Chapter 7
Seven
Elara
An unfamiliar weight tightened around her abdomen, something rough gently caressing the wool above her navel. She lay tucked into a vast expanse of furs with a heat not her own.
The scent of rain-soaked wool, charred wood, and something distinctly masculine flooded her senses.
The Dane.
Njáll.
His name rushed back to her from the blur of last night.
Blood rushed in her ears as her eyes slowly fluttered open.
Pale light flittered through the gaps in the wood, casting a beam across a massive body curved along her back. Her fingers twitched above the thick ones draped across her waist, tempted to trace the scars on his knuckles.
Scruff rubbed her cheek where she sat molded under his jaw, tucked perfectly into his body. The closeness comforted her, even if she wanted to pretend it didn’t. Njáll cloaked her in a possessive warmth, making her stomach do a traitorous flip.
The memories of last night came back in a dizzying rush, cutting through the quietude. Icy flashes of the draugars’ suffocating presence made her tremble, the chill of their scarred voices never far off.
Acid splashed the back of her throat, remembering how she clung to him, begging him to stay.
Shame turned her face a deep crimson. Elara promised herself not to give in to the demon, no matter how alluring he was.
This man had torn her world apart. Separated her from her father and had enough blood on his hands to stain his soul.
Yet, he had offered to be her demon, to take her sins as his own. The promise did terrible things to the ache between her thighs, making it worse.
An unfamiliar feeling crawled up her body, flushing the back of her neck and making her stomach cramp. At her most vulnerable, she had found comfort and sanctuary with a demon.
Or maybe a fallen angel.
It was a horrifying betrayal.
A betrayal that tasted like ash and felt like home.
How could she forgive herself?
In a matter of days, she was becoming someone she didn’t recognize. Someone who succumbed to strong arms and scarred muscles. She had never been swayed by superficial things.
Until now.
She held her breath, not wanting to wake him up. Unfortunately, she enjoyed the rhythmic hum of his heart. She wanted to avoid disrupting the tentative peace stretched between them.
And selfishly, she wanted a moment where she didn’t have to feel so alone.
Dried tears still surrounded her eyes. The room might have been quiet, but she still heard the phantom whispers of the draugar from the night before. She pictured her curled form, rocking and sobbing as not even Alruna could keep them at bay.
Njáll must think her mad.
She wouldn’t blame him.
More than once, she’d assumed the haunting voices in the shadows would drive her to madness. They wanted to, weakening her defenses until only a shell of her remained.
A lump bobbed in her throat as she tried to swallow.
Maybe he’d decide she was no longer worth the trouble and would send her home.
The thought consoled and worried her.
He held her now. But it would not last. It couldn’t. Njáll would not have the luxury of protecting a foreigner plagued by visions. And Elara would not lower herself to consorting with the demon who pretended he was anything but.
Slowly, she turned in his arms, careful not to disturb him. The lines around his mouth and eyes were relaxed, the small bow of his lips somewhat endearing.
Jeweled braids lay over his face, framing his bearded jaw.
At the foot of the bed, Alruna curled at their feet. Her black coat shimmered with violet in the morning light.
Smooth beads brushed under her fingers as she dared to touch one of his braids, not surprised by how soft it was.
“Do you see her?” Elara asked, more musing to herself than anything.
Njáll’s gaze frequently drifted to the panther. It had to be more than a coincidence.
His chest rumbled, the resonant vibration humming in her ear. Instantly, his grip around her waist tightened, pulling her snug against him.
A short gasp hissed through her teeth.
On instinct, her hands slapped against the planes of his chest, trying and failing to push him away.
“Last night, I thought those golden glowing eyes may take me from this world,” he rasped.
The soothing baritone of his voice and their proximity made heat pool between her thighs. She stifled the whimper growing inside her, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Steady,” he purred, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a tenderness she didn’t know he possessed. “Does it frighten you that I see her?”
Teeth dug into the dry skin of her lower lip, making the coppery tang of blood flood her mouth. Too distracted by the indecent sensation at the crux of her thighs, she had almost forgotten about the question she’d asked, surprised he had heard it.
While she chose to show strength, many things terrified her.
Death. Loss. Grief. The draugar. The unknown.
All of it paled in comparison to this moment, when she had to face what she feared most of all—the inexplicable attraction to a man who brought nothing but death and devastation.
She drew circles in the space between her breasts before finally facing him and staring into those mismatched eyes.
Rough fingers caressed her jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of her cheek.
“Yes,” she whispered, the defeated sound leaving her before she could stop it.
The hand near her hip flexed, his fingers dimpling the skin beneath her shift, bunching the linen.
“Am I the only one who sees her?”
Lying seemed pointless. Despite his brutish nature, Njáll had proven himself perceptive. She didn’t doubt he already knew the answer.
“Besides me.”
A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the creaking of the ship. The fact he could see what no one else did was an omen she resisted deciphering.
Not wanting to know the answer.
He stared at her with an unhurried appreciation, making a frown appear on her face.
Njáll was a paradox. The lethality, the violence, all of it meant she shouldn’t be alive.
Yet, for some reason, he spared her.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispered.
Every muscle in his forearm went rigid, and his breath froze with a whistling inhale. A crushing stillness settled in the space between them.
Alruna vanished in a cloudy wisp.
Traitor.
Of course her friend would abandon her at this moment, leaving her to face the demon on her own.
Njáll exhaled, hot air brushing her clavicle. As he started to speak, she prepared herself for the rough, commanding growl that never came.
Instead, his deep timbre softened, as smooth as melted honey.
“When you first appeared, the decision to slice your throat was an easy one.” A shuddering sound hissed through her teeth, and he held her closer, resting his forehead against hers. “But you gazed at me without flinching. You refused to beg. I do not kill creatures I intend to keep.”
His words shattered the moment, splintering it like fractured ice.
A creature to leash. A pet to claim. A reminder of what she truly was to him.
“I am not a prized mare to be leashed and pranced around,” she hissed, annoyed by his impassive mask.
She scrambled to her feet, desperate to reclaim the distance.
The scent, the touch, the soft words—it had all been a trick to lull her, to weaken her to him. A demon indeed. No. She refused to willingly submit to him. To be treated as some plaything—some pet—for him to show off like a trophy from his conquests.
Cold floorboards stung her bare feet as she wobbled, unsteady after lying down for so long. The chill in the room grew worse without his toned form curled around her.
Something flashed in his eyes as he made to stand.
Softness slid under her fingers as she yanked the closest fur, bringing it to her chin like a barrier. She had to renew the distance between them, ignoring the excruciating longing that yearned for him to hold her again.
Heavy feet landed on the floor, Njáll straightening to his full, imposing height. His linen trews hugged his tree-trunk thighs, and her eyes blew wide at the bulge thickening between his legs.
A vein ticced in his neck as he crossed his massive forearms, his eyes narrowed and his breathing shallow.
“And what of you, witch? You talk of leashes when it is you who shackles me!” he growled, his deep voice rumbling louder with each word.
Elara faltered, staring at him wide-eyed.
“Are you mad? I don’t see any irons around your feet.”
With the fur still clutched in one hand, she gestured wildly with the other. The man must have had too much ale. As if she could ever control him.
Snarling, he ate up the distance between them in three long strides. She swallowed, refusing to cower under the intimidating figure crowding her. His nose twitched as his palm landed on the wall beside her face, making her flinch.
Strands of dark hair fell between his eyes as he leaned closer, his face a breath away from hers.
“You’ve changed me. Made me weak! Whatever corruption you’ve infected me with, release it.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Seiekona. You have slid into every fiber of my being, bending to your will until all I crave is you, little flame.”
His nails dug into her skin, pinching her chin and holding her in place as his warm breath puffed over her face like he was some sort of irritated dragon.
Oh, how she wished she possessed whatever magic he thought she did. None of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be here.
“If I could control your mind, your thoughts, do you not think I would have used it when you threatened my father?” The grip on her chin loosened, his hand falling away as his brow furrowed.
“Do you really think if I had that power, I would have offered myself to a monster like you? That I would have let myself be chained to you?”
Her cheeks grew hot as she glared at him, her head tipped back.
Colors swam in his eyes, making the silver and hazel sharper. The hard lines around his mouth and eyes faded, his lips softening.
“I didn’t intend to make you feel chained,” he whispered. “I only wanted to find you. To protect you.”