Chapter 46
Raye staggered unseeing through the byrgi’s dark tunnels, her lamp clutched in her numb hand.
Another son. You may soon bear him another son.
And the more she made herself consider it, the more she could admit that yes, the possibility of another child had whispered, somewhere in the back of her mind.
She’d been dimly, quietly aware of it, but she’d perhaps purposefully kept it there, shoved deep into the darkness with all the rest of her doubts and fears.
Because that possibility raised too many other crucial issues, didn’t it?
Too many other questions she couldn’t bear to face.
Was she willing to have another child? Was she willing to have another child with Kalfr, when he might still hate her?
Would she truly make a pregnancy — another entire living being — part of her penance, her vow?
Or… had she already promised it, already given it, back at the start of all this? I’ll do whatever it takes. I swear to you.
She lurched faster down the corridor, toward where she could hear the distant sounds of voices and ringing pickaxes, while the miserable awareness churned ever higher.
Because — did that mean Kalfr wanted it?
He wanted another son, in trade for Raye’s sins?
A son he could raise properly this time?
Or even — Raye’s breath choked — a son she would hand over to him, forever?
She whipped her head back and forth, because she wouldn’t abandon her son, and Kalfr wouldn’t try to take a son away from her, would he?
No. No, he wouldn’t, she could trust him that much now — and she could trust Gaelfr, too.
Whatever other doubts she held about them, they’d both proven they were devoted fathers, hadn’t they?
They both wanted what was best for Svein.
And she could easily believe that they would both welcome and cherish another son, too.
But there was still the attack. The ten days. The threat of Kalfr sacrificing himself for this. And did that mean… Kalfr might be planning to leave this son behind, after his death? For her, or for… for Gaelfr?
Raye’s vision sharply blurred, and she sank against the hard stone wall, gulping down one painful breath after another.
Because… had Gaelfr known all this, too, all this time?
Had he known that Kalfr could have sons?
That Kalfr could have a son with her? Because every time Kalfr had taken Raye like that, Gaelfr had only encouraged it.
He’d wanted it. He’d wanted Raye fucking Kalfr. And he’d also wanted… he’d wanted to…
To feed her. To fatten her. To build her strength. Just like Rurik had said she needed most, in order to bear Kalfr that son. And gods, what had Gaelfr told her, just that morning in bed? This ought to be Kalfr’s place, and Kalfr’s issue. Kalfr’s due.
Raye thrust her lamp down to the floor with a clatter, and buried her face in her hands. Kalfr and Gaelfr had both known this, then. They’d both been planning this. A new son, for Raye’s penance. For her punishment.
“Raye?” cut in a voice, painfully familiar — and when her head snapped up, Kalfr was here.
Here, only an arm’s-length away from her, his chest and trousers still liberally streaked with mud.
His hair was coming out of its usual tight braid, too, escaping in short black curls around his head, and for some stupid incomprehensible reason, Raye desperately wanted to weep at the sight.
“What is amiss?” Kalfr asked, his eyes rapidly searching her face. “You are not ill, are you?”
Raye choked a sound much like a laugh, and shook her head. “No,” she rasped, in a voice not her own. “I’m not ill. I only just went for my examination with Rurik, and I…”
She didn’t finish, shaking her head again, but she could still see that answering flicker, there in Kalfr’s eyes. His sudden, undeniable comprehension of what that would mean. What she and Rurik would have spoken about.
And for a breath, as Kalfr gazed toward her, Raye was certain he would avoid it, or deny it. He would keep pretending, like they both had all this time…
“And it seems,” Raye’s voice continued, still not sounding like hers, “that perhaps you can father children now, after all.”
If she’d borne even a hint of doubt, it was dashed by the hitch in Kalfr’s exhale, the grimace on his mouth. “I… can,” he replied, low. “I… I see now I ought to have made this clearer to you. I thought you also — ach. I am sorry.”
Raye twitched, because damn him, he wasn’t supposed to apologize. He was supposed to say, You owe me. You vowed this to me. I want another son from you, to carry on beyond my death.
But he didn’t. He still didn’t. Instead, he just kept looking at her like that, his nostrils flaring, his mud-streaked bare chest expanding and hollowing with his breaths.
And the longer Raye stared at him, caught in his long lashes, his dark expressive eyes, his tall graceful body, so close — the more something new quivered up through the reeling chaos of her thoughts.
Whatever his motives, even if he hadn’t once spoken of it… Kalfr did still want that. He wanted another son. With her.
Raye had to close her eyes, block the sight of him away — but that only made the awareness shiver higher, stronger. Kalfr wanted this with her. Not with Sybil, not with any other woman. With her. Even after all she’d done, all the ways she’d failed.
It was almost too powerful to bear, and more powerful still when Raye opened her eyes again, and found Kalfr a shade closer than before.
His lashes lower, his chest heaving harder, the mud glistening against his gleaming grey skin.
And all she had to do was lean forward, take a deep breath of his sweet scent, and…
Reach out her shaky hand, and… touch him. Meet him. Trust him.
Kalfr’s body twitched at the touch, at Raye’s traitorous hand, settling against his chest. The mud was gritty and slick, but his skin was warm, and his heartbeat thudded faster beneath her fingers.
Because she was touching him, why was she touching him?
What was she saying, what was she offering, her hand sliding downwards…
“What about Gael?” came Kalfr’s voice, very quiet, but it snapped Raye’s gaze back to his face, and swooped something hot and strange through her belly. Was he asking because he wanted Gaelfr here? Or because he thought Raye would want Gaelfr here? Or because…
“He won’t mind,” Raye whispered back, breathless. “He… he wants us to.”
It sounded impossibly certain, despite the whisper of doubt nagging at the corner of her thoughts. Gaelfr wouldn’t mind her touching Kalfr like this, would he? If she… if they…
Kalfr’s nod was so brief she almost didn’t catch it, but she did catch that flicker in his eyes, that brush of his tongue to his lips.
And the way he held himself perfectly still as her audacious hand kept slipping down his front, spreading the slick mud over his navel, down into his tented trousers…
Her cheeks were burning now, and the warnings were still screaming — but she shoved them away, down into the same corner they’d lived in before. Because all that mattered was this moment, and the truth of her hand, tugging apart Kalfr’s trousers like this, so she could release…
That. His long, beautiful, deep grey cock, already swollen to full hardness, the skin at its crown peeled back, its slit seeping a thick, deadly string of white.
But Raye wasn’t running. Wasn’t refusing. And instead, her hand stroked down that silken shaft, her thumb brushing into that string of dangling white. Saying, she knew what it was now, what it wanted to do…
“Turn around,” came Kalfr’s voice, low and hoarse, clutching in Raye’s groin.
And it was far too easy to nod, to wrench around, to obey.
To face the rough-cut stone of the wall, to feel the burning heat of Kalfr’s hands settling against her hips, sliding up her skirts.
Exposing her for him, right here, right now, cool air pooling against her thighs, against her slick swollen heat.
And then the touch of a muddy boot between her bare calves, guiding them apart, while a warm bare hand pressed gentle but purposeful against her lower back, bending her forward.
Opening her up for him, showing him everything, her swollen folds convulsing at the empty air, and at —
A touch. Him. That. Finding its place with such calm, familiar ease, its slick warm crown opening her, breaching her — and pressing.
Carving into her waiting spasming heat with a single smooth stroke, jolting her full of sudden shocking sensation, and yet more distant screaming awareness.
Kalfr was all the way inside her, his cock pulsing deep and proprietary, squeezing out that dangerous seed just where he wanted it, oh gods…
He drew out just as swiftly, leaving Raye gasping, aching, bereft — until he stroked back in.
Even faster this time, spearing all the way to the root, juddering Raye on her feet, skittering her hands against the jagged wall.
But Kalfr’s hands held steady on her hips, gripping tighter as he drew out, and punched back in.
And again, and again, until he was rutting in and out of her fast and fierce, his hips thudding, his heavy bollocks slapping between her legs.
Fucking her, like he’d never done before, and it was all Raye could do to grip the wall, to stay upright, and take it.
And even to welcome it, meeting his powerful thrusts with her own, whipping up the need and the urgency between them, and yet more undeniable truth.
Kalfr wanted this, with her. He wanted it this much, enough to bend her over and pound her senseless in a tunnel.
And she wanted it too, she’d been the one to come to him, to touch him, to decide to meet him, to trust him — and now she was revelling in the strength of it, the slick lurid sounds of it, the waiting hovering fate of it, thudding closer and closer —
Kalfr groaned as he thrust forward one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go — and then he broke, and emptied. Spurting out sharp, rhythmic bursts of molten seed inside her, feeding it hard and purposeful into the place he wanted it most. Into the place she’d just… given him.
But it was so powerful, so perfect, and with a brief rub of Raye’s hand, her own pleasure finally pitched over the edge, crashing out around him in greedy throbbing pulses. Drinking him up, wanting him in deeper, welcoming everything he was giving her, oh gods.
Kalfr had bent low over her as he poured, his breath exhaling ragged against the back of her neck, his teeth skittering against her skin.
As if he might sink them deep into her, for the first time since they’d reunited, and for an instant, Raye desperately wanted that, too.
Wanted everything, everything, no matter the cost, whatever it took…
But then — a shout. Ringing loud and grating down the hallway, followed by a thundering crunching sound, strong enough to rattle the floor beneath Raye’s feet. “It’s breaking!” hollered a voice that might have been William’s. “Voreur, we need you!”
Kalfr cursed under his breath, his hands spasming against Raye’s hips — and then he wrenched himself backwards, out of her, away. Releasing all the seed he’d just sprayed inside her, and Raye trembled at the feel of it bubbling out of her in erratic spurts, streaking in hot trails down her thighs.
She could feel Kalfr looking too, taking in the sight of what they’d just done, his breath heaving out hard. “Go — see Gael,” he rasped, and when Raye glanced backwards, he was yanking up his trousers, his eyes not meeting hers. “He will — tend you.”
Right. Raye’s stomach plunged, and she did her best to attempt a nod. But perhaps her face still betrayed too much, because Kalfr hesitated, and his eyes held hers for a brief, dizzying moment. “I —” he began, and shook his head, and bent down to press a furtive kiss to her hair. “I… thank you.”
With that, he spun and sprinted off, and vanished into the darkness. Leaving Raye there against the wall behind him, abandoned and untouched, but for his leavings still streaking down her thighs.