Weaving Fate - Nora Ash Page 0,53

every frantic pulse of my blood, forever altering my essence, my very DNA. His name turned sweet on my tongue as emotions that weren’t my own flooded my system, bathing me in bone-deep satisfaction and raw ecstasy.

The giant alpha kept my neck locked in the grip of his jaw until his thick cock had deposited every drop of his seed deep in my body, thumbing my clit to wring another orgasm from my exhausted pussy.

Only when he had no more left to give did he release my neck and slide his hand from my clit to my hip. He peppered my shoulders with kisses, his beard tickling my skin as he murmured my name over and over.

Pleasure sang in my mind and in my chest, a sharp contrast to the unpleasant throb where Modi’s bond was anchored. Behind that was the constant anguish from the mate bonds tying me to the men I'd left in Valhalla.

“Annabel.” It was a soft rumble—so intimate it clutched at my quivering heart.

Love, raw and pure, welled up from that fresh bond dug deep into my chest.

Love.

Bjarni loved me, and as I lay tied to him by his knot and this new bond, there was nothing either of us could do to hide that fact.

This was how a mating bond was supposed to work, only instead of elation, instead of comfort, his love only brought into sharp, agonizing distinction how my three other claimings had been nothing like this. How even in the arms of a man who loved me, I’d never be whole again.

I sobbed before I could stop myself, sorrow and hurt drowning out the pleasure of Bjarni’s embrace.

“Annabel? Annabel!” Shock colored my alpha’s voice and throbbed in our bond. He wound his arms underneath me, pulling me in tight against his chest. “Shh, please, don’t cry. Please, please, don’t cry.”

And then… then our bond flooded with the worst sensation of them all: regret.

“I’m sorry. Sweetie, I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling against my ear. “Oh, gods, what have I done?”

Nineteen

Modi

I was pulled from unconsciousness by the most unpleasant yank from something tender and unyielding anchored in my chest.

Groaning, I fought gravity to force my eyelids open. My vision was blurry and took a moment to refocus.

I stared up into a cracked ceiling, and I was lying on some form of hard surface.

A floor, Modi. If you’re staring at a ceiling, it’s probably a floor.

My nose throbbed, as did the rest of my head, and I groaned again, wanting nothing more than to sink back into sweet oblivion.

A woman's sobbing broke through the low hum in my ears, pushing away any and all thoughts of passing out as that awful thing in my chest spasmed again, shooting a bolt of adrenaline right to my brain.

“Annabel, please, please stop crying.” A male voice laced with desperation mixed with the sobs.

Bjarni.

I bolted upright, cursing my vision momentarily blurred again. When it faded, my heart skipped several beats.

On the bed only a few feet from where I sat, Bjarni lay curled on top of a stained mattress as if he was protecting something precious. Or someone.

Bile rose in my throat when my hazy gaze landed on where his knot plugged a woman’s yawning entrance wide, and finally everything came back to me in all=too-vivid detail.

Annabel.

My Annabel.

My sobbing, distraught Annabel whose distress alone had yanked me from the depths of unconsciousness.

Black rage slammed over my mind so instantaneously and completely that every ounce of fear and regret I’d experienced since claiming her vanished. Instinct alone got me to my feet faster than my concussed head would otherwise have allowed.

Without hesitation, I followed the momentum and threw myself on top of Bjarni, roaring like a beast, intent to maim.

“Get off her! Get off my mate!” My fists weren’t as coordinated as they would normally have been, but I got a good few whacks in on the blond giant who’d penetrated my woman before he managed to rear up and throw me off.

I thudded to the floor, my shoulder impacting with the hard surface heavily enough to cause the floorboards to groan.

I was on my feet again in an instant, prepared to resume my attack, when Bjarni held up a hand.

“Stop!” he shouted. “We’re fucking tied, you imbecile. You’ll hurt her!”

Hurt her. Hurt her?

Those two words echoed in my throbbing head, pausing my already raised fist mid-air.

“Modi. Modi, stop.”

That voice.

I stared at the bed, blind to anything but the girl twisting toward me underneath Bjarni’s bulk.

He growled