Page 42 of Heart of the Wolf
Leif snarled, teeth flashing. The points of his incisors elongated into pearlescent fangs, glittering in the moonlight, the wolf threatening to tear from within him of its own accord. In a blink, Leif closed his hand around Styrr’s throat. A strangled laugh choked beneath Leif’sunrelenting grip, a sinister mirth swimming in Styrr’s features.
“Astrid,” Brielle started, unsure she wanted to know what Styrr said.
“It would never happen, Brielle.”
“What would never happen?”
“Styrr said that when he kills Leif,” she paused, blonde hair spilling over her breasts. “When he kills Leif, he will take you as his thrall. Make you his personal hora,” she continued, catching the fear in Brielle’s eyes. “Styrr cannot best him.” Astrid turned Brielle until they faced each other. “My Amund would protect you.” Astrid kissed her cheek. “If the worst were to happen. Amund would honor Leif and challenge Styrr. His threat would never come to be.”
The crowd thinned, people moving out into the snow. Styrr left, hissing a parting phrase over his shoulder. Leif and Amund strode to their sides. Something glacial slid into place over Leif’s eyes, encasing any remaining warmth in a frosty haze.
Nimble fingers undid the fastening of his furs, removing his cloak and tossing it on a nearby bench. The expanse of his chest strained under his leathers.
A strange chill tingled in her fingertips. She had devoted her entire life to being a balm for the sick. Tending to injuries, whispering reassurances, and gently holding fading hands as souls transitioned so they wouldn’t be alone.
Here, however, blood and strength were coveted more than peace. A Konungr didn’t show weakness. Leif wasn’t afforded that luxury.
How did she embrace his violence? Reconcile who he was versus who she was. Accept it as an intrinsic part of the man who owned her heart.
Heat billowed off him as he palmed the back of Brielle’s head, guiding her mouth to his in an urgent kiss. Unspoken promises followed the swipe of his tongue, easing her fears. He pulled away, his thumb stroking at her nape.
“Go home, hjartað mitt. Wait for me there.”
The harsh cut of his words clipped the gentleness of his command. He spoke in the cadence of a man unaccustomed to being questioned.
In that moment, staring into the depths of his soul, she knew who he was and what she would accept.
All of him.
She planted her palm firmly on his chest, in a gesture only he understood. Whatever waited for him outside that longhouse didn’t alter the rhythm. It remained steady and strong, like him.
She narrowed her eyes, flexing her fingers on the buckles of his leathers.
“I’m not leaving,” she said, her tone confident and her jaw set.
Amund snorted, the sharp sound cut off when Leif glared at him. Smirking, he slipped an arm around Astrid’s waist, pulling her to his side and kissing the top of her head.
“Úlfr,” Amund said. “Your firebird does not like you clipping her wings.”
Leif leaned in and whispered something to Amund without looking away from Brielle. After Amund nodded, Leif covered her hand, still anchored on his chest.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. “You will not forget what you see. The ground will be bathed in crimson. I am not merciful, Brielle. Do you wish to see me like that?”
Memories of that day in the forest floated to the front of her mind, of the wolf, of Leif slaughtering those men. Visions flashed of bright white fangs piercing flesh and severing limbs, crushing bones.
None of it bothered her.
Not how the blood of those men stained his white fur or how their bodies twitched with a final breath of life before stilling.
Something hardened in his eyes, and it wasn’t fear that made him try to send her away. Leif didn’t doubt his victory. No, he worried for her, wanting to protect her gentle soul from something so brutal. Except it wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t fragile. Not anymore.
“I have already seen you like that.”
“As the wolf, not as a man.”
Her fingers tingled as his thumb stroked her knuckles.
“It’s all you,” Brielle said. “Man or wolf makes no difference.” She teetered on her tiptoes, pressing a reverent kiss to his jaw. “I’m staying.”
