Page 28 of Heart of Fire
He had to move quickly. He could hear Freyja heading for the door again. The swing of her golden plait came into view, and Freyja snagged her shawl, reaching for the door handle with one guilty glance cast over hershoulder—
“Where are you going?” hedemanded.
Freyja paused in the shadows of the kitchen doorway, her shawl in her hand. “For awalk.”
Lie.It ignited every single one of his senses. “May I come withyou?”
“It is rather boring,” she said quickly, and he knew she was up to something. “You will not enjoy it. Muddy, smelly... I daresay it will ruin yourboots.”
He was inclined to argue, but merely smiled. “Not my boots. Whatever would Ido?”
Freyja shot him a narrow-eyed look, as if she couldn’t quite work out whether he was being sarcastic or not. She tucked the shawl over her honey-colored hair, then headed for the door. “I shall be backlater.”
“I can hardlywait.”
That earned him one last twitch of the brow, before shevanished.
Troublesome female. If he were in hisdrekiform right now, his tail would be lashing. But then, if she thought to dissuade him from the chase, she thought wrong. Nothing stirred his interest more than a woman who refused to fall at his feet. And there was no reason for her to lie to him about where she was going,unless....
Rurik waited for all of two minutes, realizing Loki had followed him and watched from the corner of the cupboard, like some smallchaperone.
“I am not going to hurt her, little brother,”he told thefox.
Those amber eyesnarrowed.
Rurik reined in his predatory impulses, and headed out into the yard to see if his suspicions werecorrect.
That small light-footed figure headed out across the moors, her green shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she made her way directly toward the smoking volcano in thedistance.
Easy enough to guess where she was going. What he didn’t know was why, or what she was upto.
His blood was up. Perhaps she was wary of Rurik the man, but she seemed to have reached a truce in her mind with thedreki.
It seemed she would be meeting him sooner, rather thanlater.
Rurik paced along the stone fence that housed her sheep. They bleated and scurried out of his path, pressing in a frightened huddle against the far wall. Freyja might not recognize him in this form, but all of her animalsdid.
He sighed. “I’m not going to eat any of you,” he pointed out. “She’s barely forgiven me for theram.”
He’d never live it down if he sampled another of her deliciousmorsels.
His stomach chose that moment to growl. The bleating grew louder. Rurik bared his teeth at them, and then stomped around the corner of the stables. Idiot sheep. And frustratingshepherdess.
He’d given her more than enough time for a decent headstart.
And thedrekiitched within him, wanting to taste the wind on itsface.
Plus therewerehis boots to thinkof....
* * *
Rurik glided across the skies,his shadow rippling over the tiny figure far below that trudged determinedly across the glacial moors. He felt utterly relaxed in his natural form, as though he’d been contained in a form far too small for him for toolong.
Wind whipped beneath his wings and he soared on the thermals, delighting in the warmth of the sunlight on hisscales.
Not a sign of anotherdrekianywhere. He’d made careful forays over the past few nights, but there’d been no hint of them. Which suggested they’d taken toground....
Where though? What was theirgame?
