Page 67 of Wulver's Flame

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 Sköll 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. Sköll 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.