Wulf
As a beast who hunts monsters, I know what peril feels like. It is like the frantic leap within one's chest when falling from a high cliff into the unknown.
My heart makes that same motion as Verena surges forward to grip my arm, dragging her hot tongue through the warmth dripping from my wound. I inhale sharply at first, but then I cannot tear my gaze away as this woman laps at my spilled blood as if she will die without its taste.
Her rapturous moan at its flavor makes this alcove suddenly far too warm. Her soft lips seal over the cut upon my arm, and a shudder runs through me.
"There now, was that so bad?" the mirror ghost teases. Relief and satisfaction are clear on his face as he watches Verena. "You'll loathe hearing this yet again, but feeding on blood like this, daily, is the only way for you to survive in Reinhilde's body."
So, the evil queen subsists on blood?
But with Verena's self-professed hatred for gore…
How torturous it must be for someone like her to awaken in that cruel creature's body.
I open my mouth, prepared to suggest that even if she is frightened of me, she should simply use me for this dark need.
But when Verena's surprisingly sharp teeth clamp down near the injury, and she begins to draw from me in earnest, my own dark need roars to the surface.
A surge of something unlike I have ever felt causes a rough groan to break from my lips. Her soul's light, crisp scent grows stronger until it is nearly palpable, sinking into my lungs to coat my own cursed soul.
I have felt inklings of desire before, but nothing like this.
This is more akin to a time, years ago, when an innkeeper's wife slipped a strong aphrodisiac into my mead at dinner, eager to fall in bed with a fabled northern warrior.
Telling her husband at once, I left them to argue and locked myself in my room upstairs.
That night was spent in feverish need, my hand offering little reprieve from that agony of lust.
This lust is like that, but it is also different.
It is new. Feral.
Whatever she is doing to me, already I would gladly let it consume me.
The throbbing in both my chest and my cock becomes so intense that I stumble until my back is against the alcove wall. The motion accidentally dislodges Verena's mouth from my arm.
At once, my hands circle her waist. I pull her closer in a silent protest of the loss of this indescribable sensation—but already, she is rising onto her tiptoes.
Her tantalizing body presses against my eager one. Her warm breath fans over my neck. The pounding of my heart is a ceremonial drum, counting down impatiently as I tilt my head to give her better access.
My ragged breathing quickens as Verena's lips seal over the side of my neck. She sucks the skin harshly there for a long moment. I am gripping her waist too tightly now, my hips tilting forward too urgently as I wait for her to feed.
Her sharp teeth nearly find their mark—but before she can truly draw blood, she rips herself away with a horrified gasp.
No.
I am so mad with lust that when she presses her hands to my chest, attempting to push away from me, I forget to release my tight grip around her.
"Why did you stop?" I barely recognize my own frustrated rasp.
Her scent is still dancing about me, pulling me closer until my lips graze her temple.
"Let me go," Verena orders.
I obey at once. Both because I cannot disobey and because there is a hint of fear in her tone, reminding me of all I've done.
I watch as she takes three strides backward until her back is pressed against the opposite stone wall of the alcove. The new distance between us mocks the ache in my pants.
I cannot pull my gaze away from the rise and fall of her breasts near the neckline of her gown as she draws deep, measured breaths.
"Verena," the reflection ghost prompts. "That wasn't enough. You need more—"
"Please just shut up, Eris."
When she speaks, I glimpse sharpened points on a couple of her teeth, almost like the fangs of a dog. Her eyes are closed, her lips and chin smeared with my blood. She is morbidly striking, her beautiful red hair pouring over her shoulders, tapering off near her waist.
"Get a grip," she whispers to herself, struggling with something unseen. "You can't just go around chomping on hot, scary Vikings. Especially if it makes them horny. This is so fucking messed up."
Am I a Viking? I have never heard this term before.
"Feeding always has that effect, but your thirst is what matters right now. Drink more," Eris insists.
She shakes her head, appearing pained as she swallows. She reaches up to rub her teeth, which suddenly appear as human as they did before.
Lust still clouds my thoughts, but I ignore it to speak truthfully. "My lifeblood is just as sworn to you as I am. If you thirst, take what you desire from me."
"Cut it out," Verena scowls, looking between the reflection and me in disbelief. "Why are you both making this even harder on me? I already drank some, so I'm good. I don't want to be this fucked-up vampire witch monster thing, so—Wulf, pinch me."
I'm already stepping forward, compelled to obey. But I dig in my feet and fight to resist, jaw clenching.
"What? No. I will not harm you ever again."
"I'm a grown-ass woman. I can handle a pinch, and I just need something to help me snap out of it." She holds out an arm. "Make it hard."
"No," I snarl, but it's too late.
The pledge I swore has already forced my fingers to grip her skin, pinching and twisting it enough that Verena jolts, grimacing.
I immediately rip my hand back, swearing in Hjemic.
She exhales slowly, nodding and rubbing her reddened arm. "Okay. Good. I'm not just thinking about tearing into your neck to get another hit anymore. That's progress."
Eris sighs. "Look, I'm sorry you hate it so much, but you do need to get used to it."
"Like hell I do. I only have to get by long enough to read those books and find a way back to my world," Verena grumbles, wiping the blood off her face with a dress sleeve.
The need pumping through me is no longer fogging my head. Although I now cannot look at Verena without picturing more of her lips, tongue, and teeth on me, I try to consider how to best serve the woman I am pledged to.
I glance at Eris. "What happens if she does not drink blood daily?"
"She'll fall dangerously ill," he mutters, glowering at her. "She's treating this as nothing more than a minor supplement she must tolerate, but nothing else can sustain her. The queen's diet is blood alone. Verena is starving herself."
She glowers back at him. "Bite me."
"Bite Wulf."
"Bite no one, if it sours your stomach," I cut in before their arguing gains more traction.
That draws their attention to me, but Verena's gaze drops to my bleeding arm. She swears, turning away and holding her breath.
Determined to spare her obvious revulsion for gore and blood, I scoop the ripped bandages off the ground to rebind my arm as I speak.
"If you cannot stand feeding from me directly, what you need can be mixed in with other things. Perhaps wine to hide the color."
She walks out of the alcove as if seeking fresh air before returning, pensive.
"Yeah, okay. I'll try anything to make this easier. And at least this way, I won't be accidentally forcing you to get all excited and…big. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice that. Sorry for the blue balls," Verena adds, glancing down as though this apology is for my cock.
Her attention to my dying lust is only reviving it again. I'm sorely tempted to suggest that we try this once more in her bed, where I can make certain she will be too overwhelmed with pleasure to feel any remorse about drinking the blood I am more than willing to give her.
Yet even now, the way she stands makes it clear she is wary of me, so I keep my mouth shut.
Besides, I should be repaying my sins against her, not hoping to hear her moan again.
"Spiking drinks won't be nearly enough blood for you," Eris warns her.
"Your new nickname is Debbie Downer."
"Fine, don't heed me. I'm only the real Reinhilde's former prisoner, so what do I know of her malady?"
Verena ignores his sarcasm to frown at me. "Now that my brain is starting to function again, where did you just come from, and who the hell cut your arm?"
Briefly, I recount finding the former Favored whom Eris warned me of. I caught him as he was trying to enter a solitary door at the base of the castle wall. Strangely, he could not turn the handle nor break the glass to escape me.
It was a small skirmish that was over quickly, but he had a second knife hidden in his robe and managed to take a swipe at me before I killed him.
"You killed him?" she repeats. "Sheesh. Is there no justice system in this world? Whatever happened to getting a trial? Why didn't you throw him in the dungeon?"
"He intended to kill you," I grit.
"And what, you just don't like other people crowding in on your hobby?" she points out dryly.
Even if Verena treats it with humor, her reminder of my past actions is a hammer to my head. The desire flooding my body has not cooled completely, but remembering her screams and the way she thrashed, drowning in the pool of that dungeon…
"I would give my life to erase that day from existence," I whisper.
"Enough of the giving-up-life thing," she huffs.
"In fact, I would really appreciate it if everyone could stop dying in this fucked-up world.
Next time someone tries to kill the queen—which let's face it, is probably going to happen again soon since she was a complete bitch—I'd like to at least ask them a few questions and try to spare a life. "
She is merciful.
But to protect one so good, I cannot show mercy to her enemies. I would rather her loathe my penchant for violence than risk seeing her harmed by anyone or anything.
I keep my mouth shut again, but my resolve must show on my face because when Eris catches my eye in the window's reflection, he nods.
It's a silent agreement. Verena detests violence, so we will not tell her when something like this happens again.
"I seriously don't want to ask this, but knowing my brain, I have to," the ravishing woman sighs. "What did you do with the body?"
My gaze moves to her once more. "Nothing. I returned to check that you were unharmed."
"So there's just a corpse sitting around outside the secret passage? Superb. If it wasn't haunted before, it definitely is now."
Her question is a reminder that she's not of this world. Curious, I tip my head.
"Do the witchfolk in your land not collect the bones of the dead?"
Verena's dark blue eyes widen. "Bones?"
I nod. "Witchfolk use them for magic spells and as a form of currency with one another."
"Everyone in Eidengrau knows that dead bodies left unsupervised outdoors will quickly be spirited away by witchfolk," Eris agrees. "But only human bodies. Bones of animals, monsters, and other witchfolk are completely useless, of course."
"Of course," she repeats flatly.
"Even in Aurefeld, where magic is strictly forbidden, abandoned corpses disappear," he goes on.
"Some find it rather useful for avoiding the stink of death—although most try to bury their loved ones quickly, so they will not be lost forever to an unmarked grave in the shadows of the Loomdark.
I'm sure that's where the witchfolk will take whatever remains of your would-be assassin, after he has lost his bones. "
Verena stares at both of us for a long moment before shuddering with her entire body.
"Ew. Okay, new topic. I should go back and apologize for running out on Snow White, but first…
" She regards me, thoughtful. "Since I've already snapped and drank from you once, and since your B-word is disturbingly good, maybe it's better if I just command you to leave the castle and forget about this whole sworn-obedience-vow schtick. "
I tense, finding the idea of leaving her side far fouler than I can comprehend.
Before I can remind her that I will never harm her, or explain that there is no true release from my life of servitude except by Eldrunia herself, Eris speaks again.
"Feeling far more confident with Merrick and other potential allies on their way, are you? Still, keeping a magically-pledged huntsman around for extra protection can't hurt."
Though this lost soul is strange, I appreciate his mirror-bound presence at this moment.
Verena idly rubs her bruised hand, looking away.
"I beg to differ. What if the next time I'm trying to sneak back in through my secret passage, he thinks I'm an assassin and kills me without asking a single question, like he did with poor Boneless Bob?"
I earned my reputation as a legendary warrior in Nordhjem at such a young age that this sudden need to prove my capability feels completely foreign.
Since Verena is clearly not one to forget past harm, nor should she be, I square my shoulders.
"Keep me at your side always, and I shall know every disguise you wear. I will not hurt you again. If I do, command me to leave."
If she does command me to leave her, I would suffer greatly until my death, and my afterlife would be one of bitter, never-ending solitude. After all, I pledged a lifetime of devotion and obedience to her by Eldrunia's sacred tears—and I cannot fulfill that if I am not at her side until my death.
But there is no use telling her that, for I intend to prove I am a worthy protector.
After a moment, Verena gives in. "Who am I to say no to Thor? Fine, stick around. But if you're going to be staying in the castle until I blow this fairy tale popsicle stand, do you have some belongings to move in? Clothes, boots, more shiny axes, stuff like that?"
My single bag of belongings and valuables is safely stashed at a home of kind northerners living near Isenhold. They'll have kept it safe for me, as usual.
I nod. "I'll retrieve my things and return at once."
"No rush, big guy."
She seems relieved as I leave her in the alcove.
Whether that is because she wants to keep me far away because I still frighten her, or whether she simply dislikes me, I swear that I will earn Verena's trust if it is the last thing I do.