Northern Lights (3 page)

“This needs ice, but it is cold night and I would rather you be warm. For now I wrap it. In the morning I drive you to the hospital in Reykjavik, yes?” He opens the first-aid kit and produces a cloth bandage, which he wraps securely but loosely around my ankle.

The swelling
is
pretty bad—I look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. The gentle brush of his calloused fingers against my skin is oddly comforting, though, and I sink back into the chair and close my eyes.

“Can you turn?”

“Sorry?” I open my eyes and look down at him. For the first time, I notice how blue his eyes are—pale in color, and yet star-bright.

“In the chair. Can you turn? I want your ankle here.” He taps the arm of the sofa, and I finally catch his drift. He slips an arm around my waist, and with his help, I wriggle around and lie back as he raises my leg, resting it over the sofa’s padded arm. “Do you have other injuries?”

“No, just the ankle. Thanks… uh, sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“Forgive me…. I am Kári.”

Something occurs to me. “Back in the park, you already knew my name. How?”

“I am park ranger. You were reported missing. We looked for you where your tour guide said you walked, but we did not find you. When the sun set, we had to stop until morning.”

“I left the group. I went off on my own,” I confess, and he nods, passing no judgment on my actions. “I fell, and I must have hit my head because—”

“Your head?” He stiffens. “Why did you not tell me this?” His expression is stern, and I suddenly feel like a naughty schoolboy caught telling a lie.

“What? Oh, it’s fine now.”

“You have vomited?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“More than one time?”

“No, only once.”

“Hmm.” He sits back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. “Perhaps you have head injury. We go to the hospital now.” He starts to stand.

“No,” I say, catching hold of his sleeve. “The morning is fine, really. The head doesn’t hurt.”

I’m just beginning to feel warm again, and the last thing I want to do is go back out into the cold night. Besides, with my initial fears quelled, I’m starting to feel oddly secure with Kári. I would much rather stay here with him in this cozy cabin than lie in a hospital bed surrounded by sterile white walls and a bunch of strangers in lab coats.

“Very well, but you must stay awake. I stay up with you. Wait a moment.”

Kári rises and walks behind the sofa, heading toward the bed. He picks up something black and rectangular—a satellite phone, I discover when he punches in a series of numbers. The conversation is short, but I catch my own name amidst the flurry of unfamiliar words.

“I called my boss,” he says when he turns back to me. “Now they know they do not need to look for you in the morning.”

Remaining by the bed, Kári pulls off his woolen hat, revealing shoulder-length blond hair. The strands fall, swaying back and forth as they return to their natural position. I notice a few sticking up, protesting their time incarcerated, and I feel a sudden and unexpected urge to run my fingers through them and tame them back into submission. The thought makes me swallow deeply, and I give a soft cough in an attempt to clear my throat.

Then he tugs the white tunic-style top over his head, followed by his jacket and then his pullover. It’s only when he starts to lift the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt that I realize he’s intending to fully undress… and I’m sitting here staring at him like a total pervert. I go from feeling pleasantly toasty to uncomfortably warm. I know I should look away, certain my stare is fast turning into an all-out leer, but I find myself mesmerized by the enticing flash of rippling abs. I don’t tend to go for muscled types, usually sticking with those who possess a lean, lithe frame like my own, but in this case….

It’s a long time coming, but at last my sense of decency kicks in and I turn my gaze back toward the fire. What the hell am I doing? The guy came along and rescued me, a veritable knight in shining armor, and all I can do is ogle him in an entirely inappropriate manner. In any case, I have a boyfriend; I shouldn’t be looking at other men.

The remembrance is a slap in the face, one that knocks all the wind out of me. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I? That’s the reason I got into this mess in the first place. Part of me is ready to cave in with renewed sorrow and regrets; however, another part of me lets out an internal whoop of joy. Richard cut me loose. That means I can look at Kári as much as I—

No! Absolutely not! He’s probably straight as an arrow. If he thinks I’m in any way eyeing him up, he may be deeply offended… or, knowing my luck, even angry.

There’s movement in my peripheral vision, and I look up to see Kári walking toward me, dressed—Thank the Lord!—in jeans and a sweater. He settles on the floor beside the sofa, and the firelight reflects off something hanging around his neck.

“What are you wearing?” I tap my own chest and then gesture at him.

He glances down and wraps his hand around the pendant. For a moment he appears to hesitate, but then he pulls it over his head and hands it to me.

Attached to the black cord is a pewter carving. It has a bit of weight to it, and I turn it in my hand a few times, looking at it from different angles. “A hammer?”

“Mjölnir.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Mjölnir. It is Thor’s hammer.”

“Thor? As in the God of Thunder?”

He nods, and I hand the pendant back to him. He slips it over his head and tucks it inside his sweater this time, out of sight.

“So, you’re a big Marvel fan, huh?” I ask. “I always liked Spiderman more myself.”

He turns away and pokes at the fire with an iron, shifting some of the logs, making the flames hiss and spark. “No, I am pagan. The old gods are my gods.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward pause, and I get the distinct impression he’s expecting some kind of backlash. Well, he picked up the wrong injured tourist for that. I’ve faced more than my fair share of opposition to my sexual orientation over the years, and I’m the last person to have a problem with the beliefs or lifestyles of others. I do, however, have a moment of epiphany regarding his appearance.

“That’s cool,” I say, not failing to note the brief flicker of surprise that crosses his face. “Is that why you have all the… stuff?” I helpfully wave my index finger around in front of my forehead, and he reaches up, rubbing the markings encrusted on his brow. Some of the crumbling, dried paste flakes away and drifts toward the floor.

“Sorry. I forgot.”

I shrug. “It’s not a problem, though you gave me a fright when I first saw you in the torchlight, all white robes and blood.”

“Not blood. It is herbal mixture. Plants.”

I wave away his explanation. “Yeah, I could see that once we got here and you turned the light on—it’s more green than red. What were you doing? Can you tell me, or was it a secret ceremony thing?”

He laughs and the tension dissipates. “No secret.” He points to his forehead. “These are runes. Sacred symbols. You understand?”

I nod when he meets my gaze.

“Tonight is Mother Night. Uh…. Winter Solstice. I was making
blóð
. I would have stayed awake all night… sorry, I do not remember the word…?”

“Like a vigil?”

“Vigil, yes.” He nods. “To see the return of the sun. But we had to look for you early in the morning, so after the ritual, I left.”

He ends with a shy smile, and like a bolt of Thor’s lightning, I suddenly realize just how damn lucky I’ve been.

“So there wouldn’t normally be anyone patrolling the park at night?”

“No. The park is closed at night. I go only for
blóð
.”

“And if you’d not been called in to help with the search, you wouldn’t have been heading back to your car and found me on the road?”

Kári nods his confirmation.

“Any other night, I’d still be stuck there. Shit! Out in the cold, all night… I could have died.”

“Yes, you are lucky man, James Blythe. The gods smile on you, I think.”

“Damn straight!”

We sit for a moment, staring into the fire, neither of us speaking, but it’s a companionable silence. Red-orange flames lick the logs in the fireplace—they almost seem to be dancing. The smoke swirls upward, disappearing into the flue, and I find myself thinking of fate and gods. I wrack my brains to see what I know about the Norse gods, but I’m heartily ashamed to discover the only things that come to mind are Tom Hiddleston’s long, leather-clad legs and Chris Hemsworth’s pecs.

Actually, thinking about it, Kári rather reminds me of Marvel’s Thor, with his long blond hair, although I reckon Kári’s the better-looking of the two—Chris Hemsworth is a little too muscled for my personal preference, whereas Kári has the balance just right. And his hair is so shiny and sleek. I wonder if those locks would feel as silky as they look if I were to run my fingers—

“Why did you do it?”

Kári’s question breaks my reverie, and I give a guilty start. “Huh? What? Sorry?”

“Why did you leave your group?”

I groan. “Everyone was in couples, and they were all so happy and in love. I just needed to get away.”

Kári gives a sad smile. “Ah, you had problem with your girlfriend. A fight, yes? I understand. You want to call her? Winter Solstice is good time for new beginnings. She will be worried about you.”

I wonder for a moment if I should go along with Kári’s assumption, turn Richard into Rachel. But if I do, I know I’ll feel like a dick later. The guy was honest with me about his beliefs, even though he expected me to react badly. The least I can do is return the trust.

“Um, kinda, only Richard was my boyfriend. It’s over between us now anyway. He left last night. For good.”

Kári flinches. He does his best to hide the movement, but I see it all the same. Oh well, I guess that answers the question as to whether or not he’s straight. On the plus side, perhaps knowing the guy is never going to be interested will help me put an end to this fascination.

“He was to come with you today?”

Kári carries on the conversation as if nothing is amiss, so I follow suit. “No, we were supposed to spend the day together for my birthday. We’d planned to take the trip to see the Northern Lights this evening. The park was a last-minute decision after he walked out on me.” The memory of his exit from the room flickers into my mind, and my chest tightens.

“It is your birthday? Til hamingju með afmælið. Happy Birthday.”

I shake my head and give a sharp, sardonic laugh. “Thanks. And what an amazing one it’s been. The best birthday ever!”

I turn back to Kári to find he’s watching me, a thoughtful expression on his face. The way he’s looking at me, I suddenly wonder if I was mistaken about seeing him flinch. He doesn’t seem disgusted or even perturbed. Rather, there’s something in his gaze…. I can’t put a name to it, but whatever it is, it sends a jolt of undiluted desire right to my groin. I’m grateful for the layers of clothing and blankets that hide my burgeoning erection from view.

“I come back,” Kári announces, jumping to his feet. There’s a burst of cold air when he opens the door, and the fire flickers angrily at the disturbance. The flames have barely settled when the door opens again and Kári, apparently ever true to his word, reenters and crosses the room in two giant steps, grinning from ear to ear. “Close your eyes.”

I do as instructed. However, I open them wide again a few seconds later when Kári slips his hands under my legs and behind my back and hauls me into his arms. A sense of unbalance and a fear of falling has me clutching at his sweater, but Kári just laughs.

“I do not drop you, I promise. I have birthday surprise. Close your eyes.”

In three strides we are outside the cabin—I can tell that much from the freezing wind buffeting my face—but Kári keeps moving. Given his steady, even breathing, carrying me doesn’t seem to be much of an exertion, and I marvel again at his strength. The one time Richard picked me up to carry me into his apartment, he was puffing within seconds and set me down as quickly as he could, practically dropping me. But then his muscles were nowhere near as developed as Kári’s, muscles currently pressing against my lower spine and the backs of my thighs, doing things to another part of my body upon which I’m trying damn hard not to dwell. So much for ending the improper fantasies….

We come to an abrupt halt, and Kári adjusts his grip on me.

“Can I look now?”

“Wait.” He turns a little to the right. “Okay, open your eyes.”

Holy…!

The night is awash with color. Streaks of green interspersed with flashes of red snake their way across the star-clad sky. The light shimmers and sways, dancing like the flames in the fireplace, and it is without a doubt the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I nearly ask Kári to bring me my camera, but then I remember the rattle of broken glass and decide not to bother. I’ll come back and see this again one day. I can photograph it then. Besides, a photo—no matter how good—could never hope to capture the sense of wonder I feel as I stare upward.

“You like it?” Kári’s voice is low, little more than a whisper.

“It’s amazing.” I tear my gaze away from the sky to look at him. “And to think you can see this all the time. Do you ever get bored of it?”

“Never. It is different every time. But we go back now. You must stay warm.”

I almost beg him for a few more minutes, but I
am
starting to feel the chill, and the last thing I want is for him for decide I need to go straight to hospital after all.

We return to the cabin, and Kári moves to set me back down on the sofa. In doing so, he leans over me, his face close to mine. I feel his warm breath against my cheek, and it blows away all rational thought and common sense from my mind. Before he can straighten, I fling my arm around his neck, pull him closer, and press my mouth to his.

His lips are cracked and rough, no doubt from the amount of time he spends outside, but the slight abrasion as they rub against my softer skin is making me dizzy with lust. Either that or the concussion is finally catching up with me. I imagine how it would feel to have those lips brushing over my nipple, grazing my inner thigh, or—God help me!—wrapped around my cock. And as for his hair, it’s every bit as silky as I thought it would be when I sink my fingers into the soft strands.