Page 19 of Wulver’s Flame (Knotty #2)
Liùsaidh
My aching body was a testimony to the beast's handiwork. The bruises, scratches and the scar on my neck. His curse lived inside me, in my chest and my womanhood. I shivered, recalling the giant beast that emerged. The beast’s size was unnatural, and the golden eyes that glowed through his dark fur were terrifying.
When he stood over me, I was sure that my life would end.
This was why his father exiled him. For the beast to destroy my people. Vargr’s tongue was full of lies. I thought of Dunraith. They wouldn't stand a chance against his men and the beast. The howls at night-watching made me pray fervently, asking the Gods to protect us.
My chest ached inside—the living thing inside me. At first, I thought it was my own pain. A deep ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I curled up tighter under the furs, pressing my hands to my belly, trying to quiet it. But it didn’t fade.
It got worse.
Like something was breaking inside me. Not with a crack, but with a slow, steady pull. Like being stretched too far. I bit my lip. Tried not to cry. Told myself it was nothing. That it would pass, but it didn’t feel like mine.
It was heavy, sad and lonely.
I didn’t understand it—not at first.
Was it his pain I was feeling?
Or the wolf’s?
The ache filled my chest, and for a moment, I hated them both for putting this inside me and for tying me to something so big that it hurt to feel it.
I turned over and buried my face in the furs.
“Stop,” I whispered. “Please stop.”
It stayed until I forced it out. Until I shoved it down like I had done with every hard thing before. I wrestled the pain into a corner and locked it there.
Only then did the restless sleep come.
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?
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It was in the light of the following morning sun when memories tumbled back—the mating. I would never have begged, never have bared myself like that—if not for his cursed bond. But my insides ached, and it wasn't from the harsh mating.
The door opened, and Vargr walked in. Silent and cold.
He dropped my bags on the bed, without a word or a look before he left.
I touched my chest, but there was only a feeling of numbness. I shook it off. He wasn't a man. I knew what lay beneath his surface.
The beast.
The thing that howled and clawed and came apart in front of me. That’s what I’d bitten. That’s what I’d let inside.
Not a man. Not my husband.
A monster in flesh.
I touched my belly, closing my eyes.
Shame and disgust curdled in my belly as I remembered his seed. There had been torrents of it. The thought of carrying a cursed child made my stomach twist—one more beast born to turn on my people.
Hot, bitter tears began to trickle down my cheeks.
What in the Gods name had my father done?
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?
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The days were slow, but without a chain around my neck, I began to explore the longhouse and help in the daily chores. It was better than torturing myself for something I could not change. Vargr remained cold and kept his distance.
Brynhild was the master cook in the house, and the storage room was a treasure trove.
I couldn't deny that their storage chests and barrels were far superior to ours.
I found the source of the honey, which was used to sweeten the food and make the mead.
Brynhild raised an eyebrow when she caught my finger in the container.
“It is good that you are the husfreyja of the house. There is severe punishment for touching the honey,” she said with a cheeky smile.
Lady of the house.
A memory flooded through me.
Please come into my nest, husbondi.
He’d called me his she-wolf. His voice—rough, growling, reverent—echoed through my mind like kitchen smoke curling through the rafters. The hairs at the back of my neck rose.
Was the wolf in my chest? Or had he simply cursed me with his own?
He spoke of a bond before he mated me—something sacred. But the words slipped through my grasp like steam.
Neither of us spoke now.
Only silence.
Anger, fear, resentment, numbness—layered thick in my chest.
I couldn’t tell which feelings were mine anymore. Or which were his.
He never stepped into the bedchamber when I was awake, but I knew he still came to sleep.
I could smell him in the linens. And when he was gone, I pressed my face to his pillow, stealing his scent like a shameful thief.
It made no sense, but it gave me comfort.
A terrible, uninvited comfort I never asked for, but still craved.
“I was jesting, mistress. I meant no offence,” Brynhild said with a worried frown.
“No. I just remembered something,” I said with a forced smile.
Relief cleared her face, and I wondered how Vargr treated his servants.
I was stealing her recipe for the sweet mead bread—I mean, helping her in the kitchen when Vargr came in. Tall, golden and cursed. He stared at my dough-filled hands before walking out again.
“Don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite,” Brynhild said, nudging my shoulder.
A hysterical laugh built up in me at her words, but I had nothing to laugh about, and Brynhild had no idea how close to the truth she was.
I had to escape the man and his wolf. Maybe if I crossed to the mainland and made it to one of my sisters’ homes, I could break the curse. Put distance between myself and the bond. Silence his voice in my chest.
Perhaps then I’d be free.
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?
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I was tempted to slip out of bed when his breathing became heavy and rhythmic.
Fear stopped me. One bite from the beast or even a claw, and I would be doomed.
My daggers were locked in his chest. I waited a little longer, pausing to inhale the smoky-sweet scent before carefully slipping out of the bed.
My bag was hidden away outside so my movements would not alert anyone. Little by little, I crept to the door, prying it open wide enough to slip through. My heart pounded as I worked my way out of the house.
The servants had their own home attached to the back of the house. I winced thinking about my family and the treaty, but my Da had thrown me to a beast, not a man.
The moon was high, and the nearby woods were dark, but my resolve was strong. I took a deep breath and retrieved my bag, slipping it across my body before running as fast as possible. It was a good idea to go to bed with my boots on.