Page 3 of Blood Red Rage

It wasn’t glamorous or thrilling, but it kept the lights on in my tiny flat and kept food in the fridge. Stability over excitement I guess, and routine over chaos.

But routine suffocated me if I let it. So, every once in a while…once the spreadsheets and delivery schedules started blurring together, I let the girls drag me out. I put on a dress, painted on confidence, and let the bass rattle something loose in my chest.

Dancing was the only thing that turned my brain off in a way that didn’t end with guilt or consequences. Moving felt like shedding layers, like shaking the week off my skin. Every sway and shift blurred the stress until all that was left was instinct, heat, and the steady thrum that drowned out the rest of my life.

For a few minutes, I wasn’t the girl double-checking purchase orders. I was just a body in the dark, moving for myself. Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty, and then it happened. A prickle on the back of my neck. The undeniable feeling of being watched. I turned slowly and across the club, through the lasers and strobes and bodies grinding against each other I saw him.

Viking was leaning against the railing of the upstairs lounge. His arms crossed, his jaw set. His eyes locked on me with a focus that made the entire world narrow to a single point.

The music muted, the dancers blurred, and for one stretched-out heartbeat…It was just him and me. My breath caught. His expression didn’t change, still stormy, still harsh but something flickered across his face. Something hot, something questioning, something that made my blood feel too warm.

His eyes travelled slowly down my body…then back up…then locked with mine again. And damn it all, my knees actually weakened. What the hell was wrong with me?

Then, without breaking eye contact, Viking pushed off the railing and started down the stairs, every step looking like a promise, or a threat, or both. The club kept spinning, but all I could see was him walking straight toward me.

I swallowed hard. My heartbeat thrashed out of sync with the music, too fast, too loud, too noticeable. Which was stupid because I didn’t get nervous, and I definitely didn’t get undone by a man I’d never spoken to.

Yet there he was, parting the crowd without touching a single person. People sensed him and stepped aside on instinct, like their bodies had more survival awareness than their brains.

Steph appeared at my elbow out of nowhere, breathless. “Holy hell, he’s coming. He’s coming right to…”

“I know,” I snapped, though my voice sounded thinner than I wanted.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

I flicked her a look. “We don’t do anything. We dance.”

But I couldn’t even pretend to move. My body had gone still, tension coiling through every limb. Viking closed in, steps steady, eyes fixed on me like he was tracking a target. His size, his heat, the sheer gravity of him… it pulled at me in a way that felt dangerous.

He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my chin a little to meet his gaze. Close enough that I could smell leather and clean skin and something sharp, like winter air caught on metal.

For a second, he didn’t speak. He just… looked. Like he was studying a puzzle piece he hadn’t expected to find.

“You've been staring at me,” I said feeling my face heat.

A smile appears on his lips. “So have you.”

“I was curious.”

“About me?”

“Don't sound so pleased with yourself.” I see his smile widen as he holds out his hand.

“Viking Dragic.” My gaze dropped to his hand before lifting back to his face.

“I know. You're one of the Dragic brothers.”

“One of them?”

I purposefully look up towards where Draugr is standing. “Your parents had interesting taste in names.” I finally place my hand in his and everything around me seems to stop. The club disappeared; music became a distant vibration. Warmth from his hand rushed through my palm and straight up my arm.

My breath caught, my fingers twitched against his. “What was that?”

Instead of answering, he says. “Tell me your name.”

I narrow my eyes. “You introduced yourself first so I'd have to tell you mine, didn't you?”

“I already know your name.”