10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Her body was long and lithe over his own, her eyes glowing through the dark mask that framed them.
“This changes nothing.”
Toran grazed her cheek with his knuckles.
Her kiss, willingly given, had changed everything.
She'd lost herself to him that afternoon, oblivious to their audience.
And then she'd saved his life without hesitation.
He knew she would refute the truth of what lay between them, so he would claim her as an each uisge claimed his mate.
He would show her with his hands and his teeth on her skin.
When he lifted his mouth to her throat and skimmed the pulse that fluttered there, she moaned and arched over him. He teased her pulse, flicked it with his tongue and grazed it with his teeth. Lightly nipped it and scraped the corded veins with his incisors.
Because his beast was eager for her taste, they always grew longer in her presence. Since he’d branded her with the sigiled runemark of his each uisge half, and sipped the blood from the wound, he’d been mad with need.
His tongue and teeth chased the path of gooseflesh across her bared skin. When he reached her cleavage, he ran his nose between her breasts, savoring the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the way the flush that had suffused her cheeks now spread there too.
He laid his cheek against her skin, his fingers trailing up her side before brushing the taut coral nipple in front of his mouth. Her body surged, and she made a gurgled sound in her throat.
With a groan, he raised his head to lick the furled, flushed tips of her breasts. The taste of her filled him —salty and warm with a hint of sweat and the mint she used to clean her body.
He laved her breasts, switching from one to the other, in no hurry to move beyond this destination. Because he knew without a doubt when morning came she’d regret everything they’d done, he intended to savor her this whole night.
He flipped them over again, so she was beneath him, and when he crouched in front of her and sank his tongue into her navel, she squirmed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m tasting every inch of my wife because I don’t know if she'll allow me the chance to do it again.”
“I thought I told you to finish this,” she grumbled.
“You’ll thank me later, wife," he promised with a low growl.
When he slid his hand down her leg and grabbed her ankle, she gasped. He pushed, until her leg was bent and she was open to him —her center just below his chin. He teased her open thighs with the scruff of his beard, inhaling her scent and reveling in the slight tremble of her body’s response.
The way she smelled here was more earth and musk, and his mouth watered with the need to bury his tongue deep inside her and taste her release.
He let his chin rest on her pelvic bone as he watched her with a hooded gaze. Her body rose and fell at the mercy of his touch and he wanted to worship her surrender.
When he clenched the hood of her sex gently between his teeth, and gave it one broad determined stroke with his tongue, she bucked at the pressure. He smiled against her as she fisted the coverlet beneath them and nearly kicked him in the face.
His beast roared at the smell of her arousal, and his cock swelled against the bed, pinned there by the position he held her in.
He thrust two fingers into her channel as he licked her again and she hooked her other leg around his neck, squeezing him to her as she arched backward.
“Come for me, wife,” he commanded. She writhed beneath him again as he curled his fingers deep inside her and thrummed his tongue against her clit.
Her body surged beneath him as she tangled her hands in his hair, kneading his scalp as her heel beat a steady rhythm into the small of his back.
He growled his approval against her and she burst like a shooting star all around him.
He lapped up every drop, rolling them on his tongue and savoring them as they slid down his throat.
She keened, a sharp wail that made his beast scrabble for control, and collapsed.
When her fingers slid from his head, he crawled up her body. His mouth met hers and he wanted her to taste what he’d done to her. Their tongues tangled together and her knees rose again as she hooked her heels at the base of his spine.
Her body burned like the fires of a hearth beneath him, and he imagined if he closed his eyes he’d be able to see the sparks of their passion behind his lids.
He wasn’t going to close his eyes because he wanted to absorb every moment. When he leaned back on his haunches, she spread her legs wide. “Come, husband.”
That purred invitation was all the coaxing he needed, and he took the base of his cock and plunged inside her with one hard thrust that left them both gasping.
“You were made for me, wife,” he groaned as he dropped his head to her shoulder and set his teeth on the raised vein that ran down the side of her neck.
His beast punctured her skin and he sipped her blood as he’d sipped her juices.
When she bucked against him, he lost himself in the clasp of her body, shouting his release.
Brunhild brushed her knuckles over the broken skin of her neck and mused that her husband was not a man to be ignored. She lay in the aftermath of their third bout of lovemaking, weary and sated, the coverlet brushing her midriff. She’d kicked it off when she’d woken to him feasting on her again.
Now, the weight of one muscled arm was thrown across her waist, pinning her in place. His face was turned toward her and he was peppering every inch of skin he could reach with tiny bites.
He’d marked her thoroughly, and her neck throbbed where he’d sank his teeth in.
“We’ve missed the evening meal," she said as she stretched her arms over her head.
“I haven't missed my meal, lass. But if my mate requires sustenance, I will go to the kitchens and retrieve it.”
“Bread and cheese will suffice. And a flagon of ale or mead.”
“Consider it done, Fireheart,” he said as he pressed a hard kiss to her navel and stood.
She watched appreciatively as he strode toward the pile of clothes on the floor by the door. He wrapped his plaid around his waist, his gaze intense and hooded. He was still half-aroused, and as her eyes skimmed his legs and thighs, his cock tented the fabric.
“If you want a meal that’s not my cock, lass, you'd best stop ogling me like that.”
Brunhild laughed gustily because she loved watching how her fascination affected him. She rose to her feet and watched her husband disappear around the corner, brushing away a giddy smile.
“What games do you play with my nephew, Viking?” The woman’s voice was sharp, and Brunhild didn't welcome the intrusion.
When she turned, her inquisitor’s countenance was as sharp as her tone. Toran’s great aunt stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“I am here against my will. I play no games.”
“Many creatures have tried to ensnare him, and yet I return from my sojourn to find him wed to a prickly ice maiden who comes to the banquet hall bristling with weapons.”
“Ours is a political alliance. Nothing more than a gambit by my father to acquire more power and influence.” Brunhild’s response was rote because she knew there was nothing more between them than strategy and insatiable lust. Neither had spoken words to the contrary, and her husband would never know how his mere presence made her limbs quake and her stomach flutter.
Despite her determination to remain aloof and unaffected, she was becoming attached.
The woman crossed her arms. “Ah, yes. Your father. The famous berserker king. A man known far and wide for his lack of mercy.”
Brunhild held no fondness for her father, and she wouldn’t have taken offense if the words hadn’t seemed to be a barb meant to paint her too.
“I am not my father. And your kind can be just as ruthless as my father and his warriors. More so because you have old magic at your disposal. The same charges you level against my father could be leveled against your nephew as well.”
“My nephew is only ruthless toward those who deserve it. Those who have demonstrated their intent to harm the each uisge. He is kind and compassionate to his family, his friends and his subjects.”
“I have no designs on your nephew, madam. As I’ve told you, I am nothing more than a pawn.”
The woman shook her head in denial. “You are far more than that. You are a harbinger. Until the day of reckoning comes, none of us will know whether you are meant to be our curse or our savior.”
“My husband mentioned a prophecy at our ceremony, but provided no explanation.”
“One of the selkies has predicted our kingdom will be overcome if a queen of fire doesn’t use her sword to save it.”
“Does the entire kingdom think I am this queen of fire?”
“”I think we are all biding our time to see where your loyalties lie. We have no cause to trust the Northmen or their women.”
“I seek only the freedom to chart my own course.”
Arianrhod’s lip curled in a sneer. “That’s all you and your lot think about. Where to plunder next.”
“We live in a harsh land where winter descends hard and fast. We need the resources to feed us through lean harvest times.”
“I care not for your reasons, shield maiden. I just warn you that if you do anything to break your oaths to my nephew, or thwart his efforts to bring back our kind who have been stolen, you will rue the day you were born.”
“The Kraken have taken from more than one village?"
“Aye. The Kraken have leveled five of our villages, and taken our women and children as prisoners. We do not know why, or what they intend, but we will find out.”
“How does my husband plan to rescue them?"
“He hasn't shared his plans with me, and the reasons he hasn't shared them with you are as plain as the nose on your face. Because he doesn't trust you!” She angrily shouted.
Weary of being berated for things beyond her control, Brunhild gave the woman a sharp nod and turned on her heel.
***
The next morning, Brunhild took her customary stroll along the shore. She'd begun using the routine walk to clear her head, and she had much to think about that morning.
One of the many guards always trailed behind her and she never went anywhere unarmed, she had no reason to fear for her safety.
When a net was thrown over her head as she stepped over the rocks, she was caught off guard. She struggled to unsheathe her sword, looking around wildly for her attacker.
Harsh laughter surrounded her from all sides, and the tentacled kraken rose from the water, a cudgel in its hand.
“You’ll not save his kingdom or any other, Brunhild Ranulfsdottir. But because your fool of a husband is convinced you’re the answer to his prayers he’ll come searching for you. Just as he’s been searching for those we’ve stolen.”
“I am nothing more than a vessel and an empty bargain to my husband. He will not search for me.”
She managed to lift and twist the net enough to turn, and one of the creatures waved its tentacles back and forth.
“Our king knows your husband, and you do not. We have been fighting for centuries and victory is nearly in our grasp. Our sovereign knows you are something created by the gods to break our each uisge enemy.”