Chapter 25 #2
I want to say something. More. Less. Please. Yes. No. I can’t figure out the right response, because the sensations are torture of the sweetest kind—oscillating between euphoric pain and agonizing desire.
Pressing my hips up, I try to gain more friction—more movement. But Ulf easily has me pinned in place. All I can do is kick my legs in jerky movements and buck my chest beneath him.
Breaking the kiss, he slips his hand over my lips before I can say anything, sealing my mouth shut. “No control, Elina.” His chilly eyes burn with a thousand fires as he spears his control into me. “You’re at my mercy. Only I can protect you.”
His nose twitches with feral intent, and fear coalesces in my stomach, but it does nothing to hinder the swirling heat. If anything, it melds straight into it and feeds the desire.
“I can do whatever I want with you. No one will hear you—only the birds and the trees. No one will stop me. You’re a defenseless deer, caught in my claws.”
He draws his cock back—just a smidgen—and sinks back in. It’s a small motion, but enough to drive me even wilder. I writhe and groan, scared yet craving more of his dark possession.
Baring his teeth, he leans down, and I cry out into his hand when he digs his teeth into my shoulder.
Pain erupting in my flesh, I flail my hands wildly and kick my heels into the cot.
But when he starts moving inside me, slow but long strokes against my contracting walls, the pain transforms. It surges through my blood, sending deep throbs to my core and swooshing into every little part of my skin.
I’m so close. My moans become longer and louder, my breaths shorter as I use up all my oxygen crying out into his hand. I can’t control it. I can’t control anything. Just a little more and I’ll explode.
I welcome the turbulent storm building inside me, whirring faster and faster. But just as my legs start to tense and my toes start to curl, it all stops. With one quick motion, Ulf pulls out and releases my throat from the vise of his teeth.
Shocked, I stare at him, blinking back and forth between his eyes while gasping for air, searching for an explanation.
He grants it to me with a startling answer that feeds the fear as well as the pulsing anticipation. “We have a ritual to finish.”
“What do you mean?” I squeal when he releases my mouth and reaches for something on the other cot.
When I see what it is, I start shaking my head.
Fixing his eyes on mine, Ulf holds a knife between us. I flicker my gaze between the sharp blade and his severe stare, my breath hitching with each staggered attempt to fill my lungs.
A whole minute passes in the deadly intensity of the moment before Ulf says, “You must shed your blood on the stone.”
“What?” I gasp, a crazed sort of distress creeping around the edges of my brain.
“To join the clan, you must shed your blood on the old stone on the summit.”
I jerk against his grip on my hands, the distress threatening to drown out the desire. “No, stop. Just… pause. It’s too much.”
Ulf withdraws the knife from my view, and the feral intensity draws back, leaving a stark earnestness.
“Do you trust me, Elina?” When I don’t respond immediately, he continues, “I’ve been holding the strings to your desire for six months.
I’m the one who decided each new step. You thought Asbjorn was the one who knew you better than you knew yourself, but the truth is, I was the one who knew exactly when you were ready for the cane, anal play, and when to pull the plug.
I know all your reactions—how you scream with the full force of your lungs when the pain makes you come alive, and I know how those same cries thin when you’ve had enough.
I know how your hips dance when you crave more, and I know how your legs shiver when your body tries to tell you that you actually can’t take any more.
And I’ve seen fear mingle with desire in your eyes when you saw this knife for the first time.
Tell me you don’t want to taste it on your skin—tell me that you don’t want to bear my mark. ”
I go quiet while he speaks, my breath calming, my pulse slowing. Because even though his words are fuel to my fear, they also resonate in an instinctive place deep inside me.
“Do you trust me?” he asks again.
I gulp, but nod, nonetheless. Part of me rages at my response.
But that’s the part that reminds me how few words I’ve exchanged with this man and how deeply at his mercy I am up here on the mountain.
Another part reminds me that he’s been there all along, observing me and calling the shots from the sidelines.
I never realized it before, but suddenly it’s bright and clear.
He was the driving force behind everything that happened.
I remember the pivotal realization that struck when I sank into the dirt at his feet last night: I was always supposed to be his.
But my fearful brain still rebels against the answer I want to give, so I ask another question to seek confirmation. “When did you know?”
The intensity of his expression softens somewhat, lending reassurance to my nervous brain. “Know what?”
“That you wanted me.”
A smile glimmers in his eyes. “From the very first moment I laid eyes upon you.”
“How?”
“How?” he parrots and glances off to the side while considering.
When he looks at me again, the darkness is gone, serious sincerity remaining.
“There’s no rational explanation—just like there isn’t with most things that truly matter.
Why does the sun shine, why is this mountain here, why are we part of this earth?
Why is this invisible bond between us so strong?
I can’t explain it. All I know is the way you surrendered to me.
You didn’t shy away when I held your gaze even though you tried—you couldn’t.
You were drawn to me, the same way I was drawn to you.
By an invisible bond that beckoned you to succumb and demanded that I take control. ”
My breaths shudder, emotion welling up. Because his every word resonates deep in my bones.
I can’t explain it either. All I know is that I belong here with this strong, terrifying, magnificent man who I don’t know through words and reason, but through quiet glances, fleeting touches, and wordless interactions.
That’s why I finally reply, “Yes, I do trust you.”
“I know,” Ulf says.
“Then why…”
“Because I needed you to know too.”
I draw a long, shuddery breath. A well of emotion rolls up through me, tightening my throat and shaking in my breaths. Tears pool in my eyes, and one spills over. I don’t know why. I think it’s the sheer intensity of the moment.
Stark vulnerability softens my voice when I say, “Can I please have a hug?” I need one.
I need Ulf to stabilize the flood of emotion he has awakened—the trust that trumps the fear, the desire that overcomes the pain, and the powerful beating of my heart that tells me I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
Ulf slowly releases my hands and sets the knife down on the cot, then slips his hands under me and lifts me up to press me tight against his body.
He arranges me in his lap like a small child, and I feel safer than I ever have anywhere as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder, inhaling his calming scent.
“Good girl,” he soothes, rocking me slowly, pressing tiny kisses to my head.
“I’ve got you, my sweet little deer.” He dips his head to nuzzle his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply to soak up my scent, the same way I do with him.
“All mine. Mine to scare. Mine to control. Mine to give and deny pleasure.” He squeezes me tight, and I sense a weight of importance as he breathes deeply and says, “Mine to protect.”
He keeps me there for a long minute, curled up in his arms, wrapped in the sincerity of that last word. Then he lifts his head and holds two fingers under my chin. “Are you ready for the last part?”
I push air through rounded lips and release my answer on the last gust of air. “Yes.”
A smile curves his lips and deepens the faint lines around his mouth, making him look utterly beautiful.
The darkness behind his eyes remains, though, always there, revealing a heavy depth behind his controlled facade—a severity I want to kiss and caress and share with him in the hopes that I can shoulder some of the weight for him.
I hope he’ll open up to me the same way he’s opening me up to him.
Gripped by the urge to get closer to him—needing something in return as I bare my soul and all my vulnerabilities—I say, “Will you tell me something about yourself that I don’t know—something no one else knows?”
A grave expression settles over his face. I think he’s about to say no, but then he nods. I wait breathlessly as he stares into the distance, the air growing fraught with something dark and somber.
He doesn’t look at me when he finally says, “I once killed a man with my bare hands—a good friend.” His eyes close, the weight of the memory settling on his brow.
“Half his body was covered in third-degree burns. He probably could have lived, but he begged me not to let him go through that agony.” He goes quiet for a moment.
“I still see his face every night when I close my eyes.”
His breaths become heavy, and I press my hand to his rising and falling chest, needing to provide some sort of comfort but having no idea how. I almost expect him to tense up and shut off, but instead, he relaxes into my touch, dropping his head slightly with a surprising hint of vulnerability.
Feeling bold, I lift my hand to his face and press it to his cheek. Once again, he surprises me by leaning in instead of pulling away. His eyes remain closed, though. The severity of the memory seems to roll through him, but I sense him finding comfort in my touch, and it warms my heart.
When he opens his eyes and aims the sharp blue straight at me, there’s a hardness as if he’s prepared to shut off. “Do you still trust me?” he asks with thick doubt.
“Yes,” I say without pause. Because I do.
All that shame and guilt and the harrowing loneliness that seems to accompany his memory tell me more than any words or actions could.
This man is fiercely protective. He’ll go to extreme lengths to protect the people close to him. And now I’m under his protection.
Wonder infiltrates the somber darkness in his eyes. “I can’t believe I finally have you. You’re everything I hoped you’d be and so much more.” He presses a long kiss to my lips, then adjusts his grip on me, leans forward to grab the knife, and gets up with me in his arms. “Let’s finish the ritual.”