Page 64 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“No.” She pressed her fingertips against his lips. “Most of the time with Osvald, only one of us took pleasure, and it brought no ease to either of us. You and I will go into this madness together or not at all.”

Then to his joy, she feathered her fingertips over his chest. A slight breeze found its way through the overhead smoke hole, cooling the fever heating his skin.

“This caring you speak of,” she said, her voice sultry, “surely it must go both ways. If one is not pleased, how can the other take pleasure?”

He dared not even draw breath as her clever hands danced over him, tickling along his ribs, teasing his nipples into hard knots. Then she reached down and cupped his ballocks, her gentle massage only sending his groin into a deeper ache. She explored his thighs, scooting close enough to reach around and run a thumb along the crevice of his buttocks.

His breath hissed over his teeth. “You little minx.”

She laughed, deep and throaty. Her breasts teased him with glancing brushes as she moved closer.

But she carefully avoided the throbbing shaft that yearned for her touch more than any other finger width of his skin.

Instead, she raked his ribs with her nails and splayed her hands across his flat belly. When she finally grasped him, the pressure inside him had risen, so it was all he could do not to come in her hands.

“Katla, I can’t—”

She surprised him into silence by wrapping her hands behind his neck and hooking a leg over his hip.

“Can’t what?” she asked with feigned innocence as she pressed herself against him, her hot moistness tormenting the tip of his cock.

“Can’t stand not swiving you for one more beat of my heart.” He covered her mouth with his. All his longing and hope poured into her. Lust and caring surged through him, twin cascades plunging into a rain-swollen river.

He loved her, he realized with a jolt.

Katla, his one-time mistress and owner. From the dark crown of her head to the soles of her delicately arched feet, he loved her.

And the greatest wonder of all was his ice princess seemed to care for him a bit too.

But if he didn’t take her right now, he’d die on the spot.

He rolled to pull her on top of him and pushed her hips down, gently impaling her on his rock-hard erection. He groaned, awash in the pleasure of her slick, hot flesh.

She cried out, but not with pain. The gasp that tore from her throat was the feral sound of feminine triumph as she engulfed him completely.

He moved inside her, reveling in her softness. Heart on heart, their bodies joined in perfect concert, seeking the deepest bonding possible.

Before, they’d strained against each other. Now they moved as one. Their hands, mouths, bodies, and hearts clasped tightly, and when they interrupted their kiss, it was only to tumble into each other’s eyes.

There is surrender in bliss. It’s a kind of dying the body welcomes, not unlike the wounded warrior who longs for the Valkyries to bear him to Valhalla. Brandr and Katla teetered for just a moment on the brink of that death then plummeted over the edge together. He felt her contract around him in spasms of joy as his seed pulsed into her.

Unwilling to part from her, he wrapped his arms around her. Gradually, the fever of lust subsided. When their bodies separated, she shifted to settle by his side. He looked up into the thatch overhead, utterly spent. A single star winked in the center of the smoke hole.

There was no need for words. Their bodies had said it all. A mantle of caring enveloped them, sending delayed shivers over their skin. Love sparked and crackled in the very air they breathed.

Their other couplings had been feral and hot, like a pair of wild creatures mating. But this joining had touched a part of him he hadn’t even been aware was there.

They were well and truly bonded.

She kissed his neck and snuggled close, relaxing against his body with the same lethargy that was stealing over him. In a few moments, her even breathing told him she’d escaped into the land of dreams and shadows.

Just before he followed her in sleep, Brandr decided he’d never ask the gods for another thing for the rest of his life. After this night, he’d already received more than the full measure of happiness usually meted out to mortals. Another drop of joy might tempt Loki beyond bearing, and everything Brandr cared for might be snatched from him by that envious trickster godling.

No, better to be safe than sorry.

Katla was his. It was more than he had a right to ask. More than he’d likely ever see again, especially once the morrow came and he put his plans in motion.

The ones he was sure Katla wouldn’t like one bit.