To Rule the Alpha's Heart

4. A Long Night

Their boat reached the three longships that rocked along the Eatrela coast faster than Calla expected. She'd become lost, staring at her fading shoreline and home. Berlyne had been reduced to a bundle of faintly glowing lights on the horizon. If only she could have seen it beneath the sun's rays one last time...

She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away fresh tears before any of the men on the boat could witness her sorrow. She couldn't risk showing weakness– not to these people who undoubtedly preyed upon the weakness of others.

The men drove their paddles into the waves, causing enough resistance that their boat came to an abrupt stop at the largest of the longships. Almost as soon as the boat halted in the water, the men leapt to action. When Cyril wordlessly stood from his seat beside her, Calla followed suit. She didn't need to understand the barbaric language of the Nortend shifters to know that they would want her to board the longship that they'd arrived at.

As soon as she stood, a long rope ladder was thrown over the edge of the massive ship, falling down the length of the wooden planks until its end reached their dinghy. The two men closest to the rope ladder began their ascent, practically scaling the side of the vessel to the top. Calla's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

She'd never enjoyed heights. Even as a child, she'd never climb trees or play on the cliffs with the other children. Whereas others enjoyed the racing of their heartbeat when flirting with a long fall, Calla avoided it at all costs. This rope ladder was no different, except, if she fell, she'd land in a cold, black ocean. The long skirts of her wedding dress wouldn't make matters any easier, either.

Suddenly, she wished that she hadn't spoken so cooly to Cyril. The human man might have been the only one to understand her fears, but he'd already moved toward the ladder, placing his hands on the first horizontal grip. Now, Calla stood alone.

"Climb," a gravelly, masculine voice ordered from just behind her shoulder.

Calla's breath caught in her throat as she turned her face to Alpha Einarr. The man stood inches away from her. His bare torso was dangerously close to pressing against her back, and she stiffened. With Calla's head turned to the side, they practically shared the same breath. She immediately whipped her head forward again, facing the rope ladder that swayed from the deck of the main ship.

"I- I don't like heights," she explained, holding her head high despite the humiliation that threatened to warm her cheeks.

Alpha Einarr released a low, grumbling hum. For a moment, Calla feared that she'd angered her captor, but then she felt the lightest brush against the small of her back. With an impossibly gentle touch, the Alpha guided her forward, remaining one step behind her as they crossed the boat.

Calla had nearly reached the rope ladder when a wave swelled beneath the boat. The sudden shift caused her to lose her balance, but a pair of rough hands grasped at her waist before she could fall. She gasped, instinctively clutching Alpha Einarr's forearms to steady herself. Cords of muscle tensed beneath her touch, and Calla became increasingly aware that her back was pressed scandalously close to his front. Her shoulders nested almost perfectly against the swell of his chest, and her hips...

Her heart accelerated, spreading warmth throughout her veins. Her body's reaction to this man felt like a betrayal, and Calla immediately tore herself from his hold.

"Don't touch me." Calla scarcely recognized her own, icy words. Having regained her footing, she carefully moved toward the rope ladder again. This time, Alpha Einarr seemed to allow more distance between their bodies.

The side of their boat brushed against the wooden planks of the longship, eliciting a creak that made Calla cringe. She ground her teeth together, steadying herself before reaching a hand out to the first horizontal rung. As soon as her fingers found rope, she clamped down, knuckles turning white at the strain of her grip.