Page 9 of Wulver's Flame
The red, swollen mass between his legs.
It wasn’t a man’s body. My dogs at home were like him.
“You’re a monster,” I whispered. Then louder, more desperate.
“By Morrígan—cloak me in your shadows. Save me!”
I shrieked, burying myself beneath the pelt. I waited.
Surely the Gods would strike him down.
Nothing happened.
I lowered the pelt to my nose. He had his back to me, calm as ever, tending the fire.
A fire. In this mild season. Such a wasteful act.
I blinked.
What was I thinking?
I was a beast’s bride. He would tear me open with the length of his staff alone.
My first time, and I was chained to a beast.
The bed dipped, and I screamed, clawing my way off the bed, tumbling to the floor. He blew out the oil lamp.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. The faint light from the embers glowed.
“I won’t lie with you,” I whispered bravely.
“I hope you have a comfortable night-watching down there.”
The shameless beast.
I sat on the floor, touching the collar around my neck before wrapping the pelt around me. I’d rather sleep on the floor than lie beside a beast.
A Norse beast.
Were the Gods mocking me?
I gripped the collar with cold fingers. It didn’t budge. Just a ring of iron and humiliation. A symbol of my father’s betrayal. Of the brute I now shared a roof with.
I curled tighter in the pelt, willing sleep to claim me, but the furs smelled of him. Smoke and sweat and something wilder. My belly clenched. Not from hunger, but dread.
I clenched my jaw and refused to cry.
Let the dog rot.
I would survive this even if the Gods had turned their backs on me.
Chapter 5
Vargr
She didn’t stir when I moved.
Quiet as death, I lit the oil lamp from the embers. Soft, warm light bathed the room. Her flame-red curls spilled over the pelt. Bare feet tucked beneath her. Her chest rose with shallow, shivering breaths.
