Riders of Tyr - Book cover

Riders of Tyr

Adelina Jaden

Exchanging Pleasantries

BJORN

“You.”

The woman narrows her eyes. She shrinks low to the ground, probably intimidated by the sight of me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I take a step into the room. “Why did you save Pasado?”

“Why did you try to kill him?” she counters, standing up straight again.

“You first.” I gesture with my Beretta. “You’re not really in the position to ignore my questions, little lady.”

“I don’t know, big guy…” She rolls her eyes.

This chick has got some balls!

“I think you’re in over your head…and you don’t even realize it,” she continues.

“Says the girl without the gun,” I reply.

Before I have time to process what's happening, she hurls a dagger from the palm of her hand, which sinks into the top of the doorframe an inch from my head.

My hand tightens around the gun. “What the fuck!?”

“That was a warning,” she says, stepping toward me. “Next time it’s going between your eyes.”

Who is this woman?

And…

Why haven’t I shot her yet?

“Why do the Riders of Tyr want Javier Pasado dead?” she asks coolly.

“How do you know I’m with the Riders of Tyr?”

How could she know about us? I’m not wearing my cut.

“Your ink.” She smirks with her sexy, full lips.

For a moment, I wonder what they taste like.

“Are you deaf? Answer me.”

I just stare at her, dumbfounded, trying my best to hold her gaze.

And not on the way her ebony hair—pulled up into a ponytail—accentuates her perfect jawline. Or her delicate skin—though delicate is probably the last word I’d use to describe this woman.

Her curves are like…like…

Fuck, Bjorn!

Get your head in the game.

NOW!

I attempt to clear the mental fog crowding my thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

Which is?

Oh, right.

Killing her.

The gun suddenly feels heavy in my hand.

My trigger finger tenses.

Trembles.

As if she’s reading my mind, she dives forward in a somersault and springs up from the floor.

With the fastest roundhouse kick I’ve ever seen, she sends the gun flying from my hand.

It skids across the floor and under the bed.

Shit!

I just barely dodge her left jab, turning to throw my shoulders into her side. Barreling into her with all of my weight, I send her flying backward, directly into the glass coffee table behind her.

The table shatters beneath her, and then she’s on her ass, coughing in a heap of broken glass.

I almost feel…bad?

But I don’t have time to grasp the thought, because suddenly she’s on her feet again—flying at me like a fucking spider monkey on crack—in some sort of gymnastic move that would DQ you from the Olympics.

Her legs barrel toward my face, wrapping around my neck and putting me into a chokehold.

I've never fought someone like this in my life.

It’s so…

Hot.

Shut up, brain!

She pulls me down to the floor with her legs, tightening her grip around my neck, and I’m suddenly aware of my face’s proximity to her lady parts.

In fact, I can feel a slight heat coming from the seam of her leggings…

I’m lying on my back, gasping for air with my head in her crotch while she calmly leans over me. Her eyes piercing into mine, it dawns on me that I might not actually win this fight.

That would be a first.

“Do you realize just how much you’ve fucked things up for me?” She squeezes her thighs again, constricting my windpipe. I can feel my face going purple.

She pulls something out of her hair—a long, silver hair pin with a sharp, pointed end.

Another knife, I realize.

Badass!

No—BAD, you ass!

She’s gonna kill me with that thing!

What is it with this chick?

My arms flail for something—anything—to get her tight ass off me.

I’m starting to see spots now.

My lungs are on fire.

And she’s just playing with me.

AVA

“I’m never gonna be able to get to him now. Not without help,” I growl.

This wannabe Viking has managed to grab hold of a shard of glass from the floor. He swipes blindly at me, slashing my shoulder.

I lose my grip on his neck for a split second, which he uses to grab hold of my waist. He throws my body headfirst into the carpet, and I somersault toward the broken glass.

The hairpin slips from my hand, bouncing across the carpet.

Damn, this guy is strong…

Hot as hell too.

Each time his skin touches mine, I feel that same electricity from our first encounter. Something stirring deep inside of me.

My core clenches, wondering what his hands might feel like if they weren’t currently trying to kill me.

Goddamnit, woman.

Focus!

I land on my feet in a crouching position with my back turned to him.

Just as I feel him charging me, I aerial flip backward, grabbing onto his shoulders in mid-air, and body-slam him to the ground.

“Fuck,” he stammers, coughing, lying on his back again.

I’m on my stomach, head-to-head with him, about to spring myself on top of his chest and end this thing, when he kicks the wooden chest of drawers sitting beside us, sending the ancient box-TV toppling forward, landing on my chest.

Shattering all around me.

God, that hurts!

We both lie there for a second, trying to catch our breath, formulating our next moves.

“You okay, big guy?” I wheeze, craning my neck to see that he’s still on the ground.

“Considering,” he replies, almost cheekily. “You?”

“Never been better.” I slowly pull the destroyed box off my body and push myself to my feet, turning around to face him.

He’s standing now, pulling his long, dark hair up into a bun.

Sweat rolls down his forehead, finding its way into his beard.

I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

I charge him once more, and he catches the first punch I throw, grazing the top of my head with his own massive fist.

Just as I send a quick cross into his ribs, he drops his shoulders and barrels into me again, thrusting me backward.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him with me as I go flying back once more.

But this time, something else breaks my fall.

Something…soft?

Oh, God.

The bed.

He’s lying directly on top of me, in the center of the bed, as our bodies press into each other. I can feel each heave of his chest as he gasps for air.

The rapid beating of his heart.

We’re practically nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes.

And that’s when I realize…

Neither one of us is doing anything.

His lips are dangerously close to mine, and as I watch those beautiful green eyes, which I notice have tiny flecks of gold in them, it looks like he’s thinking the same thing.

Every inch of my body craves his.

Including…

Oh my God.

Is he?

My eyes fly down to my crotch, or his crotch, or the place where they’ve mashed together.

Because his is distinctly hard.

Or should I say…erect.

He’s got a fucking hard-on!

…And it’s…

Fucking enormous.

I’m completely breathless. Temptation almost overcomes me.

No! I’m better than this!

Just as his eyes widen in the same realization, I shift my weight, rolling him onto his back, so that I’m straddling him.

I can feel him growing even harder now.

Before I have time to give it a second thought, I dive off the bed, searching blindly beneath it, until I locate what I’m looking for.

Yes!

His gun.

“Checkmate.” I point the barrel at him, grinning wickedly.

“You…”

“Get on your stomach,” I interrupt, motioning with the gun. “Hands behind your back.”

I watch him contemplate his next move, realize that there isn’t one, and do as he’s instructed.

Gun still trained on him, I move to my purse, removing the handcuffs I’d reserved for Pasado.

I climb onto his back, mounting his chiseled and now sweaty figure, hastily securing his wrists. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls, struggling against the cuffs.

“Tell me why the Riders of Tyr want Pasado dead.”

I walk around to look at him. He huffs silently for a moment or two, then glances up at the gun.

“He’s been leading raids against us. Stealing our shit,” he admits finally.

“Your president gave the order?”

“My king,” he spits. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“See, here’s the thing…” I pace in front of him, biting my lip, and my mind is racing. “I need him. Alive.”

“Why?”

“He’s got a bounty on his head. A fat one. And it was already a pretty tough job, nearly impossible to do by myself—and then you had to come in and fuck everything up for me. Now I’ll never get him alone.”

“So what—you’re some kind of cop?” he asks in noticeable dismay.

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Do I look like a cop?”

He doesn’t say anything…his pride is probably still aching.

“I’m a bounty hunter. How far away is your clubhouse?”

He cranes his neck to stare at me in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“An hour, maybe.”

“Take me there,” I say, folding my arms.

“Are you fucking with me?”

"Not one bit," comes my response, a smirk playing on my lips.

"It's high time your king and I had a small little chat."

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