Page 14 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter seven

Leif

Little pieces of his chest splintered like worn wood when Brielle looked at him like that. He hated leaving her. But duty demanded it. Now that he had her, being away from her left a hollow chill in the spot where his heart was.

When he left her with Astrid, he made it only a few steps before Amund had to stop him from returning to her. He despised being the one to cause her pain, even if it was unavoidable. As Konungr, he had a duty to protect his people and maintain the tentative harmony among the clans.

Power was claimed through blood.

And peace was maintained much the same way.

As much as it hurt him to see that pinched look on her face, his firebird was strong. Soon, she would trust that he would always return to her. Now that he had found her, he was never letting her go. Nothing could stop him from finding his way back to her.

Nearly a decade ago, he had served as his father’s jarl. An honor he wore proudly. One of his duties was to collect the yearly cache of supplies from the Christian village at the heart of the forest. It was a mundane task, but a necessary one.

One, a younger Leif despised.

During his last visit, his eyes met the doe-eyed gaze of a girl a few years younger than him. His heart froze in his chest, turning the air in his lungs to ice.

From that moment on, he knew there was something special about her. About them. Something inside urged him to steal her away from that dreadful place.

She didn’t belong there.

She belonged with him.

Yet, he resisted, lamenting the decision when he became Konungr and no longer looked upon her face once a year.

Still, at night, when he was alone, he saw visions of her. Visions of the woman she had grown into. Visions of a beautiful, wild girl laughing as she lured him into the woods, only to vanish when he found her.

Deep down, he believed the gods would reunite them if fate willed it. A delicate tendril of hope warmed him in the lonely years that followed.

Despite being surrounded by those he trusted, he never felt more alone. His father had warned him of the burdens he would face as Konungr.

And after Odin blessed him, the distance between him and others only grew.

An ache persisted in his chest, his heart yearning for the one it beat for.

For his pretty, wild girl.

Then, that day in the forest, Leif had been hunting when he heard it. The high-pitched scream of a woman. He prowled through the trees, watching as two men cornered the girl. Based on their torn leathers and rusted weapons, they were outcasts.

Dishonored among clan and kin.

A basket of herbs lay discarded by her feet. That was when he recognized her, almost dropping to his knees with relief. Those unforgettable almond eyes flecked with gold. Those freckles dusting her tanned cheeks like twinkling constellations.

Before he could control it, his wolf took over.

The word mate chanted in his mind over and over again as he shifted. His massive paws dug into the chilled earth, and he lumbered into the clearing, the forest shuddering with each decisive step.

Both men stilled, staring openly at his intimidating form. He scented their fear in the air. Yet, when his head snapped to the girl’s, all he saw was beautiful resolve glittering in her gaze.

So brave, his girl.

His.

Knocking his head back, he howled.

Not wanting to frighten her by shifting back, he stayed as the wolf. Even though she fought it, she was weak, and he wouldn’t leave her.

Not again.

From that moment on, she was his to protect. As long as she would have him, he would stay.

When she collapsed in his arms by the stream, he whispered a prayer to Freyja, promising to honor her above all others. He could never thank her enough for bringing him to the other half of his soul. Once she was in his arms, there was no doubting it. Her heart beat in his.

He planned to spend a lifetime protecting, worshiping, and cherishing her.

However long or short that life was.

Leif fell in step with Amund, making the trek down the coast with his most trusted men.

His fingers flexed on the hilt of his axe, the leather supple beneath his touch.

They were only about an hour’s walk away from their destination.

The clan to the northeast did not send a warrior to serve the main village as per their agreement.

It was possible they were delayed. Or they were breaking the terms of peace with a silent act of defiance.

Regardless, Leif would leave their town with his warrior, either by compliance or force. It was their choice.

“I am happy for you,” Amund said. “Sorry, I stole you away from your firebird.”

“A necessary evil,” Leif said.

Nodding, Amund spoke. “When we arrive. Will you enter as a wolf or a man?”

All the clans knew of his wolf.

Feared it.

It was a powerful tool, but one he reserved for desperate situations. He preferred to engage as a person first, especially if there was a chance for negotiation. He only shifted into his wolf if there was no way to avoid bloodshed.

Sometimes, even if a fight was inevitable, he remained human, preferring to use his own hands.

The leaf cover grew denser the further they traveled toward the coast. The air was warmer closer to the ocean, and the winter frost hadn’t hit here yet.

Smoke billowed through the treetops. Leif stuck an arm out, stopping Amund.

The other men fell in line, all of them facing Leif.

He crouched, his fingers hovering over fresh marks in the mud.

The village in the distance was small, roughly a few dozen people.

Only a handful of those were men of fighting age.

Another possibility he hadn’t thought of was that they were cowards, hiding away from their responsibilities. Based on the large footprints in the dirt, it looked like a dozen men fled from the village, heading toward the caves.

They left their wives and children alone, hoping they would be spared. Leif wasn’t a monster. He would leave them untouched, but he didn’t like deserters. Especially those who sacrificed the ones they were sworn to protect to save themselves.

Ten of his men could easily take on twenty of theirs. He stood, pressing his hands into his thighs as he rose to his full height.

“You five,” Leif grunted, pointing at the group of men to Amund’s right. “Go to the village. Do not harm anyone. Tell them their husbands have died, and you will take them and their families to safety. Be gentle. They will be grieving. Bring them back to our village, find them homes.”

The men nodded, disappearing into the thicket as they approached the smokestacks.

“úlfr,” Amund said, bowing his head. “We are at your command.”

Pressing a finger to his lips, Leif gestured for the three other men with him and Amund to follow. Leif led from the front, following the footprints.

Broken branches lay scattered along the path. After another half hour, they reached a cave nestled into the cliff face that separated the forests from the beach.

Leif held his axe in front of him, smiling at how the sunlight glinted off the blade. All the surrounding noise dimmed. All he heard was the steady hum of his heart thundering in his ears.

“There is no glory in cowardice,” he snarled, his wolf begging to be set free.

Leif refused.

This was an instance when he needed to do it with his own hands. He would take no warrior. And he would spare none.

“No one in that cave is to be given mercy.”

“úlfr,” all the men chanted, their weapons drawn.

Icy spray from the sea blew in on the breeze, clinging to Leif’s beard, forming crystals. He signaled his men forward. Five against a dozen. Some would call him a fool, but he knew his men. He knew what they were capable of.

Outside the cave’s dark maw, ashes smoldered in a campfire. The men huddled inside. Storming in would be unwise, leading to an ambush. They needed to lure them out in the open.

Silently, Leif positioned his men on either side of the cave.

If they intended to hide out for a long time, they would need supplies.

Leif captured a rabbit by the scruff, sending it bounding in front of the entrance.

He cursed under his breath when no one appeared to hunt the game.

They must have enough food stores for the rabbit not to be tempting.

With the crook of two fingers, Leif summoned his jarl to his side. Amund crouched beside him, his axe at the ready in his hand.

“Call to them. Tell them their Konungr commands it.”

Amund nodded, moving to stand by the remains of the fire. If the men inside were more terrified than small children, the hope of forgiveness may draw them out. Leif doubted their intelligence if they dared to defile their duty to their Konungr and their people.

“Come forward,” Amund’s deep voice bellowed. “Your Konungr demands your presence.”

Blood thrummed in his ears, his heartbeat pulsing in his fingertips.

His tongue licked across his lips, the scent of fear mingling in the air with ocean mist. Movement stirred in the depths of the cave, his wolf picking up on the most minute of sounds.

One figure moved into the sunlight, and Leif held up a hand.

No one moved at his command. Amund’s shoulders tensed, his face pulled into a tight expression as three more armed men emerged from the cave. Despite his body language, Amund remained calm, not attacking. He trusted Leif with his life, just as Leif trusted him.

Once nine men evacuated the cave, Leif signaled to attack.

The ambush was swift and decisive.

Amund slit the throats of two men before they even had time to raise their spears. Sprays of crimson stained the muddy sand. Leif pushed through the scuffle, maneuvering into the cave where three men stood, spears raised.

A deadly smile slid into place on Leif’s face as he taunted the men with a flourish of his axe.