Her Viking Wolves(57)

I carefully reach for the hilt instead, making sure to keep any part of the deadly silver-edged blade from coming into contact with my skin as I lift the weapon a few inches from the floor.

“Plan you to make use of my sword, Varra?” a voice asks behind me.

I start, nearly dropping the sword on my bare foot, which definitely would have sucked. With a small thank you to the clumsiness gods for not choosing this moment to prove they own me, I carefully replace it against the built-in desk.

But when I turn to face FJ and Olafr, who are hovering just outside the bathroom doorway, I start again. They’re both wearing towels, and FJ has what looks like a pair of pajama bottoms slung over his forearm. Standing there beside a large window with a snow-covered mountain looming in the distance, they look like they could be the January spread in one of those hot, nude men charity calendars. And let me tell you, my ass would definitely be buying one of those calendars.

“My brother wished to bathe,” FJ tells me, lips twisting into a derisive smile. “I did accompany him to your bathing room so I might teach him the ways of the rain bath. He was much surprised by the rain, however, and my nightclothes did not fare well.”

After a moment spent translating, I realize he tried to show Olafr how to take a shower and ended up getting soaked in the process. Which explains why they’re both standing here looking all sorts of hunky and delicious in towels that are way too small to adequately cover big Viking muscles.

“I see,” I say, swallowing. “So both of you took a shower.”

Do not think bad thoughts, I tell myself. Do not think bad thoughts.

“Which causes me much regret, Varra,” FJ says, shaking his head sadly. “For I did not wish to remove your scent from my skin.”

Both he and Olafr’s eyes travel down my body in a lingering fashion, which is an excellent reminder, that, oh yeah, I’m standing here buck-naked.

Not wanting to think too much about all my large curves being on display, I quickly avert my eyes.

“I see you also moved me into another room while I was asleep…away from my clothes.”

“Olafr did your room’s door break,” FJ reminds me, his voice as quietly amused as his face. “We did think you would be more comfortable here.”

“You thought right. Thanks,” I say quickly, still refusing to look at them. Maybe if I don’t look, I can keep the next heat spell at bay.

“D-did you happen to bring my laptop?” I ask, scanning the room hopefully as I think of all those emails and texts I need to deal with.

“No, Varra, we did not,” he answers, sounding a little annoyed and not at all apologetic.

Which doesn’t make me very optimistic about the answer to my next question. “Um, could you go get it?”

“No, we cannot,” FJ answers.

“Okay,” I say, “No problem. I’ll get it myself.” In a show of fake confidence, I walk over the bed and pull off the top sheet, wrapping it around myself in a makeshift toga.

“It is no longer in your room.”

I look at FJ. He looks at me. I ask the obvious.

“Do you know where it is?”

He seems to consider my question, then answers with a very succinct, “No.”

I can almost feel him blocking his thoughts from me. And irritation begins a slow creep up my body as I finish wrapping the sheet around my torso.

“No, because you honestly don’t know where it is or no, because you gave it to someone and told them to hide it?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice level.
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“You must eat now, Varra,” Olafr says inside my head before FJ can respond. “We can talk more of this later.”

He goes to a nightstand on the other side of the bed and lifts a large tray of food that I somehow missed when I woke up.

“Come here to the bed and eat before your heat returns.”

He sits on the bed, setting the tray down beside him and, oh my God, his towel just gives up the ghost, completely falling away and revealing a very erect penis.

I suddenly develop a keen interest in the ceiling.

“So maybe you should put on some clothes before breakfast,” I tell him with my eyes glued to the rustic wooden beams above.

“Mayhap you should rid yourself of your bedding, Varra,” he answers, his voice an amused rumble. “I would not wish for it to get dirty.”

I just sit down, keeping my eyes on the tray. But before I can reach out to take it, it’s moved away. Olafr puts it on his lap, and the next thing I know, he’s pushing small bites of cold ham into my mouth.

The meat tastes delicious and I can almost hear my wolf growling for more, even as my human thinks I should take the tray from him and feed myself. I’m a grown woman, after all.