He held her now. But it would not last. It couldn’t. Njáll would not have the luxury of protecting a foreigner plagued by visions. And Elara would not lower herself to consorting with the demon who pretended he was anything but.
Slowly, she turned in his arms, careful not to disturb him. The lines around his mouth and eyes were relaxed, the small bow of his lips somewhat endearing.
Jeweled braids lay over his face, framing his bearded jaw.
At the foot of the bed, Alruna curled at their feet. Her black coat shimmered with violet in the morning light.
Smooth beads brushed under her fingers as she dared to touch one of his braids, not surprised by how soft it was.
“Do you see her?” Elara asked, more musing to herself than anything.
Njáll’s gaze frequently drifted to the panther. It had to be more than a coincidence.
His chest rumbled, the resonant vibration humming in her ear. Instantly, his grip around her waist tightened, pulling her snug against him.
A short gasp hissed through her teeth.
On instinct, her hands slapped against the planes of his chest, trying and failing to push him away.
“Last night, I thought those golden glowing eyes may take me from this world,” he rasped.
The soothing baritone of his voice and their proximity made heat pool between her thighs. She stifled the whimper growing inside her, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Steady,” he purred, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a tenderness she didn’t know he possessed. “Does it frighten you that I see her?”
Teeth dug into the dry skin of her lower lip, making the coppery tang of blood flood her mouth. Too distracted by the indecent sensation at the crux of her thighs, she had almost forgotten about the question she’d asked, surprised he had heard it.
While she chose to show strength, many things terrified her.
Death. Loss. Grief. The draugar. The unknown.
All of it paled in comparison to this moment, when she had to face what she feared most of all—the inexplicable attraction to a man who brought nothing but death and devastation.
She drew circles in the space between her breasts before finally facing him and staring into those mismatched eyes.
Rough fingers caressed her jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of her cheek.
“Yes,” she whispered, the defeated sound leaving her before she could stop it.
The hand near her hip flexed, his fingers dimpling the skin beneath her shift, bunching the linen.
“Am I the only one who sees her?”
Lying seemed pointless. Despite his brutish nature, Njáll had proven himself perceptive. She didn’t doubt he already knew the answer.
“Besides me.”
A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the creaking of the ship. The fact he could see what no one else did was an omen she resisted deciphering.
Not wanting to know the answer.
He stared at her with an unhurried appreciation, making a frown appear on her face.
Njáll was a paradox. The lethality, the violence, all of it meant she shouldn’t be alive.
Yet, for some reason, he spared her.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispered.
