Page 41 of Heart of the Wolf

Chapter twenty-one

Brielle

Sleepily, Brielle rolled her head into the hard planes of Leif’s chest. She ran her fingers over the exposed scars on his arms, allowing the gentle sway of him carrying her to ease her stiff muscles. Cracked lips and scruff brushed her temple, Leif kissing her and muttering quiet words in Norse.

“Sól mín.” My sun.

“Pú ert orugg mee mér.” You are safe with me.

“Allt mun verea vel.” All will be well.

Once they stepped outside, the bright sun assaulted her eyes, renewing the pounding in her head. Brielle groaned, turning her face into Leif before rolling back to see Amund and Astrid waiting for them.

Of course, he didn’t leave. He wouldn’t. Not without Leif and Brielle with them.

“úlfr,” he grunted, the veins in his arm flexing.

Though her vision was blurry and still adjusting to the light, Brielle followed the strained muscles of Amund’s arm. His fingers were nestled in a mop of mousey brown hair, caked with dirt.

On her knees, Vala sobbed, her nails scratching uselessly at Amund’s unrelenting grip.

Silver from the head of his axe gleamed in the sunlight, the blade resting threateningly against Vala’s slender neck. Others in the village paid the crying girl little mind, dipping their heads at Leif before shuffling into their homes.

“I told you to leave,” Leif said, looking from the thrashing girl back to Amund.

“I left the building,” he smirked. Astrid stayed tucked into Amund’s side, avoiding looking at Vala. “This one,” Amund hissed, tugging on Vala’s hair. “Helped Herja. On your word, Konungr.”

Amund tightened his grip on her hair, pressing the blade further into Vala’s throat.

Before Leif spoke, she reached up, resting her palm on his cheek. A callused hand covered her own, stilling the slight tremor in Brielle’s fingers.

“No. Please. Leave her.”

“Hjartae mitt,” Leif said, shaking his head. “She stole my kona and a jarl’s wife; she cannot be allowed to live.”

“What choice did she have?” Brielle croaked, her voice still raw. “She’s just a girl, Leif.”

“Brielle,” he whispered for only her to hear. “She will be killed. If not by us, someone in the village will once we leave. Herja turned on their Konungr and turned on their people. They will want to rid themselves of that stain. If Amund does it, it will be a kindness.”

Brielle scraped through Leif’s beard, taking comfort in how the coarse hair ran along her fingertips. Vala’s blue eyes glistened with tears, shining like stormy ocean waters. The poor girl was too skinny. Her cheekbones jutted out from her gaunt face. She looked as tired as Brielle felt.

Despite how broken she was, Brielle had seen it in her eyes. The moment her resolve clicked into place. Vala had intended to free Astrid and Brielle. It was only when Herja arrived that she crumbled.

Brielle hadn’t lied to Vala.

She had said she could help, and she would.

“Take her with us.”

“You want a thrall?” Leif arched a brow, reaffirming his grip on Brielle, clearly confused by her request.

“No. Not a thrall. She could live in the village as one of us.”

Amund snorted a laugh that he pinched off when Leif glared at him. Astrid’s distant gaze twinkled, a smile spreading across her face as she threaded her arm through Amund’s.

“She would be most welcome,” Astrid said, fluttering her lashes.

The hard lines etched into Leif’s brow faded as an exasperated sigh passed his lips. Soon, he relented, his eyes closing before opening again. He buried his nose into the crook of Brielle’s neck, dragging it up the hinge of her jaw before kissing the corner of her mouth.

“You’re too good for this world.” Brielle flashed him a tired smile when he grunted before facing Amund. “Restrain the thrall and bring her with us,” he commanded dismissively.

Chuckling, Amund stowed his axe, pulling Vala to her feet. A sad smile cracked Vala’s tired features as she dipped her chin in Brielle’s direction. It looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. Amund tied her wrists together behind her back with a strip of leather.

“Her name is Vala,” Brielle said, a tiny V forming between her brows. “Not thrall.”

“Firebird,” Amund snorted, pushing Vala to walk in front of him and Astrid.

“Yes. Vala,” Leif echoed, rubbing new age lines from his face. “Relax, now. She is under my protection.”

Brielle nodded, lulled into sleep by the movements.

***

Cool water crested her lips while fluffy furs cradled her.

Brielle let out a quiet groan, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

A low rumble purred nearby, almost coaxing her awake.

With her eyes still closed, she pushed her fingers out, spreading them wide until they collided with supple leather and metal.

“Drink, hjartae mitt,” Leif urged, tipping a skin of water to her dry lips. “I know you’re tired. But we’re home now.”

Obediently, Brielle opened her mouth, moaning a contented hum when the water hit the back of her throat. She drank two full skins before shaking her head, too full to drink anymore. Leif passed her tiny pieces of fruit, only satisfied once the plate was empty.

“Where is Vala?” Brielle asked as Leif stood from their bed.

“Liv took her. She is in her home for now.”

“For now?” Brielle arched a brow, hissing at the renewed sting in her arm.

“Still your fire. I made a promise,” Leif said, shaking his head. “She is free to live here or leave. The choice is hers. Liv has offered the girl a room in her home if she decides to stay.”

Everything settled for the first time in hours, and Brielle sucked in a deep breath, groaning at how her chest expanded. Leif crouched, carefully assessing the cut on her cheek along with the gashes on her arm. The pad of his thumb hovered over the wound, not touching but tracing the marks.

“How do I fix it?” he asked, gingerly cradling her wrist.

Dried blood mixed with specks of dirt. The searing in her scalp subsided with the food and water, but the dull throb in her arm persisted. She would have forgotten about the cut on her face if Leif hadn’t reached for it. Grief and sadness shimmered in his solemn gaze.

Leif rarely showed such emotions.

Even with her.

But now that they were alone, he either didn’t want to or couldn’t hide his pain anymore.

While she could take care of it herself, she saw it in his troubled gaze. Leif needed to do it. The act would help to absolve some of the sorrow lining his mouth at his perceived failures.

“A bowl of fresh water, a clean tunic, and my salve on the shelf by the basin.”

Grimacing, Brielle used her uninjured arm to push herself further onto the bed, resting her back against the wall.

A quick breath strained her chest as she ran her hand over her stomach, smiling when two small kicks greeted her.

Slow footsteps thudded nearer, Leif placing a bowl of water, the salve, and tunics on a chest beside them.

The bed dipped under Leif’s weight as he positioned himself beside her, laying her bloodied arm over his lap.

Teeth tore strips from the tunic, and water dripped from the fabric as Leif delicately cleaned the cut.

The silk skimmed against her raised skin, and Leif took great care with each pass not to put undue pressure on her arm.

He paused, rotating her wrist to inspect it again.

Satisfied that it was clean enough, he dipped two fingers into the salve.

“Massage it into each cut,” she directed.

Two thick fingers worked the paste into her arm. A hiss of pain seethed through her teeth as her jaw clenched. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking pained and pausing his movements.

“Don’t be. It’s supposed to sting. It means it’s working,” she huffed in a watery chuckle.

While massaging in the salve, he peppered slow kisses over her face, murmuring words of adoration in her ear to encourage her. Again, he ripped more pieces from the tunic, wrapping it around the wound before securing it with a strip of leather over her arm.

“Will that be enough for it to heal?” he asked, his thumb feathering over her wrist.

“It will fade,” She ran a finger over the scar on his face. “But no, it won’t ever go away.”

“I am so sorry, hjartae mitt. Sorry, I wasn’t home to protect you. Sorry, you were harmed because of me.” He bracketed her face in his hands, his thumbs running repeatedly over the freckles on her cheeks. “What can I do?”

“Lay with me?”

Without another word, Leif slipped his feet beneath the furs.

Large hands splayed along her ribs, positioning her until Brielle’s face rested above his heart.

It was a little faster than usual, adrenaline still spiking in his chest. With one hand, he ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back reverently while his lips rested on her forehead.

With the other, he rubbed her belly, and Runa settled by their feet, purring quietly.

“For a moment,” Brielle said, “I thought I might be destined for Helheim.”

She sucked in her bottom lip, choking back the surge of emotions, engulfing her so rapidly she could barely contain them.

The weight of the day hit her all at once, and Brielle couldn’t squash down her fear any longer.

There had been many moments when she thought Herja would send her and their baby to the afterlife.

Alone and without the man she loved.

A hum rumbled low in Leif’s chest, sending a soothing vibration to her fingertips. He was steady beneath her, his heart thumping rhythmically, bringing her erratic one in time with his.

“No, Brielle. Helheim is for the sick and old when they pass on. You, my little firebird, are a warrior and, as such, are destined for Valhalla.” A watery chuckle cracked her lips as she pressed a shaky kiss to the fresh scar near his heart.

“However, I doubt either of us will spend much time there whenever that day comes.”

If not Helheim. If not Valhalla. What afterlife did Leif envision for them?

She blinked once and then a second time, struggling to decipher the meaning behind his words. Pressing her palms into the furs, Brielle hoisted herself until her chestnut eyes met his gray ones. He smiled, his fingers tracing the coils of her braids. A quiet, rolling laugh shook his muscled frame.

“Why do you laugh at me?” she asked, lines appearing between her pinched brows.

Leif pulled her face to his, cradling her cheeks and kissing her forehead. “Let me tell you a story that all the children in our village are told.”

“Leif, I’m not swayed by fairy tales.”

“I’m telling our daughter, you can listen too if you wish,” he smirked.

Brielle rolled her eyes.

“Helgi,” he began, puffing out his chest like one would when telling a tale to a child.

“Was a great warrior. He fell in love with Sigrun, a powerful woman who led a group of Valkyries. They marry and have many sons. But Sigrun was promised to another, and her father and brothers wished vengeance. Helgi charged into battle, slaying anyone who threatened their happiness.”

Leif winked, making Brielle laugh.

“Helgi spared Sigrun’s youngest brother, Dag, when he swore fealty.

” A long silence stretched out, and Brielle waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“Dag betrayed them, killing Helgi with a spear from Odin. Helgi waited in Valhalla, and once Sigrun joined him, they were reborn as Helgi and Kara, a strong Valkyrie. And in this new life, they found each other again, their love guiding their steps. It is said that in every life, they find each other.”

By the end of the story, a stream of tears flowed down her crimson-stained cheeks. About halfway through, she had connected the tale to the one her mother so often told her. At the core, they were the same. Two souls bound for one another in every lifetime.

Granted, this version was slightly different from the one from her childhood. Her mother trimmed some of the harsher parts involving the betrayal and murder whenever she told Brielle the story before bed. That had almost been them today, their kin threatening to tear them apart.

From under red-rimmed, puffy eyes, she glanced at Leif.

“úlfr, why?” she sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That was sad. What does that have to do with us and whatever comes after?”

“Is it sad?” he asked, flicking a tear from her cheek.

“Their love was so strong that it transcended a single lifetime. Their souls were destined always to find each other. Remember, hjartae mitt.” He laced their fingers together, bringing their joined hands to his heart.

“Remember that Freyja guided us, that our souls knew each other before we did.”

A gradual understanding settled in her bones, mirrored by the hesitant parting of her lips.

“You think we are Helgi and Sigrun? Reborn in this lifetime.”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, making her scowl. “That is a story made up for children.”

Brielle leveled a stern glare at him, frustrated by his roundabout storytelling. Leif took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, feathering the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

“But that does not mean we cannot be Leif and Brielle, destined to find each other in every life. In every universe.”

A swell of something she couldn’t place tightened in her chest.

“You are strong, a warrior like Sigrun. You may not wield a blade, but your will is stronger than steel. The mightiest of blades that make mountains bend. We may face trials, but our souls will always find each other. You have nothing to fear. For there is no place you could go that I wouldn’t follow. ”

She sealed her lips to his in a slow, savoring kiss. Too exhausted to pull away, her mouth lingered against his, allowing his words to fill every fractured part of her soul.

The burden, the fear, the grief for what could have happened dulled, replaced with warmth and an unwavering certainty that no matter what, they would never be alone. She burrowed back into his chest, reveling in the heat that radiated from him.

Her wolf was a man of few words, but the ones he did speak echoed deeply. Profoundly.

“My wolf,” she said, pressing her lips to his.

“Hjartae mitt,” he said, sliding a hand up her thigh, rucking her shift around her hips. “Let me remind you. How much I love you. So, you never forget.”

He sat between her legs, filling her in one, deep stroke, telling her how much he loved her until she came, clenched around his cock.