Chapter 35 #2
Moonlight shone into the cave through the small fissure in the roof where swirls of sweet smoke floated into the starry night sky.
Haldor reached for the silver chalice resting on the smooth stone beside the fire.
Golden and silvery light danced across the intricate runes and glimmering gems. Holding úlvhild’s gaze, he raised the goblet high.
“To Freyja,” he murmured, his deep voice mellow as mead. “The goddess who bound our souls and sealed our vows.” He brought the chalice to úlvhild’s lips for her to take the first sip.
Loving eyes fixed upon his, she drank in tribute to the goddess. Then, taking the goblet from his warm hands, she raised it in turn. “To Freyja, who healed us both. And blessed my womb with Freyja’s Bloom.”
She touched the silver cup to his lips, and he drank.
Taking the goblet from her, he turned solemnly toward the hearth fire. With both hands cradling the ornate silver chalice, he poured the remaining mead into the flames. “For Freyja,” he whispered, “who watches through the amber eyes of our wedding rings. And seals our love with seier.”
The fire hissed and flared gold, releasing the sweet scent of honey and the spice of myrrh into the Dragon’s Leap cave
Haldor took úlvhild in his arms, kissed her lips, and swirled her slowly on the soft furs. “We have no lyres or lutes, but we must dance around the bonfire to celebrate our wedding.”
She rested her head over his devoted heart, tears flowing down her smiling cheeks,
Sigurd would receive word by the winter solstice.
Svanhild would wed Tryggvi, preserving the vital alliance between Sweyn Forkbeard, Jarl Rikard, and the Jarl of Orkneyjar.
úlvhild had saved Haldor in the battle of ísland,
And now, they were married. She carried his daughter. And soon, she would bear him two sons.
Heart overflowing like her amber eyes, she succumbed to joy in Haldor’s loving arms.
They swayed near the fire, the scent of juniper and myrrh swirling with the fragrant smoke. Haldor’s warm lips sought her neck, his husky whisper hot in her ear. “Come to bed, wife. I want to worship my lynx goddess.”
Dark eyes aflame, he led her to their soft pile of furs.
Haldor unfastened her amber necklace and set it gently upon the stone shelf. Slowly, seductively, he unraveled the two slender braids in her long black hair, laying the strips of golden wool next to the carved image of Freyja.
úlvhild caressed his scarred, bearded cheek, her eyes welling as she held his gaze where lust, longing, and love smoldered, fierce as the fire in the hearth.
She helped him remove his leather armor, which he carefully laid on a blanket near their bed.
He stood proudly before her—his magnificent warrior body dusted with dark hair, rippled with strength, marred by brutal scars.
The tattooed feathers, proof of Freyja’s magical gift of flight, shimmered like living wings, the seierfjáer mark which bound their souls glowing golden with violet fire above his fierce falcon heart.
Her fingertips traced the glimmering feathers and sable curls across his broad chest. With loving lips and warm tongue, she tasted his tempting flesh, savoring the sizzle of seier in the spiral of the feather-shaped rune.
He lifted her golden gown up over her head, then removed the soft linen shift underneath. Folding both, he placed them on the blanket beside his leather armor. His ravenous gaze rove over her bare flesh like a peregrine sensing its prey.
Falcon wings unfurling in flight, he wrapped her in his arms, swooped down for her lips, and fiercely claimed her as his.
He parted her lips and drove in his tongue, penetrating and probing. With a deep moan, he gripped her hips and pulled them against his hardened body, her knees weakening with want. He licked her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, humming as his warm mouth suckled each puckered nipple.
When he lowered her to soft the furs and spread her legs wide, she quivered as he hovered over her, feasting with ravenous eyes. “I long for your taste …” his voice was guttural and gruff, the throbbing between her thighs making her whimper.
His soft, eager lips sampled her tender flesh, lapping and sucking as if devouring a delicious treat. His tongue probed her depths and flicked over her sensitive nub, driving her wild with desire. “Please, Haldor…I want you inside me.”
Impatient knees between her thighs, he lifted her hips and impaled her with a guttural groan.
She clamped long legs around his rocking hips. Dug her fingers into the tense muscles of his taut back. Pulled him in deeper, arching her body to meet his rhythmic thrusts.
When the cresting wave finally crashed, inundating her in waves of unbearable pleasure, Haldor arrowed into her, convulsed in her locked limbs, and filled her with his glorious seed.
After a few moments to savor the delicious bliss, he laid down at her side and cradled her over his thumping heart.
As úlvhild nuzzled the dark hair on his chest, Haldor kissed the top of her head and stroked her long black locks.
“This is the first time I made love to you as my wife.” Tenderness laced his mellow tone.
He smiled down at her, lovelight gleaming in his dark falcon eyes. “And it was the very best of all.”
She rose up to kiss his irresistible lips. “Indeed it was. I love you, my husband. And I always will.”
Heart full of love, womb full of life, úlvhild nestled into Haldor’s loving embrace. And slept for the first time as his wife.