Page 84 of Heart of the Wolf
“Litill úlfr,” he whispered, brushing his lips over his daughter’s forehead while rocking her.
“We have to give her a name,” Brielle said, her lashes fluttering on the cusp of sleep.
“Rest.” Leif shook his head. “Be patient; she will show us her name when she is ready.”
***
Over the next two weeks, Brielle slept when she could, which wasn’t often. Their daughter was restless. Even in Brielle’s or Leif’s arms, the crackle of cries didn’t cease. Between nursing and soothing her, Brielle never rested. Whenever she felt like she was going to break down, all shehad to do was look at the crystal blue eyes in her arms, and a calm breeze eased her teetering resolve.
Leif had Amund oversee the clans while he hunted, spending all his remaining time with them. Scarred arms rocked their daughter, taking her on walks through the village to show her off while Brielle stole a few minutes of precious sleep.
Even if she protested as the bundle left her embrace.
“Give her back, she’s mine. I made her,” Brielle pouted.
“Ours, kona. I distinctly remember being there when we made her.”
***
Brielle
Whenever Brielle asked about a name, Leif smiled and said, “Not yet.” And Brielle relented to him, content with showering their daughter with kisses, feeding her, and rocking her until Leif was ready to name her.
After a solid night of sleep, Brielle washed and braided her hair while Leif murmured a story to their daughter. Appreciative eyes roamed over, drinking her in greedily while she changed. Any lingering concerns she had about her new body disappeared when Leif stared at her like she was the only source of water in a desolate plane.
“The ships are on the horizon,” he said, his voice gruff with command. “Will you and our daughter welcome them with me?”
Brielle nodded, slipping into a delicate silk dress for the first time since their daughter was born. Leif carefully maneuvered their daughter into one of his thick arms.
“Come here,” he said, extending his free hand to her.
Unable to deny him, Brielle joined him on the bed, relaxing into his hold. His palm skated behind her head, threading his fingers through her curls. A low, needy sound rumbled in his throat as he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss that left her wet between her legs.
“I love you,” he groaned, his thumb stroking the nape of her neck.
“I love you, Úlfr,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Wear this.”
A necklace that mirrored the one Herja destroyed glittered in his outstretched palm. The glass twinkled, accented by shards of amber, but in the center sat a beautiful viridian stone. The jewel was smooth beneath her fingertips. Brielle sighed, lacing it around her throat.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, cradling the center stone.
“Like you, my kona,” he beamed.
Leif paused, inhaling a deep breath.
“Hjartað mitt,” he started, his voice dropping an octave. “We are welcoming the ships but also making a statement with our family.”
“Úlfr?”
“Put on your finest cloak. Einar is on one of those ships,” he said, continuing to rock their fussing baby.
Acid burned the back of her throat, and Brielle forced down a rough swallow, clearing the vile taste from her mouth. She blinked furiously, sharing a brief, knowing look with Leif before rising from the bed with a chaste kiss to his lips and one to their daughter’s forehead.
Regardless of what she had urged Leif to do. The decision was his alone; no matter what his choice, she would support him. Publicly, at least. Privately, he would have to deal with her ire if he chose to spill blood when there was another solution.
From the far side of the room, Brielle grabbed her ornate cloak, the ceremonial one she rarely wore.
