Page 6 of Vicar
Chapter Three
Scandinavia
960. A.D.
WHERE TRINITY HAD thoughtshe was getting a good idea of how different she was after the Forge began, she had no clue until she traveled back in time. More specifically, until she and Vicar stood face to face during that fiery transition.
For a brief moment, holding her ground against his Múspellsheimr side, she had become a different person. She’d been able to stand strong against a beast that would normally make her run in the opposite direction. Stood strong against a dragon who would have never been her type but sparked her every nerve ending.
Sparked more than that, actually.
She had expected Vicar to be good-looking based on what she’d heard of the others but not so ruggedly handsome and certainly not that alluring in his primal state. But something about his longish dark hair, searing gold eyes, and the tattoo plastered across his broad, buff chest had her inner beast squirming in anticipation. More than that?
It made her strong.
Far stronger than she usually was.
That was the only way to describe what she’d felt earlier. When she had faced off with him in the fire between times, she was ten times more kick-ass than Jade. More in charge of her emotions than she’d ever been. Not kind and passive, but confrontational. Unwilling to take no for an answer when it came to balancing Vicar’s turbulent personality shifts.
Shewouldfix him.
Until then, Loki’s Dagger would be hers, and shewouldcontrol him.
Or so she thought until she landed in this quiet, dark, glittering cave that reminded her she wasn't a bully. She didn’t take what she wanted. When she helped men, it was bynomeans with the intention of controlling them. That wasn’t how people helped each other. That wasn’t who she was.
Yet when Vicar sniffed, better yetsensed, her out in no time and held out a kind hand to where she crouched behind a rock, she knew the dagger had to stay with her. She wasn’t sure why considering his remarkable transformation, but she knew, for now, it must.
“I’m okay,” she managed, her voice a weak squeak when he held out his hand. “Thanks.”
She stood, not surprised that he somehow seemed much taller now than he had in the fire. Then again, she’d grown much smaller when it came to courage. She blinked and cleared her throat, caught off guard to find him just as much if not more attractive now. Was that a dimple in his right cheek when he grinned at her? Had his features been that chiseled before with just a hint of a cleft in his chin? Surely not. He’d seemed hot but hard-featured. Lethal versus charming.
“I’m good,” she assured again, clearing her throat, trying not to sound wobbly. She stood on her own, dug her sweaty hands into her hoodie, and nodded once at both Tor and Vicar. Dear Lord, they made these Sigdirs big, didn’t they? She tried not to stare at Vicar’s broad shoulders but at his eyes. Probably not the best idea because they made it hard to speak, let alone think clearly and say something halfway intelligent. “I really am good.” She kept nodding like a fool. “And it’s a good place.”
A goodplace? She nearly rolled her eyes. A mere minute ago, she had sounded halfway intelligent and cautious. Now, confronted with the new, upbeat Vicar, she’d turned into a rambling idiot.
“It’s a better place than I would have thought,” Vicar conceded, his deep voice vibrating right down to parts of her men never reached. His steady, inquisitive gaze remained on her face, his kindness obvious once one looked past all the inner conflict. He introduced himself, and Tor then cocked his head. “Why did you bring us here?”
