Page 23 of Hungry Like a Wolf
She gave him a thick log.
He set it on the stump. “Orm tell you to do this?”
“Aye.” She folded her arms.
He brought the axe down with deadly accuracy, splitting the thick log in two with a thwack and sending both pieces falling to the floor. “Next.”
“But…”
“Pass me another.” He held out his hand.
“Orm will…”
“Orm will what?”
“He toldmeto do this.” Despite her protest, she handed over another log.
“And I’ll do it for you.” He split the log. “Because otherwise, you’re going to take your own leg off and then you’ll be no use to him or anyone else.”
“I can chop logs.”
“I’m sure you can, and you could today if you had a lighter axe.” He picked up the log she’d splintered but not split and chopped it in two. “This is an axe made for a man. You could do it if you had a woman’s axe. Like the one Astrid has.”
“Your sister?”
“Ja.” He nodded at the log pile. “Keep ’em coming.”
She positioned another log on the stump then stepped back as he chopped it. His breath huffed out in front of him and the tendons on his neck strained as he hoisted the heavy axe above his head.
“Hot work,” he said after a few minutes and several more logs. He wiped the back of his hand over his glistening brow and chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining. Back in Drangar, it’s hard to get hot this time of year.”
“How many people live in Drangar?”
“A few hundred, not including the children.”
“And it is by a river?”
He hit another log, splitting it into two perfectly equal halves. “It is on the shore of a fjord.”
“What is a fjord?”
“An inlet of water, with mountains either side.” He set down the axe and gripped the base of his tunic. In one swift movement, he pulled it up over his head and tossed it to the side, where it landed on a stack of the split logs.
Carmel swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen a man’s naked torso before—of course she had—but never one like Ravn’s. His muscles had muscles and his belly was a series of bricks. His pectorals were wide and defined and the round balls of his shoulders led to thick, bulging biceps; the right had a long scar. A strip of dark hair ran from his navel to his pants and his left nipple was pierced with a silver bar.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What?”
She tore her attention away and grabbed another log to be split. “Here.”
In one smooth movement, he drew the axe over his head then crashed it down. Tendons flexed beneath his smooth, golden flesh and he grunted with the effort.
“Brother, what are you doing?” Orm appeared with his hands in the air. “That is the job of my thrall.”
“This axe is too heavy for her.” Ravn held the handle in both hands and tossed it upward before catching it. “You should be more thoughtful.”
“Huh, why do I need to be when you are here?” He tapped the side of his head. “Though it is not a trait I remember in you. Oh, no, you usually only think of yourself.”
Ravn huffed and indicated for another log.
