Chapter 5 Svenn
The cottage sits at the forest's edge, abandoned by some long-dead woodsman. I found it on my way back from the fortress. The roof is intact and the walls are solid enough to keep out the wind. A place where we can be alone, away from the court's watching eyes and whispered judgments.
Rhianelle moves through the single room like she belongs here, checking the stone hearth, testing the wooden shutters. Three weeks apart, and I've forgotten how the sight of her can stop my breath.
She kneels by the hearth to coax flames from the kindling I gathered. Her silver hair catches the firelight as she studies the growing flames. Even the simplest tasks draw my attention like nothing in this world ever has.
I cross the room to her. She turns at my approach, firelight dancing in her eyes.
"I missed you," she says quietly. "Every night I woke up reaching for you."
The words shatter whatever restraint I've been clinging to. I cup her face in both hands, thumbs stroking across her cheekbones. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.
"I missed you too," I say against her forehead.
She latches a hand on the back of my neck and tows me down for a kiss. My cock is hard before her tongue even enters my mouth. A grunt leaves me when it does, sliding through my parted lips.
I back her against the wall, my hands working at the ties of her cloak. The fabric falls away, pooling at our feet.
She breaks the kiss and pulls my tunic over my head. My scars catch her gaze, but she doesn't flinch. She traces one with her mouth, and I nearly groan from the restraint it takes not to take her right then.
I bring her face up to mine and claim her lips again. This earns me a little gasp that I want to eat right up. Nel always kisses like she may never get a chance again. She gives it everyhing. I chuckle at her eagerness.
She tugs at my breeches, her fingers fumbling with the leather laces in her haste.
The laughter dies in my throat.
Her soft hand slides along my stiff length and I shudder. I close my eyes, letting her delicate touch tease me for a moment longer.
"Slowly." I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head.
“Tell me you won’t leave me ever again—”
I crush her lips to mine, rougher this time. My free hand traces the column of her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. I move lower to the neckline of her dress. The fabric parts under my touch, revealing the pale curve of her breast.
I take one nipple into my mouth. She moans louder, her back bowing off the wall. I lavish attention on the sensitive flesh, using teeth and tongue until she's writhing against me. My fingers skim her ribs as I suck ravenously then nip the tip.
She arches against me, breath coming in short gasps. "Svenn, please—"
"I dreamed about this," I murmur against her skin. "Every night on that frozen battlefield. The taste of you, the sounds you make when I touch you here." My hand slips between her thighs.
“More,” she begs.
The demand in her voice almost undoes me.
I’m dying to be buried in her but I want this to last. I release her wrists, my hands making quick work of her remaining clothes.
She stands naked before me in the firelight, her skin golden and perfect.
I trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, committing every detail to memory.
I take her thigh, hooking it over my arm, and enter her in one smooth thrust. Her back hits the wall.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she fights her need to scream.
The pace I set is punishing and yet she shoves herself back against me, meeting my thrusts.
She keeps grinding on me, intent on her pleasure.
Selfish girl.
A whimper slips free when I hit her sensitive spot.
"Please don't stop." She digs her fingers into my hair, into my back.
I love it when she demands her pleasure. I tilt my hips forward and change the angle, giving her the deep strokes that she wants. My balls draw up tight and my vision wavers. The look on her face and the pacing of her breaths tell me she's getting close.
I love watching Rhianelle come apart. Her brows furrow and her lips part slightly.
She's fucking gorgeous.
Another rough thrust and she shatters with a strangled cry, her whole body convulsing against mine.
A tense coil of impending release builds in my body but I hold back, watching the hazy desire swimming in her lilac eyes. It takes everything in me not to follow her over the edge.
I want more of her. I want this to last.
I lift her up by her thighs and carry her to the rough wooden bed.
“Svenn!” she squeals in surprise when I do it, her arms flying around my neck for balance.
I cross the small cottage in three strides, her body warm and pliant against mine.
When we reach the bed, I lower her slowly, letting her feel every inch of the descent.
Her back meets the furs and she pulls me down with her, legs wrapping around my waist. The movement brings us together and I brace myself on my forearms, caging her beneath me.
“I want you,” she says quietly.
She sucks in a small gasp when I plunge into her. I barely hear it, but I feel the rush of air as she trembles against my collarbone. I grit my teeth allowing her to adjust before I move.
Her eyes meet mine in the flickering light.
“Stop holding back,” she whispers breathlessly. A deep blush paints her cheeks as she says it, but there is nothing shy in her gaze. Only hunger that matches my own.
I begin to move then, slow and deep. The cottage fills with the sounds of her gasps and my growls, accompanied by the rhythmic creak of the wooden frame beneath us.
The beasts inside me quiet at her touch. They settle beneath my skin like they recognize home. But the hunger remains. This hunger that grows teeth, that wants to devour and possess.
I slam into her watching her face. Her moans are so fucking sweet. Every noise she makes goes straight to my cock.
I feel her tighten around me again and my own control slips. I grip her hips harder, pounding into her to the hilt.
She locks her legs around me, drawing me deeper. I’m so fucking done for. Even if I was determined to hold out longer this is too much pleasure to deny. My hips jerk and I drive into her faster, harder. I groan a little too loudly.
She shatters around me, crying out my name. The sensation pulls me over the edge with her. The release jolts from the base of my spine and I come with a roar, spilling myself deep inside her.
Her hands frame my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. My heart quickens until it's a deadly drum. I know without a doubt she will be the end of me. I capture her lips in another ravenous kiss, letting her feel the edge of my fang.
We lie tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my arms wrapped around her. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips to her silver hair.
"I love you," I say quietly.
Her breath stutters against my skin. She pulls back just enough to search my face. We've known how we feel for each other. We've shown it in a thousand ways. But I've never said it plainly before.
“Say it again.”
I brush her hair back from her face. “I love you.”
Rhianelle lays her head back on my chest and listens to my heartbeat. She doesn’t speak for a while. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“When this war ends,” she murmurs at last, “I think I’ll need a second oven for our future bakery.”
I glance down at her. “You’re already expanding?”
“The first one won’t be enough,” she says, utterly serious. “If I open at dawn, there will be a line. I don’t want anyone turned away.”
I imagine her there, flour dusting her hands, arguing with an oven that won’t heat evenly.
My wife wants another oven.
Hel, I’d build it myself. One with stone hearth and iron door. Something that holds heat properly.
I could set up a forge nearby, next to her bakery. Take commissions for fixing ploughs or mending blades.
It wouldn’t be a bad life. The thought stops me cold.
What the fuck am I doing?
I know better than this. Hope is for fools who haven't learned yet. I buried that weakness years ago, crushed it under every broken promise and every time I reached for something and watched it turn to ash.
And yet here I am, building bakeries in my head. Imagining a forge with my name above the door. Letting myself want things.
It's pathetic.
Whatever we have tonight—it’s nothing more than just borrowed moments before everything goes to shit again.
I should know better.
But when Rhianelle talks about her bakery with that light in her eyes and plans for a future like it's something we're owed… I want to believe her. I want to believe in morning crowds and the smell of fresh bread and a life where the worst thing that happens is an oven running cold.
It's a stupid, reckless kind of hope.
Rhianelle shifts against me, oblivious to the war in my head. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, slow and drowsy. She's growing heavier in my arms, her breathing evening out.
"You're quiet," she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
"Just thinking."
"About ovens?" There's a smile in her voice.
"About you." I press my lips to the top of her head. Always about you.
She hums contentedly and burrows deeper into my side. Her leg hooks over mine, claiming more of me. The fire burns lower. Shadows lengthen across the cottage walls.
Her breathing slows further, deepening into the rhythm of sleep. I think she's gone until she mumbles something against my chest.
"...needs more butter...
I still, listening.
"The dough," she breathes, barely coherent. “Too dry... add honey... maybe cinnamon..."
Even in her dreams, she's there. In that bakery that doesn't exist, building a life we might never have.
I bury the hope and hold her tighter. Because even as I lose myself in her warmth, something cold whispers in the back of my mind.
The eclipse is coming.