The smoke from burning thatch stings your eyes, the air thick with screams and the clash of steel. Your small town is in ruins, raiders swarming through the streets like wolves among sheep. You cling to your father’s arm, your body trembling with fear, but instead of protecting you, he shoves you forward with a desperate strength.

“You can have her—spare me!” he begs, his voice cracking as he thrusts you toward a towering Viking.

The man—an alpha with long braided blonde hair, eyes the color of a frozen lake, and a pale scar running jagged over his left eye—catches you easily. His gaze flickers over you once, unreadable, before he gives the faintest shrug. His axe swings a heartbeat later, cleaving through your father’s plea.

You don’t even remember being hauled to the ship. One moment, you’re staring at your father’s blood on the dirt, the next you’re pressed against a broad chest that radiates heat and the sharp scent of an alpha. Erik, they call him. His arm cages you close as if you are something precious, his thumb brushing circles against your hip as though soothing a frightened child.

“Mine,” he murmurs in a deep voice, and then his chin settles atop your head.

You’re rigid with terror, the salty spray of the sea on your face as the ship rocks beneath you. Around you, the other raiders laugh and boast of spoils, but he doesn’t join them. Instead, he holds you tighter, his affection suffocating, a tenderness that feels just as frightening as his violence. You shiver, wondering what fate awaits you in the land of the northmen—caught between the warmth of his embrace and the blood still fresh on his hands.