Chapter 4: Smitten
The world swam back into focus grain by grain. Caius became aware of the rough texture of furs against his back, the dying crackle of the hearth, and the crushing, warm weight of Astrid sprawled across his chest. Her breathing was a deep, steady tide against his ear, her powerful body slack with a satisfaction so profound it felt like its own kind of sleep.
He felt… hollowed out. Purged. As if the frantic, trapped energy that had hummed under his skin for years had finally been siphoned off. A profound, boneless peace settled in its place.
Then Astrid stirred. A low, contented murmur vibrated through her chest into his. She nuzzled into the hollow of his neck, her lips planting a soft, absent-minded kiss there. Her fingers, which usually looked like they could snap a tree branch, began to trace idle, dizzying patterns on his sternum.
“Mmm,” she hummed, her voice thick and drowsy. “By the winds, little prince.”
He could only manage a shaky exhale in response. His mind was still trying to catch up with the seismic shift in his reality. This legendary warrior, this woman who could probably break him over her knee, was curled against him like a contented cat.
She shifted again, rolling partially off him to prop herself up on one elbow. Her face, usually a mask of stern command, was softened with a look of dazed wonder. She gazed down at him, her eyes tracing the lines of his face as if memorizing them.
“I thought it was just a story,” she whispered, her free hand drifting down from his chest, over the slight swell of his belly, to rest low on her own abdomen. She pressed there gently, a slow, circular motion. “A witch’s nasty joke. But… I can feel it. The heat of it. Like I’ve swallowed a little sun.”
A blush burned its way up Caius’s neck. He was used to being a source of awkwardness or pity, never… this. Never awe.
Astrid didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment. She leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, a slow exploration that tasted of sweat and her own unique, metallic scent. When she pulled back, she was smiling, a genuine, unguarded expression that made her look years younger.
“You’re still here,” she said, her voice laced with a giddy disbelief. Her fingers trailed back up his side, making him shiver. “I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t just… vanish in a puff of smoke after a performance like that.”
Her hand slid lower, over his hip, her touch possessive and claiming. It was as her fingers brushed through the coarse hair at the base of his stomach that she stilled. Her playful smile faltered, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock.
Her eyes, wide and incredulous, snapped down to where their bodies were still loosely joined.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she breathed.
Caius followed her gaze. He too felt it—a stubborn, persistent thrum of life where there should have been only spent exhaustion. The curse, it seemed, was not so easily slain.
A slow, wicked grin spread across Astrid’s face, erasing all traces of her earlier softness and replacing it with raw, predatory glee. Her hips gave a subtle, testing roll against him, and he gasped as a fresh jolt of sensation, dulled but undeniable, sparked along his nerves.
“Well,” she purred, her voice dropping to a husky register that promised utter ruin. “Looks like the beast has more than one life in him.”