The decadent feel of her small, decidedly female body against his as it always did, caused the Viking’s muscles to quiver beneath his coat of platinum silver at the woman’s touch. It had always been forbidden to him and that was why he relished in it now. Still, it was forbidden to him and though Ragnar understood and knew he should create a chasm of distance between them he could not bring himself too. Even if Nerian was not willing to admit it to him he was confident that she was vulnerable and that it was his job, as her master, to protect her while she was weak. To take care of her like he had always done — or rather like he had thought he had always done. The touch of her cheek against his was a subtle gesture, and the Viking’s black, leathery nostrils flared with his deep breath.
Her question, seemingly so simple, was one that Ragnar struggled with for a few moments. Where do we go from here? They could not be stuck in the past, and though Ragnar did not hold a grudge against his brother for the atrocities Váli had committed Ragnar would kill him plain and simple if he came anywhere near him.
Because their lives were ruled by fate. Pre-determined at their birth.