,

  High Priestess of Danu.

  Chapter One

  798 A.D. Gone a-Viking in the land of Eire

  “Have any of you seen Valr this rising?”

  The men, who lay in drunken disarray around the smoke of the dying fire, groaned as if in agony. The largest, Gunnarr, rolled onto his back with a whimper. He dragged the tangled mass of hair from his face and carefully opened one eye.

  Seeing Haukr, he panicked. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he cringed in pain even as he grabbed the sprawled Sigr by the scruff of his beard, pulling him up beside him.

  Haukr’s eyebrow rose and his mouth quirked in resigned amusement. No matter that he and his brother fought beside these warriors as equals, slogged in the mud with them and drank deeper than most—they were never treated as peers. As friends.

  Their men simply could not see his brother Valr as anything other than the son of the Jarl, twin of the infamous berserker.

  And Haukr? They saw him as a weapon. Something to use when needed and steer clear of whenever possible.

  The Hawk and the Falcon. Twin sons born of the Jarl and his wife—but not of this world. The legends and stories that had been spread by gossipy women and superstitious warriors were astonishing to say the least.

  Haukr knew that the circumstances of his birth were unusual. The seer’s vision. The nature of his gifts. But he and Valr had not accomplished half the feats they were given credit for. And still their legend grew.

  The redheaded Sigr cuffed Gunnarr on the top of his head, swearing at the larger man before patting his beard as if to ensure it was still intact. When he noticed the reason for his rude awakening, he paled in the early morning light.

  Haukr repeated his question and Sigr nodded. “Saw him head into the old chieftain’s hut this past moonrise. That völva mentioned something about needing to seek a vision before Odin’s Hunt can begin.”

  Gunnar snorted out a laugh and then, catching sight of Haukr once more, masked the sound with a choking cough.

  Haukr tried to put him at ease. He forced his lips to form a wicked grin and waggled his brows. “That seid woman certainly has been having a lot of those lately, hasn’t she? Funny how she always needs the help of a young warrior to get them, eh? If I know Valr, he’ll show her a vision she won’t soon forget.”

  He left the two groggy warriors cackling as he headed toward the thatched dwelling in the village center.

  He looked neither left nor right as he passed the decimated clay and straw homes of the previous residents—homes that had been set afire or damaged during the villagers initial resistance to their arrival.

  Haukr had never known a moment’s regret for his actions. He was a warrior, heir to the leadership of his people and gifted by Odin with the predatory nature and sharp instincts of his berserker spirit. He was what the gods intended him to be.

  When the seers had said it was time to conquer more land for his swiftly growing people, he hadn’t stopped to wonder if the land was already in use.

  His twin Valr, ever the sensitive soul, was not so accepting. He had spent many a night deep into his cups with his brother, arguing about the nature of their cause. Shouldn’t they use their knowledge of seafaring, their strength as warriors, to protect and create rather than conquer and destroy?

  The Jarl had told his sons that what they did today would protect their people tomorrow. Good land must be ensured if their civilization was to thrive. Thralls must be bound and made to work that land if their people’s children were to eat.

  Upon his arrival, Haukr had seen for himself that Eire and its inhabitants could not manage their own land. Most Celts could only quibble and war amongst themselves for leadership and religious superiority. So he’d laughed off his brother’s ramblings and felt no regret.

  Until Brígh. She was the only one who made him hesitate, made him rethink the way his people treated hers.

  The Celtic girl had sent him running in circles from the moment he’d set eyes on her. Her innocence and her determination to spurn his advances, even when he could see the yearning in her eyes, drove him mad and stole his heart.

  He’d thought at first merely to take her as a thrall, to force her acceptance. But she was so sweet and proud, so adorably stubborn. He just couldn’t bring himself to break her spirit.

  He was unused to spending so many nights alone with his frustration. Denying himself merely to please another was not the Viking way. He prayed she came around soon, before he lost his sanity.

  He pushed thoughts of the innocent beauty out of his mind as he entered the home of the old leader. Pressing open the rickety hazelwood door, he stilled. His cock immediately stirred at the scene before him.

  Valr lay sprawled across a rough pallet on the ground—his tunic and leathers crumpled in the corner as Kára, the seer who had been so adamant that they would fail unless they took her on this voyage, swallowed his shaft down her eager throat.

  Kára was a stunning figure of a woman. Her beauty was surely a gift from Freyja herself. Hair the color of summer wheat flowed down around her shoulders, obscuring his view of her face, though he easily recalled its perfection.

  She knelt over his brother’s hips, her own high in the air, legs slightly spread, gifting him with a clear view of her round, voluptuous ass and swollen sex—flushed and dripping with arousal.

  The crisp air was heated from the small peat fire and their recent activities. The smell of sex and sweat hovered like a heavy, intoxicating cloud around them.

  The scent of the seer’s unusual incense intensified, surrounding him. His vision wavered, his thinking growing muddled and his mouth watering as he stared at the temptation spread out before him.

  He knew he should turn around and leave. There was a reason. But he could not drag himself away, could not for the life of him recall why he shouldn’t sink himself into the sweet nectar between this woman’s thighs.

  “Had I known that this was how the seid women sought a vision, I would have spent my youth lingering outside the völva’s longhouse to offer aid.”

  Valr glanced up, unsurprised at his brother’s sudden appearance, chuckling in agreement. Sliding his fingers through the woman’s silken hair, he held her fast when she would have retreated. “Oh no, my insatiable Kára, we cannot let you give up so easily. If one warrior’s sword is enough to help you on your vision quest, perhaps two would grant you direct audience with Odin himself.”

  The seid woman stilled for a heartbeat before she sounded her assent with a low moan, her mouth once more suckling greedily on Valr’s cock. She wiggled her hips at Haukr, thighs spreading wider in welcome.

  He didn’t hesitate. He could feel the hardened ridge of his erection pressing against the leather placket of his trousers, demanding immediate release.

  Ripping open the lacings, he walked toward the couple on the floor, his eyes narrowed with lust, jaw clenched as he knelt beside them.

  His gaze lit upon the treasures littering the dirt floor and he grinned at his brother. “Ever prepared, I see.”

>
  Valr nodded tightly, all his attention focused the woman before him. “As any good warrior should be.”

  Haukr wasted no time in reaching for the small indigo vial, nearly hidden by the thin rope of knotted silk, small ivory balls and the few other interesting diversions Valr had acquired last season from the Eastern traders.

  At the time, Haukr had rolled his eyes at the seemingly irresponsible trade. When he’d seen the line of exhausted, but smiling, bond servants and thralls exiting his brother’s rooms, he’d quickly changed his mind.

  The vial contained a uniquely spiced oil. Its dark musk was arousing. It was said to heat the flesh and ease the tightest of muscles. Haukr knew from experience that those claims were not false.

  Gripping her rounded hips, he positioned himself between the seid’s ivory thighs, pressing them further apart with his own. He laid one broad hand firmly on her hip, caressing the silken curve as she pressed back aggressively against his touch, showing him without words where she wanted his hands.

  Her muffled shriek of surprise when Haukr’s cupped palm cracked sharply between her legs caused Valr to laugh softly. “My brother is not as civilized as I, sweet völva. You’ll find it’s best to just give him what he wants.”

  Haukr watched, alert, as the golden beauty lifted her head from his twin’s lap, looking over her shoulder with wide, dilated eyes. Her face was flushed with arousal, body trembling. And then, slowly, her lips curled upward.

  He felt a flash of triumph mixed with hunger at her easy acceptance. It often took his bound servants months of gentle coaxing to accept his darker desires. This seid was a lusty one indeed.

  Pulling his gaze from hers, he opened the vial with one hand, the other squeezing one ass cheek and spreading her wide. He watched the oil pour over her delicate skin, allowing some to drip on his fingers before setting it carefully aside.

  He rubbed the warming liquid into her skin, pressing his wide thumb deep into the tight pink rosette her luscious flesh had hidden. She shuddered, but made no protest as he coated his flushed cock with the exotic oil, replacing his thumb with the head of his shaft.

  “Kára.” Valr’s voice drew her lust-filled gaze away from Haukr. He had grasped the intricately designed balls of ivory and was spinning them lightly on his fingers, directly in her line of vision.

  Haukr held himself still. The need roaring through him, raging at him to move—to conquer—was a living, violent thing.

  He understood as he heard the soothing tones of his brother’s explanation that Valr would insert the spheres into the seid. Then, and only then, would Haukr fill her sweetly clenching ass with his cock.

  He sensed more than saw the balls being inserted, her buttocks tightening around his waiting arousal at the new sensation.

  Valr fondled her sex, fingering her even as he pressed the balls deep, before rising to his knees and placing his own erection once more against her lips. She complied readily, her whimpers of need showing that the added stimulation was already having the desired effect.

  This was a game Haukr knew well. A game they had played together before. The balls were designed to have many uses, pleasure chief among them. Rolling inside her, they would fill her, massaging her core when her muscles tightened around them. Haukr knew he would feel them too, pressing against his cock while he thrust deep from behind.

  It was good that Valr was controlling this play. Haukr’s mind was a storm of conflicted emotions and repressed desires. He desperately needed this outlet, but worried that without direction he would hurt the smaller woman in his passion.

  Now.

  Haukr pressed firmly past her resilient flesh, feeling the pop when the thick head of his cock pushed inside her snug, velvet channel. She cried out—he prayed in pleasure—as he filled her. Filled her until his hips pressed against her fleshy curves. And then he began to move, over and again, slinging his hips faster and deeper with each return.

  His thrusts were powerful, that addictive sweet drag and pull against his cock scorching his spine with lightening. His balls already tightened with the need for release. Not yet.

  He heard her wail of pleasure as she came closer to the peak, heard Valr groaning as he spent himself between her lips. So close. Oh Gods, so close.

  The sudden chill up his spine was his only warning. He heard another moan, only this one could not be mistaken for pleasure. This was a sound of utter heartbreak and pain. He opened his eyes to see Valr go eerily still, his sun-bronzed skin paling with horror.

  Haukr turned just in time to glimpse the tiny figure’s back as she ran from the doorway, her long blue skirt whipping behind her.

  Brígh. Oh Odin, no.

  His mind clearing with a sudden jolt, Haukr pulled out roughly, his cock protesting to match Kára’s indignant shriek.

  He barely glanced at her. Brígh was getting away and he was conscious only of the need to reach her. To explain.

  He wrestled himself into his pants, noticing Valr do the same with an angry glare. This was all his fault. What right did he have to look so horrified? It wasn’t as if he loved the small Celt who had wound her way around the heart of the berserker.

  He looked into his brother’s brown eyes, the only physical way outsiders had of telling them apart other than the crude outline of a hawk Valr had carved into Haukr’s arm when they were ten. What he saw within them was shocking.

  Valr loved Brígh too. How could he have missed it? He had been so wrapped up in his own emotions, his own awareness of what he had become and how much he wanted his love to think highly of him, that he’d missed the signs of his brother’s fall.

  Haukr hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. They would work this tangle out between them as they always had. Right now they had to catch her. Had to explain.

  Valr, obviously coming to the same conclusions, finished tying his laces as he spoke low. “She’ll understand, Haukr. Men are not expected to be pure before they wed. Only that they not spoil the innocent. Thralls, bound servants and the like are for release. They simply do not count.”

  No sooner had the words left his twin’s lips than Haukr found himself blinded by an explosion of light, thrown backward into the weaker rays of the winter sun, landing in the mud outside the small dwelling.

  The next thing he knew, his brother’s hands were gripping his shoulders, lifting him as he blinked the spots away from his eyes.

  “Sweet Goddess.”

  Goddess indeed. The lovely woman he’d thought was a völva, a seer and follower of the cult of Freyja was in fact the goddess herself.

  Taller than she’d been since she’d tricked her way aboard his long ship, the nimbus around her head sparking with her ire, she was a terrifying and beautiful sight to behold. She took a step toward them, clutching a gleaming, feathered cloak closed with one fist. The other gripped an amber amulet around her ivory neck.

  It was the Brísingamen, the fabled necklace that granted its wearer incredible powers. Haukr had heard the stories as a child, of the havoc and the bliss Freyja could create with her magical objects. Even now he felt the pull of the amber, his gaze drawn to its hypnotic glow. He glanced away in time to see her smile. The expression was anything but sweet.

  “Now I’m your Goddess? I thought I was merely a vessel for your release. Someone who didn’t count. Someone whose pleasure was no concern of yours. A thrall, a seid woman…what is the difference?” Her voice rose as she continued.

  Haukr watched Valr flinch as his words were thrown back in his face.

  “Do you have any idea how many warriors would kill to be with me? The Elvin lords, Loki, Odin himself would do anything to please me.

  I chose you. I chose the both of you as my warriors. I would have made you kings of your domain. Future princes of Folkvangr. But you threw it all away for a nothing like her!”

  Haukr heard a breathless voice calling to him for help a moment before he saw her. Brígh came racing toward him as if her life depended on it. And when he saw the creature behind her, he was afraid that it might.

  “What is that thing?” Valr’s horrified whisper sounded behind him. Haukr shook his head, his entire body tensed and ready to spring into action, his hand reaching for a sword that wasn’t there.

 

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