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Leif’s gaze snapped to him, and he let a low, warning growl slip through his teeth.
“You are,” Ragnar insisted, chin tipping back to show his throat, and the flashing silver torq that encircled it. Submissive, but not willing to keep quiet. “Men spend every day of their lives trying to become as strong, as fast, perceptive as us. We can see farther, and hear more keenly, and we cansmellwhen someone’s lying to us. All the training in the kingdom can’t make up for the gift we’ve been given – and it is that. A gift. You think of it as a curse, and so you won’t use it to your best advantage. You were already one of the most promising young warriors in the realm, Leif; if you embraced your wolf, you’d be unbeatable.
“Do you know how many men would kill to be in your position? You’re young, golden, built like an ox and the heir to a kingdom. And you can transform into a wolf at will! There are hundreds of scrawny, spotty-faced lads out there who’d give their right arms to be you. And yet there you sit, pouting and being miserable. Wishing away the gods’ blessings.”
“Blessings.”
“Aye. I said what I said, and I’mright.”
“The responsibility of an entire kingdom is ablessingto you?”
“It is for anyone born in a cave,” Ragnar snapped in return. “Or a tent. For someone who lies down every night on a scrap of old, mildewed blanket, his belly empty, his boots full of holes. You’ve never gone hungry.” A growl edged his words, now, and his pupils had narrowed to slits. “You’ve never wondered how you’ll last through winter, or if your family loves you. You’ve never–” He bit off the last, growl tailing into a frustrated whine. His breathing had picked up, and he opened his hands, flexed them in a way that seemed to be self-soothing.
It was these days rare that Ragnar was the one fighting his anger, and Leif sitting calmly in attendance, so he took a moment to savor it. Then, in icy tones, he said, “Is this your sad attempt to earn my sympathy?”
Ragnar growled again – and Leif silenced him with a growl of his own.
“You arrived at the Yule Festival upon my uncle’s invitation. You entered the hall of his palace as his guest – broke bread at his table. And all the while, you were scheming, setting up your man to kill my brother.”
“I–”
“I amnot finished. You stood by while your man was executed, letting him take the fall for a plot that was solely yours. You traveled north with us, had your allies harry us the entire way, and then bundled us off to be eaten by cannibals.
“When we survived all of that, you attacked our camp, turned me into the fucking beast that I am today, and raced your way south to assist in the attempted sacking of our home. If you expect me to feel sorry for your rough, clannish upbringing, you’re even stupider than I thought.”
Ragnar’s mouth plucked sideways. “There’s no need to list my treacheries. I know what I’ve done.”
“And still you challenge me, at every turn, until I wonder why I don’t pin you down to the chopping block, take your head, and be done with it.”
“Then why don’t you?”
Leif bared his teeth rather than answer.
Silence reigned a moment – a silence in which Leif knew that he failed to project any sort of threat, just as Ragnar failed to wallow in contrition. A silence that Ragnar broke, because he was feeling far too comfortable these days (because Leif had grown far too lenient, and, in his weakest moments, something like fond).
“I wasn’t trying to inspire sympathy forme,” he grumbled. “There’s plenty of pathetic young wretches in this kingdom you ought to feel sorry for, instead of feeling sorry for yourself.”
Leif sent him a sharp look.
“I’m trying to help you,” Ragnar said, lip curling. “Not that you’re grateful for it. And I am telling you the truth. If you keep on in this way, pretending you haven’t changed, then you’ll never sleep, you’ll stay miserable, and you’ll end up either taking the head off a messenger, or throwing one of your mother’s maids over a table.”
Gods damn the man, how had he noticed that?
In answer to Leif’s glare, he tapped the end of his own nose. “You stink worse than a stag in rut. Do yourself, and everyone else a favor, and find a willing woman to bed. Honestly, that will drive you crazier than a lack of sleep.”
When Leif didn’t respond, he shrugged, and then laid back down, hands linked over his stomach this time. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. You’re doingso wellon your own.” He closed his eyes, took a deep, agitated breath, and from all outward appearances dropped into sleep without effort.
Leif worked his jaw a moment, willing the tension out of his shoulders, trying to relax muscles that had gone tense and knotted during their conversation.
Would it help? Finding a harlot to bed; shifting to his four-legged form and going out with the rest of the pack to hunt in the afternoons? He didn’t go with them, despite their requests and their dejected looks. Bound by his torq, Ragnar was unable to shift, and so Leif had taken to staying behind to monitor him. He might not be able to shift, but he could still bash someone over the head for his purse, or steal a horse, or steal someone’s wife. Thievery, rape, murder, and all manner of human crimes were still available to him, and he didn’t dare ask Erik, Rune, or even Bjorn to watch him in his absence.
You could put him back in his cell, reason intoned at the back of his mind.Put his manacles back on and lock him behind a sturdy door of bars.
He shuddered at the thought. A wolf didn’t belong in a cage.
And a collar didn’t belong around his throat.
Frustrated, the insides of his cheeks bitten raw from all the tooth-grinding, he let out a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back against the hard boards of the wall. He was the alpha, damn it; could he not also command himself?
