Silver fire blazed in his eyes, making one look like molten mercury and the other like a forest dappled in sunlight.
“Stubborn is such a harsh word, Jarl,” she purred, her lips curving into a smug smile that made a growl lodge in his throat. “I prefer discerning. Perhaps you haven’t given me anything that I find pretty enough to wear yet.”
A lie that he saw right through. He had seen the glimmer in her eyes and the awe in her voice when her fingers slid through the luxurious swaths of silk and blown glass jewels.
The hand on her hip moved higher, his long fingers splaying over her ribs as he yanked her closer. Narrowed eyes raked over her, pausing at her lips and then her breasts before darting back to meet her gaze.
Blush burned her cheeks and chest. She groaned, annoyed that her traitorous thighs clenched, making a wolfish, knowing look settle into his features.
Knuckles curled under her chin, his mouth close enough to hers that she craved to steal his taste from his lips.
“Why must you stir me so? I swear you take pleasure in it.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Óþekkr,” he growled.
She had heard that term from time to time. Usually when mothers scolded their naughty children.
Faster than she believed possible for someone so large, Njáll reached out. Strong hands gripped her waist, lifting her with a sudden, effortless motion that made her gasp. He tossed her over his shoulder, positioning her so that her head lay on his back.
“Njáll!” she shrieked, pounding on him to no avail. “Put me down. This is embarrassing.”
“No.”
A palm landed hard on her backside and she hissed. The sting dissipated quickly, but it made the ache between her thighs worsen. She hated that he was winning. He had an unfair advantage, teasing her like this.
She huffed, resignedly melting over his broad shoulder, refusing to look at the people watching them.
Laughter followed them. Elara glowered, swatting him again.
“Demon.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go, little flame.”
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed open the door to their dwelling, ignoring her playful protests. He tossed her gently onto the furs, her hair fanning around her like a bloody halo.
Something savage and depraved flickered in the recesses of his eyes.
Before she could sit up, he tore her dress and shift from her, leaving the material in tatters on the floor. The cool air hit her flushed skin and her nipples tightened, her breath turning slow and expectant.
“Wait here, pretty kona,” he ordered, stealing another look at her naked form before crouching in front of a chest.
Warmth slithered around her spine, her belly taut and her center aching and fluttering with anticipation.
A leather pouch sat in his palm, sensual heat blazing like a setting sun in his irises.
Elara squirmed, her bare form exposed to him while he remained dressed. Fingers dipped into the leather and he withdrew a necklace—a thick, braided leather cord strung with beads of jade and polished green glass.
Callused fingertips seared over her skin as he draped the cord around her throat, the cool leather a shock on her warmed flesh. He traced the glass beads with a rough finger before tugging the leather lightly, drawing her closer.
A breathless whine rattled in her throat, her eyes wide as she swallowed.
“I want you to come for me adorned in only my jewels, kona,” he growled, his voice thick with unspent need.
The command made her thighs slick. An insistent pull tugged behind her navel. She reached up, wrapping her fingers around his neck and pulling his face down toward her.
“Is that so?” she whispered, the words not nearly as confident as she hoped.
