Page 88 of A Darkness So Sweet

RAGNAR

They stayed in the illuminated glen for hours on end. Partially because Ragnar thought she needed the time to recuperate, and partly because he wasn’t done with her yet. While he needed time to recover, she did not. And he was all too obliged to help her forget what had happened.

For hours, he learned every bit of her body. He found the spots that made her jerk away from him with a laugh—the hollow of her spine and the back of her neck. He found the spots that made her moan and shudder—the small of her back and the valley between her breasts. He discovered everything he could do to make her so wet she was dripping down his hand, and then some. There was more he wanted to do.

But eventually, she could barely even talk. The poor thing was limp and pliable as he arranged her in his arms. He’d drawn her into a hot spring, taking care with her sensitive skin even as she laid her head against his shoulder.

“Look at the mess I’ve made of you,” he murmured, drawing her back to his chest so he could play his fingers over her breasts. “You look so perfect like this.”

“Ragnar,” she whispered, attempting to shake her head. “I can’t. No more.”

“Just one more.”

“I can’t.”

He wasn’t listening to her begging. He just needed to hear her come apart one last time, and then he would let her rest. Even though Maia whimpered when his hands slid down her front and sank between her thighs, he found her ready and willing there. She was so swollen, so sensitive, that the merest brush of his fingers against her skin had her groaning.

All it took was a few brushes of his fingers over that sensitive clit of hers and she was crying out in his ear. Hours of this apparently made her so sensitive that sending her over the edge took so little.

“Sweet wife,” he murmured, brushing her wet hair back from her face. “So perfect for me. Last one. I promise.”

She was a panting mess against his neck and he’d never seen anything prettier. This was what he had wanted. This was what he hadneededsince the moment he’d decided she was his: Hours to dedicate to her pleasure and her pleasure alone.

Hours for him to solidify that she wanted him, and against all odds, he wanted her too.

Ragnar held her a little tighter, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing. He wanted to breathe her in for a little while longer, but also knew that he needed to get her home.

She whimpered slightly, turning her head into his neck and going even more limp.

“You need a bed,” he murmured against her neck, moving to carry her out of the water. “Do you want to sleep, fire hair?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“I’ll bring you to bed, then. Tuck you in and make sure nothing touches your dreams. How’s that sound?”

But she was already asleep in his arms. Sighing, he set her down on the warm moss for a few moments so he could yank his clothing on, and then helped get her dressed. She was grumpy while he did it, half asleep and making little noises of displeasure as he pulled her dress over her head and moved her arms into the right position. Adorable.

Everything about her was so soft and delicate, and he couldn’t believe that he’d once thought that would be a problem. When he’d first looked at her, all he could see was a tiny person who would need his protection. But now?

“Your bravery never ceases to amaze me,” he murmured as he gathered her up in his arms and started toward their home.

Not just in the battle or how she’d fought that soldier off, but in taking him all the way. He could only imagine that it had been terrifying for her. Looking at a fully grown, massive troll and expecting anything to happen between them had to be madness on her part. Yet she’d done it.

More than once now.

And fuck if he wasn’t the luckiest man in the realm right now. Because his bride wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and there was nothing standing in their way now. Nothing between them. She’d fought at his side and maybe it was just the high after spending hours between her thighs, but he had more hope than he’d had in a long time.

Their future was looking brighter and brighter. With that thought, he said nothing else as his troll wife fell asleep in his arms and he carried her home. She was warm and pliable in his grip, easy to carry but also a reminder of all the precious things he had to be thankful for.

Ragnar returned her to their home safely and quietly. A few trolls gave them strange expressions. Furrowed brows and pursed lips were abound, but no one stopped them. And when he settled her on the bed, he brushed her hair back from her face and blew out a long, relieved sigh. They were home. They were safe.

Here he could keep her until the very end of time. No one would find her here, and no one would dare even touch her without knowing they would answer to him.

Ragnar went out into the parlor for another blanket and then heard a knock on his front door. A quiet one. Like the person on the other side knew they were disturbing him and his troll wife, who desperately needed her rest.

Frowning, he headed over, ready to tell off whoever was on the other side. His bride neededrest. After everything she had seen and gone through, the trolls could at least give her that.

But when he threw open the door, he sighed in defeat. The official messenger of King Egil stood on the other side, clearly not pleased to be here either.

---