“Oh.” Her hands clung to his shoulders and she hid her face against his chest.
He chuckled softly. “Oh?”
“Oh,” she said again, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relaxing her hold on him and looking up at his face from beneath her eyelashes.
He groaned at the look in her eyes, his hands tightening involuntarily around her waist. The soft, bare skin between her tunic and her skirt, like silk to his fingers. Letting her go when she looked at him like that was impossible. “I’m going to besmirch your honor if you don’t allow me to wed you.”
She smiled, and he thanked Odin that amusement overtook the hunger in her eyes. “What’s to allow? All you need to do is throw me into one of your boats and away.”
“I will not take you forcibly.” The words were feeble. Already he was tempted by the thought. What would she do if he called for his power and stole her away to Asgard? Odin would find her a fascinating creature. They could be married beneath his mother’s tree and feast in the great stone halls. He stopped his train of thought there, shying away from the problems it would cause. The things which stood in his way. He could not think of Sif, now.
“Then you’ll have to go to my father, and risk his refusal,” she was saying. “I’m not sure he’ll allow it, Thorgrim. And if he refuses you, there will be no other way. I’ll be forbidden to see you, to even speak with you.”
“You deserve better than to be stolen away in the night.”
She raised her chin. “If I wish to go, I have not been stolen. Is it not my right to give my heart to you?”
It was cowardly, taking her this way instead of facing her father, but she pulled him toward the fishing boats waiting above the tide line, dragging him by the hand. Someone shouted for her behind them, from the village, and he glanced back. Her father, he thought, wondering what kept her.
“Please,” she said, turning to face him when he hesitated.
He growled and swung her up into his arms, carrying her to the boat he often used to fish in the evenings. No one would think it odd if it were gone. He dropped her onto the bench and shoved the boat off the beach, scraping against the rocks. He waded into the water to his knees before jumping in with her.
“How far?” he asked.
She smiled and worked the crude oars, taking slow easy strokes out to sea. “A few villages away will do. If we hug the coastline, I can tell you when to stop.”
He eyed her for a moment. She was strong for a woman, and he’d made sure she was no novice with an oar, but he was stronger. Faster. It was best to get out of sight before whoever had been calling for her came down to the beach to look.
“Let me row.”
She slid out of the way and he took over. Their speed nearly tripled. The wind shifted, and another call carried to them on the water. He turned the boat, sending them further up the shore. If they could get around the wooded headland, they would be safe from discovery.
Eve sat across from him, her back to the beach. In the sun, her skin glowed, and her aura was bright with joy and love. Golden with immortality. And yet she lived so simply as a woman within the world, not as a goddess, as she could.
“We don’t have to return,” he said. Even if he could not bring her to Asgard, it did not mean she should be trapped by the customs of men. “You can leave all of this behind. Live freely, independent of any village, any people.”
“And if I were to go, what would happen to my father’s people?”
The beach was out of sight now, and he slowed the pace of his oars. “Your father would choose a new heir. Someone else to lead, where your husband might have. Adopt a son, perhaps, though the gods might still grant him one.”
“The gods,” she repeated softly. “And what gods do you worship, Thorgrim?”
Her face was turned away from his, and he wished he had not spoken of them, but it was too late now. “None of them.”
She looked up sharply, her eyes wide with surprise. “But you speak of them as if you believe.”
He took a stroke with the oars, and then stopped, meeting her eyes. “So do you.”
“But—” She bit her lip, her forehead furrowing as she stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
He smiled. “I have traveled a long way, for years on end, and heard many stories of many gods. But faith requires doubt, Tora, and I have none.” He shrugged and began to row again. He did not wish to be on the water after night fell. Even if the chill of the wind did not bother him, the cold would bother her.
“You’re speaking honestly.” But by her tone, she did not seem to believe her own words. She was staring at him so hard now, he thought he felt her eyes piercing through his body. “How can you have no doubt? No question?”
No. She wasn’t staring at his body, but trying to search his mind. His eyes narrowed as he realized what it was he felt. The familiar pressure upon his thoughts, and the vague ache at the base of his skull. How had he not realized it before? Of course she would have some power. Some ability to help adapt herself to her people, or else she would never belong to them, her past experiences overriding her present.
He kept his mind calm and his tone mild, burying the thoughts as quickly as they had come and hoping he was fast enough to keep them from her. “What answer are you looking for, Tora?”
She flushed, dropping her eyes guiltily, and the ache disappeared. “I just don’t understand how you can be so certain. Or what it is you’re certain of.”
“Don’t you?” Had she been able to read his mind? It certainly didn’t seem as though she had. He pulled the oars in and reached for her, turning her face back to his and looking into her eyes. Without his power, he couldn’t be certain. Couldn’t find the truth in her mind for himself.
She looked troubled and confused, a wrinkle appearing between her eyes, and the thought that it was because she had seen his godhead worried him. But surely she kept her own secrets. If she knew his, too, he did not think she would speak of it. If she even believed it. She might very well consider it delusion, as she did the rest.
“You said if you told me what you hid, I wouldn’t believe you. Do you still think so?”
Her eyes darkened, and she turned her face away again. “You wouldn’t. You’d think there was something wrong with me. Or that I was a witch.”
He heard the bitterness in her voice, and it reassured him. If she had seen his own immortality, she wouldn’t worry. She would have no reason to worry. “I would never think you were a witch, Tora.”
“You say that now, but you don’t know the truth.” She shook her head, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears. “I had no right to ask you to take me away. To ask you to bind yourself to me this way. There are so many things I wish I could tell you—that I want to tell you before it’s too late for you to stop this, but I don’t want to lose you. Lose this feeling of being loved. Not again.”
“Shh.” He pulled her to him, gathering her into his arms and holding her on his lap. She was crying now, her face hidden against his neck, her tears hot on his skin. “You won’t lose me. And I will always love you.” He stroked her hair, kissing the side of her head. “No matter what, Tora. Do you understand?”
“But you’ll die,” she sobbed, her words garbled by his shoulder. “You’ll die, and I’ll be alone again.”
He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t. That she would never be without him, but it wasn’t a promise he could make. Someday, he would have to return to Asgard, but he would not do it before her death. That wasn’t something he could explain now. It would only disturb her further.
He held her closer, pressing his face against her hair. “Tell me. So that whatever it is, I can protect you, and whatever it is, you’ll know I love you for it.”
She took a breath, gulping the air, and he felt her begin to calm. If she could read anything from his mind, she would see the truth of his words now. That he meant to love her, no matter what. The hand that had been a fist in his tunic relaxed, and she smoothed the rough wool.
He caught her hand and held it to his chest, over his heart, waiting. It wasn’t just that he wanted to know her, though he did, but that he wanted her to know he knew her and loved her all the same. Loved her more, for her immortality, for the things that made her more than human.
“You really don’t have any doubts, do you?” she asked softly, wiping the tears from her eyes.
He kissed her forehead, glad it was a question he could answer honestly. “Not about this.”
