Chapter 33 #2
“I can keep them at bay,” Elara blurted, immediately regretting it. Leif tilted his head to the side, one brow arched. “I’ve been working with Hlif. It’s my fault the veil…”
“No. I will not allow it,” Njáll hissed, cutting her off. Two hands bracketed her face, his thumbs sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. “You are not to blame. Do you understand me?”
While his outrage on her behalf warmed her soul, it wasn’t based in fact. Elara’s grief had alerted the draugar to her presence. Now they followed her. She’d brought this torment to their doorstep.
And unless she mastered the skills Hlif taught her, they’d torment her until she broke, weakening the veil and allowing them through.
“Njáll,” she hissed, glaring at him.
“Elara,” he bit back.
“Enough,” Leif’s deep baritone commanded.
“Do not worry, dóttir mín, there is nothing to fear. Continue your studies with the Volva.” Her face must have revealed her lack of faith in her abilities, because Leif’s face softened, reminding her of her father.
“Even if the draugar come, they will not survive long on this plane. My wolf, my son, and our warriors will handle them.”
The tension squeezing her chest uncoiled, and Elara sucked in a deep breath, enjoying how the warm air expanded in her lungs. Water flecked in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped it away, smiling at the man who should have been terrifying.
“Thank you, Pabbi.”
A wide smile revealed pearlescent teeth, glittering like fangs in the firelight. Njáll’s eyes widened, darting between her and his father.
“You are going soft, úlfr,” Brielle said, grinning as she swatted at him.
Leif stiffened, his eyes darkening. A soft growl rumbled up his throat as he whispered in Brielle’s ear. Pink colored the tops of her cheeks, soon deepening to a brilliant crimson. Leif twirled a curl around his finger, smiling into Brielle’s fluttering pulse.
Njáll cleared his throat, already moving toward the exit, eager to leave.
“We’ll leave you two to your morning.”
Njáll offered his parents a curt nod, leading Elara back out into the main hall of the longhouse. The scent of freshly roasted meat filled the long hall, women weaving in and out with armfuls of linens and baskets overflowing with grain.
Njáll groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face before meeting her gaze.
“I have learned it’s best to leave my parents when they get into that state.”
The panic from moments ago pushed aside for the meantime, Elara giggled. Their love was infectious.
Granted, she understood why it made Njáll uncomfortable. Whenever her parents kissed around her, Elara quickly fled.
“Come,” Njáll said, all the authority of a jarl tinging his tone.
Mud stained Njáll’s boots, the earth still damp from the rain of the previous night. Each step rumbled under him, his grip on her hip grounding against the worry clawing at her navel.
Elara followed him along the well-worn path that gave way to a grassy knoll overlooking the still ocean waters below. The mist sprayed against her cheeks and Elara rocked into him, remembering their first breathless kiss.
He twined his fingers with hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips. All the weight she had tried so hard to ignore came rushing to the surface.
“What if I fail? What if people get hurt because of me?”
Njáll angled his body toward hers, the sun making shadows crawl over his back. For a moment, he looked like the demon she always accused him of being, darkness clinging to his scarred skin.
“People get hurt and die all the time. You cannot stop it, kona.”
A scowl twisted on her features, a furrow etching into the space between her brows. Her fingers curled around his forearms.
“That is not the comfort you think it is.”
Braids slid over his shoulders as he shook his head. A palm skated over her jaw, cradling her face.
“It is not meant to be. You cannot trick fate, Elara. Death comes for us all. Whether it is today, tomorrow or a hundred years from now. What is meant to pass will come. Hel would have found a way to get the draugar here with or without you. It was foretold in the stories of Ragnarok.”
None of that mattered.
Didn’t he understand?
That unfiltered light heated in her chest, responding to the swell of emotions, calling out for him, for the one that made her feel too much and not enough.
Hot tears tracked down her wind-burned cheeks, mingling with the salt on her skin. She slapped her hands against his shoulders, all her repressed emotions crashing down on her until she crumbled under the weight of it.
“You don’t understand,” she sobbed, staring up at him through wet lashes. “I shouldn’t be here. If I weren’t, you’d be safe, Jarl.”
Selfishly, she didn’t care about her—only him.
And it was his fault she cared.
She wasn’t supposed to.
None of this was supposed to happen.
“I should hate you! I offered myself to you to save my father. I wasn’t supposed to feel. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You… You… You stole my heart.”
For the first time, Njáll stumbled, struggling to form words. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks from her face, something between awe and sorrow glittering in the depths of his eyes.
“I should hate the demon who made me fall in love with him. I should, but I don’t. And I am terrified my love will be the thing that gets him killed. Jarl. Njáll. Loving me may be the thing that kills you. And I won’t survive it. I won’t. I can’t. I…”
She covered her face with her hands, trembling violently. Sobs racked her tiny frame, every breath squeezing from her lungs as if forced through a small tube.
Njáll ripped her hands away from her face, his grip unrelenting. Heat blazed in his eyes, flaring with an intense silver fire.
“Do not speak of hate and theft as if I regret it,” he growled, the rough timbre soothing. “You are right, little flame. I am a demon. A thief. I stole your heart and will never release it. It is the one thing I cannot give you, Elara.”
Silent sobs still rattled in her chest, the breeze blowing her curls behind her like a crimson cape.
Njáll pulled her into his embrace, holding her tight and shielding her from the wind. Hot breath fanned over the shell of her ear. Strong arms held her firm against him, her tears staining the silk of his tunic.
“Now that I have your heart, little flame, I cannot give it back. All I can offer you in return is my devotion. A promise to love you until my final breath.”