Page 105 of The Viking in the Vault
My breath catches, a whole array of instinctive reactions rising in me at once—shock, arousal, nerves, delight. I manage a half-laugh, half-exhale, searching his face.
“You mean…like now?”
A slow smile curls across his lips. “Yes. Now.”
He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “Let them feast,” he says. “Let them rejoice.”
Then, quieter—richer: “You will come with me to the dwelling. And I will make you my mate in full.”
He doesn't wait for a response—not that I could give him one with my pulse thudding like this. Instead, he releases my hand just long enough to scoop the crate from the ground, tucking it under one arm, and offers the other to me.
The Skoll part like a tide as we pass through them, their voices lifting in joy, their howls echoing like a benediction behind us.
And I go with him—into the night, into the dark, into whatever this strange, glowing future might hold. Because I’m not a spiritual person, I never have been…but this?
This feels sacred.
37
RAGNAR
The very air in the tent is heavy…thick with anticipation for what we are about to do.
Lined with thick furs and thermal cloth, lit from within by a lantern powered by a cracked, still-functioning cell from the Stormcaller. The scent inside is clean snow and Kanin pines—Skoll comforts, familiar ones.
Elena’s now, too.
My fenvarra stands near the entrance, cheeks flushed from the cold and from how I spoke to her before the clan. She’s breathing hard, trying to look composed, but her pulse beats visibly at the base of her throat.
I can scent her anticipation…her arousal.
Ineed hernaked, close, moaning for all our crew to hear.
“You look nervous,” I observe as I kneel to open the crate. Elena is twisting her hands in front of her, chewing on her lip. I want to stop her, to occupy her lips.
She clears her throat.
“I guess I’m just…” she pauses, brow furrowed. “…is this like, a forever thing? Not that I don’t…we just don’t really know each other that well and it feels like this is a really permanent kind of thing and?—”
I stand, leaving the crate partially open, and I move to take Elena’s hands. The space is small for me, and I cross it in a few easy strides, but it’s a reminder of how small she is that this tent is nearly cavernous around her.
“Elena,” I murmur. “I know that you have experienced…males that do not stay, or that bind females to contracts. I know humans have different customs than the Skoll. But you should know—any commitment you have to me is wholeheartedly yours to give or revoke at any time.”
I bring her hand up to my lips to kiss her knuckles, one by one.
“Males of my speciesearnour place at our mate’s side,” I continue. “I will earn your love each morning and each night until the day I die.”
Elena’s fingers uncurl against mine, no longer tight and knotted, just…tentative.
“I don’t want to revoke it,” she breathes. “I just want to know what I’m stepping into.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Then let me show you.”
I keep her hand in mine and guide her toward the crate, where I release her and kneel once again. The first piece I pull is a torque of etched metal, glimmering in the light—a Skoll captain’s vowband, meant to be worn by their fenvarra on ceremonial occasions. I hold it out, and her lips part slightly as she takes it, fingers grazing the etchings.
“It says…” she pauses as the translation flickers to life. “Oh, that’s lovely.”
