A flash of terror must have shown on her face, because Njáll moved to her side too quickly for her to stop him. Slowly, he reached out, his hands bracketing her narrow waist, the touch warm even as she longed to want to pull away.
“Look at me, little flame,” he commanded, the pet name—which now felt like a chain—soft on his tongue. “No harm will come to you. You are under my protection.”
His thumbs rubbed slow, soothing circles over her ribs, the kindness of the gesture more infuriating than comforting. Nothing was real about Njáll or what he did. He tried to calm her as one would a skittish mare.
“Under your protection, as what? Your pet? Your prize? Your totem?”
Labored breaths shook her chest; her gaze locked on his.
“No.”
“Then as what?” she snapped, slapping her palms into his frustratingly muscled chest and hissing at the sting radiating across her skin.
“As mine,” he snarled.
“I belong only to me,” she growled back, glowering at him. “I’m not your anything, Jarl.”
Something in her voice spurred him on, the hand on her hip drifting to her chin. His thumb and forefinger held her in place, the grip claiming, but not painful. Dark, glittering desire flooded his eyes, turning the grey one molten silver and the other a lush, mossy dew.
“Are you certain?” he whispered, a dangerous caress traveling over the column of her throat. “Because the seiðr you control me with says many things. It demands I worship you like a goddess, little flame.”
She snorted. As if she had any power over him.
“You cannot call me a creature one moment and a goddess the next. You are maddening and speak in riddles.”
His tongue dug into the points of his teeth with a smile. When he started to speak, a banging sound thumped on the tanned hide, ripping through the fragile tension in the room.
“Jarl,” a lilting, accented voice boomed. “The inlet is in sight. We need your command.”
All at once, Njáll faded into the bloodied leader she’d seen the day he brought her here. His posture turned rigid. His focus shifted away from her, staring unseeingly over her shoulder.
Only a moment ago, his eyes shone with an intimate glow. It unnerved her.
Now, they were hard, as unfeeling as slate.
She used the renewed distance to catch her breath, clutching her throat. Linen bounced under her fingertips as she smoothed out her shift, trying to distract herself.
“Coming,” Njáll said, the sound resolute as he clasped his fur cloak over one shoulder.
As he made to leave, he paused with a hand still clutched around the hide.
“Stay here. I will return before we make landfall.”
“I hate you,” she hissed.
“I know, little flame.”
A slow breath strained his chest under his tunic. Braids slid over his shoulders as he moved, his broad back disappearing. The hide slapped against the wood, and Elara wasted no time in following him out onto the deck.
Goddesses didn’t take orders. Only pets did.
Until he decided which she was, she’d do as she wished.
Stepping outside, a strong breeze stung her face, carrying with it the scent of pine and salt. Sea spray splashed her cheeks, cooling her overheated skin. The ship hummed with activity. Men shouted from their positions at the oars while others moved about the deck, securing barrels and provisions with swathes of rope.
Njáll stood near the front, a hand resting on the hilt of his axe. A hulking, red-bearded warrior hugged Njáll’s right side, nodding as he spoke.
As Elara moved into the open, a shadow detached itself from the bustle, approaching her.
