Rune King's Daughter Read online

  Rune King’s Daughter

  Rune Series Book 4

  By:

  Amelia Wilson / J.A.Cummings

  Table of Contents:

  Invitation From The Author

  Also By Amelia Wilson

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Rune Series Other Books

  Note From The Author

  Preview: UnBearable Romance Series Book 1

  Copyright © 2018 by Amelia Wilson/J.A. Cummings

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Invitation From The Author

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  ∞ Amelia ∞

  Also By Amelia Wilson

  A RIZER PACK SHIFTER SERIES:

  Love Beyond the wall

  Sight of Love

  Claimed by Love

  In Love with the Enemy

  Love for you Alone

  A Rizer Wolfpack Series BOX SET

  RUNE SERIES:

  Rune Sword

  Rune Master

  Rune Hunter

  Rune King's Daughter

  Rune Romance Complete Series BOX SET

  SENSUAL ABDUCTION SERIES

  Aeon Captive

  Aeon Fugitive

  Aeon War

  Aeon Ending

  Sensual Abduction Series Box Set

  UNBEARABLE ROMANCE SERIES

  Bearly Deniable

  Hunting for Love

  The Soul of a Bear

  UnBearable Romance Series

  THE ADNA PLANET SERIES

  Baston

  Sca

  Ruby

  The Adna Planet Series Box Set

  THE BLUE FALLS SERIES

  Rival Love

  Strong Love

  Magic Love

  PHOENIX RAISING SERIES:

  Awakening

  Ignition (July 18)

  WICKED VAMPIRE SERIES:

  A Chosen Fate

  A Dark Truth

  A VAMPIRE IN DISGUISE SERIES:

  A Friend in Love

  A Witchy Girl

  A Final Game

  A Vampire in Disguise Box Set

  Others...

  To Catch A Killer

  The Alien Surrogate

  Alien Message

  Wild Winter

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmeliaWilson/

  Website: http://www.ameliawilsonauthor.com/

  Twitter: @AmeliaWilsonB

  Instagram: @ameliawilson.author

  Prologue

  When the train slowed at the station, she barely waited for it to stop before she leaped on board. The passengers who were trying to exit the train gave her nasty looks as she pushed past them, but she cared little for their opinions. She only wanted to get the hell out of Sweden.

  She sat in the middle of the car, more than arm’s length from any of the windows, just in case someone tried to punch through and grab her. Her father was powerful and had many, many soldiers who would be more than happy to drag her back to him for punishment. She had seen the things he was capable of doing, and she wanted no part of it.

  The car exchanged riders with the platform, and several men and women, and even a few children, pressed in past the doors. She crossed her legs and clutched her duffel bag on her lap, her hand covering her face. She let her fingers stroke the tattoo of Hagalaz on her neck, a nervous habit she had developed since her father’s woman had become Rune Master. She nervously studied the people who climbed on board, but to her vast relief, there were no Draugr among them. She felt like she could almost breathe again.

  Then he walked in.

  He was no Draugr, but he was just as unwelcome to her as a Draugr would have been. He was tall and dark, with long hair and a black leather jacket that was more than a little worse for wear. It looked like someone had taken scissors to it, totally shredding the motorcycle club logo on his back and severing the attached belt. The dangling buckle bounced against his muscular thigh as he walked in and sat on a bench in the other half of the car. There was something strange about him, a shimmer around him that prevented her from seeing his true nature. He wasn’t human, but she wasn’t able to see what he was, which was so much more frightening.

  She realized that he was staring at her, and the hand that she held to conceal her face began to tremble. He looked away, maybe to trick her, maybe to be polite. It was so difficult to tell. She gathered her bag and rose, determined to wait for the next train, but a trio of Draugr men appeared on the platform. One of them, dressed in an immaculate black suit and a matching woolen coat, both far too warm for the heat of the evening’s summer weather, lit a cigarette and shook out the match. His eyes locked onto hers, and he took a long drag, then breathed out smoke in a long stream that he sucked back in through his nostrils. He pointed at her.

  The doors closed. The train began to pull away. The Draugr and his companions, who were in suits of a less-expensive variety, just watched her as she was carried away from them.

  What are they doing? she asked herself, panicking. What are they waiting for?

  She looked back and watched them as they receded, vanishing around the bend as the 9:15 from Stockholm to Paris sped away.

  She clutched her bag, looking at the dark-haired man in the shredded jacket. A lock of blonde hair, recently bleached to conceal her native red, fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away. She shouldn’t have cut her hair. It got in the way too easily now, which she would not have expected. Maybe she should have cut it shorter. Maybe she…

  She took a deep breath and realized that the man in the shredded jacket was staring at her again. Maybe she should have flown.

  The DSB train line she had chosen was her cheapest option, but it would take 20 hours to get to France, including a three-hour transfer in Germany. There would be stops in Malmö, Copenhagen, Hamburg, Cologne and then Brussels before it finally reached Paris tomorrow night. She clutched her route map and tried to stop shaking. There would be five options to bail out on this train before she committed to the final destination, five opportunities to run if the man in the jacket didn’t stop staring.

  Why is he just staring?

  She whispered words of magic, and she tried to put up a protective enchantment. The man saw her spell and chuckled, unimpressed. She wanted to scream.

  She jumped to her feet and headed back through the train toward the dining car. Hopefully she could find a private berth
that she could sneak into before the man in the jacket caught up with her.

  She looked over her shoulder. He stood up, too.

  She walked faster, heading through the sliding doors at the end of the car, passing the connector and going into the next car. She cut through that car, and then the next, moving quickly. There were no private cars that she could break into, unless they were on the other end of the train, which meant that she would have to pass him to find out.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned around and faced back the way she had come. A man and woman, speaking quietly to each other with their heads together like lovers came into the car. They were the only people moving around, other than her. The seats were nearly full, all the way from this car through to where she had been sitting. That knowledge gave her some comfort in knowing that the man in the jacket wouldn’t be fool enough to attack her with so many witnesses.

  She hoped.

  A cold breeze blew past her, and she looked for an open window. There were none that she could see. She gritted her teeth and slung her bag over her shoulder, shoving her ticket and train itinerary into her pocket as she did. She was getting so tired of being afraid.

  A hand grasped her elbow, and she nearly screamed. She spun toward whoever had grabbed her, but there was nobody standing there. The man in the seat beside her looked at her with disapproval, clearly thinking she was drunk or high or something equally foolish. She looked at him and wanted to beg him for his help, but he was only human and would be worse than useless. She tried to turn away, but the hand on her elbow - the invisible hand - held her fast.

  “Stop running and walk back to the car you came from,” a deep masculine voice said in her ear. “Nod if you’ll cooperate.”

  She had no choice. The hand on her arm was like a vice, and she was not strong enough to break free without resorting to magic. Doing something like that would be suicide in a place as filled with humans as this car. She nodded.

  “Good. Walk.”

  She felt another hand take hold of the collar of her jacket, and the hand on her elbow let go. She could have pulled free, could have dropped the bag and struggled out of the jacket and tried to get away… but no, that would have accomplished nothing. She could not get away from this invisible captor without starting a riot.

  She walked.

  Step by step, he force-marched her back to the first car, depositing her back onto the seat. She felt his hand release her, and then he was sitting beside her, fully visible. His dark hair was hanging down over his golden-brown eyes and his shredded leather jacket was stained with old blood. She could smell it.

  “What do you want?” she whispered, terrified.

  “I think that we can help each other,” he said. “You are Valtaeigr.”

  “And you are…”

  “Ulfen.” The corner of his mouth turned up, somewhere between a smirk and a sneer, and he added, “Mostly.”

  He didn’t feel Ulfen. She wanted to ask him why that was, but instead she stayed silent, sullenly holding her bag between them, trying to shelter behind it as if it were a shield. The Ulfen did not take offense. Indeed, it seemed as if he understood. He sat back in his seat and consulted his own ticket and itinerary.

  “I figure we’ll be out of their immediate territory once we get to Cologne,” he said. “There’s currently no pack there. I don’t know about Draugr.”

  When she spoke, her voice was a husky whisper, filled with dread. “The Draugr are everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere. Most of them are still in Sweden, I believe, waiting to celebrate the royal wedding.” She could feel her expression sour, and she looked away. He chuckled. “Not a fan of the new king, I see. Or maybe it’s his intended you don’t care for.”

  She didn’t respond to his implication. “Is there a pack in Paris?”

  “Of course. And in Brussels, and in Copenhagen.” He tucked the itinerary into his jacket’s breast pocket. “I was planning to get off at Cologne. You could get off with me.”

  “There are vampires in Cologne.”

  “Maybe. But there are more of them in Paris. I thought you’d know that.”

  She cursed under her breath. Of course there were. She wasn’t thinking.

  “You smell like a runner,” he told her. “Your fear is coming off of you in clouds. You might want to reel that shit in.”

  “Well, you just jumped me from under camouflage, so pardon me for being a little nervous,” she snapped.

  This time, against all odds, he actually did smile. He offered her his hand. “Dominic, formerly of the Pikkarala Pack.”

  “Formerly?”

  He smiled more broadly, revealing a set of white, even teeth. “When a person introduces himself, it’s customary to introduce yourself in return.”

  She sighed, irritated with herself and with him. “Mia.”

  They shook hands. His skin was warm and calloused. He had done a lot of manual labor in his day, she thought, or perhaps the roughness of a werewolf’s paw pads translated to the palms of their human hands.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mia.”

  “If you say so.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t want your help.”

  Dominic nodded. “All right. Far be it from me to force you to accept my company.” He rose. “Have a good trip, Mia.”

  He walked back to his seat and sat down, looking out the window. He was ignoring her now, which seemed strange after he had spent so much time staring at her so fixedly. Paradoxically, she almost missed his attention.

  It didn’t matter. The last thing she needed was a werewolf hanging around when she was trying to get to America.

  There was a thump on the top of the car, barely audible over the noise of the wheels on the track. Dominic looked up, immediately on his guard. The thump was followed by a series of slow, deliberate footfalls, moving across the roof until they stopped directly over Mia’s head.

  It was the Draugr.

  The Ulfen rose and rushed to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him into the next car, moving in the direction opposite the one she’d been traveling in before. She clung to her bag and followed him, preferring the company of a strange werewolf to that of the vampires who were hunting her on behalf of her father. They burst through first one set of doors, then another, traversing three cars in their flight. The Draugr footsteps followed them on the roof, keeping pace all the way.

  “Pray for a tunnel,” Dominic told her.

  He found a toilet and pulled her inside with him. There was barely room for both of them to stand, especially since he was so broad. He pressed up against her, his chest against her back, his pelvis tight against her buttocks, and he wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his camouflage envelop them both, and she held her breath, although she knew that it made no difference if she were breathing or not.

  The footsteps continued past them on the roof, running farther down the car before they stopped short and turned. The Draugr circled back, then hesitated. He had clearly lost the scent. His footsteps raced away.

  “Is he gone?” she asked.

  “Shh.”

  They heard the car doors open, and the same footsteps stalked down the aisle. They hesitated outside the toilet, and Dominic covered her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet. She grabbed his hand with hers, simultaneously clinging and trying to tear it away from her face. He resisted her efforts, and then, miraculously, the Draugr outside the door walked away.

  They listened until the footsteps vanished completely in the rushing of a car door as the Draugr abandoned the train. Mia sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. She nearly dissolved into tears; only her pride and her unwillingness for a werewolf to see a Dark Sister in tears allowed her to keep her composure.

  Dominic released his hold on her mouth and backed up as much as he could in the confined space. “He’s gone,” he told her.

  She slid away from him, stepping out of the toilet and into the aisle. He followed her. “Whose blood is all over yo
ur jacket? Your last kill?”

  He looked insulted and tossed his head. “Mine.”

  When he moved his jaw, she saw a raised scar on his throat, the clear mark of a Draugr attack that had not healed well. She had never seen an Ulfen who didn’t heal from a vampire bite.

  “What happened to your throat?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he grumbled. “You know what that is.”

  “Why didn’t it heal?”

  He popped the collar of his jacket, hiding the mark. “I guess I’m just lucky that way.” He walked away from her, but after he’d gone a few feet, he turned back to face her. “You’re welcome.”

  She didn’t respond right away. She just went back into the toilet and closed the door, locking it behind her.

  Chapter One

  Erik sat in what had been Magda’s office at Snake Eyes and looked at the pile of ledgers on the desk. Nika crouched behind him, rummaging through the bookshelf, pulling out more of the leather-bound record books and piling them up beside the first. She stopped and stood beside him, one hand on her hip, the other on his shoulder. He snaked an arm out and encircled her legs with it, his hand on her thigh.

  “That’s the last five years,” she said. “Do you have any Draugr accountants that we can pay to go through this mess for you?”

  He sighed and flipped through the pages of the top book on the pile. “They’re not actually a mess. Magda was very precise and deliberate. Her records are pristine.” He turned another page, then closed the book. “But you’re right. I am no accountant, and I can’t begin to figure out whether this place is in the black.”

  Across the room, another vampire sat cross-legged, examining a list of invoices. She was dressed in blue jeans and a Detroit Red Wings hockey jersey with a big number 5 on the back. Her hair was spiky and dyed improbable colors. Her ears had each been pierced five times, and a gold hoop pierced her left eyebrow. She had a tracery of tattooed cobras around her wrists like permanent bracelets. She looked like any other millennial in Stockholm…except for the fangs. “Oh, Snake Eyes is in the black,” she said. “But whether it stays that way once the supply of illegal dreyri runs out is anybody’s guess.”