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He’s just a soldier. A mere soldier in the mob. But everything about him screams that he’s not supposed to be. He’s supposed to be more.
“We need to put the boat into the water,” Iversen says, defying my father and he’s got some guts. He glances at me, quickly and barely at all before him and three other soldiers light the boat on fire and push it into the sea. Their muscles splay under their skin and they’re all very burly but Iversen’s strength has nothing to do with his physique.
It’s his heart. And it’s an arctic one, strong as a diamond and I wonder what it would feel like in my hands.
I stare as the boat commotions over the waves and it’s starting to look like a bonfire. This is illegal. If law enforcement knew about this, they’d probably throw a hissy fit but we don’t really get involved with the law. They sort of just stay away, respecting us and above all fearing us.
My eyes follow the boat and the reality of it all dawns on me. My fiancé is dead. They say it was an accident. But I think he was murdered.
Iversen’s eyes meet mine and I hide a gasp. They cut through like a blade but it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. I try not to stare at his chest and his arms. He’s bare-chested, save from the fur of a polar bear that’s flung over his shoulders. How isn’t he cold? I’d be cold if the breeze kept lashing against my six-pack and my pecs.
He has a tattoo on the side of his torso but all men in the mob are tattooed with runes. Iversen though, only has one. A soldier is only allowed to have one. If he decided to start inking away it would be considered a grave offence.
An offence grave enough to get you killed.
The funeral’s coming to an end and I shiver when the wind whistles through the spruces and I’m so cold my teeth chatter. Tugging at my father’s worn coat, I whisper,
“I’d like to go home now, fádir.”
Dad looks to the boss who nods, giving his permission and dad and I turn around to leave when Iversen stops us. I gasp. Does he have a death wish today? He really doesn’t know his place. A soldier doesn’t just stop the underboss like that and my pulse races.
Lowering his head to be respectful, Iversen murmurs, “It’d be an honor to be the one to take your daughter home.” He’s not allowed to say my name. It’s why he keeps calling me my father’s daughter and my dad frowns.
The other young soldiers stir, exchanging glances and they don’t look too happy.
I wouldn’t be happy if I were they either.
They would all like to have a chance with me. My father’s slowly stepping down from his position as the underboss and another male will have to take his place. And the man who’s allowed to marry me will also be the one who earns the spot.
“Valkyrie?” my dad says and I gawk. Is he actually asking me for my opinion? And how come he’s willing to hand me over to a mere soldier? This is unusual but then again Iversen is pretty unusual. He sticks out in a crowd.
He’s definitely not a wallflower.
I’m too stunned to speak so I just nod, praying the cold wind will hurry up and cool my hot as coal cheeks. And I don’t dare to look at Iversen because he doesn’t just watch with his gaze, he...penetrates.
“I’ll allow it,” dad says and butterflies attack my insides. “Valkyrie, go with the soldier.”
Iversen nods and he waits for me to fall in line and then he marches in front of me. He’s not allowed to walk beside me, not without permission and he’s not allowed to talk to me either. I feel eyes burning me in the back and when I turn around, the four soldiers, the ones who helped Iversen push the boat into the water stare at us.
I don’t like their looks. They make shivers run down my spine and I hurry after Iversen.
He truly does walk like a fighter, like he has a single goal in his mind and won’t allow any distractions. His white fur thumps against his back and I want to reach out and touch it. Not that I would ever dare touch him. A girl like me doesn’t just touch men. Especially not men like Iversen. He’s so icy that I wouldn’t be surprised if his skin cut up my fingertips.
Still, it’s tempting. Tempting enough to make me want to risk a cut.
Following him like a lonesome puppy, I raise my brows in surprise when I notice we won’t be taking a car. Apparently Iversen gets ahead on a motorbike. But it’s not like the kind biker gangs drive around. It’s so extravagant and over the top with its black and metallic colors that it looks like it could turn into a Transformer any second.
Turning to me, Iversen jerks his head, letting me know I need to get up and I swallow. We’re going to be close. And it’s a long drive home.
“May I touch you?” Iversen rasps and I twitch, wrapping my coat tighter around my body.
“Why?”
He takes a step closer to me. “To help you up.” He nods, holding his hands out and there’s a neutral expression in his eyes as if he’s just being professional and then I feel his hands around me. Before I get a chance to react, I’m up on the bike and I get so excited I let out an embarrassing whimper.
“You’ll need to hold on tight.” Iversen gets up in front of me, his frame so big that’s impossible for me not to get squished. “Think you can do that?”
I can try and I murmur something incoherent, trying to ignore that I’m only a couple of inches away from rubbing up against him. Lifting my hands, I put them on his wide shoulders and I feel a rush of electricity through my arms.
