Page 74 of The Fanged One

Linnea pulled his face to hers and stared into his beautiful eyes.

"Every time," she said against his mouth and meant it down to the marrow. "Every single time, you silly god. Now stop playing and fuck me."

He snarled softly and fucked her into the wall until the heat was coiling tight in her belly, and at the very last second, he pulled free.

"You…"

"Bed," he cut her off, breathless and grinning.

Greedy, her wolf said approvingly.

Fenris carried her the last few feet and dropped her onto the furs. She rolled onto her hands and knees and looked back at him over her shoulder. Whatever was on her face undid the last of his patience. He gripped her hips, lined himself up, and drove back into her in one stroke that punched the air out of her lungs.

Fenris took her deep and relentlessly, one hand bunched in her hair and the other reaching around to work her clit in time with every thrust. The new angle hit something that turned her thoughts to static, and she pushed back to meet him, taking everything he gave and demanding more. She had spent the whole journey bracing for the next blow. Here, there was only him, driving the fear out of her, one stroke at a time.

"Come for me," he growled, his fingers merciless on her clit, his cock dragging over the exact spot inside her that made her see stars. "I've got you. Let go with me."

She came with a harsh cry muffled by the furs, clenching around his cock hard enough to drag him over with her. He buried himself to the hilt and spilled into her on a low and broken moan of her name.

They collapsed onto the bed together in a tangle of heavy limbs. Linnea lay with her head on his chest and her leg thrown over his, his heartbeat slowing under her ear. His hand was tracing up and down her spine, and he let the silence sit until she trusted it enough to break it.

"What did you hear in the swamp?" she asked, tilting her head to rest her chin on his chest. "You got this blank look on your face and started to walk straight for the water."

Fenris's hand stilled on her back. "It was my mother singing."

"That sounds like a good memory," she said, pressing a kiss to his warm skin.

"It was the best one I have from childhood." His voice grew softer and sadder. "It was also the worst thing to hear again because until the water gave it back to me, I had forgotten what her voice sounded like. I've been alive a very long time, Linnea. Some things wear away. I didn't even know that one was gone until I heard it again."

His arm tightened around her. "What about you? You, Tor, and Arne looked almost as gray as the dead. What did the draugr give you?"

"My father," she said, forcing the words out. "Skari was calling us murderers. Over and over. The way he did right at the end, when Tor finally called the holmgang on him, and they fought it out to the death in the yard."

Fenris said nothing. He only kept stroking her back and let her go at her own pace.

"It wasn't a sweet memory like yours," she continued, pressing her cheek on his chest. "I sat in my room with my music turned up as loud as it would go, the whole album, on a loop, because if I sang along loud enough, I couldn't hear the fighting." Her throat closed, but she pushed through it anyway. "That's why I reached for those Lady Gaga songs. It's what I played that day, singing at the top of my lungs so I wouldn't hear them tearing into each other and wouldn't scream out of fear that Skari would be the one to walk away and not Tor."

Fenris pressed his mouth to the top of her head and held it there. He didn't say it was all right because it hadn't been. He just held her for a long time until the sound of his heart and his arms around her calmed her once more.

"We make a fine pair," he said eventually. "A girl who sings to keep the dark out and a wolf who is afraid of being locked in the dark again."

"I'll keep the dark away from you. Promise," she whispered drowsily, her eyes closing. He murmured something in reply, but she was already asleep, Lady Gaga still singing in her ears.

36

The banging on the door dragged Linnea up out of the best sleep she had ever had.

For one second, she didn't know where she was. Furs. Fenris curled around her back. The fist hit the wood again, three hard knocks.

"Morning, apparently," she said, voice rusty.

They dressed quickly, and Linnea pulled the ward down with a flick of her fingers, opening the door onto a wall of sound.

The hall was full of people. Figures lined the benches and crowded the long tables, eating, talking, waiting. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread hung thick in the air. It had the look of a feast or a family reunion, which set several alarm bells ringing.

A shade peeled itself off the nearest wall and drifted to meet them, gray and see-through, its face moving like a reflection on water.

"This is the Hall of What Was," it said, and the voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "Here, the dead come to sit with you one more time. Sit, or don't, wanderers. They will find you either way."