3. Chapter 3 #3
At that, I nod. “Aye. Last summer we raided a monastery in Wessex. Easy targets as they’re unguarded and have plenty of loot and thralls to bring home, back when we still kept and sold thralls.”
“You’ve led an interesting life,” Arlo says and takes a big bite of his fried fish. The grease makes his lips shine.
“We do what we must to survive. Come spring, we’ll go raiding again. I admit, I miss being out on the sea.”
Arlo smiles. “Dad liked to take me fishing when I was little. I was always bored stiff until he caught a fish. I never seemed to catch more than some trash.”
“It takes a bit of practice, aye, but there’s nothing more satisfying than eating fish you caught and cooked yourself.”
Hunt for him, my wolf insists, catch him fish! Many fish!
“Really? You should take me fishing sometime, then. What’s a good time to go?”
“This late in the day, they won’t be biting. Early morning’s a good time, or in the evening when they’re looking for supper. How about this evening?”
“I’d love that,” Arlo says with such sincerity, it makes me momentarily speechless. I can’t imagine why he’d enjoy being stuck in a boat with me.
Cheeks heating, I shrug. “You wished to talk?”
“I did.” Arlo lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks on each one. Heat simmers in the pit of my stomach. “I think I’ve found a way for this to work for both of us.”
“How so?”
“So, you know that I’m working on a potion that could cure your berserkism entirely, without the need for a mate at all. I need one more ingredient and my nan has it.”
“Then why isn’t it done?” I ask.
Arlo lifts his eyebrows. “To annoy you, obviously! Ugh, the problem is that she won’t give it to me. She’s worried I’ll get hurt again—”
My shoulders stiffen. “Again?”
Arlo bites his lip. “Yes, there was an incident with me and a berserk wolf, but that was a long time ago. Anyway—”
My claws bite into the table’s wooden surface. “Who? Tell me their name.”
Arlo leans in and flicks me hard on the nose, shocking me out of my rage. “Down, boy! The wolf who did it is no longer a threat.” Sadness clouds the air around Arlo. Whoever this wolf was, he cared for them.
“So you need an ingredient for this elixir, but this nan person won’t give it to you?”
“Bingo.” Arlo conjures up his usual carefree smile. I hadn’t realized it was a mask, not until now. “So I was thinking, what if I convinced my family that werewolves could be trusted?”
“I expect this is where I come in?” Not sure I like the sound of this.
“Precisely! I’ll introduce you to them as my betrothed.”
My French fries get stuck in my throat. I manage to choke them down, eyes watering. “Your… what?”
“I thought about pretending we’re dating, but being engaged sounded much more permanent. They’d have to accept you as a part of my life. And, once Nan sees beyond your grumpy exterior to your soft marshmallow center, she’ll feel comfortable giving me the last ingredient I need.”
I shake my head. “That will never work.”
“Well, not with that attitude, it won’t!”
He truly expects me to pretend to be his husband-to-be? Has he even thought this through? “And if your parents find out we’re lying?”
“They won’t! Probably.”
Shaking my head, I get to my feet. “Get out of my house.”
Arlo bolts from his seat and comes to stand in front of me. “Gunnar, wait! If I succeed in making this potion, you wouldn’t have to take a mate. You’d be cured, and you can go on living your hermit-chic lifestyle without ever having to see me again.”
My wolf growls low in my chest, clearly hating the idea, but to me, it sounds too good to be true. I could stay faithful to Leif without causing my family any pain. “You’re sure this will work?”
“I have no reason to believe it won’t. Trust me. It’s the best alternative you’re going to get. All you have to do is meet my family, play the part of my broody lumbersnack betrothed, and that’s it.”
“You’re forgetting a rather important detail. How are we going to convince your family we’re madly in love?”
My heart beats against the cage of my chest as he comes closer, dark eyes intent upon me. “I don’t know about you,” he says, placing a hand on my chest, “but I’m rather good at pretending.”
His hand is so bloody warm that its warmth seeps through my tunic to heat my skin.
I swallow hard, though my mouth is drier than a desert in one of the Islamic countries my brothers and I have visited. “I… suppose we’ll have to get to know each other well, then.”
Arlo’s plush lips curl into a smile. “Intimately.”
My hand moves before I can stop it, fingers wrapping around his wrist. I need him closer, want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and bathe in the scent of his magic, heady as the clouds before a storm.
“Your family would not mind that you’re betrothed to a man?” I know humans can be narrow-minded about same-sex unions. I am unsure if witch covens share the sentiment.
“Of course not,” he says without hesitation.
Then there’s no excuse I can dig up to refuse.
We’re doing this. We must.
“Fine.” I yank his hand from my chest. “I’ll play along with this little scheme of yours. But that’s all this is. Pretend. Once this is over, you’ll get your ingredient, I’ll get your potion, and I’ll have no need for a mate. Correct?”
Arlo wrenches his hand from my grip. “Correct,” he says coolly. “Now, take me fishing, and we’ll come up with a plan.”
If we can pull this off, I’ll never have to betray Leif’s place in my heart. I can keep my sanity and keep my vow to love no other until the day Leif and I meet again in Valhalla.
Ignoring the way my wolf howls for Arlo, well… that will be another challenge entirely.