Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Njáll
Dried blood clung to the cut on his shoulder. Njáll hissed, pressing a salve to the wound. It had been many seasons since his father had injured him during a training bout—long before he claimed the title of Jarl.
All morning, Njáll had been distracted. A fact his Konungr both lamented publicly and scolded privately.
Sweat slicked down his back, hair sticking to his nape as he recovered, watching Erik and Bjorn clash blades.
In the days since Elara returned to him, she continued to impress him.
A weight had been lifted. Whatever had plagued her previously drifted to the background. She didn’t worry about her place among the clan—or him—or fixate on the words of the Volva, which now seemed so long ago.
For now, they were content to focus on each other and forget the outside world. Even if it was only for a few days.
This morning, she’d awoken from dreamless sleep, gorgeously sleep-mused.
Those jade eyes glared at him when he made her flush a pretty shade of pink. She’d taken her fill of him that morning, raking her gaze over his exposed torso as he dressed.
When he’d commented on how her lush thighs pressed together, she hissed, tossing a feathered pillow at his head.
Venom fell from her, commanding him to leave for training.
Though her body told a different story. Crimson crawled up the delicate column of her throat, staining the swells of her breasts and her cheeks. Her lips parted with labored breaths, and the musk of her sweet arousal thickened in the room.
As much as it pained him, Njáll left, heeding her orders, his cock hard and aching between his legs.
His little flame needed to catch fire as much as he did. She was strung as taut as a bowstring, and he craved to free her from her burdens on his tongue.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Njáll groaned, pulling the salve away to wrap his injury. His father towered over him, his glacial eyes gleaming with the remnants of his wolf.
Despite the hard lines around his mouth, his lips quirked.
“Go home, Jarl. See to your pretty kona before you get yourself maimed.”
“Are you dismissing me, Konungr?”
“For today.”
Njáll nodded, one side of his mouth lifting at the low chuckle vibrating in his father’s chest as he returned to their assembled warriors.
After fastening the last bit of the linen bandage in place, Njáll shrugged on his tunic, ignoring the slight sting in his upper arm with the motion.
He strode through the village, his face hard as women whispered gossip in his wake. They murmured about the foreign girl who’d stolen their Jarl’s heart.
Children chased dogs, dust kicking up under their feet. Their bright, tinkling laughter showed off gap-toothed smiles, making his chest swell.
An image of his kona, round and heavy with their child, flashed before him. His cock twitched, and a quiet groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He imagined a daughter, fierce in will and soft in grace, like Elara.
Or a son, fearsome and devoted like him.
Soon, his feet paused at the ashy fire pit outside his dwelling.
The door to their home was ajar, and Njáll slunk in unnoticed, content to observe Elara. The fabric of his tunic stretched as he crossed his thick forearms, leaning against the wall.
Sunlight spilled from the smoke hole, illuminating her in an iridescent glow. Her hair shone like fresh flames, cascading freely down her back. A simple shift hugged her curves, showing off her ample hips.
The tip of his tongue licked across his teeth.
Steam billowed from the metal basin by the fire. Sweat dotted her nape as she pushed her mane to one side.
Unable to resist her, Njáll took three long strides, sliding his palms along her hips and nuzzling into her neck from behind.
A gasp hissed through her teeth. She spun, the surprise on her features twisting into displeasure. His cock jumped, making her glower more pronounced as she slapped his chest.
“Njáll! How is someone as large as you so deathly quiet? You cannot sneak up on me like that.”
“Training,” he chuckled. “Forgive me, kona. Did I interrupt your bath?”
Streaks of pink colored the swell of her cheeks. She attempted to quickly hide her fluster, narrowing her eyes at him instead.
“What are you doing back so early? Are you alright?”
“Fine,” he grunted when her shoulder rolled into the bandaged wound.
Her ire shifted to concern, and it was dangerous how much Njáll enjoyed it—her fussing over him. She gently prodded the raised bandage under his tunic, her lips turning down at the corners.
That, however, he did not enjoy. His thumb brushed away the worried creases framing her pale, plush lips.
“Do not fear, Elara,” he said, savoring the tang of her name on his tongue. A breath caught in her chest, but he continued. “I am unharmed. Only a scratch. It will not scar. Come, let us bathe. I fear I have intruded on yours.”
The pink on her cheeks flared into an intense shade of scarlet, her throat bobbing.
Gods.
Something about his kona being shy undid him. He tugged at the ties of his tunic, loosening the collar.
“Us? Together?” she asked, pointed teeth gnawing on her lower lip.
“Say yes,” he moaned, nipping at her ear. “Do not send me away, little flame.”
Tiny fingers splayed over his torso, her nails bunching the material. Without answering him, she tugged the tunic off him, letting it pool in a puddle at their feet. His cock strained his trews as her hungry gaze took her fill of him.
A harsh noise itched his throat as Njáll trailed a hand along her thigh, his fingers closing around the hem of her shift. The soft linen rubbed between his fingers; a silent question posed in the dark rings pulsing in his eyes.
Her chin dipped, the permission shredding through the last of his restraint. Saliva coated his tongue as he peeled her shift from her, exposing all of her.
A strangled sound rasped from him, his chest heaving.
For a long pause, she held his stare, gooseflesh prickling her unblemished skin. His hands stayed anchored on the jut of her hips, afraid if he moved them, he’d be unable to stop himself.
And he wanted to relish this moment, drink her in until the image of her was etched into his mind for eternity.
Freckles dotted her arms, accentuated by a brilliant blush flaring there. Her breasts shuddered with a nervous laugh, her nipples pebbling into stiff peaks Njáll wanted to circle with his tongue.
“A beauty fit for the gods,” he growled, yanking at his trews when her hands stopped him.
With a smile that reached her eyes, she pushed his trews down his thighs, squeaking when his hard cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. He kicked away the wool, and her hands wandered, squeezing his muscled ass.
“Does it please you, kona?”
“Yes. You’re very… pleasing,” she breathed, and Njáll laughed.
“We’re to be bathing, Elara.”
The reminder was more for him than her, his body on the verge of destruction. Before she could respond, he lifted her into the washbasin. Njáll slid in beside her, water sloshing over the sides.
He spread his thighs, tucking her between his legs with her back against his chest. With the herbal soap in his hand, he lathered it onto the linen cloth, massaging it over her soft skin.
She released the sweetest little groan, her head falling back onto his shoulder, lashes fluttering.
Despite her relaxed demeanor, the muscles in her body were taut with coiled tension.
The Volva’s words carried an immense burden. One he planned to shoulder with her. Never again would she have to suffer alone.
Her strength. Her beauty. Her tenacity.
It was singular. She was singular. A rare jewel tucked away in the most unexpected of places. She was everything he dreamed about in a kona. And the gods graced him with her.
Leaning back, he rested his forearms along the edge of the basin, avoiding getting his wrappings wet.
Freyja didn’t make her who she was. No, Elara’s strength drew Freyja to her. A woman born from grief and purpose.
They were two sides of the same coin.
“Tell me of your mother.” She stiffened but relaxed quickly. “She must have been brave to feast in Fólkvangr with Freyja.”
A sigh that almost sounded happy loosened all the tension coiled in her limbs. Her fingers drew circles on his thighs under the water, sending a shiver through his limbs.
“My father fell in love with her after watching her tame a wild stallion. She struggled to sit still, always doing something on the farm or gathering flowers from the valley to make it smell sweet in our home. I wish she was here. But it makes me happy knowing she’s at peace… somewhere.”
The backs of his knuckles ghosted down her arm, and he smirked at the tiny shiver coursing through her.
“You’ve inherited her spirit. I’ll say a prayer to Freyja so your mother knows how thankful I am for you.”
A soft giggle escaped her, the noise fleeting.
“I miss her,” she whispered, the declaration more to herself than to him.
Njáll hummed, gently caressing the tops of her shoulders peeking above the water’s surface. While he was still blessed with both his parents, he had seen the toll of loss, the gnawing ache it left in its wake.
Lips pressed to her temple, smiling into the kiss.
“You are never without her. For Fólkvangr is everywhere and nowhere. Wherever you are, her essence follows.”
Her shoulders fell from the pinched position by her ears as she melted into him. A hand reached behind her, and she cupped his face.
“I like that.”
Sparks sizzled in the fire, and Njáll brought her palm to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the thin skin of her wrist.
A twinkling laugh rolled from her, her hips wiggling, and sending more blood south.
She turned to face him, taking the nearby soap and cloth, slowly dragging it over his chest. Knuckles whitened as he clenched the basin, restraining himself. Her tender care drove him mad.
The somber tone dissipated with the steam, and her hot center pulsed over his length.
“What happened?” she asked, eyeing the bandages as she rinsed away the suds.
Shifting, he grunted, not wishing to replay his failures in front of his kona. Her hand dipped under the rippling water, her ministrations moving dangerously close to a place they could not come back from.
“Careful, little flame,” he growled, a muscle in his jaw ticcing.
A wolfish smile slid over her lips, the soapy cloth resting on his pelvis. She crawled until she straddled him, her lips a breath away from his. He longed to mark her creamy skin, to see it dimple under his fingertips while he bruised her thighs with his mouth.
“Then maybe you should tell me how you got injured.”
He snorted, curling his fingers around her throat and stroking the skin.
“You barter better than a jarl.”
Her hand drifted, skimming the head of his cock, making him groan.
“Fine. You relentless creature. The Konungr proved why I must not be distracted when faced with his axe.”
Fingers bounced over her supple lips, a small furrow in her brow.
“Why were you distracted?”
Of course, she failed to comprehend how besotted he was. How disarming she was.
“You. All morning, I envisioned you, snuggled in our furs. I have ached for you, Elara. Now turn,” he ordered, grabbing the linen cloth from her fingers. “Let me tend to my kona as you have to me.”
When she didn’t move fast enough, Njáll gripped her waist, spinning her as he worked the soapy cloth into her shoulders.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of m—”
“Enough,” he said, cutting her off. “Do not apologize. My failures are my own. I will not make that mistake again. Not when my pretty flame waits for me.”
His teeth grazed the thin skin along the column of her throat. When his path trailed to the valley between her breasts and down to her navel, her breath quickened, her back arching.
“In here, it is only you and me, little flame. Allow me to dull your mind until all you have to do is feel.”
Something between a moan and a sigh escaped her, the sound delightful. He brought the cloth higher, brushing the underside of her breasts before swirling at her pink nipples. A breathy whine hissed through the quiet.
Njáll’s free hand clutched her waist, dimpling the skin as the veins in his hands flexed.
“You wish to torture me wish those pretty noises,” he mumbled, kissing the column of her throat as his fingers brushed the thatch of kempt curls above her sex.
“More,” she breathed, her eyes glazed.
“More what?” he purred, flicking his tongue over her pulse. “Tell me what you want, Elara.”
“You. All of you.”
The weight of the moment hung in the air. It wasn’t a request fueled by the whispers of desire.
Rather, something commanding, her seier calling to him, threading with the bond in his chest that was hers alone.
And she would have it. All of it belonged to her.
Inky black eclipsed the swirls of green in her eyes as her hand dipped under the steaming water, encircling his cock. A growl slipped through his teeth, and his kona breathed a soft laugh.
His massive hand collared her slender throat, his thumb tipping her head back. Her lips parted with a shuddering breath.
“Then all of me you shall have. Set me aflame, Elara.”