Page 33 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter sixteen

Brielle

It was nearly dark when she finally woke and sipped on a skin of water, washing away the faint taste of bile lingering on her tongue.

At some point, someone must have snuck in while she slept, adding logs to the fire and leaving water and food for her. Not that she had to guess. If it wasn’t Leif, it was someone acting on his word to see that his kona was taken care of.

The scent of smoked fish hit her nose, and she choked back a gag. Covering her mouth, she shook her head, willing the unease to settle. Normally, it was her favorite, but now her body betrayed her as she shoved the food away, groaning.

“Should I send for the Laeknir?”

Leif’s dark frame filled the doorway; an arm tucked behind his back. Brows pinched toward the bridge of his nose as he eyed the untouched food.

Footfalls lumbered nearer until the bed dipped under his weight.

With the hand not hidden, he cradled her jaw.

The motion was so gentle as he tilted her head to examine her, making butterflies swim in her belly.

She would have sighed if it hadn’t sent acid shooting up her throat.

Instead, she groaned, rolling her head onto his shoulder.

“Steady yourself, úlfr. I am a healer, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

Smooth leather grazed under her fingers as she caressed his biceps, grinning sleepily at the flexing muscles there.

The hard lines of his face didn’t relax at her reassurances.

Slowly, she rose to her knees, lips smiling against his rough stubble.

With her touch, he cracked, a sigh easing the tension around his eyes.

At times, a lack of appetite was worrisome. But this wasn’t one of those times. No sweat dotted her brow. No rash or fever stung her chest. While not pleasant, it would clear up in a day or two. Maybe then he would settle. In the meantime, she changed the subject.

A brow rose into her hairline as she attempted to steal a glance at what Leif had hidden behind him.

The corners of his mouth flipped upward, a hint of his white teeth flashing in the flickering firelight.

A frustrated huff shook her breasts, and Leif’s tender smile twisted into something greedy.

Need ached at her apex, coiling so tight that she might snap under his amused gaze.

“Stop,” she hissed, covering his face. “It is unfair when you look at me like that.”

“Your beauty is what is unfair, kona. Every time I look at you, I am hard between my legs.”

Fiery blush stained her cheeks, and a deep, possessive noise purred in Leif’s throat. Teeth dug into her lower lip as she hid beneath her wild curls, now loose from their braids. In the middle of her sleep, she had tugged the leather straps binding her hair free and hadn’t bothered to fix it.

“What are you hiding?” she asked.

If her stomach wasn’t still twisted in knots, she would drag him on top of her and call his name until the sun rose. The hungry way his gaze roamed over her was more than enough to make her wet and desperate for him.

Except now, he piqued her curiosity.

“You are a distraction,” he said, wet lips feathering along her temple. “I almost forgot. I have a gift for you.”

“I do not need more things.”

“Hush. I am not nearly finished spoiling you.”

It was pointless. She didn’t understand why she argued with him about it anymore.

More out of habit than anything by now. Almost daily, something arrived for her.

Whether it was clothes, furs, or some bauble that held some sort of importance.

Regardless, she learned weeks ago that this was one fight she would never win.

“Will you ever be finished?” she asked.

“No.”

Mischief glimmered in the recesses of his gaze. The bed moved as he shifted closer to her and extended his arm out. A broad grin split his face, his cheeks pushing against his eyes.

“For you. Freyja’s blessing. A token to grant love, fertility, and good fortune. You were meant to have this on our wedding day. But the babes were delayed.”

Tucked in his arms sat a tiny kitten, its fur a patchwork of umbers, creams, and russets. Claws poked out from its small, black paws as it stretched, a tiny mewling noise filling the room. The nausea forgotten, Brielle breathed a soft sound, scratching her nails along the cat’s back.

Every year, when the ground thawed, she begged her father for a pet. Dog or cat, it didn’t matter which. And every year, he swiftly dismissed her hopes. A weight hardened in her chest at the memory of her father, afraid the thought alone would summon a dark mist from the other side to drown her.

As if the little creature sensed her roaming thoughts, it padded out of Leif’s arms and into hers, purring against her chest. Sighing, Brielle held the bundle of fur out. Its brilliant amber eyes twinkled like liquid gold, blinking back at her. A giggle fell from her lips as she nuzzled the kitten.

“Do not spoil her. If she is too fat, the mice will laugh at her.”

Narrowed eyes challenged her, and she ignored them, settling the sweet creature in her lap. Leif’s chest heaved with a rough breath, but the faint smile on his lips gave him away.

“Don’t listen to him, Runa,” she fake-whispered, knowing Leif could hear her. “I will sneak you all the berries you want. And who cares if you’re not an expert mouser? Some of us are meant for different things.”

The kitten looked like a little whisper of hope. So, the name Runa felt fitting.

Leif rolled his eyes, and Brielle giggled, brushing the fur on Runa’s tiny cheek. Eventually, she fell back asleep. This time, with Leif curled against her back, and Runa burrowed under the blankets by their feet.

Throughout the night, Runa pounced at Leif, waking him with a start.

“Of course she hates me,” he mumbled sleepily into Brielle’s hair.

“She doesn’t hate you. She wants to play.”

“Before sunrise, we do not play.”

“Tell that to your scratched legs.”

“Odin’s mighty wolf, bested by a miniature kitty,” he said, kicking and losing the fight against Runa.

“Consider it practice for Ragnarok.”

Snorting, he pulled Brielle closer, mouthing at her pulse.

“When I feast in Valhalla, tell them I fought valiantly.” Runa pounced again, digging into his calves. “Damn beast,” he hissed, and Brielle laughed.

***

When another month passed, and Brielle did not improve, she suspected something was amiss. Over the years, Brielle had tended to many women with the same symptoms.

All of them with child.

For now, she planned to keep her suspicions to herself, not wanting to tell Leif until she was certain.

Her body ached, and she slept more than usual, retching every morning until her stomach stung. Most days, she was too tired to leave the longhouse. Sheets of snow and ice blanketed the earth, so many retreated into their homes, only leaving when necessary. So, no one noticed her absence.

In the corner of their home, Leif dug his dagger into a hunk of wood, shucking away chunks as he whittled. Runa purred in her lap, making a discontented noise when Brielle stopped rubbing along the ridges of her spine.

“Forgive me, oh noble kitty,” she mumbled, and Leif snorted, not looking up from his project.

A plate of meats and nuts sat next to her, still untouched.

Her clothes hung loose around her frame, not fitting as snug as they once had.

While one hand scratched Runa’s ear, the other brought a single nut to her lips, taking a bite and praying it wouldn’t make a reappearance.

Even when he stayed silent, the weight of Leif’s gaze boring into her was unmistakable.

Despite her insistence that everything was fine, he was still on edge. His wolf paced beneath the surface, agitated. Icy blue mixed with steel gray, sometimes making it hard to tell who was in control.

Leif or his wolf.

“The full moon is bright tonight. Odin is pleased,” he murmured.

Air punched from her lungs as her heart plummeted into her stomach. Runa mewled, pawing at Brielle’s legs as she gasped.

With the reminder of the full moon, she was no longer able to deny the obvious.

Wood clattered to the floor, Leif’s shadow engulfing her. He kneeled beside her, hands resting on her thighs.

“What’s wrong?”

She had to tell him. His wolf had already put it together, even if Leif hadn’t yet.

“I haven’t bled in two moons,” she said, nervous to meet his gaze.

Every time he took her since their wedding, he murmured filthy words about making her round with his child. However, now that she said it aloud, her belly swam with butterflies, making the rolling feeling worse.

In one smooth motion, Leif lifted her in his arms, sending Runa hissing under a nearby bench. Before she could say anything, his lips captured hers in a deep, adoring kiss. One that made her core flutter and all thoughts fizzle out until only blissful quiet remained.

He positioned her on the bed, hovering over her with their mouths still fused.

Hints of sweet fruit slid along her tongue.

A warm, callused hand brushed her stomach, fingers splaying over the invisible bump.

She sighed into his kiss, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

Only after her face was flushed and her lips bitten did Leif pull away, peppering a trail of kisses along her jaw and between her breasts, pausing at her navel.

“Beautiful. Perfect, kona. Look at what we’ve made. I am so proud of you. I will protect you both. Keep you safe.”

“I know you will,” she said, running a thumb over his lips.

***

Over the next six months, Leif hovered. Both the man and the wolf stood guard over her. The more her belly swelled, the more protective he grew, snarling at anyone he deemed a threat.

The ice and snow thawed, melting into the rippling streams, leaving the earth sodden and muddy in its wake. Spring birds chirped from their boughs, plucking worms from the leaves.

Brielle padded by the fire outside their home, chopping vegetables and venison for a stew while she waited for Leif to return from his hunt.