Page 72 of Heart of the Wolf
She stalked toward Brielle, the blade rolling threateningly between her fingers. Refusing to show fear, Brielle trained her gaze forward, focusing on a tapestry depicting Freyja. Warmth heated her cold fingertips as memories of Leif came to the surface.
Dirt-caked nails pinched her chin. The woman ripped the necklace from Brielle’s throat, sending the pieces of amber skittering across the floor. It was a piece Leif had given her after their wedding.
Anger blurred out rational thought. Brielle reared back and spat on the woman, smiling triumphantly when it landed below her eye. But her victory was short lived.
The wild woman retaliated with unnatural speed. A burning sting radiated over Brielle’s cheek, quickly replaced by a throbbing ache right over her eye. The ring on hercaptor’s hand cut into Brielle’s face, causing a line of blood to trickle down. Brielle licked the bead of blood from her lips, swallowing the coppery tang, snarling at the woman.
A menacing figure loomed above her, the woman cast in a demonic glow. She tapped the tip of her dagger on Brielle’s lip, humming a chilling song before trailing the blade between the valley of her breasts, over the swell of her stomach, and stopping at her navel.
“Mind yourself, girl, or I’ll carve that babe from your belly and feed it to the pigs.” The tip dug in just enough to make Brielle gasp, her eyes blown wide. “We have to make sure your wolf recognizes you when he arrives. I’d rather not disfigure you until he’s here to watch. That would ruin the fun, don’t you think?”
Chapter nineteen
Leif
The sun and the moon both hung in the sky, the earth blooming with light despite the end of the day nearing. Summer was a nice reprieve from the harshness of winter, but the amount of daylight played with Leif’s sense of time. Side by side, he and Amund walked through the woods. Quiet, save for the hoot of awakening owls. Blood matted his braids, and new gashes marked his chest, ones for Brielle to heal while scolding him.
A smirk curled on his lips as his fingers traced the bloody wounds.
“Your firebird will slaughter you one of these times, Úlfr,” Amund snorted, wiping scarlet droplets from his face.
“And I will spread my arms wide and welcome it,” Leif laughed.
Like a mighty Valkyrie, his kona was spirited and strong, and he would have it no other way. As the other half of his soul and heart, she could be nothing else. She tempered him. And their daughter would be just as beautiful, kind, and powerful as her mother, for his Brielle was all those things.
If Leif feared anything in this world, it was his wife. She could take out his still-beating heart, and he would thank her for it.
Whatever she willed was hers.
Leif grabbed his axe, scratching his beard as they followed a few paces behind the other men.
One clan had refused to send any of their warriors on the raids; that only meant one thing. Leif and Amund rounded up a few men and went to the clan’s village, unsurprised to see them preparing for battle. Their boyish features and carefree laughter died at the sight of a massive wolf stalking toward them.
Amund and their men flanked Leif, though he didn’t need them.
It was a statement, a show of unity. A reminder of what loyalty garnered them.
One by one, he severed heads from torsos and ripped bones from flesh until blood stained the lush undergrowth.Weapons clattered to the ground, and men dropped to their knees, bowing and begging for mercy.
When he was younger, Leif had been merciful; that time was now long gone. He would work through every traitorous clan if he had to, bringing them all to heel with blood and death if the gods demanded it.
Amund wrapped a thick forearm around Leif’s shoulder, shaking him. “Úlfr, would you like me to stay for dinner or take Astrid home so you and your firebird can practice making other babies?” he snickered.
Before Leif responded, a blur of flaming hair jogged toward them. Liv pursed her lips, appearing more haggard than Leif had ever seen her. A ball sank into the pit of his stomach, foreboding and unnerving.
“Úlfr. Amund,” she called, straightening her shoulders like she was preparing for battle. “They’re gone.”
“Who’s gone?” Amund snapped, running a scarred hand through his bloody hair.
“Brielle and Astrid. They went for a walk this morning and never returned. No one can find them. We searched for hours. It looks like there was a scuffle by the shore.”
“Show me,” Leif hissed, clutching Liv’s arm harder than he intended.
Leaves blurred into a hazy mass of green, and the ringing in his ears grew worse with each step he took. For someone as stoic and composed as Amund, Leif felt thethundering of his heart and the thrumming of his pulse. Even in his human form, Leif’s senses were heightened. He scented his friend’s wrath, mingling with the burnt edge of fear for the missing piece of his heart.
As angry as Amund was, it paled compared to the rage that stormed inside Leif. The sky opened, lightning and thunder striking around them as if Thor sensed the impending battle.
When they reached the shoreline, Liv and Amund exchanged words Leif didn’t hear. After a minute, the redhead turned to face the ocean. Leif crouched, running his fingers along the muddied footprints. The rain had started to wash them away, but two small sets were still visible, with another larger pair coming in from the forests.
