Page 13 of Wulver’s Flame (Knotty #2)

Liùsaidh

The cramps eased off. I was sure he had poisoned me. A poison from his land that I couldn't identify. One so powerful it was killing me from the inside out. He was full of lies and wanted me to submit to him. To be his thrall.

I glanced at the beast, but he stood mumbling to himself. He looked to the rafters, and I followed his gaze. There was nothing there. Only shadows.

His head snapped around, and I clutched the pelts. Icy fear shot down my spine.

His eyes—they glowed. Not golden, but glowed like molten lava.

Old.

No, ancient.

“Build your nest.”

The words hit like thunder, crashing through my skull.

His command was unmistakable.

I crawled to the clothes, unable to resist.

“I am your Alpha. I live to protect you, Liùsaidh. We are bound by blood, fire and fate,” he said with a low rumble from his chest. “Blessed by Fenrir.”

The wolf god?

My hands kept weaving the nest, but my thoughts spun like leaves in a storm. The scent that plagued me made me pause and press his tunic to my face.

My mouth watered, and my insides quivered.

Not in pain, but need.

A throb low in my belly, deep and aching.

I didn’t think.

I bent down and buried my face in the bundle of his clothes. The scent of the wild. The beast. Of him.

Wood. Pine. Smoke.

I throbbed until my thighs were drenched.

Honey cake.

I was engulfed in bliss.

“You will invite me into your nest and I will take away your pain.”

His voice yanked me out of my drunken state.

I inhaled one last time as my insides clenched, and a gush of liquid oozed out of me. I sat up in a daze and weaved the clothes faster.

My mind was broken, but I was too tired to fight it.

I needed him.

Only he could take my ache away.

?

?

?

My eyes locked onto the glowing ones. I slipped off the bed, tugged my dress over my head, and dropped to my knees.

Crawled to him.

Something tugged at the back of my mind, but I pushed it away.

His eyes glowed brighter.

Swirls. Runes.

Dark markings curled over his arms and stomach.

My jaw clenched as his shaft twitched and dripped for me, hot fluid splashing onto the floorboards.

I rubbed my slippery thighs together.

His scent was thick and concentrated. The thought of that precious liquid going to waste made my mouth water.

I licked my lips and placed my hands on his thighs, leaning forward, mouth open to taste—

He pulled it away.

Left me eye-level with the swollen, dark base.

His knot.

“Invite me into your nest,” he said, voice like thunder. “And then you can have a taste.”

I pouted, but his face was stone. Unyielding.

I stroked his thighs, pressing my breasts together as I leaned in.

“Please come into my nest, husbondi,” I purred.

Yes, he was the man of the house. He was all man where it counted.

He bent down and lifted me like I weighed nothing.

“úlfa mín,” he snarled into the crook of my neck.

My she-wolf.

I clung to his chest, arching, my nipples brushing his bare skin, offering myself to the one thing that could end the ache.

He laid me beside the nest. I tried to cling to him, but he pushed me down.

“Get in, my sweet,” he growled.

His chest rumbled, and the growl continued.

Skoll.

“I want you both,” I whimpered, edging back into my nest.

“First, you will taste what will ruin you for any other mortal or wolf,” he snarled, gripping his staff.

My mouth watered as he tilted it towards my face.

It was smooth, soft, yet hard. I licked it, and his essence burst into a sweet nectar—far superior to honey.

“That’s my good úlfa. Taste it. Suck it. Take from me.”

I pushed down, my lips slid down, and I swirled my tongue around the nectar. Licking, sucking, poking at the hole, desperate for more.

Skoll continued to growl, but the sound only added to the mess between my legs.

“My greedy úlfa. Do you want more?”

With his staff in my mouth, I nodded.

He took my head between his hands. His staff hit the back of my throat.

I moaned when another spurt of nectar flooded me.

He pulled back, and panic gripped me. I clawed at his thighs in desperation.

But I needn’t have feared. He slammed back in, lodging deep in my throat, flooding me again with that sweet, ruinous nectar.

“This is what it means to be mine,” he snarled.

Before I could adjust, he began to swing his hips back and forth. With each stroke, he managed to go into my throat until I gagged and choked. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I kept my jaw wide open for the continuous taste of his nectar.

“By Fenrir’s teeth. You're almost there,” he groaned.

I didn't know what he meant until his swollen knot slapped my lips and face. I squeezed my tongue out and licked it. He rewarded me with another swift, deep thrust.

Another low groan mixed with a growl.

“Time to breed you úlfa mìn.”

My stomach clenched, and I widened my knees on the bed.

Unconsciously, I spread myself for him.

He needed to take the pain away—the constant thrum of the ache.