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I slowly raise my hands in the air and go very still, though I’m still sitting on her. “How so?”
“You tackled me like a linebacker. That’s hardly using your magic.” She narrows her eyes. “The whole point of this is what you can do that isn’t about muscles.”
Awareness spreads through my body, and I realize she’s right. I also realize how turned on I am by the fact that I’m straddling a beautiful woman, her dark hair spread out on the snow around her, while she holds a knife to my throat. She could kill me in an instant. As lethal as the Viking warriors of old, when men and women fought side by side. It reminds me of the battles I fought when I was such a warrior.
Something shifts in Astrid’s eyes, and then the next thing I know a ball of magic is hitting me in the side of the face. It stings like a motherfucker, and I fall sideways off of her. We tumble through the snow, magic flaring off us, light shooting into the trees, one of us on top, then the other.
After several moments we stop tussling and fall still. This time Astrid’s on top, but she’s landed in such a way that she’s sitting on my collarbone with her thighs on either side of my face. I can see every contour of her legs through her yoga pants. And just about every contour of something else. One of her hands is raised, another ball of magic palmed and ready.
The sight of Astrid nearly sitting on my face has me hard as a rock instantaneously.
“Do you surrender now?” she asks breathily, her chest heaving from our wrestling match.
“If I surrender, I have to leave,” I growl. “And I’m not leaving.”
I send a wave of magic against her, knocking her off me and into the snow again. We both spring to our feet and circle each other warily. Golden light glows in her palms, and silver light glows in mine. I try to get another shot off but she blocks me. She tries again as well, but this time I’m too quick.
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” I say, my eyes locked on her body, watching her shoulders for movement.
“We’re not even close,” she snarls.
Then she comes at me, rapid fire, hurling blast after blast of magic. I have no choice but to back up toward the trees. One or two of her spells get in past my shield, and they burn like hell. Even her eyes glow golden with power.
It’s the root that ends up doing me in. Buried in the snow, it catches the back of my ankle and flips me over on my back. Astrid looms over me. She opens her mouth—to say something sassy as hell, no doubt—but I don’t wait to hear her snark. I make a motion with my wrist and knock her off her feet with a blast of power. She stumbles forward and falls in the snow next to me, one leg across my lap. Both of her arms are outstretched, so she ends up with one hand on either side of my neck, her face hovering inches from mine. Her soft curls fall against my chest.
That’s when my inner dragon rumbles. This time in an entirely different way than the anger it felt when she slammed the door in my face earlier.
“Just give up,” Astrid gasps.
“I can’t do that.” My chest rises and falls from the exertion of tussling with this witch for nearly a quarter hour. We’ve spent a lot of energy, both physical and magical.
“I take back what I said about shifters,” she says. “Clearly you’ve practiced a lot. But you can’t beat me. And I can’t beat you, not without seriously injuring you.”
It’s hard not to watch her lips. She’s got snow all in her hair, and she somehow looks fierce and adorable both at the same time. I have the sudden urge to kiss her. Which is an absolutely terrible fucking idea…
“I can’t leave, not knowing the Guild is after you,” I say, holding her in the grip of my gaze. “Not if I ever want to sleep at night again. I just can’t.”
Astrid sighs. “You’re a real boy scout, you know that?”
“I’m a Viking, not a boy scout. And the Vikings revered their witches. It would be dishonorable to leave you.”
Something moves across her face, too quick to read. I push on while I have her off guard.
“If I admit that you won, will you quit fighting and let me stay? At least until we figure this out.”
“Those were not the terms of our deal,” she says warningly. Then she sighs again. “But maybe we can compromise.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Three days,” Astrid says. “You admit I beat you, and you get to stay no more than three days.”
I don’t even have to contemplate that. “Done. We have an accord.”
Astrid doesn’t move for a moment, still hovering over me. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Erik,” I say. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”
She finally pushes herself off me and we both climb to our feet. Astrid turns and walks away from me, and for a half moment I think she’s reconsidered. But when she reaches the front door to her house, she pauses and turns. Her hazel eyes rake over me.
“Alright, Erik the Viking,” she says. “You can come inside now.”
