I opened my eyes, and took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. The Helmut’s breathing and Sven’s snoring reverberated through the room. I stifled a yawn and lay my head back against the pillow, but I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep.
I’d not slept well in the recent weeks. Something kept stirring me awake at obscenely early hours. It wasn’t like I was being kept up by nightmares. It was something else. I’d wake up with a fleeting sense of unease, but there was nothing specific to grasp onto. It was frustrating and upsetting, and I’d lay in bed for hours waiting for the sun to come up.
If you wanted something to change, you had to be the change. With a tiny nod only to myself, I slowly pulled the sheets off me. Sven’s arm lay against me, a hot musclebound log wrapped in tribal tattoos. I shimmied out from under it, my nightie pulling up over my head in a display I was happy they were not awake to see. Our Seneschal’s snoring paused for a moment, then continued as normal.
Helmut was on the other side, sleeping on his side and curled away from me. He tossed and turned most nights, probably from the stress of leading our pack. It wasn’t easy being Alpha. The responsibility was immense, and things hadn’t been easy these recent months. He was breathing deeply now and would probably continue until the first rays of dawn shown through the windows.
I crept out of the bed, a sense of something naughty coming over me. I was sneaking out of politeness for these two lovely men, but just the act of tiptoeing around our bedroom at night made me feel like a cat burglar. I imagined myself slinking around these two, looking for valuables to pocket before disappearing out the window like a ghost. The room was cold, the warmth of the bed calling back to me.
My foot came down painfully on something hard and metallic. I hopped up and down, holding my poor foot. Sven’s belt buckle, tossed carelessly on the floor. I’d have to give him a stern talking to later. Of course he’d bring up the point that it was I who took it off him and threw it to the floor.
I grew warm thinking about last night. I’d been hornier than usual, and these poor boys could barely keep up. We’d tumbled all over the bed, wrestling, kissing and licking. Then I got what I wanted. What I needed. Ridden hard into the soft mattress until all of us collapsed in beautiful exhaustion.
I shook my head, clearing those thoughts and tiptoed over to the dresser. I pulled out my track suit and put it on, creeping out of the bedroom with my trail runners in my hands. The stairs were another obstacle. This cabin was gorgeous, but old wood had a way of creaking when you didn’t want it to. I descended in the most gentle way possible, and was proud of myself when I got to the bottom without a sound.
I opened the front door and braced myself against the rush of cold pre-dawn air. It was unreal how cold the world was before the sun came up. A part of my brain protested, insisting I shut the door and run back upstairs. Nestled between my two hunks, warm and comfy. But I knew that I needed to clear my head, and a brisk run would do it better than anything else. Against the insistent voice in my head, I shut the door behind me and embraced the cold Trondheim morning.
The village was dark and sleepy. An owl hooted off in the woods, probably hunting a last minute morsel before the sun came out. I sat down on the rocking chair on the porch and put my trail runners on. After a few seconds, I was no longer cold. My body had come to grips with the new temperature and decided to muscle through it. I hopped off the porch and landed in the gravel and wood chip walkway that wrapped around our cabin.
I passed by the dormant rose bushes, whose care was entrusted to me as Grace of the Pack. It was an ancient tradition, one which caused me no little anxiety. I’d never had a green thumb: I’d neglected every plant I’d ever owned to death. I
I’d not slept well in the recent weeks. Something kept stirring me awake at obscenely early hours. It wasn’t like I was being kept up by nightmares. It was something else. I’d wake up with a fleeting sense of unease, but there was nothing specific to grasp onto. It was frustrating and upsetting, and I’d lay in bed for hours waiting for the sun to come up.
If you wanted something to change, you had to be the change. With a tiny nod only to myself, I slowly pulled the sheets off me. Sven’s arm lay against me, a hot musclebound log wrapped in tribal tattoos. I shimmied out from under it, my nightie pulling up over my head in a display I was happy they were not awake to see. Our Seneschal’s snoring paused for a moment, then continued as normal.
Helmut was on the other side, sleeping on his side and curled away from me. He tossed and turned most nights, probably from the stress of leading our pack. It wasn’t easy being Alpha. The responsibility was immense, and things hadn’t been easy these recent months. He was breathing deeply now and would probably continue until the first rays of dawn shown through the windows.
I crept out of the bed, a sense of something naughty coming over me. I was sneaking out of politeness for these two lovely men, but just the act of tiptoeing around our bedroom at night made me feel like a cat burglar. I imagined myself slinking around these two, looking for valuables to pocket before disappearing out the window like a ghost. The room was cold, the warmth of the bed calling back to me.
My foot came down painfully on something hard and metallic. I hopped up and down, holding my poor foot. Sven’s belt buckle, tossed carelessly on the floor. I’d have to give him a stern talking to later. Of course he’d bring up the point that it was I who took it off him and threw it to the floor.
I grew warm thinking about last night. I’d been hornier than usual, and these poor boys could barely keep up. We’d tumbled all over the bed, wrestling, kissing and licking. Then I got what I wanted. What I needed. Ridden hard into the soft mattress until all of us collapsed in beautiful exhaustion.
I shook my head, clearing those thoughts and tiptoed over to the dresser. I pulled out my track suit and put it on, creeping out of the bedroom with my trail runners in my hands. The stairs were another obstacle. This cabin was gorgeous, but old wood had a way of creaking when you didn’t want it to. I descended in the most gentle way possible, and was proud of myself when I got to the bottom without a sound.
I opened the front door and braced myself against the rush of cold pre-dawn air. It was unreal how cold the world was before the sun came up. A part of my brain protested, insisting I shut the door and run back upstairs. Nestled between my two hunks, warm and comfy. But I knew that I needed to clear my head, and a brisk run would do it better than anything else. Against the insistent voice in my head, I shut the door behind me and embraced the cold Trondheim morning.
The village was dark and sleepy. An owl hooted off in the woods, probably hunting a last minute morsel before the sun came out. I sat down on the rocking chair on the porch and put my trail runners on. After a few seconds, I was no longer cold. My body had come to grips with the new temperature and decided to muscle through it. I hopped off the porch and landed in the gravel and wood chip walkway that wrapped around our cabin.
I passed by the dormant rose bushes, whose care was entrusted to me as Grace of the Pack. It was an ancient tradition, one which caused me no little anxiety. I’d never had a green thumb: I’d neglected every plant I’d ever owned to death. I
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