Bjorn Cursed

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Bjorn Cursed Page 13

by N. J. Walters


  When she leaned forward, he picked up the pace. They were in sync, rider and animal. The birds continued to sing as they passed by. A squirrel skittered up a tree. A fox darted across the path. It was as though they didn’t realize a predator was only yards away.

  They circled the property. Look.

  Right, this was as much a scouting mission as a pleasure ride. “I see the stream.” It wasn’t wide but ran swiftly. She caught sight of some raspberry bushes, the red fruit a burst of color.

  The unspoiled land fed her soul. She’d been starving and hadn’t even realized it. The air was cooler here. She shivered. The shadows suddenly seemed ominous, a portent of things to come. She wanted to go back to the sunshine.

  The wolf’s ears twitched, and he turned toward home.

  Home was something she hadn’t had in a very long time. She’d had a place to sleep and a job to do, but her home had always been her family.

  They didn’t speak as the wolf carried her to the cabin. As before, he lay flat, allowing her to slip from his back. She was barely off when he shifted and his arms looped around her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Everything.” She clung to him. “Nothing. I don’t know. The shadows were inviting one moment and scary the next.” She inhaled the musky scent of male. It was hot and intoxicating. “I know there is much we need to discuss.”

  “Later.” He swept her into his arms and carried her up the steps and into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind him. “Thank you for accepting me.”

  “Always.” That was a promise she could keep. Nothing would come between her and Bjorn. They’d paid more dearly than most people ever had. They deserved some happiness.

  Deserves has nothing to do with anything.

  Better than anyone, she understood that fate, the gods, and the actions of others dictated what happened in a person’s life, as much or more than their own will.

  “Make me forget everything for a while.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He thrust his tongue past her lips, hungry for her. She always tasted sweet, but now there was a bitter tinge.

  Determined to make love to her in an actual bed, he got them down the hallway and placed her on the mattress. When she reached for her clothes, he stopped her. “Let me.” As much as he wanted to strip her bare and drive into her heat, he wanted to slow things down, to bring her as much pleasure as possible.

  With a nod of understanding, she lay back, willing to let him set the pace. He removed her boots first, set them aside and her phone on the bedside table. The leggings she wore clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing the strength of her long legs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and peeled them down, unwrapping her like a gift.

  Were his hands trembling?

  They were. He who had faced down the monsters of the world without blinking was left shaking before this woman.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely nothing.” Everything was finally right and that terrified him. What would he become if she were snatched from him again?

  Anja sat up and drew her tunic over her head. Her hair flowed over her torso, partially covering her breasts. “Come and love me.” She opened her arms.

  Her acceptance and welcome seeped into the dark corners of his soul, like a healing balm over a wound. “I do.” He came down beside her and brushed her hair off her chest, skimming his fingers over the full mounds. “Now and always.” Lowering his head, he took her mouth, kissing her as though he’d never have enough.

  All that he had, all that he was belonged to her, was because of her. They’d been married, had shared a life together, but that was a brief flicker of time in comparison to the years that had gone by since.

  But the love remained.

  There’d never been another woman for him once he’d laid eyes on his Anja. Other men had laughed at his refusal to take willing women when he was away from home. But he wouldn’t dishonor his wife in such a way.

  He peppered her cheeks and forehead with kisses. “I missed you so damn much.” The ache in his chest threatened to crush him. The bleakness of those days was a black hole, waiting to devour him.

  “I missed you, too. Every single day.” It hurt to think of her alone, but selfishly, he was glad she hadn’t found another. Her lush lips parted for him, inviting him to taste, consume.

  Tangling her fingers in his hair, she yanked him closer. The sheer strength of her love and commitment humbled him in a way the gods never could. When she parted her legs, he nestled tighter into the cradle of her pelvis, his cock pressing hard against her slick core. It would be so easy to slip inside.

  Not this time.

  This time he’d worship her entire body as she deserved. Supporting his weight on his forearms, he stared down at her face. Her lips were moist and swollen, her eyes partially closed, her cheeks flushed.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “You. Just you.”

  The color in her cheeks deepened. “I am nothing special, Bjorn Knutson, but you make me feel as though I am.”

  “You are the most amazing woman who ever lived.” Before she could disagree, he dragged his tongue over her collarbone, tasting the salt from her skin. The sound of her breathing catching and the small moan that came after had his balls clenching.

  This was going to be torture of the most wonderful kind.

  Determined not to rush, he sat back on his heels and cupped her breasts. They filled his palms, the pert nipples begging to be touched. When he flicked his thumbs over them, she sucked in another breath and thumped her feet against the mattress.

  “Why are you waiting?”

  “So impatient. Drawing it out will make it all the better when we finally get there.”

  “It’s been so long.” The yearning in her eyes almost broke him. Sex in the shower back at Maccus’s had been hurried, sating a physical need for each other. This was deeper, a reconnection of their bodies and minds and spirits.

  “I know.” He lowered his head and nuzzled one breast and then the other before capturing the tip between his lips.

  “Bjorn,” she gasped, arching against him, her short fingernails dragging over his shoulders.

  “I want to touch you.” He flicked the hard nub with his tongue. “Taste you.” He found the tiny birthmark beneath her breast and kissed it.

  He lost track of time as he caressed and stroked, reacquainting himself with every inch of his wife. He nuzzled her neck, nipping hard enough to mark but not break the skin. His wolf whined, wanting to claim her, to change her.

  That he would not do. He would not burden her with his curse, nor risk her life in that way.

  The shame of having changed so many innocents weighed on his soul.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” Putting his wolf on guard, he proceeded to kiss a path down her torso to her belly button, dipping into the shallow cavern with his tongue. Her hipbones were ticklish, so he nipped at them, letting her laughter chase away his worries.

  She parted her thighs, allowing him access. Burying his nose against the soft hair of her mound, he inhaled, drinking in the perfume of her arousal mixed with the saltiness of sweat and the light fragrance of the soap they’d used to shower. Beneath it all was the sweet scent of Anja.

  He stroked the sleek muscles in her thighs, pushing them apart. Her sex was pink, the folds slick and swollen with arousal. Settling between her legs, he gave himself over to what he’d been wanting to do since he’d seen her alive again.

  The first taste of her was pure ambrosia. Gods, how he’d missed this, the closeness that came from loving her.

  On a moan of pure pleasure, she arched against him. “More.”

  He gave her more. He gave her everything. There was no
part of her he didn’t taste or explore. After torturing them both until they were panting for air, he found the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex and sucked on it.

  “Yes.” She bucked against him.

  He flicked her clit and then sucked, alternating between the two until she was mindlessly moaning, the words incoherent.

  Lost in her need, she was glorious.

  His cock was about to burst. Liquid seeped from the tip. His balls were constricted.

  When he probed her opening with one finger, he was met with a groan of pleasure. She was wet and more than ready.

  “Anja.” He waited until she was focused solely on him. Then he fitted the head of his cock against her core and slowly pressed inward.

  Their eyes locked. There was no need for words. Not now.

  He kept going until he was seated to the hilt. Only then did he take a breath. Her pussy squeezed his cock so hard he had to grit his teeth to keep from spilling his seed.

  She wrapped her legs around his flanks and her arms around his neck.

  For a single heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then he pulled back and thrusted. No matter how hard, how deep he went, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to become a part of her, so he’d never be without her again.

  Fear gripped him about the throat, threatening to strangle him, to drive out the pleasure pumping through him.

  …

  Making love to Bjorn was even more exciting than riding his wolf. He was wild, his passion unfettered as he drove into her, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge. Only he affected her in this way, made her want to the point of madness.

  She clung to him, digging her fingers into the strong muscles of his back, as much to anchor her as to make sure he didn’t leave.

  Their bodies flowed, their dance both primal and earthy. She’d loved taking him into her mouth in the truck. Hearing his hoarse cries, seeing him struggling for control bolstered her confidence as a woman.

  For so long, she’d buried all her sexual needs, unwilling to indulge with any other. There was only one man for her. His cock was buried deep in her core, the throbbing of his shaft sending pulses of pleasure through her swollen sheath. But his mood had shifted. His eyes, filled with pleasure only seconds before, now brimmed with fear.

  “Don’t think about it.” She squeezed her inner muscles, hoping to distract him.

  He threw his head back, the thick cords of his neck tightening. “I don’t want this to end,” he got out from between clenched teeth.

  “Don’t let your worries steal what we have now.”

  His mouth slammed down on hers, robbing the breath from her body. Desperation and love and need combined to mark her soul.

  She ran her hands over his head and shoulders and down his back, trying to soothe his pain. Her heart was breaking for this strong man who’d endured so much, and for herself and all she’d lost. No matter what fate had decreed, they belonged together.

  This time when she flexed her inner muscles, he broke. With a roar, he grabbed her hips and began to fuck her. There was no rhythm, only a relentless need that consumed them. All she could do was hold on and ride out the storm.

  His thick cock stretched her with each inward thrust, stimulating all the sensitive nerve endings. It was almost too much, but it would never be enough. She dug her nails into his firm butt, urging him on.

  Her breathing quickened. Everything inside her tightened. He slid one of his hands between them, his thumb brushing her clit.

  The world exploded. Her vision went dark, her silent scream echoing in her mind. It was similar to being sucked into the void that had brought her here. Only this time she wasn’t alone.

  Strong hands gripped her hips so hard she’d likely have bruises. His harsh gasps sent puffs of warmth over her skin. “Anja!” He roared her name as he came, his release setting off another round of pleasure.

  Spent, he fell forward, burying his face against the curve of her neck.

  He was heavy, but she didn’t care. She’d missed this, the weight of her lover blanketing her after making love. Lying there with them both gasping for breath, their hearts pounding, the world was perfect.

  She curled her toes and idly ran her hands up and down the strong column of his back, enjoying the flex and play of the muscles beneath the pads of her fingers. Her entire body was loose, relaxed.

  Finally, Bjorn lifted his head and smiled down at her. She captured one of the thin braids that framed his face and ran the tip over her lips. A shudder ran through his big body, and his cock flexed inside her.

  “How can you still be aroused?”

  His grin was slow and sexy. “One of the perks of being what I am.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and playfully nipped his chin. “Then I’m all for it.”

  “Anja.” The kiss they shared was as soft as his whisper of her name. The brush of his short beard against her skin, the tender touch of his lips to hers brought tears to her eyes. She loved the way he was with her—passionate and unrestrained one moment, gentle and loving the next.

  This time there was regret reflected in his eyes when he lifted his head. She nodded without him having to say anything. The time to talk had come.

  They both groaned when he pulled back, separating their slick bodies. She already missed his weight and warmth. He pushed himself into a seated position, resting his back against the headboard, and opened his arms.

  “If I sit in your lap, we won’t end up talking.” She sat with her legs curled against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her nakedness didn’t bother her. It wasn’t cold. If anything, she was hot and sweaty. A shower would be most welcome, but it would have to wait.

  He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping the moisture from his beard. Not all of it was sweat. Some of it was her arousal from where he’d gone down on her. She licked her lips and suppressed a shudder.

  He made a move toward her but stopped short and swore. “I can smell your arousal.” He inhaled deeply and gave a low growl.

  “You can?” She tightened her arms around herself as tingles raced straight to her core. “Because of your wolf?”

  He nodded. “Sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell are all enhanced. Does it bother you?”

  “Not really.” She gave a shrug. “Not fair if we’re fighting and you know I’m aroused. You’ll take advantage of that.”

  He ran his fingers down the side of her face, and she turned into his touch. “Of course I will. I’m Viking.”

  She laughed. “You are that.” Like any warrior, he would use any opportunity to get what he wanted. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on you.”

  “I certainly hope so.” The tenderness in his tone brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back. It would be so easy to crawl onto his lap, taking him inside her, and make love again.

  But the world wouldn’t wait for them much longer. “What do you want to know?”

  His eyes darkened, his muscles tensed. The signs were subtle but struck her hard. The sated male vanished before her eyes, replaced by a deadly warrior who would not be denied.

  “I want to know everything.”

  …

  Bjorn wished he could wrap Anja in his arms and forget there was anyone or anything beyond their doors. They were reconnected on the most basic and primal of levels, but there was still so much he didn’t know about this amazing woman who was his wife and lover.

  “Tell me about your daily life.” The here and now was their priority, but he needed some idea of what she’d endured all these years.

  When she shrugged, a lock of her hair fell forward. Using it as an excuse to touch her, he smoothed it back over her shoulder, stroking along her back, the connection steadying them both.

  “Not much to tell. I worked in the kitchen. Even after all this time, I find it odd that dead people eat.
Maybe it’s all an illusion. But everyone is busy at something. Some train, some learn new skills or try their hand at music or painting or writing.”

  “But you worked?”

  “Yes.” She fiddled with a lock of hair, flicking it back and forth. “I prepared food. I can bake good bread now.” The impish smile she sent him made him grin.

  “No more hard or burned loaves?”

  “None. I’ve learned much from those I worked with. I didn’t mind the chores. Kept my hands busy and my mind occupied.”

  Giving her less time to dwell on all she’d lost. He understood that. He’d done much the same.

  “Did you never have time off?”

  “In the evenings, once things were readied for the following morning, I’d go out and sit in the shadows and listen to the others talk.”

  Anja had fought so hard and lost so much. While Freya’s Hall was better than Hel’s domain in Helheim, she was still being punished. “The gods offer things and then expect payment. That is no gift. That’s a trade, a bargain. Yet they couch it as though they’re being benevolent and giving when all they are doing is seeing to their own desires.”

  Anja scooted closer to him and put her hand on his leg. “It’s a trade I would gladly make a million times.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he would have done the same and more to save their sons and daughter.

  “I imagine Sven and Olaf in Valhalla among the fiercest of Odin’s warriors.” Her smile was tinged with a sadness that left him helpless. He lifted her onto his lap and hugged her close.

  “I think you’re right.” Emotion clogged his throat. “The boys grew into men in their new lives and fought and died with honor as old men. Olga had a dozen children and a man who adored her as I do her mother.”

  “Do you really think so?” She rested her hand on his chest over his heart.

  “I do. I have to.”

  “I wish—”

  “What do you wish?” If it were possible, he’d give her whatever she wanted.

  Anja shook her head. “It’s impossible, but I wished at least one of them would have remembered me and sought me out. Sven swore he would not forget.”

 

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