“Would it heal your relationship with Jorvik? Because I’m still ready to kill him,” he says, and I laugh. Killing something would be terribly wonderful right now.
“If Jorvik could see reason and want to make amends or understand what I want in life, then sure, I’d forgive him. But Shaw,” I take his shoulders so he looks at me from the bedside, “you can be forgiven by your family too.”
He crawls into the bed next to me, passing me a cup of steaming tea, and we listen to the wind gusts rattling in between the long planks of wood.
“If the snow lets up this afternoon, I’ll fire up the forge.” He is quick to change the subject past our family troubles. I haven’t thought much about Jorvik the past few days or the women. The panic that bursts through my body thinking about them is too great. Coming to terms with relearning Skadi’s history is challenging enough.I have her bow and am learning to use it.I take a sip of the pungent tea.
We lay in bed throughout the morning, talking about all sorts of things, including our childhoods. From the first hunt we ever went all the way to the the worst injury we ever had. His intrigue prompts me to lift my tunic and show him the crescent scar over my ribs, left by a grumpy bear.
His eyes become a decadent swirl of gold and hazel as I pausewith half my body exposed. His finger traces the thin white line under my breast.
“Did you kill it in the end?” Shaw asks.
Forcing cold air through my nose, I answer, “Yes, I wasn’t alone though. We hunted in a group. Mostly women and a few men.”
He takes the tunic and lowers it over my body, but the effects of being so close and comfortable have already taken hold. My nipples are hard peaks, and the amulet resting on the chain is pulsing heat over my skin. Shaw’s hand drifts down my stomach to peel the now dry rags away.
“Shaw.” I say his name for no reason. I have no idea if I am telling him I want more or less. Kissing my stomach so gently, he laughs against my skin and throws his arm around my waist to hold me tight.
“You’re very flighty today. Tell me if I’ve done something to make you feel ashamed?” He rests his chin in between my breasts. His solid, heavy body over mine is too nice, too sweet, and it makes me overthink what he truly wants.
“Let’s get up before we lose a whole day of practice.” I run my hands down his muscular back.
“There’s plenty a virgin could practice in a bed.” He actually growls this time, and it ignites my core to the point of throbbing.
“Don’t tempt me,” I murmur as he moves to accommodate his pants around his erection. Not saying a word, he grabs clothes and walks out, giving me a moment to prepare myself for the day. Lately, I’ve been fighting the urge to fall for him – to fall for wanting more than my life in the clan. I know Shaw is not of this realm. What if I cannot follow him to his home? What if making the last two links to connect the chain takes him away from me?
While we eat, Shaw lets the kiln heat. When the wind takes a respite from howling through the forest, we walk outside to his forge. He pulls folding wooden walls around the back half of the space to protect us from the snow, thrilling the goats with the new warmth billowing up and around the forge.
“This is all the ore I have left. We will have to go into the mountains to get more when we can travel.” He hands me the samepouch he had in Harald’s village, and I drop the tiny pieces of silver and gold into my palm. “To make a link, you have to willingly give something of yourself,” he instructs.
I take a small knife out of its sheath. “Like my blood?” Asking makes him set his long tools down and walk over to where I am at the workbench.
“What do you want to give? What is uniquely yours that I would recognize anywhere?” he asks as I watch his eyes wander over my braided, red hair. Loosening the tie on the end, I unwind the layers of the red plait and take a chunk from the bottom. The knife is razor sharp, cutting through a section no bigger than the length of my thumb without any effort, and I hand him the red lock.
“Good choice.” He adds it to the crucible along with the ore. The amulet is singing against my chest, like it knows the ritual is beginning without being told. Taking the necklace off, I open the top and hold it out for Shaw.
“That is our blood, Rasha. Are you sure?” He holds the open crucible over the smoldering fire so the contents begin breaking down.
“I know it belongs in the link. I can feel it.”
“Yes, but do you want to accept that feeling? Every time we use the bond, it strengthens it.”
“I do.” I take a small iron spoon to ladle half of our blood into the crucible. The colors of my red hair, the silver and gold ore, and the mixed blood from the amulet combine, melting into a swirling current.
My blood simmers, urging my body onward through the ritual. I take a pair of gloves to protect my hands, but the unwavering sound of the flames spurs me to set them down. Holding my hand over the blurry edges of the fire, I wait for pain to come, but it doesn’t.
“It’s already taking effect.” Shaw glances at me, tempting fate over the fire. “Put on the gloves in case you lose focus for a moment. I’d rather you not singe off your skin.”
I put the gloves on, following his instructions on how to turn the crucible so it melts evenly. We work together to keep the forge burning hot and prepare the clay mold for the cast.
Shaw tells me all the ways to make a normal sword or a knife, which I find endearing. Instead of telling me to clean up after him or stay out of his way like men I’ve worked with before, Shaw is eager to teach me.
“What makes the weapons I sell to Harald better than those made in the village is that I use animal bones to give the smelt every possible advantage when extracting metal from the ore. Honoring the animal in the ritual binds its strength to the metal.”
“Does Harald know?” I ask, happy that Shaw is growing more comfortable talking.
“No one knows. That is one reason why I live alone, but still make a profit. I don’t spill my secrets.” He nudges me with his elbow. We set the tools deep inside the molten hot kiln and step back.
