Chapter 7 #3
He knelt over her, savoring her flavor as he sampled her throat, nipples, and smooth belly. With trembling fingers, he parted the soft blonde curls between her long, lithe legs. And when he lapped the sensitive pink folds, her sweet nectar sang to his Sea Wolf soul.
Rising up on his knees, he licked two fingers and slid them gently inside her.
As her moans of pleasure ignited his aching loins, Sigurd returned his mouth to her tender flesh.
Penetrating her with the rhythmic rocking of his fingers, he nuzzled her small nub with persistent lips and tongue.
The tension rose in her taut belly and clenched thighs until she quivered, convulsing in pleasure beneath his tongue, clamping his fingers in rhythmic release.
With parted lips and flushed cheeks, she watched him lick his fingers and growl with ravenous hunger.
Her tangy taste inflamed his throbbing body.
Nudging her thighs apart with impatient knees, he slid shaking hands beneath her bottom and tilted her hips up to receive him.
Though his hardened body roared like a raging wolf, he positioned himself at her opening, easing in gently at the resistance of her firm flesh.
Brynhildr whimpered, “I want you.” She wrapped her long legs around his waist, gripped his hips with insistent hands, and pulled him deep inside.
Intense pleasure flooded him when he penetrated her warm depths.
He plunged in deep, pumping like rhythmic waves pulsing against the cliffs.
The delicious surge rose quickly, her slick grip clenching him tightly from within as she arched her body to meet his every thrust. He arrowed into her and erupted, the fountain bursting forth in violent, pulsing jets.
He couldn’t breathe, move, or think.
She cried out, her body clamping around his, the rhythmic contractions of her climax extracting every last drop as Sigurd poured his essence into Brynhildr, sowing his soul with his seed.
“Mmm,” she hummed, tracing her fingernails over his quavering back.
“I never knew that making love would transport me to the stars.” She brushed his braided hair away from his shoulder and kissed the side of his neck.
With the tip of her tongue, she traced the tattooed Tiwaz rune.
“I love the taste of your skin. It sings to my soul.”
He smiled down at her, nestled between his arms. “And I love the tang of your nectar. Sweet as golden mead, yet salty like the sea. A divine gift from the gods.” When he lowered himself to her side, pulling her onto his chest, a sudden searing heat flared his flesh, just above his heart.
He gazed down and gasped. An ouroboros ring—an endless circle of a fierce dragon swallowing its tail—burned upon his skin, glowing with golden otherworldly light.
“Brynhildr,” he breathed, placing her hand upon the radiant ring.
She stared in stunned silence, then abruptly sat up,
An identical mark glowed above her left breast. “I bear it as well.”
She turned to face him, her blue green eyes glistening like the starlit fjord. “This is a fjórún,” she whispered with wonder, her fingertip tracing the glowing mark on his chest. Beneath her touch, it pulsed with the rhythm of his pounding heart. “A soulbinding rune… seared into flesh by seier.”
She caught his hand and lifted it to her trembling lips, pressing a fervent kiss upon his scarred fingers. “‘When the falcon cries and the wolf howls… the dragon shall leave its mark.’ Those were Yrsa’s words when she cast the runes tonight.”
Guiding his hand, Brynhildr placed his fingers upon the golden ring above her heart. Warmth answered his touch, alive beneath her skin.
“When you and I made love, and our bodies merged as one…” Awe laced her hushed voice as awakening dawned in her emerald eyes. “So did our souls. We are now bound by seier… and marked by the dragon.”
Her fingertip traced the endless circle as it pulsed and glowed above his heart.
“The ouroboros,” she murmured. “The sigil of eternal return.” She smiled softly and leaned down to kiss the radiant mark.
“No wonder seier sizzled through me each time our eyes met. The Norns have interwoven the threads of our fates. Our destines are forever entwined.”
Sigurd inhaled her scent, breathing her into his bones.
“Then let the Norns bear witness,” he said softly. “Whatever paths they set before us, my heart knows its way back to you.”
With a reverent thumb, he brushed the glowing golden ring above her left breast. The ouroboros mark on his own chest burned with the same pulsing rhythm.
“I shall triumph as champion of the Sólhjarta Tournament.” He lifted her hand to his bearded lips. “To prove myself worthy of you.” He kissed her pale fingers, eyes fiercely locked upon hers. “And accept whatever outcome the Norns have planned.”
Beneath the balcony where moonlight shimmered on the starlit fjord, laughter and music floated in on the salty breeze, mingling with the scent of wild roses from the thorny vines.
Sigurd smiled sadly, reluctant to leave her warm embrace.
“Come,” he murmured, rising from the fur-covered bed.
“Let us return before they wonder where the wolf and the falcon have flown.”
She stood before him, tracing the fjórún and the dark blond hair across his chest. In the depths of her blue green eyes, he glimpsed the eternal return of his Sea Wolf soul.
Forever bound with hers.
“From this night forward, you are bound to me, and I to you.” Brynhildr kissed the glowing ouroboros which burned above his thundering heart. “We are marked by the dragon, our fates forever entwined.”
Rising onto her toes, she kissed his bristled lips. “Soulbound in starlight and seier.”
Sigurd crushed her in his arms, the roar of the sea surging through him as he sealed the vow with his mouth. “I swear by all the gods,” he breathed into her parted lips, “that my life is yours, and yours is mine—now, and forevermore.”
They dressed in solemn silence.
He laced the back of her bodice.
She fastened his Blárúlfr cloak with the snarling wolf head brooch. While he strapped úlfblóer at his waist, she secured the silver circlet upon her braided blonde head.
And taking his calloused hand in hers, led him down the vine-covered stairs.