Page 81 of Heart of the Wolf
“I’m telling our daughter, you can listen too if you wish,” he smirked.
Brielle rolled her eyes.
“Helgi,” he began, puffing out his chest like one would when telling a tale to a child. “Was a great warrior. He fell in love with Sigrun, a powerful woman who led a group of Valkyries. They marry and have many sons. But Sigrun was promised to another, and her father and brothers wished vengeance. Helgi charged into battle, slaying anyone who threatened their happiness.”
Leif winked, making Brielle laugh.
“Helgi spared Sigrun’s youngest brother, Dag, when he swore fealty.” A long silence stretched out, and Brielle waited with bated breath for him to continue. “Dag betrayed them, killing Helgi with a spear from Odin. Helgi waited in Valhalla, and once Sigrun joined him, they were reborn as Helgi and Kara, a strong Valkyrie. And in this new life, they found each other again, their love guiding their steps. It is said that in every life, they find each other.”
By the end of the story, a stream of tears flowed down her crimson-stained cheeks. About halfway through, she had connected the tale to the one her mother so often told her. At the core, they were the same. Two souls bound for one another in every lifetime.
Granted, this version was slightly different from the one from her childhood. Her mother trimmed some of the harsher parts involving the betrayal and murder whenever she told Brielle the story before bed. That had almost been them today, their kin threatening to tear them apart.
From under red-rimmed, puffy eyes, she glanced at Leif.
“Úlfr, why?” she sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That was sad. What does that have to do with us and whatever comes after?”
“Is it sad?” he asked, flicking a tear from her cheek. “Their love was so strong that it transcended a single lifetime. Their souls were destined always to find each other. Remember, hjartað mitt.” He laced their fingers together, bringing their joined hands to his heart. “Remember that Freyja guided us, that our souls knew each other before we did.”
A gradual understanding settled in her bones, mirrored by the hesitant parting of her lips.
“You think we are Helgi and Sigrun? Reborn in this lifetime.”
“Of course not,” he chuckled, making her scowl. “That is a story made up for children.”
Brielle leveled a stern glare at him, frustrated by his roundabout storytelling. Leif took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, feathering the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
“But that does not mean we cannot be Leif and Brielle, destined to find each other in every life. In every universe.”
A swell of something she couldn’t place tightened in her chest.
“You are strong, a warrior like Sigrun. You may not wield a blade, but your will is stronger than steel. The mightiest of blades that make mountains bend. We may face trials, but our souls will always find each other. You have nothing to fear. For there is no place you could go that I wouldn’t follow.”
She sealed her lips to his in a slow, savoring kiss. Too exhausted to pull away, her mouth lingered against his, allowing his words to fill every fractured part of her soul.
The burden, the fear, the grief for what could have happened dulled, replaced with warmth and an unwavering certainty that no matter what, they would never be alone. She burrowed back into his chest, reveling in the heat that radiated from him.
Her wolf was a man of few words, but the ones he did speak echoed deeply. Profoundly.
“My wolf,” she said, pressing her lips to his.
“Hjartað mitt,” he said, sliding a hand up her thigh, rucking her shift around her hips. “Let me remind you. How much I love you. So, you never forget.”
He sat between her legs, filling her in one, deep stroke, telling her how much he loved her until she came, clenched around his cock.
Chapter twenty-two
Brielle
The days blurred together; Brielle was weaker than she realized. Leif refused to let her leave their bed, saying she needed to rest until the baby came. It didn’t help that whenever Astrid visited, she agreed with him. While Brielle adored being doted on, she was restless and needed something to occupy her.
Every morning, Leif changed her dressing, kissing the wound as it faded a little more with each passing day. Despite her protests, he insisted on feeding her, bathing her, and braiding her hair.
The outside world ceased to exist. Nobody bothered them. Even though she pretended to hate all of Leif’s fussing, she secretly enjoyed it.
With Herja gone, much of the derision among the clans quieted. Amund tended to the day-to-day. While Brielle was happy to be home with her wolf, something unseen ticked in the background, chipping away at their precious alone time.
“Just until the baby comes,” he reassured. “Once Einar returns with the longships, I will sever the head from the serpent, and all this will be behind us.”
