Their eyes met, and he watched with fondness how Thori struggled to focus, to shake off the haze of lust. Njord could relate.
“Don’t you—” Thori cleared his throat. “Don’t you like this? Me?”
How could such a proud, self-righteous bastard be so adorably insecure at the same time?
“Come here.”
Njord stood to shuck off his stained pants and pulled Thori to his feet with him. He was swaying, flushed with sex and embarrassment, and Njord slung an arm around his waist to support his weight. What was he to do with his enemy turned thrall?
Following a sudden need, inescapable like a maelstrom, Njord kissed him.
Thori stiffened in surprise, and for one gut-wrenching breath, Njord thought he’d made a horrible mistake. Then Thori meltedin his arms, returning the kiss with as much fervor as he could muster in his spent state. His lips were soft, and he tasted of mead. Had he managed to bring one of the other thralls to serve him?
Njord kissed him deeper, then retreated, tilting Thori’s head with a firm hand on his chin.
“Did you make someone serve you mead?”
Something mischievous glittered in Thori’s eyes.
“One of your serving maids took pity on me. I won’t say which one.”
Njord kissed him again, biting Thori’s bottom lip playfully.
“Insolent. We’ll have to work on your behavior.”
Thori’s eyes glazed over, and a small sound fell from his lips, and Njord had to fight the urge to push him down on the bed and have his way with him again. But first things first. Also, he wasn’t a lad of twenty winters anymore.
He pulled Thori toward the bath.
twenty-four
The Lady of the Chariot
Thori
Njord’s private bathing house was breathtaking, and Thori was a little miffed that while the room might not be more splendid than the beautiful halls of Asgard, it was undoubtedly…impressive. Walls of hewn black stone, windows looking out over the vast ocean, and a huge tiled bath to soak in. Luxuries beyond imagination in the halls of men.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Njord pull off his pants, stained with Thori’s release, and Thori allowed himself a moment to drink in the sight. His gaze followed the intricate tattoos covering Njord’s broad back: waves and whales, and longships tossed about by a storm. Njord opened his braid and shook his head so his long brown hair fell freely over his shoulders, and Thori longed to bury his hands in the dark strands, to press his lips to every inch of that sun-kissed skin.
They’d fought each other in battle, killed each other’s kin, and hurled words of hatred at each other. But he couldn’t loathe Njord anymore, although part of Thori resented that he’d enjoyed the spanking, that he’d loved Njord’s fingers inside him.But a larger, traitorous part of him liked everything about the fact that Njord had found a way to punish him and look after his needs at the same time. Could this be his way out of this mess? Could he charm the Lord of Nóatún into freeing him? Maybe even forge an alliance? His father wouldn’t like it, but Thori was tired of living up to Odin’s impossible expectations of greatness and warrior pride, while the Allfather had no qualms about debasing himself, committing atrocities, and indulging in all manner of carnal indulgences if they only served his purposes. Thori knew the stories; had watched his mother hide her sadness behind elegant grace and unwavering dignity.
“On what dark path do your thoughts wander,elskan?”
Thori blinked. He hadn’t realized that Njord had stepped in front of him, tilting Thori’s chin upward with a gentle touch. Exhaling a deep sigh, Thori melted into the touch, into the warmth Njord was radiating.
“My thoughts were in Asgard. But I’d rather be here. With you.”
Njord’s eyes widened, his expression morphing into something very soft, and suddenly Thori knew what he had to do. His sister Freyja would be proud of him.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked, reaching out.
Njord’s hair felt as soft as it looked, and Thori marveled at its thick, velvety structure.
“I want you to get warm. Come.”
Taking his hand, Njord guided him to the back of the room, where the black rock felt like a sea cave. Thori had expected to be led into the basin to soak, but Njord put a hand to the stone and mumbled words ofseiðrtoo quickly for Thori to understand properly.
“What are you—”
