Page 44 of Heart of the Wolf
Amund’s mouth cracked with a broad grin, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. Strong fingers pulled an ornate dagger from Leif’s boot, and an eerie silence reclaimed the valley.
“May Valhalla welcome you,” Leif said. “And any others who challenge me.”
With regal confidence, he slit Styrr’s throat. The sneer on the man’s face fell as his body sputtered with its final, wet breath before crumpling to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Whatever declaration Leif made caused the celebration to resume, both Styrr and his challenge forgotten.
Ale flowed freely, many chasing the drunkenness that had faded in the last hour. Leif passed Amund his bloodied axe, the two embracing in a one-armed hug. The grimace on Leif’s face did not go unnoticed as he moved. He tried to play off the pain with a smirk when he rejoined Brielle.
“You’re hurt,” she admonished, crooking her head to see the stains on his tunic.
“Just a scratch,” Leif huffed, unconcerned by the blood.
“You don’t need more scars,” she sighed, her fingers hovering over the wounds.
“But these ones are for you, hjartað mitt.” His mouth rested on her forehead. “I wear them proudly.”
“Home. Now,” she said, curling her slender fingers around his wrist. “So, I can tend to these so-calledscratches.”
Amund bent at the waist, deep laughter rolling through him like a rippling tide. Even Astrid giggled beside them. “Go, Úlfr,” Amund said. “She may add a scar or two of her own if you don’t.”
In a flash of blonde hair, Astrid nudged Amund in the ribs, making him choke on another laugh. “Leave them.”
Following the now well-known path to the door at the back of the longhouse, Brielle maneuvered a willing Leif into his private quarters. His mouth quirked, even as pain twisted in the creases around his eyes.
A dull ache hummed behind her temple, worsening when she tried to rub it away. Her hands found her hips, happy that neither of them would have to deal with Styrr again, but annoyed by Leif’s blatant disregard for his own well-being.
“Off.” She gestured to his chest. “The leathers and the tunic.”
She huffed, blowing a curl off her face. Leif prowled toward her, his deft fingers freeing the straps and ties of his leathers and tunic, a predatory gleam in his eye. Firelight flickered across his jaw as his tongue ran over the points of his teeth.
“If you want me naked, kona.” He whispered the endearment like a vow. “All you need do is ask. I will always give you what you want. What you need.”
Leathers thudded to the ground, Leif wincing as he worked the ties of his tunic loose. Her lips pressed into a thin line, crossing her arms over her chest, saying nothing as the cream-colored garment, now redder than rubies, pooled on the floor.
The gash by his ribs was deeper than she first thought, with more minor nicks marring his chest and back. Luckily, nothing appeared too worrisome or life-threatening as long as she cleaned them.
“What I need, Leif.” Her tongue clicked the inside of her cheek. “Is for you to go sit on the edge of the bed. I’llbe over in a minute. To take care of you,” she added, her mouth thinning when he waggled his brows. “You’re in pain. Will this happen again? Because of me.”
At her pinched expression, the lingering mirth fell from his face. Fingers sticky with blood closed around hers, rubbing her knuckles.
“They may, but they will never succeed,” Leif purred in a low, confident sound that made her knees buckle. “Those unhappy with me have nothing to do with you. Styrr was only one of many who dislike how I lead. Many want their thralls, and were angry when I banished the practice. There are others. Kin even.” His face twisted before softening once more. “There always will be. Power spurs envy. But you have nothing to fear.”
“Kin?”
“Sometimes those closest to us are the loudest.”
“Astrid wants to rule?” she asked, trying to lighten the conversation.
A low rumble hummed in Leif’s chest.
“Should she choose to, I’d be felled in an instant. Woman is unyielding. The only one who could best me, besides you.”
She flashed him a tight smile, unable to stop from prying deeper.
“Who?”
“Do not worry,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.
