Chapter 41
Forty-One
Elara
Aheavy arm lay draped around her waist. Njáll had stayed close to her, only leaving her to direct and assist his warriors in rebuilding the things that had been destroyed.
The longhouse stood proud once more, its timber walls freshly scarred but intact, patched with new cedar. Claw marks still marred the tapestries that clung to the walls, tatters of the torn material etched into the fibers of the wood.
Seven souls had left them that night and the Konungr honored them with a funeral pyre that had been more a glorious celebration of their lives than somber mourning.
Ash, bone, and splintered shields no longer littered the ground, but scorched circles singed the earth.
Elara doubted they’d ever fade completely.
Most chillingly, several dwellings remained dark, their doors shuttered, marked by the distinctive, deep gouges that no amount of repair could entirely erase.
With permission from their owners, Njáll planned to tear the dwellings down and build them anew.
Despite that, Elara was content.
Her father settled into the dwelling by the river, fishing daily and building fences for the livestock and horses he planned to acquire.
A widower with long silver hair visited him almost daily, and while he insisted her mother was the only woman he’d ever love, Elara hoped they could find some shared affection for each other.
In the time since the last moon, Elara had fully healed. There had been no signs of the draugar or their intrusions. Hlif believed the binds Elara wove that night created an impenetrable shield, strengthening the veil and protecting her.
Fingers danced along her jaw, making gooseflesh skitter down her arms. She looked up and met Njáll’s dark, lingering gaze. Gold cuffs encircled his bare biceps; the onyx bearskin fur draped over his left shoulder.
A rush of heat pooled low in her belly, an instinct more than a reaction. Njáll unraveled every thread of her, only to weave them back together into something totally consumed by him.
And she loved it.
Almost as much as she loved him.
“Is there a reason my kona insists on being stubborn and refusing to wear my jewels?” he asked, nuzzling her throat while he pinched her hip, keeping her close.
A smattering of giggles and hushed exchanges followed them as they maneuvered through the busiest section of the village. Teeth flashed in her smile. People deserved to see their Jarl besotted and soft.
It made him more than a myth.
Fingers trailed over her naked collarbone, remembering the stunning amber necklace that waited for her that morning after she finished her bath.
A bath that Njáll insisted on joining. A bath that took nearly twice as long.
The memory made a shiver shake her slim shoulders.
Truthfully, she adored being spoiled, enamored by all the pretty silks and glittering glass gems. The chests in their home overflowed with more golden trinkets and finely crafted garments than she could ever want or need.
But what she enjoyed even more was Njáll’s building frustration when she denied him the pleasure of seeing her in the things he gifted her.
She reached out, running a playful finger down the long scar that bisected his torso, following it to the thick band of muscle around his waist. Tantalizing lines disappeared beneath his trews and she licked her lips.
Silver fire blazed in his eyes, making one look like molten mercury and the other like a forest dappled in sunlight.
“Stubborn is such a harsh word, Jarl,” she purred, her lips curving into a smug smile that made a growl lodge in his throat. “I prefer discerning. Perhaps you haven’t given me anything that I find pretty enough to wear yet.”
A lie that he saw right through. He had seen the glimmer in her eyes and the awe in her voice when her fingers slid through the luxurious swaths of silk and blown glass jewels.
The hand on her hip moved higher, his long fingers splaying over her ribs as he yanked her closer. Narrowed eyes raked over her, pausing at her lips and then her breasts before darting back to meet her gaze.
Blush burned her cheeks and chest. She groaned, annoyed that her traitorous thighs clenched, making a wolfish, knowing look settle into his features.
Knuckles curled under her chin, his mouth close enough to hers that she craved to steal his taste from his lips.
“Why must you stir me so? I swear you take pleasure in it.”
“Maybe I do.”
“ótekkr,” he growled.
She had heard that term from time to time. Usually when mothers scolded their naughty children.
Faster than she believed possible for someone so large, Njáll reached out. Strong hands gripped her waist, lifting her with a sudden, effortless motion that made her gasp. He tossed her over his shoulder, positioning her so that her head lay on his back.
“Njáll!” she shrieked, pounding on him to no avail. “Put me down. This is embarrassing.”
“No.”
A palm landed hard on her backside and she hissed. The sting dissipated quickly, but it made the ache between her thighs worsen. She hated that he was winning. He had an unfair advantage, teasing her like this.
She huffed, resignedly melting over his broad shoulder, refusing to look at the people watching them.
Laughter followed them. Elara glowered, swatting him again.
“Demon.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go, little flame.”
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed open the door to their dwelling, ignoring her playful protests. He tossed her gently onto the furs, her hair fanning around her like a bloody halo.
Something savage and depraved flickered in the recesses of his eyes.
Before she could sit up, he tore her dress and shift from her, leaving the material in tatters on the floor. The cool air hit her flushed skin and her nipples tightened, her breath turning slow and expectant.
“Wait here, pretty kona,” he ordered, stealing another look at her naked form before crouching in front of a chest.
Warmth slithered around her spine, her belly taut and her center aching and fluttering with anticipation.
A leather pouch sat in his palm, sensual heat blazing like a setting sun in his irises.
Elara squirmed, her bare form exposed to him while he remained dressed. Fingers dipped into the leather and he withdrew a necklace—a thick, braided leather cord strung with beads of jade and polished green glass.
Callused fingertips seared over her skin as he draped the cord around her throat, the cool leather a shock on her warmed flesh. He traced the glass beads with a rough finger before tugging the leather lightly, drawing her closer.
A breathless whine rattled in her throat, her eyes wide as she swallowed.
“I want you to come for me adorned in only my jewels, kona,” he growled, his voice thick with unspent need.
The command made her thighs slick. An insistent pull tugged behind her navel. She reached up, wrapping her fingers around his neck and pulling his face down toward her.
“Is that so?” she whispered, the words not nearly as confident as she hoped.
He didn’t respond, only snarled.
In one swift motion, Njáll flipped her onto her belly, a thick arm sliding under her waist and urging her onto her hands and knees. Her wrists sank into the thick furs, her ass and sex completely exposed to him.
She moaned, undone by the silent dominance in his actions.
Njáll knelt behind her, his knees spreading her wider for him. She heard the thud of his fur and trews hitting the floor. She glanced over her shoulder, whimpering at the glorious sight of him naked, his thick cock hard and leaking.
The tip rested at her entrance, and a sting hissed over her skin when she tried to buck into him. A tiny growl rolled from her.
And as much as she wanted him to give in, she loved the claiming version of Njáll as much as she adored the worshipful version of him.
He kept her on the edge, refusing to fill her. Teasing her.
Instead, he reached forward, pulling the jade necklace tight, forcing her to hold her head high and stretch her neck. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her back, his free hand curling around her hip and stroking her navel.
“So pretty,” he purred, his teeth grazing her ear.
A retort died in her throat as he plunged into her.
Something between a moan and a scream shook the candles, the glass beads digging into her skin. His cock thickened, pulsing and immediately easing the ache she had carried since this morning.
Her hands scratched for purchase on the velvety furs. Everything burned. This must have been what hell felt like. The eternal flames of the afterlife licked at her spine, corrupted by the demon she willingly gave herself to.
Needy, whimpered moans spilled from her as he moved with devastating precision, thrusting into her with relentless need.
Each snap of his hips coiled the tension in her belly tighter and tighter, the heat in her limbs threatening to consume her until only ash remained.
“Greedy, needy flame. Just how I love you. Desperate and squeezing my cock.”
An inhuman sound was her only response, completely lost to him. He moved with the primal fury of a warrior who had captured his prey.
“Mine,” he growled, pulling hard on the necklace, making her back arch and present the creamy column of her throat to him. “Come for me, kona. Scream my name to the gods.”
“Njáll,” she shouted, unable to deny him anything. “Please. Please. Please.”
All the gods surely heard her.
The tension built quickly, almost unbearable.
Heat and mist and magic flared, her seier reacting to each punishing thrust from her mate, the one she was bound to.
It sparked at her fingertips and glittered around her curls.
“That’s it. So good. So good,” he rasped, his thumb finding her clit and stroking it.
Elara cried out, clenching so hard around him that her entire body convulsed with the sensation. Her limbs trembled and her mind dissolved into pure light, floating somewhere between worlds.
Njáll roared, releasing the necklace and digging his nails into her hips until the skin was bruised. Hot ropes of his spend filled her as he twitched and swelled, his teeth buried in her throat.
Only the sound of the mingled, panting breaths filled the space. Their sweat-slicked bodies combined as Njáll murmured Norse words into her skin.
Slowly, he slipped out of her, his seed coating her thighs.
Elara made to lie down, trying to tug him with her when he refused to move. A steel arm banded around her middle, forcing her to stay with her knees and breasts pushed into the furs now soaked with their sweat and combined release.
“Not yet, kona. I must clean you first.”
“What? Njáll what are y—”
The sound was cut off as the broad flat of his tongue swept through her slit. She sobbed, the noise muffled by the furs cradling her face.
“Gods. Njáll.”
“Don’t get shy on me now, little flame.”
He licked the come from her thighs, circling her clit and lapping her. Too quickly, he sent her roaring toward the cliff’s edge, starlight twinkling behind her eyes.
It was filthy and depraved and utterly him.
“You taste of me. As you always should,” he said, sinking his tongue into her fluttering center. “This cunt is mine. Just as you are. Say it. Say this cunt is mine. Say you are mine. And I will let you come.”
“It’s yours,” she whined. “All yours. I’m yours.”
A smile grew along her slit. “Good girl.”
On the next flick of his tongue over her clit, she broke apart, shattering into a million tiny ice crystals.
She bucked against his mouth, the coarse hair of his beard scraping her thighs. Sobs and moans and whines burned in her chest until she collapsed into a limp, sated mess of limbs.
Weakly, she rolled over, staring at a smug Njáll who wiped her release from his beard. He crawled beside her, positioning her on his chest with ease.
It was late or maybe early when the warm mountain of man beside her stirred.
“Come with me,” he hummed, his voice intoxicating and sleep-roughened.
“Tired,” she whined, clinging to the furs.
And sore.
“I know, kona,” he chuckled. “But there is something I wish to show you. And it cannot wait. Not any longer.”
Half asleep, she dressed, whining as Njáll straightened her fur cloak in place. She followed him through a forgotten, grassy path in the forest, their way illuminated by the bright stars.
Eventually, they arrived in a moon-drenched sanctuary nestled between two jagged peaks. A brilliant array of wildflowers covered the valley, their petals twinkling in the silver light.
The air was thick with the scent of honey and lavender.
Njáll stopped her with a soft touch on the small of her back. Two massive hands cradled her face.
All the lust, the playfulness, the command, vanished.
Instead, love and devotion glimmered in his eyes.
Lights shimmered above, the sky painted with dancing beams of indigo and pastel. Elara smiled, unable to look away from him for too long. He mirrored her happiness, his thumbs brushing the swells of her cheeks.
“You are everything, Elara. I do not have a ring of iron or gold to offer you. But I found this.”
Her brow raised, and his hand dipped into his pocket.
A polished river stone gleamed in his outstretched palm, dark patterns etched in the stone. The smooth surface slid under her fingers as she took it, turning it over and tracing the familiar path of his rune.
The one that had once been an apology, but now felt like a promise.
“I thought I lost it,” she whispered, turning the carved stone over in her fingers.
“Today. I intend to fulfill those markings.”
“Njáll?”
One hand fell to her waist, the branding, searing heat solemn but full of so many unspoken vows.
“Be my balance, Elara. Be my one truth. The source of my strength and the beat of my heart. Marry me, little flame. Allow me to follow you until the end of time.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her hand covering his on her cheek. She leaned in, her lips meeting his in an unhurried, soft embrace that left her heart so full that it might burst.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pulled her closer, fusing their bodies together and deepening the kiss. This was where she was always meant to be.