Warrior of the Wild(69)
Soren returns the feather to his pack before tugging on my hands. My head comes to rest against his shoulder.
“Is there a place for me by your side?” he asks quietly, tentatively. “While you inspire change and rule a village, will there be any room for me in your life?”
I smile, knowing he can’t see it. “You’re free to go home now. You can have your pick of all the girls back in Restin. I’m not your only option anymore. You wouldn’t want to restrict your attention to just one woman, now, would you?”
His hands go to my shoulders; they tug me back gently so he can look at me. I can tell he’s about to sputter off a series of protests, but then he sees my face. “You’re messing with me.”
I nod.
He brings his lips to my ear. “You might not be my only option anymore, but you’re the one I choose. My fierce warrior woman.”
“My helpless warrior man.”
“You’re never going to let me live down that ziken horde, are you?”
“Never.”
I’m startled by the sudden pressure of his lips against my forehead. It’s not like when I felt his lips against mine. The way I felt his heat and desire for me. This is different. It’s loving. Makes me feel precious. As though gifting him with myself is the best thing I could ever do for him.
After his lips linger against my brow, he lowers, kissing each of my closed eyelids, my cheeks, the corners of my mouth.
I get my hands on either side of his face and move him to just where I want. His lips sweep across mine. So slow and smooth and perfect.
Our lips don’t part until sometime much later.
We’re both gasping for breath.
“We need to douse the fire.”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about the literal fire behind me. No, in front of us.
When did I end up in his lap? How did we get turned around? And how is night already starting to creep up on us?
“Go douse it and come back, then,” I manage.
He shoots me a grin, and it takes away what little breath I’d been gaining back.
While he does that, I prepare the lean-to, arranging the blankets and packs just where we need them.
My heart is pounding when Soren joins me inside. I wonder desperately if he will kiss me again.
He does. One lingering kiss before settling himself beside me. His arms go around me, holding me close.
“It’s a good thing you’ve agreed to let me stay with you,” he says. “I don’t know if I could ever sleep without you in my arms.”
“Not used to sleeping on your own, are you?”
“I went a whole year on my own.”
“So there was a girl back in Restin,” I say.
Soren presses his lips to my forehead, just as he did before. “There weren’t any like you.”
* * *
MY NOSE WRINKLES BEFORE I even open my eyes the next morning. “What is that smell?” I groan and stretch my limbs. They’re sore from sleeping on the rock floor, from climbing this blasted mountain.
“I think that’s us.” Soren’s voice comes from just behind me. “We’ve been sweating our way up a mountain. I also think I might have gotten otti blood on my clothes.”
“Then we’d best find that stream today. Otherwise I don’t think I can share another lean-to with you.”
“You don’t exactly smell like flowers.”
I smack him playfully. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” he says. “And I’m not about to start. Even if it means I have to tell you, you smell.” His lips brush the back of my neck.
Oddly, it’s one of the most romantic things he’s ever said to me.
* * *
TRAVELING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN is so much quicker than the trip up. Unfortunately, it’s also much easier to stumble. We’ll be covered in bruises by the time we reach the bottom.
The otti feather is so long that it won’t fit in Soren’s pack all the way. The tip pokes out of the leather drawstring by at least five inches, following Soren down the mountain. His salvation.
Rocks skitter out of our way as we travel, some without us even kicking them. Curious, but I don’t think much of it as I put most of my focus into not falling down.
It doesn’t take long to find the stream (once we manage to navigate back around the invisible walls of the god’s power), and we start to follow it downhill, looking for a broader opening where we might fully bathe.
“Yesterday,” I say, “with the otti bird. I noticed you weren’t trying to kill it. You only injured it enough to make it flee.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m glad, even if it did take a swipe at me.” My hand ghosts over the bandaged wound.
“My mattugr was to steal a feather, not kill the bird. The otti wouldn’t have bothered us if we hadn’t come into her territory. She minds her own business. Only hunts when she needs to. Much less evil than the hyggja.”
I shudder. “That thing would eat anything that came close to its resting place, hungry or not. It was enough to make me wary of deep water.”
“And Peruxolo—he is evil incarnate,” Soren says. “He deserves to die for what he’s done to our people. You shouldn’t even hesitate to take his life when the time comes.”