Val crossed his arms over his chest, wings drawn back, and scowled down at her. “Keely, when I married Alanna, you became my sister. So, I’m going to do what any big brother would do and ask you, are you completely sure you want this? You know that we’ll support you. That you’re our family now. I don’t think the last few weeks—”
“Yes.” She cut him off. “I’m sure.”
She was sure. This was all she’d wanted. For them to try. To give it a chance and see where this connection between them might go. And for the pea to know its da.
Val glared at Tor behind her, and for a long moment, no one said anything. Slowly Val’s grim face relaxed, and he reached out to clap Tor on the shoulder. “Alright then. Welcome to the family.”
Behind her, she felt Tor’s muscles go rigid. He was exhausted, and now Val had, unwittingly, reminded him of what he’d lost. Bard. She was finally starting to truly understand him. To understand that Val’s casual statement meant something far more serious to Tor. Tor, who never showed his emotions. Who always needed his control.
But she could help. She could get him somewhere to rest and take a few moments. “Can we get some hot water? Tor’s been on the road for days.”
Alanna requested for the nearest guards to fill a basin in Keely’s room and then, after a glance at Keely, declared that she wanted to stay at the farmhouse and continue their journey the next day.
Alanna didn’t even pretend it was for any other reason than to give them time together, but when she pulled Val and the others away to plan a hunt for their dinner and then ordered everyone out of the camp, Keely couldn’t feel anything except thankful.
Within minutes the others were gone, and they could let themselves into the farmhouse alone. She led him to her small room. Pale winter sunlight filtered in through a high window, turning the dust in the air into glowing, dancing specks. A basin had been filled and placed on a rickety old table, and the steam from the water curled and billowed.
Tor pushed the door closed behind him and then shrugged out of his cloak and hung it on the hook on the back of the door.
For a moment, Keely felt strangely uncertain. It was so much easier to get swept away in the moment, to allow passion and desire to drive her. But this was something else—this was a decision that they were both making.
Tor pulled the ties from his vambraces and dropped the heavy leather to the floor with a groan of relief. His jerkin followed, and then his cotton shirt, until he was standing in front of her, naked from the waist up, his wide shoulders rippling with heavy muscle. His strong pecs were dusted with wiry black curls, the twining tattoos up his arms seeming almost alive in the soft light. And all her worries faded.
He pulled off his boots and socks, then loosened the top button of his leather breeches and padded over to the water.
He lifted the small washcloth, dipped it in the water, and then used it to scrub his face. A drop of water ran down the side of his throat, following the tendons to his clavicle and her eyes followed its progress before dropping down further.
Her mouth went completely dry, but the rest of her was melting.
Keely forced herself to look away and slide out of her cloak. Hang it beside his. Pull her boots off one at a time. She slid her jerkin off and dropped it beside her satchel. All while her entire body tingled with awareness.
She took a step closer to him, and he turned, his short hair sticking up in damp spikes, his face scrubbed clean, dark chest hair trailing down to the open top of his breeches. And she forgot how to breathe.
“Do you want this, Keely?” he asked softly. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.” She didn’t just want it. She needed it. Needed this to be a clear choice. Not a moment of lust driven by fear and grief.
“Then come here.” His voice wrapped around her, heavy and demanding, and she stepped slowly forward.
His dark eyes fixed on her green blouse. “Take it off.” She blinked, but her fingers reached for the ties.
He watched her silently, his eyes hotter than the darkness at the center of a flame.
She slipped out of her shirt and threw it to the side, then wriggled down out of her leather breeches, and then stood, waiting.
She didn’t know what she was waiting for. Or how she knew it was what he wanted. But he was watching her with such open appreciation, that she stood still and let him look. His heavy-lidded eyes traveled slowly over her, pausing on her swollen breasts, down her belly, and then to the triangle of red-blond hair at the apex of her legs.
His wicked lips pulled up and he stepped forward to wrap his big fingers around her chin and tilt her head up, his eyes locked on hers. And then, so slowly that she could feel the heated air rippling between them, he lowered his mouth over hers.
She sagged into him as his strong arms came around her, pulling her into him and holding her up as his mouth dominated hers.
He let out another long, harsh groan, and she realized that this was what he needed. What they both needed. He wanted to stay in control. And for once in her life, she wanted to be able to let go.
She had only slept with Niall a handful of times. Frantic, giggling couplings, under clothes, behind the shed, in the meadow. Both young and inexperienced, learning their way together.
Tor was nothing like that. He was dark and potent, as if all the emotions he never admitted, maybe even to himself, were boiling beneath his surface, powering his fierce intensity.
He lowered her gently into the pile of blankets on the floor, and she lay there, watching him as he stripped off his breeches and then kneeled.
