Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance #3)
by Jianne Carlo
Erotic Historical Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Etopia Press
Release Date: May 3, 2013
Heat Level: Sizzling
Word Count: 73,000
Can a Viking forgive the woman who cheated him of his vengeance?
All Dráddor has to do is kill the Earl of Caithness, wed the man’s daughter, and vengeance would be his and the oath to his father would be fulfilled. But when he arrives at Caithness, the earl is already dead, poisoned by own wife. And when he finds the earl’s daughter, the Lady Xára, he find she’s unable to speak. Unwilling to be thwarted, Dráddor marries her anyway to claim the earl’s lands and title, knowing King Kenneth could not fault him for later casting her aside.
Desperate to protect her family, Xára willingly weds the Viking. She must win Dráddor to her side before he discovers the secret that will destroy all. But the Saracen warrior, Niketas, has other plans. He needs the blood of two virgin half-immortals to win eternal life and the powers of the gods. Until the god Heimdallr, Xára’s true sire, makes it clear he has other plans for his beloved daughter…
About the Author:
Award winning author, Jianne Carlo’s motto is simple: Alpha Me Please.
While strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte, she goes weak in the knees for warriors and alphas. Send her a man with an attitude and she’ll find the right woman to tame him.
Jianne loves hot and spicy food, stomach-plunging park rides, and is kept on her toes by her Viking husband of thirty-five years, and three, handsome grown sons. There’s nothing she likes more than hearing from readers.
Connect with Jianne Carlo
Vengeance Hammer, Vengeance Warriors Book 3: Excerpt:
The tall cliffs separating the castle from the bay cast deep shadows over most of the rocky beach. Konáll’s langskip, Dauði Dkellr, named for his axe, Death Blow, sailed through the entrance to the bay. The ship rode the rough waves and on each trough, the mast of the boat following rose like a beacon.
When Dauði Dkellr anchored in the middle of the bay and let down a small rowboat, Dráddør shaded his eyes and squinted. “’Tis Konáll, to be cert.”
“Do my eyes deceive me or is that a woman they are lowering into your brother’s arms?” Tighe peered at the small boat.
Dráddør clamped his dropped jaw tight. “Nay, you have the right of it. ’Tis Nyssa. I cannot believe Konáll set out to journey here with his wife swollen with child. He is as nervous as a nun about the babe and in less than three sennights the channels will freeze. Why would he take such a risk? If ’twere not for King Harald and King Kenneth’s urgent summons, e’en I would have waited until the spring to claim Lathairn and the title.”
“Thanks to your god, Odin, you did not. Néill most cert would have raped Xára and claimed both the title and the lands long before spring.” Tighe laid the bleached branch on a flat boulder and with quick, short flicks carved the outline of a sword.
Dráddør tracked the boat approaching the cove.
“Hail.” The shout echoed around the bay.
Dráddør waved and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Best you disembark in the calm pool to your right.”
The two Vikings rowing the boat changed direction.
Tighe pocketed the small sword he’d carved. Both men walked to the one spot of tranquility in the bay, a tiny alcove where the ocean lapped the rock-strewn sand instead of pounding and thrashing away the beach clinging to the cliff’s base. They watched as Konáll hopped out of the small boat and stood in the knee-deep water to swing Nyssa high against his chest. The grim cant of his mouth spoke volumes.
Dráddør braced himself for his brother’s anger.
Konáll strode forward. He kicked away a clump of brackish seaweed tangled around his soaked boot, and stomped to a halt in front of the two men.
“Why are you here? What is so amiss you risk the life of your wife and the child she carries?” Dráddør asked.
“Good Morn, brother. ’Tis many moons since we last broke bread together.” Nyssa leaned forward and pecked Dráddør’s cheek.
“He knows full well ’tis not a paltry visit, woman. Tell him the all of it,” Konáll growled.
“We came to help you,” Nyssa replied. “You have need of us.”
Dráddør shook his head. “Nay. All is in hand. I have claimed the title and wed and bedded the heiress to the lands. I have no need of either of you. What sent you here? Nyssa, you are full with child. Risk you your babe? For the Winter-fylleþ is nigh upon us and one storm can see you here for the season.”
“I have been asking those same questions of my wife,” Konáll snarled.
Nyssa sent her husband a petulant, narrow-eyed scowl. “And I have told you time and time again, Dráddør needs us. Mús said so.”
“My wife stowed away on the langskip. Sweetly pretended to see me off on the journey she insisted I make.” He glared at his wife. “I should tar your arse.” Konáll looked ready to howl in frustration.
“Mús said Dráddør needed my healing powers.” Nyssa’s mouth pursed.