9. Bryn #3
Stepping inside we found the office deserted save for the heavy smell of wood and dust.
I scampered across the room for the desk that sat in the middle and checked the wax candles.
No heat. Thank goodness. That meant no one had been in here for a while.
But we could tell someone had been in the house today thanks to the glowing windows we’d spotted from the boat.
Thankfully, they were in a different part of the house.
Henrik rifled through the table by one of the windows, flipping through papers and scrolls while muttering under his breath.
“You know, silence is usually preferred on heists like these,” I whispered.
He glanced over his shoulder, giving me a cocky little look.
“Fine, check the bookshelves and see what you can find.” I pointed to the far side of the room where wall-height shelves stood sentry. The captain did as he was told. “Good boy.”
He spun and smirked.
That expression left a satisfying feeling inside me. A man that powerful listening to what I had to say, obeying my orders and requests, while looking to me as an expert in the room. It was a novel sensation. One I for some reason didn’t mind. Not at all.
Shaking off the distraction that was the handsome fae captain, I set to work searching the desk and any hidden compartments it might contain.
Rootling with the panels, I found two within minutes—the first on the left side beneath a ship’s sail, the other underneath the desk and behind the drawer where Foyn kept all his writing accoutrement.
Neither contained what I was searching for.
The former was schematics for a small ship, which I pocketed in case I ever got the chance to visit, and the latter was travel logs noting some sort of torrid affairs in various harbors.
I sneered. One of the many reasons why men couldn’t be trusted.
Moving on from the desk, I refocused my efforts on the table behind it.
Papers and scrolls littered the work surface beside an ornate Viking oil lamp with runic engravings.
I didn’t dare light it—it was far too low and close to the papers—plus it might alert someone to our presence.
I’d have to continue to operate via moonlight that streamed through the curtains and the limited glow from Henrik’s powers, which he appeared to be keeping to a very small orb and blocking from the door with his body.
Hvaler. My gaze locked on the term on one of the papers. Whales.
Excellent.
I carefully pried the parchment from the bottom of the pile and… My blooming smile disintegrated. Lines and numbers scrawled across the page noting what parts of a whale had been sold and for how much. From the blubber to the tail, every part of the poor creature had been accounted for.
With a tentative glance, I looked back at the Viking oil lamp. Was that oil from rendered whale fat?
“Look what I found,” Henrik said from the other side of the room, mercifully drawing my attention away from the list in my hand.
I glanced over my shoulder and let out a little surprised noise.
He stood beside the extensive bookshelves and nudged one of the planks.
The entire casing swung inward revealing a hidden closet.
Not a bad place to hide precious things, especially a chart stash.
I was about to say as much when a thumping noise halted the words in my throat.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and my heart stopped along with my limbs.
“Ship… on the horizon,” someone mumbled.
“Probably passing by,” another male voice said.
I stepped away from the table, turning toward Henrik. Our eyes met, widening, and I mouthed, “Hide.” I loped toward him, grabbed his arm, and swung us inside the closet. The shelf door bumped shut, plunging us into darkness.
Henrik’s broad hand was on my waist holding me in place.
We stood chest to chest, thigh to thigh, our breaths covering each other.
My body heated drastically from his presence as my back pressed against a thin shelf while his knee nudged between my thighs.
It took everything in my power not to think about how good it felt, nor imagine how much better it could feel if we were spread out on a bed without clothes.
Just the mental image had me near sweating.
The footsteps grew louder and the door to the study moved, people entering the room.
“Did you leave this door unlocked?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t think so,” another man replied with a hiccup. “Wouldn’t be the first time, though.”
“How many times have I told you?”
“Sorry, Foyn.”
The first speaker sighed, and Henrik bristled. “Let me grab this and we can head to the— Huh.”
Shite. Shite. Shite. Quizzical noises were never a good sign. I didn’t dare breathe, nor move. One tiny tremble could alert them and end up in our deaths. And I refused to die practically in Henrik’s arms… Even if they were nice and sturdy and warm.
A single drop of sweat fell between my breasts, and a light blue glow emanated from below me. I looked down to find the Heart of Hrim glowing against my chest.
Fuck.