Chapter 9
Elina
“Can I braid your hair after we’ve eaten?
” Lea asks with a bright smile that lights up her eyes as she scoops green beans onto her plate.
We’re seated at one out of several rustic dinner tables in a grand dining hall with long wooden beams overhead, wide windows looking out into the pines, and the comfortable chatter of people who know each other well.
“I’d love that.” I take in the intricate braids at the side of her head, her natural makeup, and the rune on her forehead.
Her beautiful, deep green dress with a wide leather belt around her waist looks both modern and wild.
Around her neck hangs Mjolnir—Thor’s hammer—and loop earrings adorn the sides of her face.
Her style is somehow both anachronistic and modern, yet perfectly cohesive. “You really look gorgeous,” I say.
“Thanks, you do too.”
“Thanks,” I parrot and tentatively smooth the fabric of my black tight-fitting dress with a deep cleavage that fits perfectly at the club.
But here, it seems dull compared to all the bright, flowing dresses cinched with leather belts and threaded with decorative lacing.
I’m a bit jealous. Even with the ancient symbols, the leather, and the hints of a bygone era, nothing about them feels like a costume or reenactment.
They blend it all seamlessly with modern fabrics and contemporary style, turning it into something that feels wholly their own.
The men bear the same mix, most wearing black button-up shirts or T-shirts, lots of leather and silver bracelets with ancient symbolism, and either fancy leather shoes or boots. They wear braids too, though in wilder, more masculine styles.
Asbjorn leans in and strokes my hair behind my shoulder.
“You could wear rags and still look gorgeous,” he whispers in response to my unspoken insecurity.
He trails his hand down my arm, and the goose bumps rising beneath his touch make me hum.
“Actually, it’s a good thing you’re not, because I’d be tempted to simply rip them altogether. ”
Heat seeps into my cheeks and swirls at my core.
My whole body seems to be humming. It doesn’t help when I look around and see Doms gripping their sub’s neck possessively or watching them with direct intent.
The air is charged with sexual energy, power, and a sense of freedom that loosens my own inhibitions as effectively as three drinks would.
So I don’t protest when Asbjorn leans closer and presses tiny kisses to my neck.
I just close my eyes and tilt my head to welcome his ministrations.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
When I open my eyes again, I find Evelina patiently holding a platter full of meat beside me, spearing one while flashing me a bright grin. “Moose?” she asks, lifting the piece toward my plate. “Asbjorn shot it.”
“Oh, wow. Yes. Thank you.” I give her a shy smile as she drops the piece onto my plate.
She passes the platter on to Asbjorn at my other side, then leans in and whispers, “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in here.”
Me too, I want to say, but I don’t quite dare to give voice to it, afraid of getting my hopes up and becoming disappointed in the end.
“Next time Asbjorn invites you here, let me know. I’ll help you with a dress.” Her green eyes light up with an idea. “Oh, we can make a girl’s night out of it. Lea and I will find you a dress and do your hair. We’ll make colorful drinks and listen to Taylor Swift.”
“And Aurora,” Lea adds, bobbing her head eagerly.
Asbjorn points a finger at Lea, “That is not just girl music.”
She snickers. “The big bad Viking likes Aurora.”
Toke squeezes Evelina’s thigh. “Not too many drinks if you want to be whipped.”
Evelina pouts at him, then turns to me with eager anticipation.
“I’d love that,” I say, excitement coursing through my body and making my toes dance in my shoes. I really enjoy being with these people. “That is, if it’s okay, since I’m not part of the group, you know.”
“Don’t worry, you will be soon,” she says with a meaningful look as if she’s privy to something.
I’m about to ask what she means when the chatter suddenly simmers down. The room goes quiet in a matter of seconds, and everyone stands.
Asbjorn takes me by the hand and guides me to my feet with him.
“Eyes down,” he instructs quietly.
A rush goes through the room, and I breathe quietly as I bow my head and wait.
Footsteps sound somewhere in the distance, slow and measured. They pause, then continue down the long passage between the benches, coming closer to where I stand.
The air crackles, and a powerful energy wraps around me, slowing my breath and heightening my senses. A prickling sensation creeps over my skin, familiar and insistent.
I want to turn and look even as I want to drop my head even further. But I can’t seem to move. I simply tighten my grip on Asbjorn’s hand, and I’m grateful for the steady reassurance he provides with strokes of his thumb over my skin.
The approaching man stops behind us, and I feel Asbjorn turn and reach over our connected hands to shake Ulf’s hand. Then he turns toward the table again.
Thinking Ulf is about to move on, I gasp when a big hand slips onto my waist, firm but gentle.
Ulf’s scent wraps around me as he steps right up behind me—pine and primal masculinity.
It’s a scent I’ve only inhaled in brief moments, but it’s already embedded deep in my memory, sparking instant recognition and desire, just the same as his touch.
He’s so close I can feel the heat emitting from his body. He tightens his grip. Like I belong to him. The gesture does a number on my brain—my body. My muscles soften, my grip on Asbjorn’s hand too. I sway into Ulf’s touch, my whole being gravitating toward him.
His breath billows against my ear as he leans in and says, “Welcome.” It’s just one word, but it seems to convey so much more. He keeps his grip tight for another moment, stabilizing me in the sudden chaos he has hurled me into.
Slowly, he loosens his grip, trailing over my side as he pulls away. And then he’s gone.
The air sweeps over my skin, colder than before, and I tighten my grip on Asbjorn again, shuffling as my balance wavers.
When we all sit again and I lift my gaze, the room and the people around me feel distant—blurry. Sensing my disorientation, Asbjorn wraps an arm around me and brings me close.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers as if reading the way Ulf affects me perfectly. But his soothing strokes along my arm don’t quite help. Because I feel wrong. I’m here with Asbjorn, yet all I can think about is the touch of another man that lingers on my skin.
When I look up, both Evelina and Toke are watching me. Evelina gives me a soft smile, but I can’t tell if it’s meant to be reassuring or if there’s disapproval behind it.
Asbjorn has told me that infidelity is one of the greatest offences in the group—one of the few that will get you kicked out. At the time, when he told me, I felt reassured by the knowledge. But now, I feel like I’m crossing that exact line. I might not belong to Asbjorn, but I’m here with him.
I’m mostly quiet while we eat. When Ulf gets up from his seat at the end of the table to make a toast, I try not to look at him, but his eyes capture mine like an arrow on a line, shot with perfect aim and reeling me in.
“Sk?l,” he says, lifting his cup—to me.
I shrink under the weight of his attention, unable to hold steady, unable to keep up my defenses. I just sit there, staring back, breathing heavily as he holds me captive.
He looks formidable in his charcoal shirt, rolled up at the arms, revealing simple tattoos of old symbols and runes.
The long braid of his beard seems to symbolize authority and rank—it’s longer than anyone else’s—and the braided strip of hair gathered at the back of his head gives him a wild, untamed look, like he’s ready for battle.
But his gaze is not wild. It’s commanding in this steady and calm way.
Like a vast ocean. Or a finger caressing the sharp blade of a sword.
Only, he wouldn’t need the sword. His enemies would bow down at a single look.
And I want to do the same.
Oh God, I badly want to bow down to him.
I have explored some submission with Asbjorn, and I find peace in kneeling before him and following his command.
But it’s nowhere near the same pulsing, instinctive need to crash to my knees as when Ulf watches me.
I can’t explain it, but Ulf makes me want to give up myself—become an empty vessel for him to fill.
It scares me to the core even though it thrills me just as deeply.
“Sk?l,” he repeats, lifting his glass higher, aiming it at the whole room this time.
Asbjorn senses my still-growing discomfort and holds me closer, sliding me across the bench to bring me flush against him.
Cupping the back of my head, he brings me in for a soothing hug that makes the world drift away for a moment.
But when he releases me, all the tension and uncertainty return.
I feel like an intruder. I don’t belong here, and if they knew what I was feeling—the thoughts my head is conjuring—they’d send me packing before I even got a chance to prove myself.
Getting up and stepping over the bench, Asbjorn says, “I’ll be right back.” He pauses behind Evelina and places a hand on her shoulder, catching her attention while he addresses me, “Evelina will keep you company.”
With a bright smile, she nods, but a frown settles on her brow when she looks at me. “Are you okay?” she asks softly when Asbjorn leaves.
“Um, yeah, I think so.” I glance at Ulf, who is still watching me, then drop my gaze to the table.
Evelina places a gentle hand on my arm. “Is it the way he watches you or the way it makes you feel that makes you uncomfortable?”
I gulp, nervous at her astute observation. “The way he makes me feel,” I whisper.
“I know it’s scary. But don’t fight it. Just let it happen.” She glances at Toke with warm admiration. “I know how it is.”
I frown, not quite understanding. “But I’m with Asbjorn.”
“You’re not his. He hasn’t claimed you. Until you’re claimed or you have set any boundaries like that, you’re free to do whatever you want.”
“I just thought…” I lift my gaze to see Asbjorn leaning in to say something to Ulf. “Asbjorn said dishonesty is an offense. And infidelity is the worst kind.”
“It is,” Evelina agrees with a grave expression.
“But that’s once you’ve been claimed. Until that, you’re free to explore.
In fact, we encourage curiosity and exploration.
That way, you’ll be more certain once you find the right one.
So just go with the flow. Ulf would never cross a line with Asbjorn and vice versa.
The two have known each other their whole lives.
They built this place together. They would never go behind each other’s backs. ”
I’m not sure I fully comprehend what she means. Is it okay to flirt with Ulf? Should I pursue something with Ulf? How can I even do that when I’m not supposed to address him? And would I even want to?
My heart makes a double beat at that last thought.
But then it contracts, reminding me of that deep wound.
Part of me badly wants something to happen between Ulf and me, but I also know there’s no way I could take all that intensity.
It would swallow me whole and spit me out.
Maybe not on purpose, but because my wounded heart couldn’t take it.
No, what I have with Asbjorn is perfect. No strings attached, safe, and fun. It’s just what I need.