Page 9 of Heart of the Wolf

The initial instinct to fight faded as quickly as it came. His grip was more a tender embrace than a threat. The gesture comforted her, soothing the frantic thrum in her body. It probably shouldn’t have. She was acutely aware of how fragile her slender throat was in his massive palm.

It devoured her.

He could snap it and snuff the lights from her eyes in a single squeeze.

The pad of his thumb stroked her pulse point fondly, making her chest loosen.

A rush of something flooded between her legs, making Brielle shift before she rested a hand along his, anchoring him to the spot.

She wasn’t ready to suffer the loss of his touch, mewling a contented sound and letting herself drift.

“Will you tell me of it?” she asked, tracing a jagged scar on his knuckles.

A throaty sound rumbled in his chest, shaking her spine.

“Odin appeared to me when my father was soon destined for Valhalla. I was to be his chosen,” Leif mused, fingers flexing on the thin skin there.

“Chosen for what?” Brielle asked, tilting her head back until it hit a solid wall of muscle.

She craved to drown in his gaze. To examine the eyes that reminded her of the ice-glazed riverbeds in winter.

His hand drifted higher, cupping her jaw and holding her in place.

Braids framed his porcelain face as a bright smile welcomed her when their gazes locked. She fought the desire to run her fingers through the scruff of his well-kept beard.

To pull him closer.

To be consumed by him.

However, her sinful thoughts had already destined her for Hell; she shouldn’t speed up the descent.

“To challenge Fenrir at Ragnarok. A battle to determine the fate of the worlds,” he added, seeing her confusion.

The gravity of his explanation hung heavy in the air.

Brielle closed her eyes, focusing on the path his thumb took, tracing the hinge of her jaw.

Neither spoke for a long time, her half-braided hair forgotten.

She knew little of their beliefs, but for one man alone to shoulder that load seemed unfair.

For a long moment, she searched his face, finding nothing in the recesses of his eyes.

“A gift, but it also sounds like a burden. That is a lot of weight to put on one person,” she mused, her brows pinching toward the bridge of her nose.

“It is my duty and my honor,” he said, his shoulders sagging as he released a breath. “I am the Konungr. With duty comes burden. You are right. They are intertwined. But no one can escape fate, Brielle. It is written in the stars.”

Humming, she remained silent, deciding not to push him. He hid his emotions behind carefully constructed walls, and his defenses cracked slightly for her.

She didn’t want to crumble them just yet. They needed to get to that point, but someday, he would tell her everything. She wanted to be the person he confided in.

Not just wanted, but needed. They were bound together as sure as duty and honor. It was a certainty that she carried in her soul from the first time their eyes met.

Silky lips brushed against her forehead in the shadow of a kiss before he gently tilted her head forward again, working on the second braid.

Skilled warriors feasted in Valhalla when they moved on, according to the old woman back home who taught Brielle how to heal.

While she had heard of Fenrir and Ragnarok before, she knew little of them, nor could she place them. She had many questions, and she believed Leif would happily answer them all.

“When will Ragnarok happen, and who is Fenrir?”

“Fenrir is the child of Loki, a trickster god who meddles in all things to cause chaos,” he added at her arched brow. “Never trust Loki. He only brings pain.”

Brielle nodded.

“Fenrir is a monstrous wolf, capable of annihilation. Odin and the other gods bound him. There is a prophecy that Fenrir will break from his chains during Ragnarok, wreaking havoc before killing Odin. To prevent this, Odin gifted me my wolf, evening the field between us and Fenrir.”

So… her Dane may have been destined to die after all. She wrung her fingers in her lap, blinking away a tear, grieving for something that she didn’t have and hadn’t happened.

“And when?” she asked, so quiet she wasn’t sure if he heard her.

“We do not know,” Leif murmured. “Could be one year or one hundred years from now. Old age could claim me before any of it comes to pass.”

Death came for everyone.

It was as inevitable as breathing. So why did the uncertainty rock her to her core? She had never been afraid of death. Maybe it was because there had never been someone she cared about enough to fear losing.

Her mother died when Brielle was still too young to fully grasp the finality of it all.

For months, she asked her father when momma was coming home, only to be met with crushing hopelessness when she never returned.

Sensing her tension, Leif spoke again, his words low and unshakeable.

“All we can do is live each day like it’s our last, knowing that in the afterlife, we will rejoice with the ones who mean the most to us.”

A universal belief that was shared between them. One that, in the end, they would be reunited with their loved ones.

He secured the second braid at the bottom to the first until they framed her head like a crown of curls. He passed a polished metal shield to her so she could see his work.

Gold twinkled in her brown eyes, a broad smile pinching her cheeks. Her lips parted in shock as her fingers ghosted the braids, turning to see them in all their beauty. She never knew her hair could look that pretty.

“Thank you,” she said, putting the shield down as her voice wobbled.

“Beautiful. Wild girl,” he said warmly, making her shudder with the compliment.

Even though he finished with her hair, his hands still didn’t leave her, resting on her shoulders.

If he held her forever, it still wouldn’t be long enough. Her hands rose to cover his. At her touch, he moved closer until his chest pressed against her back. The echo of his heart beat in tandem with hers.

Everything she’d ever believed tilted on its head, something surreal tethering them together.

It was the things of fairy tales—the stories of magic, gods, and happily ever afters.

Except those didn’t exist, and only a fool would believe in them.

And she wasn’t a fool.

“Why did you save me? Why am I here?”

Of all the questions to tumble out, she wished it wasn’t that one.

An emptiness carved a spot into the place where her heart was when all sense of him faded. His chest left her back, soon followed by the caress of his hands on her clavicle.

The icy feeling of being alone choked her despite the smoldering flames of the fire that danced nearby.

After what felt like an eternity, Leif’s broad figure swam before her, the shadow of the fire casting him in a midnight glow. Tension ticked in the set of his jaw, tiny creases framing the corners of his tender eyes. Brielle craned her neck to look upon him properly, an unsureness gripping her.

Whatever fantasy she created in her mind was just that, a dark fairy tale that hurtled toward a devastating ending faster than she wished.

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She never would be.

Leif sank to his knees, his palms caressing her thighs. Shaking, she met his breathtaking gaze. The silver in his eyes called to the gold in hers and sang to something profound in her soul.

Something known.

Strong hands ghosted a tender trail up her curves until they reached her face.

Well-worn fingers stroked her cheeks. His mouth relaxed and inviting, his eyes sparkling with an emotion she had never seen before.

“You are mine, hjartae mitt,” he said, his timbre thicker than honey. “Freyja sent me. Guided my feet back to the other half of my soul.”

Brielle choked on a stuttered breath, trembling on the bench.

“I could not leave you. Never leave you. My soul is bound to yours. There is forever in your eyes.”