Chapter Text
The Favonius Keep was in high spirits. The calamity of the Wild Hunt that had plagued the islands of Nod Krai for so many years had finally calmed, the rumblings at Ashveil Peak and the Pillar of Embla had been resolved—all largely in thanks to the efforts of that mysterious Traveler—and the expedition was finally, finally over.
They were going home.
It was an open secret that Grandmaster Varka had been in an unusually good mood lately, joining the troops for drinking and singing for the nights that he wasn’t inexplicably absent from the camp and cracking jokes during the daily drills, but now that the delegates of the expedition were packing their crates to return to Mondstadt, Varka’s elation blended easily with the excitement from the troops. The Chief Alchemist dutifully provided his reports, but otherwise seemed intent on avoiding the Grandmaster, preferring to keep Durin at his side in order to not be pulled into another private conversation with Varka about the activities which actually lent to his jovial demeanor.
Because he was visiting Nicole. Not every night—sometimes she wasn’t home, and sometimes he was occupied, but it had become a routine for them both nonetheless. She wasn’t adventurous, it turned out, and Varka was pleased to adventure with her—on her, in her—despite still being in awe of her decision to choose him for her newfound passions. Every kiss, every touch of her skin, every pass of her breath along his cheek still felt like that dream he’d thought he’d thought he was in on that very first night with her.
And he dreaded the day he would have to wake up.
South of the Favonius keep on the east side of the Wavechaser Plain there was a waterfall, slightly receded into the cliff for some privacy, and in the early morning this was where Varka drove his claymore into the bank at the foot of the falls, draped his coat over the cross of the blade, and stripped off the rest of his clothing to submerge himself chest-deep in the water and leaned back into the waterfall. He closed his eyes, letting the heavy water pound his shoulders and wash away the sweat, soot, and grime that defined his long years on this expedition.
Home to Mondstadt. Home to windwheel asters, dandelion wine, and sweeping green cliffs. Windmills, the faint lilt of harp music from the valley. Home to paperwork, the Church, the captains he had left behind with orders to “keep things running” while he was away, to Jean, to Kaeya, to Eula, to Lohen, who all would need his guidance once he was back in the City of Freedom for new assignments—or perhaps some authoritative structure, in Lohen’s case.
Nod Krai had become so familiar. Seven years of battles and reconnaissance had brought with them some acquaintance with the place—dare he say, fondness? HiisiIsland with its serene beauty, Lempo Isle with the bustling trade harbor and that endearing little junkyard…even his tent in the Favonius Keep had its comforts. Especially on those nights when Nicole had visited him there, challenging him to keep their efforts quiet on his cot.
“Nicole,” the name seemed to hold so much significance that he found himself speaking it aloud, still hardly audible over the noise from the waterfall. What had begun as a little spark of interest during their adventure had turned into lust, passion, unrestraint. She had eased herself into his daily routine, bracing him, a beacon in the harrowing wilderness even beyond the carnal satisfaction they shared. Or perhaps she did not feel the same, and when he had packed up and left Nod Krai she would turn her interests to some other subject.
He opened his eyes again, letting his vision focus now on the majestic peaks in the distance. Fontaine, he supposed; raised up over the ocean by some primordial magic that pumped the sea up the cliffs only to spill back down in waterfalls. He’d never been there, only heard descriptions of its high waterways and deep-sea fortress. The Fontanians did not boast a Church, but rather held trials as theatre for entertainment. How very different from Mondstadt it must be.
There was a flicker in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to see a little golden seelie flit out of sight behind his coat that hung on his sword. He waded a few paces out of the waterfall to try to peer around it.
“Nicole,” he called gruffly, “Is that you?”
The seelie responded with a bashful wiggle, before changing into her glowing silhouette, and she materialized on the bank, shoes landing softly on the grass.
“Sorry,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her body with her arms straight so they pushed her breasts together in that provocative way, “You called out my name, so thought you might be…in trouble.” She finished the thought with her lips tucked between her teeth, and leaned ever so slightly forward as though trying to peek into the water at the rest of Varka’s submerged body.
“Such a precocious angel,” Varka replied with a smirk. “Usually it’s the weary knight that happens upon the angelic maiden bathing in the wild, and not the other way around.”
Nicole looked around at the place she found herself, the slightly hidden waterfall and the open sea beyond. “Did you want to be alone?”
“I did,” Varka took a few more paces forward in the water toward the bank so that his chest and abdomen rose out of the water Nicole’s eyes followed the streams running between his pectorals and weaving between his abdomen to pool in the muscular dip of his hips, stopping as the water reached just below his navel, and she pouted. “But I don’t anymore.” He smoothed his wet hair out of his face, and held out a hand. “Want to join me? Or, sorry—” he dropped the hand as the thought struck him, “Can you cross water?”
“I’m not that kind of witch,” Nicole folded her arms for a moment, but then raised them back to unclasp the fastening of her dress.
Varka leaned back in the water again, resting against a boulder as Nicole held his gaze while she pulled off each of her sleeves and then—Varka whined at the tease—turned her back to him as she slid down the front of her dress, baring those perfect breasts yet out of his sight. His cock twitched at the sight of her bare back with those telltale golden markings, at the ethereal way her skin and hair seemed to glow in the morning sunlight. She slipped her dress down over her hips and let it drop to the grass, and winked over her shoulder at him before kicking off each of her shoes, and slowly—infuriatingly slowly, as the heat below Varka’s navel began to build and ache and his shaft stiffened—tucked her thumbs beneath the waistband of her stockings and panties, and rolled them down her supple legs.
Finally she turned to him, bare breasts shining with their marking that were already starting to sparkle in anticipation, and with another coy little smirk she removed her hat and hung it on the pommel of Varka’s claymore.
Varka licked his lips at the full sight of her. “Come here.”
She stepped forward, slipping her feet silently into the water and flinching ever so slightly at the cold, but keeping her eyes on him; she’d be warm soon enough. She came about waist deep where he was now, and raised her arms around his neck when he slipped his hands around her waist, and they folded into the kiss.
Their tongues found each other easily. They were familiar now; discovery and exploration had turned into a practiced dance, but not without surprise. They languished in the kiss for a time, moving from mouths to necks and shoulders. His large hands raked over her breasts, plump with her arousal, on their way down her body, until they played in the curve between her hip and her thigh, caressing between her legs. Her breath hitched and their kiss broke, and she leaned forward to press her lips instead against his neck as he slipped two fingers into her.
“Ah—!”
She was warm inside compared to the cold water, and Varka hooked his fingers gently into her soft center while his thumb stroked her clit.
“Do you like this?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder to gasp openly at the pleasure, digging her fingernails into his skin as though she might simply lose the tether to the world if she did not hold onto him. “Don’t stop.”
Her hot breath grazed against his face. He hardly needed to watch for the golden glow to indicate her pleasure; he could practically feel her body writhe and tighten around his touch. He kept the rhythm, hooking his fingers inside her again and again with his thumb stroking her knot, his other hand trailing up and down her back and she moaned inside his head, until—
“Varka—!”
Her echoing voice peaked, and he held onto her as her pleasure enveloped her, continuing his caress until her body relaxed and she fell against him with a sigh.
In true chivalrous fashion he had often taken to ensuring she got off first. But he certainly wasn’t done with her, now that he was fully erect even in the cold water. She giggled as she rubbed her thigh against his cock, already yearning for it next.
Varka grinned. “You’re insatiable, you know. It’s almost unbecoming for an Angel.”
“And you’re still too restrained,” Nicole wrapped her arms around Varka’s neck again, and let him lead her back, deeper into the water where he had stood when she had arrived. “Besides, I’m just an ordinary human now. I might as well enjoy every little thing I can.” She let him wrap his arms around her back to hold her up in the water at this level. “And every big thing,” she finished, with another wink and a kiss.
“I should hope so.”
He pulled his hands lower, grasping the back of her thighs, and lifted her legs around his waist so that her face was above him now, her hair falling in a curtain over his face as he leaned her into the waterfall. The cascade streamed over them both, pouring from the back of her head around her neck and down her breasts, and Varka pressed his lips between them, kissing the flesh that tightened under the cold water, running his tongue along the inside slope and stroking it against her stiff nipple, letting the water run down along her tit and into his mouth with a soft groan. She held his face as he worshiped her breasts like this, his hands occupied with holding her up, until he pulled her back down to eye level.
It was always this moment, before he was about to plunge his thick length inside her, that she could see the spirit of the Wolf move behind his eyes. The Knight of Boreas was not just a title, it was an incarnation; the feral beast that ruled the North Wind, and the one which Varka held at bay even in when he himself was at his most ravenous. “Knight of Boreas,” she often said to him, as now, in these moments, not as his name, but to call the wolf out.
He buried himself inside her under the water, beginning his heavy thrusting with his hips as the water crashed down on their shoulders. The sound of the waterfall was deafening, drowning out his groans and any pleasured gasps and moans she might murmur in his head; so much so that they simply had to feel each other, to know each other, to press into each other with what they wanted. She wrapped her legs around him, breaking against his thrusts, in and out, over and over, both of them relishing in the thrill of each push and pull, basking in it, and then—
His hot cum spilled out into the cold water, instantly washed away by the current to the sea, and his body tensed and then relaxed as he pulled back out of her, picking her up against the depth of the water but wading back toward the shallow so he could rest against the boulder. She tangled her fingers in his hair, leaving kisses on his cheek and his jaw.
“Nicole,” he said finally, breathlessly, holding her gaze closely, “I’m going back to Mondstadt. The expedition is done, and we’re all going home.”
She was silent for a time, continuing to weave his hair between her fingers, before saying simply, “I suppose you should return the key to my cottage, then.”
“Uh—” Varka was taken aback by this response, and loosened his grasp on her body to let her stand in the water beside him, “I suppose so, sure, if you want…”
“I haven’t been back to Mondstadt in quite a while,” she mused, “I wonder if it’s changed. Did someone take care of that scary dragon?”
“Well—yes,” Varka spluttered, “But do you mean…you want to come with me?”
“I can go wherever I please,” Nicole answered, “Dropping in to Mondstadt is about as difficult as popping over here from my cottage.”
“Hah,” Varka flopped back against the boulder in relief, “Well, I certainly wish I had that talent of yours.” He reached out beside her, and pointed at those tall peaks that rose up on the horizon. “That’s Fontaine there. And beyond that is Liyue, and then Mondstadt. And you know what—I’ve never even been to Fontaine. Or Inazuma or Sumeru, for that matter. There’s a lot of this world I haven’t even seen, but for now all I can think about is being back home. Except…well, you wouldn’t always be there.”
Nicole passed him another of her serene little smiles. “Would you like to?”
“Like to what?”
“See more of the world.” Without waiting for an answer, Nicole raised her finger and twirled it up in the air, and then—
Somehow they were both sitting, fully dressed and completely dry, under a decorative awning at an outdoor cafe, where people bustled by on the street wearing vests and sleeve garters and saying phrases like “bonjour!” and “excusez-moi!”
“What the—”
“Welcome to Fontaine, Varka,” Nicole crossed her arms across the cafe table and bestowed him with a smug smile.
“We’re in—but how did you—” Varka twisted around in his chair, trying to see every angle at once.
Nicole waved over to the waiter, “Deux cafés au lait et une part de tarte Tatin à partager, s'il vous plaît,” and then put her chin in her hand with her elbow on the table, “I can pass through the seelie courts,” she said in answer to his nonsensical stammering, “And sometimes a little further. This is Café Lutece, and they serve the best coffee in Fontaine. And don’t worry,” she added, “You look just like an ordinary citizen to them, no armor or heraldry. Except you look very silly craning around like that.”
The waiter returned with two frothy coffees and what looked like an upside-down apple pie, with two forks. Varka was still weary from the exertions under the waterfall and still in some form of shock at the abrupt change of scenery, but the rich, earthy coffee helped, and the pie—tart, whatever—was quite decadent. It occurred to Varka that this was the first time he and Nicole had shared any sort of meal together, and he cleared his throat to muster up the exact balance between casual and charming that he needed in order to point it out—
“I hope you have some mora on you, I seem to have forgotten my wallet,” Nicole said cheerily.
Varka snorted out a laugh with a roll of his eyes, fished his bag of mora out of his coat, and dropped some coins on the table. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood up when Nicole did, and she grabbed his hand and led the way out onto the street.
The Court of Fontaine was lively, and Varka let Nicole walk him past her favorite shops: a fashion atelier, the grocer, the news stand, and a very pungent florist. It seemed to be true that the citizens of Fontaine took him to be an ordinary citizen; no one batted an eye at his height or breadth, nor at the coat of arms on his chest or the scars on his face. The fascinating mechanical guards stomped past him on the street with no concern, even though his instinct wanted to fight them. He bought Nicole a bagatelle at a boutique, a bracelet set with an amethyst that she kept admiring, and the shopkeepers seemed to fully understand him despite Varka not knowing the language. Convenient magic indeed.
“There’s plenty more to see here,” Nicole pointed up one of the limestone walls to the highest level of the city, “The Archon lives up there, or…well, the Iudex does. He’s the political leader of Fontaine now, rather like yourself, although his ties to the throne of Hydro are…a bit more particular.” She grasped both of Varka’s hands and squared her shoulders in front of him. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“Sure,” Varka said with a shrug, “If you recommend another good restaur—”
She held her finger up in the air again, and twirled it before he could finish his sentence.
The air changed. It was humid, hot, and suddenly filled with the scent of spice and rich soil. Varka looked around at the entirely different surroundings again, still unprepared but a little less shocked at the change this time. Open-air vendors selling rugs and pottery, a small harbor below them, and a twisting street that snaked up the trunk of an enormous tree.
“Sumeru City,” Nicole said matter-of-factly, “We’ll have lunch at Lambad’s Tavern here, and then I have some business at the Akademiya.”
“We’re just running errands now?” Varka grumbled, but eagerly followed Nicole into the tavern, lured by the scent of some spiced meat that he very much wanted to sink his teeth into.
Inside the tavern, sunlight glowing green through the ornate stained glass, Nicole ordered practically everything on the menu—since Varka paid for it, of course—and none of it was like anything he had ever tasted before. Succulent meats, spiced vegetables, and some kind of woody iced tea that paired excellently with it all. No sooner than he had stuffed down the last of his shawarma wrap than she stood up again and snatched his forearm.
“Let’s go!”
Varka’s mouth was too full to protest, and her capricious demeanor was too adorable anyway, so he let her pull him back out of the tavern and up the steep street.
Sumeru City was just as fascinating as the Court of Fontaine had been, but exceedingly different; the rather than Fontaine’s neatly organized city levels, the street wound chaotically around the Great Tree, dipping under the trunk to a marketplace and theatre and rising up to grander and grander architecture. Music from an unfamiliar instrument mingled with the chatter from the crowds, and once again Varka found that the citizens paid him and Nicole no particular notice, as Nicole’s magic must have allowed them to blend in the same as before. The people seemed peaceful and relaxed, a little less hurried than the people of Fontaine, but still plenty busy with shopping and some gaggles of young scholars in academic robes and jaunty hats, avidly discussing the latest study. The pathways were steep, and already Varka’s thighs were beginning to burn.
“Here we are!” Nicole said triumphantly, after what felt like the longest uphill hike, “The Akademiya!”
The air instantly hushed as they stepped through the grand doorway, and Varka instantly understood that if Sumeru did not have a Church as Mondstadt had, this was likely their sanctuary all the same. Knowledge, wisdom, the pursuit of absolutes alongside the debates over the metaphysical. Even the hushed voices of the scholars in the room seemed to echo loud and clear from the vaulted ceilings, as though all thoughts uttered here were to be shared with everyone.
Varka walked carefully, but no one seemed bothered by his heavy footfalls even though they sounded deafening in the hushed hallway, following Nicole along the raised corridor toward the threshold until they passed through another doorway, into the largest, grandest library Varka had ever seen. The shelves towered to the vaulted ceiling, that dusty paper smell mingling with the incense that diffused from pots of oil, and he could not help himself from blurting out a loud and echoing, “Wow!”
“Shhh!” Someone hissed from a study table, and Varka sheepishly clapped his hand over his mouth.
Nicole browsed the shelves, thinking aloud only to herself and Varka as she perused the spines of the books for whatever it was she was looking for, and Varka found himself feeling jealous that her voice would not ever be scolded for being too disruptive.
“Here it is!” She said finally, plucking down a book from a high, dusty shelf that looked like no one had touched it or browsed it in years. “The Little Bird and the Wooden Boat, by Anya Andersdottir.” She flicked through the tome, showing him some of the illustrations of a songbird that alighted upon the bow of a great ship, and adventured to worlds unknown. “One of M’s early works, and one of the few that Alice did not feel the need to place in Lisa’s care in Mondstadt. But I’ve been wanting to read it, and I think little Durin will enjoy borrowing it for a time, don’t you think?”
Despite not really following Nicole’s frame of reference, he nodded.
“Off to our next destination, then!” Nicole raised her finger again.
Varka made to grab her by the wrist, yelling, “Wait, hold on just a—” but they had both vanished before either of them heard another alloyed scholar’s “Shhh!”
“—minute?”
Varka was a little more prepared this time for the sudden shift in scenery. What he was not prepared for was what looked like a thousand stairs twining up along a mountainside, arched with bright red gates. The air was different again, still humid, but cold and crisp, and rustling with feather-light pink petals that twirled down from the blossoming trees, reminding him of the dandelion seeds that caught the breeze in Mondstadt.
“Where are we now?”
“Mount Yougou,” Nicole said happily, “In Inazuma.”
Sure enough, they were already high enough on the mountainside that he could see in the distance a sprawling city, tiled rooftops that rose up to a great castle on a cliff over the water.
“The Archon of Eternity lives there, in Tenshukaku,” Nicole said, wrapping her arm around Varka’s elbow, “She is formidable and detached, so I’ve heard.” She tugged at his arm to indicate he should move along.
“Are we going to climb all of these stairs?” Varka asked with trepidation, massaging his thighs.
“Yep!” Nicole replied cheerfully.
“Are there at least drinks at the top?”
“Nope!”
Varka groaned, sighed, and began to climb.
Inazuma must indeed be the Land of Eternity, he thought, because that was what this stretch of stairs felt like. It was eased a little bit by the view—islands dotted with trees of pink and orange and red, jagged cliffs rising out of the water, cranes soaring below them, glowing in the golden sun as it began to sink toward the horizon.
After what felt like the millionth stair, they finally leveled upon the summit, atop which was built a beautiful red shrine, raised by beams over a shallow pool where colorful fish lazed in the water. Nicole led him around to a sandy courtyard, greeting the shrine maidens with quick nods of her head as they passed, until they stood at a booth that hung with charms and scraps of fabric.
“Would you like to read your fortune today?” the shine maiden asked pleasantly.
Nicole nodded eagerly to Varka, who reluctantly stammered out, “Uh—okay.”
The shrine maiden nodded fervently, and held out to Varka what looked like a little box of sticks.
“A fortune? Really?” Varka muttered to Nicole, “I’m not really superstitious like this, you know. I make my own luck. Is there anything else we can do, now that we’ve trudged all the way up here?”
“Just take it,” Nicole urged, “It won’t hurt you, you know.”
With another groan, Varka pulled a bamboo stick out of the box the shrine maiden offered. He unfurled the paper wrapped around it and stared at it for a few seconds before realizing he had no idea how to read Inazuman characters.
The shrine maiden held out her hand. “May I decipher it for you?”
“Sure,” Varka said with resignation, and handed over the stick and the paper.
The shine maiden read it, and her brow furrowed. “Oh, well…I suppose you can try again tomorrow.”
“What does it say?” Varka asked, without thinking.
The shrine maiden cleared her throat, and read aloud, “The future clouds over for you, for you have locked the clear skies away in your heart. Do not sink into the bosom of fear, for it will not be your comfort.”
“Well, that’s ominous.” Varka put his hands on his hips, and then turned to Nicole. “I think I’m done here. Where else can we go?”
Nicole shrugged, and with another twirl of her finger—
The warm breeze. The scent of cecilias. The calm breath of the sea.
Mondstadt.
They were at the tip of Starsnatch Cliff, the gentle air lifting their hair at their brows. The sun was truly setting now, over the cliffs—over the high peaks of Fontaine to the west. How strange that he had started the day gazing at them from the opposite side.
“Consider it a sneak peek,” Nicole chimed, “I’ll let you enjoy your real homecoming the way you want to, but I thought you’d like to see it again, from here.”
Varka let out a breath. The city of Mondstadt lay to the south, rooftops burnished by the setting sun, with the sharp turrets of the Church and the snowy peak of Dragonspine looming beyond. His heart ached.
“I can be with you wherever you are,” she said quietly, wrapping her small hand around his large one. “Don’t let your feelings from me keep you from the place you long to be.”
He nodded, with his throat too tight to form an answer. They watched the sun set, the last of the light sparkling on tips of the lazy windmills, until the city in the distance faded into the twilight.
“Do you want to go to the city?” Nicole asked.
After a moment of thought, Varka shook his head. “I’ll wait,” he answered, “I don’t want to spoil the real homecoming.”
“Good,” Nicole replied, “Because there’s one more place I want to take you.”
One more shift. One more change in the air, the smell of the trees, but this time, when his feet met with a stone foundation, there was a tug deep in the confines of his heart.
Wolvendom. The Altar of the Wolf.
He felt it, the Wolf within him, stalking at the edges of his soul—a beast he feared that lurked in his mind, his veins, his heart. This place was where the Wolf’s spirit was closest to the mortal world, and where it was the hardest for him to hold it at bay.
“Nicole,” Varka bowed his head. Raindrops were beginning to fall from the dark, clouded sky, matting his hair over his face. “Why did you bring me here?”
“When we’ve made love together,” Nicole said, after a gentle pause, “I’ve asked you not to hold back. The spirit of the Wolf lives within you. On that first night I thought you released it with me, but after being with you plenty I know that wasn’t the case. That was still just you.”
“Am I not enough for you?” Varka’s voice shook, “You are not satisfied just with me?”
“You are the Wolf,” Nicole pressed, “Only by releasing it are you your truest self. That is who I want to be with. I want the true Knight of Boreas, Varka.” She make to slip her hand into his, but he snatched it away as though her touch burned his skin.
“The Wolf is for the battlefield,” Varka turned back to meet her gaze, and she could already see, here in the Wolf’s court, the shadow moving behind the icy glow of his eyes. “Not for you.”
“I want all of you,” she said; and although she had said it to him many times, the meaning now was heavier, more grave. In the deepening dark the eyes etched into the stone wall glimmered with that same pale blue light. “The soul of Boreas may have passed on, but you are its heir and incarnation. And every knight before you that held that title and that burden knew how to master it, control it, but you…” her eyes passed over his tormented face, “You seem only to resist it. Powerful enough in your own right, perhaps, but sooner or later the Wolf will tear its way out of you.”
Varka reached out, and grasped Nicole by the shoulder, but rather than drawing her in like he always did, like he so wanted to, he shoved her away.
“The Wolf is unfettered power,” he said, his voice haggard and quiet as the rain began to shower the stones around them, “In battle it wants carnage and bloodshed. With you…I cannot know what will satiate it.”
“It is not our enemy,” Nicole reasoned, her voice a gentle lilt inside his head. She stepped back toward him again, unwilling to let him turn away in this moment, “I told you, it is part of you. May of us in this world have pieces of ourselves we fear, but…” she threaded her fingers through his again, and this time he did not pull his hand away, but curled his fingers around hers, “When we venture those fears together, we can overcome them. I’m not going to fear for anything you might do, because…I love you.”
He pulled her in and kissed her, raising his hands to cup her face. Resisting was wearisome. Keeping the Wolf chained within his heart took so much strength day by day, moment by moment, but with her there was a shimmer of reassurance, perhaps even peace, that the Wolf would not consume him to the point that he could not return to himself, or that she would never look at him the same way again. Her lips were soft, her tender skin running with the rainwater that streamed down over them both, just like the waterfall this morning. And, with a newfound resolve now that she was here with him, in the place where the spirit of the Wolf was unbound, he dropped that chain from around his heart.
It was immediate—a snap as the east burst forth, and from his tender hold his hands clenched on her, in her hair and on the back of her neck, and he pulled his mouth away from the kiss to lunge forward and lamp his teeth at the base of her neck.
No one could hear her shriek except him, inside his head, and he met it with his own roiling, voracious growl that mingled with the howls of the wolves on the clifftops, muffled still by the sound of the pounding rain. His hands, clawlike, tore at her clothing—ripping seams and shredding the delicate fabric until her breasts were freed again, dripping with rainwater and heaving with the sudden exhilaration she found at the pain of his teeth in her flesh. His hands raked her body, not tenderly or passionately, but possessively—he finally released her shoulder from his jaw to throw her to the hard etched-stone ground, and she lay naked and gasping as he stripped off his coat and cuirass and shirt and he dropped over her on his hands and knees, and unfastened his trousers.
His cock was the thickest and longest as she had ever seen it—was that, too, something he had been holding back!?—and already throbbing with angry desire as he edged out of his boots and breeches and hunched over her, his breath rasping against her chest.
“You wanted the Wolf,” Varka growled, “Here I am.”
It was not that the Wolf had taken over, not that the chained beast in his heart had overcome him; for in this moment Varka was the most possessed of himself as he had ever been, as ferocious and alive as he was on the battlefield, but finally the chivalry had been discarded like the clothing that soaked in the rain, and he could take what he wanted—
She raised her arms, meaning to wrap them around his neck as she often did when their lovemaking was about to begin its entanglement, but with one hand he grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them down on the stone, forcing her back to arch up to him and her breasts to buck upward.
—Because what he wanted was to fuck her raw on this altar to his legacy.
He met her gaze. No restraint, she had said. The Wolf was vicious. But even with the look of fear that gripped her face as she lay beneath him, her body arched and trembling, she sighed with resolve, and whispered into his head, “Finally.”
He plunged into her, hearing her shriek and moan in his head as she opened herself up to accept the full length of him, the angelic markings flashing with their golden glow and sparkling the raindrops that pooled between her breasts. A visceral grunt with every thrust as he pulled out of her and drove back in, the roiling heat behind his navel roaring with savagery. She broke against him with every thrust, aching and moaning within him, her moon-gold hair mingling with the mud in the cracks between the rain-soaked stones.
“Wolf of the North, Knight of Boreas…ahh—!”
He lunged down again and clamped his teeth on her other shoulder as his gyrations continued, intensified—she inhaled sharply at the pain again, but her golden etchings sparkled and danced ad the Wolf of the North sated his lust within her, his breath a hot rasp against her skin as his throbbing thickness pounded inside her, every thrust another howl of echoing pleasure. With her hands pinned at the ground as he took her over and over she could not hold him or do anything but rock back against him, arching her back against the hard stone so his cock would rub her clit with each stroke. The pain and pleasure pitched and yawed, mingling like the rainwater and their sweat on this stone altar, inextricable from one another, mounting within her with every thrum…
She fractured, and the pleasure burst within her, shuddering through her like the lightning that cracked overhead now, and she instinctively relaxed, ready for him to follow along with her.
But he didn’t. His shaft was still as hard as iron within her, undulating with the Wolf’s desire, and the pleasure continued even after her climax. How could it be that he was still going? Was the Wolf of the North in fact this ravenous?
“Varka?”
She craned to look at his face, bowed over her in his voracity, but with his eyes still flashing with that icy light in the thundering darkness.
“Varka, come back to me now!”
His body stiffened in his thrusting, quickening, his breath ragged and snarling. With both hands now he spread her arms, pinning her still by the wrists on the ground but dropping his weight on her, crushing his chest against her so he could wrest her mouth into a kiss—the lightning flashed again, thunder clapped, and he shattered, gushing heat between them and onto the carved stones.
She let him rest on her for a moment, listening to his breath steady, until he rolled to his side, and released her wrist from his hands to stroke her face with a long, exhale.
“How do you feel?” She murmured to his mind, smiling as the rain washed their heaving bodies.
“More alive than I’ve ever been,” Varka sighed. Releasing the Wolf was the most relief he’d ever felt, even after so many times with her. If this was what the true release was meant to feel like, he wasn’t sure it should ever be barred as it had been. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, pulling her in close so he could whisper, almost inaudible amid the sound of the rain, “Thank you…
I love you, Nicole.”