He pulled the hide over them, one that felt butter-soft and smelled of him. Agata shouldn’t have felt safe, protected in his arms.
But she did, and she actually drifted off to sleep with this warrior caging her in like she was his most precious prisoner.
15
Agata watched as a flock of birds flew overhead. She was outside, Stian a few feet from her cutting wood, and the thick, fur-lined jacket he made for her keeping the cold away.
There were these little green berries she was currently picking, and although it was cold as hell, these little berries were growing aplenty and were vibrant in color.
She felt the weight of the herb satchel in her shift pocket. She had it for days now, held it many times when Stian wasn’t looking, and thought about just taking it and being done with this In-Between world.
She’d gotten over her initial confusion and shock that she was in a different dimension, because even if it sounded crazy as hell, it was the only thing that made sense.
And as much as this whole situation and experience were insane, her reality, her life back home in the States, didn’t make as much sense as being with Stain. He made her feel wanted, made the loneliness she always felt vanish. He held her, whispered to her, and made her feel like there was no other woman for him.
The latter might be true, seeing as he lived out in the middle of the woods and had initially taken her against her will, but things felt different with him now.
Since she’d first woken up in this very different world, she’d only listened to Stian’s language, as was common since that was all he spoke. He’d only heard her speak English and Norwegian, even if he didn’t understand either. She was a fast learner in general, and learning Norwegian had been easy for her.
During her time here with him, she’d picked up on his language quickly, not anything to allow her to speak fluently with someone, but she understood bits and pieces, could even talk back to him when he asked her something simple. The thing was she felt comfortable in this world, in this life.
Not conventional in any sense was an understatement, given her situation, but with each passing day, and especially after she’d been with him, she realized she felt something for this man. The old woman had mentioned something about Stian having a troubled life, but she’d been gone before Agata could ask what that meant.
Going back to her home in America, another dimension—as it seemed was the reality—wasn’t even that appealing after she started allowing herself to really be in this life. Here she was, picking berries in this strange world, with a man who saw her as a wife, and she wasn’t even jumping at the option to leave anymore, or at least not as strongly.
She asked herself over and over again since seeing that old woman why she didn’t want to return home, or why she did. There were more pros of staying than leaving, and that scared the shit out of her. Was her life so dull, so lonely and sad, that she’d rather stay here?
Looking at Stian as he cut wood, she could picture the fierceness in his body and expression, in the way he’d taken her like he owned her, like there was no other for him. That was a heady sensation, an intoxicating emotion to someone who had never felt an ounce of real love her entire life.
He didn’t chain her up, didn’t make her feel like his prisoner any longer.
She stood, grabbed the small basket that held the berries, and moved over to him. He dropped the ax on the ground, gathered the pieces of wood he chopped, and headed into the hut. She stood there, holding that basket, and felt the weight of that damn satchel.
It was her lifeline home; she knew that, but she was hesitant. When he returned, he held a net and a spear and spoke in his language.
“We fish.”
She understood him through his thick accent and nodded. “Okay.” Setting the basket down, she followed him through the trees, deeper into the woods, and away from the hut until the sea came into view. He led her down the steep decline until they were on the sandy yet very rocky beach.
She sat on one of the rocks and watched as he removed his coat and boots and stepped into the shallow end of the water.
He was still for several minutes, but she saw his gaze moving back and forth along the water. Then he jabbed his spear into the water so fast she didn’t even have time to blink. He lifted the spear out of the water and held it up, showing the squirming fish on the other end.
Tearing off the fish and tossing it to the shore, he went back and did this same action over and over again. The fish were piling up, but he didn’t stop.
For at least an hour, she sat there watching him, mesmerized by the fact that this man was fluid and swift in his motions. He caught fish right off the shore with nothing but that spear. Once there seemed to be enough fish, he got out of the water and tossed them into the homemade net. He rinsed off his hands and put his boots and coat back on.
“Come, wife.” He smiled at her, and the act seemed so foreign on such a big, strong, and ruthless man like Stian. He led them over to the side, around large outcroppings, and stopped. “In here, Agata,” he said and looked over his shoulder at her.
She looked at where he was talking about and shook her head. He had his spear and net full of fish set off to the side now, and it was clear he wanted to take her into this creepy-as-hell cave where the light didn’t even penetrate the darkness.
The small cave was nearly invisible, as two large, protruding outcroppings concealed it, but she saw it well enough. He pushed away a thick, thorny-looking bush and gestured for her to come forward.
Looking at Stian, then back at the cave, she gave him a “no fucking way” look and shook her head once more. She tried to form the right words in her head before she spoke in his language, but the words failed her and she didn’t bother.
“No, I can’t go in there, Stian,” she said in English, but he was picking up on her language quickly too.
It took him a moment to respond, and she wondered f he was trying to form the right words before he spoke in English. “Agata, wife, trust me.” He purposefully used smaller words, spoke slowly so she could understand, but still, she didn’t know what he could possibly want to show her in there.
Did she trust him? As weird and fucked-up as it may seem, she did, with her life in fact. He saved her twice, mended her once, and gone after her to take out men who hated him. She still didn’t know why he lived a horrible life, and maybe she never would, but that clearly had something to do with why the villagers hated him so much.
Her pulse started racing at the thought of being in such a tight, confined space.
“No fear, wife.” He continued to speak in English, held his hand out to her, and curled his fingers into his palm. “Come.”
When she moved closer to him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he led them into the cave.
“I trust you,” she said softly, and he stopped. They stared at each other for a moment.
“Good. I’d never hurt you,” he spoke in his language this time.
She tried to break up what he just said and finally realized what he’d spoken. Smiling for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed him to take her deeper and deeper into the cavern.
They descended, Stian obviously knowing where they were going despite that she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. Finally, the space opened to show light coming in from various holes in the rock surrounding them and bouncing off clear crystals throughout the stone walls.