“He needs rest,” Leiva says.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I snap, clutching Beowulf’s hand to my stomach.
“He isn’t going to wake up anytime soon, Lilith.” Her eyes soften, and she reaches for my forehead. Her hands are ice cold, colder than Beowulf’s, and they don’t bring comfort. They only bring doom because that is the only thing that winter holds.
I blink, causing a fat tear to roll off my lower lash line. “I miss my sun,” I whisper, reluctantly letting his hand go. It drops easily without a fight, and I break.
I stumble back. The rail of the bed hits the small of my back. Sounds I’ve never heard come from my mouth, and I let go of all the pain. It’s animalistic. Arms around my waist pick me up and carry me away.
Away.
I hate that word.
I’m always away from him.
“Let me down.”
“Lilith, you must rest. Rian is safe with Lady Sassa.”
Rian, goddess. I forgot about him. What kind of mother am I going to be? I just ran out of the cabin without Rian. That only makes me feel worse. “Let me go. Put me down. Just put me down!” I kick and scream, but Trident just holds me through it. I don’t want his hold. I want Beowulf’s. His arms feel better, safer, warmer.
“I cannot put you down. Beowulf would kill me if I did. It’s alright, Lilith. You can cry. You can break. It’s alright.”
“None of it is alright.”
“No, it isn’t. But he is strong.” Trident’s words contradict him though, as he falls to the ground, knees slamming against the ground, but he keeps me close, so I don’t touch the snow.
“Trident!” I try to wiggle free, but his hold is too strong. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Tired.” He sways, and his eyes roll back in his head. This time, he drops like a bag of stone.
* * *
Three days. Three days I’ve waited. Beowulf is still sleeping, and Trident is in the bed next to him. He is fine but exhausted and dehydrated. He tore a few muscles in his back from carrying Beowulf, and the pain had become too much for him to take.
But I have hope that Beowulf will wake up soon. He has made it through three days. If he can do that, he can do anything. I know he will come back to me.
I feel it.
The hope pinging against my heart doesn’t hurt. It makes me happy and impatient. I’m waiting for him to open the blue eyes that send me to heaven and back. I’m ready for them to pierce my soul.
I waited for him for twelve years, but now I cannot wait another day.
I drop my head to his arm, and the hairs brush against my cheek. It’s soothing, peaceful. He is also warmer. His pulse is stronger. I’m about to drift into a peaceful dream when his fingers tighten around mine. At first, I can’t tell if it is him waking up or the dream.
“Angel?” his voice rasps.
I jerk my head up and see his eyes struggling to open. “Beowulf?”
“Am I dead? Am I in heaven?” he asks, rubbing his hoarse throat. “It would make sense since I hear you.”
I know that tears are running down my face now, but I don’t care.
“No, no, you foolish,” I kiss his lips, “stupid,” I kiss him again, “mad man. You’re back. You came back to me.”
“You asked me to. I’d do anything for you. Water?”
I nod, halfway hysterical and still asleep. Reality hasn’t hit yet. “Anything you want. Anything, my love.” I reach for the wooden mug and hold his head up as I place the rim against his mouth. A few droplets of water fall on his beard, but he gulps it down like a man coming back from the dead.
His head falls back on the pillow, and he lifts a brow suggestively. “Anything?” he lowers his voice, and with the soft scratch of sleep and being unused for the last few days, the tone is deeper, sending shivers up my spine.
I smile with complete glee and roll my eyes. “You would want sex after waking up from near death, you brute.”
“What man wouldn’t?” Trident coughs. “Glad to see you’re awake, brother.”
“Trident, are you hurt?” Beowulf tries to sit up, but the gash in his stomach prevents him. He growls with pain and places his hand on his stomach.
“Better shape than you. You worried us,” Trident says.
“It’s going to take a lot more than a Jackal blade to put me down. Jackals.” He remembers, his brows furrowed. “Did we win? What happened?”
“Aye, we lost a few men. But for every man we lost, we took twenty of theirs. And Sir Troy took his wife’s head. No love lost there, I suppose.” Trident settles his head against the pillow.
“No,” Beowulf and I say at the same time in shock.
“Oh, that man is mad. I never want to be near that man when he has a blade. Ever. Leiva?” Trident changes the subject quickly, which is fine with me because all I want to do is look into Beowulf’s eyes staring back at me.
“My sun is back to keep me warm,” I smile, feathering my fingers over his cheek and relishing in his warmth. Warmth means he is alive. And nothing makes me feel more alive than the sun.
Epilogue
Beowulf
It’s been eight months of waiting for my babe to be born, but at least I got to marry Lilith during that time. Still, the months have been… difficult, to say the least. Eight long months. She is due any day, but the stubborn child doesn’t seem to want to come out of the safe place of his mother’s womb.
Lilith is tired, grouchy, and emotional. Goddess, the tears. I have no idea how a woman can produce so many. She cries at everything. A flower bloomed the other day, and a buzzing bee landed on the pink petals, and she burst into tears about how beautiful it was to see.
I need that little babe to pop out of his mother’s stomach now so the mad woman can rest. The one thing about pregnancy though, that I’ve really, really loved, is how much my woman wants my cock.
Day. Night. Afternoon. Fucking tea time. Whatever it is. She wants it, and she is always ready. There has been times when my cock is raw, and my balls hurt from coming so much, but I’d never let that stop me from giving my woman what she wants when she is in need and carrying my son, nonetheless. It’s the least I can do.
And goddess, my angel looks beautiful pregnant. Her belly is so round and flawless. She walks barefoot in the kitchen, and all I can think about is how she shines like she is the sun.
“Good morning,” she says with a tone that suggests it’s about to be a really great fucking morning. “Oh, looks like someone is ready for me,” she purrs.
“I’m always ready for you,” I grunt. She rips the fur off my lower body to get a good look at what she does to me.
“I can’t wait to—”
She suddenly stops mid-sentence. I nod, waiting for her to explain.
“Can’t wait to what, Angel?”
“My water broke.”
“I know. The babe will come soon, you will see. I can help with that, you know.”
“No, Beowulf—” Her eyes round, and she nearly collapses on top of me as one hand holds her stomach. A quick sweat breaks out over her brows. She cries out, and it is a sound like nothing I have ever heard. Some mix of agony and excitement and happiness and shock. “My water. The baby. The baby is coming.”
I pull the blanket off the bed completely and see a puddle of water under her. “We need to get you to Leiva. Now.” I wrap her in a fur and throw on my pants, not bothering with a shirt since it is summer now. It’s fucking hot outside, and my poor woman has to give birth in this heat, my poor angel.
“Rian! Rian, come on. Your…” I almost said brother or sister is about to be born, but I keep my mouth shut. Rian calls me Uncle Beowoof still, so saying it is his brother or sister may trigger something in him I can’t handle today. “Lilith is in labor. We need to go.” I shout, and his patter of feet against the wooden planks get closer and closer until he is standing in front of me with wide eyes.
“Is mommy Lilith okay?” he asks with worried eyes and an open
jaw.
“Aye, little man. We must go now, right?”
“No,” Lilith digs her nails into my arm, and her jaw is so tight, I wonder if the bone is about to break. “I’m not going to make it,” she screams. “Put me down. Put me down.”
I do what she says and unwrap the fur and spread her legs. “Goddess, the head is right there.” I keep my mouth shut about how painful it looks. I don’t want to sleep outside with the wolves for the rest of my life.
“Rian,” I kneel on the ground and have to shake him a little to get his attention. “You must run and get Leiva. Can you do that?”
He nods fast. “I can do it, Uncle Beowoof. Pwomise.”
I love this boy. “Go. Hurry.” I push him out the door, and he nearly trips. Well, he does trip, but he gets up quickly and runs straight for the castle. Moments like this are when I regret us not living in the castle, but Lilith insists that she loves this cabin and refuses to go anywhere.
Running my hand through my hair, I settle between Lilith’s legs and hold my hands near the opening. I have no idea what I’m doing, but Lilith seems to know her body well. Her stomach tightens, and she pushes. With every push and scream and raking of nails down my arm, the head comes out further.
“Look at all that dark hair!” I say with tears in my eyes. This is my child. Our child. Something that has been in the making for far too long. Our future is here. It’s finally fucking here.
“You can do it, Angel. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong,” I croon to her.
She flops on the bed, exhausted, sweating, and gasping for air. The baby is almost out. The head is out.
“I can’t. It hurts,” she sobs, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyes.
I kiss her knee and shake my head with disagreement. “I love you. You can do it. You’re almost there. The head is out. Come on, Angel.”
Her stomach ripples again and she pushes down with a scream. Slowly, the head protrudes from the wide opening, and once the shoulders are out, I wrap my hands around the small body and tug him free, hoping to ease her pain. She groans with relief, and I hold the babe in my arms. He is bloody and covered in white mucus, but he is beautiful.
“We have a son,” I choke and lift him to his mother’s arms. She deserves to hold him right now. All I need to do is appreciate my family, my luck at a second chance, and my angels.
“I’m here,” Leiva hits the door frame and drops her satchel when she sees that the baby made it into the world without her.
I kiss the side of Lilith’s damp hair and breathe her in. She still smells of the sun. “What shall we name him?”
She lays her head on my shoulder, and his small hand wraps around her finger, making her cry. “Angelo because I think the reason you have always called me Angel was because of him. The life we have always wanted. The dream we have always shared, Beowulf. It’s here. And he is everything I dreamed he would be and more.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I never thought I’d have everything I ever wanted. Not when life’s cruelty took it from me before. I fell in love with Lilith in the sun.
And I’ll love her forever for giving me one.
THE END
* * *
Click here to read Eirarr & Thyra’s story in The Viking’s Wedding now.
Big, gruff, dominant… and utterly dangerous.
Einarr Thor is a beast of a man. A beautiful savage.
The fierce Viking Warlord wants me to be his bride.
And there’s nothing he won’t do to have me.
I should fear him, resist him.
Yet, I want him, and I crave his touch.
The wildest part?
I ended up saying “ I do ”, and vowing myself to him.
Marrying a brutish warrior is insane.
He’s fearsome and wild.
And not to mention we’re different in every way.
But I know there’s more to him than just a killer.
He’s a man that will do anything for me and our unborn child.
A man that will guard, protect, and defend his family, at all cost.
Click here to read The Viking’s Wedding now.
About the Author
A writer, mom, and a lover of all things romance.
Jessica Knight loves to spend her free time crafting stories and writing about different characters into her journal. With a lot of nudging, pushing, and help from her best friend. She decided to share her romance stories with the rest of the world.
When she’s not busy wrangling kids or taking care of her household. She finds herself lost in writing. Deep in the world that she created.
Get Your Free Copy of Viking's Claim.
Also by Jessica Knight
The Viking’s Wedding
The Viking’s Bride
Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3) Page 24