Page 64 of Wulver's Flame
Nothing I tried worked. It only made her angrier.
My wolf was howling, my bond was screaming, and somewhere in that firestorm of agony and glory…our pup was coming.
???
She gripped my forearm with a strength I didn’t know she possessed, sweat gleaming on her brow, her lips pulled back in a snarl.
“Gods curse you, Vargr! I hope your cock rots and falls off before I give you another bloody bairn!”
“That means it’s close,” Brynhild said calmly.
Liùsaidh screamed again, voice hoarse, body trembling. She was soaked with sweat, her thighs streaked with blood and the remnants of battle. The sheets were a battlefield. She was a warrior, and this was her war cry.
My chest burned. I wanted to tear the pain from her, take it all and make it mine. But I couldn’t. All I could do was hold her hand and whisper through clenched teeth,“You’re almost there, flameheart. Just one more push.”
Her eyes rolled back as she bore down again, her body rippling with the force of it. A strangled cry tore from her throat—half scream, half sob—as Brynhild reached between her thighs.
“The babe is crowning,” she said.“The child is coming.”
I knelt, heart hammering, unable to breathe as I watched. A head, slick with blood and fair hair, emerged. A shout from Liùsaidh, louder than before—then a final push and the sound I never expected to gut me, but it did.
A tiny cry. It got louder.
It was strong, piercing and furious.
A boy.
Sköll was silent. He was so overwhelmed with love that he froze. His silent gaze behind mine soaked our pup in. We inhaled his scent and absorbed it as ours.
Brynhild turned him over, quick and sure, then placed the wailing pup on his mother’s heaving chest. Liùsaidh sobbed, arms trembling as she cradled him to her breast. Our pup latched on instantly, ravenous as his tiny fists curled against her skin.
My knees buckled.
I leaned in, pressed a kiss to her temple, another to our pup’s damp head.
Brynhild gave us one lingering look, face unreadable, but eyes soft before slipping from the room.
I cupped Liùsaidh’s face, brushing damp curls from her cheek. She was pale, shining with exertion, yet more beautiful than ever.
“We’ll call him Taran,” I said softly.
She blinked up at me, dazed.“That’s…that’s not a Norse name. It’s one of mine.”
“Aye,” I teased, using her tongue.“It means thunder. He roared into this world as your thunderous threats still rang in my ears.”
Her laugh cracked into a sob. She pulled the pup closer.
“I am honoured to be your mate, Liùsaidh. To sire and call this thunder-born pup ours.”
Her eyes shimmered, blue as the summer sea, full of love and exhaustion.“You’re lucky I don’t bite your cock off after all that.”
I chuckled and kissed her again, deeper this time, while our son suckled at her breast like a ravenous little wolf.
Taran, son of the wolf and his flame.
Born of prophecy, blood and fate.
???
