Chapter 33 #3
Gaelfr shuddered and growled, and snapped his hand back to grip at Kalfr’s arse, dragging him closer.
To which Kalfr laughed again, soft but unmistakable, and despite all the rest, it thrilled hot and sweet up Raye’s spine.
This was the Kalfr she knew, the one she remembered, and he still wanted this, with them. With her.
And clearly Gaelfr wanted it too, sputtering out harder into Raye’s mouth, so she renewed her attentions upon him, sliding and sucking, burying him again and again into her throat.
Doing it in time with Kalfr now, swallowing Gaelfr deeper with every firm thrust from Kalfr behind, again as if they were working together, in easy familiar harmony.
Driving Gaelfr tighter and wilder with every breath, until at some point his trembling hands clutched deep into Raye’s hair, his leg shoving up hard between hers.
Grinding just where she craved it, yes, and she rewarded him by sucking him deeper, frantically swirling her tongue over his slick head and sputtering slit. Needing more, more, please, now —
Gaelfr howled as he broke, his body quaking in between them, his cock spewing out hard into Raye’s sucking mouth.
The sudden molten sweetness finally hurled her off the edge, too, thudding her all over with fierce, blistering pleasure.
And behind Gaelfr, Kalfr was groaning, his hips stuttering, his body arching, his teeth clamping down deep into Gaelfr’s throat.
Drinking him, just like Raye was doing, and again it shouldn’t have felt so right, so familiar, so much like… peace.
Raye clung to that feeling for as long as she could, swallowing down every last drop from Gaelfr’s shuddering, softening cock.
Until he hissed and nudged her head away, plunging a sudden strange hurt through her chest — but then, oh, he drew her up on the bed instead, and folded her into his big warm arms.
Raye’s breath choked with something too close to a sob, and she buried her face back against him, drawing in deep breaths against his rich-scented chest. And in return, Gaelfr’s arms drew her closer, his touch almost painfully gentle — and that was his mouth, kissing soft and sweet against her hair, shivering her all over.
“Thank you, saeta,” came his voice, just as soft as his touch. “And” — he twisted on the bed — “thank you, ástin mín. I… I did not deserve this, from you.”
But Kalfr sighed, and when Raye blinked to look, he was carefully kissing at Gaelfr’s neck, at where the skin still showed the fresh red marks from his teeth. “Ach, do not speak thus, Gael,” he murmured, his lashes low. “You deserve only care, and honour, and peace.”
Gaelfr shivered against Raye, and then he shifted them both sideways, so he could lie on his back, and slip his other arm around Kalfr’s shoulder.
“You are again too kind, ástin mín,” he said, his voice cracking.
“But I will yet — fail you. I will yet ignore your wishes, and push you and dishonour you, for I —”
Kalfr raised his eyes, held them on Gaelfr’s face, while Gaelfr took a breath, let it out.
“I cannot allow you to be harmed,” he continued.
“I cannot. Not again. Not after I have already failed you thus. I only found the strength to stay away from you for so long because I thought — I thought you were safe. I thought you were at peace, together with your mate and son, beneath the goddess’ eye.
And to find you thus, alone and wounded and in danger, when I could have helped you —”
Kalfr’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak, and Gaelfr hauled in another shaky breath.
“I am sorry, ástin mín, but I cannot bear it,” he choked.
“I cannot. I must seek to help you, and keep you safe. I must. And if they will not do more at the mountain, then” — his hand spasmed against Raye’s back — “I will hunt this foul woman, alone. I will find a way to defeat her for what she has done to you. I will seek to avoid sparking any further war in this, if that is your wish — but there is yet naught that will sway me from this vengeance. Not even you.”
Gaelfr’s voice was hard, determined, but surely that was another whisper of fear, glimmering in his eyes. Fear that Kalfr would refuse him, reject him. Fear that he would find himself carrying out his vengeance alone.
But Kalfr let out a slow breath, and his eyes on Gaelfr looked resigned, even fond. “I ken I should not be surprised by this,” he murmured. “What was your great plan at the mountain, then? What were you plotting, all this eve?”
Gaelfr blinked at him, once, and a sudden, hopeful warmth shone in his eyes.
“Ach, well,” he said, gruff, followed by a kiss to Kalfr’s hair.
“They have named you the voreur of this byrgi, have they not? Its Guardian? And as such, it is your right, and your place, to keep a band of strong Bautul warriors by your side. The clan ought to know this. They owe you this.”
Kalfr grimaced and shook his head, perhaps about to say the clan had already refused to give him these warriors — or more likely, that he’d refused to take them.
But Gaelfr shook his head, too, his telltale stubbornness hardening his face.
“No matter what came to pass upon this before,” he said, “we shall demand it now. We shall muster a Bautul band of your choosing, of warriors we trust to follow and uphold you. We shall fortify and guard this byrgi, and use it to help our kin, as was your good intent, when you first built this. And when we are attacked by this foul woman and her men” — his voice deepened — “we will defend our home, and you, with all our strength. Together.”
Kalfr’s breath heaved out, his eyes sliding closed. “You will be sending this band to their deaths, Gael,” he replied, his voice thin. “Or else, you will start another war. I told you, there is no escaping this. There is no escaping her.”
But Gaelfr scoffed, and gave Kalfr’s shoulder a firm shake.
“You cannot know this for certain,” he countered.
“Mayhap she will not bring a full army, or a strong one. Mayhap she will lose interest and retreat. Mayhap she will not be able to breach the byrgi. Or mayhap once she sees the strength and skill of your war-band, she will relent and accept the mountain’s terms. There is much we can do beyond surrender, and beyond more war and death. ”
Kalfr didn’t immediately reply, and Gaelfr took a deep breath.
“You have always been one of the cleverest orcs amongst us, ástin mín,” he said.
“But you have not yet had a full band of warriors at your command to uphold you and help you, and carry out your will. And if you wish to heed these old ways of the Bautul, you cannot deny that we are always strongest when we are together. Always.”
His voice had gotten faster, more fervent, his eyes strangely alight.
Because — the understanding again flared through Raye’s thoughts — Gaelfr needed this.
He needed to be the kind of Bautul he’d failed to be.
He needed to do whatever he could to find his own power, to make his own amends.
And maybe… maybe he needed to draw upon all that time he’d spent alone in the south, too.
To find at least one valuable lesson in the midst of his loneliness and grief.
We are always strongest when we are together.
And surely Kalfr understood all that too, his eyes catching Raye’s, and flicking away again. While his chest expanded and hollowed against Gaelfr, his mouth tight.
“And what of Raye and Svein?” Kalfr finally asked. “How will we be sure to keep them safe, amidst all this? If they even wish to stay?”
The question quivered up Raye’s back, and she hesitated, perhaps expecting Gaelfr to reply, but Gaelfr was looking at her, his brows raised. Asking her the question. Wanting to hear her answer.
“I would… want to stay,” Raye said, slow but surprisingly certain. “At least, until all this is dealt with. It’s not any safer at my house, is it? And as for Svein…”
Kalfr’s eyes slid back to hers, and Raye attempted a smile, though it felt strained on her mouth.
“Svein wouldn’t want to leave here, either,” she continued.
“He would be devastated if anything happened to you. To either of you. And I don’t know if you’ve considered this, Kalfr, but” — her attempt at a smile utterly failed this time — “if you truly sacrifice yourself to your enemies, you might just be putting off that war for a few years. Until Svein is old enough to rouse a band himself, and run off and seek vengeance for your death.”
Kalfr’s gaze stilled on hers, as if no, he hadn’t considered that whatsoever, and Raye’s smile felt both genuine and sad this time. “Svein is a lot like you, you know,” she said thickly. “Like both of you. He’s so generous. So brave. And he’ll do anything for the people he loves.”
A weighty silence followed her words, and she took another breath, reached for another truth that had been whispering at the back of her thoughts.
“Also, Kalfr,” she continued, “I know you said you would want Gaelfr to run away across the sea with me and Svein, if you’re…
gone. But if living there will be anything like what Gaelfr just told us he went through in the south — if Svein would need to spend his whole life hiding, suffering, isolated from his people — I don’t want that for him.
He’s already done that, all this time, and I can’t bear to put him through it again. I can’t. He deserves better.”
There was more silence between them, during which Kalfr and Gaelfr exchanged a long, speaking glance.
As if they were considering Raye’s point, as if this was something they hadn’t thought about, either.
Of course they wouldn’t want Svein to live a life like that.
Of course they wouldn’t want him to suffer like Gaelfr had.
“She speaks truth, ástin mín,” Gaelfr said, quiet.
“We ought not to bind our son to this. But” — his hand squeezed Kalfr’s arm — “we can yet take great care with them. We can safeguard them in any way we can, and plan for how best to care for them, if aught befalls us. We can again find a way, together. Ach?”
And again, Kalfr was… considering it. He was, he was, and Raye held her breath, waiting. Gaelfr waited beneath her, too, his heartbeat thudding fast and hard beneath her hand.
“You are sure of this, Raye,” Kalfr finally said, heavy and tired. “You are sure you wish to place yourself in such danger, and take such risks for me. And you are sure” — his eyes sharpened on hers — “you wish to ally yourself with orcs, and come to Orc Mountain. With Svein.”
He was truly asking, wanting to hear her answer, and Raye fought to ignore the involuntary leap in her chest, and forced herself to fully consider the question.
Did she want to take Svein to Orc Mountain?
Could she handle taking such a shocking risk, doing something she’d dreaded and feared for years?
Something that even a few days ago, she would have greeted with fury and alarm?
But now, as unthinkable as it was, the thought of losing Kalfr was worse. The thought of Svein’s grief and devastation and loneliness, and perhaps Gaelfr’s, too. The thought of Kalfr suffering. The thought of knowing, for certain, that he would never, ever come back.
No. Raye wanted to face it, and fight it, together, just like Gaelfr had said. She wanted to keep her vow, and make amends. Even if that meant going to Orc Mountain.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ll go.”