“Sol. I won’t plant my seed in you anymore, but you—you’re torturing me.”
“Why would you stop?” I pressed my hips into the hard curve of his ass. My hand dipped between his legs, brushing his shaft. Hungry heat flared to life deep inside me, and my nipples hardened against his back. His body was so tense in my arms that it thrummed with energy.
“B-because you said I never stop fucking you,” he said, through gritted teeth. “And I can stop.”
I kissed the back of his neck, and he shivered. It struck me again how odd this was; I held the strongest monster in the Ironwood forest within the circle of my arms, and he was shaking. The great Fenris-wolf feared hurting me, the barefoot daughter of slaves who had never been more than a day’s walk from the cabin where she was born.
“But I like it,” I insisted. I wrapped my hand around his thickening shaft. “I like fucking you. I don’t think I want to be just your wife.”
He sucked air over his lips as I rubbed my thumb across the head of his cock. By the Realms, I loved this. I loved making him weak with pleasure, driving him out of his mind. I tightened my grip and moved my hand down his shaft, loving the way his breath rasped.
“I want to be your whore,” I growled. “I want you to fuck me, hard. I want you to fill me with your seed, until it’s dripping down the inside of my thighs.”
He groaned, almost in pain, and his cock pulsed in my fingers. The tip was wet now, leaking seed.
“But—you—” he stammered.
I sat up, shoved his shoulders to the mattress, and pressed him down against the dirt-streaked fabric of the feather bed. I covered his lips with mine, stopping any further protests. Tiny little feathers flew from the rips in the mattress, filling the air like a downy snowstorm. Fenris cried into my mouth, his chest straining against my palms, and I closed my teeth around his lower lip. My bite made his entire body shake like a drum.
“Fuck me,” I snarled, throwing my legs around his waist.
He groaned again, although whether it was in protest or assent was impossible to tell. I was already aching, hot and wet, so hungry for him it almost hurt. Fenris’s eyes squeezed shut, his head tilted back, and his fiery auburn hair spread over the mattress. His jaw clenched, almost as if he were in pain, and his breath came fast and shallow. I grabbed his cock, running my fingers over the tip one last time before I slid his length into my body. He gasped as he entered me, a low, soft animal moan.
“Fuck me,” I whispered. “Fuck me, husband. I want it.”
His pale eyes flew open, meeting mine. “Sol!”
His hands found their way to my thighs, and his hips began to rock against mine. I moved above him, taking what I needed, driving him deeper and deeper. His legs slickened with sweat, and I slid above him, pushing our bodies closer. My fingernails dug into his shoulders, desperate for purchase, as his hands sank into my hair. He pulled my mouth to his. Our kisses were fierce and hungry, as brutally insistent as the fierce demands of our bodies; they left me gasping for breath, my lips swollen and bruised. I pulled away, arching my back as I rode him hard.
My climax swelled, and I drove toward it, thrusting against Fenris’s lean body with all my strength. I had enough breath to yell, “Yes! Stars, yes!” before the world crashed down around me, drowning me in an ocean of thick, resplendent pleasure. Fenris came a moment later, although I was only dimly aware of his scream, or the way his hips thrust off the mattress and lifted my entire body into the air.
The cave spun around us, filled only with the sounds of our panting breaths. Then Fenris pushed me to the mattress and rolled over onto his side. His breathing changed. It caught and staggered, turning into great hiccups or coughs.
His shoulders began to shake so violently the entire mattress trembled as it released more puffs of tiny, white feathers. I had enough time to wonder if I’d somehow hurt him in our passion before I realized what was happening.
Had I truly thought I’d seen Fenris cry before? By the Realms, how wrong I had been. This was crying. Fenris bent in on himself, almost as if he were burrowing into the mattress, his hands pulled tight to his side as great, ugly sobs wracked his muscular frame. Gently, I touched his arm. He tried to push me away, but I moved closer instead, wrapping my arms around his convulsing back.
For the first time, I realized, that despite all his wild strength and beauty, there was something delicate hidden deep inside my husband, something like the gentle, dappled curve of a wild bird’s egg nestled in the tall summer grass.
And I’d hurt him with my reckless words, as carelessly and thoughtlessly as crushing one of those small, hidden treasures beneath my heel.
“Oh, stars, Fenris,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
Strangled little whimpers fell from his lips as he shook his head, his eyes screwed firmly shut. “Sol,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I—I knew I’d fuck this up.”
“You didn’t. You didn’t fuck anything up.”
His head shook in my arms as his shoulders trembled. “I f-fuck everything up. Even this. Even love.”
“Shhhhh,” I whispered. “I love you. I love you.”
He took a deep, gasping breath and his sobs calmed, although his eyes stayed shut. “I just— I just wanted to do this right. To make my wife h-happy.”
I kissed the curve of his neck, his tear-streaked cheek, and the delicate shell of his ear. “I’m happy. I’m happy, my love. My husband. Shhhhh, I am happy.”
His breathing finally slowed, and his heartbeat gentled. I held him for a long time, afraid to move or speak. He seemed so vulnerable, somehow, lying naked in my arms. I’d never thought of a man needing protection before, at least not once he was fully grown and married. My heart ached in my chest, feeling tight and pinched.
“I’ll protect you,” I whispered into the wild tangles of Fenris’s hair. “Come what may, I’ll protect you.”
THE MONSTER’S WIFE: CHAPTER TEN
We spent the next few days planning our move back to my family’s cabin. I was so excited that the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. Even my persistent morning nausea was a sort of distant hum, like the clatter and roar of a waterfall from a great distance. The knowledge that I was going to have a baby, Fenris’s baby, filled me with a soaring joy so vast I felt almost as if I were dreaming. I’d fallen in love, been rescued from a wicked king, married the handsome prince, and now we were to join the rest of my family. It was almost like one of Bard Sturlinsen’s fairy stories, the kind I’d tell our children as I tucked their little bodies into our sleeping furs.
“Of course, we’ll take the sleeping furs with us,” I said, standing over our bed in the sunny, but cool, morning air. “And the mattress. But it might seem a little overwhelming, showing up with the bed before we’ve even asked if we can move in.”
I turned to examine the rest of the cave, where we’d hung various items from spurs in the rock wall. My fingertips trailed over the soot-stained walls, freeing a few of the tiny feathers that had escaped the mattress only to become ensnared against the granite. My reed mat, finally finished, rested against the wall near the fire, where I’d thought it might block some of the winter chill. Týr’s shirt lay neatly folded on the floor nearby, and Fenris had hung my bridal wreath above the mattress like a crown. I fingered the dried petals of the coneflowers, smiling.
“Let’s take the bread today, though,” I said. “We can carry all the bread, right? But the mead ... ? Maybe not. And not the drinking horn. Not right now, at least. What do you think?”
I turned to Fenris, who was standing in the doorway, his glorious body bathed in early morning sunlight.
“Hmmm?” He tilted his head at me. I got the distinct impression he hadn’t exactly been listening to everything I’d said.
I ran my fingers through my hair and turned back to the wall. “I don’t think we should bring much, this time. Maybe just Týr’s bread?”
“Whatever you think,” he said, with a smile so damned gorgeous it made m
y insides melt.
“And you’re sure you don’t mind helping my brothers? With the purple oak? I mean, having you around, it would change everything.”
Fenris’s mouth wrinkled for a moment, as if he’d tasted something sour. “It’ll mean wearing clothes.”
“Oh, my love,” I stepped across the cave to link my fingers around his neck. “Once we’re settled, and whenever we are in the barn, I will insist you never wear a single item of clothing.”
“Even in the winter?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, yes,” I growled against his neck. “I think I can manage to keep you warm.”
His eyes danced as we pulled apart, and my heart swelled in relief. The first day after our argument, a shadow had hung behind his eyes, and part of me worried I’d irreparably broken something precious between us. But over the next few days, as the new moon arrived but my menstrual flow did not, and as I told him more about what life with my family would entail, Fenris’s smile had slowly returned.
His hands dropped to cup my abdomen. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” I’d nibbled half a crust of bread just after waking, which seemed to keep the worst of the nausea at bay.
He spread his fingers across my stomach, and the warmth of his touch seeped through my skin. His eyes grew distant, as though he were listening for something that was very far away. Over the past few days, Fenris had begun to stroke my stomach like he was searching for confirmation of what he’d planted there. I placed my hand over his, lacing our fingers together, and kissed his soft lips.
“I don’t feel anything,” he finally said. “Aren’t you supposed to get bigger?”
I laughed. “It’ll be months before I show, I think. If I’m really pregnant at all.”
“Oh, you’re pregnant,” he said. “Your scent is different.”
“Different?” I pulled in mock indignation.
“It’s not bad! It’s a good different!”
Fenris’s cheeks flushed, and I smiled. He was getting better at recognizing when he’d said something his foolishly sensitive wife might find hurtful. Of course, I was getting better at protecting his feelings as well.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Now, shall we go?”
CLOTHES PROVED TO BE a problem, of course. The dress Fenris had stolen for me to wear on our trip to Evenfel was splattered with the blood of Nøkkyn’s soldiers, and I had no desire to wear it again. Besides, I’d already begun cutting strips off the wide skirts to patch some of the larger holes in our feather mattress. In the end, I decided to wear Týr’s discarded shirt, which Fenris still called my “wedding dress.”
Fenris was more problematic. My dress from our Evenfel misadventure was torn and stained, but his clothes had been ripped to shreds. So, he’d transformed into his monstrous wolf form, vanished for the better part of a day, and come back with a strip of dark clothing hanging from his massive jaws. They were simple, wool trousers, he sheepishly explained. Did I think that would be enough clothing for meeting his mother-in-law?
“Of course,” I’d said, smiling behind my hand. “Of course, that will be just fine.”
So, after rolling Týr’s bread into a loose bundle with the stolen pants, I climbed onto Fenris’s sleek, dark back. My stomach lurched when he came to his feet, as it always did, but the rush of panic was less intense this time, and it faded quickly. Fenris walked slowly, careful not to jostle me, and my thoughts drifted as he picked his way through the massive pines, golden ash, and scarlet elms of the Ironwood. The trees were blazing in autumnal glory, and every step took us past another riot of color. If I’d been walking, I would have been tempted to pick up the flame-colored leaves and weave them into my hair.
“Will she be glad to see us, do you think?” Fenris asked, his chest rumbling between my thighs. He’d asked me the same question several times every day, as if he feared I might change the answer.
“My love,” I replied, shifting the bundle of bread and black pants to one arm so I could stroke his fur. “Of course she’ll be glad to see us.”
He huffed, his back lifting and sinking under me, and I laughed again.
“You don’t know how hard it is to survive out here if you can’t turn into a giant wolf!” I said. “When Ma sees us, she’ll see four more hands to help in the garden, or chop the firewood, or take down a deer for dinner.”
“Or she’ll see the great monster of the Ironwood,” he growled.
I planted a kiss between the shifting mountains of his shoulder blades. “When you bring home a stag for dinner, my darling husband, she won’t care if you have three heads.”
His chest heaved in a sigh. He was still skeptical then, although I’d tried to explain how happy Ma would be just to see me alive and how the entire family would embrace any man willing to help harvest the purple oaks. Before King Nøkkyn claimed me, my parents had fretted over my dowry. Ma and Da had warned me again and again that I’d better content myself with a poor sharecropper’s son and a life of hard work on someone else’s farm. No one had expected me to bring a husband to the family, let alone a husband as strong and wonderful as Fenris. They would be overjoyed.
But Fenris couldn’t quite accept my words. Perhaps our upbringings were so different that some chasms between us would always remain unbridgeable. At least until he actually met my family.
We walked for some time in silence as the forest shimmered in resplendent fall colors all around us. A woodpecker beat out his steady rhythm from somewhere deep in the shadows, and crows circled above us, screeching and jeering.
Fenris froze.
It happened so suddenly that I pitched forward, bracing myself against his back. A loaf of rye bread tumbled from my arms and fell to the leaf-strewn ground far below. Something low and ominous rattled the leaves around us. It took me a heartbeat to realize Fenris was growling.
“What is it?” I whispered.
His head swung back, and his great, pale eyes met my face. “Something’s wrong. Sol, we should turn back.”
A cold ripple of fear traveled the length of my body. What in the Nine Realms could possibly scare the Fenris-wolf?
“What?” I whispered.
He took a step backward, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “No,” he said. “No, Sol, this isn’t going to work.”
“Fenris?”
His eyes closed. For a heartbeat, I could see my husband’s frown etched across the features of the monstrous wolf.
“We should turn around. Something has gone wrong. And, Sol, I’d spare you that, if I could.”
Another spasm of fear stretched across my body, moving like cold water down my spine. “What? What’s gone wrong? What are you talking about?”
“Smoke,” he finally said. “It’s old, but ... ” Fenris’s voice trailed off.
My heart kicked against my breastbone. “Smoke? Smoke could be anything!”
“Get off,” he said, sinking to the duff beneath his feet.
I slipped from his back. Golden light swirled around his body as I re-adjusted Týr’s old shirt. I bent to pick up the loaf of bread that had fallen from my arms. Now that I was on my feet again, I realized I knew this part of the Ironwood. We were almost to my family’s cabin. Just beyond this little clearing was the lonely boulder I used to pretend was a ship, or a castle. And past that was the Lucky, chattering as it raced toward our southern field.
Fenris stood before me, naked and frowning, watching me closely. “Can you smell it?”
I raised my head, closed my eyes, and tried. The Ironwood forest smelled like fallen leaves warmed by the sun, the thick, sticky pitch of pine, the subtle tang of rot and fungus, and just a hint of the Lucky’s cold, metallic waters.
“No,” I admitted.
His frown deepened, and he rocked slightly on his heels. “We should turn around.”
“What?”
He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, looking almost nervous, and another explanation for his odd behavior dawned on me. It was a r
elief, actually; the thought of something that could frighten the Fenris-wolf was almost incomprehensibly terrifying.
“Are you getting cold feet?” I asked.
His eyebrows knit together. “Am I what?”
“You’re nervous, aren’t you? About meeting my family.”
He shook his head, quickly, side to side and back again. “No. It’s not that. I think ... something has gone wrong. I think we should leave.”
But he did look nervous. Even as I watched, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other a half dozen times.
“Don’t you want to meet my family?”
His blue eyes widened. “I do, Sol. But—”
“Then come on,” I snapped. I threw the black pants at him. “We can walk the rest of the way. I guess I can drag you, if I have to.”
“No!” He clutched my arm. “We can find somewhere else to have the baby! With all the money from Týr, we could go to Evenfel. Or maybe Týr could tell us where to go. Do you think the Æsir would take us in? I could hunt for them!”
I yanked out of his grip. My throat felt so tight I could hardly breathe. “You’re changing your mind? Now?”
The wind gusted between us, rattling leaves on the forest floor and unleashing a torrent of wide, golden ash leaves into the air between us.
It carried the scent of smoke. Not the crisp, warm smell of wood smoke from my family’s hearth, but the darker, older aura of char and ashes. The smell of destruction.
“Oh, stars,” I whispered.
Fenris turned to me, his face pale. “Let’s go—”
I was running toward my family’s cabin before he could finish his sentence.
THE MONSTER’S WIFE: CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was not much distance between the clearing where Fenris had stopped and my family’s cabin, but it seemed to take a very long time for me to reach the edge of the Ironwood. I ran as quickly as I could, arms and legs pumping, lungs burning, but time felt thick and lazy, as though the heavy, golden light of autumn had turned to honey, slowing my steps. The burned smell grew stronger. By the time I burst out from beneath the trees, another scent had joined it. The sharp, fermenting tang of apples rotting on the ground.
The Complete Fenris Series Page 21
