Rachel watched Kolbjorn feed the fire with a log, and it crackled as flames licked at the fresh wood. Darkness had returned to the room after they’d finally repaired the roof—just in time for the short winter day to end and a howling night to engulf the world.

Rachel and Kolbjorn sat by the fire, their legs almost touching. The proximity of Kolbjorn’s powerful body made her tingle all over, on top of the buzzing of her muscles from the physical strain of the day. The comforting smell of woodsmoke had returned in the room, but despite the fire, it was still cold in the shack, the patchwork that Kolbjorn and she had done with the roof had only provided a temporary solution.

Rachel eyed his gorgeous profile as he stared into the fire, his hazel eyes and chestnut-brown hair—such a lovely color—his high cheekbones and straight nose.

Rachel had a strange feeling, as if she and Kolbjorn were in between worlds, both shielded and threatened by the storm that cut them off from everything else, including their worries. And at least for now, just for this moment, when she could do nothing but wait, Rachel allowed herself to relax.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. When he glanced up at her, she smiled, the feeling foreign on her lips.

“Starving, but there’s nothing in the hut.”

“There is.” She rummaged in her purse.

She removed the bottle of wine, two packs with hot dogs and a bag of buns, all of which she had planned to use to distract the guards if necessary. But neither that nor her main distraction, a plastic bag filled with three hundred synthetic sapphires—she had planned to throw them on the streets and let people fight for them—was needed in the end.

She handed the hot dogs to Kolbjorn. He eyed them with curiosity and rustled the plastic wrapping between his fingers.

“What is this material? Is it leather? Slime? How is it made?”

Rachel opened her mouth to tell him the truth but stopped herself. She was not sure if she should trust him. It would give him even more power over her than he had now. The thought made her feel guilty because Kolbjorn had trusted her today.

“I don’t know how the material is made.” She had no idea how plastic was actually produced. “But we’ll eat what’s inside—the sausages and the bread—and we’ll drink the wine. We have fire, we have hot dogs—that’s what the sausages are called—and we have sticks. We’ll eat the best dinner in ages. For me, anyways. Can you roast them? I’ll open the wine.”

While Rachel twisted the metal cap off the Australian Shiraz, Kolbjorn broke open the pack of hot dogs and eyed them with curiosity.

“Never seen sausages like that,” he said.

“Just put them on a stick to roast them over the fire. Here are the buns. It’s nice if they’re toasted, too, but we don’t have a grill rack.”

Kolbjorn spitted the dogs on a thin twig and held it over the fire. The heavenly smell of roasted sausages filled Rachel’s nostrils and made her mouth water.

“Cheers,” she said, raising the bottle as if in a toast then taking a sip. The wine was good, and the rich, full taste of grapes and blackberries filled her mouth and slid down her throat, burning her stomach pleasantly. Her head began to spin almost immediately, alcohol hitting her system on an empty stomach.

She held the bottle out to Kolbjorn who shook his head curtly.

“Come on, you are a Viking,” she said, “aren’t you guys like big drinkers or something?”

“I am not. Never have been.”

“Why not?”

“Because alcohol clouds the mind and the judgment.”

“Yeah, it does. I could use some clouds in my mind right now. Plus, this is really good stuff.”

“If you say so.”

Rachel took another gulp and moaned, savoring the taste.

“Ah well, your loss, buddy. I fully intend to enjoy this evening because who knows, maybe I won’t have another one tomorrow.”

Even though she joked, the thought chilled her skin, and she chased it away. Not now. Tomorrow did not exist.

Kolbjorn watched her, and his gaze burned her skin, making her feel even more drunk.

“All these things,” he said, “the sausages, the wine. When people tasted the food you left in the cart, they said it had come from Valhalla. You cannot be from Valhalla. Where are you really from?”

Rachel took another gulp. She felt careless, joy filling her chest. The most handsome man she had ever seen sat by her side roasting hot dogs. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but she seriously considered just telling him. He had been honest with her. How badly could he really react? Maybe he would even cut her some slack. But most likely, he just would not believe her.

“I am from the future, Kolbjorn,” Rachel said, and hearing the words made the corners of her mouth curl. She was much drunker than she should have been after just a few sips.

“What?”

“I am from the future. From the year 2018. Almost twelve hundred years in the future.” She stared into space, considering the numbers she had just said. “Wow,” she whispered.

“Don’t think I believe you for a second,” Kolbjorn mumbled, although he thoughtfully regarded the plastic wrapping from the hot dogs, the bottle, screw top, and then somewhere under Rachel’s cloak—probably where her purse was—which made her cheeks burn.

Alcohol always made her stubborn, and proving to Kolbjorn that she was telling him the truth, became more important than anything in that moment. “You don’t believe me? How do you explain this?”

She found a chocolate bar in her purse, broke the wrapping and handed it to him. “Try it. It’s chocolate. Bet you never had this before. It’s delicious!”

While he turned the chocolate in his free hand and sniffed at it suspiciously, she rummaged for some more evidence. She found her wallet.

“Aha!” she said, and handed him her driver’s license. “Look at the date.”

Kolbjorn took the card and studied it, then picked at its laminated corners. “I can see that it’s a masterful portrait of you, but I don’t read these runes.”

“This masterful portrait is called a photo, and it’s done with a machine called a camera.”

His face had a blank expression. “A machine?”

“If you could read these ‘runes,’ you’d see that the year I was born is 1997 in the city called Chicago in the country of the United States of America.”

He frowned and eyed her up and down. One of the sausages exploded into an octopus form, and he removed the stick from the fire.

“From the future…” he said with a blank stare and an intonation that suggested everything finally made sense. “The iron wasp, the food and the drinks… The goddess dancing in the air, was it one of your future tricks, too?”

“Yep. A small projector, fits in the pocket.”

Kolbjorn’s eyes squinted.

“Suppose I believe you. How did you travel in time then?”

“There’s a golden spindle in Chicago, and when I touch it, I get sucked in and appear here. Three old ladies had it, but well”—her cheeks burned—“I stole it.”

Kolbjorn froze, his eyes wide. “Three old women, a golden spindle— They are the Norns, aren’t they?”

“Who?”

“Three Norns who spin people’s fates. They have the power to do anything with people’s lives. So it must be true. They must have sent you here.”

Kolbjorn studied her. “Give it to me,” he stretched his hand out for the bottle. Rachel handed it to him, surprised. “Not every day that I meet someone from the future.”

He took a big sip, and once he removed the bottle from his mouth, he looked at it appreciatively and smacked his lips. Rachel wanted to kiss those lips, to feel them sucking not at the wine, but at her breasts, brushing over her skin. A tremor of warmth went through her.

He drank. “The sausages are ready.” Kolbjorn waved the stick with the dogs.

Rachel reached for the pack of buns. “Put one in a bun, like this.” She removed one sausage, burning her fingertips a little, and put it in a bun. “There should be ketchup and mustard in my purse.” She found the small packets, ripped open the ketchup and squeezed a long line along the sausage. “Eat and repeat!”

She handed him the hot dog and he took it and almost swallowed it whole. “Mmmm,” he moaned, licking his fingers. Rachel bit her lip, her mouth watering from the sight.

She made a hot dog for herself and bit into it. The juice of the sausage with a hint of woodsmoke sprung onto her tongue, and she thought she had never tasted anything so good.

“The food and the wine are from the future,” Kolbjorn said, taking another sip from the bottle. “Odin would be jealous, but the Norn must be laughing at me right now! A jarl’s bastard stuck in a hunting cabin with the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and she’s from another time.”

Rachel’s cheeks burned despite herself at his compliment. It must be the wine talking. He didn’t mean what he said, but Rachel really wished that he did.

“She must be laughing at me, too, then,” Rachel said, taking the bottle from him. And as their fingertips touched, their eyes locked, and Rachel’s heart raced five hundred miles per hour. She couldn’t remove her hand. It was as if they were glued together, as if the whole tingling world was created by their touch. “Making me care about someone I really shouldn’t,” she whispered.

“What?” Kolbjorn practically choked on the word.

Rachel removed her fingers, the bottle clenched in her hand. Her skin tingled where they had touched. Her lips pressed against the wet glass opening to take a sip, and she thought that this was where his lips had been just now and that it was as if they were kissing through the bottle. She closed her eyes.

“Kolbjorn, I really should not say this, but you are a great guy. If I met you in my time—”

She stopped herself before she could say too much, before she could say the words that would change everything.

But Kolbjorn’s eyes burned her. From hazel they darkened to mahogany, fire dancing in them.

He shifted closer to her, and her breath caught. “Then what?”

She swallowed. “I’d be in trouble.”

He shifted again, until he was sitting right next to her, and his nearness made Rachel’s hands and knees weak. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, catching a lock of her hair, and electricity tingled through her skin. “You are in more trouble than you know,” he said.

He took her shoulders and pulled her to him, his mouth covering hers. Lost in the wildfire that spread through her body, she thought that he was right.