Page 19 of Heart of the Wolf
“Will you eat more if I do?”
A smile pierced her cracked lips with a slight laugh as she dipped her chin—a Konungr who knew how to negotiate. Brielle wasn’t unhealthily thin and had eaten more than enough that morning, but fainting at his feet had apparently driven his need to keep her fed.
“Yes. I agree to your terms,” she snickered.
A low sound echoed deep in his throat, making her squeak. Leif slipped an arm under her legs and easily lifted her, cradling her petite frame against his bare chest. He deposited her on top of the thick furs of his bed. The firelight glinted in his eyes as he bent down until their gazes met.
“Wait here.”
The command rumbled through her like a summer’s storm.
Brielle scooted back on the fluffy mattress of feathers until her back collided with the wooden wall. Leif moved to the hearth, feeding the flames before disappearing into a darkened room. The pillows were as soft as the bed, and she moaned a little sigh at the feeling of them pressed against her back. Thick blankets and furs lined the bed. Brielle carded her fingers in an exploratory trail through the bear skins.
No one had ever treated her to something so luxurious, such finery.
A king would have been waited on and tended to; at least, an English king would have. However, that didn’t appear to be Leif. He hunted his own food. He tended his own fire.
She assumed he also slayed and skinned the furs that covered his bed. If he had servants, she hadn’t seen them. Amidst all that, he braided her hair, taking care of her.Shadows shifted in the firelight when he returned with a plate overflowing with fruits and nuts.
Woolen breeches clung snugly to his toned thighs, the ties of the fabric hanging loose around his waist, teasing at the trail of blonde hair disappearing beneath the fabric.
He placed the plate on a table, kneeling on the edge and crawling beside her. She had expected the conversation to happen on the benches by the hearth, not in his bed. Her pulse thumped in her throat, almost painfully, with nervous anticipation.
Strong arms pulled her back until she was nestled between his outstretched legs. His palm rubbed a trail over her belly while his other hand swept her braids to the side. His cheek now pressed firmly against her own. A deep laugh vibrated through her.
To some, she assumed it was a terrifying sound. One that heralded destruction. However, when it was just them, it took on an entirely different tone, almost playful.
“You have nothing to fear in my arms, Brielle.” He plucked a slice of apple from the tray and brought it to her lips. “What do you wish to know? Ask, and I shall tell you.”
Tentatively, Brielle parted her lips and closed her mouth around the tart sweetness of the fruit. Her heart skittered against her ribs when her tongue brushed along his fingers.
Fruit was a rare treat at home. She often passed on it, allowing others to savor it instead. Another small moan shook her, one she didn’t try to hide as the juices slid down her throat.
He stiffened at the sound, something hard poking her back.
“What does hjartað mitt mean? Why do you keep calling me that?”
His hand continued its slow exploration of her stomach as the breath of his answer washed over her throat.
“It means my heart,” he said in a possessive timbre that made her squirm.
He brushed his nose on the hinge of her jaw, the flicker of a smile tickling her face as he did. Abruptly, Leif gripped her hips, turning her until she was facing him.
Something fiery swam in his eyes, the flecks of silver shifting into a mercurial glint.
“Why?” he asked through clenched teeth. “We are known. Do you not feel it, hjartað mitt?” She blushed under his intense stare. “This is yours.”
Leif took her hand in his and pressed her palm over his heart, holding it there as the weight of each beat solidified something she had always known.
How could she not feel it? It was only a moment before her racing heart eased, finding a rhythm to match his. Slender fingers threaded through his thicker ones as shebrought his free hand up her chest, resting his palm over her beating heart. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her gesture, a crack splintering through his carefully controlled features.
“As much as this is yours,” she said, a hesitant smile twitching at the curves of her mouth.
Both hands fell as Leif palmed the back of her head, brushing his lips against hers in slow, confident movements.
The room dissolved, fading into a misty haze until all she saw and felt was Leif.
Skilled lips feathered along hers, softer than she imagined. Her hands sought him out, her nails carding through his long hair, seeking purchase. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips as he groaned into her panting mouth at her touch, moving her closer until their bodies were flush.
