The Scarred Viking's Bride (On Temp. Hold)

Seven

Unknown POV

The young woman ambled into my hidden cavern, oblivious to me standing within the shadows in the darkened corner. I remained still, quiet as a small mouse. I did not want to startle this beauty that suddenly decided to grace my presence. She was but a graceful angel, soaked to the bone, shivering from the winter raging outside.

I had the powerful sudden urge to wrap her in my arms.

Covet her.

Take her away.

And never let her leave my sight.

Instead, I lingered hidden within the shadows of the cave, pressing myself against the ragged rock wall. She did not look my way, yet how could she? I was leaning against the darkest corner of the cave, hidden behind a wall that jutted out. I would not be found unless I desired to be.

I watched her take a pile of brush and twigs from underneath her cloak and began creating a fire from rocks she found near the pool of water. I marveled at her intelligence. Most women I knew could not endure residing in a cave within the mountainside at night. They would cower in fear, whimpering and crying for help.

But this woman...

My blood suddenly turned heated as she took off her black cloak. My fists clenched in excitement, and I forced myself to barely breathe as I watched. I waited on edge for her to take off more clothing, but she simply laid on the ground using her generous cloak as a headrest and blanket.

I inwardly sighed. What a disappointment...

She stared into the flames for a few minutes before deeply sighing and closing her eyes. I waited for a period of time, delaying until she was completely unconscious before I moved toward her body.

I crept silently, flinching when my boot sent a small stone scurrying across the small cave. The woman stirred but did not wake. I let out a breath in relief.

This woman was simply beautiful. Odin took special care in creating her, that was obvious. She was tall for a woman, perchance reaching my shoulder. Even from beneath the cloak and the feeble light of the small fire I could make out the ample curves of her hips.

Perfect for birthing strong sons, I grinned with satisfaction at the realization.

Her hair was varying shades of gold, every tone different. I reached out a hand and touched a few curls near her brow; it was soft as a butterfly's wing. Most of the golden ringlets rebelled and escaped the braid that held them back away from her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the fire and I assumed her trek up the mountain. Her lips were full and the delicious color of blood, tempting me. Long dark lashes framed her eyes, black as coal, faintly brushing her cheeks. Her heart-shaped face was peaceful, serene. She was an angel.

An angel I wanted to bring down to hell with me.

I smiled, deciding then that I would take her back with me to the clan. She would become my bride, my dronning, who would rule beside me.

With my new plan in mind, I circled around her until finally sitting down across from her by the fire. I guarded her for a few hours, flicking my gaze between the fire, the entrance and her. The sun was gaining strength, breaking through the small covering of the cave, illuminating her sleeping form.

I continued to watch over her until I heard shouts and loud voices coming from the bottom of the mountain. I rose from my side of the dying fire, a slow rage building in my chest at the possibility of invaders. This woman was mine, mine to protect, and mine to keep. I had a hunch that these voices were looking for her, my discovered angel in the flesh.