“If you hold that thing over the fire any longer, you might as well throw it away.”
Eivind looked at his marshmallow.
Or at what was left of it.
Black. Smoking. Probably carcinogenic.
“It's perfect.”
“It's burning.”
“That's called roasted flavor.”
Njord snorted and leaned back on the bench.
“That's called charcoal.”
Torv reached over Eivind's shoulder and pulled the stick out of his hand.
“Hand it here.”
“Mate!”
“I'm saving your life.”
“You are eating my marshmallow!”
“That too.”
Njord laughed and took a swig from his bottle.
It was warm.
Unusually warm for Ramsvik.
The longest day of the year had actually managed to drive away the clouds for a few hours, and half of Ramsvik seemed to have decided to celebrate this rare state together.
The town square was full.
Music played somewhere behind them. Children ran between the tables. Small fire pits stood everywhere, people held marshmallows over them, and someone had started hanging string lights between the trees.
He liked the summer solstice.
No patrol.
No problems.
No vampires.
At least he didn't smell any.
A damn good evening.
“Njord!”
He looked up.
Sindre stood a few meters away and held up two cups.
“Lager?”
“Go on, then.”
He threw him one.
Njord caught it.
“Thanks.”
His pack around him. No one hurt. No one had to chase after any bloodsucker tonight.
Just—
He stopped.
No idea why.
His body reacted before he even knew to what.
His head turned.
To the other side of the square.
People.
Dozens.
He let his gaze wander over them.
And then—
you.
Everything went silent.
You stood at the edge of the square.
Alone.
A woman he did not know.
You looked around.
Curious.
Maybe a little lost.
And his damn world—
shifted.
His breath caught.
It was as if someone had pulled an invisible thread straight through the middle of his chest.
Directly to you.
No.
He knew this feeling.
Of course he knew it.
He had seen what it did to others.
Had laughed about it.
Had told them they looked completely ridiculous.
And now he was standing there himself.
Unable to move.
And with every damn heartbeat, this feeling grew stronger.
His wolf was completely still.
That scared him almost more than anything else.
Normally he was instinct.
Heat.
Restlessness.
Territory.
Now there was only this absolute, almost eerie certainty.
You.
He put the bottle down on the bench and started across the square, and he did not stop until he was close enough to see your hands.