All Fired Up by Kristen Painter Page A

hung up the phone. Time to have a long talk with the Viking about what was acceptable and what was not, at least in front of her family. She turned to face Alrik. He was gone.
     
    ***
     
    “You press your boundaries, Phoenix.” Freya’s voice carried an edge as sharp as the massive gold sword resting across her lap. From the twin braids that hung on either side of her face to the highly polished gilt armor she wore, the goddess before him was pure Valkyrja. A sure sign she was angry. Eros was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he had a new charge or maybe he was helping another Phoenix. Alrik wanted to groan. Freya was hard enough to manage when Eros was around.
    Sitting on a carved throne, she stroked the blade with a scrap of lamb’s wool, polishing it to a mirror sheen. “There is to be no interference. You know that.”
    “Aye, but I was not interfering.” But he had been close, he knew that. Asking for the kiss pressed the boundaries.
    Her hand stopped moving. She looked up, eyes of piercing indigo meeting his gaze. “Do not mock me, Viking.”
    He bit his tongue to keep the torrent of words at bay. Nothing he wanted to say would help.
    In a deliberate show of strength, she hefted the sword with one hand, spinning the hilt effortlessly to lay the unpolished side down across her lap. The slow stroking of the blade began anew. “If you want a woman, take your pick among the mortals of your charge’s time as the other Phoenixes do.”
    “I do not want a woman.” He kept an edge in his voice and hoped she did not realize he truly meant her.
    “So you have told me.” She kept her eyes on the blade. “But your actions say otherwise. Have you changed your mind, Viking?”
    “Nay. I want no woman.” Save the bronze-eyed lass who held his talisman. She had been so close to asking for a kiss. He clenched his fists to quell the sudden upsurge of desire.
    Freya stood and slid the sword into the sheath at her waist, keeping one hand wrapped around the amber-encrusted pommel. She came eye to eye with him. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as you look.”
    Her finger traced the line of his jaw, her eyes now the warm blue of a summer sky. A playful smile turned up the corners of her lush mouth. “You are right not to want a mortal. There are greater pleasures to be had.”
    He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, calming breath. Her hand went lower, caressing his chest, but still he kept silent.
    Her honeyed tone dripped over him like poison. “Behind each of Valhalla’s five hundred forty doors lies a different pleasure, and I hold the key to every one. Your every imagining would be fulfilled.”
    “I want no woman until I gain my vengeance.”
    She pulled away, cobalt flames dancing in her eyes. “You are a single-minded fool. No wonder Dagny led you like a lamb to the slaughter.”
    He opened his mouth, a curse on his tongue, but he was already back in Calleigh’s home. The new location did nothing to quell his anger. Freya had deliberately quoted Dagny to stir his blood.
    “There you are.” Calleigh smiled and pointed to the bundle waiting for him. “I wondered where you went. Your clothes were done, so I folded them up and put them on the couch for you.”
    Like a balm, her kindness soothed him. She had changed into a pale green knitted top that hugged her body, and her hair fell in soft waves around her beautiful face.
    She came closer, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay? You look a little funny.”
    “Aye, Calleigh lass, I am fine.” He wished he could hold her. The comfort of an innocent woman’s embrace would soothe the vexation Freya had measured upon him.
    “Are you hungry? It’s almost seven. I thought we could go to this little Thai place around the corner since I don’t have much in the house.”
    “I will go wherever you wish.” Freya’s touch still burned his skin, and he grimaced.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” She put her hand on his forehead. “You don’t look so good.”
    Inhaling