Page 65 of Heart of the Wolf
There had been growing tension among the clans, pulling Leif away for longer. Astrid did her best to keep Brielle occupied, showing her the best places for berries and apples.
The only thing that made the lonely days easier was that every night, without fail, Leif returned to her. Often with fresh scars adorning his body, bleeding into the old ones. Brielle tended to his injuries while he fussed more over her, unbothered by scratches.
Instead, he made her eat until she couldn’t anymore, combing and braiding her hair while showering her belly with kisses and whispering sweet words to their child, telling them stories of gods and monsters.
A warm breath fanned over her face, pulling her back to the present.
The moon rose higher, casting the valley in a serene glow of silver. Brielle picked flowers within reach without getting up, making a bouquet before wrapping a wayward thread around it and laying it between her and Leif. Sometimes, she found it easier to drift off when they were like this, to let her tired eyes flutter shut.
“We haven’t picked out a name,” Brielle mused, stroking the wolf’s face with her eyes closed. “Orion or Leo could be nice,” she said, a mischievous grin growing.
A deep howl fell from him, shaking the new leaves from their trees as the warmth of the white muzzle disappeared from her stomach. Four massive paws stretched out on the tender earth, Leif standing proudly above her. Those icy eyes glazed over while soft snorts puffed out his nose.
“I know. I know. Settle, Úlfr,” Brielle soothed, half laughing and not intimidated by the wolf’s hulking form.
Leif hummed a gentle growl that made her shake her head.
“A girl, yes, you are certain, I know,” she coaxed. “But we should be prepared for both outcomes. Orion or Leo, if it’s a son.” Leif dropped to his paws, snarling slightly as he returned his muzzle to Brielle’s belly protectively. “I like Astra, Idun, or Sól for a daughter.”
A long ear quirked, pointing straight toward the stars when she finished. Whenever they had spoken of names–boy or girl–he merely nodded, not offering any inkling as to what he desired. The twitched ear of his wolf had been the only sign she’d had that he was interested in a name at all.
“Which one did you like?” she smiled, rubbing his ear between her thumb and forefinger. “Astra. Our daughter would be one of the stars.”
When Leif didn’t react, she continued.
“Idun. Eternal youth and spring. Hope and renewal,” Brielle pressed on, determined to figure out which name heliked. “Or maybe it was Sól. The sun personified. Full of warmth and power.” Still nothing from her wolf. “You’re insufferable,” she pouted, trying to shove his heavy head aside with no luck. “Odin, help you, Leif. You drive me mad on purpose.”
The only response to her admonishment was a low chuff from her wolf before their baby kicked, extinguishing their bickering. Instead, Brielle chased Leif’s warmth, counting the constellations and stifling a string of mounting yawns, tracing the lines of Ursa Major with her finger.
Chapter seventeen
Brielle
Lips brushed along her temple, while a callused hand rubbed slowly over her belly. Brielle keened, stretching out her limbs and sweeping aside the halo of wild curls until they fanned behind her. Sleepily, she reached out, closing her tiny hand around a muscled arm.
“Hjartað mitt,” a gruff voice whispered in her ear. “Good morning, my sun and sky.”
“Úlfr.”
Her brows knitted together as Brielle blinked, eyes adjusting to the bright morning light streaming in through the smoke holes in the roof. Struggling to place where she was, Brielle shifted her tired limbs, sitting up and staring at the roaring fire in the hearth.
“Our daughter lets you rest best under the moon and stars. I let you sleep in our valley until the sun started to wake, and then I brought you back to our bed.”
That deep, assured tone settled her. She relaxed into the warmth of the solid arms circling her. Leif burrowed his face into her mane, sweeping the hair aside to trail his nose along the hinge of her jaw before kissing the lobe of her ear.
“Are you hungry, kona?”
Brielle grimaced, the thought of food unpleasant as their baby kicked happily near her ribs. Licking her lips, she laced her fingers with Leif’s, running their joined hands along her stomach. A series of solid kicks jutted close to her bladder, making her grumble.
“Your son is quite active this morning, meaning I am not very hungry,” she snickered, only slightly bothered. She wouldn’t mind all the rolling around if it didn’t twist her stomach in knots.
“Our daughter,” he emphasized, “is merely content. She is happy in your belly. But you should eat. Some nuts at least.”
“If this baby would leave, I would eat more. Time to get out, little one,” she chuckled, knowing it wasn’t quite time yet, but still wanting her body to be her own again.
“A healer once told my mother of a remedy to hurry along stubborn babies.”
A dangerous, wolfish grin stretched his lips, making Brielle wary.
