Mine.
I crouched beside her and inhaled, low and slow, just above her collarbone.
Yes. All mine.
OURS. Sköll snapped, but he didn't growl or snarl because she was here. Naked. Ours.
I lifted her gently, careful of the chain, and laid her back in the bed. Her arms flopped over the furs, limp as a babe’s. A little whimper escaped her lips, but she did not wake.
I brushed a stray curl off her cheek and pressed my lips to her temple.
The low light from the hanging lamp tempted me. I carefully peeled the pelt away.
Her freckles were scattered across her neck and chest.
By Freyja.
Her pink-tipped breasts reminded me of summer berries. A small black spot was on the side of one breast—not a blemish, but a mark of beauty.
I gently traced my tongue around her sweet, rosy nipple. Her sweetness was too much, clawing at me. I suckled on her nipple. It hardened. I traced my tongue to her mark of beauty. My cock leaked in the pelt.
Then it hit me, her honeypot.
Slick.
I glanced at her face, but her slumber was deep. No doubt, my little mate had not slept well since she found out about the treaty and my trickery.
I tore the pelt away from her, and Sköll whined.
He never whined.
Ever.
He killed, maimed, and terrorised. And he loved it, but whine?
Never.
Our mate’s presence was changing him.
I glanced at the red fur above our mate’s gaping bloom.
Just one taste.
One flick of my tongue.
I gently pried my thumbs between her thighs until there was enough space.
The faint outline of her gaping bloom had my saliva dripping on her fur. I dipped my head, and by Odin’s sword, she was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
A nectar from the Gods.
I hungrily buried my face into her, cursing my beard as it impeded me. I wanted to tear her thighs apart and drink from her all night.
Sköll hummed in approval, giddy from pleasure.
I ignored him and licked her up and down until her little pearl caught my tongue. I tested it. Swirled my tongue around it, and the aroma of honey intensified.
She could be brought into heat. I could bond with her.