Gyda’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “And with each passing week, she heals just a little more. As I said, a survivor, that one. Perhaps more resilient than you think.” Her eyes met his, pure mischief shining from within. “I see you’re sharing a bed now.”
“It is not like that,” Rey said sharply. But he paused, mid-chew, the memory of her body pressed against his so vivid, his skin heated.“She’s not meant for a man like me, Gyda.”
“What doesthatmean?”
He swallowed the last of the sweet roll, sending his bestaxe eyesat her. “I’ve done too many terrible things. I’m no good for a woman like her.”
Clearly unconvinced, Gyda set the spindle turning with a brisk flick of the wrist.
“I’m akiller, Gyda.”
“But your heart?—”
“Is made of ice. I am not capable of softness. I excel in cruelty and violence.”
She merely shook her head.
“I am what I am.” Rey scowled. “And that is unsuitable for her. Best you understand it.” Snatching another sweet roll, he stormed into the yard.
His feet faltered.
Vig’s broad form was wrapped around Silla. With one hand on her hip, the other skimming along her collarbone, Vig’s mouth was right beside her ear, saying something in a low voice. Silla nodded in reply.
Curls pulled back from her face showcased the pink apples of her cheeks; the graceful curve of her neck. And her eyes, gods, those eyes could make a manforget his own name. Dark, yet always sparkling, set between long sweeping eyelashes.
Was the light playing tricks, or was she always this gods damned beautiful?
But that palm on her collarbone made a hot, poisonous feeling slide through Rey’s veins. He wanted to snatch Vig away from her—wanted to drive his fist into his friend’s jaw.
The goat screeched, breaking the moment.
Silla smiled, those eyes daring to brighten as they landed on Rey. His knees felt weak, his heart pounding too hard.
“Good morning, Rey,” she said, and he could have sworn the pink of her cheeks swept down her neck. Was she thinking of the night before? The tenderness they’d shared? No. Shewas notflushing. But his cock unfortunately noticed, throbbing eagerly and flooding his blood with a single, cycling word.
Her. Her. Her.
“Fuck,” Rey muttered, grateful that his lébrynja armor covered his stupid, single-minded appendage.
“Vig is teaching me about Blade Breaker intuition,” she said spryly. “Did you know it is much like Ashbringer intuition but expressedinside you?”
Gaze snapping to Vig, he found his friend’s eyebrow quirked, lips curved up in a knowing smile. Rey tried to school his face into an impassive look, but knew it was too late.
“Fuck,fuck,” Rey muttered with an inward groan.
Vig’s fingers trailed along Silla’s collarbone, watching Rey as he mouthed, “Liar.” Gods, but Rey had never wanted to punch someone so badly in his life.
“Burning, Vig calls it,” continued Silla, oblivious. “He burns his galdur into energy and energy into strength. It happens so swiftly he hardly needs to think of it.”
“I know how it works.” Rey glowered.
Silla’s teeth sank into her soft lower lip.
Hábrók’s hairy arse. He forced his gaze to Helga the goat, gnawing on the longhouse’s siding, then to the dung heap across the yard. Anything but her…lips…
But she was still talking. “Curiously, burning galdur does not feel the same for Vig as it does for me,” Silla said absently.
“What do you mean?” said Rey, again too sharply.
