Page 12 of Wulver's Flame

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I turned, grinning at the way she hid her face in the pelt like a shamed bride.

“Monster?” I drawled.“Já. But it wasn’t the gods who collared you,elska. That was all me.”

“I’m not your darling,” she growled. “I’m not your anything.”

I ignored her and threw on some clothes.

My mate had tried to kill me on our wedding night. She didn’t yet understand that it wouldn’t have worked. She had a warrior’s spirit and an iron will—one I’d wear down, morning sun by morning sun, until she broke.

Until she was ready.

I’d coax her into heat.

Bite her while my knot swelled inside her.

I’d force her to feel every dark part of me through the bond.

Chapter 6

Liùsiadh

For a beast, he kept a civilised home. Better built than our own hall or storeroom. He had iron, bronze, and carved wood—sturdy, well-joined, no gaps in the walls. Even the metal wasn’t just for show—it braced the beams, reinforced the door. Whoever made this place knew their craft.

I wrapped a pelt around me.

The chain rattled.

I tugged hard. It didn’t budge from the ceiling beam.

That black bull’s arse. He’d chained me like livestock.

He returned with a wooden platter.

Cured meats. Smoked salmon. Blood sausage. Porridge. My belly growled loudly.

I hadn’t eaten properly in days. I’d meant to shame Da with my silence and hunger strike, but now guilt gnawed at me.

He placed the food on the bed and sat nearby, eating quietly.

I reached for the porridge first.

His eyes burned into me, silent and scorching.

The first spoonful hit my tongue.

Honey.

I froze.

Honey was sacred and very costly. A rare delight we saved for festivals or new moons. I could count the times I’d tasted it.

I said nothing but scraped every last grain from the bowl.

He nudged the wooden platter toward me.

“Eat,” he rasped.

The sound made my belly clench—not from hunger this time, but something darker. Deeper.

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