Chapter 14
Fourteen
Elara
Moonlight glittered off his torso, highlighting the marks of battle woven into his skin. The dancing lights floated between the stars, their colors casting a violet glow over the valley.
The moist sea air did nothing to cool the flush stinging her face. Her fingers caressed his forearms, staring into the depths of his gaze while his words weighed her down like iron.
He promised her victory and Valhalla in the same breath. While her heartbeat turned frantic, his hummed steadily with a confidence she admired. Even if it did nothing to soothe the worry coursing through her like wildfire.
Anticipatory grief struck her like a bolt of lightning, the sear now a familiar pain. It thickened in her throat until she choked on it, her eyes watering.
Onyx mist swirled at her feet, gold eyes glimmering in the darkness.
Then, the draugar came, their voices insistent—demanding her attention. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a happy feeling or a warm thought. She ambled through the shadows, flashes of golden water illuminated by a faint glow.
Njáll’s deep, accented voice sheared through the darkness, tugging her back to the surface.
“Kona?” he whispered, holding her face firm.
Kona.
The colorful lights strewn across the sky pulsed against her eyelids as they fluttered open. Alruna’s wispy tail curled around her calf before vanishing, taking the draugar with her.
Something between a sigh and a moan slid over her lips. Njáll stared at her with desire and unbridled adoration. It reminded her of the way her father gazed at her mother.
How the Konungr deferred to his Dróttning.
Njáll carried a heavy burden, one too insurmountable to face alone. And he shouldn’t have to. Elara wanted to carry it with him. He claimed her in front of the entire clan, marking her as his.
Part of her really wanted to do the same. To peel away the few residual fears that haunted her, the last few reservations, but she couldn’t.
As much as she craved to be as certain as he was. A niggling thread of doubt lodged itself in her abdomen, refusing to let go.
For someone as young as she was, she had faced more death than others. And the idea of letting herself feel fully for someone whose death loomed above them an ominous cloud made her stomach twist with nausea.
For Njáll, it was merely a part of who he was. Of his life. He never questioned it. Never feared it.
Death and duty intertwined.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to mimic the stoic acceptance that Njáll had. When her throat bobbed, it only left her mouth drier. She hated many things about Njáll, his indifference to death now top among them.
To not be plagued by grief and loss was a dream she couldn’t fathom. Eventually, she looked up, not sure how long she had spent staring at the ground, lost in her thoughts.
An emotion she didn’t recognize glimmered in his gaze, reflecting the lights illuminating the star-strewn sky. Her mother had once called them fairy lights, glittering gems awakening when two lovers came together.
Her muscles relaxed, and she offered him a soft smile, acquiescing to his demand not to mourn what hadn’t come to pass.
There was still so much life left to live. Elara couldn’t enjoy it if she focused on what hadn’t happened. She had spent the last year grieving, and now she was determined to live the life promised to her.
She still felt out of place. A foreign person in a foreign place with foreign powers she didn’t understand. But for one fleeting moment, she could exist without burdens. Exist with a man who stared at her as if she were all the stars in the sky.
“Brave, girl. My little flame could be nothing less.”
He stepped back, a guttural sound hissing through his teeth as he gazed at her from under hooded eyes. The warmth of his touch on her throat left her, even as his other hand made to map her freckles with his thumb.
“Please, tell me your name, little flame,” he said, his voice thick with his desperate plea. “Let me speak it, and know you are completely mine. I would lay my soul at your feet for a taste of it on my tongue.”
Deep down she wanted to tell him, to see how her name sounded when spoken in an accented rumble.
She squashed the feeling down, and all the indecent thoughts that came with it. The little voice inside her revolted, demanding she tell the gorgeous Dane her name.
“What would you do with my name?”
The question escaped her with more confidence than she felt. Dark glints flashed in his eyes as he crowded her jeweled braids framing his sun-tanned skin.
“Worship it.”
The sinful promise burrowed into the depths of her soul, igniting the hate that still lingered there. Sweat coated her palms, and she rubbed them over her dress, ignoring how her heart thumped against her ribs.
Something propelled her forward. Something she had as much control over as her visions. She pressed a palm against his chest, and she swore he moaned.
“If you wish to worship me, you must earn it.”
She had no idea why those words rolled off her tongue, and by the time she realized it, it was too late to take them back.
Not that she would. Not when the muscles in his body flexed at her challenge.
“Oh, little flame,” he purred, covering her hand with his. “I’d battle to the last breath to be worthy of devoting myself to you. What would you have me do to deem me worthy?”
The harsh demand of his request made shivers dance down her spine, and an ache throb at her apex.
When she didn’t respond, a wolfish grin curled at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he lowered a leg to the ground, followed by the other until he knelt before her. The ground seemed to shake under her, her ears ringing as she stared at the warrior on his knees.
For her.
He blinked, the motion slow and unhurried as his rough hand skated up the backs of her thighs. His gaze never broke hers, and she was transfixed on him, unable to do anything but watch this jarl submit himself to her.
An unbidden moan hummed in her chest. His mouth parted in a silent laugh. She enjoyed the dangerous rush of heat flooding her abdomen, but this was madness.
Nails dug into the mottled skin near a large scar on his biceps, running below the gold cuff.
“Njáll. Enough of this. Get up.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, and it stirred something behind her sternum. The mirth in his eyes shifted, darkening until only desire remained.
Slowly, he rose, tracing his callused hands along the dips and curves of her body. The low growl in his timbre echoed in the hushed wind, rippling over the cliff.
“If you deny me your name,” he stepped closer, his hot breath misting the air between them, “then allow me the pleasure of tasting the tart wine from your berry-stained lips.”
Energy seared through her limbs, his patient stare sparkling as the last threads of her restraint uncoiled. Dark braids framed his sharp jaw. Piece by piece, the last of her defenses shattered, and she dragged her fingertips through his beard.
“Do jarls usually beg?” she asked, her confidence fleeting as the panting whisper left her.
Njáll flashed her a brilliant, unguarded smile, taking her hand in his and bringing her palm to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss into her palm, making a whimper catch on her next breath.
“Only for you, little flame.” His teeth grazed over the thin skin he had caressed, and her knees buckled.
“I’d kneel at your altar and worship you however you demanded.
Your name, your touch, your quiet presence in my furs.
I would take all your sins as my own. I would become your demon, if that’s what you require. ”
The surrender in his tone made her chest tighten. She didn’t understand what she had done to earn such devotion from him. It hit with all the force of a summer storm. Words failed her as she opened her mouth, only for nothing to come out.
This wasn’t the arrogant, commanding Jarl who had led her through the woods on a rope leash.
No, this was a warrior offering his soul to his queen. Her tongue licked her chapped lips, sounds finally falling from her.
“You’re a sinful demon,” she breathed, her body trembling.
Except it wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t anger.
It was something else entirely.
Something she’d never recover from.
Callused fingers ghosted along her face and she almost fell to her knees, willing to submit to her demon.
“I take pride in knowing I’m your favorite sin,” he murmured, coiling a crimson curl around his finger. “Will you allow it? Will you allow me a taste of you?”
The air crackled between them with the spark of their mounting desire reaching a breaking point. She teetered on a precipice, one she wanted to spread her arms wide and fall into.
“Please,” she whined, the high-pitched sound unfamiliar.
“Oh, little flame,” he purred, running his thumb across the swell of her lip. “You never have to beg me.”
Unspoken desire made her thighs slick as the inevitable happened. The explosive force of it mimicked a mountain breaking apart. Njáll palmed her nape, dragging her into the solid expanse of his taut form.
Her nipples tightened, sensitive as they brushed against the rigid muscles. She moaned, the soft sound muffled when his lips found hers. Fingers tangled in the curls at the base of her skull, urging her closer until their bodies were fused.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was demanding, coaxing, and everything she expected of the warrior claiming her.
Dewy evening air hit her nose first, followed by the crisp woodsy scent of Njáll. He tasted of honey and berries as his tongue swept a tantalizing trail between the seam of her lips.
With the hand not buried in her hair, he grasped her waist, holding her still. It was not some sweet thing, the touch demanding and consuming. Her body went lax in his hold, a hazy cloud settling the constant whirr of her mind.
Nails dug into the chiseled planes of his sculpted shoulders, scrambling for purchase as he devoured her. Her mouth parted on its own, allowing his tongue to brush against hers.
Each press of his lips stole more of her breath until she was left gasping and needy for more.
It stirred a primal feeling that left her wet and whimpering.
A violent, overwhelming urge tightened in her belly, igniting a roaring blaze. It consumed her. That fire wove with the pulse of her soul, snapping something into place, something that tethered her to this moment, to Njáll.
A hungry moan clawed at her ribs like a beast begging to break free. Her arms shot up, wrapping around his neck, pulling his heavy body impossibly closer. She matched the ferocity of his lips against hers, pouring all her buried emotions into the kiss.
All the ones she’d hidden beneath layers of grief and despair. Ones she thought she’d never have.
His cock twitched against her stomach, and a raspy growl vibrated her lips. His hands dropped to the curve of her ass, digging his nails into the supple flesh.
Elara ground into Njáll’s length, whimpering as hot tears stung her eyes, feeling too much and not enough all at once.
Breathless, he finally tore away, grazing his teeth along her jaw. His forehead fell against hers, his hands nearly spanning the entire width of her waist.
“Mine,” he growled, the possessive vow thrumming in the rapid thump of her heart. “My flame. I vow to Freyja to honor and worship you until my dying breath. You own my heart and my blade.”
She trembled, her arms stretched and wrapped around his nape.
“You speak of forever when you cannot promise it.”
“Oh, but I can,” he whispered, lifting her until her legs automatically tangled around his waist. He stole another brief, bruising kiss, nipping at her swollen lower lip.
“Not even Valhalla could keep me away from you. Should I die before you, little flame, your demon will crawl through the veil to return to you.”
A steady thrum pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She didn’t doubt the truth in his words, that he’d comb through the depths of Hell to find her once more, and that pleased her more than it should.
Even if it frightened her.
“And what if I die before you?”
“Then I’d follow. What would this life be without the flame that ignites my spirit?”
She choked on a breath, her hands cupping his cheeks.
“What of your people? Your duty?”
“You will always come first. A good Konungr cannot serve his people if he doesn’t serve his queen.”
Not wanting him to see her tears, she buried her face in his neck, inhaling the faint scent of cedar and leather. His chest rumbled with something close to a purr as he carried her through the deserted village.
Her tears dried quickly, cocooned in his hold. The wooden door groaned shut behind them, sealing them in the familiar comfort of his home. A chill cut through the dim space, the final dredges of the fire crumbling in the pit.
Soft furs cradled her aching muscles as Njáll gently lowered her into the nest of blankets. He removed his cloak, pausing as his fingers lingered on the hem of her woolen dress.
She dipped her chin, and Njáll gently removed the heavy material, leaving her in her linen shift.
He knelt beside the bed, the veins in his arms flexing as he rested them on either side of her face. Braids slipped over his shoulders, and she lifted a trembling hand, reaching for the coarse confines of his beard.
He caught her wrist, stroking her pulse point before pressing her palm against his scarred chest, right above the steady thump of his heart.
“Wait here,” he said, the deep command making her entire body coil with unrelieved tension.
He rose, tossing thick logs into the fire with ease.
Tall flames roared to life, sending sparks sputtering into the air.
Shadows crawled along his back as he slid into the furs beside her. A massive palm splayed over her stomach, positioning her in the crook of his body. He tucked her head beneath his chin, tangling his legs with hers.
The pads of her fingers bounced over her lips, the memory of his kiss etched there. She melted into his hold, the possessiveness of it making her feel safe for the first time in as long as she could remember.
With one hand, she entwined her fingers with his over her navel, tracing the scars on his knuckles. The other slipped the rune dangling from the leather cord around her neck, tracing the groove marks.
The room was blissfully silent, save for the sounds from the fire.
The draugar did not whisper, not daring to intrude. Njáll rested his mouth on top of her head, murmuring unintelligible Norse words that lulled her into a blissfully dreamless sleep.