Page 13 of Heart of the Wolf
The man turned, a muscle in his jaw jumping when he saw Brielle and Astrid. Silver flecks shone in his gray eyes like snow speckled by morning light. His glacial gaze melted slightly in the swirling flames of the fire.
Brielle fought the urge to conceal herself from the intense look piercing her like the tip of a dagger. That icy stare was all too familiar and echoed in her mind.
He was the man who had carried her from the woods.
Her Dane.
The man who haunted her dreams.
Konungr.
Úlfr.
Leif.
Chapter four
Brielle
Astrid and Leif exchanged words in such a flurry that Brielle couldn’t make out a single one of them. Their conversation ended when he kissed Astrid on the cheek. Then, the kind woman bid Brielle goodbye and left her alone with the hulking beast of a man.
With a breath, his shoulders relaxed under his leathers and furs. A thick beard accentuated his angular jaw, and he raked a hand through it, eyes roaming over Brielle. He was slow in his assessment, his gaze pausing on the constellation of freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose. Satisfied with what he found there, he moved lower, sweeping over her breasts and waist, lingering on her hips.Unsure of what was expected, she shuffled from side to side, looking away.
Astrid said she was important. The longer the silence between them stretched on, the faster her heart thrummed. It wasn’t with fear, but something else she couldn’t place. Each thump in her chest pounded harder than the last. She sucked in stuttered breaths, only making her uneasiness worse.
Shadows shifted in her vision, blocking out the flickering flames of the fire. A lump caught in her throat as she tried to clear it, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his voice hoarse from the brisk air. “Steady your wild heart. Come.” He extended a hand to her. “You must be hungry.”
Hungry? She’d eaten more food earlier than she’d tasted an entire week previously. She would be fine for days if the situation required it. Her eyes drifted to the hanging deer and the string of rabbits, her mouth watering as she licked her lips. Food didn’t appear to be in short supply. Perhaps she could eat whenever she desired.
The thought was almost too promising to dwell on.
Without overthinking it, Brielle rested her much smaller hand in his. They were rough with calluses, the skin scratching against her own. The hammering in her chest eased when the warmth of his fingers closed around hers, leading her inside. They moved through a large ceremonialhall that she hadn’t seen earlier. Axes and swords adorned the walls, flanked by vibrant tapestries that told tales of Odin and other gods Brielle did not recognize.
A cool sting itched in her palm as his hand left hers. Something splintered inside her at the loss, urging her to reclaim it. Before she could voice her absurd thoughts, his hand fell to the small of her back, guiding her into the room where she had awoken.
Some small sound of disappointment hummed in her throat. Leif smirked, his eyes twinkling like starlight glinting off a frozen pond.
He dropped to a knee by the hearth, veins flexing in his hands. Plucking logs from the tidy stack, he tossed them into the fire, blowing hot air into the embers. The flames roared, licking the stone before settling down once more.
A shiver tingled like cold water dripping over her body, making her shift. As if sensing her movements, Leif’s gaze snapped to her. The drawn lines around his mouth showed concern.
“Are you cold, hjartað mitt?”
In two long strides, he towered above her, so much taller than she remembered. Granted, they had never been this close to each other before. She misjudged just how tall the man was.
Scars peeked out from his tunic, disappearing beneath the lush material, hiding who knew what else.
Brielle blinked, almost forgetting he had asked her a question. Back home, her father chastised her for being too loud and for talking too much.
But now, in his presence, she was at a rare loss for words.
Instead, her hand drifted to his face, drawn there by some invisible tether. Her fingers traced the line of the faded, raised scar by his eye without touching it. It had been fresh ten years ago, and now he had grown around the wound.
Gently, he grasped her wrist. She squeaked, trying to yank it away but failing. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Where his hand had been rough, his lips were smooth, whispering like crushed velvet against her skin.
Heat bloomed in her chest, spiderwebbing out until her entire body was ablaze with the sensation of his surprisingly tender lips touching her.
