Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
BLORJORN
She’s tight. Hot. Perfect.
Her body stretches to accommodate me, inner walls clenching, adjusting. A moan tears from her throat—pleasure and pain tangled in a sound that makes my blood sing.
I hold still. Give her time. Every instinct screams at me to move, to take, to claim—but I wait. Watch her face. Watch the furrow between her brows smooth as her body accepts me.
“More.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Blorjorn, move.”
I pull back slowly. Drive in again. Her head falls back, exposing the line of her throat, and I lean down to taste the pulse hammering beneath her skin.
We find a rhythm. Slow at first—long, deep strokes that let me feel every inch of her wrapped around me. She moves with me, hips rising to meet each thrust, her hands exploring my back, my arms, any part of me she can reach.
“Faster.” Her breath comes in pants. “Harder. I won’t break.”
Something primal surges through me.
I hook her leg over my hip, change the angle, and drive into her with all the hunger I’ve been holding back. The cellar fills with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, her gasps and my growls, the wet slide of our bodies. The fire casts wild shadows on the walls.
She claws at my back, nails scoring lines into my flesh. Marks me. Makes me hers as surely as I’m making her mine.
“Look at me.” I grip her jaw, force her gaze to mine. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”
Her eyes meet mine. Hazel and gold, glazed with pleasure, pupils blown wide. She’s beautiful like this—wrecked and wanting and completely present. No walls. No defenses. Just her, stripped bare in every way.
“Blorjorn—” Her voice breaks. “I’m going to—”
“Then let go.” I drive deeper. Harder. “I’ve got you.”
She splinters around me.
Her whole body goes taut, back arching, mouth falling open on a silent scream. Her inner walls clamp down on me in rhythmic pulses, milking me, dragging me over the edge with her.
I bury myself to the hilt and let go.
Release crashes through me—blinding, devastating, the kind of pleasure that rewrites everything you thought you knew. I spill inside her with a roar that echoes off the cellar walls, my whole body shuddering, my arms barely holding me above her.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We breathe each other’s air. Our hearts pound in tandem.
Then I roll to the side, pulling her with me, keeping her close. Her head settles on my chest. Her leg drapes over mine. We fit like we were made for this.
Maybe we were.
The fire burns low.
We lie tangled on the wolf-pelt, her body pressed against mine, her breath warming my chest. I trace lazy patterns on her spine, feel her shiver at each touch.
“Mine to protect now.” The words come out before I can stop them. Possessive. Primal.
She lifts her head, meets my gaze. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.” I cup her face, brush my thumb across her swollen lips. “Not to own. Not to control. But to keep safe. To fight for.” I pause. “To want, every day, for as long as you’ll let me.”
Something shifts in her expression. The wariness fades. Something softer takes its place.
“I’ve never been anyone’s anything.” Her voice is quiet. Vulnerable in a way she rarely allows. “I’ve spent fifteen years making sure of it.”
“Then this is new for both of us.” I press my lips to her forehead. “I haven’t let myself want anything in years. You terrify me.”
A surprised laugh escapes her. “I terrify you?”
“More than any army.” I hold her gaze. “Because I could survive losing a battle. I’m not sure I could survive losing you.”
She stares at me. For a long moment, I think she’ll pull away—will remember all the reasons this is wrong, will rebuild the walls I just spent hours tearing down.
Instead, she presses her lips to mine. Soft. Sweet. Nothing like the desperate hunger from before.
“I can live with that,” she whispers against my mouth. “For now.”
For now. Not a promise. Not a declaration. But a beginning.
I pull her closer, and she comes willingly. We lie there as the fire dies to embers, as the night deepens around us, as the world outside waits to hunt us again.