Page 6 of Wulver's Flame

“By Odin’s sword and the blood of my line,

I bind myself to this woman.

I offer her my strength, my shield, and my name.

She will walk under my protection—

beside me in battle, and beneath me in bed.

May the gods strike me down if I falter in this oath.”

A cheer erupted from my men. Then silence fell, thick and waiting.

Her bound arm trembled.

Liùsaidh lifted her chin, jaw tight enough to crack stone. Her voice didn’t rise—it cut.

“By the stones of my land and the blood of my kin,

I vow to honour this handfasting in name alone.

I give what I must for the safety of Dunraith.

Let no God mistake this for love.”

A stunned murmur rippled through the crowd, but she kept her gaze fixed past my shoulder, as if I were beneath her notice.

Sköll growled beneath my skin, furious.

I smiled.

I picked up the blade and dragged it across my palm. Blood dripped down the stone. When I passed the knife to my fire-fuelled bride, my cock twitched at the sight of her slicing her skin without flinching. Her blood spilled with mine.

My knot throbbed. The swelling had begun.

The sword exchange followed, but by then, I couldn’t tear my eyes off her.

I owned her fire.

Her heat.

Her blood.

She was ours.

Our mate.

???

We waited as her kin gathered to say their farewells.

Her father pulled her into a final embrace, muttering hushed words against her hair, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t lift her arms. Didn’t blink.

She stood limp and stoic, carved from stone.

Until her young brother ran into her arms.

Then she broke.