Horizon Ridge I can be you're saving grace if you'll let me

I know Bjorn's actions kind of conflict with Thistle's own but lol, he was freaking out in my head. xD

A slow smirk tugged at the edges of Björn’s lips at her comment, a soft snort escaping his leathery, black nostrils as his nose twitched once. “So I did,” He murmured coolly, letting his gaze linger on hers for a moment before he inhaled and looked away, eyes raking the earth and forest around them as if he were looking for any sign of potential danger, though he was confident that they were safe from intrusions within the heart, or the new, temporary heart of the Ridge. Even though his instincts never let his guard fully down, even within the proposed safety of pack borders. He had led enough raids in his first year alone to know that safety was just a fool’s dream, an illusion. “Old habits die hard they say.” Björn finished with a lazy, impish grin.

When the girl leaned forward to peek at his wound upon his shoulder, the scent of her heat wafted upon the lazy breeze, taunting him like the perfume of a much desired lover, that secret scent that was enough to force any man to his knees to stake his claim upon her. Lips quivered as they pulled back from his teeth, as the Viking nipped at her shoulder blade, teeth making to rake through fur in his attempt to push her away from him, though in reality he fought the very primal and feral urge to grasp her scruff and pull her into the embrace of his broad chest and strong arms.

The sheer force of will it had taken for him to put distance between them, his nostrils flared, his pupils dilated with the obvious want that surged through him like a fire was not something to be trifled with. “Odin help me, kona, what are you trying to do to me? Not so close.” He warned her, dropping his head so he was staring up at her cautiously, as if she were Loki trying to trick him. Maybe she was, even though there had been nothing suggestive, seductive, or inviting in her action. No, it had been innocent in it’s origin but her body was giving him different signals and while Björn had never dappled in un-consented sex with his kinsmen (though he had never stopped it, admittedly), Thistle was not a slave, neither was she a woman found and claimed as such on a raid, but he was beginning to see the temptation if only because her body was screaming at him, even if she did not want his advances.

Their topic of conversation switched back to her midnight lover and Björn simply shrugged. “I’m not judging you, I have no room too.” The Viking spoke simply, quietly, looking at any place other than her, afraid that he would not be able to stop himself from accepting the invitation that was pouring off every pore of her body if he did look at her.