Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Right?
I watch him while he cooks, and I worry that I might be deluding myself. Is Drako the merciless warlord, or the sweet survivalist? Unfortunately, I think I already know the answer: he is both, and one side does not exist without the other.
“How much longer do you think Thor will be?”
“He may not be back until the morning,” Drako says.
“Really? He’d stay out all night?”
“I doubt he would choose that, but it’s possible he wouldn’t have any choice if he finds himself face to face with something best not crossed. Do not worry about him. A warrior like him can take care of himself.”
“He’s not a warrior. He’s a firefighter.”
“That might be what he does when he is living in a civilized world,” Drako says. “But out here, he is a warrior and a barbarian. All men, faced with nature, become these things.”
He’s quite the philosopher when he wants to be. I think he understands this situation so much better than I do. He knows how to orient his mind to the challenges that are besieging us.
I feel lost.
But I feel less lost with him.
We eat dinner, and I wish that I had gone out and gotten some soft bedding, because now it feels like Thor won’t be back any time soon, and I want a comfortable bed. My gods, what I could do with a sheet. I could work miracles with one. A sheet and some rope, and I could make a hammock and sleep in that.
“What do you look so worried about? Don’t fret for the man,” Drako says.
“No, I was wishing we had a comfortable bed,” I reply. “I really miss bed, you know?”
“Bed is a sacred space,” Drako agrees. He surprises me by agreeing that way. I would have thought he’d be all about sleeping on bare rock and being hard and rough and survivalist and whatnot. He really is more sophisticated than he lets on.
“Is it too late to go out and forage?”
“Yes,” he says. “Another uncomfortable night, and tomorrow we will attempt to make a bed.”
“Promise?”
He smiles at me indulgently, as if I am a girl wheedling for his help with something. I feel small for a moment, and the terrifying thing is that it doesn’t actually feel bad. It feels safe.
“You can use me as a bed tonight,” Drako invites me, extending an arm and drawing me down on top of him.
“I don’t think we should do this,” I mumble, even as I start to snuggle into him. He is warm, and as the night cools, that is a valuable trait.
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“Because the rest of the world is going to come for us soon enough, and then they’ll want us to be who we were, and that’s…” I trail off, mumbling as my eyes start to feel a little heavy.
“You’re evil and bad and you enslave people and you were going to enslave me and make me watch the bodies of my crew burn and you let me be treated worse than an animal and…” I itemize all his sins in a soft mumble as he snugs me close and pats my back in soothing slow circles.
“I know,” he rumbles, his voice deep. “What a terrible big scary jarl I am. What danger this sweet, civilized girl is in…”
I fall asleep as he agrees with me. What an absolutely fiendish approach to my objections.
CHAPTER 11
“Get up! We have supplies!”
I startle awake to Thor’s voice and presence as the big, blond man comes lumbering into our cave, barely able to fit as it is, and having to work several recovered supplies in ahead of him and behind him.
I am so excited to see him, and I am even more happy to see that he got stuff. So much stuff. He must have carried loads of things strapped to his back and shoulders.
“Breakfast,” he says, handing me a chocolate fudge ration bar.
“You are a god, and I love you,” I say, responding in the only appropriate manner to such an offering.
“Don’t worry about rationing or sharing that. I want to see you eat the whole thing,” he says as I open it and start to break a piece off.
“Really?”
“There’s enough for everyone. I have a couple of cases of rations. We can save some of them for rainy days, but right now I want you nourished properly.”
I take a bite of the chocolate fudge, and I start to cry.
The act of eating food feels the same as the fact of being loved. It’s all so overwhelming, it tastes so good, and all the happy chemicals racing through my brain are telling me that I am being deeply cared for and that is triggering a rush of emotion I cannot control.
“Hey, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is it bad?” Thor is instantly concerned for me.