Chapter Seventy-eight

Enid's cheeks burned, far hotter than the fire they sat beside, far stronger than any heat she had ever felt before as Ivar kissed her again, pulling her into his lap so she sat with one knee either side of him.

"Ivar…" she breathed, feeling his fingers pulling her hair and trailing her back, and then Ivar laughed, a soft, warm laugh that rumbled all the way down in the pit of Enid's stomach.

"What, wife?" he asked, and Enid smiled, a smile she tried to fight, a smile that had her eyes burning and her heart lifting.

"We're not married yet," she said.

"It's just a matter of time," Ivar shrugged, leaning towards her and kissing her again.

Each of those kisses stole her breath away, each tickle of his fingers had her skin tingling and her heart racing, and then he had both hands at her cheeks, holding her to his lips as he whispered, "I love you."

Enid gasped, her eyes closing and her hands reaching to grab his wrists. Somehow she felt like she was floating. Somehow she felt like she was drowning in sweet, warm waters and everything she touched was him, and then she kissed him, a long, deep kiss that left her trembling, that left her wanting for nothing and wanting more and more all at once. The tips of his fingers warmed her skin, trailing further and further up her leg and making her want to scream and shout his name until her voice was cracked and hoarse, but she broke away, shaking her head so quickly and whispering, "Ivar…"

Those fingers stopped, his other hand pressing into the small of her back, his face inching towards hers again.

"Just trust me, Enid," he said. "I won't do anything you don't want."

She almost told him that she didn't want him to do that, but then those fingers touched her, making her gasp and burning so warm and soft, nothing like when Rolf had touched her before.

Ivar smiled then, his eyes half-closing as Enid fell towards him, her forehead resting on his, her breath coming out in quick, short stutters, and then she felt those fingers move, sliding in and out of her, each time making her close her eyes, each time bringing a new heat to her cheeks and a soft moan to her lips. Her hand reached then, covering her mouth and trying to stifle that cry, but then she felt him biting, his teeth digging into her skin before he said, "No, let me hear you."

"Ivar…" she whispered. "It hurts, Ivar, stop."

"Does it?" he laughed softly, those fingers moving a little faster, that smile growing on his lips.

So desperately she wanted to nod, so desperately she wanted to shake her head and tell him to go faster. It wasn't a pain or an ache or anything she had ever felt before. It was a burning, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, somewhere in her chest and in her cheeks, and it was a tingling, like her skin itself was shaking, like it was growing lighter and soon she would start floating. Suddenly that burning burst, making her cry out and fall up against him, her heart racing, each beat like a fresh, new wave of blissfully warm fire, and those fingers left her as he sank a little lower on the bench and held her to his chest.

So softly that thumb traced her cheek as he pressed her to him. So quickly she breathed, her muscles aching and cheeks flush like she had been training all evening. She felt those lips brush against her forehead, felt his breath wash over her and soothe her racing heart, and then he laughed, a laugh that was soft, a laugh that was to himself, and that hand left her cheek to trail along her arm.

"I'm sorry, Enid," he whispered. "You looked like you were in a lot of pain."

Enid hit his chest, her palm lying flat against it and feeling it rise and fall as he laughed again. "Is that what it's always like?" she asked, feeling his hand on her leg, running up and down, still warm, still making her skin tingle through the layers of fabric between them.

"No," he said. "It depends on who you're with. So now that I know what you like, Enid, you'd better stick with me. That way you won't have to waste time teaching someone else."

His smile, his laugh lingered in her mind late into the night, when the children were long in bed and there was a knock on the door, but whoever it was, they didn't wait for someone to open it. They stepped into the house, sliding the door shut behind them, their face masked by their big, dark hood, and then he sighed, throwing off his cloak and joining them by the fire with a smile on his face, almost like they'd been expecting him.

"It's getting colder," Erik said, holding his hands out to the firepit before he rubbed them together. "Aren't you going to offer me something to drink, Enid?"

Enid stared at him a moment, her eyes narrowing into thin slits before she stood and poured him a cup of mead. He smiled when he took it from her, that split in his lip now crusty but still red and sore.

"What are you doing here, Erik?" Ivar asked, and Erik took a big gulp from his cup, sighing and smiling again when he was finished.

"Just checking up on you and to see if you found out anything new."

"How could we do that now?" Ivar asked. "We're out here on the edge of town."

"Nothing wrong with that," Erik said, and then that smile vanished and his eyes went sharp and cold as he stared out over Ivar's shoulder. "Why don't you just come out, Freya?"

Enid turned then, looking at that wall that separated the kitchen and then back to Erik, her forehead furrowing into a slight crease, but then she saw Freya stepping out from behind it, her feet making no sound on the floorboards, her face stiff and cold.

"How-?" Enid started.

"This is your doing, right?" Freya cut in. "You had us kicked out of the longhouse."

"You don't like it, Freya? It's a nice house. Most people would be happy with it," Erik said.

"We're not most people," the girl answered, and Erik stared at her a moment, and then Enid watched him wince, watched him jerk his head and call Freya closer.

When he spoke his voice was soft and quiet, but the light in his eyes was as sharp as a blade. "You might be able to hide from me when you're older, Freya," he said. "But for now, I want you to understand that I always know where you are. Think about that the next time you want to spy on me. Now go to bed."

"I'll stay right here," Freya said, and Ivar sighed, patting the girl on the shoulder and jerking his head up towards the loft.

Freya stayed there a moment, her face scrunching up in a slight scowl before she turned, her feet slapping against the steps as she climbed up to the loft.

"How did you know?" Enid asked, and Erik sighed again, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers as he sank a little lower in his seat.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Gro's still set on you helping at the Jul feast," he looked at Enid then, nodding his head. "That's good and Knut thinks moving you out here was his idea which is even better. It'll be harder for us to learn anything for a while, but I'm counting on something happening and the feast. This is the safest I can get you for now. You have enough supplies in case something happens?" he asked Ivar.

"Yes," he answered.

"Good. Knut has a hunting lodge up north of Bergen. If anything happens, don't go there. He knows the area so it'll be easy to find you… And I don't have to tell you not to go to Hilda's... But he'll send men to her farm either way, she'll have to be strong…"

Ivar grunted, nodding his head and hooking his thumb on his belt. "Said everything you wanted to?" he asked, and Erik stared at him a moment, his head tilting to the side before he sank lower in his seat, rubbing at his face with the palms of his hands and sighing.

When he stopped he closed his eyes, cupping the back of his head with his hands and stretching his neck. "Yes, Ivar, I'll get going… I shouldn't complain," he whispered. "This is the path the gods set out for me, I know that, but… I'm so tired of this. Sometimes I feel like jumping on a ship and sailing to wherever the gods would take me," he smiled to himself. "But anyway… at least Enid is happy now. You took long enough to tell her how you felt, Deathless."