by Amy Sumida
“That's what I thought!” UnnúlfR declared triumphantly and a little eagerly. “Does it have something to do with that wolf? Tell me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you bored, UnnúlfR?”
“What?” He blinked rapidly. “No, why would you ask that? I'm not bored. Why would I be bored? There's plenty to do here.”
“You are!” I dropped my jaw in dramatic shock at him. “You're dying for a hunt.”
UnnúlfR huffed, “I am, but I don't want to leave.”
“Ve're not really hunting, ve're searching,” Kirill clarified.
“For what?”
“For who,” I corrected. “You ever hear of a goddess named Mokosh?”
“Have I heard of her?” he scoffed. “She's Russian; they're like a sister pantheon to ours. And Mokosh is one of their main gods.”
“A sister pantheon to the Norse? How did I not know this?” I muttered.
“Vervain, there were Vikings in Russia,” UnnúlfR said as if I should know that already.
And I did.
“Oh, that's right. The Rus. Russians. Duh.”
UnnúlfR chuckled. “Yeah well, you've had a lot on your plate lately.”
“What I miss?” Veja asked eagerly as she joined us. Nearly as eagerly as UnnúlfR.
I lifted a brow at my brother-in-law.
He frowned at his girlfriend before he answered, “They met some Russian Gods.”
“You did?” Veja asked. “Vhich ones?”
“Well, that's not what I said, but we have met two so far,” I admitted. “Jarilo and Perun.”
“Perun, huh?” UnnúlfR grinned wickedly at me. “How'd that go?”
“I take it, you've met him before?” I countered.
“Yep.”
“So, you know that he looks nearly identical to Thor?”
“Yep. All but the hair. Freaky, isn't it?”
“What's freaky is Jarilo; he looks just like Ull.”
“Oh, right,” UnnúlfR sobered. “You okay?”
I blinked. I'd never thought to see the day when UnnúlfR asked after my wellbeing. We had a bit of a rocky start. “Yeah, I'm all right. It's not as if Ull is lost to us.”
“It's the magic,” UnnúlfR explained. “Humans believed in similar gods and their belief made them appear similar as well.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” I transferred my attention to Veja. “Did you find out if it was one of your people who we saw this morning?”
“One of my sons is looking into it; he'll let us know ven he's spoken to everyone.”
“They're hunting Mokosh,” UnnúlfR told Veja.
“Vhat?!” Veja gaped at him.
“We are not hunting Mokosh.” I rolled my eyes. “We're helping her son look for her.”
“Mokosh is missing,” Kirill clarified. “Last seen in Alūksne.”
“Missing?” Veja went still. “How long has she been missing?”
“Over a week.” I cocked my head at her. “Why? Do you know anything about it?”
“I know zat zere have been deaths in Alūksne recently. Strange deaths.”
“Drownings,” I confirmed. “Mokosh was looking into them when she disappeared.”
“Vell, zat can't be good,” Veja muttered and looked at UnnúlfR pointedly.
“We should help them look for her,” UnnúlfR suggested.
“You're right.” She grinned. “Ve should.”
“All right, you two.” I put down my tea. “I get it; you want some action, but we've got this under control. Watching Lesya for us is a huge help. If you could keep her until tomorrow night, that would give us a chance to look into Mokosh's disappearance without worrying about her. I'd really appreciate that since Kirill doesn't want to take her back to the palace.”
“It's not a problem; Lesya can stay as long as she likes,” Veja said. “But don't you zink having a local vith you vould be helpful?”
“We have Jarilo,” I reminded her.
Vejasmate sighed and UnnúlfR straight-up pouted.
“I suppose it vouldn't hurt,” Kirill murmured to me.
“If you're with us, who will be watching Lesya?” I asked.
“My daughter, Ginta; she's Karina's mother,” Veja rushed to say. “Lesya vill be fine; I promise. She von't leave stronghold and nothing can reach her in here. It's nearly as safe as God Realm.”
“Come on, Vervain,” UnnúlfR whined. “Let us play too.”
I laughed. “All right, you can come. But I'm telling you, it's not going to be all that exciting.”
A man walked in and up to Veja. Good-looking, tall, and blond; I recognized him as her son, Gustav.
“Volf vasn't one of ours,” Gustav announced, casting his concerned glance from his mother to me.
Instead of being upset, Veja grinned. “Ve have lone volf in story now, Vervain. I zink it's just gotten exciting.”
Chapter Twenty-One
We left Lesya with the Vilkacis that night and traced back to the cabin. I called Jarilo and told him to meet us in the same place on the peninsula in the morning and to bring his mother's blouse again. The Werewolves of Latvia were going to help us hunt... I mean; search.
While I was on the phone, Kirill lit a fire in the wood-burning stove to warm up the cabin. The little thing worked surprisingly well, with pipes leading off from it to different parts of the cabin. I hung up the phone and set my things in the bedroom then went to take a hot shower. The grime of the day was getting to me. At least I'd brought boots for cold weather, otherwise, the grime would have been all over my feet as well; shorelines are always messy affairs. Unfortunately, the shower wasn't big enough for two so Kirill had to wait his turn. We passed each other in the bathroom; me—wet and clean, him—dry and dirty.
I slid my body against his with a wicked grin. “Don't take too long.”
Kirill growled in his throat and slapped a hand on my hip to slide me back in front of him. He dipped his head to meet my lips and the next thing I knew, I was perched on the tiny counter, my butt hanging into the sink. I laughed as I pushed him away.
“I'm not having sex with you in this tiny bathroom.” I jumped down and shoved him toward the shower. “Especially not with you dirty. I want to be able to lick you wherever I like.”
“You'd best be liking and licking a lot of places,” Kirill grumbled as he got into the stall.
“Clean them and I will,” I tossed back as I left.
Kirill was out in five minutes flat.
I'd just poured us a couple of glasses of wine and turned off the lights when he emerged from the bedroom. Only the glow of the fire and the moonlight through the window illuminated the room; silver and gold competing for status. I had a thin robe on, nothing else, and my damp hair was making it stick to my back, cooling my skin. Kirill came up behind me, his hands sweeping my hair aside so he could press against me, taking the chill from me and giving me his warmth. His lips trailed kisses up my neck as he pushed the glasses away from my hands.
“No wine?” I turned in his embrace.
“Not yet.” Kirill lifted me into his arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck.
He was naked. Just how I liked him.
Kirill didn't take me far. He set me down on the dining table, facing the window, then slid onto the bench before me. With a grin that matched my earlier one, he untied my robe and unwrapped me. Moonlight set my skin to glowing and the moon magic inside me came alive, drinking it in. Kirill's large hand swept down from my collarbone and between my breasts, his fingers pushing them apart. He kept moving downward, over my belly, his gaze following, then added a second hand to shift my legs apart. I set my feet on the bench to either side of his thighs.
“Lay back, Vervain,” Kirill murmured, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet.
I took one last look at his flashing eyes then laid back on the wood. Kirill's head bent, light gleaming off the slick length of his hair, and his hands pushed my thighs wider apart. I felt his fingers spreading me in an even more intimate way then
the heat of his breath coated my sensitive flesh. I shivered as Kirill hovered above me, breathing in deeply and exhaling on a growl.
Instead of the long licks I was expecting, Kirill dove for the bud at the top of my sex, sucking it into his mouth with the fervor of an acolyte. I bit my lip and moaned.
“Don't hold back,” he lifted his head to say. “No one is here but us. Scream for me, Tima.”
Kirill's hot tongue did things to my body that made it impossible to keep silent, even had I wanted to. Flicking rapidly at that shivering apex. Lapping luxuriously at the whole of my sex. Thrusting with his finger inside me. He growled against me, using even that to add pleasure. My body began to thrum with ecstasy; my hands sliding over his head and grasping at his wide shoulders. My gaze lifted from Kirill to the window where, just beyond the dark lace of the tree canopy, I could see the sparkle of stars.
It went on and on, Kirill taking his time to enjoy himself, relishing every lick. He stretched his hands up my body and grasped my breasts, kneading them while he settled his face against me as if he intended to stay that way for the rest of the night. Kirill rolled against me, nuzzling my sex, before setting to licking at it again.
“No more!” I screamed after my fifth—or was it sixth?—climax. “Stop, Kirill!”
My legs shook uncontrollably, my throat was tight from my harridan shrieks, and my sex was so sensitized that every brush against it sent electrical zings through me. That was when Kirill stood up and sank his hardened flesh into my body. There was no resistance but I automatically clenched around him as soon as he entered; held him tightly as if I never wanted to let go.
Kirill pulled out. We both gasped with the shock of it. He slammed back in and the table shook. A steady pounding ensued; his shaft stroking and filling, his hands firmly attached to my hips, and his pelvis bones hitting my thighs. But it wasn't enough. I drew my legs up, and Kirill eagerly helped me; draping my ankles over his shoulders. He surged deeper, and I started to scream again.
“My love,” Kirill murmured as he laid his palm over my heart.
Beneath his hand, I felt that glowing cord that bound us and knew that he felt it too. I had a connection to every lion in our pride but it was different with Kirill. I had made a blood oath to him and blood magic is stronger than any other. Kirill couldn't return the vow since he wasn't a god, but even one-sided, Blood to Heart is powerful; more binding than any vow, even our marriage vows. I could feel Kirill through it, even hear his thoughts and speak to him in his mind if I wanted to, and it was the same for him. We rarely invaded each other's thoughts—frankly, it was such a subtle connection that we often forgot about it, sometimes to our detriment—but I felt him seeking entrance now; a presence pushing gently. A mental knocking. He didn't have to ask; he could have simply come in, but that was Kirill.
I drew him inside me in every way that I could; his shaft in my sex, his thoughts in my mind, and then his tongue slipping into my mouth. I was full of Kirill; so full that I barely knew who I was. I felt both his pleasure and mine, layered atop each other. It felt as if I were moving into a wet, rapturous embrace even as I did the embracing. My love for Kirill billowed up from my heart to meet his and then it was his. The aching expanse of Kirill's emotions enfolded me. Pulsing with happiness, warm with gratitude, and so vast that I couldn't feel the end of it. It was like endless space; that's how this incredible man loved.
Tears slid down my face.
Kirill drew back; out of our kiss and out of my mind. He stared down at me tenderly as he swiped away the evidence of my profound joy. Nothing needed to be said; we had both felt the truth of each other. No “I love you” could top that. Instead, we connected our stares and bodies and hearts as we continued to move together; the ecstasy of completion becoming even more blissful with that honesty between us.
We spiraled up together and my final scream was joined by the roar of the Black Lion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kirill wrapped us in a blanket and carried me outside. He built another fire—while unabashedly naked—then snuggled back into the blanket with me, setting me on his lap. He leaned back in the wood-slat chair, I leaned my head on his shoulder, and we stared at the moon together.
“I could sit here vith you like zis forever.” Kirill shifted his stare from the moon to my face.
“It's nice to be completely alone,” I agreed. “No one for miles. Even better than our Valentine's date.”
“Even better,” he agreed. Then he sobered, “I vish she could have met you.”
“Who?”
“My mother.” He kissed the tip of my chin. “She vas brave like you.”
“Braver, I'd say. She lived in a time when women weren't allowed to do certain things. I, at least, have people who support me and my wild ways.”
“She did too, eventually. But, da, she had to claw her vay into better life.”
“That's who you got your lion heart from.” I stroked his hair back from his face; it was finally drying.
“You are my lion heart, Tima,” Kirill said with emphasis on the last word.
“I'm the heart of the Intare, but you have your own heart, Kirill,” I insisted. “I know; I just felt it. It's strong and full of love.”
“It hasn't always been,” he murmured, his gaze going distant.
When Kirill had died—briefly—and come back to his body, he'd been partially cleansed by death. He didn't lose his memories but he lost the pain that the more traumatic events had left inside him. Knowing that made it easier to listen to him recount his past tragedies but even though Kirill didn't feel the pain anymore, I did. I felt it for him. I'd carry that weight forever and I knew he was about to lay a few more pounds on me. I could hear it in his voice.
“Perhaps it hasn't been as full of love as it is now but as far as strength goes; no one is born strong, Kirill. Muscles must be developed and the heart is a muscle. Your life has worked your heart hard but now you can enjoy its power.”
“Pleasure is felt most vividly after pain,” Kirill said with a smile that quickly faded.
I cocked my head at him.
“It vas something my father used to say.” He made a soft, angry sound. “Except he meant it as rule for other people.”
“What does that mean?”
Kirill grimaced. “He tried to teach me to become leader like him. He said to fight not just vith body but also vith mind. He vould take me to meetings vith him zen, afterward, point out each man's veaknesses and how he had spotted zem. He told me once zat I should always know vulnerabilities of zose around me. In case I needed to destroy zem.”
“Wow.” I blinked. “Some real-life lessons there from good ol' Dad.”
Kirill chuckled. “As harsh as he vas, I believe he valued me, if not loved, and his lessons helped me survive Niyarvirezi.”
Kirill had been Niyarvirezi's favorite and that's not a position any Intare had coveted. Not for long. She had encouraged Kirill's love then took great pleasure in destroying it. Not only his love for her but also his love for his brother lions. She had forced him to be her Ganza but in the worst way possible. He was more her executioner than protector. The fact was; Niyarvirezi's lions were the ones who needed protecting—from her.
“Then your father served his purpose,” I said firmly. “He shaped you into a man who could survive something most men couldn't. And you survived long enough for us to find each other.”
Kirill's hand slid over my cheek as he stared at me, his eyes shadowed. “I tried to escape her once.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “I came here, to zis very forest.” His stare shifted to the trees. “My mother vould bring us here sometimes; my sisters and me. She came vith only us; my father vas always too busy. But she made sure zat ve knew vhere she came from and so, vhere ve came from too. She showed us her simple beginning. She said best leaders start simply and best people know vhat it means to be humble.”
“Sounds like a smart woman.”
He gru
nted. “I learned better lessons from her zan my father but still, it vas his teaching zat saved me zat day.”
“The day you escaped?”
Kirill nodded. “My father vas a cunning man. As much as he savored his control over others, he also knew ven to submit. Ven to admit defeat. He said to me; most men vill be conquered before learning to conquer. To live, you must know how to kneel. Remember zat you vill not be on your knees forever and vhile you are zere, use zat perspective to see vhat makes your enemies stronger zan you. Zen you may rise up and take power from zem.”
