20. Draknir

The kiss is unlike anything I could have expected. She is sweet and tender, her mouth is a warm welcome for the feelings I"m just now noticing exist within my chest. Should I be in love with her already? By gods I don't care. She opens for me, blossoming into the kiss as her shyness melts away.

"Kathleen," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. The rumbling gravel of my voice surprises me. The kiss has left me heady as I speak against her lips, my breath comes in pants.

She gazes up at me, her brown eyes wide with a mix of fear and something softer, warmer. Her breath hitches, and I can almost taste her anticipation.

"Draknir?" She"s unsure, hesitant, and gods, it makes me want to shield her from every shadow in this accursed place.

I lean down, my decision as resolute as steel. "This is all worth it," I murmur against her lips before I kiss her once more.

The world narrows to the press of her mouth against mine, soft and yielding. She kisses me back, her hands finding their way to my shoulders, clinging to me.

I drink her in, the feel of her lips, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. It"s too fast, too soon. I want to take my time, but now that I've got my hands on her, now that I can taste her, I can't stop. Not when it comes to her.

We break apart, breathless, and everything comes back into sharp focus—the watching eyes, the murmurs, the tension of a thousand unspoken thoughts.

"Enough!" My voice cuts through the gardens, silencing the whispers. I stand tall, despite the ache of old wounds and the fresh ones that sting my skin. "By the laws of our lands and the rites we"ve just undergone, we are wed. But don"t think for one heartbeat that I"ll let any of you watch the proof of our consummation."

Outrage meets my declaration. It buzzes like a hornet"s nest disturbed, a cacophony of shock and anger. I don"t care. Let them be outraged. I"m not some beast for their entertainment.

"Privacy is our right," I continue, meeting each glare with defiance etched into my features. "You will respect it, or answer to me."

They know I mean every word. I"ve spilled blood for less.

As the crowd begrudgingly disperses, I turn to Kathleen, my chest tight. Gods, what am I doing? She"s so delicate beside me, so out of place in this world of iron and blood.

"Kathleen," I start, my voice a low rumble, "if I"ve overstepped?—"

"No," she interrupts, her voice small but certain. "You haven"t."

There"s a courage in her eyes that fans the flames of my respect. I"ve seen men thrice her size with less bravery. I nod once, fiercely proud of her, and fiercely protective.

"Come," I say, offering my hand. "Let"s leave this place behind."

One of my father's men lets out an angry scoff, a sound laced with contempt as he eyes me, his glare as sharp as the knife he"s been known to wield. My body is a canvas of bruises and cuts, a testament to battles fought and barely won, but it"s the look in his eyes that tries to cut deeper than flesh.

"Men," he barks, turning on his heel with a swirl of his dark cloak, "we"re leaving."

I watch them go, their heavy boots kicking up dust that mingles with the dying light. They leave like a storm receding, and I can"t help but feel relief mixed with a sour twist of victory. It"s fleeting, this moment of peace, as the weight of what comes next presses down upon me.

I want Kathleen more than I've wanted anyone.

But it's…difficult. I've never cared for anyone else before. It's overwhelming. Never in my life have I been more frightened. I love Kathleen, but I could lose her.

I've never had anyone to lose before, not since my mother.

Nightfall comes uninvited, swift, and cloaked in shadows that mirror the thoughts racing through my mind. Dinner with Kathleen is a quiet affair, the silence punctuated by the clink of silverware and the crackle of the hearth. I sense her tension, mirroring my own, as the space between us fills with an electric charge, unseen yet undeniable.

The thrum of want rumbles through my body at a pace I could not have anticipated. When I propositioned Kathleen, the emotions I am experiencing weren't a thought in my mind. It"s fitting that the lack of these feelings is the very reason I have never found a mate.

"Kathleen," I say, voice rough like gravel, "this night... it doesn"t have to be what they expect. I—I stopped them from watching, yes, but if you"re not ready?—"

Her eyes, wide and luminous, lock onto mine. There"s a universe within them, swirling with emotions I can scarcely read. She nods, and I"m left wondering if she truly understands the magnitude of my words.

We ascend the stairs to the master bedroom, each step heavy with the weight of duty and desire. The door shuts behind us with a decisive click, sealing us away from the world and its prying eyes.

"Draknir," she whispers, her voice a tender note in the silence. "I..."

"Shh," I reply, stepping closer. "No words are needed, not now."

The room is still, save for our breathing, a rhythm that syncs and separates as we stand on the precipice of something intimate and unknown. I am a warrior, sculpted by strife, yet here I am, filled with trepidation at the thought of a simple touch, of crossing the chasm between obligation and want.

"Are you certain?" My question hangs in the air, a plea for assurance, for a sign that my desires are not one-sided, that she too feels this pull, this need that goes beyond duty.

In response, she closes the distance, her warmth radiating against my skin. Her courage astounds me, a flame that refuses to be snuffed out by the darkness of our circumstances. And with that, the last barriers crumble, and we are simply two souls reaching for connection in a world that has offered us little kindness.

"Draknir," she begins, her voice a threadbare whisper, "I know what is expected." Her gaze flicks down, then back to mine, a silent struggle scribed across her features. "You can," she pauses, her mouth struggling to form the words she wants. "Command me.", she says after some hesitation.

"No," I whisper fiercely, closing the distance until I can feel the hesitant heat of her breath. "It"s not about commands. Not this. You must want it, as I do."

Her brow creases in disbelief. "You want this?" The question hangs wrapped in innocence.

I nod. A simple gesture, weighted with the gravity of a thousand wars yet fought. She"s so delicate and small. A fearful thought intrudes upon my need.

What if I break her?

"Kiss me." Kathleen whispers, the certainty of her voice spurs the pounding of my heart against my ribs.

"What?" I ask, her question breaks me from my thoughts.

"I said kiss me. Like you did before." She breathes against my mouth, her voice a tether that binds me to the here, the now.

For a moment, all I can do is stare. This woman, Kathleen, who should be nothing more than another responsibility, another task on my endless list, dares to defy the roles we"ve been given. She stands before me, not as an object to be protected or a token to be displayed, but as a force unto herself, demanding to be seen, to be heard.

A growl rumbles deep within me, a primal sound that feels both foreign and familiar. It"s the sound of chains breaking, of orders being questioned. I step closer, close enough to feel the swell of her breasts against my chest. Our breath mingles in the space between us, creating a tempest that could sweep away the foundations of everything I know.

I pull her to me, resting my hand on her lower back. She timidly presses her body into mine, tilting up her face to look in my eyes. There is a nervousness in them, reflecting my same hesitation back to me. But I also see the want, I possess looking at me through her eyes.

I dip my mouth to hers, slowly brushing her lips against mine. She inhales sharply and I pause, giving her the chance to back out. When she parts her lips in invitation, it's all I can do to stop myself from devouring her on the spot.

As our mouths meet, the world narrows to the point of singularity. There is no camp, no duty, no looming threat—only the taste of her lips, the press of her body against mine, and the shared breath of two souls entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

"Draknir," she says, and there"s an edge to her voice, one that doesn"t belong to the shy creature who"s looked after her kin with such quiet tenacity. This is someone new, someone daring.

Her taste is intoxicating, a mix of fear and courage, and it lights up something primal within me. The room fades, the sounds of the camp beyond these walls dim, and all that exists is the feel of her body pressed to mine, the heated exchange of kisses that speak louder than any words could.

As we kiss, the warmth of her lips consumes me. Her small hands find their way to my waist, tentatively tracing the fabric of my tunic before sliding upwards to grip my shirt. She pulls me closer, and I can feel her breath against my neck as she moans softly.

Her tongue darts out to trace the seam of my lips, and I part them willingly, welcoming her inside. I press my body against hers, feeling the soft curves that make up her figure mold against mine. It"s as if we were always meant to fit together like this; our hearts beat in unison as we kiss deeper yet again.

Her fingertips glide up from my waist to grasp at my shoulders, digging into the skin lightly as she loses herself in the moment beneath us. A soft whimper escapes from her throat as she runs her nails down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake – awakening something within both of us.