Freyja remainedsilent.
He cursed the goddess for binding him to such a brave, beautiful thing. He’d never be the same again.
A girl who only came up to his chin, yet with a will strong enough to tower over him.
Now, he had only himself to blame for the distance between them.
After last night, she was too exposed; he didn’t wish to burden her further.
This girl was his destiny and his destruction.
He could pretend all he wanted that it was nothing more than insidious magic drawing him to her. But the light illuminating the dark parts of his soul spoke otherwise.
Tortured souls bound by Hel and Loki sought her out. Freyja did not merely favor her.
She was chosen.
Like his father. Odin granted him the form of a mighty wolf to battle Fenrir at Ragnarök.
It was a blessing and a burden.
One this girl could scarcely understand.
She might not wield a blade, but she was as powerful as any warrior, bathed in Freyja’s grace. Whether she liked it or not, she had a part to play in whatever war brewed in the shadows.
And Freyja had seen fit to bring them together. Njáll might not have believed in love divined by the gods. But he did recognize some destinies were inevitable. It was more than magic or beauty or bravery.
Freyja brought them together.
Eventually, she’d understand, but for now, her anger glowed bright enough to incinerate him.
The tips of his fingers throbbed as he dug them into the railing.
The ship grated against the stone of a small jetty. The men cheered, a roaring din carrying across the sea.
Now was not the time for him to wallow in his burdens.
Njáll moved, slipping into the familiar mask of a jarl. He ordered his warriors, directing them to unload the substantial caches of silver, gold, and jewels they had collected.
Still, his gaze drifted to her—to her dangerous, alluring form.
Sunlight shimmered in her wild curls, highlighting the empty glaze in her eyes. Leather boots thudded against the deck until he reached her side, desperate to feel her soft skin under his fingertips as he brushed her hair over her shoulder.
“We’re home, little flame,” he said, the name a cautious plea for forgiveness.
“Home,” she murmured, her voice hollow. “Your home. My cage.”
The words sat like a stone in his belly. With a tight grimace, he palmed the small of her back, unable to ignore how touching her made his fingers tingle. Giving into the magic chaining him to her might have made him weak, but for some reason, he cared little.
“You will stay by my side. Do not speak. Trust me to handle this.”
She snorted, and his fingers flexed on her hip.
Passion, fury, and strength all brimmed in her resolute gaze.
His cock thickened in his trews.
Pebbled sand crunched beneath the attaché of warriors. His girl followed silently beside him, her eyes widening a little more with each step they took.
