Njord sighed deeply, and Thori could only guess at the grief he was carrying. All Thori’s fault, and he would never be able to make up for it.
“I could—” He stumbled over the words, knowing full well that they were inadequate, but he forced himself to say them anyway. “When Sveinn arrives, I could help with my thunder. If you’ll allow it.”
Njord froze.
“Are you asking me to remove your collar?”
There was a dangerous note to Njord’s voice that had Thori shudder for mostly inappropriate reasons. He was aware of what he must sound like. As if he were asking for freedom, for the chance to turn his power against Njord the moment the collar came off.
“No,” Thori said. “I’m not asking you to remove the collar.”
“Whatareyou asking then, Thunderer?”
“You could just…lend my thunder. Like you did during the council. Tap into my power.”
Njord didn’t answer, and Thori’s chest tightened with shame. Stupid. Of course, as the master of storms and seas, Njordwouldn’t bother with a weapon as unreliable as the power of another god. Thori was still his enemy, still nothing but a thrall—
Njord flipped him onto his back so quickly that Thori yelped in surprise. Fingers tangling in his hair, Njord kissed him, deep and demanding. And with a small sound he’d be embarrassed about later, Thori melted into the contact.
“You’d do that?” Njord whispered against his lips. “You’d let me use your power?”
“Yes.”
“Norns,” Njord breathed, looking at him with bright, marveling eyes. “You’re even braver than your sagas claim. And so noble.”
More, Thori wanted to say.Please. Tell me I’m good. Tell me I’m enough.He could’ve curled up in Njord’s embrace and never left if only Njord kept talking to him like this.
“Do you want to try it?” Thori mumbled, suddenly shy. “I mean, we should make sure you can tap into my power before the battle. Just to be safe—”
Njord fixed him with a dark look that had heat pooling in Thori’s belly.
“What do you have in mind?”
Exhaling a shuddering breath, Thori closed his eyes. He needed to convince Njord that he was serious about helping to defend Nóatún, so he reached for the thunder living under his skin. It came easily, like a well-trained hunting dog. The collar around his throat hummed, containing his thunder but not suppressing it, and Thori let the power build.
“Take it,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet Njord’s gaze. “It’s yours.”
He could feel Njord reaching out, the power of storm and sea contained oh-so carefully, taking over with gentleness instead of crippling force.
Thori gasped.
Lightning crackled between them, bluish-white and beautiful, and Njord guided it with the same ease he commanded the tides. It danced across Thori’s skin, the sensation foreign and pleasurable.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Thori shook his head. “Feels…good.”
Njord kissed him again, and it felt like coming up for air after he’d been drowning. Brushing from his shoulders down to his flanks, Njord’s touch left trails of lightning in its wake, and Thori arched into the caress with a moan.
“Do you have any idea how stunning you are?”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Beautiful. Brave. Cunning.”
Thori shivered.
“Please—”
