He turned around, his long blond hair falling to the bottom of his shoulder blades, and the plaits on either side of his temples making him seem more dangerous. His chest was hard, defined, and littered with scars. It was like this man was a warrior from long ago. He held a cup, a long, discolored looking one that was strange in appearance. But as he came closer, she realized it was actually a horn. She moved back another inch on the pallet, and when he stopped a few feet from her all she could do was stare at him.
He was huge, easily over six and a half feet in height, and his muscles were honed to godly proportions. He had leather ties wrapped around his bulging biceps, and when she looked down at his chest, saw the Nordic symbols and designs in his flesh, snaking around his arms and sides, even around his pecs, this strange arousal consumed her. God, what was wrong with her? What was she thinking to be feeling anything more than shock and horror that she was clearly not where she should be?
She stared into his face, looked right into his cold, hard blue eyes that were so bright in color they seemed unnatural, and she felt fear unlike anything she’d ever felt before slam into her. He held out the horn cup, and she eyed it. The memories of where she’d been before waking up in this hut came back to her: the old woman, the words she’d spoken, and then the drink Agata had consumed. No fucking way was she going to drink anything this man gave her. The last time she consumed anything landed her in this situation … wherever this was.
“I’m not thirsty.” For all she knew this man was some kind of psycho, wanting to experience some other time and live like a barbarian. Who knew what in the hell he wanted with her. She stood, not about to stay here any longer, especially when it was clear he wasn’t about to respond to her questions or tell her where she was or what was going on.
He pushed the cup to her again, and she shook her head, not taking her eyes off of him.
“I said I’m not thirsty. Why won’t you answer me?” She was speaking in Norwegian now, hoping that this man, this beast of a male, wouldn’t just stare at her like he was possibly thinking about how warm her skin would be during the winter months.
“Dua manki drekka, konna mae,” he said in a hoarse, slightly scratchy voice. He wasn’t speaking a dialect of Norwegian she knew, and although she had no clue what he’d said, she did recognize one of the words.
Wife. Why in the hell had he called her wife? Was this a joke? She looked around, went to stand because she needed to get out of here, but he shoved the horn cup in her face.
“Dua manki drekka.” He reached out, gently, but firmly grabbed her uninjured arm, and pulled her closer. “Konna, drekka.” He put the rim of the cup at her mouth, tilted it back, and poured the contents in her mouth.
She sputtered, but realized it was just water. She still wasn’t about to drink it. Agata wasn’t going to stay here either. With her head still aching, her arm throbbing painfully, she managed to muster up her strength and push past the Hulk of a man. He was either taken off guard by her sudden movements, or he wasn’t worried about her getting away, because he moved away far too easily.
She moved through the small hut toward the front entrance, and glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her. She was frozen for a moment, not knowing why she wasn’t escaping right now while he stood still. But the way he watched her, with hooded eyes, and this fierce determination in his expression, had fear and coldness moving through her. This man was dangerous, that was for sure.
Agata pushed open the wooden door, and the chill in the air startled her for a moment. She had no clue where she was. The woods surrounded her on every side, and the sun was just starting to set. She wouldn’t be able to see anything if she ran.
She looked over her shoulder once more, heard the low growl that came from him, and watched as he tossed the cup to the side of the room. Agata took off, not thinking about anything anymore. She felt her lungs burn as she moved through the forest, not knowing where she was going, but not caring. Getting away was the only important thing right now.
Her legs weren’t injured, but her head was growing more painful by the second, and her arm was tucked right against her chest. She cradled it, not sure how it had gotten hurt in the first place. Agata didn’t care if he had tended to her. She didn’t know who he was or what he wanted with her, and didn’t know where she was. It was clear that man wouldn’t be forthcoming with any answers.
She knew she’d missed her flight. It had been nightfall when she was at the festival, and with the sun just now setting it had to be at least the following day. Like one of those fools in horror movies she looked behind her shoulder. She couldn’t help it. Agata needed to know where he was, and if he was coming after her. The flash of his blond hair came through a break in the trees. He was running parallel with her, tracking her … hunting her. A soft cry left her at the nightmare she was in now.