Page 80 of White Raven

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Onyx snarled at me.

Holding my head high, biting against the misery wanting to claim me, “I’m going to bed. That all right with you?” Every word lashing against my teeth. “My lord and master.”

Onyx’s dark eyes blazed, his jaw ticking.

Not waiting for his answer, I stomped to where he’d set down the saddle next to the tree, using it as a pillow, my cloak a blanket.

A thunderous laugh burst over the site, Bjørn choking on his drink. A low growl rumbled in response from the Northerner, egging on the big man’s howls.

“I like her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bjørn,” Brynn gritted, which seemed to only encourage him.

“What’s wrong, Brynn . . . feeling a bit territorial? Or jealous maybe?”

“Dra til helvete.” She got up, marching the opposite way to her bedroll.

Renyx stood up, throwing his cup into the fire and glaring at Bjørn before moving to another area around the fire.

“Was it something I said?” Bjørn called after them.

“You really are an asshole,” Onyx muttered, standing up. “And you just volunteered yourself for night watch.”

Bjørn shrugged, taking another long swig from his flask.

“Sven, stay up with him.” Onyx ordered.

“Yes, Hersir.”

Onyx turned away from them.

“Just gonna get this out there first.” Bjørn lifted the flask to his mouth, his tone serious. He waited for Onyx to look back at him. “You’re fucked, Sjef. What’s interesting is, you know it but won’t let yourself acknowledge it.”

Onyx stared at him before snapping back around and striding for me.

I slammed my lids closed, pretending to be asleep, aware of every move he made as he settled down next to me.

Rolling on my side, I curled into a tight ball against the chill, the threads of light struggling to stay lit in the sky. I could already feel the darkness slithering in, wrapping around me and taking me prisoner.

The suspended time in no-man’s-land had popped, and there was no stable ground underneath me. The twilight reflected my last breaths of freedom, before the night took me under.

Before, my life was no longer mine, but another king’s to dictate.

“No, stop . . .” The cry made my eyes spring open, a deep moan coming from behind me. The stillness of the night, the rhythmic sounds of slumber coming from the camp, suggested it was deep into the night hours. Bjørn’s loud snoring echoed, his chin tucked to his chest, still sitting up. Sven was passed out next to him.

“No!” Onyx’s body restlessly stirred behind mine.

I twisted round, seeing his expression pinched, utter agony striking across it, lost in his nightmare.

“Please no!” he whined. “Móðir . . .”

“Onyx?” I reached out to touch him. “Hey⁠—”

My spine slammed into the dirt, his body covering mine, a blade at my throat. A growl heaved from him, his nostrils widening, his blade primed against my neck, his eyes hazed with dream.

Terror burned in my veins, gulping against the sudden attack, his heavy body pinning mine to the ground, stealing my air. He blinked, his irises clearing, coming back to himself. I didn’t move or speak, frozen against him.

His gaze dropped down to my breasts, watching them move under him while his blade nicked my skin, trickling blood from my healing tattoo. Terror rushed a thrill into my system, pounding my heart, making me feel every molecule of the air, every crackle of the dying fire. A wildness lingered in the air, a recklessness where ration and logic were tipping on the edge.