Page 83

When he reaches for me, anticipation surges through my veins, shutting that mental voice right up.

Agnar scoops me up like I weigh nothing. One arm curves under my knees, and the other cradles my back. Despite the cold water beading it, his skin burns against mine, and his rigid chest flexes as he carries me across the uneven ground to the fire.

I press against him, skin to skin. I have no idea where to look at this point. I might actually be drooling. I draw on all my willpower to resist running my hands down his chest.

Lust leaves me mute, dumb, and limp. I should care about propriety. About the fact that I’m naked in his arms without a shred of dignity.

I don’t care in the slightest, not even about the fact that I should care. I want him, and everything else is noise.

Agnar sets me down near the fire with a gentleness that belies everything I just witnessed. His hands linger on my shoulders. He shakes me gently, scrutinizing my face. “Are you okay, Esme?”

Am I?

Is it possible to be okay when my body is this hot and I have no idea what to do with it? Tingles race down my limbs. Excitement swirls in my belly.

“Yes.” The answer comes out too quietly, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little…”

I don’t know how to finish that sentence. A little overwhelmed? Confused about why my body is responding to a near-death experience by wanting Agnar closer to me? Concerned that I’m sitting here naked and dripping and can’t even convince myself to care because he’s gazing at me like I matter?

Agnar mistakes my stammering for fear. Of course he does. What else would it be?

His expression softens, and he reaches up to push my damp hair back from my face. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” His other hand rubs slow, soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

In case his intention wasn’t clear, he keeps his eyes averted, giving me privacy I didn’t ask for.

The dam I didn’t realize I was holding crumbles, but I blink back the tears threatening to spill because I’m not a child and shouldn’t need his comfort.

But with everything falling apart, I need someone to tell me what to do.

For a single moment, I let my head drop onto his shoulder and try to soak up the care.

Agnar stiffens, and not in the good way.

Glancing up, I follow his gaze toward the tree line.

Three figures line the opposite shore, and they’re staring at us.

Agnar grabs for his sword again.

I recognize the woman’s thick blond braids before I see her face.

Margarida. Which means…

Behind her, Brennan approaches with the silent stride of a man accustomed to using stealth. Tobin, the boy with them who’s older and taller than when I last saw him, lifts his chin in a brief gesture of acknowledgment.

Relief blossoms in my chest so suddenly, I nearly laugh. After extracting myself from Agnar, I wave them over. “I know them.”

Margarida waves back, and then she points to a section of the river to silently convey that they’re going to cross and come join us.

And I’m still naked.

For Terro’s sake.

Maybe I should have let the monster eat me after all.

I rush upstream to where my clothes lie stretched out on the boulder. Dignity can wait. Modesty, not so much. I throw on damp fabric that clings to my wet skin. Still, any coverage is better than performing introductions with all my bits on display.

Agnar has covered that wondrous chest with his own tunic. Even with the blood saturating his wet pants, he appears calm and collected. His sword and dagger hang from his belt, and his attention remains locked on the nomads crossing the river.