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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 it’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.
Clouds gather over our heads and we’re standing before a highway and it feels like I’m standing before on edge, like I’m on the verge of something new and thrilling. I take a deep breath, whispering,
“Is this tight enough?”
2.
Iversen
Not nearly tight enough. Her hands are weak and frail, small and so different from mine that I can barely feel them on my shoulders. She’s too scared to touch me, too proper and too brainwashed with laws and rules that she shivers. This is the first time she’s ever riding with a man, first time she’s ever this close to one. She’s trying not to pant, constricting her breath in her little throat while doing her best to play unbothered.
She fails, letting out a loud gasp when I grab her wrists and wrap them around my waist. When she squirms, I feel a flash of anxiety, thinking she’ll try to get down again but to my relief she stays. “Closer,” I rasp and she carefully nudges nearer. “Closer,” I insist and my eyes flutter when she pushes forward, her legs resting against mine, her chest brushing against my back and this is bliss times ten.
I want to save this moment, carve it into every part of me with a dagger to make sure it’s never lost.
A muscle ticks in my jaw because I didn’t foresee how difficult this would be. Taking the little mob princess for a drive seemed easy in theory but in practice...it’s a different story. I didn’t count on how warm she’d be or her intoxicating labdanum and geranium scent.
