Page 24 of Heart of the Wolf
The look was so heady and intoxicating that she faltered, almost dropping her blade.
A wide smile split across his lips, pushing his wind-streaked cheeks into his eyes. His hands stretched out to his sides, palms up, as he tilted his chin back to avoid the sting of steel.
“Well done. I am at your mercy. What will you do with me?” he purred, his tongue sweeping over his teeth.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the force of it so brutal, he must have heard it. Before she could respond, he fisted the blade. Blood spilled from where it bit into his flesh, staining the steel red. Gold sparked in her dark eyes. She glared at him, her mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line.
“Leif. Are you mad? That could get infected,” she hissed, glowering at him.
“Only a scratch. Are you worried for me?”
“Of course,” she huffed, and he smirked, looking almost smug.
Releasing the sword, he dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her into his chest. He spun her, nuzzling her throat. He latched onto the sensitive spot fluttering above her pulse, sucking and soothing the bruise with his tongue. She whimpered, her head falling back onto his shoulder.
Unconsciously, she rocked into him, rolling her bottom against his groin. His nails dug into her, stilling her movements. She squeaked, and a low, broken laugh blew across her cheek. The hand on her hip moved, splaying over her navel. His teeth grazed the shell of her ear, his breath hot against her face.
“You are playing a dangerous game,” he said, flicking his tongue over her lobe. “My little firebird is going to get burned if she’s not careful.”
“Maybe I want to catch fire,” she breathed, a boldness she didn’t know she had lacing her words.
She turned in his arms to face him.
More than once, her father had scolded her for being too forward. If she were anywhere else but here, she never would have dared to challenge any man as she had Leif. But with him, she melted under the molten intensity of his gaze. It wasn’t lit with distaste. No, he gazed at her with a dark desire that made her insides twist.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles there. His jaw jumped. When he didn’t stop her, she continued.
Slowly, she perused his body, her hands moving from his shoulders to his biceps. Her fingers toyed with the soft linen of his tunic, rolling the ties between her fingers. A primal sound rumbled in his throat, his eyes closing as he sucked in a shallow breath.
A deep voice boomed behind them, pulling her from her exploration. Jumping back, she hid her face under her hood. Amund glanced at them, his face riddled with amusement. Heat crept up her chest and throat, burning her face with it.
Leif snarled, dragging his nails through his beard. “Amund. I will skin your flesh from bone.”
The jarl smirked, unbothered by Leif’s threats, raising his hands in surrender.
“I thought you were training?” he observed, eyes flicking between their scarlet-stained faces. Leif’s reddened in anger. Brielle’s in embarrassment. “Perhaps swordplay takes many forms, Úlfr.”
Dipping his bloodied hand into his boot, Leif retrieved his dagger. Brielle paled, unable to stop him before Leif hurled the blade straight at Amund’s head.
Without breaking a sweat, the man plucked the steel from the air, laughing as blood dripped down his fingertips. Leif scowled, rolling his eyes.
Amund dipped his chin in her direction, winking. Twigs cracked under his boots as he rolled the ornate blade between his fingers before clutching Leif’s shoulder.
“You should try harder next time,” Amund taunted, giving Leif his dagger back like he hadn’t just tried to kill him with it.
“Next time you interrupt us, I will,” Leif hissed, shoving the blade back into his boot. “What is so important?”
The mirth in Amund’s dark eyes fizzled out, leaving something steely and cold. Leif raised a brow. Sensing the tone shift, he kneeled in the cold earth, taking bandages and paste from his satchel. He cleaned the wound on his palm, applying the paste before wrapping it in fresh linen. The steadiness and confidence in his movements impressed Brielle. He was someone who was well-versed in basic healing practices.
Standing, he faced Amund. The jarl slipped into furious Norse. Brielle stood back, listening but not understanding any of it. Leif nodded, his eyes narrowed into slits as he scrubbed his jaw. When Amund finished, Leif clapped him on the back, murmuring a few words before the jarl left them again.
In two long strides, he was back at Brielle’s side. He tucked her into his chest, his hands curling around herwaist. His massive hand splayed across the span of her ribs, reminding her how tiny she was in his grasp.
“I will take you home,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
Furrowing her brow, she scraped her nails through his beard.
“Is something the matter?”
