Astrid’s voice wrapped around the words like silk—smooth, rich, the kind of tone that didn’t just travel through the air but vibrated in a man’s bones.
"Irene, you’re here."
My spine prickled, heat pooling low in my gut before I even turned to face her. Then her gaze slid past Irene, landing on me, and for one breath—just one—her dark eyes flared.
Not with surprise. Not with curiosity. With something raw and hungry, something that made my pulse stutter. Then, like a curtain falling, she masked it with a smile—warm, welcoming, knowing.
"And Welheim," she murmured, my name rolling off her tongue like an invitation. "Come in."
I obeyed.
The moment I stepped inside, the air changed. Thicker. Warmer. The scent of burning herbs and something sweeter—like crushed berries and warm skin—filled my lungs.
My pulse quickened, my fingers flexing at my sides. The hut’s flap fell closed behind me, but the darkness I expected never came. Instead, the firelight flooded the space, golden and alive, casting long shadows that clung to the walls like lovers.
And then I saw her.
Rúna stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her, fingers laced together as if to keep from reaching out. Her silver-white hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the firelight until it seemed to shimmer.
The light painted her skin in amber, highlighting the curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips—parted just enough to suggest a held breath, a waiting. Her chest rose and fell, slow and deliberate, as if she were savoring the anticipation.
As if she’d been waiting for me.
Astrid’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, smooth as aged whiskey but carrying the weight of a command. "Welheim." She stepped closer, her presence a warm pressure at my back. "Thank you... for accepting my daughter."
I forced my face into an expression of sincere gratitude, my voice smooth, kind. "Aunt Astrid, it’s my blessing that Sister Rúna is going to be my woman."
Rúna’s cheeks flushed, her fingers twisting together nervously. She was shy—innocent in a way that made my cock ache. But I could see it in her eyes—the flicker of curiosity, the way her breath hitched when she looked at me. She wanted this. She wanted me.
And I was going to take everything.
Astrid’s voice cut through my thoughts again, hesitant but firm. "Welheim... I don’t want to be a burden to both of you. So I think it’s best that I move to a new hut."
Oh no, you don’t.
I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. Two women under one roof? A mature woman like Astrid, with a body made for sin, and a young, tight little thing like Rúna? No fucking way was I letting Astrid leave.
I stepped forward, my voice firm but gentle, the picture of a good, honorable man. "No, Aunt Astrid." I shook my head, letting my hand rest on Rúna’s shoulder—possessive, but not too possessive.
"You are Rúna’s mother. And you will never be a burden." I glanced at Irene, who gave me a subtle, approving nod. Good boy, her eyes seemed to say. "Aunt Tali told me that as a healer—and as a hunter—I can get enough rations in winter for all of us. We’ll have more than enough to live comfortably."
Astrid hesitated, her fingers worrying at the edge of her wrap. "But—"
Irene stepped in smoothly, her voice soft but final. "Sister Astrid, listen to the children." Her hand rested on Astrid’s arm, her touch reassuring—but there was an edge to it, a command. "Or do you want Rúna to be sad?"
Rúna’s eyes widened, her lips trembling as she stepped closer to me. "Welheim... thank you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her fingers brushing against my arm—timid, submissive. "I promise to take care of you... and serve you well... and never create any problems for you."
I looked down at her, my cock throbbing at the way she was already submitting to me. But my gaze flicked back to Astrid, who was watching us with a mix of relief and something else—something warmer, something hungrier.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
I reached out, my hand cupping Rúna’s cheek—gentle, loving—before turning to Astrid. "Aunt Astrid," I said, my voice low, sincere, "we’re family now. And family stays together."
Irene’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile beside me, her dark eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than approval. Good boy, that smirk seemed to say. Now let’s see what you’re really made of.
And I would show her.
Because tonight wasn’t just about Rúna.
Tonight, I was staking a claim—not just on one woman, but on both of them. The thought sent a jolt of heat straight to my cock, my pulse thrumming in my ears. The air in the hut felt heavier, charged with the kind of electricity that comes before a storm.
Irene’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and deliberate. She turned her gaze to Rúna, her tone dropping into something darker, richer. "Rúna... let me help you?"
Rúna’s breath hitched—just slightly—but I caught it. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she nodded, her voice soft but steady. "Hmm."
Astrid exhaled, the sound almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "I’ll be waiting outside." She turned toward the flap of the hut, her movements graceful, unhurried.
But something in me rebelled at the idea of her leaving. The thought of her out there, alone, while Irene and Rúna had me to themselves—it felt wrong.
Not because she didn’t belong, but because I wanted her here. Wanted to see the way her breath would quicken, the way her eyes would darken when she realized she wasn’t just an observer.
I wasn’t thinking—just reacting. "Aunt Astrid." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "If you want... You can stay."
Astrid froze mid-step, her back stiffening. When she turned, her expression was unreadable, but her eyes flickered with something sharp—surprise? Amusement?
"Is that okay, Welheim?" Her voice was light, but there was an edge to it, something testing. "I think it’s best I don’t ruin your special night. An old woman like me... I’d only be a disturbance." She glanced at Irene, then back at me, her lips quirking just slightly. "Irene is already here. That’s enough."
Confusion coiled in my chest. What the hell did that mean?
Irene must’ve seen it in my face because she stepped closer, her body brushing against mine as she leaned in. Her breath was warm against my ear, her voice a whisper meant only for me. "Welheim..." She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully.
"I don’t know why you’re different from other men. Most of them... they hate old women. Dirty women." Her fingers trailed lightly down my arm, sending a shiver through me.