Her interaction with the creature made it clear they were not strangers. The panther’s presence seemed to draw a quiet peace from her, even in the face of death.
A death he was to bring. A certainty now warred with him.
Duty demanded blood.
Blood he was no longer confident he could spill.
Not without blaspheming Freyja. He’d honor Odin in one breath and scorn Freyja with the other.
This had to have been the Seiðkona their Völva spoke of, and she willingly offered herself to him.
Waves lapped at the hull of the ship, pulling Njáll from his thoughts.
Braids spilled over his bare shoulders as he dipped his head in prayer to Freyja. The massive panther was her blessing. Freyja had given this girl an ancient gift she could scarcely understand.
As he continued to murmur to the goddess, the ocean stayed silent. A long, shuddering sigh rattled in his ribs.
Apparently, he’d be left to figure it out on his own, the gods offering him no answers.
One thing he knew was how breathtaking her bravery was. Even the memory of it made his cock thicken in his trews. The blaze in her eyes and the steadiness of her breath reminded him of the most seasoned warriors.
Something tugged at his navel with it, harkening back to the tales he heard from his mother about her and his father and how Freyja brought them together.
While he adored his mother and listened to her stories, Njáll never considered himself someone who believed in great loves granted by the gods. His parents were fiercely devoted to one another—something his sister Astra made doe eyes at—but Njáll questioned if it was truly Freyja’s guiding hand.
Maybe it was because he had never felt something so encompassing as his mother and Astra described.
He led without fear and fought with conviction. Never had he let pleas or tears sway him. But when his little flame offered him anything to spare her father and village, he couldn’t fight the warmth spiderwebbing through his body.
This girl was to be a Völva, not someone for Njáll to covet. Even if he enjoyed far too much watching beads of sweat trail down the delicate column of her slender throat.
His knuckles whitened as his fingers dug into the ship’s rail, veins pulsing in his hands. It was only beauty he told himself, refusing to acknowledge the heat licking up his spine at the mere memory of her.
The blood in his body tingled, recalling how she dug her dull little claws into him. And how he wanted to feel the drag of her nails across his skin again.
Next time, in pleasure, not anger.
To her face, he called her a prize, a boon bestowed upon him from Freyja.
But he feared it was much more than that.
Copper slid along his tongue as his teeth dug into his lip.
An unbidden growl rose in his throat, his carefully crafted control unraveling thread by thread. When he got home, he’d sink his cock into a slick cunt, and forget all about the girl who drove him mad, infesting his thoughts.
Starlight twinkled along the dark ocean waves. Njáll knocked his head back, sighing at the spray of the sea air on his skin.
His body ached in that delicious way it always did after a good battle. Fresh bruises colored a spot near his ribs, one of them most likely cracked given how a hiss of breath sent a shock straight to the spot.
A pleased groan rolled from him, imagining the steaming bath waiting for him when they arrived. The trip home would not take long—four or five turns of the sun, depending on the weather.
Each moment dragged into the next. Njáll stared out at the endless horizon. His warriors were settled with their ale and oars. There were no duties left to attend to.
Still, he fought against himself and the temptation daring him to return to his furs to find the pretty girl buried in them. His own desire poisoned him, making him doubt everything he had trained to be since he was old enough to hold an axe.
She would be his damnation, promising both utter destruction and exalted grace.
A pain throbbed in his jaw, his teeth grinding until they threatened to turn to dust.
