Chapter 7
Gaelfr would sleep here. With his mate. With… her?
Raye whirled to stare at him, at his hard shadowed face in the firelight. “You will do no such thing,” she said, her voice a rasp. “And I am not your mate!”
Gaelfr’s scoff was sharp, cutting through the air, scraping up her spine. But he didn’t speak, didn’t deign to answer her, and suddenly all the pent-up misery and fury from this endless day boiled in Raye’s chest, bubbling up in her throat.
“How dare you,” she snarled at him, through gritted teeth.
“How fucking dare you. To show up here, at my house, and swagger around as though you own it. As though you own my son, who you’ve never even met, before today!
And now” — she hauled in a breath, her rage surging higher — “you have the utter fucking audacity to say you own me? After you’ve done nothing but mock and judge and condemn me, all this damned day long? ”
Gaelfr’s lip curled, and he shot a narrow glance toward Svein’s closed door. “I have not mocked nor judged you this day, woman,” he replied, under his breath. “I have only sought to learn you, and our son.”
Our son. It rankled in Raye’s chest, and she barked a laugh, shook her head.
“I might have failed as a mother, but I’m not a fool,” she spat at him.
“I know how you’ve been looking at me, judging how I look.
How you’ve been ordering me around, like I’m useless in my own home.
How you think I starved Svein, and failed at his hair, and his protection, and even his tunnel.
How you think I’m even worse than that — that awful woman Kalfr wants instead of me! ”
And oh, gods, clearly she was more tired than she’d realized, because she should never have said any of this. Should never have betrayed that it mattered, that she cared what Gaelfr thought or said. He was still awful, he was dangerous, she was supposed to just be civil, that was all.
Gaelfr darted another glance at Svein’s closed door, his nostrils flaring — but perhaps he’d caught that almost nothing could awaken Svein after falling asleep, because he scoffed again, louder this time.
“You know naught of what I think, woman,” he snapped back.
“And I said Kalfr’s new woman was worse than you.
And if I have been looking at you” — his voice deepened — “it is only to wonder at how you have been starving yourself to feed our son! For you were once a plump, ripe, lush woman, and now —”
His clawed hand gestured up and down Raye’s body, at the shabby homemade dress hanging off her shoulders and breasts, while a sudden horrified humiliation burned through her chest. He really had been looking at her, judging her, all damned day long, and — and —
“And now I’m utterly hideous, is that it?” she demanded. “Along with being cruel, and stubborn, and greedy, and jealous?!”
The anger crackled in Gaelfr’s eyes too, and his lip curled, as another deep scoff escaped his lips.
“You are not hideous, woman,” he growled.
“But ach, you are yet stubborn, and greedy, and cruel! You drove both your precious son’s fathers away from him, because you could not bear that we were bound to one another!
You wreaked this great wrong upon us all, because you were jealous! ”
Raye couldn’t hide her flinch, and her breaths were heaving now, her head shaking. “As if I would be jealous of you!” she shot back. “You arrogant, aggressive, overbearing, invasive —”
She wildly flailed her hand up and down Gaelfr’s big enraging body, and in return he came a swift step closer, glowering down his nose toward her.
“You were jealous, woman,” he hissed. “You are. I can yet scent this upon you, near each time you look upon me! You wished to keep my ástvinur and our son all to yourself, and away from me!”
Raye’s laugh sounded far too shrill, and she again flapped her hand at Gaelfr’s huge form. “And can you blame me? When you’ve shown yourself to be rude, and judgemental, and demanding, and dangerous —”
“Ach, what danger have I brought you this day?” Gaelfr’s booming voice cut in, far too loud and close.
“I have fed you. I have warmed you. I have guarded you. I have cared for you, and our son. I ken, again” — his voice deepened into a taunting rumble — “you are only stubborn, and greedy, and jealous! You only wished for me to crawl to you on my knees, begging for your mercy and your favour and your touch!”
His eyes blazed on hers, cold with mockery and scorn, and Raye scoffed back toward him, a little too late. “As if I would ever,” she spat back, “want to touch the likes of you!”
There was an instant’s silence from Gaelfr before her, a widening of his eyes that might have been hurt — but then, oh gods, he laughed.
Carrying hard and cruel through the air, pitching in Raye’s stomach.
“Ach, stubborn woman,” he drawled, as his nostrils flared.
“I can scent naught of this upon you. You should never wish to touch the likes of me.”
Raye froze to a strange, sudden stillness, blinking at his face, his voice — and then, oh hell, his hand.
His big clawed hand, reaching out slow and purposeful toward her.
Giving her plenty of time to dodge sideways, or maybe to strike back, knock it away — but instead she just kept standing there, unmoving, as that hand slowly found her waist, and settled against it.
Fingers spreading wide, proprietary, until…
He yanked her close. Not easy. Not gentle.
Just thrusting Raye bodily up against his broad bare chest, all his warm scarred skin, flooding her breath with his scent.
Musky and wild and rich, tinged with salty sweat and woodsmoke.
So… familiar, so impossibly entwined with pleasure and longing — and damn it, that was again because he smelled just like Kalfr.
Just like how Kalfr had smelled as he’d arched and shuddered over her, as he’d emptied himself deep inside her.
It was enough to draw a ragged moan from Raye’s mouth, her feet staggering beneath her — but Gaelfr’s strong hand still held her, crushing her tight and close against his solid bulk.
While his other hand slipped easy and familiar up to her head, sinking into her tied-up hair, already loosening her curls around his strong fingers…
“Ach, no,” his deep voice breathed, vibrating through his big body into her chest, her groin. “You should never, woman.”
He was mocking her again, Raye’s distant thoughts shouted, judging her again, but that truth didn’t match the gentleness of his hand in her hair, or the way his other hand was now gripping firmly against her arse.
Guiding her tighter into his own groin, and into — Raye shuddered all over — the sudden, shocking ridge in his trousers.
A ridge that was far too large to be real, even compared to how generously proportioned Kalfr had been — and what the hell was Gaelfr doing, what the fuck was she allowing, was she really going to just stand here and —
“You cannot deny this, woman,” Gaelfr breathed, as his hand in her hair tilted her head sideways, away from him.
Moving her as if she was his doll, his possession, his plaything, as if he had every right to do whatever he pleased with her.
And why wasn’t she arguing, why had the entire world coiled down into his hands, his warmth, his familiar dizzying scent, those hungry demanding spasms of the beast in his trousers.
“For this was settled with our vows, many moons past,” he went on, a soft taunting caress. “It was sworn into sacred law before the goddess. Kalfr is my ástvinur, and you are his mate. And thus” — a low, satisfied growl — “you are mine.”
Mine. Mine. Mine. Echoing, simmering, burrowing quiet and strange. And in this taut, hanging moment, maybe Raye could see it, maybe she could admit it, drink it up for just one more breath…
“Mine to guard,” Gaelfr whispered, his breath hot and hungry against her shivering skin. “Mine to command. Mine to tend and feed and fatten as I see fit. Mine to touch, and taste, and keep.”
The words were impossible, unthinkable, the most appalling things anyone had ever said to Raye in her life. So why was she thrumming to life beneath them, the heat rushing to her lower belly, her body arching into his —
His mouth. Hot. On her skin. Lips, so soft. Tongue clever and slick, tasting and twining down her neck, firing out stunning flickers of bliss beneath her skin. He was kissing her, and now seeking down further, and further. Until he found that perfect spot, just at the crook of her neck…
Raye quivered and gasped, because it was the same place Kalfr had liked most, too.
The same place where she surely still bore scars from Kalfr’s teeth.
And how had she forgotten that, how had she forgotten what it must look like, what it felt like.
That taunting scraping sharpness amidst the softness, a warning, a dizzying wonderful threat —
And with a groan and a shudder, Gaelfr’s teeth bit down, and pierced deep into Raye’s throat.