Chapter 11 #3
The quick change in topic sent a jolt to the base of Elara’s spine. She was a lot, but not too much. Elara enjoyed her eagerness and unbothered nature. It was refreshing after spending so much time with her regimented brother.
“Thank you. They are lovely.”
“Not lovely enough. Tell Njáll to spoil you more. People will talk if he doesn’t.”
“I don’t need more things.”
Unconsciously, Elara’s hand slipped into her pocket, her fingers gliding along the smooth surface of Njáll’s rune. These were the only gifts she wanted.
Jewels and silks were inconsequential.
“You are good for him. I will see you at the feast tomorrow.”
Elara glanced back at the training grounds, disappointed to see them nearly empty.
The pad of her thumb continued to stroke the etched lines on the stone as she retraced her steps back to Njáll’s house.
A hopeful feeling fluttered in her stomach, looking forward to the feast Astra mentioned. According to Njáll, it was a huge celebration with dancing, songs, food, ale, and stories. It reminded her of the harvest festival her village used to have each year before the frost.
It had been a long time since she had looked forward to anything.
Her fingers rested on the weathered wood of the door, taking a deep breath.
“Oh, God,” she shrieked, freezing at the threshold, knowing she should look away but unable to.
Njáll stood flawlessly naked by the washbasin, his tanned skin illuminated by the amber light of the hearth. Loose strands of dark hair spilled down his scarred back, free from its usual restraints. Beads of sweat followed the lines of muscles, coating his body in a thin, glistening sheen.
Despite the sight, Elara could not look away from where his cock hung heavy between his legs, half-hard and thick.
Steam from the bath coiled around him, giving him the appearance of a god emerging from the mist.
That infuriatingly desperate, singing desire coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she might pass out from it.
Her clit throbbed and her core clenched around nothing, and some feral noise trilled in the back of her throat.
A smug smile greeted her as she finally dared to meet his gaze. He did nothing to hide himself, instead watching her stare at him as he stepped into the steaming basin.
Water sloshed against the sides as he settled into the tub, his broad shoulders resting on the rim.
He lifted one hand, idly flicking the surface; droplets of water caught the firelight like scattered jewels.
She lied.
He was a demon—a gorgeous, delicious, tempting one.
“Little flame. Do you wish to stare or do you wish to share my bath?” he said, all command and confidence.
“What?”
He shifted, and more water spilled over the edges, splashing on the floor.
A dangerous gleam glowed in his eyes as he crooked two fingers, beckoning her closer. Her eyes narrowed, and his smirk widened.
Slowly, she ambled across the room, her rebellious feet moving of their own accord. She crossed her arms, pushing up her breasts as she glowered at him, letting her silence speak for her.
“When you look at me like that, my cock aches.”
And when you look at me as though you’d devour me, I catch fire.
“I’m not bathing with you, Njáll,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.
“Your mouth says no, but your eyes burn with need. Did watching me train unravel you?”
Water sluiced off his shoulders, leaving him looking positively debauched.
A pink tongue darted out as she forced her eyes to stay focused on his face. And not the hard length of him bobbing beneath the surface.
“So pretty when you’re flustered,” he chuckled. “Some day, little flame, you will join me in this bath, and I will cleanse your soul with my tongue.”
Unintelligible noises muddled in her throat as her entire body flushed at his filthy words. Then, a moan parted her lips, the sound hungry and so unlike her.
“You are unfair,” she whispered, the sound breathless and wanting.
“Not unfair,” he whispered, his voice a sensual purr unraveling the last dredges of her self control. “Determined. If you will not share my bath, then perhaps you will bless me with your name? Or shall you remain my flame and nothing more for all eternity?”
A wide, predatory grin slid into place. She had the upper hand against him. Njáll raised a brow, leaning into the side of the basin, his wet hair dripping over the sides of the tub.
A challenge ignited in the depths of his eyes. One Elara wanted to meet. She knelt beside the basin, reveling in how Njáll tracked the movement. Their faces were a hair’s breadth apart, hot air swirling between them.
His eyes darted to her lips and back to her eyes, a muscle in his jaw ticcing as his fingers clung to the side of the tub. Elara rolled her lower lip between her teeth, and a feral sound rumbled in Njáll’s chest.
Smirking, she reached out, gently scraping her nails through the scruff lining his sharp jaw.
A deep growl vibrated between them at her touch, and she leaned in closer, her hot breath fanning over the shell of his ear as she whispered.
“Do you think yourself worthy of my name, Jarl?”