Page 5 of Wulver’s Flame (Knotty #2)

Liùsaidh

He pulled something heavy out of the wooden chest. It rattled. Perhaps a weapon for retaliation. I sat up, ready to stand and fight with my bare hands.

In the name of Taranis, the God of Thunder, strike this evil beast down.

The swine held chains in his hands.

“A gift for my bride,” he said with a cold smile.

I stared at him. Properly. His blue eyes were icier than the winter sea. Wicked. Evil. His dark hair was braided as was his beard, but I could see the wheat colour through it. The colours of my enemy.

Reality seeped into me. Without my dagger, I was helpless against his bulky body. He was larger than my da.

“O-nei,” I whispered in the enemy tongue.

“Já, he murmured.

I blinked.

He leapt for me.

I screamed, struggling to get him off me, but he sat on my chest.

Snap.

He locked the cold iron collar around my neck. I shook my head, but he let his weight crush my chest until he locked the collar around me. I gasped for breath, trying to scratch any part of him that I could reach, but it was futile.

When he stood up, my insides ached for air. I took deep breaths. He looped the chain around the thick wooden beam above the bed while I stared at the horror unfolding before me. His mind was addled.

What kind of monster would do this to a woman?

He stepped off the bed and picked up my bags, rifling through them. I winced, knowing he would find a number of plants and herbs to kill him. He unravelled the woollen cloak to remove my other dagger.

How could I slit his throat without my dagger?

I glanced around the room, but there were no weapons. I edged off the bed, but the chains clinked together and his head snapped over his shoulder.

“Oh, I wouldn't move, minn drengr,” he said with a flash of teeth. My warrior.

I swallowed and remained still, watching him toss my carefully prepared plants into the fire. He placed my dagger into the chest and slammed it shut.

When he turned to face me, he had a small blade in his hand.

“I traded a great deal to acquire you in peace. Do you want me to void the contract?” he said, stalking across the room.

I shook my head.

But only after a long moment. Long enough for the blade to tap against his palm. Long enough for me to wonder if voiding the contract meant my body on the floor.

“You're mine now, Liùsaidh. It’s time to show you what that means,” he murmured, placing the blade against my neck.

I moved back, but he continued to press forward until I lay on my back. The cold blade ran down my throat, and he pulled my neckline up before piercing the dress.

The linen was destroyed within the blink of an eye. He threw the knife on the wooden chest and ripped my dress down the middle. He tugged my arms out of it and tossed it to the floor, leaving me naked.

“Such a pretty pink,” he said, touching my hot cheek. “Your neck and chest are glowing as brightly as your face. Or should I say as red as your hair?”

He stood up and tore off his tunic, ripping it over his head. The laces and pants followed. We painted our bodies, but his markings were unusual. My eyes dropped to his manhood. The markings were forgotten. Beneath wasn't a sack but a red-purple angry globe of some kind.

This was no man’s body.

By the Gods, this was unnatural.

“You’re touched by a beast,” I cried, scrambling up the bed and yanking a thick pelt over my bare skin.

“A wolf,” he said, full of pride.

He turned, and I saw it.

A great wolf’s face was marked into his back, runes snarling around it like fangs. His markings were nothing like ours.

The red, swollen mass between his legs.

It wasn’t a man’s body. My dogs at home were like him.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered. Then louder, more desperate.

“By Morrígan—cloak me in your shadows. Save me!”

I shrieked, burying myself beneath the pelt. I waited.

Surely the Gods would strike him down.

Nothing happened.

I lowered the pelt to my nose. He had his back to me, calm as ever, tending the fire.

A fire. In this mild season. Such a wasteful act.

I blinked.

What was I thinking?

I was a beast’s bride. He would tear me open with the length of his staff alone.

My first time, and I was chained to a beast.

The bed dipped, and I screamed, clawing my way off the bed, tumbling to the floor. He blew out the oil lamp.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness. The faint light from the embers glowed.

“I won’t lie with you,” I whispered bravely.

“I hope you have a comfortable night-watching down there.”

The shameless beast.

I sat on the floor, touching the collar around my neck before wrapping the pelt around me. I’d rather sleep on the floor than lie beside a beast.

A Norse beast.

Were the Gods mocking me?

I gripped the collar with cold fingers. It didn’t budge. Just a ring of iron and humiliation. A symbol of my father’s betrayal. Of the brute I now shared a roof with.

I curled tighter in the pelt, willing sleep to claim me, but the furs smelled of him. Smoke and sweat and something wilder. My belly clenched. Not from hunger, but dread.

I clenched my jaw and refused to cry.

Let the dog rot.

I would survive this even if the Gods had turned their backs on me.