“I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely regretful.
Curving both hands around my cheeks, he lifts my face. “It’s okay. You’re not ready. Someone hurt you.”
I part my lips to ask how he knows, but he answers before I can get the words out.
Sweeping his thumbs under my eyes, he stares deep into them. “It’s written deep in your eyes, pretty Freja. It’s okay. I enjoy what we have very much. I’m in no rush. But if you want to tell me what happened, I’d be happy to listen. Maybe it could ease that heavy weight you’re carrying around.”
Swallowing hard, I blink back and forth between Asbjörn’s eyes, trying to decide whether I should open up. We’ve been playing together for four months. Despite my ruined ability to trust, I do trust this man. Not necessarily on that deep level that is required in a relationship, but I trust him without a flicker of hesitation to carry me through a scene safely and bring me deeper into this new world at a steady pace, reading my reactions perfectly and somehow always knowing what new thing I’m ready for.
And Asbjörn proves exactly why I trust him as he patiently waits, just watching me calmly and stroking my cheeks. I feel like I have all the time in the world. I close my eyes and soak up the sensation. Asbjörn is safe and steady. Powerful and protective. I let his energy carry me as I open my eyes and say, “My fiancé cheated on me.”
Tears well up the moment I let the words out, and I snap my eyes shut again. But more words tumble out, uncontrollable now that I’ve opened the gate to the hurt. “We had set a date. We had even signed the papers for a house. But one night, I made thestupid decision to surprise him at his office. And that’s when I found him with his secretary.” I choke back a sob. “I wish—”
Giving a small shake of my head, I stop myself. I’ve shed more than enough tears over Gustav. And I can’t bear to make myself that vulnerable with Asbjörn. I’m already pushing my boundaries with the way I open up to him during scenes and when I cling to him afterward, shaking and shuddering as the intense effects rip through me.
“I’m glad you decided to surprise him,” Asbjörn whispers.
I snap my eyes open, and the depth of sincerity I find in his warm gaze stuns me as much as his words.
“You deserve a man who will walk through fire and step in front of a bullet for you. Not some weakling who has to collect conquests just to stroke his brittle ego.”
A well of something powerful rushes through me. Warmth. Desire. Maybe even hope—that such a man could exist. As I keep watching Asbjörn, I think such a man might even be standing right in front of me.
Questions rush through my mind. Should I open up? Give him a chance? Put my heart on the line?
My head tells me this man would be worth it, but when I dig deeper in my heart, I’m not ready. But I don’t know if it’s because of the deep hurt or something else. The wounds Gustav left are still there, gaping and glaring, but there’s something else too. Something that tugs and pulls.
I try not to examine it further, not ready to find out what it is, so I’m grateful when Asbjörn changes direction.
“Why don’t we skip play tonight? We can just sit and talk instead—about anything you’d like.” He nods toward the empty sofas close to the bar. “I’d enjoy that.”
I look in the same direction. As much as I’m not ready for a relationship, I like Asbjörn. I’d love to get to know him better. So I nod. “I’d like that too.”
Asbjörn asks another man—one of the regulars with the same Viking vibes—to cover for him at the bar, and we retreat to the sofas with a steaming cup of tea for me and coffee for him. Then we spend the next two hours talking about everything and nothing.
I tell him about my job as an environmental consultant and how I was lucky to get to keep the job I had in Stockholm and work remotely, and I learn that he is a carpenter who builds houses and has recently expanded into making custom BDSM furniture. Then we talk about the club, how we each found our way into BDSM, and finally, this strange community that most members are part of.
I listen attentively and ask questions, finding myself surprisingly drawn to his lifestyle when he tells me about the community that I find out is more than just a loosely organized group. He tells me that many of the members live on an old farm at the foot of the mountain and that they own huge amounts of land. Over the years, they have built more houses and renovated, and while they live fully in the modern world and enjoy its comforts, they like to stay close to nature and the old ways—growing vegetables, hunting, and crafting their own things.
“I’d love to take you there sometime and show you the place,” he finally says.
My eyes light up. But then I remember what that might mean, and a frown knits my brows.
Asbjörn leans in to brush his knuckles over my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweet Freja. No strings attached. I just want you to see the place. I think you’d like the way we live and the atmosphere. If you feel like it, we can play—as casually as we do here at the club.” He brings his hand into my lap and takes one of mine. “You’ve told me where you stand, and I respect that. No strings attached. I promise.”
I breathe a quiet sigh that loosens my shoulders. “Okay. I’d love to go.”
A smile warms his face in a way that makes me want to sink into him. “I’m glad,” he says. “I think you’ll love it. How about tomorrow? Saturday is play night. You can’t participate directly since you’re not part of the clan, but you’d still get to feel the atmosphere and the charge in the air.”
Biting the side of my lip, I nod eagerly. Suddenly, I can’t wait. Although I’m not ready for a relationship, something about Asbjörn, his dominance, and the energy the whole group of Viking-like people exudes draws me in, and I can’t wait to get a deeper look at what it’s all about.
9
Elina
“Can I braid your hair after we’ve eaten?” Lea asks with a bright smile that lights up her eyes as she scoops green beans onto her plate. We’re seated at one out of several rustic dinner tables in a grand dining hall with long wooden beams overhead, wide windows looking out into the pines, and the comfortable chatter of people who know each other well.
“I’d love that.” I take in the intricate braids at the side of her head, her natural makeup, and the rune on her forehead. Her beautiful, deep green dress with a wide leather belt around her waist looks both modern and wild. Around her neck hangs Mjolnir—Thor’s hammer—and loop earrings adorn the sides of her face. Her style is somehow both anachronistic and modern, yet perfectly cohesive. “You really look gorgeous,” I say.
