Except that would be the act of a coward who’d rather lie and pretend than own the truth, and that wasn’t who I was. Or rather, that wasn’t who I wanted to be.
“It wasn’t nothing. Not—” My voice cracked, my chest painfully tight. “Not to me.” My eyes burned and though the last thing I wanted to do was cry, I could sooner have stopped my heart from beating than hold my tears in check, hot droplets rolling down my cheeks. “I wanted to do what we did. Wanted you.”
Bjorn went still, not even seeming to breathe.
I tried to suck in a breath to calm myself but my whole body shuddered. I was supposed to be a warrior. A leader. The woman who’d unite Skaland beneath the rule of a king. Yet I couldn’t get through a conversation without crying like a child. “I know you know this,” I said, struggling to speak without my breath catching on every word. “That you’re excusing my actions to spare me shame and make things easier for us both. I know I should feel grateful for that, but…”
“Freya.” His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing away my tears, but I pushed him away because his touch would shatter what remained of my composure.
“I am married to Snorri.” The words came out in a rush of breath, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “He is your father, and while you might not always see eye-to-eye, I know you are loyal to him. Which means my behavior disrespected you both. You were trying to protect me, whereas I…I…”
Then Bjorn’s lips were on mine.
I gasped, my eyes snapping open as my back struck the wall of the ravine. His hands caught my wrists, holding them above my head even as his hips pressed hard against mine, holding me in place. “Bjorn—”
He silenced me, tongue delving into my mouth and stroking over mine, stoking the heat that had already ignited between my thighs. “I,” he whispered, biting at my jaw, then my throat. “I, I, I, Freya. You love that word because you relish taking the blame for everything, whether it is your fault or not.”
My eyes shifted left, looking down the ravine, because all it would take was one of the hunters or foragers seeing for us to be doomed. We needed to stop this. But as he ground against me, any thought of leaving evaporated.
“I came up with the plan. I kissed you first.” His mouth claimed mine, sucking and stroking and biting. “I touched your perfect breasts.” He pressed my left wrist against my right, gripping them both easily with one hand so that he could run the other up my side, his thumb rubbing over my peaked nipple.
His stubbled cheek brushed against mine, his breath tickling my ear as he said, “And don’t you dare tell me that it was respect for my father that you felt pressed between your thighs that night.”
It hadn’t been then. And it wasn’t now.
No, what I felt was the thick ridge of his hard cock pressing through his trousers as he lifted me with one arm, putting me back where I’d been that night in Fjalltindr. Desire throbbed at the apex of my thighs, and I ground against him, hunting the release I’d been denied before.
Bjorn groaned into my throat and released my wrists. Freed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, unfastening the tie holding his hair and then tangling my fingers into its silken lengths.
Why couldn’t I resist him? Why was I so cursedly weak?
Bjorn gripped my arse with one hand, holding me in place against him, his other hand cupping the side of my face. “Not burying my cock inside you that night almost broke me,” he growled. “I wanted you the moment I first set eyes on you. I wanted you in Fjalltindr. I want you now, and tomorrow, and all the tomorrows, Freya.”
His breath seared my skin as he said my name. As he said the words that had echoed through my darkest fantasies about my deepest desires. Not just one time but every time.
Gods, but I wanted this. Wanted him.
The crunch of footfalls on the forest floor split the silence and we both jerked away from each other, Bjorn casting his eyes upward. Neither of us spoke for a long time, then he muttered, “Was just a deer.”
But the moment was broken, allowing reason to return. I scrubbed the tears from my face, then met his gaze, my voice finally steady. “If we do this once, it will open a door. And it will happen again and again until we inevitably get caught. Because we will get caught. Already Bodil is suspicious.”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.
“When Snorri finds out, he’ll hurt my family, possibly murder one of them. He’ll execute or banish you.” I lifted my chin. “But I’m too irreplaceable to kill, which means I’ll have to live with the guilt that those I care about most are dead because I couldn’t curb my lust.”
If only it was just lust.
Lust I could control, lust I could satiate in other ways, but the feelings growing in my heart? Those sought only one release and they spun wildly out of control.
“Freya…” He caught hold of my arms, lips parting as though he would argue, but found himself without an argument.
“Stay away from me, Bjorn,” I whispered. “Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me, because you now belong to the ranks of people whose lives depend on my good behavior. And if I fall to temptation, it will be the doom of us all.”
Then, because I knew if I remained any longer that I’d crack, I turned on my heel and splashed my way down the stream to the fjord.
* * *
—
“There’s a spy in our midst.”
My voice was more toneless than I intended, but it felt like if I allowed any emotion loose they’d all explode out of me.
Bodil crossed her arms, clearly angry that I’d wandered, but I ignored her and added, “The specter appeared to me again and brought me to the forest to show me where a message had been left using runic sorcery.” I explained everything that had happened, only leaving out Bjorn’s appearance.
Snorri had looked ready to strangle me when I appeared, but now his anger vanished. “Did it speak to you?”
“It only told me to look,” I said, the echo of the specter’s strained voice filling my head.
“Where is Steinunn?” Snorri demanded, and when the skald approached, he caught her sleeve and hauled her forward. “This could be another trial. You need to hear what Freya has to say.”
The skald pulled free of his grip, then wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body before asking, “What did you see?”
I had to be careful, for everything I said to Steinunn could be revealed in one of her songs, and I had not forgotten Bjorn’s belief that she was spying on Snorri’s behalf. “The specter. I saw it up close. It was burned nearly down to the bone and speaking seems to cause it pain. Only its eyes were whole. They were”—human—“green. The color of leaves.”
A shudder ran through Snorri, and Steinunn stepped back in alarm as he dropped into a crouch, his head in his hands. “It’s her.”
“Who?” I demanded even as Ylva said, “You don’t know that.”
“There are too many coincidences to be denied.” Snorri looked up at Ylva, ignoring my question. “She foretold Freya’s coming, and the specter did not appear until Freya’s name was born in fire. She appears only to Freya.” His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “She burned alive, Ylva. Was only recognizable from the jewelry on her bones.”
Realization slapped me in the face even as boots splashed in the mud and Bjorn approached the group, his arms crossed and eyes shadowed. “I see Freya decided to return.”
No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe.
Snorri slowly straightened. “The specter appeared to Freya and led her to proof we have a spy in our midst. I…I believe the specter is your mother.”
Bjorn didn’t so much as blink, only lifted a shoulder and said, “It seems she is loyal to you even beyond the grave, Father.”
“Yes.” Snorri looked away. “Or else tied to Freya’s fate.”