“Thanks, you do too.”
“Thanks,” I parrot and tentatively smooth the fabric of my black tight-fitting dress with a deep cleavage that fits perfectly at the club. But here, it seems dull compared to all the bright, flowing dresses cinched with leather belts and threaded with decorative lacing. I’m a bit jealous. Even with the ancient symbols, the leather, and the hints of a bygone era, nothing about them feels like a costume or reenactment. They blend it allseamlessly with modern fabrics and contemporary style, turning it into something that feels wholly their own.
The men bear the same mix, most wearing black button-up shirts or T-shirts, lots of leather and silver bracelets with ancient symbolism, and either fancy leather shoes or boots. They wear braids too, though in wilder, more masculine styles.
Asbjörn leans in and strokes my hair behind my shoulder. “You could wear rags and still look gorgeous,” he whispers in response to my unspoken insecurity. He trails his hand down my arm, and the goose bumps rising beneath his touch make me hum. “Actually, it’s a good thing you’re not, because I’d be tempted to simply rip them altogether.”
Heat seeps into my cheeks and swirls at my core. My whole body seems to be humming. It doesn’t help when I look around and see Doms gripping their sub’s neck possessively or watching them with direct intent. The air is charged with sexual energy, power, and a sense of freedom that loosens my own inhibitions as effectively as three drinks would. So I don’t protest when Asbjörn leans closer and presses tiny kisses to my neck. I just close my eyes and tilt my head to welcome his ministrations.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
When I open my eyes again, I find Evelina patiently holding a platter full of meat beside me, spearing one while flashing me a bright grin. “Moose?” she asks, lifting the piece toward my plate. “Asbjörn shot it.”
“Oh, wow. Yes. Thank you.” I give her a shy smile as she drops the piece onto my plate.
She passes the platter on to Asbjörn at my other side, then leans in and whispers, “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in here.”
Me too,I want to say, but I don’t quite dare to give voice to it, afraid of getting my hopes up and becoming disappointed in the end.
“Next time Asbjörn invites you here, let me know. I’ll help you with a dress.” Her green eyes light up with an idea. “Oh, we can make a girl’s night out of it. Lea and I will find you a dress and do your hair. We’ll make colorful drinks and listen to Taylor Swift.”
“And Aurora,” Lea adds, bobbing her head eagerly.
Asbjörn points a finger at Lea, “Thatis not just girl music.”
She snickers. “The big bad Viking likes Aurora.”
Toke squeezes Evelina’s thigh. “Not too many drinks if you want to be whipped.”
Evelina pouts at him, then turns to me with eager anticipation.
“I’d love that,” I say, excitement coursing through my body and making my toes dance in my shoes. I really enjoy being with these people. “That is, if it’s okay, since I’m not part of the group, you know.”
“Don’t worry, you will be soon,” she says with a meaningful look as if she’s privy to something.
I’m about to ask what she means when the chatter suddenly simmers down. The room goes quiet in a matter of seconds, and everyone stands.
Asbjörn takes me by the hand and guides me to my feet with him.
“Eyes down,” he instructs quietly.
A rush goes through the room, and I breathe quietly as I bow my head and wait.
Footsteps sound somewhere in the distance, slow and measured. They pause, then continue down the long passage between the benches, coming closer to where I stand.
The air crackles, and a powerful energy wraps around me, slowing my breath and heightening my senses. A prickling sensation creeps over my skin, familiar and insistent.
I want to turn and look even as I want to drop my head even further. But I can’t seem to move. I simply tighten my grip on Asbjörn’s hand, and I’m grateful for the steady reassurance he provides with strokes of his thumb over my skin.
The approaching man stops behind us, and I feel Asbjörn turn and reach over our connected hands to shake Ulf’s hand. Then he turns toward the table again.
Thinking Ulf is about to move on, I gasp when a big hand slips onto my waist, firm but gentle. Ulf’s scent wraps around me as he steps right up behind me—pine and primal masculinity. It’s a scent I’ve only inhaled in brief moments, but it’s already embedded deep in my memory, sparking instant recognition and desire, just the same as his touch.
He’s so close I can feel the heat emitting from his body. He tightens his grip. Like I belong to him. The gesture does a number on my brain—my body. My muscles soften, my grip on Asbjörn’s hand too. I sway into Ulf’s touch, my whole being gravitating toward him.
His breath billows against my ear as he leans in and says, “Welcome.” It’s just one word, but it seems to convey so much more. He keeps his grip tight for another moment, stabilizing me in the sudden chaos he has hurled me into.
Slowly, he loosens his grip, trailing over my side as he pulls away. And then he’s gone.
