Page 9 of Heart of Fire
The words whispered over the smooth skin behind her ear. Freyja shivered, and spun on her heel to face the man. Rurik stood closer than he ought to, his body cutting the cool slipstream of the wind so she instantly warmed. Or perhaps that was the heat that lingered in the air betweenthem.
She hadn’t even heard him moving. Tugging her shawl tight around her shoulders, Freyja glanced up at him as if daring him to stare at hereyes.
And hedid.
But not the way most men usually did, recoiling in horror. Instead he leaned closer, seeming to stare right through her as if he could see something no one else could. As if somehow he stripped her naked—not of her clothes, but of every pretense and inhibition she’d ever owned, every lie she’d ever told, every little smile she’d used to mask herhurt.
And it burned. The connection between them was irrevocable. Freyja was lost, unable to look away, drawn like a lodestone to iron filings, lured by the smoky amber of his gaze. Her breath trapped itself in her lungs, as though she wore a steelcorset.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he finally murmured, and the spell wasbroken.
“Beautif—” she blurted, then stopped herself. Nobody had ever called them beautiful before, and this conversation was incredibly daring for a man who had not even asked hername.
Small lines creased in the corners of his eyes, as though he smiled without moving his lips. “You doubt me? Do you not own amirror?”
“This is most unseemly,” she murmured, dropping her head so as to draw as little attention aspossible.
“I did not take you for a seemly woman atall.”
Freyja looked up with a steely glare. “Sir, you have spoken out of turn. I will thank you to move out of myway.”
Those amber eyes sharpened, as though he had unearthed precisely what he wished to find. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend. I merely meant to point out you are a rare blossom in a garden of”—his gaze raked the crowd—“ordinary blooms. You’re not the type to conform. I find the effectstimulating.”
And then he hit her with the full power of hissmile.
Freyja stepped back, tucking her shawl tighter as though it could somehow protect her or help sort her whirlpool of sudden emotion. “You offer compliments with a practicedease.”
“I speak the truth and always have.” He offered her his hand as if to bring her fingers to his lips. “My name isRurik.”
“So I believe you said.” His fingers were long and elegant. She eyed them as one would eye a toad. She didn’t want to touch him. Instinct had never let her down in the past and it was screaming at her now. Touch him and she would be lost. Touch him and all manner of dangerous, life-changing moments existed in her future. “And if honeyed words are the only weapons in your arsenal, then I fear you shall have a fruitlesshunt.”
“Are you challenging me to prove myintentions?”
“All I am saying,” she stared at him defiantly, “is that I will not succumb toflattery.”
His eyelashes lowered as he realized she had no intention of taking his hand. “I don’t believe I caught yourname.”
“I never offered it,” she replied, and gathering her skirts, moved to step around him. “Good day,sir.”
Freyja could feel eyes on her as she hurried toward the inn. Watching her. Smoldering. And then she realized Rurik wasn’t the only person watchingher.
The dragon slayer glared at her, his arms folded across his chest and his face expressionless. Behind him, his men dove into the waters of the bay, to attach cables to the ballista, but he paid them no mind. No, his attention was all forher.
Freyja faltered. Her ears began catching hints of the murmurs that surrounded her. The flickering glances of thecrowd.
“…curious how it fell like that? All at once, as if the ropes werecut….”
“Cut bywhat?”
Silence greeted the question. Nobody quite looked at her, but she saw an older lady crossherself.
Somehow Freyja forced herself to take another step. Then another. Moving stiffly, though she tried not to. Her pulse started to race. They did not burn witches anymore, but she was suddenly aware of her vulnerability so far from home. There were none here to protect her or protest her innocence. No one who knewher.
It was not so bad out in the countryside where the goodwives told their tales, and everyone knew it was wise not to disturb the tors for fear of earning the wrath of trolls. Changeling, the local bonders whispered behind her back, but they did little more than whisper. Here in the town, religion had a strongerhold.
Freyja tried to ignore the dragon slayer’s stare as she reached the inn door. The crowd was not where the dangerlay.
“Here.”
