Page 42 of Wulver's Flame
I felt his mind unravel, and I only remembered all too well what had taken place last time. I reached into him, reminding him she was promised to us by Fenrir himself—that she was our mate.
He snarled at me, drool dripping out of his mouth. The long trails, falling over teeth and fur to the floor. He bared his fangs and leapt onto the bed, looming over her trembling form. Her screams continued, but now tears streamed down her face.
SHE IS CARRYING OUR PUP. I screamed at Sköll.
His low growl continued.
Do not injure her.LEAVE. NOW!The thought of him harming Liùsaidh made me feel ill. Not this time.
I tried to shift back, but it was no use. He wouldn't allow it.
The sharp twist of rejection after the heat, after the knot, after everything. It broke him.
He bolted.
Launched from the bed, claws raking the wood, crashing through the longhouse like a wounded beast. He barely missed a thrall carrying water. Snapped the air near her wrist before turning away, teeth clashing, and breath ragged.
He ran through the doorway. Through the icy winds.
When he reached the cliff’s edge, he threw his head back and howled.
A raw, shattering sound—ripped from the hollow pit of his heart. I remained silent.
We ran.
Sköll needed it—no, we needed it. A long, bitter run around the island’s edge. He tore through the brush, paws bloodied from stone and root, eyes wild. We circled again and again until the pain dulled, until our legs gave out.
Only then did we collapse in the dark woods. The sea hissed beyond the trees, and the stars blinked above like distant watchers who could offer no comfort.
In that silence, the whines came.
Low. Shaking and barely formed.
The kind of sound a beast makes when it remembers it once had a pack—kin.
Then he had found her. His. Our mate. A pup. A bloodline.
Now she rejected us. Our seed. Our pup.
Sköll curled into himself, tail tucked, ears flattened. His chest rose and fell with shallow breath. His soul ached in a way I had no words for.
No one heard those soft, broken cries but me.
Not even the Gods.
Chapter 18
Liùsaidh
My aching body was a testimony to the beast's handiwork. The bruises, scratches and the scar on my neck. His curse lived inside me, in my chest and my womanhood. I shivered, recalling the giant beast that emerged. The beast’s size was unnatural, and the golden eyes that glowed through his dark fur were terrifying. When he stood over me, I was sure that my life would end.
This was why his father exiled him. For the beast to destroy my people. Vargr’s tongue was full of lies. I thought of Dunraith. They wouldn't stand a chance against his men and the beast. The howls at night-watching made me pray fervently, asking the Gods to protect us.
My chest ached inside—the living thing inside me. At first, I thought it was my own pain. A deep ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I curled up tighter under the furs, pressing my hands to my belly, trying to quiet it. But it didn’t fade.
It got worse.
Like something was breaking inside me. Not with a crack, but with a slow, steady pull. Like being stretched too far. I bit my lip. Tried not to cry. Told myself it was nothing. That it would pass, but it didn’t feel like mine.
