Valkyrie Heat Read Online Free Page B

material
    dropped just past her hips and was bulky, giving her a broader
    appearance. It was heavy for such soft material. Her hand lifted to
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    Viking Warriors Book 3: Valkyrie Heat

    the front of the garment. Across her chest the feel of stiff hardened
    leather was apparent, and flattened her already tiny breasts further.
    The pants, also too long, sported the same hard leather over her
    crotch area. Sky was in too much shock to really think about it.
    Her own sense of self-preservation was guiding her mechanical
    actions. She put on a pair of moccasins she found in a corner.
    On the dirt floor was a small loaf of bread. Sky snatched it up
    and ran from the hut. She fled from the village death scene as the
    sky grew darker. On and on she sped until she felt her lungs would
    burst, racing through the forest until she stumbled and fell. She
    could go no further. She lay on the ground howling in terror at the
    sights she had witnessed.

    * * * *
    Sky woke and unfolded herself from the tight ball she had
    been in. She stuffed the coin pouch into one of her moccasins.
    Feeling her stomach growl, she nibbled on the stale bread she had
    found and refused to think about how she acquired it and from
    where. Sky staggered to her feet and once more began her aimless
    wandering, only now she was cautious. The people who had killed
    those in the village could still be near. No doubt they would kill
    her as well if they came across her. The image of a deceased
    woman holding her lifeless child to her breast rose up in Sky’s
    mind. A tear slipped from her eye. Who could be so evil?
    Hours dragged by. Memories of the witnessed atrocities were
    her companions no matter how hard she tried to quash the images.
    Aloneness ate at her—then fear of being discovered. Both
    emotions battled. Part of her rational mind screamed at her to find
    shelter. She needed fire. But if she made fire, who would find her?
    The heat of the sun beat down upon her and Sky was parched,
    adding to her temperamental state. She ignored the hungry rumble
    in her belly and it eventually went away. Sky hummed a silly tune
    as she droned on through the massive trees of nothingness. The
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    Viking Warriors Book 3: Valkyrie Heat

    bark beneath her hands had no feel as she moved from tree to tree,
    keeping herself upright. Mechanics of motion kept her going.
    A branch snapped to her right; she jumped and then froze in
    panic. Images of brutal death crashed within her thoughts and a
    whimper slipped from her throat unbidden. Ever so slowly her
    head turned in the direction of the sound and her eyes widened.
    “Brody!” she screamed.
    She ran to him. She never in a million years thought she
    would be this excited to see him, but when she was close enough,
    she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around him in
    relief and squeezed, hanging on for dear life. She was sobbing
    uncontrollably and she didn’t care if he teased her later. Finally,
    she was safe. The wonderful warmth of his skin against her face
    was heavenly. She felt his large hands wrap around her upper arms
    and he held her at arm’s length. Her hands splayed across his bare,
    tanned, powerful chest. Stupidly, she wondered what happened to
    his shirt. She never realized before he was so huge; he was more
    muscular than she had thought. His biceps bulged impressively and
    only yesterday she had thought he wasn’t nearly as broad as Rolf—
    she was mistaken. His facial expression was odd. He said
    something to her that she didn’t understand. Her head cocked to
    the side.
    “Brody, please, no games. Where is Rolf?” she asked in
    desperation.
    “Rolf?” he questioned.
    “Please, I want Rolf. I saw something horrible. We need to
    call the police; people were murdered. It was so awful.”
    Again he spoke to her in a language she didn’t understand. Sky
    was growing angry as her frustration rose. Damn the man. Why is he
    acting this way? Can’t he see how distressed I am, how disheveled?