Page 104 of Edge of the Wild

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so forward: almost flirtatious. “Bjorn, what are you doing?”

The spark left him – which left his gaze, perhaps even worse, intense. Heated. Serious and fixated. “Erik left me behind to support you, and the children. To keep you safe, and give you a shoulder to lean on, if you need it.”

A strong shoulder, she thought. A tremendous one.

“But you already know that,” he continued, “and you’re dodging the issue.”

“What issue?” she said, dodging.

“Revna.”

She wanted to squirm beneath his gaze, or cover her face, turn away – wanted even to flee. And she wanted to do all of those things because his gaze left her wanting to do something else entirely, and she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself, for a whole host of stupid reasons she’d gone over in her head again and again and again.

She did none of those things. Traced her wine cup with twitchy fingers and forced herself to meet his stare – the one that promised all sorts of wicked delights, but which was still caring, and affectionate, respectful, even – she’d never doubted that he respected her. And sad, too, because he didn’t think he could ever have what he wanted, but he wanted it anyway.

It brought to mind Rune and Tessa, wanting one another against the circumstances.

And, more strongly, of Erik. Poor, restrained, buttoned-up Erik, who’d lived his whole life assuming he would never have someone of his own to love, resigned to being alone, but loving and looking after them all – after his kingdom – all the same.

But Erik had a pretty redheaded boy in his bed, now.

And Revna had…resistance.

And Bjorn had longing.

For once, she had no idea what to say. He deserved better than whatever paltry excuse she could come up with, so she set her half-full cup aside, stood, and moved toward her chambers.

He caught her arm, as she passed his chair.

She froze. For all that it was a careful touch, his grip, she knew, was unbreakable. He would release her, if she tugged – she knew that. And that was why she stood rooted, barely breathing, and looked down at his huge hand, where it rested at her elbow, fingers meeting around the circumference of her arm, and then looked into his face.

And found a kind of hunger that only he had ever directed toward her. Torstan had loved her, had wanted her, but their relationship had always been marked by Tor’s irreverent, carefree attitude. He’d been all warm, lazy smiles, and love tinged with confidence; they’d loved one another equally, and he’d always known that.

Bjorn’s love – and it could only be called that; deny it all she liked, she knew that was the emotion burning in his gaze – was a savage, nearly-violent thing. A starving, hungry, desperate love, one he kept in check, kept tamped down low, from sheer force of will.

Seeing it like this, right up close, was staggering.

Whatever her face did, it inspired a small, rueful smile from him. When he spoke, his voice was low, gravely, and without hope. “I’ve never known you to be the kind of woman to play coy, or pretend to something you don’t want. This isn’t like you.”

No, it wasn’t. Yet here they were.

“If you think I’m repulsive,” he continued, “or an ogre, just tell me and have done with it. I won’t – I won’t put any pressure on you. Not if you don’t want it. Not if you don’t want – me.” The last was just a scrape of sound; he sounded ashamed. His face looked braced and ready for rejection.

Her throat was tight, and it made it hard to speak. “I don’t – you’re notrepulsive.”

“That’s something, I guess,” he said, without a trace of humor.

“Why does it matter to you so much?” she asked, voice a half-choked whisper, now. “Why me? There are other women.”

“Women who aren’t you?”

“But – butwhy me?” she repeated. Her breathing had picked up; her pulse drummed in her ears. She’d never been this way before – this uncertain, wavering…girl. She’d always beensure. Alwaysknown.

And look where that had led.

“I’m a fighter not a poet,” he said. “If you want a fancy explanation, I can’t give you one. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“I–”

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