“There’s magic in this,” she murmured.
That confirmed my suspicions. “I know I gave you my sword, but I want to be sure you have everything you need to protect yourself in battle. A backup weapon is smart to carry.”
Her head tilted in my direction, showing she was listening, but her focus remained on the tool.
“The haft is made from your mother’s staff.”
Astrid jerked her attention to me, her eyes wide. “What?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Your father and I came up with this together. He wanted to give something special to you, that you could pass down in the family, since we were changing the sword tradition. And because the staff was so large, he thought it would be good to make a sister axe for Leif to pass down. I had no issues having both enchanted.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and my gut twisted. Did I mess up? Should I have not done this?
Astrid picked up the axe and held it close to her chest. “Thank you… Thank you…”
I walked up behind her, and pulled her into me by the hips, my chest pressing against her head. I reached up and wrapped my hand around her throat. Astrid sucked in a sharp inhale and instinctively tipped her chin up. Our gazes locked and heat ignited in my veins.
“You will have everything you could ever desire and more, Valkyrie. I’ll lay the world at your feet if you demand it.”
I leaned in and captured her lips with mine, drinking in all that she was. Astrid groaned, and the axe clattered to the table. She turned in my arms, her arms snaking around my neck. Her kisses turned fevered and demanding, matching the need breaking through my careful control.
My hands ran along the curve of her sides and hips. My fingers dug into the fabric of her dress and it tore, though not in the way it had in the past. The seams separated more easily than a typical dress, courtesy of a design Freyja helped come up with for Astrid.
Astrid had gotten tired of me ruining her dresses all the time. The final straw had been when I shredded her favorite dress after expressing she didn’t want anything happening to it. I wasn’t allowed to touch her in any way for weeks after that, even after I’d profusely apologized for losing control and bought her a host of new dresses, including a near-exact replica of the one I ruined.
Freyja allowed me to flounder for a while before revealing the new dress design and explaining to my thick head that it wasn’t just the damaged dress that was the issue. It was my lack of respect for her clear request.
I hadn’t meant to disrespect Astrid. It was just so damned hard to control myself around her. I craved her like nothing else in creation’s existence. And it didn’t help that she was so fragile. I had to be extremely careful not to hurt her. And I was fairly rough with her during sex as it was. So if her clothes were the only thing I ruined, I was happy with that.
I accepted I’d made a mistake, and worked together with Astrid to fix it and grow stronger together.
My hands gripped Astrid’s ass and lifted her onto the table. She giggled against my lips and tugged at my tunic. Our mouths parted as I complied with her request. My belt dropped to the floor and Astrid tugged down my trousers while I pulled my tunic over my head.
I dropped the clothing without care and gazed down at Astrid. She ran her fingers over my chest, feeling my scars and muscles. Her touch simmered my building desire.
I leaned in and captured her lips with mine. I slid my hand up her belly to her chest and lightly pushed. “Lie back, Astrid.”
She hummed thoughtfully, her hands teasing my skin and her breasts bumping against me, kicking up my desire to touch her more. “No, I don’t think I will.”
A low growl rumbled in my chest. A new desire hiked deep within me, pushing to fight against her.
Freyja said love and sex were their own battles. I’d never experienced that until Astrid. Some days she embraced the throes of our passion with reckless abandon. Others, she pushed back, turning it into a strength of wills. When she did, it stirred something within me as a god of war, and the explosion of passion from the drawn-out shared satisfaction was something more powerful than I thought I’d ever experience with someone. It also carried an extra effect that no mortal man could ever have.
I pushed her harder, biting her bottom lip. “Lie back, Astrid. Freyr gave me a bit of advice I want to try out.”
She chuckled and didn’t comply. Instead, she tried to glide her hands lower, toward my hips. “And what if I want to try some advice Freyja gave me?”
I snatched her hands and pinned them to the table, my mouth slanting and trailing kisses along her jaw, then down her neck. “Then you’ll have to fight me for that.”
Astrid bit her lips, suppressing the groan I knew she wanted to release. Her body betrayed her by arching—begging to be ravished in the one way I knew she enjoyed. “I can resist you.”
I chuckled against her skin and continued kissing her lower, my mouth brushing her collarbone. “No, I don’t think you can.”
Neither of us could fight each other for long, but we sure as hel tried during these moments.
I licked swaths of her delicious skin. Astrid continued to fight against the promised pleasure and her body’s craving to give in. Her stifled moans were like battle cries to my inner fighter. It drove me on, craving her surrender.
Astrid’s tipping point came when I ravished her breasts. Licking and sucking her taut, delicious nipples, I drove her to the edge of her control until she whimpered and strained against my restraining hands.
