Free The Viking's Pursuit by Nikki Winter

Chapter One
     
    Rebecca Williams—Becca to her friends and annoying older sister—had many incoherent moments she could recall in her lifetime. Yet this one had to be the worst. Why? Because in the light of day, as the sun’s rays slowly crept into her hotel room, illuminating every shadow and burning her goddamn eyes like someone had tossed acid in her face, she rolled over and saw him; him being her soon to be brother-in-law’s best man and cousin Dean Alexander. Long legs stretched out in front of the chair he rested in with his hands folded across his stomach—Dean’s head was tilted back as he slept, the early morning streams of light shining against his curly blond hair. His long lashes rested against his cheeks.
            Becca knew for a fact that those lids covered large baby blue eyes with flecks of silver, seeing as how that aqua gaze had swept her body more than once over the past few weeks of getting last-minute adjustments on Kyran and Ryssa's wedding completed. She wished like hell he’d stop staring at her like that. It was wearing on her last goddamn nerve. All. Day. Every. Single. Day. Since she’d met him that was all he’d been doing. Staring at her like she hung the moon or some shit.
            What was with that? Whatever big Viking “pillage and conquer” ideas he had, he needed to forget them—quickly. Becca wasn’t the settling-down type, nor did she plan to be anytime soon. Her life was fine the way it was—playing the math wiz by day and the partygoer by night. She didn’t need someone trying to tie her down or make her commit. Least of all a man who wouldn’t bend when she wanted him to.
            And Becca knew Dean wasn’t the bending type. No, he’d make her bend. As much as he wanted. Whenever he wanted, and there was no way in hell she was giving in to that. After this wedding, she’d never have to see him again, and she was perfectly fine with that. Her eyes flew wide as her mind paused on the fact that not only was her sister about to marry her best friend of fifteen years, in just another two days from now, but Becca couldn’t remember shit past the beginning of the rehearsal dinner last night. Her gaze swept from the large man sleeping soundly in her room to her lack of clothes.                                                  
    “What the hell did I do last night?” Becca rubbed the palms of her hands against her eyes, realizing that she was currently suffering the effects of an open bar and entirely too much damn time on her hands. Her head pounded.
    “Jesus.”     
    The rustle of fabric drew her attention back to Dean—the man who’d had entirely too much fun tormenting her. His mouth stretched wide as he yawned. Then those baby blue eyes slowly peeked open as he lifted his head and looked directly at her. She felt her heart stop momentarily as one side of his lush pink mouth lifted, giving her a glimpse of his dimpled left cheek. “Ah, Queen of the Dance has arisen from her vodka-induced slumber.”
            Okay, that statement didn’t bode well... “Vodka?” Becca squeaked. “I had vodka? Someone actually let me near vodka?” From past experience and Ryssa having to use the lines, “Officer, I am so sorry for my sister's behavior,” Becca avoided vodka as much as possible. It was quite obvious that hadn't happened yesterday. 
            Dean yawned again and swiped one huge hand down his face. “Yup...right before the dancing started.”
            Wincing, she said, “Why do I feel like this story gets worse?”
            He gave her a bright grin. “Oh, because it does. The dancing started before the sobbing.”
            “Not you, of course,” he quickly cleared up.
            “Not me? Then who?”
            “Just the other groom’s man that you made hysterically cry in a room full of people because he thought it’d be fun to