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His kiss dragged the longing from the depths of my bones and set it on fire.

The desire that had been brewing since the day we met.

Not the flame of heat and consumption, but the flame of the stars above us, the white-hot glow of life and creation.

The love that I had tempered and dampened, had begged my foolish heart not to hope for.

It raged to the surface of me with a fierce, desperate force.

I pulled back enough to speak, and whispered into the night, “I have always wanted you, Byrgir.”

He did not answer with words, just a low, deep growl as he claimed my mouth with his again.

He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close, pinning me tightly against his body.

I slipped my hands behind his neck, into his hair, pressing myself against him as if my body would sink into his.

As if the two of us combined would be enough to bear the enormity of what I felt.

As if his steadiness, his kindness, the depth of his compassion and acceptance would finally be enough to quell my raging storm.

He drew back to meet my gaze, his thumb tracing my cheek. The searching of his eyes told me he was looking for my reaction, making sure I was alright. I pulled him in to kiss me again by way of answer.

His hand wove into my hair. He laced his fingers through it, firmly, and pulled my head back. His beard scratched and tickled my throat as he kissed my jaw, then just below it, pressing his lips hungrily into the soft skin of my neck.

I had never felt wanting as completely consuming as this.

Despite the fire raging within me, the cold of the night around us was sharp.

Byrgir could feel the shivers wracking my body, and he pulled back, wrapping the blanket tightly around me.

I snuggled into him, and he stroked my hair as I rested my head on his chest, wishing I could climb inside his clothes, inside his skin with him.

“We should find somewhere warm to spend the night,” he said, his breath stirring my hair.

“I don’t want this to end,” I said. “Ever.”

“It won’t, Little Lamb,” he mumbled, his voice a deep reverberation in his chest. “But it will if I let you freeze out here. Come on.”

He ushered me through the snow to the horses as the Spirit Lights danced above us.

∞∞∞

Byrgir lifted me from my horse and kissed me long and deep when we arrived at the inn.

I felt myself begin to unravel, adding more evidence to my theory that my physical body could not, in fact, handle the rolling storm of desire rising inside me.

Parting from him was a cruelty when he stepped away and led the horses toward the stable.

“Get inside, Little Lamb, and warm up,” he said with a grin as I clung a little longer to his cloak.

The hearth roared in the empty tavern, rolling dry heat throughout the room.

The inn keeper, the same sturdy woman who had defended the inn with a battle ax during Litha, had clearly been awoken by our arrival.

I paid her for a single room, three stalls in the stable, and whatever was left of dinner.

She brought out a half of a loaf of sourdough, cheese, and hot spiced mead; she apologized that she had run out of soup.

I assured her it was quite alright, that we had no business showing up this late and demanding food.

I disregarded her repeated suspicious glances at my eyes and ears.

I was just relieved her reaction wasn’t worse.

I made my way up to our room without waiting for Byrgir.

I was freezing, starving, and too wracked with anticipation to wait idly.

The room was tiny but cozy, with a small window looking over the town to the sea, and a bed large enough for two piled with heavy blankets and thin pillows.

I remembered the first time Byrgir and I had traveled away from this village together.

What I would have done then to have this warm, dry room.

I tugged off my outer layers and grabbed the only set of somewhat decent underwear I had –– a silky bralette and panties trimmed with lace.

I silently thanked El for bringing me to that shop in Avanis, and thanked myself for packing them for this trip, although it had felt ridiculous at the time.

I had a quick bath in the shared bathroom down the hall, then pulled a clean, loose shirt over my head and snuggled under the heavy comforter.

I counted the days from my last cycle as I waited for Byrgir. Just in case.

One glass of wine and a hunk of sourdough later, Byrgir’s footsteps thudded on the floorboards of the hallway. I heard him pause before he opened the door. I took a deep, steadying breath.

The door swung open, and Byrgir smiled at me. “Look at you, Little Lamb. All cozied up in bed.” I blushed under his gaze, and his tone turned more serious. “We don’t have to share a room, you know. If you would rather not.”

“I want to.” My answer was definitive. I knew what I wanted.

He smiled and sauntered in, removing his cloak and dropping his pack. “Any left for me?” He inclined his head toward the tray of food.

I nodded. “Come sit.” I patted the bed next to me and the tray of food, then grabbed the bottle of wine and a glass off the bedside table. I poured some for him.

He tugged off his wet boots and sat next to me on the bed. My body hummed with his proximity. My chest tightened, and my stomach twisted with nervousness.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, biting into a hunk of bread.

“Alright, I think. Tired. A little overwhelmed. I don’t think it has all sunk in yet.”

“I’m sure it will take some time.” He sipped his wine. “It’s late. You need to sleep. We have a long ride tomorrow.”

“You always think I need to rest,” I countered. He was right, as usual. The spring sunrise was already beginning to brighten the sky, and I was exhausted.

“Because you always do,” he replied.

“I’m too awake for sleep now,” I argued.

He smirked mischievously. “So am I. But I also need to make sure you make it back to Rhyanaes in one piece.”

“In one piece?” I asked, feigning confusion.

He chuckled. “Of course. What do you mean?”

“What if I want you to tear me apart?” It was probably the stupidest thing I could have said, but I couldn’t take this teasing anymore.

He looked at me, and then we both burst into laughter.

“That is, without a doubt, the worst line I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” I laughed.

He leaned in toward me. His hand brushed my cheek and he stroked a strand of hair from my face as we smiled at each other, still chuckling. My blood was lightning in my veins. He looked into my eyes with an intensity I did not know if I could bear.

“I’ll excuse your terrible flirting though, because there is nothing I want more, Little Lamb,” he said, his voice barely more than a soft growl.

He leaned in and kissed me deeply, fully, and I returned it with infatuated passion.

As if we could consume each other. As if nothing else in this world existed.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close.

He climbed on top of me. He kissed me deeply, moving from my lips to my jawline, down my neck.

I slid my hands up his muscled back and shoulders, then pulled his shirt up.

He pulled back with a devilish smile and removed it.

The extent of the tattoo that covered his hands was revealed.

From his fingers, up his arms, and across his chest wound beautiful traditional knotwork decorations in the northern Seonaid style.

A vicious wyrm snaked up one arm on a backdrop of waves.

The other arm was decorated similarly, but with two fighting bears.

Two intricate, swirling wolves faced each other on his chest; one held the sun in its jaws, and the other the moon.

On the left side, the patterns climbed his neck to join the raven on the side of his head.

I had only a moment to take in the tattoos before he leaned back in and kissed my neck, one hand wandering up my shirt, caressing my bare skin with tantalizing slowness.

I pulled him into me. His touch, his kiss drove away my anger, my melancholy, the cocktail of emotions I had been swallowing since we arrived at my previous home.

I felt nothing but my ache for him, our connection in this moment.

He kissed down my neck and pulled my shirt up to reveal my stomach, then kissed the tender, sensitive skin of my midsection.

I squirmed in delight as his lips sent bolts of energy through me that were nearly painful in their intensity.

I noticed his tattoos also covered the entirety of his back, but didn’t have the chance to look closely at what they depicted.

He leaned back up to me, grabbed my jaw gently but firmly, and kissed me deeply.

“I think you should sleep, Little Lamb,” he growled against my lips.

“How could I sleep now?” I asked.

He smiled, that beautiful, charming smile, but there was something more behind it, a hunger that I could feel within myself. A devouring longing commanding to be satiated. He looked at me as if he would consume me.

But he did not act on his obvious desire.

“You’ve had a big day, and I can tell you have a lot on your mind. We need to rest,” he said. “And I don’t want to rush this. I want to take my time with you.”

I could not argue with that, although I wanted to.

He pulled off his pants and climbed into bed behind me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close to him.

I felt him hard against my bum, and snuggled back into him.

He traced his fingers gently up and down my side, my arm, over my breasts.

I wanted him so badly that every part of me ached.

But, eventually, my exhaustion drowned out my desire for him, and I drifted to sleep in his arms.

I awoke to wind shaking the window. Rain hammered the roof.

The clear night hadn’t lasted long, and another northern spring storm was making landfall from its distant ocean origins, raging and wild.

Yet I was warm and safe, wrapped entirely in Byrgir’s arms, his chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful rhythm against my back.

I could have stayed there forever. Could’ve become part of that room, that bed, part of him.

I drifted back into a blissful, warm sleep.