Between Mortals and Makers

by Tyranni Thomas

  I had wanted that wine since I learned he had it, but I didn’t give a fuck about the liquor now.

  My lips tingled, and I ached to feel his body snug against mine. To care for nothing except the smell of him around me and the feel of his palms guiding my body. I wanted to dive into the scent and surrender to him.

  I wanted more.

  I killed my own drink, stood up, and slid a knee beside his thigh. He looked at me like I’d lost my mind when I brought my other knee up to straddle him. His lips parted and he slowly sucked air between his teeth.

  “Zhenni,” he quietly but firmly strained.

  “Thorne,” I lulled, so close I could feel the warmth of his wine-sweetened breath.

  We stared into each other’s eyes, and so many things grew within me. The need to be touched and loved. To belong again, if one could say I ever had.

  When his hands settled at either side, I leaned forward and placed my hands over his, encouraging him to slide his thumb lower while I rocked my hips.

  I had gone from hesitant to urgent, and there was no going back. Nothing in Galena could have peeled me from him. I wanted him, without a stitch or a secret. My nails scraped down his shoulder. He hissed against the hollow of my neck and brought his mouth back to mine. I flicked my tongue over his lips and bit the lower one when he gasped in response.

  His thumbs slid down my slit and gently danced around my clit. Every stroke caused my breath to hitch. He took inventory of every gasp with a knowing smile and a soul-searching gaze. Rather than shying from him, I found my knees falling apart, and my hips rolling to chase his touch.

  My hair was taken, and my head encouraged back. His stubbled mouth skimmed down my throat and fingers sank into me. They created a fullness that left my core clenched. My thighs shook, and I curled his tunic into my hands.

  “Don’t fight it,” he whispered throatily. I gasped, unsure of what would happen if I gave in to the sensations. His fingers curled, and my thoughts shattered. My body convulsed, and my cunt milked around his fingers while every nerve in my body deliciously came to life.

  That had never happened before. Not that I had much experiences with such things. It was mostly a matter of them fumbling around and panting atop me.

  He was still dressed, or so I thought, until his cock pressed against my folds. The hand in my hair eased its grip and slowly started to caress the back of my head. His mouth tormented my own, painting my lazy smile with another kiss or three. He nipped at my jaw and captured my earlobe in his mouth

  “Lift up, just a little,” he quietly whispered.

  My fingers tensed in his shirt. Memories of those boring, painful encounters stilled me, before I raised my hips as he asked. I held my breath waiting to be jerked down or assaulted, but it didn’t happen. His hands continued to worship the length of my long-tangled hair, and he stared up at me like I was a goddess.

  His head lowered, and a warm suction settled against a nipple. It alternated with stubble and teeth, before being dutifully and lovingly lapped. After a few moments, I slowly relaxed and hesitantly lowered myself. The crown of his cock threatened with a pressure so sweet, it almost broke me again. I held myself over it, still baffled by the contrast between the man’s size and his gentleness. A subtle shift of my hips sent his head back.

  The noises that spilled from his lips weren’t gentle this time, they were fucking feral.

  “Fuck,” he gasped, only to open his mouth in shock when I lifted back up, playfully threatening a denial. My ability to control his very breath amused me. Every time I allowed my cunt to kiss and consider his puffy crown, his breath became more strained. Eventually, it was nothing but the tortured sound of air being sucked through gritted teeth.

  “Zhenni,” he whispered, curling into me. It was what decided his fate, really. That one little word said with his accent and that hint of pleading was all it took for me to lodge him as deep as I could. The pressure and fullness rushed through me. It sent shock waves of delicious tingles. All the hesitancy was gone; in its place was a carnal greed that knew no shame. Gyrating without mercy, I began to arch into my fisted hair.

  I did it to torture him, but once I leaned back and he balanced my hips, that tingle I had worked into a throb was turned on me. He met my grinding with a fierce thrust that sent a chill up my back. Our bodies grazed until the friction tightened my nipples into prominent little beads. I began to thrash atop him, chasing the pleasure until my thighs were screaming at me for mercy.

  His grip tightened in my hair, and he thrust up again, not allowing me to retreat. I began to cry out, unaware that it was even happening. Until he pinned me against him, clamped his hand over my mouth and watched the orgasm rock through me. The man smiled like he had just claimed the greatest victory in history while he commanded my hips in his calloused palms.

  He didn’t rush to move me, to remove himself, or any of that. He held me tightly against him and rested his forehead against mine. The air kissed my half bared back until I nuzzled in tighter. A damp weight pressed against my head and I heard the seal of a kiss.

  “You were unfamiliar but not untouched...” he pointed out. His voice had fallen to a whisper that told me he likely knew the answer.

  I squirmed until my head rested beneath his jaw, unsure if I wanted to bare that much of myself. The thought almost made me laugh. I had shared my body with the man, surely, I could share my past.

  “It is true.” I closed my eyes, suddenly unable to offer more than a confirmation. Solitary darkness was the worst thing that could have been done. Visions of Domhain overwhelmed me. The scent of his bitter, fermented brew and unwashed hair was so real I couldn’t find Thorne anymore. There was no sea, or sweet wine, only the stale painful reality of my abuse. His dark hair and beady eyes would haunt me to the grave, I had no doubts.

  His fingers pressed a few tendrils of hair behind my ear, and I felt the sudden lingering pressure of his lips on the top of my head.

  “I didn’t….” I stammered as he strummed my back with large firm strokes. His touch chased away the anxiety and rooted me back to the present. “It wasn’t of my choosing before. It wasn’t… like this,” I shakily offered.

  I wasn’t sure how to tell him the truth of Domhain. He was a monster. A man with two faces. And yet he had been Cairn’s heart. He had been our provider and the man I had called Father, despite having seen him snuff the life from the man who helped create me.

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to say anything further. He stood with my legs still around him and carried me toward the clothes line. He ripped a fur from it and tossed it to the ground. He lowered me to it and settled beside me. With his head propped up and his eyes locked on mine, I could see the questions he held at bay.

  “Is there a risk that this coupling without your choosing will happen again, or is that a trouble left in Olaf’s Fjord?” His words were chosen and delivered with care.

  I shook my head without elaborating, which only caused him to tilt his own in further question.

  “I will kill him...” he offered after a moment of two of silent reflection.

  “You’re too late,” I whispered, placing a kiss to his cheek before curling against his side. “Cairn already did.”

  Chapter Six

  Where the Blame Falls

  Zhenni

  Something thumped repetitively. It broke through the fog of my slumber enough that I realized Thorne was still lying beside me. His stubble brushed against me as he turned toward the sound of hurried footsteps. Whoever it was, they were approaching faster than we could untangle ourselves and get to our feet.

  Osanna’s giggles caused me to blush so brightly I was thankful for the still thick darkness. Sven and Thane were right on her heels.

  “You have to come. It’s Mother,” Thane rambled. “She’s sick, something serious. Burning up and half delirious.” His attention pivoted between me and Thorne.

  A slew of curses carried Thorne past him, but Thane remained locked in place
.

  “Will you come?” he asked.

  I may not have, but his voice broke and it tore at my heart. I left my wounded pride and prickly nerves behind and nodded my consent.

  “Wait… she doesn’t like me. What if…” I rambled in afterthought.

  “She doesn’t like anyone. It doesn’t matter she’s out of her fucking mind with the fever. She won’t know you from Freya at this point,” Thane assured.

  “Take your sister inside and go back to sleep. I will send breakfast for you both in the morning.” I waved my hand before either of them could object, then followed Thane toward their cabin.

  The soft glow of candles and hearth lit the room. It was cozy and decorated rather nicely. Horns were fashioned over the doorways, and vivid rugs littered the floor. Thorne hovered over a stack of furs in the back of the cabin, while an older looking man slept near the hearth. He glanced over his shoulder, looking somewhat perturbed by the fuss over the woman but held his tongue.

  I motioned for Thane to get some water from the hearth and moved toward the back. The woman on the furs glistened with sweat. Her face was flushed, and she tossed her head back and forth while uttering nonsense. Every time Thorne tried to pull the covers back so I could get a look at her, she shivered violently and fought to keep them.

  “How long has she been like this?” Thorne asked.

  “She came back saying she felt poorly…” Alexavier began.

  “Came back from where?” Thorne stopped him.

  “Gunnar’s place,” Thane explained. “She’s been pissy on account of you not being here for dinner. Truth is, she’s just angry she can’t control you… but anyhow, yeah. She’s been stalking off to the ale house in the evenings.”

  Thorne’s face crinkled, and he shook his head, staring at his brother like he was insane. “Mother doesn’t drink. She hates it when the old man does, why the fuck…?”

  Thane’s shoulders came up in a quick defensive shrug, and he held his hands out in front of him.

  “It’s true. She’s been real funny-acting lately,” Alexavier attested.

  The woman’s neck jerked violently to the right. If she had just a breath more force behind it, she might have snapped her own neck. She began to froth and convulsed again while her sons panicked around her. Thorne tried to lift her, which only inspired another bout of flailing. Her hand curled tightly, and the spastic limbs pummeled him as he fought to still her.

  “Stop! You must lay her down. Let it pass.” All three looked at me like I was mad. I shook my head and insistently repeated my instructions. “The only threat is if it doesn’t pass or she strikes her head while in the throes of it.”

  Alexavier swatted Thorne out of the way with the back of his fingers and soothingly smoothed her hair until her limbs went limp and the seizure had passed. Thane’s kettle of water lay on the floor nearby, but I couldn’t find any injury or wound to hold liable. Still, she was violently ill. I feared what would happen if I did not administer a tonic, and yet I prayed to the Goddess that it was even enough to be beneficial.

  “I’ve heard there are sicknesses that we do not know in these lands. I will do everything I can to help her with what we have, but if it doesn’t work, we may have to send for a healer that’s more familiar with these parts.”

  “You’re a healer?” Thane asked, his face reflecting the astonished tone.

  I raised my shoulders ever so slowly. “Cairn was good at healing. I only watched and helped when needed. I have her potions, though. The tonics,” I corrected.

  “Do you want me to fetch them? I could check on the children,” Alexavier offered.

  I glanced between the three of them and thoughtfully stared at them in silence. They were nothing like Einar and Domhain. None of them. I smiled and laughed at my own awkward delay before nodding. “In the corner, behind the table is a small trunk…”

  He was already gone, leaving my words to fall onto the wind, the door left open behind him. Even if he had been within hearing range, it wouldn’t have mattered; my instructions were drowned by the chorus of filth that spewed from his father’s furs. Heavy steps followed the cursing. Moments later, the door slammed shut with a nasty thud.

  “Grumpy old bastard.” Thane snorted.

  I ran the back of my hand over their mother’s brow. It was scalding hot. Beads of sweat formed and trickled freely down her full cheeks. Her arms were clammy and pale beneath my touch.

  “He is tired, an early morning perhaps?” I offered, trying to keep the mood light. Another snort was all I got in response.

  “Ya have no room to talk, Thane. You inherited his charming demeanor.” Thorne smiled.

  The door tipped open and Alexavier hauled the trunk in, leaving the door wide in his wake. Furs flapped rapidly in the other room. Footsteps thundered across the front room. The door banged as it was thrown wide and connected with the wall behind it.

  Without a word, his father hurled a fur outside and jutted his thumb after it. My jaw hung unchecked. Had he just thrown his son out for seeing to his wife’s health?

  “I… uh. I think I will sleep on your porch and keep an ear out for the young ones,” Alexavier humbly explained, before turning for the door.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Sleep inside with the children near the hearth,” I insisted. I delivered a farewell squeeze to his arm and was rewarded with a sheepish smile. He left without bothering to grab the door or the fur his father had hurled into the dirt.

  “Useful as tits on a boar. All three of ‘em,” the old man scoffed before nearly taking the door off the hinges.

  I giggled, unable to process it all and poured a bit of the tonic between the sick woman’s parted lips. She looked different when her face was relaxed. I had never seen her mouth in anything but a tight scowl.

  “What is that?” Thorne whispered.

  “It is a tonic that Cairn sometimes gave the men when their wounds irritated and festered.”

  “Ah!” they both exclaimed, as if I were suddenly speaking in their native tongue.

  We ladled a few sips of water into her and held her head up so she didn’t choke.

  I spent the night at her bedside. Each hour, I changed the cool cloths that I hoped would bring her an edge of comfort.

  I dozed now and then, until the rooster cried. For a moment, I thought perhaps I had dreamed the sound, but a quick glance toward the hearth revealed the old man’s empty furs.

  I rubbed my eyes and slowly made my way toward the window. The steady sound of wood being chopped made me smile before I even spotted Thane laboring away. Across the path, Alexavier hopped around with the children. It looked like they had nearly finished with the chores for both homes.

  The door squeaked, and I whirled about, startled somewhat by the sound. Thane’s dimpled grin stared back at me, a small package of sausage offered out before him. It was the first time I had seen him without a weapon.

  “Had a late start on the traps. Didn’t want to sit out waiting in case we had to haul her to Galena,” he explained, nodding toward Trysta’s room. “But I went ahead and traded a bit of firewood for a small portion of sausage, and Alexavier has the children gathering eggs…”

  “Gravy and eggs, it is then.” I smiled.

  Relief flooded his features and he chuckled softly. “My brother was right about you.”

  I froze, and goosebumps raced down my arms. Thorne was speaking of me?

  “What exactly did your brother say?” I finally managed.

  I took pains to carefully open the package. I would have done anything to act as if I weren’t waiting with bated breath for his answer.

  “He said you are a good woman, and he’s of a mind that you’re meant to mother many children.”

  My mouth split into a smile before I could contain it, but it fell just as fast when I realized my value was equated by my womb.

  I turned toward the stove and set to cooking breakfast. In no time at all, the lodge began to fill with mouthwatering aromas. Alexav
ier brought the children in and directed them to the water bucket. It made my heart sing to see all of them shuffling around. It felt like a family.

  Ulfr left after shoveling his food into his mouth as quickly and quietly as he could. It was nauseating to watch him inhale the nutrients without even giving himself time to taste any of it.

  I sipped a bit of tea and watched them enjoy their breakfast before tipping my head in silent gesture toward Alexavier. He lifted from the bench and followed me conspiratorially toward the door.

  “Your mother’s fever is breaking, but she is not yet waking. It still rages until she sweats at night. I hoped we could go and find some leeches this morning to aid the tonic.”

  He squinted and stared like he was waiting on me to laugh. “Leeches. Like the squishy…”

  I nodded. “The very same.”

  “Right…” He motioned toward the door with one hand while smoothing his braid with the other, that scrunched-up disgusted expression never wavered from his handsome features.

  Relief flooded through me. I hadn’t been sure if I would be able to round up the help or not, and I really hadn’t wanted to think about going into the woods alone. I was okay with the thought of Thane being there, but I had seen Einar go into the forest before too, so only the Goddess knew what else could be found in the desolate hills.

  “I just need to stop by the shed a moment. Einar has a tool I think will work.” I hurriedly made my way toward the back of Einar’s yard. The shed was tiny and stuffed full of effects that were arranged in no particular order. I had no idea what the tool was, but I had noticed it when he carried it up. It looked like something that might be good for straining food, only it was a bit thicker. It had a handle on it and smelled of spoiled fish. It would do, but it needed a lid.