1. Chloe

CHLOE

“ H ooolyyy shit,” I mutter into the phone as my fingers freeze while staring at the man I’ve come to hopefully photograph and interview.

“What? What is it? What’s happened?” My sister EmaLeigh’s voice barely penetrates this fog choke-holding me. “Chloe!” Her shout brings me out of it.

“He’s not a freaking Viking, Em, he’s a Norse god.” And I’d like to kneel at his feet.

“Well, that’s something,” she responds humorously. My sister has her own mountain of a godlike man and refuses to even look at another. I love it for her. She deserves Sebastian’s devotion more than anyone I know.

“He’s something, alright.” My core tightens as the guy straightens to full height and turns, spotting me standing in his driveway, likely looking like a popsicle. “Uh, I gotta go, little sister; call you later.” Hanging up and pocketing my phone, I give a little wave as he scowls at me.

“Who are you?” His brusque voice is muffled by the wind whipping around the terrain, and I think his thick beard probably doesn’t help.

“Uhm, hi, I’m Chloe Ruin.” Stepping forward, the packed snow crunches under my boots, and momentarily, I wonder if I’ll sink right to the bottom of the mountain with one wrong step.

“Don’t care.” He turns his back on me and carries on with his wood chopping, and I get lost in the way his sculpted muscles move under his fitted, dark blue sweater.

“Aren’t you freezing?” I’m nearly numb, and I’m wearing an entire snowsuit plus three extra layers under it.

He shoots another glare my way and ignores the question. He’ll be a tough nut to crack, I see. “I don’t mean to disturb you.” A bark of laughter escapes him, carried by the wind over to me.

“Then you wouldn’t be here,” he snaps. For someone who has never left Greenland, his thickly-accented words are quite clear.

Stepping around the pile of wood he’s collecting, I slip on a piece of ice. My feet slide out from under me, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back with that damn pile of wood crushing me, re-evaluating if this assignment is worth the risk to my life.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you twit. What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?” His shout is filled with anger and concern.

I’ve never been much of a crier, but I feel myself about to. Not because he’s yelling at me but because he’s right.

I don’t belong here.

“Don’t move,” he growls, pulling one log after another off me until I’m free from the crushing weight. The glare on his face makes me hesitate when he offers a hand, helping me up. “Sure made a fucking mess. Thought you said you didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Sorry,” I murmur once I’m on my feet again. Wiping off the snow, I begin gathering the logs. I’m not a complete ninny. I can do work and certainly clean up after myself.

“What are you doing?” He sounds… confused?

“Cleaning up my mess,” I reply, stacking the pile the same way he had it. He grunts but doesn’t say anything else; he just goes back to chopping.

I’m not sure how long we work, but there’s a comfort in our companionable silence, and by the time I’ve got the last log on the pile, I’m sweating and no longer feeling cold. I understand why he’s only wearing a sweater now; that’s for darn sure.

“Chloe, stop moving.” His voice lowers with a healthy enough dose of warning, so I don’t just stop moving, I freeze altogether. I’m from Alaska; I know well enough that when someone issues a cautious statement, to damn well listen.

“What’s happening?” I whisper. I also know to ask questions so I can be prepared.

“Polar bear to my left.” I swallow roughly and force myself to remain in place. “You’re going to slowly move towards the porch, one gentle step at a time. Try to be as silent and stealthy as possible.”

I nod, then squeak out an okay so he knows I heard him as I stay low and begin to move. Each step feels like a mile. Each second feels like hours. And when I’m finally on the porch, I quietly and slowly open his front door, stepping inside, hiding behind the thick wood panel.

“I’m in,” I whisper, looking out to where the bear studies Rune.

Noticing a bar against the wall that would barricade the door, I ready myself to slam it shut and lock us in once he’s inside.

“Hold steady,” he encourages as he stands tall in all his Norse God glory. I swear he’s ten feet tall and just as big as that bear. “Tell me when I’m at the steps.” My eyes drop as he begins slowly working his way back to the porch.

“One more step.” I barely breathe the words out, but he somehow hears me. Adrenaline makes my ears ring, and I feel my heart pounding in every bone of my body as Rune moves up the steps and the bear charges, then stops, and charges again before reaching the woodpile and halting.

I hold my breath while Rune takes the final step and glides back towards me. The bear stands up, swiping his paws at the air and roaring, just as Rune enters the house. I slam the door shut, shove the bar down, and feel scorching heat at my back as the bear rushes the steps and slams into the door.

A hand clasps over my mouth before I can let out the scream building in my lungs. “Ssshhh, little one, he’ll only get angrier if you make noise.”

Nodding my head, I move to lick my lips and wind up licking the palm of Rune’s hand instead, forgetting that he’s keeping me quiet.

Thoroughly distracted now, my breathing picks up, and I lean back to try and get a look at my godlike Viking, only to find his perfect cocoa eyes are on me, too, as he pushes his front into my back. The man makes it impossible to miss his excitement.

Spinning around, the bar in my spine forces my back to arch, and his hand is now around my throat. Our breathing grows harsh, and that pull in my belly transforms into pure lust now.

I’m in so much trouble.