At least she found the source of the pipe tobacco, and it is only a stranger, rather than a Drengr, stalking her.
He shifts his weight, allowing a streak of lamplight to illuminate half of his face, lined with aged scars. His eyes are like the clear, light blue of crystallized ice. When they meet hers, there is a twinkling of amusement.
“Is there a reason you are disturbing my ship, girl?” He questions in a voice so smooth and deep it resonates in the pit of her soul. Another smoke ring billows into the center of the haul, yet he makes no move to reprimand her trespassing.
She is frozen to the floorboards, gazing at the mystery man shrouded in twilight. Something akin to terror brews in her as she takes in the man's appearance, which suggests that he eats other men for his morning meal.
“Apologies, Sir. " The words tumble out in a rush. “It appears I am aboard the wrong ship.”
“You are here for a reason. State it.” His command holds not a drip of animosity, only a firm request for her willing obedience.
Drawn like a moth to a flame–all her rage temporarily abandoned–her legs inch her forward as if of their own free will.
Further along the dock, a Toftlund guard passes by with a burning torch, casting an orange glow on the sailor, who appears wrapped in the night itself. From his trousers to his armor, he could melt into the evening with his black attire.
His sleeves are rolled up to his inked, muscled forearms, resting on his thighs. Clutched in a rough hand is a long-stemmed pipe, the wood resembling the unique blackwood trees around her home.
In the torchlight, she can discern his ruggedly handsome features scarred from winters of battle. She expects him to have an impressive Salt Warrior plait and is shocked to find his mahogany hair lined with gray and closely cropped, matching his impressively thick beard, which is also heavily dosed with salt and pepper.
He is not of Salt nor a mere sailor. Based on his helm, he is likely a Jarl of Skalor.
When he remains stoically silent at her approach, she feels her heart rate quicken, and she admits it is time to leave the harbor.
She carefully steps over the side and onto the pier.
In her haste, her slippered feet slide along the wet wood.
Ah, shit!
Aura’s stomach somersaults as she falls backward, her arms flailing about as her back crashes into the hull, her nightgown now tugged up and over her breasts.
“Ouch.” She groans while humiliation burns through her nearly naked figure, sprawled out in such a compromising position.
Use the stones!
“Grandpapi Briny, let me turn invisible!”
Nothing happens.
Shit.
Before she has a chance to recover, she feels the rocking of the vessel as the stranger’s heavy footsteps shake the boards before hovering over her exposed body. In the faint street light, his cold eyes pervade the darkness.
Once again, her lips part, attempting to explain herself, yet only inaudible noises emanate. Damn, if her nipples did not pebble at the sight of his broad shoulders casting a vast shadow over top of her.
He crouches with a faint tug at the corner of his mouth. “That looked painful.”
Aura brushes the fabric of her nightgown over her bare body in a grasp at some aspect of decorum. Goosebumps creep along her arms and legs as his frostbitten gaze appraises her curves as if he were a man starved and she a full-course meal.
Her heart thunders at his hungry expression, a heated desire that reaches into her abdomen and evokes a heavy response from her arousal. Before she can process the fire burning under her skin, he extends his large hand, inked with faded Salt runes and symmetrical lines.
Blushing and feeling more ridiculous at her reaction, she gentlyplaces her hand into his calloused palm. For an unknowable reason, she anticipates cold skin and is pleasantly surprised by his warmth. If she knew any better, she would have thought he had emerged from the bottomless pit of the Abyss.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as she struggles to keep her footing, lest she look the fool again. She lifts her lashes to drink him in, unable to turn away.
His gaze isn’t simply cold.
It is unflinching.
