Page 63 of Wulver's Flame
He bent low, panting over my back, lips brushing my ear.
“You’re never going to be empty again, Liùsaidh,” he growled.“Your womb is mine. Your body is mine. And this,” he cupped my belly reverently,“this is only the beginning.”
I moaned and milked him again until more hot seed lashed my insides. His words sounded like another prophecy.
I whimpered as he rolled us to our sides, still knotted deep, my leg draped over his thigh. The shift stretched me again, and I cried out—half pleasure, half protest.
“Shhh, Úlfa mín,” he crooned into my hair.“Just a little more. Let your cunt mould to it. Let me stay inside my pretty little bloom.”
His palm traced over the curve of my belly, then back again, slow and reverent.
“You feel that?” he whispered.“That’s our pup, warm and safe. Fed by your body and kept by mine.”
His knot throbbed inside me, and I felt the lazy trickle of seed leak from where we were joined. It was obscene how full I was. Full of him. Full of life. I couldn’t tell us apart, where the bond ended and my body began.
“You’re dripping around me,” he said, voice thick with smug pride.“Can you feel it, Liùsaidh? Your greedy little cunt hasn’t let go of me once.”
His other hand slid up my ribs, over the side of my breast, thumb teasing the heavy tip. I gasped.
“You’re made for this,” he murmured.“For being stuffed full. For carrying my children. For keeping me buried deep inside you, where I belong.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The knot still stretched me so wide that all I could do was cling to his arm and breathe through the overwhelming fullness.
His fingers curled protectively over my navel again.
“As soon as your greedy little cunt releases me, I need to feed our pup,” he teased.
If he had his way, I would never leave our bed. I smiled and placed my hand over his. I didn't need to say a word.
He could feel everything.
Chapter 29
Vargr
The moment her scream tore through the longhouse, Sköll nearly clawed his way out of my skin.
“She’s fine,” Brynhild said through gritted teeth, shoving another steaming cloth into my hands.“You’re the one I’m worried about.”
Another howl echoed from the bedchamber. My knees nearly gave way.
“By the Gods, Vargr!” Liùsaidh roared.“I swear on Morrígan’s foot, I will slice your cock off and roast it over an open fire if you ever put it in me again!”
Sköll whined.
Brynhild didn’t even flinch.“That’s normal.”
“She said roast it—”
“Be glad she didn’t say eat it.”
I stood frozen at the door, cloth in one hand, heart in the other. My mate was a flame made flesh—and that flame was currently threatening to geld me with her bare hands.
“I’ll cut it off in chunks, Vargr! One slice for every thrust you gave me with that damned beast of yours!”
Brynhild shoved me aside.“If you’re going to stand there terrified of your husfreyja, at least boil more water.”
I obeyed. What else could I do?
