She loathed how the first thing she did was look for the handsome man who had brought her here.
When she didn’t see him, ash coated her tongue.
Heat throbbed between her thighs. The thin line between hate and desire flared in her apex.
She had never been controlled by something as frivolous as attractive men. Granted, no one back home looked like him. Cords of thick muscle curled around his massive arms, slabs of granite defining his toned stomach.
Scars bisected his torso, marking his skin. He was as dangerous as he was gorgeous.
“Stop it,” she hissed under her breath.
He and his people brought only death and destruction.
Wood planks creaked under her steps as she made her way to the railing, waiting for someone to press a blade to her throat and shove her back into her makeshift cell.
Except it never came.
Curious gazes followed her, but no one moved.
Sunlight gleamed off the surface of the crystalline water. Foam glittered like precious stones atop the surface, making a tight smile push against her cheeks.
Cedar and salt air filled her lungs, the aroma unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It was pretty. She would have appreciated it much more if the colors hadn’t started to blur as her vision clouded.
The world spun as her feet stayed rooted to the spot. Knuckles whitened on the splintered wood as she leaned over the edge, her stomach emptying its meager contents into the ocean below.
Acid swam in her belly, the bitter taste lingering on her tongue as a pitiful sob puffed past her cheeks.
Tremors shook her hands while the rail dug into her abdomen. Cold sweat clung to nape, beading over her collarbone.
After a series of painful heaves, a woodsy warmth crawled up her spine, soothing some of the trembling.
Knuckles feathered over her shoulder as a hand pushed her sweaty hair to one side. A traitorous ache grew at the base of her spine at the tender touch.
Whispers tickled the tiny hairs on her neck, the scent of the Dane undeniable this close.
Part of her wished to lean into his touch, to relax for the first time in a year.
As if sensing her softening resolve, a large palm spread over her waist, low enough to avoid being indecent, but high enough to make her villainous nipples pebble.
No. No. No.
“It is not easy. Most struggle. My first time at sea, I could barely stand. I have something to help. Then food.”
The silken lull of his voice was too soft this close. Too warm. Too gentle. It threatened to melt the last of her resolve. She refused. Refused to let something as primal as taut muscles and a sharp jawline weaken her.
Gathering her strength, she spun to face him, slapping his hand away.
Light twinkled on the gold cuffs curled around his biceps. Since the last time she saw him, he had cleaned the blood and dirt away from his chest, revealing more lines of muscle embellished with scars under the fur draped across his shoulder.
Damn him.
A warrior with a long braid leaned against a barrel, watching them with barely restrained amusement flitting in his eyes.
While he might have been the most brazen, Elara was keenly aware of others watching them—listening.
Now more than ever, she couldn’t be seen as weak.
“Don’t touch me. Why do you care if I’m sick or not?”
