Page 79 of The Source of Storms

“I could be that home for you, if you choose.”

The depth of sincerity, of hope, of longing in his eyes made my heart swell and crack. It triggered an ache in me that was deeper than the desire rising alongside it. This was not just infatuation, nor a carnal curiosity. No, Byrgir stirred something in my very soul.

I looked into his eyes, lit by the otherworldly green glow. I did not need to use my power to sense what he felt.

He turned his body to me, his warm hand sliding up to cup my cheek. The roughness of his calluses was pleasant against my skin. As he brushed away a cold tear lingering on my lip, his eyes stayed on mine. I leaned my face into his hand and closed my eyes, savoring the warmth, the safety he radiated. I exhaled a slow breath, desperately trying to calm the ferventhammering in my chest, the near painful coiling and fluttering in my stomach. I felt as if my heart might burst, like I could not contain the immensity of love and desire within the limits of my body. The swing from devastation to radiance was too much for one physical body to bear.

I could not find the words to respond to his question. Anything spoken would not be a good enough answer.

I opened my eyes and met his, shining in the ethereal night.

His gaze dropped to my lips and he leaned in, an irresistible magnetism I could not fight drawing us together.

“I have wanted this, wanted you, since the day I found you,” he murmured across the tiny distance that separated our mouths now.

“Why didn’t you take what you wanted?”

“You were so free, so wild. I didn't want to tame you. I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

I smiled, and saw the corners of his lips rise in response, only slightly.

“I don’t want you to,” I whispered. “I want you to run wild with me.”

Our lips met softly, gently, but so naturally that it felt as if I’d kissed him a thousand times before. I felt the soft scratch of his beard, the careful caress of his lips, growing deeper, hungrier, more insistent.

His kiss dragged the longing from the depths of my bones and set it on fire. The desire that had been brewing since the day we met. Not the flame of heat and consumption, but the flame of the stars above us, the white-hot glow of life and creation. The love that I had tempered and dampened, had begged my foolish heart not to hope for. It raged to the surface of me with a fierce, desperate force.

I pulled back enough to speak, and whispered into the night, “I have always wanted you, Byrgir.”

He did not answer with words, just a low, deep growl as he claimed my mouth with his again.

He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close, pinning me tightly against his body. I slipped my hands behind his neck, into his hair, pressing myself against him as if my body would sink into his. As if the two of us combined would be enough to bear the enormity of what I felt. As if his steadiness, his kindness, the depth of his compassion and acceptance would finally be enough to quell my raging storm.

He drew back to meet my gaze, his thumb tracing my cheek. The searching of his eyes told me he was looking for my reaction, making sure I was alright. I pulled him in to kiss me again by way of answer.

His hand wove into my hair. He laced his fingers through it, firmly, and pulled my head back. His beard scratched and tickled my throat as he kissed my jaw, then just below it, pressing his lips hungrily into the soft skin of my neck.

I had never felt wanting as completely consuming as this.

Despite the fire raging within me, the cold of the night around us was sharp. Byrgir could feel the shivers wracking my body, and he pulled back, wrapping the blanket tightly around me. I snuggled into him, and he stroked my hair as I rested my head on his chest, wishing I could climb inside his clothes, inside his skin with him.

“We should find somewhere warm to spend the night,” he said, his breath stirring my hair.

“I don’t want this to end,” I said. “Ever.”

“It won’t, Little Lamb,” he mumbled, his voice a deep reverberation in his chest. “But it will if I let you freeze out here. Come on.”

He ushered me through the snow to the horses as the Spirit Lights danced above us.

∞∞∞

Byrgir lifted me from my horse and kissed me long and deep when we arrived at the inn. I felt myself begin to unravel, adding more evidence to my theory that my physical body could not, in fact, handle the rolling storm of desire rising inside me. Parting from him was a cruelty when he stepped away and led the horses toward the stable.

“Get inside, Little Lamb, and warm up,” he said with a grin as I clung a little longer to his cloak.

The hearth roared in the empty tavern, rolling dry heat throughout the room. The inn keeper, the same sturdy woman who had defended the inn with a battle ax during Litha, had clearly been awoken by our arrival. I paid her for a single room, three stalls in the stable, and whatever was left of dinner. She brought out a half of a loaf of sourdough, cheese, and hot spiced mead; she apologized that she had run out of soup. I assured her it was quite alright, that we had no business showing up this late and demanding food. I disregarded her repeated suspicious glances at my eyes and ears. I was just relieved her reaction wasn’t worse.

I made my way up to our room without waiting for Byrgir. I was freezing, starving, and too wracked with anticipation to wait idly. The room was tiny but cozy, with a small window looking over the town to the sea, and a bed large enough for two piled with heavy blankets and thin pillows. I remembered the first time Byrgir and I had traveled away from this village together. What I would have done then to have this warm, dry room.

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