A mask slid into place as Njáll shut down all emotion—drunk Bjorn more perceptive than the sober version.
Quietly, Erik observed them, his eyes shifting under his furrowed brow. Njáll’s throat scratched with a dry swallow. If there were any hint of Erik knowing the truth behind Njáll’s feelings for the girl, Astra would pry it from him in one night once they returned.
Still cradling his bruised face, Bjorn dipped his chin, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Forgiveness, Jarl. I did not mean any offense to your kona.”
Erik’s eyes widened, darting between the two men. While his kin meant the title in jest—mostly—it brewed a storm behind his sternum.
Kona. Hiskona.
The title suited his little flame.
Njáll palmed his nape, sweat coating his hand as he rolled his shoulders.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bjorn. She is not anyone’s kona. Go sleep off the ale, and then have the healer see to your face.”
“As you command, Jarl,” Bjorn purred with an exaggerated bow.
“Come on. Let us go before you end up with something broken.” Wood groaned with the waves, the ship rocking softly in the breeze. Erik paused, looking over his shoulder at Njáll. “I hope you know what you are doing, brother,” Erik said, the words quiet as he helped Bjorn to his bedroll.
Unfortunately, for the first time in his life, Njáll had no idea what he was doing.
It terrified him, almost as much as the pale, blood-haired beauty in his bed.
Unable to resist the pull any longer, his feet moved of their own accord until he found himself standing in front of the hide hiding his private quarters away from prying eyes.
His neck cracked as he rolled it. He moved the hide aside, his senses immediately assaulted by wildflowers and honey.
The sight of his empty furs made his stomach tumble. He hadn’t placed a guard, not planning on her attempting to flee. There was nowhere for her to go.
All the tension in his muscles melted away when he finally spotted her, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths. There in the corner on the floor, curled up with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, his girl slept.
Too stubborn to use his furs.
Something seized within him, disappointed he had caused her tears.
Tendrils of wispy smoke feathered around her feet, her familiar rousing from the candlelit shadows. As Njáll moved closer to the sleeping bundle, the panther stood, stretching out its long limbs, not threatened by his presence.
He wondered if the creature would rebuff his advances toward its mistress, but it did the opposite, moving aside to grant him access to the girl.
Njáll knelt, brushing a swathe of hair off her face, admiring the slope of her nose and the line of freckles speckling her skin like constellations.
“Who are you?”
“What are you to me?”went unsaid.
Aware of the shadowy eyes following him, Njáll carefully slid an arm under her knees and back, lifting her tiny frame as he rose. A mumbled sound of protest whimpered from her as she unknowingly curled into his embrace.
Something between a growl and a purr rasped in his chest at her touch.
If she’d been fully awake, she’d have shoved him away. He’d enjoy this moment while he could, drinking in her beauty. She grumbled more as he lowered her into his furs, her familiar returning to its post by her feet.
His callused palm caressed her face, her skin soft as he cupped her cheek.
“Shh, little flame. You’re safe. Both me and your familiar are here, warding off whatever plagues you.”
Njáll cared for little in this world beyond his family. Yet, this foreign girl with foreign powers had a claim over him.
