Page 64 of The Fanged One

For someone who claimed to be nervous, Fenris certainly didn't act like it. He worked Linnea until she was begging to come, changing his angle until every stroke caught the place that undid her, and when she shattered the second time, it took him with her, his hips driving deep and a hoarse sound breaking out of him against her throat. She held onto him, both of them shaking, and couldn't have said which of them trembled harder.

Fenris kissed her softly as they came down before rolling them so she sprawled across his chest, his arm banded over the small of her back, his heart slamming under her ear and slowing by degrees. His hand moved up and down her spine in hypnotic strokes.

"Nervous, my ass," she mumbled drowsily, grinning at the answering rumble of laughter under her ear.

"I was nervous, little singer," he swore, and she tickled him. "Is this your way of saying you enjoyed it?"

Linnea lifted her head. "What gave it away? Me screaming your name or coming hard enough to almost black out."

Fenris's grin was bashful and smug at the same time. "Just wait until I've had some time to practice."

"What a terrible thing to say to a woman when we are about to have zero privacy," she complained, biting his chest.

"We'll just have to make the most of the moments we do get," he replied, his fingers threading through her hair.

Linnea lay over him, full of feelings tangled up with drowsy contentment. She didn't understand how being with a true mate could possibly be better than this. He was warm and solid under her, and she was so safe and drunk on joy.

Tomorrow they would walk down into Hel's trials, and Fenris's dramatic sister had been clear that they would suck in ways they couldn't imagine.

Linnea pressed her lips to the silver scar over Fenris's heart and shut her eyes.

If this was all she got, if the trials took everything else, then at least she had this.

One perfect night with the sexiest god in creation, in a warm room at the bottom of the underworld, and it was more than enough.

31

Breakfast in Éljúðnir smelled like every good morning Linnea had ever had and a few she had only dreamed about.

The long tables were heaped with black bread and butter, soft cheese, eggs, platters of smoked ham (at least she hoped it was ham), and bowls of berries.

She came in beside Fenris, scrubbed and dressed and absolutely determined to act normal.

She made it four steps before someone wolf-whistled.

From the head of the table, Hel took one glance at the pair of them, and her delighted smile was brighter than a sunrise.

"Well, well, well," the goddess of the underworld called. "Good morning, big brother. You look rested."

"Thanks. I slept fine," Fenris said, ignoring her bait.

"I'm sure you did. Eventually." Hel buttered a slab of bread without breaking eye contact. "I built this hall for the silent dead, you understand. They are restful and quiet company and don't ever keep the entire east wing awake." She took a serene bite. "I may have to soundproof the guest rooms before your next visit, little singer. You have a remarkable range."

Heat went up Linnea's neck and straight into her hairline. Beside her, Fenris flipped off his sister, and the rest of the table erupted in cheers and catcalls.

"I knew it." Layla pointed at them with the tip of her knife. "Last night I said, ‘Those two are going to bang the guest bed to pieces tonight,’ and Ciara was all 'Give it another day.' Ha! I love being right."

"It was hardly a competition, baby cousin. It was the single most obvious thing in any of the Nine Realms. I foolishly assumed that Fenris would behave under his sister's roof," Ciara replied.

"Like they behaved under mine?" Tor added with a grin.

Arne gave Tor's braid a tug. "You aren't as intimidating as the goddess of the underworld."

"Oh, shut up, all of you," Linnea told them, which they ignored entirely.

"You all should be ashamed of yourselves. Come, sit with me and ignore them all." Von slid down the bench, took Linnea by the arm, and reeled her in to sit beside him. His mouth went to her ear and whispered, "As soon as we are alone, I want every dirty detail, and you aren't to leave out the size of anything. If you don't hold anything back, I promise you will drink free for life at Ritual."

"Von—" she began, but he had already started piling her plate with boiled eggs.