Page 20 of Hunted

The insinuation in his words causes heat to creep into my cheeks. I open my mouth to respond, but he's already turning on his heel and heading back toward the kitchen.

Left alone, I exhale a shaky breath. Get it together, Zara. He's just trying to fluster you.

Pushing off the door frame, I follow the mouthwatering aroma of stew wafting from the kitchen. Aksel is bent over the pot on the stove, stirring the contents.

I quickly avert my eyes before he catches me ogling him. Again. Clearing my throat, I take a seat at the rustic old table. "It smells amazing. I didn't realize you were such a good cook."

Aksel casts me a sidelong glance over his shoulder, one corner of his sensuous mouth quirking up. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Well, maybe you can enlighten me over dinner then."

His darkening gaze sweeps brazenly over my body once more before returning to the stew. "Maybe I will."

Despite my attempt to downplay the sizzling tension, I know there's no denying the primal attraction that crackles between us. I worry my lower lip, unable to shake the feeling that I may be in over my head with this man. Yet that only seems to excite me more.

Aksel ladles hearty portions into two bowls. He sets one in front of me with a grunt before taking the seat across the table.

"This looks incredible," I gush, hoping some enthusiastic conversation will help dissipate the tension. "I don't think I've ever had authentic Norwegian cuisine."

Aksel merely gives a noncommittal shrug as he digs into his food. I study his chiseled features, trying to read his stony expression. His dark brows are furrowed in their usual brooding scowl.

Undeterred, I forge ahead with the small talk. "So, will you tell me how long you’ve lived out here? In this cabin, I mean."

He pauses, meeting my gaze with those intense eyes that never fail to make my breath catch. "Long enough."

I fidget in my seat, nodding slowly. "Right, of course. It's really...cozy. Rustic."

An awkward silence stretches between us as we eat. I sneak glances at Aksel, admiring the sharp angles of his jaw, the smattering of dark stubble, and the intriguing ink of his tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

Clearing my throat, I try again. "Those are really cool tattoos, by the way. What do they mean?"

His eyes narrow slightly as he regards me. For a moment, I think he will brush me off again. But then he slowly rolls up his sleeve, revealing an intricate pattern of symbols twisting around his muscular forearm.

"Norse runes," he rumbles. "Protection symbols. Strength. Guides for journeys."

"Wow," I breathe, leaning closer to get a better look. I can't resist reaching out to lightly trace the swirling black lines with my fingertip. "They're beautiful."

Aksel turns deathly still, holding my captive gaze as I continue trailing over the ink. A heavy intensity simmering in his eyes causes my heart to slam against my ribs.

"You find them intriguing?" he murmurs, voice taking on a deep, gravelly quality.

Heat prickles along my neck as I give a shaky nod. "V-Very. I've always been fascinated by ancient cultures and symbolism."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Aksel's mouth, crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes. "Is that so?"

I swallow hard, my fingers stilling on his arm. Electricity seems to spark between us, raising the fine hairs along my skin. "Maybe you could tell me more about them some time?"

The words come out in a breathless whisper as my gaze moves to his lips. Full and sensuous, I can't help imagining how they might feel against mine.

"Maybe I will, littlefugl," Aksel rumbles. "If you ask nicely."

I can barely choke down another bite of the delicious stew. My mouth has gone so dry. The tension has become suffocating, charging the air with an electric current.

As he finishes the last few bites, Aksel pushes his empty bowl aside and stands in one fluid motion. My breath catches as he moves to stand behind me. The heat of his solid body radiates against my back, making me hyperaware of every inch of space between us.

Aksel leans down until his lips graze the shell of my ear. His stubble scratches my sensitive skin as he murmurs in a low, dangerous rumble, "I'm done playing games."

A shudder races down my spine at the blatant threat in his tone. This is it—he's finally making his move. Part of me has been anticipating this moment with a heady mixture of fear and arousal. But now that it's here, panic surges through my veins.

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