Page 42 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

RAGNAR

T he very air in the tent is heavy…thick with anticipation for what we are about to do.

Lined with thick furs and thermal cloth, lit from within by a lantern powered by a cracked, still-functioning cell from the Stormcaller. The scent inside is clean snow and Kanin pines—Skoll comforts, familiar ones.

Elena’s now, too.

My fenvarra stands near the entrance, cheeks flushed from the cold and from how I spoke to her before the clan. She’s breathing hard, trying to look composed, but her pulse beats visibly at the base of her throat.

I can scent her anticipation…her arousal.

I need her naked, close, moaning for all our crew to hear.

“You look nervous,” I observe as I kneel to open the crate. Elena is twisting her hands in front of her, chewing on her lip. I want to stop her, to occupy her lips.

She clears her throat.

“I guess I’m just…” she pauses, brow furrowed. “…is this like, a forever thing? Not that I don’t…we just don’t really know each other that well and it feels like this is a really permanent kind of thing and?—”

I stand, leaving the crate partially open, and I move to take Elena’s hands. The space is small for me, and I cross it in a few easy strides, but it’s a reminder of how small she is that this tent is nearly cavernous around her.

“Elena,” I murmur. “I know that you have experienced…males that do not stay, or that bind females to contracts. I know humans have different customs than the Skoll. But you should know—any commitment you have to me is wholeheartedly yours to give or revoke at any time.”

I bring her hand up to my lips to kiss her knuckles, one by one.

“Males of my species earn our place at our mate’s side,” I continue. “I will earn your love each morning and each night until the day I die.”

Elena’s fingers uncurl against mine, no longer tight and knotted, just…tentative.

“I don’t want to revoke it,” she breathes. “I just want to know what I’m stepping into.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Then let me show you.”

I keep her hand in mine and guide her toward the crate, where I release her and kneel once again.

The first piece I pull is a torque of etched metal, glimmering in the light—a Skoll captain’s vowband, meant to be worn by their fenvarra on ceremonial occasions.

I hold it out, and her lips part slightly as she takes it, fingers grazing the etchings.

“It says…” she pauses as the translation flickers to life. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“‘Most beloved,’” I recite. “‘We welcome you to this hearth, to be loved and worshiped.’”

“Is that what they all say?” she asks.

I shake my head “It’s a personalized message given to each child of a Skoll family—forged by my father, inscribed by my mother.”

She takes it with reverence. “I wish I could have met her. Did she…did you leave her behind?”

I shake my head with a sad smile. “She died before I even left Kanin…but she would have liked you.”

“Are you supposed to put it on me or…”

“You put it on yourself,” I tell her. “Only if you wish to. And you are entitled to take it off when you please.”

Elena swallows and nods, her fingers trembling just slightly as she lifts the torque. I rise only to push her hair back to make room for it, to unzip her coat just so. I watch as she angles the band over her throat and settles it into place.

The sight nearly brings me to my knees.

My mate wearing my vowband.

She doesn’t look like she’s wearing something ancient; it looks like it was made for her. The curve of the torque fits perfectly along her collarbone, the inscription catching the light.

“I’m…I’m warm,” she says, as if she needs an excuse to undress before me when all I want is to have her naked before me. “Can I…”

Now, I do fall to my knees—reaching for the zipper of her coat as I go, helping her shed the bulky garment.

I took off my own coat long ago, warm enough even in the cold with my Skoll blood, but Elena is still swathed in colorful, modern fabrics.

Her sweater comes next, the two of us pulling it over her head, then she is unbuttoning my shirt to push it from my shoulders.

I take her hand to slow her.

“Reverence, Elena,” I tell her. “I want you—badly—but this moment requires reverence.”

I guide her hands away from my chest and press them to her sides instead, not to force her…but to ask her to let me do the work. Her breath hitches, pupils wide in the low light, but she nods, hearing me.

Reverence.

This is not just rutting. It is a rite.

A covenant.

I return to the crate and pull out the next piece: a stack of jeweled bracelets that jingle as I take them into my hands. I move to Elena and take one hand to extend her arm, then I slide them one by one onto her wrist.

“These were my sister’s,” I tell her quietly. “Passed to me when she chose to live alone, unmated. She wanted them to find a new home.”

“And you want me to have them?”

I smile. “Only if you wish to be adorned as mine.”

Elena lifts her other hand, and I take it in my hands, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before sliding the final bracelets into place. They sing softly as they settle, the delicate sound echoing in the tent despite the soft walls.

She swallows. “This is…pretty serious, huh?”

I nod. “There is nothing more serious to me than this.”

The bracelets shimmer in the light, catching against the etched torque at her throat. She looks radiant. Marked by my people, by my lineage, by my love.

I draw the last piece from the crate: a fine drape of chain and silk, worn low on the hips. The silk is remarkably well-preserved, bright cerulean that matches my tattoos with gold threaded through it.

“May I finish undressing you, Elena?” I ask, my cock already painfully hard.

“Yes,” she whispers, smiling slightly…as if there’s a laugh on the tip of her tongue. “You may.”

My hands find her hips and I undo the button and zipper, then slide my thumbs between the fabric and her warm, soft skin.

As I tug down her pants along with her underthings, I feel her shiver—but she doesn’t pull back.

She steps out of the last of her clothes and stands before me in nothing but the torque and the bracelets, glowing bronze in the lantern light.

I kiss one hip, then the other. Elena groans, the scent of her arousal filling the tent.

“You are radiant,” I whisper. I join the fine chain at her hip, the silk falling between her thighs. “And tonight…you will be worshiped.”