Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) by Sky Purington Page B

But could she hold her liquor?
    “Meyla, take your seat next to Raknar.” Naðr’s eyes locked with Megan and he patted his knee. “You. Come here.”
    Megan’s eyes widened a fraction then her brows lowered sharply. “The name’s Megan not you .” Then she stood up a little straighter. “And hell no I won’t sit on your lap.”
    She thought to defy him? His blood stirred and his cock turned to forged steel. Naðr slowly raised a brow. “Either you come here or I let Kol swing you over his shoulder and bring you here.”
    “Ah, yes.” Megan’s eyes narrowed between Naðr and Kol. “The brother who called me beiskaldi. ” This garnered a few hardy laughs. All of which died beneath Naðr’s frown. Beiskaldi? He wouldn’t acknowledge it now, but Kol would likely feel Naðr’s fist later for that one.
    Naðr’s words were soft with promise, eyes still locked with hers. “Your choice.”
    Megan swallowed and kept her eyes narrowed.
    Meanwhile, Meyla sat next to Raknar.
    After the moment had stretched longer than he would’ve liked, Naðr nodded at Kol.
    When his far-too-eager brother stood, Megan put up a hand, shook her head and frowned. “Fine then.”
    Naðr nearly licked his lips with anticipation as she made her way around. When she drew close, he wasted no time in taking her hand, spreading his thighs and plunking her down on one leg. Her beautiful eyes widened when she felt his erection press against her backside. He couldn’t help but murmur, “That’s for you.”
    Most likely stunned by his easy admission, her sinfully full lips pulled down. “You’ve no shame, do you?”
    Happier and more aroused than he’d been in far too long, he smirked. “None.”
    But for all the fire and disbelief in her eyes, he didn’t miss the slight shudder that went through her unbelievably sweet body. And it was one hell of a body. With his hand on her hip, he had a much better idea of what lay beneath the dress. It was firm yet curvy enough to likely entertain him for hours, maybe even days.
    Megan polished off her ale and set down the mug. “This is barbaric.”
    Naðr chuckled, nodded at each brother and properly introduced them. “You’ve already met Kol.” His eyes went to his other brother. “This is Raknar.”
    Megan and Raknar nodded at one another but said nothing.
    When Naðr made a motion with his hand, a fresh mug of ale was brought over for Megan. After it had been delivered, he looked from it back to her. “You should drink, woman. Seems you need it.”
    “Warm beer,” she said without much enthusiasm but drank nonetheless.
    Beer? Obviously what she called ale.
    “How else would it be?” He couldn’t contain a low growl of arousal as he watched her slender white throat work the fluid down.
    Megan’s lips stilled on the edge of the mug and she slowly lowered it. But he gave her credit. Instead of averting her eyes when a perfect stranger forced her to sit on his lap, her gaze bravely met his. And that’s exactly where he wanted it to stay. A man could spend forever lost in her otherworldly eyes.
    “Cold,” she said.
    Cold? Right, the ale, or beer . He continued to study her face, pleased that she didn’t look away beneath his scrutiny. Her fine brows were arched and her lashes thick. Where her brows were slightly darker than her hair, her lashes were considerably darker, adding an interesting intensity to her pale golden eyes. The planes of her face were well-formed with high cheekbones and a nicely shaped jaw. Her nose was small and straight. He especially liked the sun-kissed smoothness of her skin. Yet it was easy to see that aging would not lessen but enhance her beauty.
    Naðr was startled to realize he’d like to see fine lines form on her face someday. To see lines fan from the corner of her eyes because he made her laugh so much, perhaps a few on her forehead because he consistently shocked her. Maybe even some between her eyes because he managed to pull forth more scowls