Page 80 of The Source of Storms

I tugged off my outer layers and grabbed the only set of somewhat decent underwear I had –– a silky bralette andpanties trimmed with lace. I silently thanked El for bringing me to that shop in Avanis, and thanked myself for packing them for this trip, although it had felt ridiculous at the time. I had a quick bath in the shared bathroom down the hall, then pulled a clean, loose shirt over my head and snuggled under the heavy comforter. I counted the days from my last cycle as I waited for Byrgir. Just in case.

One glass of wine and a hunk of sourdough later, Byrgir’s footsteps thudded on the floorboards of the hallway. I heard him pause before he opened the door. I took a deep, steadying breath.

The door swung open, and Byrgir smiled at me. “Look at you, Little Lamb. All cozied up in bed.” I blushed under his gaze, and his tone turned more serious. “We don’t have to share a room, you know. If you would rather not.”

“I want to.” My answer was definitive. I knew what I wanted.

He smiled and sauntered in, removing his cloak and dropping his pack. “Any left for me?” He inclined his head toward the tray of food.

I nodded. “Come sit.” I patted the bed next to me and the tray of food, then grabbed the bottle of wine and a glass off the bedside table. I poured some for him.

He tugged off his wet boots and sat next to me on the bed. My body hummed with his proximity. My chest tightened, and my stomach twisted with nervousness.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, biting into a hunk of bread.

“Alright, I think. Tired. A little overwhelmed. I don’t think it has all sunk in yet.”

“I’m sure it will take some time.” He sipped his wine. “It’s late. You need to sleep. We have a long ride tomorrow.”

“You always think I need to rest,” I countered. He was right, as usual. The spring sunrise was already beginning to brighten the sky, and I was exhausted.

“Because you always do,” he replied.

“I’m too awake for sleep now,” I argued.

He smirked mischievously. “So am I. But I also need to make sure you make it back to Rhyanaes in one piece.”

“In one piece?” I asked, feigning confusion.

He chuckled. “Of course. What do you mean?”

“What if I want you to tear me apart?” It was probably the stupidest thing I could have said, but I couldn’t take this teasing anymore.

He looked at me, and then we both burst into laughter.

“That is, without a doubt, the worst line I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” I laughed.

He leaned in toward me. His hand brushed my cheek and he stroked a strand of hair from my face as we smiled at each other, still chuckling. My blood was lightning in my veins. He looked into my eyes with an intensity I did not know if I could bear.

“I’ll excuse your terrible flirting though, because there is nothing I want more, Little Lamb,” he said, his voice barely more than a soft growl.

He leaned in and kissed me deeply, fully, and I returned it with infatuated passion. As if we could consume each other. As if nothing else in this world existed. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. He climbed on top of me. He kissed me deeply, moving from my lips to my jawline, down my neck. I slid my hands up his muscled back and shoulders, then pulled his shirt up. He pulled back with a devilish smile and removed it.

The extent of the tattoo that covered his hands was revealed. From his fingers, up his arms, and across his chest wound beautiful traditional knotwork decorations in the northern Seonaid style. A vicious wyrm snaked up one arm on a backdrop of waves. The other arm was decorated similarly, but with two fighting bears. Two intricate, swirling wolves faced each other onhis chest; one held the sun in its jaws, and the other the moon. On the left side, the patterns climbed his neck to join the raven on the side of his head.

I had only a moment to take in the tattoos before he leaned back in and kissed my neck, one hand wandering up my shirt, caressing my bare skin with tantalizing slowness. I pulled him into me. His touch, his kiss drove away my anger, my melancholy, the cocktail of emotions I had been swallowing since we arrived at my previous home. I felt nothing but my ache for him, our connection in this moment.

He kissed down my neck and pulled my shirt up to reveal my stomach, then kissed the tender, sensitive skin of my midsection. I squirmed in delight as his lips sent bolts of energy through me that were nearly painful in their intensity. I noticed his tattoos also covered the entirety of his back, but didn’t have the chance to look closely at what they depicted.

He leaned back up to me, grabbed my jaw gently but firmly, and kissed me deeply.

“I think you should sleep, Little Lamb,” he growled against my lips.

“How could I sleep now?” I asked.

He smiled, that beautiful, charming smile, but there was something more behind it, a hunger that I could feel within myself. A devouring longing commanding to be satiated. He looked at me as if he would consume me.

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