Page 71 of Dark Fate

He flashes me a grin, a picture of smug satisfaction. His eyes dance with mischief and something deeper, something that makes my heart skip a beat.

"All's fair in love and war," he quips, echoing a truth as old as time yet never quite so literal—or thrilling—as it is in this moment between us, this perfect, shining moment that feels like a gift. "Not bad for a cute human," he husks out, the words both teasing and reverent, a contradiction that sends a thrill through my veins.

Mustering what little defiance I can, I shoot him a look from under my lashes, my eyes narrowed in a playful glare. "I'll show you cute, Mister Fang-and-Claw," I growl, my voice a low purr that's half threat, half promise.

His only response is a low, rumbling laugh that sends delicious tremors coursing through me, a sound that's equal parts amusement and anticipation. And I know, in that moment, that the game's far from over between us, that this is just the beginning of something wild and wonderful and wholly our own.

In the distance, the trees rustle in the cool forest breeze, spectators to the next thrilling round of our eternal spar, our endless dance of love and war, and everything in between. As I gaze up at Rhyland, the man who holds my heart and future in his hands, I feel a fierce, wild joy rising inside me, a joy born of love, laughter, and the thrill of the fight.

Danica

30

Iuncurl in the squishy comfort of the bed, hissing a bit as my muscles throw a fit—the morning sun slinks in, turning the tent into an amber sanctuary. I’m basically one big bruise thanks to yesterday’s boot camp—Rhylandstyle—each twinge a not-so-subtle nod to his no-mercy training methods.

But under all that ouch, there’s this new power simmering in me, this raw energy that’s itching to show the world it's not just about survival anymore; it’s about kicking some serious ass.

Rhyland’s all snuggled up to me, his body heat cranking up like my private little sun. I scooch even closer, taking a deep breath of that rich sandalwood and ocean blend that’s all him. It’s downright intoxicating how he’s bottled up the whole Norse coastline in his vibe.

He’s got that born-out-of-a-storm-on-the-high-seas aura, my very ownVike Spice. I let my hand wander over the landscape of his chest, my fingers dancing across each intricate ink stroke like they’re reading braille stories of his past.

His reaction's instant—a tightening embrace that melds me to all those hard planes and edges. His grip takes a tour on my hip, and shivers sprint down my spine.

"Good morning,Angel," he rumbles, his voice raspy with sleep and dripping with that husky morning allure.

My insides start doing acrobatics, a full-on Olympic routine, just from a few words.

"Morning," I echo back, pressing a trail of eager kisses downward, ensuring each tattoo feels the love. I lavish them with attention, treating every inked line like a guide leading straight to my chest—right to the very spot where my heart beats a rhythm for him alone.

"Mmm...baby, I could get used to this," he purrs, that deep voice vibrating straight through me all the way to my toes.

The evidence of his excitement is pretty hard to miss, with the sheets pitching a not-so-little tent. A cheeky idea flickers to life, and I can't help but think it's time to explore just how much 'morning glory' this Viking's hiding under there.

I kiss his chest, then work my way down to those hard, defined abs. I’m not just kissing, though—I’m giving them a little lick, too, tiny flicks of my tongue that seem to make him moan in delight.

I peel back the sheets, revealing more of his glorious form, and continue my slow, sensual descent.

I can’t help but be astounded by the sheer size of him every time I see his glorious member. His hands are all over my head and hair, eagerly grasping and pulling as I take him into my mouth.

His groan meets my eager moan as I wrap my lips around his veiny shaft, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him. With practiced skill, I swirl my tongue around the length of him, taking my time to relish every bump and ridge, a slow torture for us both.

When I reach his manscaped balls, I pause, letting the anticipation build before taking them into my mouth, one at a time, and rolling my tongue over them. I feel his body tense, his breath catching, and a surprised groan escapes his lips. "Fuck," he gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Eager for more, I take them both into my mouth, sucking gently as my hand strokes his thick cock. He tastes and feels exquisite, and I relish the power I hold in this moment.

"Goddamn,baby," he grunts, his voice gravelly and raw. "Keep going,Angel. You're driving me fucking wild."

I take him deeper into my mouth, my tongue dancing and swirling as I pick up the pace. He's a primal force, dominating me with his sheer size, his hands gripping my hair, pulling it back, exposing my throat. I gag slightly, and that only adds fuel to our fire.

"That's it, Angel," he commands, his voice a low, sexy growl. "Take it all, take every fucking inch. Show me how much you love being my cock-hungry slut."

His words are a brand on my skin, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. My body trembles, my lust flowing freely, and I moan my consent.

His eyes burn into mine, holding me captive, "You love it, don't you,baby?" he demands, his voice low and rough, his hand tightening in my hair. "You love getting fucked in that pretty mouth."

I moan, my throat constricting around him as tears well from the slight sting.

"Fucking say it, baby," he commands, his grip becoming fiercer. "Say it,baby. Admit how much you love my cock in your mouth—how dirty you are."

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