Elara’s father reached out, tracing the tiny scar under her eye. Sucking on her lip, she struggled to put into words what she and Njáll had.
How did she even begin to explain Freyja, seiðr, and the draugar?
Warmth bloomed low in her belly. Elara palmed her navel, deciding simpler was probably better. Her eyes drifted to the cold furs beside her, imagining Njáll’s broad, comforting figure nestled in close.
“I love him, Papa.”
The simple vow hung in the air, thickening with each passing moment. Her father’s throat worked, and a long, shuddering sigh rolled off his tongue. He sat next to her, still holding her hand.
“I see. You intend to stay here with him?”
“Yes. He is my forever,” Elara said with a sincere finality.
“After everything he has done, he does appear worthy of you.” Lips pecked her forehead and her father pulled back to meet her gaze. “I suppose I should get settled then. The Konungr offered me a home by the river, should I choose to stay with you. Your Jarl also offered more gold than I could ever need.”
A broad smile touched her eyes, Elara laughing as she wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. She pulled him close and he grunted, gently returning her hug.
When she looked up, a massive shadow filled the doorway.
Thick forearms crossed over his chest. Njáll stood there, tall and imposing. He took one tentative step forward, the firelight highlighting the dark smudges under his eyes and the pronounced lines around his mouth.
His haggard appearance told the story of a warrior who had carried an immense burden for the last moon. Ash coated her mouth as her arms dropped from her father’s neck, all her attention now focused on Njáll.
Bloodshot eyes stared at her, the silver fire missing from them.
Instead, a hollow, exhausted shell blinked beneath the two-toned irises. A clean tunic stretched across his muscled chest, his hair clean and freshly braided.
Even so, a cloud hovered over him like a dark shroud, devouring all the things she loved about him.
“Njáll,” her father murmured, rising from the bed. “I will leave you two.”
“Bóndi,” Njáll said, bowing his head.
A tight smile pinched her father’s cheeks as he slipped out, leaving them alone.
No words fell from Njáll. He crossed the room in two strides, falling to his knees beside the bed. His large, scarred hands reached for her. Callused fingers burrowed into the hair at her nape, his grip borderline bruising as he examined her in silence.
“Little flame,” he finally choked out, his voice harsh. “I thought… I thought you were gone. That you wouldn’t find your way back. You are here.”
The coarse hair of his beard bounced under her fingertips. A soft groan rumbled in his chest as she scraped a trail along his jaw, a tired smile dimpling the creases around her eyes.
“I’m here. And so are you,” she whispered, dusting her lips over his cheek.
“Why?” he rasped, his eyes so full of hurt. “How could you ask that of me, Elara? I watched the light leave your eyes. I watched your eyes close for what I believed was the last time. Why did you stop me from following you? You had no right to command me to stay! Not when you were going to leave me!”
So much pain seeped from him, the harsh cut of it lacing his words.
Elara remembered wiping tears from his red-rimmed eyes as death came for her. She couldn’t fault him for his anger.
If their roles had been reversed, she would have slapped him by now for daring to stop her from being with him.
“I know, my love,” she whispered, pulling his head down until his ear rested on her chest. “I know I was selfish. But I needed you to live, Njáll.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding the weary, gorgeous demon who loved her enough to bring her back from the brink.
“What matters now is that we are here together. You can be angry with me in the morning, Jarl. For now, please hold me.”
“You know I cannot deny you,” he murmured into her navel.
