Chapter 36
Ilet myself into Nordin’s home, my pulse pounding out of alignment from the hard stares I garnered during my brisk walk. As I shut the door, I jump out of my skin.
A chuckle echoes through the balmy air. One that comes from the direction of the copper tub that seems far too small for the likes of the male sprawled in it.
“You’re home?” I say, out of breath.
“Just got back.”
“How did the meeting go?”
“It went well.” He rolls his neck. “Planning on staying on my doorstep?”
I blink from his steam-glossed face to the muscled arm draped around the side of the tub. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”
“I wasn’t planning on a long soak. Just long enough to rid myself of the cloying stench of Alpha egos before I came to see you. Now that you’re here, though, I’m reconsidering our no clothes off rule.” He leaves the invitation hanging there.
“Can’t believe you kissed me earlier,” I blurt out, not quite knowing what to do now.
“Are you angry that I did?”
“Confused. I thought you didn’t want anyone to find out.”
“I’m about to go to war for the pack.” A curl of steam rises off the surface of the bathwater and ribbons around his face and the topknot coiled at his crown.
“Which led me to decide I didn’t care for their opinion.
” His brows gather. “I figured you’d be on board, but from the way you’re biting your lip, I’m guessing that’s not the case. ”
I release my lip. “It’s not that. It’s just… You caught me off guard.”
His brow smooths.
“People are talking,” I say.
“I’ve no doubt we’ll be the subject of many conversations for a while, but like everything else, the novelty of us will fade.” He holds out his hand. “Come here.”
I glance from his tub to his extended fingers a couple of times, then twist around to bolt the door and go to him. Does my gaze stray over him? Yes. He is mine to look at, after all.
“There’s room for two,” he says, gliding his fingers around my thigh until he’s cupping my ass.
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
He draws me closer. “Which you would need, why?”
“Because my clothes would be drenched if I got inside your tub.”
He looks up at me, his fingers splaying over the entirety of my backside now. “Why in the three realms would you stay dressed?”
“To help you avoid temptation.” I frown. “Unless war has made you reconsider fooling around? Has everyone agreed to it?”
“Agreed to us fooling around?”
I heft up an eyebrow. “Obviously not. There’s just a lot happening in my head right now.”
“I can tell.” His lips kink. “Get in the bath, and I’ll give you an in-depth briefing on the last few hours.”
I contemplate his offer for a minute…and then a minute longer before easing my arm out of the sling and looping the fabric over my head. Keeping my injured wrist steady, I undo my belt.
Water whooshes. My fingers trip off the leather knot as Nordin unfurls his immense body until he’s standing before me, foam sluicing down the grid of his abs before getting caught on the dark hairs cloaking his thickening manhood.
He unfastens the leather, releases it, then plucks my gloves one finger at a time. As he casts them aside, I ball my fingers, letting one hand drop to my side while keeping the other elevated.
“Never be ashamed of your burns around me. They’re part of your life story and a testament to your survival, Zaskja Stormsson.”
Perhaps someday I’ll wear my scars with pride, but not tonight.
Pressing his stare against mine, he tows my brown wool overdress up my body, pulling it off one arm before clasping my bent elbow to help guide my bad wrist out of the sleeve.
My linen sheath comes off next, leaving me standing in only my knickers and a band of fabric Mor bound around my breasts this morning.
A tug loosens the band. As it falls to the floor, Nordin’s breath hitches, and that veiny cock of his swells some more.
He caresses the underside of my unconstrained breasts, then the marked indents of my shrunken abdomen. “You’ve lost too much weight.”
I shrug. “You just haven’t seen me naked in a long while.”
“Zas, your belly’s fucking concave.”
“We’ve all been rationed. It’s nothing.”
“Your health is not nothing.”
“Can we not fight about this? Not now.”
He rolls his lips. “Fine. But you’re getting four square meals from now on.”
“Don’t you have a war to plan?” I ask, to take his mind off my figure.
“It’s fully planned.” He hooks the waistband of my knickers.
He doesn’t move for so long that I peer around us, then into his face. I’m expecting indecision, but that isn’t the emotion courting the corners of his mouth and eyes.
“You want this, right?” he murmurs. “You’re not feeling pressured?”
“I want this.” My lack of hesitation steels his spine. “Undress me, my Wolf.”
A soft rumble rises from his chest as he rids me of the last barrier of cloth. Once I stand in only my opal choker, he draws in a long breath and holds it…holds it…before finally letting it go free.
“Gods, you’re stunning,” he rasps.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I reply with a smile that kicks up a corner of his mouth.
He picks up my good hand and helps me step into the bath. As we sit facing one another, his brow pleats.
I herd water over the swells of my breasts. “Are you coming up with new rules?”
“No.” He spreads his knees wide to accommodate my legs, then seizes one of my feet and begins to knead my sole. “I’ll only end up breaking them.”
The unexpected massage feels nothing short of divine.
“So, anything goes?” I ribbon my nails up his calf, which is as wide as the thickest part of my thigh.
He and I were clearly not cast from the same mold.
His Adam’s apple jostles. “Anything you want.”
“You do realize that I want everything, Nordin?”
His pupils are so dilated they’ve obliterated the blue. Are mine as large?
The water churns as his hands climb up my legs to my hips. He leans forward, ropes my waist, then spins my body and situates it between his thighs. A soft groan hits my ear when my spine unspools against his ridged length.
I twist my head to look at him, wondering what he’ll do next.
He scoops the elbow of my bad arm and traces a line to my wrist. With utmost care, he lifts my arm and draws the small table closer—the one holding a bar of soap, a razor blade, and a neatly folded towel—then tugs the towel to the edge and gently sets my wrist atop it.
His eyes thin as he glares at the fading bruises. He doesn’t speak Tyron’s name, but it haunts his navy irises. When his molars grind, I walk my hand up his thigh to his bent knee, mapping the firm, coiled muscle.
“What now, my Wolf?” I whisper.
His throat clenches as he reaches out for the bar of soap, dips it, then lifts it to my collarbone. My breath hitches when he begins to paint my exposed skin in lather. The bubbly tracks cascade over the swells of my breasts, leaving behind goose bumps.
He dips the soap again. This time, his hand doesn’t reemerge.
This time, he sketches the underside of my breasts before growing bolder and dragging the chunk of lye over the globes of flesh.
“You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, stooping to press a kiss to my lips.
He slicks the bar down the center of my abdomen, ghosting it over my navel. I hold my breath when he reaches my mound. Will he stop and retrace his path back up my body, or will he—
A moan glides from my mouth into his. Not only does he not pause, but his pressure also increases as he crests my dark-blond curls and traces the narrow ravine between my folds.
I skate my mouth off his to catch my breath, then pillow my cheek against the hard knots of muscle in his chest, sinking my gaze into his hooded one. He sweeps the soap up, then back down, then back up.
For a moment, he holds it there, but then he begins to gyrate it right against that tiny bud that has given me pleasure so many times since I discovered it was there. The pressure of his touch is nothing short of divine, his tempo devastatingly perfect.
At my breathless whimper, his chest moves with a low, guttural sound that only heightens the tension coiled low in my belly.
Any qualm I might’ve had about climbing into his bath is gone, just like my sanity, just like my heart.
I lose myself completely, not to the sensations he’s coaxing from my core, but to the man pulling them from me.
The intoxicating press of his fingers breaks. I blink out of my daze.
He sits the lye bar beside my nesting wrist. “Swear that anything I do to you tonight won’t tarnish the image you have of me.”
I hate how hard he’s being on himself. “I’m a grown woman, Nord.”
“Swear it.” His hand settles on my stomach.
I tilt my head back. “I swear that I will never see you as anything less than the most perfect male on Midgard. The most perfect male for me.”
His midnight eyes turn star-bright as his shoulders curl and he slants his mouth over mine. After stealing another kiss, he settles back and inches his callused hand to where I need it the most.
When his thumb begins to caress, I can breathe again. My inhales are deep, but my exhales shallow. Soon my mind starts to sway, and my blood to whoosh.
“Look up,” he murmurs.
“Hmm.”
“Not at my face, Zas. Out the window.”
I crane my neck and fill my eyes with the ghostly splendor above. Ribbons of color crosshatch the sky, weaving a celestial tapestry far too beautiful for this world.
“The night I found you in the woods, the heavens were lit up with auroras. I was admiring them when the air stirred next to me, and then, there you were, painted in their ethereal light. I thought you were some apparition at first, but then you released a muted gasp that whitened the air. That’s when I understood you were real, for specters don’t have breath in their lungs. ”
Water ripples around his flexing arm, its liquid slurp competing with the crackle of dragon-fire and the nippiness of my breathing.
“I didn’t think much of it at the time. About finding you beneath an aurora. Or rather, I urged myself not to.”
“Why?” I croak.
“Have you never heard about the legend of auroras?”