"Perhaps... but my brother was only twenty-four when he was slain by our enemies. I will never forget the look on his son Bironulf's young face when he saw his father fall in battle. All I could think of was saving the boy."
"Obviously you did."
"Aye. I swore I would never let Bironulf die as his father had. All his life, I kept him safe and he died an old man, in his sleep. Peacefully." He paused for a moment. "I guess in the end I do follow my mother's beliefs more than those of my father. The Norse believed in dying young in battle so that we could enter the halls of Valhalla, but like my mother, I wanted a different fate for those I loved. 'Tis a pity I came to understand her feelings far too late."
Wulf shook his head as if to banish those thoughts. He frowned at her. "I can't believe I'm thinking of this while I have such a beautiful maid with me. I am truly growing old when I would rather talk than take action," he said with a deep laugh. "Enough of my morbid thoughts."
He pulled her forcefully against him. "Now why are we wasting our time when we could be spending it much more productively?"
"Productively how?"
His smile was wicked, warm, and it devoured her. "I am thinking my tongue could be put to much better use. What say you?"
He ran said member up the column of her throat until he could nibble her ear. His warm breath scorched her neck, causing her to shiver.
"Oh yeah," she breathed. "I'm thinking that is a much better use of your tongue."
He laughed while he unlaced the back of her gown. Slowly, seductively, he pulled it from her shoulders and let it fall straight to the floor. The fabric slid sensuously against her flesh as it left her body and cold air caressed her.
Naked before him, she couldn't suppress a deep tremble. It was so odd to be exposed while he stood before her wearing his armor. The firelight played in his dark eyes.
Wulf stared at the unadorned beauty of the woman before him. She was even more luscious than she had been the last time he'd dreamed of her. He ran his hand tenderly over her breast, letting the nipple tease his palm.
She reminded him of Saga, the Norse goddess of poetry. Elegant, refined. Gentle. Things he had spurned as a mortal man.
Now he was captivated by her.
He still didn't know why he had confided in her. It wasn't like him to speak so freely, and yet she had lured him.
But he didn't want to make love to her here. Not in the past where his memories and guilt over those he had failed slashed at him.
She deserved better than this.
Closing his eyes, he conjured them into a facsimile of his modern bedroom. Only he made a few modifications...
Cassandra gasped as she pulled back slightly and looked around. The walls surrounding them were reflective black with white trim, except the wall to her right, which was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. The open windows were framed by gauzy white curtains that fluttered in the wind, reaching out toward them and making the candlelight from dozens of candles in the room dance.
But the candles didn't go out. They twinkled all around them like stars.
There was a large bed in the center of the room, up high on a raised platform. It had black silk sheets and a thick black silk duvet over a down comforter. The bed was made of ornate ironwork that formed an intricate square canopy between the four posts. More of the white gauzy material was wrapped around it and was left to twist in the wind.
Wulf was naked now. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the huge, welcoming bed.
Cassandra sighed as she felt the soft mattress under her while Wulf's weight pressed down on her from above. It was like being pressed into a cloud.
Looking up, she laughed as she realized there was a mirror on the ceiling, and she saw that Wulf was holding a long-stemmed rose behind his back.
The walls flashed, then they too became mirrors.
"Whose fantasy is this?" she asked as Wulf brought the rose forward and brushed its soft petals over the swollen nipple of her right breast.
"Ours, blomster" Wulf said as he parted her thighs and laid his large body between her legs.
She moaned at the rich sensation of having all his lush power lying over her. The masculine hairs of his body teased hers into an overload of sensual ecstasy.
He moved over her sinuously, like some dark, forbidden beast who was out to consume her.
Cassandra watched him move in the mirror above her. How odd that she had created him in her dreams. She'd always been so cautious in her life. So careful of whom she let touch her. So she had conjured a glorious lover in her subconscious whereas she dared not allow one in real life.