Chapter 6
Arkyn had no idea what to do with Ama. She pressed against him as if she could melt under his skin, snuffling him like one of Ulrik’s many dogs, and exhaling happy little sighs like he was her drug fix.
He didn’t want to make things awkward—well, more awkward—by pointing out the fact she clung to him more completely than a wet t-shirt even though they barely knew each other. Neither did he want to push her away. She… she fit him. So much so, he fought the urge to simply pull her more firmly against his body and sniff her back.
“Childhood memories?” He murmured against her purple hair, its soft waves wafting against his lips and cheek in a gentle breeze. Or maybe it moved on its own volition, caressing him with slender tentacles. Odin’s beard, being around Ama made him spout bad poetry and silly imaginings. “Yeah, my brothers and I had a pretty awesome childhood.”
But how would she know? Why would she assume that?
She lifted her face, a dreamy smile on her lips and her eyelids dipping like some content Cheshire cat. By the Allfather, would she look like this after lovemaking? He was sorely tempted to thrust aside his need for a proper girlfriend in order to find out.
Then her eyes popped open and her smile brightened. Her galaxy contacts sucked him in again. He flew, floated, drifted as if without a single care, surrounded by glittering stars and diaphanous nebulae caught on some cosmic lazy river, all his cares and worries leaching away. The truth of life, the answers of the universe, stretched out before him as if he need only reach out to pluck them up. It was a heady, drunken, weightlessness of possibility and it shimmered in his veins.
Maybe she was his drug fix.
“Get a room, big bro. Or throw some bags.” Ivar spoke in his head, yanking him back down to earth and the family barbeque.
Ama tensed on a gasp, then whirled to face the cornhole game. Her pert backside brushed against his cock, and he swallowed a grunt of need.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt!” She apologized to the group, but continued to press her back against Arkyn, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of not touching him. As if that chaste contact—okay, maybe not so chaste, as the position of her ass chubbed him something fierce—was as vital to her as breathing. Maybe he could talk her into a romantic evening walk in the woods after dinner, which, maybe, could lead to some further exploration of this physical attraction they seemed to share?—
No. Just stop.
A fuck in the woods, no matter how hot, wasn’t what he wanted. Not from a prospective girlfriend. And certainly not from Ama. She was too… He didn’t need… They weren’t…
Fuck. Arkyn scrubbed his hand down his face and stepped back to put some physical distance between Ama and his erection. Was she rubbing off on him, and not in a sexual kind of way? His thoughts were scattered and elusive, but he knew in his gut a quick down-and-dirty fuck was not what he wanted with her.
But did he want anything with her? Should he want anything with her? She distracted him from his hunt for the perfect woman to help lead his clan.
“Need help climbing off that struggle bus there, big bro?” The mirth in Ulrik’s mental voice was blatant. The second-born was enjoying Arkyn’s internal battle a bit too much. And their new nickname for him.
Ama turned back to him, concern in her eyes and her brows knotted. “I should leave, shouldn’t I? I’m ruining everything.”
“Don’t you dare leave.” Lin’s command echoed from the deck as she marched toward the cornhole field. Or, more specifically, toward Ama. “Eydís invited you and I haven’t officially met you. If you leave now, you’ll miss all the fun of poking the bear to see if he’ll growl.”
“I’m not a bear, Lin.” Arkyn sighed.
“The only poking I want to do is to Lucia.” Ivar added, just to be crude.
“That’s gross, cousin.” Anders piped in from where he and Fredrik lounged in chairs, building a tower of empty beer cans.
“Only if you’re doing it wrong.” Ulrik added his own can to the nearest tower. “Take it from your older, wizened cousins.”
Fredrik snorted. “Older, for sure.”
“Hi. I’m Ty’s fiancée, Wu Lin.” Lin had planted herself in front of Ama and held out a hand like it was a plate of her scrumptious egg rolls. She owned a Chinese restaurant in LA’s Chinatown, and her chef was amazing, if a bit surly toward Ty. Knowing his youngest brother, Arkyn was certain Ty would win over the grumbly older man eventually. After all, he and Lin had managed to defeat Níeh?ggr the world destroyer that the Dragon Council’s records had prophesized… the prickly cook couldn’t defend against Ty’s golden retriever personality forever.
Ama grasped Lin’s hand with both of hers. “You were a mighty general in a previous life. You commanded armies with great skill.”
Lin blinked at Ama’s declaration, then laughed, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “I still am and I still do. I own a restaurant.” Then Lin winked at her.
“If Lin was a general, what was I?” Ty draped his arm over Lin’s shoulders, kissing her temple with all the reverence of a man completely in love.
Ama pulled her hands back and worried her fingers. Tension drew her shoulders up, and Arkyn’s muscles tensed as if ready to battle whatever caused her such stress. When she spoke, her voice was soft and hesitant. “Well, um, you… you were Lin’s concubine.”
Ty and Lin burst into laughter, followed by Arkyn and the rest of the brothers. Ama could not know, but Ty’s and Lin’s dragons were long lost lovers, having finally found one another nearly a year ago after centuries apart. That Ty and Lin had also known one another in a previous life wasn’t a shock.
Neither was the fact Ty had been her sex toy.
Ty pulled Lin closer until their mutual mirth finally calmed. Then he flashed a broad smile at Ama and shrugged. “Well, I guess some things never change.”
“Let’s let the men finish their game, Ama.” Lin pushed Ty back toward cornhole with a loving swat on his butt. Then she tugged Ama into a side hug and ushered the woman away. “By the way, I absolutely love your contacts.”
“Oh, I don’t wear contacts. I have Central Heterochromia and it makes my eyes look like galaxies.” Ama explained as they walked away. “It’s supposed to be hereditary, but I’m the only one in my family who has it.”
“You have something, alright.” Lin confirmed as their voices grew out of range for Arkyn to hear. “But I bet it’s more than just awesome eye coloring.”
Someone shoved cornhole bags at his chest. He grabbed them and took his turn tossing them toward the other board. But his tosses were mechanical, and he didn’t bother to register the result; his head was no longer in the game.
The contacts he’d assumed Ama wore were her actual eye color. Her galaxy eyes that hypnotized him so the rest of the world fell away and he floated as if a weightless space explorer. He literally got lost in her eyes every time he looked at her. What kind of lovesick puppy did that? And was he even lovesick? Not that he would know from firsthand experience, but he didn’t feel in love with her. He didn’t even feel in like with Ama. He felt… an inexorable pull to her. Something deep and instinctive he couldn’t name drew him to her. His instinct and training were to protect. And Ama was someone who obviously needed a knight in shining armor. A defender. Someone who would have her back because she chose to ignore society’s expectations and instead followed a set of guidelines known only to herself.
Yet, last night at the bar, she hadn’t needed to be defended or protected from the disdain and mockery of her friends. She hadn’t even seemed to care they might think her weird. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need his protection, and had actually been the one to advise him on what to do with Astra.
Maybe he needed her.
That possibility left him unsettled. He’d been born and bred to be needed, to be in charge. Yes, he worked closely with his brothers—Ulrik as the second-born most especially—and he valued their input. But needing them because he was incapable of handling himself? That was laughable. And the thought of that role reversal with Ama was awkward at best.
Something thumped his chest. Another round of cornhole bags, no doubt. But when Arkyn palmed them, he found Ulrik’s hand instead.
“For the record, you can never make fun of me again for how brainless I acted when I first met Eydís.” His brother’s voice, deep with humor, was underscored by the sympathy of a man who understood Arkyn’s predicament. Ulrik leaned closer. “And also for the record, I was back to normal by the third time I’d seen her.”
Was it so obvious that Arykyn was affected by Ama? She was supposed to be in his life for some reason, that much was apparent, even though the reason remained elusive. Best to acknowledge whatever Fate held in store for him. But he refused to give up control of his life and choices; sitting back and waiting for Fate to happen simply wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
He pounded his palm against Ulrik’s shoulder in a brotherly display of affection and smirked. “Fífl, your romance with Eydís was such a whirlwind, you two were engaged by that time.”