Page 31 of Wulver’s Flame (Knotty #2)
Liùsaidh
Isighed at the grunts and thuds of men wrestling outside.
There would be no peace to finish my work today.
I carefully gathered the parchment and tucked it into the chest beside me.
My written words may not withstand the test of time, but I wanted to leave our story behind.
The story of the wolf and the human promised every life through time.
My dagger rested in the chest, its familiar sight drawing a smile to my lips. A lifetime ago, I was a blood-hot maiden swearing vengeance on Norsemen. I still longed to skewer my husband occasionally, but my restraint was legendary. The pups would miss their father if I ever gave in.
My chest stirred, and I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out the clatter of play and battle. I could no longer imagine life without Vargr or our pups. This home we built—this den—was more than shelter. It was safety. It was ours.
Six strong pups filled our hearth with howls and laughter. Vargr and Skoll had never strayed far from their sides. There was no truer guardian than Skoll, no gentler hand than Vargr’s for those born of his seed. They were fierce, yes—but their hearts beat only for our kin.
úlfa stirred within me—my silver-furred shadow. She had given me strength, warmth, and a body that bore each season like spring, renewing me. I would never forget our first run with Skoll. He, too, had been reborn. No longer the savage beast cast out from his kind. He had love and purpose.
From beyond the door came the familiar clash of voices—Brynhild’s sharp tongue and Bjorn’s booming laugh. She was no longer a thrall, but a wife. A loud one. That missing tooth never dulled Bjorn’s smile, nor did it stop him from playing the fool with our children.
I placed a hand on my belly, full again.
Our seventh stirred within me, still three moons from the birthing.
My heat had slowed, the seasons creeping toward autumn within my bones.
I wondered how many more would come. If Skoll had his wish, I would be chained to the bedding, round with pups until the end of days.
úlfa huffed in amusement, warming the space behind my ribs.
“Yes, yes—I know. He listens to you more than me,” I whispered, pressing my palm to my chest.
The door creaked open. Vargr stepped inside, eyes falling to my table.
“You are not writing?” he asked.
“With that racket outside?” I replied, reaching for the babe in his arms.
Sorcha wriggled against me, and Skoll grumbled his usual protest, silenced only when I bared my breast for her to feed. My daughter latched on like a hungry cub, her red curls gleaming like fire in the sun. Vargr adored her. Skoll was near worshipful.
“My little flame,” I murmured, smoothing her hair.
“She has your snarl,” Vargr said, unwrapping the wool from my shoulders to loosen the nursing dress.
“She gets it from her father,” I muttered.
“She gets the teeth from you.”
“And soon she will have a dagger.” I laughed and lay back on the bedding as Sorcha suckled.
Vargr sat beside me, his palm resting on my thigh.
“We will need another chamber before winter,” he said. “If we are to have ten pups.”
“Ten?” I scoffed.
“My cock thinks three more is not so many.”
I rolled my eyes, but warmth bloomed in my belly—not from the child, but from the life we had made, the love we had built, and the bond that had only grown stronger with each pup born.
“Taran is with Sigurd?”
Vargr nodded. “Yes. Learning how to take a blade to wood—and men.”
I smiled. “He’s still my pup.”
“And mine. We’ll not send him away to be raised under another’s roof. Our pack stays here. Together.”
I kissed the crown of Sorcha’s head and whispered to the little one at my breast.
“My fire. My girl. We will never be parted. Not in this life nor the next.”
Vargr kissed Sorcha’s cheek, then pressed his lips to the side of my neck—right over the mark he gave me.
“Never did I imagine such a life could exist,” he murmured, his beard warm against my skin.
I closed my eyes, feeling the pulse of the bond between us.
“We will find one another in every life,” I whispered.
The wolf and his flame.
The End.