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“I’m your partner in all things.”
We shared a brief kiss that warmed me from the inside out. “Heaven yeah, you are.”
“Valhalla,” he corrected with a wink.
“Sure. That one.” I steadied myself with one palm braced on his big shoulder while I stepped up onto his hands.
I expected him to lift me up, just give me a boost. Instead, the Viking launched me into the evening sky. On instinct, I tucked into a ball as I flipped through the air, landing on two feet but stumbling as searing pain ripped through my gut. I was pretty proud of my landing, considering I hadn’t been prepared to bust out my inner gymnast, but I’d be willing to bet the Russian judge was less of a fan of my dismount. Also, how the hell had I done that without breaking a bone?
A heavy thud from right next to me pulled my attention to Alek, who’d landed on his feet as though he’d simply hopped off a counter.
“Showoff.”
“It takes practice.”
“You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”
He winked, then linked our fingers. “And you love it, Kærasta.”
Heat bloomed inside me, as it always did when he used the unfamiliar endearment. “What does that mean? You call me that sometimes but I don’t understand.”
Alek looked adorably shy. “It’s what my father calls my mother, and his father before him. The meaning has changed over time, but for us, it’s the equivalent of beloved, or sweetheart.” He reached out and tucked a piece of hair that had escaped from my bun back behind my ear. “We only ever use it when we find our fated mate.”
My heart swelled, pushing away the lingering pain in my belly from crossing the wards. “You’ve been calling me that for a while.”
His smile was slow but blinding. “The first time I said it, the word came out without permission. It took my head a while to recognize what my heart knew from the start. I should have realized it straight away. I never would have been able to heal you after that fight otherwise.”
“So what do I call you? Is there some special nickname I should have for my Novasgardian mate?”
“You could say ‘elskan mín’.”
“And what does that mean?”
“My love.”
I couldn’t stop the rapid fluttering in my ribcage at the tenderness in his voice. “Elskan mín.”
The pride shining in his eyes had me lifting up onto my toes and kissing him hard, my fingers working their way under his shirt so I could trace the raised edges of the runes running down his side.
“I really like the sound of that,” he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire before claiming my mouth again.
“What in God’s name do the two of you think you’re doing out here?”
Caleb’s angry Irish lilt hit me like the lash of a whip. Alek broke our kiss, putting a protective arm across my chest as we turned to face my confessor’s wrath.
“You. Mischief maker. What part of the fact that we’ve warded the surroundings did you not recollect?”
“I needed to access my magic,” Alek answered, as if it was the most justifiable reason there could be. Which I suppose for him, it was.
“And so you play fast and loose with the life of the woman you’ve sworn to protect? I expect these shenanigans from her and the others, but I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Hey,” I protested, but Caleb shut me up with an angry glare.
“Apparently not.” Alek crossed his arms, staring Caleb down. “But I assure you, she’s fine.”
Caleb’s gaze burned hot as he zeroed in on the tattoo peeking out from under my sleeve. It was cold outside, but being with Alek kept me warm enough my jacket was wrapped around my waist. Now I shivered, but was it because of the weather or because of Caleb?
Caleb’s hand shot out, and he grabbed me by the wrist, his favorite way to get my attention, it seemed. “My office. Now. You and I have something to settle.”
