Chapter 23 #2
And then I cross my arms, mostly to conceal my hands, but it works in favor of an argument.
“Stop telling me what to do. I’m not a freaking pup, Nordin.
” I infuse my voice with such blistering heat that it stops the two males mid-undressing—Leif and Tyron.
“If I want to go visit the Glacier pack with Saga, I will.”
“I didn’t forbid the trip.” Nordin plays along magnificently. “All I said was that I’d tag along.”
“We don’t need a minder,” I say, stopping beside my pile of clothes. “They’re not brutes like the Ravines.”
His lids jump at the mention of the hateful pack. “Eira will never let you and Saga go alone,” Nordin says, coming to a stop beside me.
“Tyron and Leif could accompany us,” I say, which earns me a dagger-sharp glare from Nordin.
“If I’m not mistaken, Leif just ended things with my sister.” He glances toward Leif, who’s unbuttoning his pants. “I doubt he wants to take a trip with the two of you.”
“If you need us to go,” Leif says slowly, “we can take the girls.”
I can’t decide if Leif is a stand-up guy or if he’s acting considerate because Nordin is slated to take over the pack. A bit of both?
“Unnecessary. I have business there.”
When Tyron hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his breeches, Nordin steps between us, cutting off my view of both men. A corner of my mouth tucks up at his show of possessiveness.
“Why the Glacier pack?” I hear Tyron ask.
“To get out of this valley,” I say, my gaze on Nordin’s darkening blue stare.
“Didn’t have enough excitement last time you got out of this valley?” Tyron asks.
Nordin’s pupils all but slit at Tyron’s brash remark.
Before he can snap at his fellow shifter, I touch my wolf’s forearm, recalling his attention to remind him that I’m only playacting. “I’m after another form of excitement.”
“I’ll save you a trip if you come back to the sauna,” Tyron drawls.
I screw my lips to the side, not having expected that turn of events. “Thanks, but…but I promised Saga I’d meet her for supper, and I’m, uh, late.”
Nordin’s jaw tics so hard I worry he’ll pull a muscle. I try to calm him with my stare, but that doesn’t work.
He pivots, and although he doesn’t utter any words, I imagine he must communicate his thoughts on Tyron’s advances with a look, because Leif mumbles, “Come on, Ty.”
Once the door of the sauna swishes shut, Nordin spins back toward me, sporting a glower that might’ve made me shrink had I not grasped it was wrought from pure jealousy. “I’m going to have a word with my father about sending Gustafson to live in another valley.”
I lift my palms to his face to angle it toward me. The harsh lines of his jaw dig into my waxen skin. “That male’s all talk and no action.”
Nordin harrumphs, evidently not in agreement with me. Suddenly, his pupils shrink and his nostrils flare, and he twists his neck toward the hand I used to pleasure myself.
Our bodies are so close that I feel his sex hardening beneath his towel. When I start to pull my hand back, he clasps my wrist.
“Wait. Give me—Wait.” His speech is as disjointed as his erratic breathing. His lids begin to sink to half-mast as he runs his nose up and down the length of my finger.
My blood heats and beats as I stand there, all at once mesmerized and distressed by his absolute rapture. When he runs the tip of my finger against the seam of his closed lips, I weigh the commandment word for word, wondering whether we’re breaking it.
If anyone’s tainting the other at the moment, though, it’s me…the unripe body. Still, I should put some distance between us.
I’m about to when a feminine voice rings through the darkened antechamber. “Sorry to interrupt.”
I steal my hand out of Nordin’s, wondering how long Nika Krosson has been standing there and what she makes of Nordin painting his lips with my finger.
He suddenly twists his head and spits. “The splinter’s out. You should be more careful.”
And then he’s turning and stalking to his pile of clothes. Keeping his back to us, he gets dressed, his muscles roiling beneath his smooth skin so alluringly that it’s almost painful to turn away.
Yet I force my eyes off his body and back to Nika, whose green eyes are lapping at my wolf’s backside as though to commit the hue of his purple stripe to memory.
“If you came for the sauna, I’ll warn you that you’ll have company,” I tell her.
“I didn’t come for the sauna; I came for Nordin. Saga mentioned he might still be here.”
I hear his leather pants whisper up his legs. “What can I help you with, Nika?”
“Your father is kindly loaning me a pit house, but I need help getting the cot inside. Could you give me a hand?”
I hate everything about that sentence.
I hate that her visit has become a full-blown move.
I hate that she’s coming to Nordin for help.
I hate that she wants him to handle her cot.
I long for him to tell her to ask someone else for assistance, but I know he won’t. He’s too affable.
As he punches his arms through his coat sleeves, he finally turns and gives my towel-cloaked body a cursory once-over, the preternatural glow snuffed out of his irises.
“Best get dressed before the other two come out.” His tone is as flat as his expression.
He is unattainable Nordin Stormsson again.
The male I can look at but not touch.
The male I can dream about but not rouse next to.
He stalks toward Nika. Although I’m fully aware that he isn’t leaving me for her, my body nevertheless tautens with jealousy. When a low growl rumbles from his throat, I frown. Before I can ask what’s going on, he’s stalking past her.
“What happened?” My heart discharges a series of heavy beats as I wait, with bated breath, for Nika’s answer.
“You have visitors.”
I picture the Sons of Odin swirling over our valley, their beasts igniting the midnight sky with flames. “Vampyrs?”
She shakes her head and steps out into the darkness.
“Who?” I shrill.
She turns toward me and sounds a name that ices my insides.