Page 14 of Wulver's Flame
Then the ache.
Low. Heavy. Shameful.
“What are you? A fuath? A demon from the waters?”
I jabbed a finger at him.“Stop it.”
He was seducing me. Luring me into—
A bark of laughter cut through my panic, raw and mocking.
It burned hotter than the blush on my cheeks.
I grabbed the wooden platter, seriously considering smashing it over his smug face.
He stood before I could swing.
“Such a vivid imagination,” he said, voice low with amusement.“Eat. Rest. I’ll be back later.”
I glared at his retreating back, but set the wooden dish in my lap instead.
It would be a shame to waste such good food.
As I nibbled what was left, I heard his voice bark commands outside—sharp, clipped, merciless.
The memory of the beast returned with every word. I shivered.
A timely reminder of who and what he truly was.
Chapter 7
Vargr
My control was ready to snap like a dried twig. By Freyja’s tears, it was torture to watch her eat. Liùsaidh’s body was reacting. My seed had rooted itself deep—she didn’t know it yet. Confusion twisted across her brow, and anger danced in her eyes, but the scent didn’t lie.
Honey.
Sweetness thick in the air from her honeypot.
I licked my lips, remembering the taste.
She bloomed for me in sleep.
She’d do it again. Awake.
The chains would remain.
If I removed them, she’d run.
Sköll growled, eager for the chase.
Let her run, he urged with his excitement bubbling beneath my skin.
But I shook him off. Not yet.
I waved the scribe away.
Work could wait.
