Naughty in Norway (2 page)

“Mikkel!” She leans in, ivory cheeks tinged with a telltale blush, and hisses at him, “Really
,
if you’re out to embarrass me tonight then we’re out of here ... like, now.”

He places our drinks on the bar and grins sheepishly. “Relax, cousin, and have a seat. I need to go downstairs for more ice but I’ll see you both shortly.” Mikkel leaves the bar and we are left alone in the crowd. People surround us, talking and laughing, some of them dancing near the stage.

“Wild scene.” I have to say it loudly right in Lisetta’s ear in order for her to hear me. We settle into the row of tall leather barstools, a safe spot to observe everything going on around us, and I find myself starting to relax. Mikkel seems like a totally together guy so far.

At least we have one male ally here tonight.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that these biker parties can last for days. Can you imagine, Vail? Norwegian men certainly can drink, that’s no joke. Just for fun we’ll have to step you up to the real deal liquor, like Aquavit, my sweet.”

“I’m game, darling.”

I shed my coat and take a deep drink of the zesty orange flavored vodka while leaning back to take in the crowd. I’ve never seen so many men wearing black leather and Harley Davidson apparel. All of them are large in stature and most have facial hair. I would bet money that they’re all rocking multiple tattoos under their bad boy gear. Each member wears either a black leather vest or a full jacket complete with the red stitched patch ‘Devil’s Wrath MC’ embroidered in an arch across their shoulders. I find that the cool factor is raised especially high with the word “Oslo” located below the wicked looking horned demon who peers out in evil intensity from the center of their backs.

There are only about fifteen women, including us, at the party and most of them are wearing the standard tight cleavage-flashing tank tops with cut-off-your-circulation jeans. The majority of them are surprisingly attractive with the common factor being generous tits and lots of hair; but then again, in Norway, most everyone appears as if they’ve won the genetic lottery. Most of the ladies here seem to be with dates or boyfriends who clutch them with avid possessiveness.

I whisper against Lisetta’s ear, “Are we the only single women here?” The gnawing anxiety from earlier comes creeping back.

“I wouldn’t think so. Mikkel said there are a bunch of single ladies invited tonight and it’s still fairly early.” Her eyes go wide and she gestures with a discreet chin tilt. “Oh, look over there, Vail; in the far corner, that’s Bern on the right with the cropped blond hair. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

I lean back on the tall barstool to have a look across the room, toward the far corner area, and immediately spy Bern. He’s already locked his hungry gaze onto Lisetta. He appears to be in his late twenties with a sexy blond goatee and sky-blue eyes. He’s around six feet in height and built like a weightlifter. His leather vest stretches across his wide shoulders and his loose jeans can’t hide the powerful muscles beneath. 

“Mmm, so very delish, Lisetta.”

“I know, right?” she whispers mischievously with a saucy lilt in her fluid accent.

I’m just about to turn away when I see
him
.

He’s standing next to Bern and he’s watching me with blue eyes that resemble a frozen lake at dusk.

Oh my God.
My thoughts go into complete free-fall as my spine locks in place.

I’ve never seen eyes so stunning yet so impossibly cold in all my life. Even from across a smoke-filled room I can tell that they are such a luminous arctic blue that they appear to have their own light source streaming from behind them.

So very beautiful. Beyond words …

My pulse quickens in excitement. Curiosity gets the better of me and I match his unwavering stare while taking in the rest of his features. He’d be utterly beautiful if he didn’t appear violently menacing. His lips are full and deep pink but turn downward into a natural frown, lending a cruel sensuality to his face. He has magnificent corn-silk yellow hair liberally streaked with a deeper caramel color. It’s pulled back into a low, thick ponytail at the base of his neck and I can’t help but think of how gorgeous it would be if he were to set it free to fall in luscious waves around his wide shoulders.

His features are severe and exactly what you’d expect to find on a Nordic man—a perfect, deliberate nose and a sharp jaw covered in over a week’s worth of whiskers. It’s hard to judge from my seated position, but I would assume that he’s at least six foot six or taller because this stunning male towers over most everyone in the room.

I reluctantly break my gaze as Lisetta gushes, “I know, Vail! Bern is
so
fine, right? Is he still looking this way?”

“Yes, he’s still ogling you like a wolf and he’s everything you said and more. That body … I mean, come on, right? Maybe you can get him on that stripper pole with you tonight. I can picture it now.” I’m unable to suppress a soft giggle.

She looks beyond thrilled with my comment and adds, “I hope he comes over here. I don’t want Mikkel forcing anything between us, you know? Bern should want to talk to me himself, don’t you think?”

“You need to chillax, Lisetta. From the hungry look on his face you won’t be speaking with any other guy tonight except Bern.”

She shoots me a beaming grin as Mikkel returns and steps in close behind us.

“Come on, ladies, grab your drinks and you can leave your coats here. I’m going to give you the VIP tour.”

Carrying our cocktails, we follow him to the large lounge area, where a heated game of Wii Motocross is in full swing, complete with shouting and drunken laughter from the ten or so boisterous participants. Mikkel points ahead. “Through that hall back there are the restrooms, should you ladies need them.”

We cross over toward the band as Mikkel stops to shout, “And this is Death Squad. They always put on an outrageous show.”

They’re wailing away, playing what I think might be a Black Sabbath cover. I can’t be certain because thankfully I’m quite rusty on my death metal. From what I’ve heard, some Norwegians are way into hardcore music.

I lean up to him and ask against his ear, “Do they play anything other than, oh what do you call it here, black metal?”

His dark brows snap together as he says, “You do
realize that you’re standing in a biker bar, right?”

I grin at him.

“Then your answer is
fuck no,
sweetheart,” he says. “If they tried to play even one chord of that soft shit they’d be wearing their fucking instruments around their necks and walking their asses home. They know it, too, and would rather be beaten with a bat than disgrace themselves or the music that way.”

I lean back in surprise. “Oh.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment and then murmurs, “Yeah,
oh
. Come on, there are a few people I’d like you ladies to meet.”

His eyes flick to Lisetta’s and as I glance her way I can tell that she’s amped up, hoping that he means Bern.

I follow them through the crowd as we make our way to the back corner of the clubhouse. We wind around two huge, carved wood pool tables topped in red felt. It’s far darker back here and the long shadows lend a dangerous, almost gritty feel. I begin to feel a bit nervous again as we come to a stop directly in front of Bern and his two huge biker pals.

Act calm. Don’t let this stunning modern day Viking intimidate you, Vail.

In a deep voice, Mikkel makes the introductions. “Bern, Alreck, Ragnar, this is my cousin Lisetta who you’ve probably seen at our garage, and her American friend Vail who doesn’t speak much Norsk ... yet.” He smiles down kindly at me.

“I need to get back to the bar now. You two are in good hands with these guys.”

I’m not sure about good, but big, bad and sexy certainly come to mind.

I’m too nervous to look directly up into Alreck’s eyes so I turn to the dark-haired guy on Mr. Luscious’ right and say, “Ragnar, nice to meet you.” He offers a lip quirk and a chin lift. I peek at Lisetta and watch the magic begin to happen between her and Bern. He’s bending his impressive frame down slightly to hear her and she’s speaking up into his ear with a sensual smile on her pink bow lips.

Oh, here we go, somebody may be getting way lucky tonight.
The heat rolling off of these two hotties is off the charts!

With nowhere left to look, I cautiously look up through my eyelashes at Alreck. His massive arms are at my eye level and are folded across his leather-clad chest. His black jacket sports an embroidered, rectangular red badge over his heart that reads
Falstad.

Maybe that’s his last name?

My eyes meander farther up, noting his thick, tanned neck. As I take him in I see that he’s peering directly down into my eyes with merely a foot of space separating us. An uncontrolled bolt of lust shoots straight through my body as we lock gazes. I almost step back in awe at how beautiful those eyes are up close. The color is an icy, pale blue near the pupil that fans out to a dark, dense midnight toward the rim. They resemble an animal’s with their wild beauty. The fact that his perfect eyebrows are a medium brown color really magnifies their intensity.

He exhibits no emotion as he watches me carefully stare up at him. His expression is completely stoic with smooth control. He seems keenly observant and I would bet that he’s intelligent. Weighted seconds tick by and he makes no attempt to speak to me yet neither of us moves or diverts our stares. What on earth could he be thinking?

Cold,
I think to myself.
There’s something really wrong here, or maybe he just doesn’t speak English.

I don’t want to be the one to put myself out there and make pleasantries first. He’s far too intimidating for that and my Norwegian is on par with a kindergartener’s, so I slowly break away from his stare. I lean in close to Lisetta, touch her elbow and quietly say, “I’m going to visit the ladies’ room and then get some air. You two have fun. I’m totally good.”

She smiles, her eyes riveted on Bern. “Cool, Vail, see you soon,” she says before immediately resuming Flirt-Fest Twenty Thirteen with Bern once again.

Without a backward glance I turn and head across the now heaving party. A tingle flutters up my neck and I can actually
feel
Alreck’s eyes on me. I’m relieved to finally be able to take a deep breath after that intense encounter.

I decide to change course and grab another cocktail to help take the edge off. Mikkel dutifully entertains a group at the bar and everyone is laughing and chatting away in Norwegian.

He yells out heartily in English, “Hey, here she comes! Have a shot of Aquavit with us, Vail.”

“Bring it, barman. I’m ready!”

He laughs as he lines up shot glasses down the length of the dark granite bar. Lisetta wasn’t kidding; these Norwegian’s know how to party.

“It may be too strong for you, girl. Do you think you can handle it?” he asks.

With a cocky arched brow I retort, “Seriously, big guy? I’m from the land of Jack Daniels, Wild Turkey and Moonshine, so I’m pretty sure I can handle your cute yellow liquor.”

“Whoa!” The group of men and women shout and laugh at my jest as he pours a round for everyone. He hands me a glass. “This has been around longer than you Americans have been in your country, darling, so good luck.”

With a hand held high he loudly proclaims, “Skål!”

Everyone including myself toasts back to him, “Skål!” I down the shot in one gulp and nearly choke from the intensity of the burning. It’s very cold and has a slight aftertaste of caraway, anise and lemon.

Damn.
Aquavit packs a punch and floods my system like a downpour.

“That has to be eighty proof!” I choke out as tears well in my eyes.

Mikkel finds this hilarious and roars with laughter. “Ah, you’ll get used to it, Vail. It helps us keep warm. Did you like it?”

How can he not be affected by the strength of that? He didn’t even make a face after he drank it. I’m mystified. “Let me catch my breath first and I’ll get back to you, big man. It certainly is unforgettable. I’ll give it that.” With a wave I turn to head off toward the ladies’ room.

***

I wash my hands and toss the paper towel into the trash basket beneath the white pedestal sink before I look into the mirror to primp. The face reflected back at me looks delicately pretty with wide, almond-shaped midnight blue eyes framed by long, deep brown lashes. I’ve been blessed with my mother’s cheekbones, set high within a heart-shaped face. I’ve definitely lost some of my golden California tan since coming here, but I’ve still held onto a decent amount of glow. As a lifelong surfer I normally sport a year-round deep bronze hue and I can’t ever remember being this pale.

I pull out my Kent boar bristle travel brush from my black leather Prada cross-body purse, another secondhand gem, and run through my long waterfall of dark mahogany-brown hair. I finish up with a dab of sheer pink lip gloss as Lisetta strolls in.

Before I can greet her she begins, “Oh excellent, I was hoping to catch you in here. Are you having fun? I saw you doing an Aquavit shot. You’re so the woman! I thought that I wouldn’t be able to entice you into that until way later, after you were already drunk.” Her sweet, high-pitched laugh sounds like chimes.