Chapter 13 Njord’s Draumar
thirteen
Njord’s Draumar
Njord
He could sense the blessing of the ritual unfolding all around him, Talvi’s powerful seier spreading across the country in gentle waves. His nephew was doing an excellent job, and Thori’s release had fueled the blessing further.
His thrall was sleeping, still cuddled in Njord’s arms and utterly exhausted. His short-cropped hair stuck to his forehead in sweaty strands, and his whole body was cooling rapidly now that the effects of Svanhild’s potion were wearing off.
Njord pulled another blanket over Thori to keep him warm and heaved a deep sigh. He knew he was treating Odinsson far too leniently, but how could he be cruel when Thori was hurt and vulnerable?
There’s no shame in kindness.
Startled, Njord looked up.
Jokull, he said, tears springing to his eyes.
Her large head floated above the bed. In waking life she wouldn’t have been able to fit into his pavilion, but in this vision her front paws rested on the foot of the bed, her body coiled around it.
Her nose came down to sniff Thori, and Njord was overwhelmed by guilt.
When Jokull had died at the hands of Thori Odinsson, he’d vowed to avenge her.
He’d vowed to make Thori pay for ever coming to Vanaheim.
And yet here he was, coddling the man who’d ended Jokull’s life, instead of making his existence miserable.
I’m sorry, he whispered into the darkness.
Don’t apologize, my dear.
No, I’ve wronged you. I should kill him, shouldn’t have made him my thrall in the first place.
Jokull huffed, small puffs of fog rising from her nostrils.
You shouldn’t waste your time being mad at the godling. Why haven’t you mated yet?
Njord laughed, the tears finally spilling over. It was typical of Jokull to care only about carnal affairs. She’d loved the battle, too, but couldn’t hold grudges for long.
Have you forgotten that he brought us both down from the sky?
Jokull’s eyes crinkled.
A mighty throw.
He killed you.
So?
So?! He killed you, and I intended to make him pay for it. Except that I seem to be incapable of carrying out his punishment.
What was he even arguing about with this echo of Jokull? Was she really here to console him, or was his mind playing tricks on him?
Jokull growled, a low rumble from her belly.
He looks plenty punished to me. A thrall, chained and collared. Hair cut short. Didn’t he even promise to serve you?
He was desperate.
Was he lying?
Running a hand through Thori’s hair, Njord contemplated her words.
Was Thori only trying to survive long enough to escape or plunge a dagger into Njord’s back?
It seemed like the most reasonable explanation.
His father had certainly taught him to think this way.
But as far as Njord knew, Thori was so true to his word it was almost bordering on stupidity.
He isn’t especially adept at lying and betrayal.
Unlike you, Jokull snickered.
Did you come here to insult me even in death?
Gods, he’d missed their banter.
I’m praising your cunning, fish god.
Looking down at Thori, curled in his lap, Njord felt all smugness drain from him.
I don’t feel all that cunning, old friend. I left little Talvi to rule the kingdom alone, but I’m no closer to finding Ahti and Vellamo than I’d been years ago. And now that I’ve finally captured Thori, I feel like all I do is protect him.
Nonsense, Jokull hissed. Why not use the runes as they were thrown for you? You find him desirable, no?
Well…
Was she right? Did he lust after the man who’d brought nothing but pain and destruction to his sister’s kingdom? Of course, Thori was gorgeous beyond measure; anyone with eyes could see that. But desire?
Why not take him as your lover? What better way to humiliate the AEsir? And this way you won’t even have to treat him cruelly.
Njord hesitated. He hadn’t seen it this way before, but Jokull was right.
Thori already trusted him to some degree, and he’d seen the look in his eyes when Njord had wrapped his hand around his cock.
His need had been fueled by the potion, but his pleasure had been real.
The trap was perfect. If he lured Thori in just a little deeper—if he played this right—he could bring him to spill Asgard’s secrets.
And that could cost the AEsir the upper hand in their millennia-spanning conflict with Vanaheim.
Jokull bared her teeth in a dragonish smile.
I like your thinking, Njord said slowly.
Good. Don’t forget my words. I want you to be happy.
Thori stirred in his arms, his brows furrowing as if he were having a nightmare.
I guess you’re in for another round. Svanhild doesn’t do things halfheartedly.
Njord had the distinct impression of being laughed at. He watched as Jokull’s blue scales turned translucent and her sharp-toothed smile faded into the darkness of the tent.
Inhaling a deep breath, his vision cleared. The seeing dream passed, and once again it was only he and Thori in the tent.
Had it really been Jokull who’d visited him? He could believe it. The fabric between the worlds was thin tonight, the air saturated with seier.
Thori groaned, shivering even as his skin heated up again. What had Svanhild mixed into that potion?
“What’s going on?” Thori slurred.
Njord ran his hands down his shoulders, relishing the feeling of Thori’s muscles flexing under his fingertips.
“You’re really affected by her seier, huh?”
Blinking, Thori opened his eyes and looked up at him. His gaze was glazed and unfocused, and it was clear he was still under the influence of the potion and the ritual unfolding around them.
“I—”
His lips parted on a soundless moan.
“I know, I know. It’s going to be fine.” Njord soothed. “Can you sit up for me?”
Thori struggled to rise from his slumped position, and Njord pulled him flush against his chest. He couldn’t help but marvel at the perfect expanse of Thori’s naked skin, warm and soft under his touch, bronzed from the summer’s sun and dotted with freckles.
Thori of the thunder was indeed beautiful, and he fit perfectly into Njord’s arms. The way he melted into Njord’s touch had no business feeling this good.
“It’s not that bad,” Thori mumbled. “You don’t have to—I can—shake it off.”
“I doubt that.”
A deep blush spread across Thori’s cheeks.
He flinched in Njord’s embrace as a particularly intense wave of seier rolled over them.
Talvi and H?kon seemed to be enjoying themselves; their powerful blessing surely tangible for every vala in the realm.
But Thori wasn’t a vala. Still, Svanhild had made him susceptible to the magic that flooded the land, and Thori was absolutely powerless to shut it out.
“Oh—Hel—”
Curling in on himself, Thori pulled his knees to his chest, obviously still thinking he could see this through on his own, or maybe that Njord would leave him to his fate this time.
This wouldn’t do.
“Let me touch you,” Njord whispered.
He was well aware of the ridiculousness of his remark, considering Thori was already nestled firmly in his embrace. Njord ran his fingers up Thori’s thigh to his knee, determined to make sure he understood what he was talking about.
Thori went completely still. Even his breath seemed to catch.
“Let me touch you,” Njord repeated, speaking directly into Thori’s ear. “Let me take care of you.”
For another shuddering breath, Thori hesitated. Then, with a soft sound of relief, his knees fell open.
He was hard again, his cock flushed a pretty pink. And without a conscious thought, Njord wrapped his hand around him. He didn’t like his own eagerness to touch Thori, to make him come undone, one bit.
Why not take him as your lover? Jokull had said. This way, you won’t even have to treat him cruelly.
Even this echo of her, speaking to him from the other side, thought too highly of him. For Njord feared that if he actually allowed himself to take Odinsson into his bed more than this one time, he would grow far too attached.
But this once, it couldn’t be helped.
Gently, he started stroking Thori, relishing in the way he shuddered when Njord tightened his grip ever so slightly or brushed his thumb over the tip.
“You don’t have to—” Thori breathed, although his hips bucked upward. “You shouldn’t have to—”
“Shh, you belong to me, and I’ll look after your needs.”
Uttering the cutest of choked-up sounds, Thori hid his heated face against Njord’s neck.
“My apologies.”
Thori’s voice was barely audible, but his words felt like a plunge into icy water to Njord.
Hel, he had dreamed that Thori would apologize for his deeds.
He had spent countless nights fantasizing about how he would make him pay, how he’d make Thori Odinsson and the House of Asgard pay with humiliation and death.
Only this twisted version of his plans didn’t feel particularly satisfying.
He had seen countless men suffer without caring, but with Thori, he couldn’t even feign disinterest in his fate.
“Don’t apologize,” Njord said. “This is Svanhild’s doing. Not your fault.”
Twisting in his arms, Thori regarded him with lust-blown eyes as if he was searching for something in Njord’s features. Biting his lip, Thori looked unbearably pretty. And then, just like that, he leaned in for a kiss.
For a breathless second, Njord couldn’t even process what was happening, couldn’t react.
Jerking back, Thori covered his mouth as if Njord’s lips had burned him.
“Gods, I thought—I didn’t mean to—”
With a harsh tug, Njord pulled him back in.
He kissed him angrily, hungrily.
And Thori opened up to him without hesitation as soon as Njord’s tongue demanded entrance.
Grabbing Thori’s head with both hands, Njord guided him into a more comfortable position. One that afforded Njord better access to soft lips and smooth skin. And again, Thori pliantly followed his lead, wrapping his arms around Njord’s shoulders as he went.