So, she wasn’t unaffected by him. Good. Because he felt like he was losing his mind.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she breathed.
“When I take you for the first time, wife, you’ll be dripping for me. Not a single moment sooner.” He drew her hand back up his chest. “But your begging will need to be improved. Long before I give you what you want.”
They were both breathing hard, staring at each other as they realized just how far gone they were. He had always wanted a troll wife that would be his match in every way. If the seers saw something in her that meant she was the best option for him, then who was he to tell them they were wrong?
He’d keep her alive. For now.
“You live,” he said. “For as long as I wish you to live. But I would have you tell me your real name first.”
“My name is Maia.”
“Not the lie.”
She shook her head, her lips so close to his that he could feel her breath fanning across his tusks. “My name is Maia. I did not lie to you. I’ve never lied to you. Not about my love of flowers, not about who I am, and certainly not about my name.”
It was a start. He didn’t know why he believed her, but he did. Maybe it was the words of the witch sinking in. The woman who was meant for him wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. But, at his core, he knew it wasn’t just that.
This woman hadn’t complained once on the journey here. She had proven herself stalwart and enduring, even if she wasn’t brave or fierce like his people. And perhaps there was some merit in that.
“Good,” he breathed. “We start here today then, wife. No lies between us.”
“Are you agreeing to be my husband? Really?”
He sighed. “I rarely go back on my word, but yes. You were born for me, fire hair. And so I will keep you.”
ChapterThirteen
MAIA
Maia sat in the same place and watched him prepare a makeshift campsite for the night. Ragnar refused to bring her back to the others after their conversation, but she wasn’t pushing for him to. She could still feel their claws raking down her spine and how easily her skin had split. The experience had been similar to cutting herself on her father’s sharpest knife, and she simply did not wish to endure that again. Let the trolls’ anger fade with time. Perhaps they wouldn’t be so inclined to kill her in a few days.
Although she understood their anger. She would have been mad too if she had discovered the trolls had tricked her people.
Huddled as she was, she could see everything Ragnar did. He was quick to build a circle of stones, not crystals. He kept his eye on her the entire time. She wasn’t sure if he thought she was going to bolt, or if he was just worried about her in general. She wanted to bristle at the thought. Maia had always taken care of herself.
But she was bleeding quite badly. She could feel the shirt sticking to her skin where the blood had soaked through the fabric and her wrist was aching terribly. Her palm hurt where the witch had bled her. Everything in her ached, even the top of her head.
So she stayed right where she was. She didn’t offer to help, nor did she care to do so. Ragnar worked hard to get the fire going and then left once more, returning with armfuls of leaves over and over again until he’d created a sizable pile that was clearly meant for sleeping on. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in, but it would do just fine for the night. Hopefully, they were going back and not just... staying here forever.
The thought terrified her. She felt all the blood drain out of her face as he returned with a rabbit and pulled his knife out of his pocket. At least this time he sat down with her, slowly skinning the poor fluffy beast that he’d killed to feed her.
“Are we staying here?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
He looked at her with a frown. “No, not forever.”
Maia was ashamed to admit that she sagged a bit in relief. “Oh, good.”
He paused in skinning the creature, then pointed the bloodied knife at her. “Did you think we weren’t going back to the other trolls?”
Well, when he said it like that, it sounded a little silly. Shuffling her feet and sticking her toes into the soft dirt, she shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what your plan is. You don’t tell me anything. All I know is that they wanted to kill me just a few hours ago. I’m still the wrong human to be here, and that can’t be easy for them.”
“It isn’t,” he muttered. That knife made quick work of the rabbit and soon enough, he was threading the meat onto a stick. “You leave that part up to me. They’re not a forgiving lot, but they’ll accept you if I ask them to.”