Page 34 of Heart of the Wolf

Not relying on others to provide their food was a point of pride for him, Konungr or not.

Every night, Leif brought home the rabbits she craved.

He would settle in by the fire, munching on the fruits and nuts Brielle gathered, curling her into his chest while he stroked her hair.

Their stores of fruit were running low. But with spring approaching, she planned on collecting more, assuming Astrid or Liv helped her.

Bending over proved difficult with her protruding belly.

In a few weeks, after the baby came, it would be easier.

With more effort than she liked, Brielle carefully lowered herself onto a log by the fire pit, cooking their supper.

As the vegetables softened under the heat, a shadow eclipsed the sun, hidden by her broad-shouldered Dane. Leif beamed at her, pride swelling in his chest at the very pregnant sight of her.

And very much his.

Her cheeks flamed with the heat of his gaze. Brielle never got used to its intensity.

She wobbled and rocked, trying to stand, huffing in frustration. Admitting defeat, she threw her hands in the air, narrowing her eyes at Leif. He chuckled, gently closing his callused fingers around her wrists, helping her up.

“Thank you,” she sighed, resting her hands on her hips and arching to try to relieve some of the pressure on her lower back.

Leif placed a string of rabbits by the fire and cupped her face, his thumbs stroking the swells of her cheeks.

“My sun and sky,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

“My moon and stars,” she said, gazing into his endless eyes.

“Hjartae mitt,” he added, stealing a heady kiss from her that left her lightheaded. “Min dottir,” he said, rubbing a palm over Brielle’s swollen belly.

“You don’t know if it’s going to be a girl, Leif,” she huffed a laugh. “It could be a boy.”

Bending down, Leif pressed a tender kiss to her stomach, smiling as he felt their baby kick.

“I know. Even in your belly. She is stubborn and fiery, like her mother,” he laughed.

Brielle swatted the back of his head.

“See,” he snorted, rubbing the tender spot. “Firebird.”

***

After dinner, they crawled into bed, both tired for different reasons. The demands of hunting, meeting with the clans, and constantly checking on her stretched Leif thin.

Sleep proved to be pointless for her and had been for weeks. Beside her, Leif’s eyes were closed, his mouth parted with slow breaths while his hand palmed her stomach.

A malicious side of her wanted to shake him awake. It was his fault she hadn’t slept well in weeks. Why should he enjoy a restful evening when tiny feet kept kicking her?

No matter what position she tried, her protruding belly made it impossible to get comfortable. Her ankles were swollen, her back ached, and she had developed an insatiable appetite for rabbits.

She huffed, knowing that she still had a few weeks left of this torture.

Careful not to wake him, she slipped out of bed. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, going for a walk helped. It was unseasonably warm, and she took advantage of it, only taking a light shawl with her as she stepped outside.

The midnight sun had barely sunk beyond the horizon, the chill of darkness brushing along her pink cheeks.

The moon and stars had awoken before the sun had fully descended for the night.

A few lingering smiles welcomed her, bowing their heads in greeting as she moved toward the outskirts of the village.

She stroked her palm over her bump, flexing her bare feet in the lush grass.

It was their favorite spot, one that previously belonged to Leif alone, but had since become theirs. The valley was in full bloom with wildflowers, spring dancing its way across the clearing that overlooked the swirling tides below.

Now. Now, it was the place she sought when she couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t long before a familiar thud of footsteps drew up behind Brielle.

Two hands cradled her stomach, lifting it gently to hold the weight, making her sigh.

Lips brushed along her jaw. She was never able to sneak away without him noticing.

Even before their child, he was always in tune with her, but now everything intensified.

The warm body wrapped around her, stepped back silently, and the hum of magic blew her hair over her breasts. Her wolf’s face nudged her spine, urging her to sit.

Easier said than done.

Once she plopped onto the ground, Leif joined her.

Brielle hummed, leaning into the plush bed of fur curled protectively around her.

A cold snout nudged her cheek, forcing her gaze to connect with a pair of enormous, icy eyes.

They blinked slowly at her before the massive wolf laid its muzzle gently atop her belly.

Brielle relaxed into Leif’s warm embrace, her fingers stroking between his ears.

Amusement made her lips twitch as her wolf’s eyes widened in awe at the persistent kicks from their baby. While she was exhausted, sore, and in dire need of a nap, Brielle couldn’t help but smile at the joy on Leif’s face.

Wolf or human mattered not; his excitement was obvious.

As much as Leif insisted they were having a girl, Brielle was just as sure it was a boy.

Both their reasons for their confidence in the gender were the same.

Their baby was stubborn and strong-willed.

Astrid had given her a remedy to help with the burning in her throat that happened every time she ate now.

While Leif soothed her discomfort, he would chuckle warmly about firebirds and daughters, always making Brielle smile, no matter what her discomfort.

Brielle enjoyed the warm sun, even as the days grew longer with her changing body. The weeks sped by, but the hours dragged on.

During the day, she walked along the coast with Astrid and Liv while Leif met with Amund and hunted. With each passing day, their path grew shorter and shorter as Brielle struggled to take full breaths. Their baby now lodged comfortably in her ribs by her lungs.

There had been growing tension among the clans, pulling Leif away for longer. Astrid did her best to keep Brielle occupied, showing her the best places for berries and apples.

The only thing that made the lonely days easier was that every night, without fail, Leif returned to her. Often with fresh scars adorning his body, bleeding into the old ones. Brielle tended to his injuries while he fussed more over her, unbothered by scratches.

Instead, he made her eat until she couldn’t anymore, combing and braiding her hair while showering her belly with kisses and whispering sweet words to their child, telling them stories of gods and monsters.

A warm breath fanned over her face, pulling her back to the present.

The moon rose higher, casting the valley in a serene glow of silver.

Brielle picked flowers within reach without getting up, making a bouquet before wrapping a wayward thread around it and laying it between her and Leif.

Sometimes, she found it easier to drift off when they were like this, to let her tired eyes flutter shut.

“We haven’t picked out a name,” Brielle mused, stroking the wolf’s face with her eyes closed. “Orion or Leo could be nice,” she said, a mischievous grin growing.

A deep howl fell from him, shaking the new leaves from their trees as the warmth of the white muzzle disappeared from her stomach. Four massive paws stretched out on the tender earth, Leif standing proudly above her. Those icy eyes glazed over while soft snorts puffed out his nose.

“I know. I know. Settle, úlfr,” Brielle soothed, half laughing and not intimidated by the wolf’s hulking form.

Leif hummed a gentle growl that made her shake her head.

“A girl, yes, you are certain, I know,” she coaxed. “But we should be prepared for both outcomes. Orion or Leo, if it’s a son.” Leif dropped to his paws, snarling slightly as he returned his muzzle to Brielle’s belly protectively. “I like Astra, Idun, or Sól for a daughter.”

A long ear quirked, pointing straight toward the stars when she finished. Whenever they had spoken of names–boy or girl–he merely nodded, not offering any inkling as to what he desired. The twitched ear of his wolf had been the only sign she’d had that he was interested in a name at all.

“Which one did you like?” she smiled, rubbing his ear between her thumb and forefinger. “Astra. Our daughter would be one of the stars.”

When Leif didn’t react, she continued.

“Idun. Eternal youth and spring. Hope and renewal,” Brielle pressed on, determined to figure out which name he liked.

“Or maybe it was Sól. The sun personified. Full of warmth and power.” Still nothing from her wolf.

“You’re insufferable,” she pouted, trying to shove his heavy head aside with no luck.

“Odin, help you, Leif. You drive me mad on purpose.”

The only response to her admonishment was a low chuff from her wolf before their baby kicked, extinguishing their bickering. Instead, Brielle chased Leif’s warmth, counting the constellations and stifling a string of mounting yawns, tracing the lines of Ursa Major with her finger.