“What the fuck is going on?” Bjorn demanded.
The one with the scowl turned to him, cold blue eyes flashing with anger. “Mind your fucking business.” Even though Bjorn was bigger, the man never wavered.
“This is my fucking business.” Anticipation roared through him.
The woman had retreated to the safety of the shadows. If she was smart, she was trying to find another way out.
“Three against one,” the one who’d made the kissing sounds pointed out. He wasn’t wearing anything under his jacket, his pale white flesh covered in gang tattoos. No boy scouts in this bunch. “You might want to move along.”
Bjorn stood with his arms at his sides and his legs apart and glared. He didn’t mind fighting, but that usually attracted attention, something he didn’t want or need. Not to mention he didn’t want to freak out the woman if she was still in the alley.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told them. “You want to see another sunrise, you move along.”
“Oh, big man.” The one who seemed to be the ringleader of this motley bunch slid a gun from beneath his jacket and aimed it at Bjorn’s chest. It was done with an ease that suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d pulled that move. Sweat beaded on his dark forehead, but his hand never wavered. “Now you gonna leave or do I shoot your ass?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. In a single glance, he took in their positions and decided who would go down first. His wolf howled inside him, but he kept his claws leashed and fangs hidden. There were likely security cameras around or a person with a cell phone. Someone was always watching.
Before he could make his move, a female scream filled with anger and a promise of retribution erupted from behind them. Bjorn froze. Goose bumps raced down his arms. His heart pounded. He hadn’t heard a battle cry like that in centuries.
Broken board in hand, she rushed toward them. Wielding it like a club, she cracked it against the back of one of her attacker’s head. He jerked forward and then crumbled to the ground.
The man with the gun spun around. A shot rang out.
Bjorn sprang forward, ripped the gun from the man’s hand, and smashed it against the side of the building with all his strength. The shattered metal pieces scattered to the ground.
His fists flew, followed by the satisfying crack of bones being broken. Two men were flat on their backs in the blink of an eye. Neither of them moved. The man who’d been hit in the head was still down.
The woman stood in the meager light that filtered into the alley. Not that he needed it to see. His vision was perfect, day or night.
She was magnificent with her long, dark blond hair falling to her waist. She had several smaller braids in front, but the bulk of it was free of confinement. Her eyes were the dark blue of the water on a stormy day. Her lips were full, nose narrow, and cheekbones high. Her chin was tilted up.
His heart stuttered, and he blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing—it was the face that filled his dreams.
His feet were stuck to the ground. He swallowed heavily and managed one step forward before grinding to a halt. Was she real or a figment of his imagination, conjured out of a deep-seated need that haunted him daily?
She didn’t back down but held the board higher. “Who are you?”
The harshness of her words didn’t stop the sweetness of her voice from sinking into the marrow of his bones.
He was blocking the light. All she could likely see was the outline of a big man. He licked his lips. “Anja, it’s me.”
Chapter Two
Those three words hit her like a lightning bolt, jolting all her senses. Memories swept over her like a sudden storm in the spring, leaving her lightheaded and chilled to the bone.
“Bjorn?”
He came toward her, his shifted position allowing the light to fall on his large form.
She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. How was this possible? Leaning on the wall for support, she drank in the sight of him, starved after so many years without him. His bare arms were covered in tattoos. His light hair fell past his shoulders; some of it in braids, the rest free. His features were blunt, his forehead high, and his jaw square. The fierce scowl on his face would undoubtedly scare most, but not her. She knew that face better than she knew her own.
Her heart raced.
Not sure she could trust him or her senses, she raised the piece of wood she’d found lying in the alley, gripping it hard enough to drive a splinter into her skin. It had already proved effective, but she’d had the element of surprise, something she wouldn’t have with this man.
“Tell me something only my husband would know.”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You have a tiny birthmark under your left breast. It’s a particularly sensitive spot.”
All the air left her lungs in a rush. Her arms began to tremble. The makeshift club slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and dropped to the ground with a thud.
“Bjorn?” It was too much to take in. Her knees buckled, unable to support her weight.
He surged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Thickly muscled arms wrapped around her, arms she hadn’t felt in so very long. His strength surrounded her, protected her as he lowered them both to the ground with her perched on his bent knees.
She raised her shaky hand and touched her fingers to his face. Disbelief mingled with wonder. His skin was warm. His beard was trimmed short, the bristles tickling her fingers. “Is it really you?” Her voice trembled. It was almost too good to believe, the culmination of all her prayers. “I’ve dreamed this so many times.” A single tear trailed down her cheek.
Too many nights she’d awakened alone, her body hot and aching, her arms empty with none to comfort her.
“If it is a dream, we’re sharing the same one, Anja.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “My beautiful Anja.”
Suddenly, none of it mattered—what had brought her here, the dark void, the men who’d threatened her. Her husband was here, and he was alive.
She slammed her fist into his shoulder. Pain radiated through her hand and down her arm. The man was built like a stone mountain.
“What the hell was that for?” Eyes wide, he shook his head and rolled his shoulders.
“Where have you been? I waited and waited.” All those lost years, while she served in Freya’s Hall.
He groaned and lowered his head, his lips grazing hers. It had been an eternity since their last kiss. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was low, thick with emotion. He pressed his mouth against hers. Heat sizzled through her, snaking down to between her thighs. He took her mouth again and again until all she could think about was kissing him back.