Page 4

Kjartan

B eryl’s free hand skimmed down my arm, warm fingers tangling in mine.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he muttered, pressing his nose into the ridge between my pecs. “Can I hug you?”

I still didn’t understand why that delicate, beautiful man chose me of all people, but there was no way I wouldn’t jump at the opportunity he offered.

“Yes.” Slender arms wrapped around my waist, and he gave me my first hug in years .

Thor help me.

For a minute or two, I wasn’t sure I liked it at all. The parts of my body that hadn’t been touched by another hand since I left my homeland felt weird and wrong.

As if they don’t belong to me anymore.

“You feel great,” he murmured into my chest, snuggling closer without turning the hug into something more. Yet. “So solid and warm. Is this okay for you?”

Bee tilted up his face to check on me.

Maybe he realises that I’m barely breathing.

I nodded.

“Because you haven’t moved a muscle since I hugged you, and I’m over here getting kinda worried.” He huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“It’s okay. More than okay, Vindur,” I hurried to assure him. “I…I haven’t done any of that in a very long time.”

“‘Any of that’ as in ‘hooking up with a stranger’?”

“No, having someone touch me.” My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

His hand on my chest stilled. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea, then, Kjartan.”

Oh .

I loved how he said my name. Almost like Stígur and the others had.

Bee backed away, but I stopped him with my hand cupping his cheek.

A soft gasp escaped him, like a little gust of wind that ruffles your hair on a spring day. It fanned over my thumb as I traced that perfect bottom lip.

“No, Vindur, please.” I took half a step forward, conscious of the tiny limp in my left leg. I’d taken a blow to it in a fight, and it had never fully healed. “I know I suck at this, but it feels so good when you touch me.”

Another gasp, another step, and a slender body bumped into mine. He hugged me again, burying his face between my pecs.

“And I apologise for the platitude of what I am about to say. But it’s nothing you did. You are perfect. It’s not your fault I am…the way I am.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Beryl huffed again. “Are you going to tell me you can’t do this? Or that you don’t want any kind of commitment to someone else? I mean, fine with me, but I’d like to get my bingo card first.”

He lies. It’s not fine. But my little gust of wind is funny.

“None of these.” I leaned back and smiled down at him, smoothing out his furrowed brow with my thumb. “I am just asking for a bit of patience, if you can give me that.”

“It’s never been my strong suit,” he muttered, chasing my touch when I pulled my hand away. I palmed his nape. “But I can try.”

His lips were soft against mine. Bee groaned. He fisted handfuls of my jumper at my back and urged me closer, as if he wanted to get under my skin.

I feared I would hurt him, but my worries evaporated when a slick tongue darted over my lips. It touched my tusks, and he moaned. Then that tongue demanded to be let into my mouth. I admitted it.