Page 37 of Heart of the Wolf
She didn’t even know what she was asking for.
“I know what you need,” he groaned, slipping his hand between their joined bodies. His thumb rubbed firm circles around her clit. Muscles flexed under her nails as they dragged over the expanse of his back, pulling a feral sound from him.
“That’s it, unleash yourself. Take what you will. Mark me, Brielle,” he said. “Make me yours.”
“Mine,” she moaned.
Primal noises fell from his lips, twisted with pleasure. Blood pooled beneath her fingertips, desperate for a tether to ground her from the ecstasy that threatened to steal her from this world. She clenched hungrily around him, no more than a wick about to catch fire.
He ripped her climax from her, making her vision darken. Black eclipsed all the color in his eyes as his body slammed into hers. Sticky streaks of her arousal coated her thighs, a sheen of sweat glistening on her chest and face. She rocked in Leif’s hold, quiet whimpers shaking her.
“I’m going to fill you with my seed. Keep you so full,” he said, his voice raw and claiming. “The gods will know you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she sighed.
A visceral roar rumbled in Leif’s chest as he spilled inside her, coating her in his release. His hips bucked—two, three, four times—before he stilled, empty and sated. Leif rolled them until he was on his back with Brielle collapsed on top of him.
He brushed the tangled curls off her face, and he kissed every part of her within reach. Her nose, her temple, and her brow. With a groan, he slipped his softening length from her. A needy noise trilled in her throat at the loss. He grinned, stroking her mouth with his thumb as wet heat trickled from her, coating her legs and the furs.
When she moved, Leif yanked her back, shaking his head.
“You stay with me. You belong in this bed, always. In the morning, you can clean.”
Too tired to argue, she fell on his chest, a spent pile of limbs. The flames of the fire licked at the hearth, lulling her. Colors blurred as sleep threatened to take her. Lips caressed her temple, and rough fingers stroked her spine.
On the edge of sleep, a pressure built at her apex. A tired whimper puffed past her lips, the skin dry and cracked. Her back arched, a weight keeping her anchored to the bed. A finger stretched her open once more as something between a protest and a plea left her mouth.
“Hush. There is only one place this belongs. You will only know me. Be molded perfectly to me. The memory of me inside you will be yours for days,” he said, pushing his release back inside her.
Without thinking, she rubbed the lines from his brow, the ones heavy with command. Leif wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pressed a tender kiss to the pad of her thumb. So many words remained unsaid between them. With her thumb still pressed to his lips, the lines etched into his face relaxed, leaving only unflinching resolve in their place.
“Marry me, hjartað mitt. Don’t let me wander this world without you again. We have known each other in many lifetimes. I have loved you in all of them as much as I love you in this one. Let us be together as we always have.”
The panicked flutter she expected never came. Instead, she stared at him, looking for something in his gaze that she didn’t find. He was her home; she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. His village was more a home than her father’s had ever been.
“You ask as if it were ever a choice for either of us,” she said.
She propped herself up on her elbow. Her lips twitched at the frown forming on his face. Two massive palms cradled her face, fingers tracing her freckles.
“There is always a choice. I would never steal yours from you. You are to be my kona. My partner in all things. But only if you wish it as much as I do.”
For the longest time, she assumed she’d always be alone. Or, if she were unlucky, to marry someone who demanded her obedience and silence. Someone who would dim what little light remained in her.
Instead, she had been blessed with the man before her, and he truly believed she might tell him no. The divots along his forearms made her hands skitter as she stroked them.
“I will always choose you,” she said. “I love you as you love me.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, hovering his lips above hers.
“Yes.”
The hairs on her nape prickled, gooseflesh chilling her arms. He stole the air from her lungs, taking all of her. The gentleness from his lips vanished as he nipped at her mouth until it was swollen and bruised. His tongue soothed the sting, murmuring Norse praises against the skin.
Ones she didn’t understand, but still calmed her.
“In the morning, I will arrange a celebration, a feast. I will announce it to the village and the clans. Everyone and all the gods will know who my heart belongs to.”
Chapter ten
