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“You can be surrounded by people and never feel like a single one truly knows you.”
Because he had the sneaky suspicion that if he caught anyone looking at his wife the way he had just been staring at her, he’d get into a fight. He’d rip their eyes out of their head if they saw what he did, even his own brother. Those were sights for his gaze only.
He’d known it was a bad idea to be alone with her. But now that he’d discovered her ire, he found he rather liked her.
“Fear is what limits us. You can let it control your life, or you can control it. The choice is up to you.”
she also loved the first snow. When the world was blanketed in white, and all was still, she had a wonderful feeling of peace.
“Are you done?” he asked. “I guess so. I’m not happy about it, though.”
She was his to protect, his to guard. That was his purpose at the end of the day. He would bring her peace, and she would give him softness.
“You are an instrument to play. Your moans are a symphony to my ears, fire hair. Let me hear them.”
“Wife,” he said, his voice a low guttural groan. “I have need of you.”
“There’s not as much time as I’d like,” he said against her thigh. “I would’ve been gentler with you. Stretched you. Made sure you were ready for me.”
She reached between them, trailing her fingers gently along each piercing to get used to them. “They’ll feel good,” he promised, his voice a rasp. “I’ll make you feel good.”
His gaze flicked to the man still drowning in his own blood, before he spat onto the man’s body. The wad of spit stood out on the gleaming armor, now dripping with blood. “Or perhaps I should have let you live, soldier. I would have sent you back to your people missing all of your limbs, so that you could tell them what would happen if any of your people touch my wife again.”
“Hands and knees.”
“More, more, Ragnar. Please.” “Such a pretty plea.”
“Listen to me, there is something I have to say to you.” “Ragnar, there is no time–” She tried to say, but he pressed his hands over her mouth. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much. I should have said it a thousand times before this moment, and I am ashamed that I have not. I love you more than the mountains beneath our feet, my fire hair.”
