Tension grew inside him until he feared it—and he—would snap. Maccus understood the implications of him finding his wife walking around the city, even if Morrigan didn’t.
His wolf was silent, a deadly predator waiting to be unleashed.
The elevator bell chimed. Asher entered with his woman, Jo, beside him. The vampire and vampire hunter were an unlikely pair, but they belonged together. Just as he and Anja did.
“What’s going on?” Asher asked. “We were on our way over for the meeting when I received your rather abrupt…command.”
One corner of Maccus’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure that’s what you called it.”
“No, I called it a fucking royal summons, but I was trying to be polite.” He nodded toward Anja. “She’s bleeding.” As a vampire, he was sensitive to the smell of blood.
Bjorn growled in warning.
Asher raised his hands. “Ease up. I won’t hurt her.”
He shook his head, fighting his instincts to grab her and flee. He had to trust them or he’d be totally on his own. That was fine when it was just himself, but not so much when he had to protect his wife from vengeful gods. “This is Anja.”
It was Jo who came forward. “Your dead wife? That Anja? How is that possible?”
“That’s what we need to know.” Maccus glared at him.
Bjorn took a deep breath, but before he could begin, Morrigan held up her hand. “Your woman is bleeding. She needs to be seen to. It should have already been done.” This was said with a pointed glare at her mate.
Maccus swore under his breath. “Fine.” He stalked forward. Bjorn placed himself between his fellow Brothers and Anja. Maccus might have knives, but he had razor sharp claws that could tear a man’s throat out before he realized what was happening.
“Sheath your claws, wolf. I’m not going to kill her. I’d have already done it if that was my intention.”
“Not helping,” Morrigan whispered.
Maccus held up his hands to show they were empty. Except they weren’t. The push knives tattooed on his palms could become real in the blink of an eye. Then his palms began to glow.
“Let me see if I can heal her.”
“That’s new.” Bjorn had never seen or heard of this before. It naturally made him suspicious.
“Relatively.” He jerked his head toward Anja. “She’s bleeding on my sofa.”
His reply was so dry, so Maccus, some of the tension bled out of Bjorn. He was right—as a fallen angel, he had powers beyond them all.
“Do it,” he told him, but he stationed himself beside his wife as a precaution.
Maccus wrapped his hands around Anja’s arm. Light spread around the area he held, brightening for a brief second before diminishing. Then he did the same with her hand. “She’ll be fine. The cut was shallow, the gunshot wound a graze.”
Bjorn tore away the bandage from her upper arm and ran his fingers over it. There was nothing but smooth skin and dried blood. Not even a scar. He removed the wrapping from her hand. The wound was gone. He swallowed heavily. “Thank you.” A heavy weight fell from his shoulders.
Before he got down to business, there was something else he needed to attend to. “There may be some footage of me racing through the streets. I moved fast and should be a blur in the shadows unless someone cares to slow down the recording.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Asher assured him.
Satisfied, Bjorn gave him a curt nod, not happy to be in the vampire’s debt, not to mention what he owed Maccus.
The others settled—Maccus in a large chair with Morrigan perched on his lap while Asher and Jo took the other chair.
He ran the backs of his fingers over Anja’s pale, cool cheek, willing her to open her eyes and smile at him. “I had a visit from Odin today,” he began when she remained unconscious.
“This will not end well,” Asher muttered.
“A woman escaped from Freya’s Hall, from the afterlife. Odin commanded me to track her and kill her. I called Maccus, as I was hoping the two of you might help me find a starting point. As usual, the directive came with no useful information.” Bjorn picked up the warm cloth and began to wipe some of the dirt and dried blood from Anja’s hands.
Morrigan snorted. “I can relate. But at least when I was a bounty hunter for Hell I’d be given some direction, a location.”
“Not the way the gods usually work,” he reminded her. “I was on my way here when I heard a woman cry out.” He related the rest of the tale. When he was done, he tossed aside the soiled cloth and pinned them all with a glare.
“I won’t let anyone harm her—not a god, human, or any other supernatural being. At best, she’ll be confined to Helheim. At worst, her soul might be obliterated or lost. That can’t happen.” He’d gone centuries without her, had only just found her again. His chest constricted, his lungs squeezed tight until breathing was difficult.
If she was taken from him, he’d go on a rampage the likes of which the world had never seen. Nothing would be able to stop him until he’d destroyed this world and the next.
“This is too fucking convenient.” Maccus tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Anyone else find it too fucking convenient that the woman who just happens to have broken out of the afterlife is Bjorn’s dead wife?”
“This is an attack on me. On the Brotherhood.” The embers of fury ignited in Bjorn’s belly. They’d all faced similar attacks over the past year. “But that was Lucifer, wasn’t it? I didn’t think the pantheons mingled.”
“They don’t, as a rule.” Asher steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.
There was only one person who could give them the information they needed.
Bjorn hated to wake her but had no choice. “Anja.” He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. “Wake up.” A little harder shake, his voice sharper.
She gave a small groan and weakly batted at his chest. “Not again. Go back to sleep.”
Asher snickered. Morrigan and Jo laughed outright.
His face was not turning red. The heat from the room was making him feel flushed. That’s all it was. Still, he couldn’t hold back the slight grin. He’d always been insatiable, unable to quell his need for her.
“Wake up.” Her eyes flew open. She sat up, clutched her throat, and began to gasp.
“Look at me,” he commanded. The sheer terror on her face almost undid him. When he found out who was responsible for that look, he’d fucking kill them. “You’re safe. I have you. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. Long seconds ticked away as she dragged in one shallow breath. Then another. He ran his hand up and down her back, letting her know she wasn’t alone, the touch as much for himself as it was for her. When she opened her eyes, they were filled with determination.
That was his Anja.
Her shoulders stiffened the moment she became aware they weren’t alone.
…
Anja tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to. She hated being the center of attention, especially among strangers. She scrambled up into a seated position, all the while wishing for a weapon of some kind to protect herself.
Bjorn might appear relaxed, but she knew her husband well and recognized the subtle signs of tension—the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he squinted slightly, the flare of his nostrils, the smallest curl of his fingers as he readied himself to grab something to use as a weapon.
“Everything’s okay. You’re safe here.” A tall woman with striking green eyes and red hair made the pronouncement from the lap of one of the most dangerous men she’d ever laid eyes on. And considering she’d known some of the mightiest Norse warriors—including her own husband—and had glimpsed some of the gods in the afterlife, that was saying something. “I’m Morrigan,” the wom
an continued. “That’s Maccus.” She pointed at the man holding her.
They weren’t the only couple in the room. The other pair appeared not quite as deadly, but looks could be deceiving. The stench of pure power practically overpowered the air in the room.
“That’s Asher and Jo,” Morrigan said. “None of us will hurt you.”
She wasn’t about to take their word for anything. She didn’t know them, but she trusted Bjorn to tell her the truth.
“I know you have many questions,” he began. His chest was bare, as he’d used his shirt to bind her wound. A wound that no longer hurt.
She grabbed her upper arm. The bandage was gone and her skin was unblemished. Astonished, she held her hand up in front of her. The skin she’d torn against the ground was healed. “What magic is this?” she whispered.
Or had she been unconscious for weeks and her body had naturally healed? “How long was I out?”
“Not long. I’ll explain later.”
The answer didn’t satisfy her. Only the gods could heal, as far as she knew. Unless this world had magic the likes of which she’d never encountered.
Before she could question him further, several tattoos on his chest caught her eye. The ones on his face and neck she knew well, having traced their lines many times. He’d had them for almost as long as she’d known him. There were more on his arms that were unfamiliar. But these ones in particular made her throat close and tears burn in her eyes.
She brushed her fingers over the markings. “You did not forget us.” Her name and those of their children were etched above his heart.
Bjorn grabbed her hand and flattened it over the runes. “Never.”
There was so much to be said, but not with strangers surrounding them. What he needed from her was her strength, to not show weakness before the others.
“I don’t know what happened.”
“What do you remember last?”
She closed her eyes to block out everyone and concentrated, using her connection to Bjorn to ground her. At first, there was nothing but a blank void. Then the memories came trickling back. “I’d served the last meal of the day in Freya’s Hall, as I normally did.”
“You went to Freya’s Hall?” Bjorn’s fingers entwined with hers as he lowered their bound hands to her lap.
She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes. Because of the way I protected our children, fought for them, she took me in.” Emotion threatened to choke her. “And because of my courage, because the children were so young, she allowed them to reincarnate, to live again.”
Bjorn tipped back his head, his jaw taut, every muscle in his body flexed to their limits. His grief was still so fresh after so very long.
“They are safe,” she told him. “A mother knows.” Her heart was settled, even if it sometimes ached with a loss too huge to put into words.
He sucked air into his lungs. None of the others in the room stirred.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She cupped his beloved face in her hands. “You were doing what you needed to do.” The men had been called to fight, to defend their land against invaders. Some of them had slipped through, but that was the will of the gods. “And you were with me in spirit. My love for you gave me the strength to fight even when all seemed lost.”
He nodded and heaved a huge breath. “What do you remember last?”
She understood his need to push the hurt and anguish aside for now and deal with their current situation. Many thought her husband unfeeling. She’d always known it was the opposite—he felt too much.
Frowning, she picked through her memories. “I went for a walk after. It’s something I do to clear my thoughts. I sensed something. Someone.”
“Who?”
She licked her dry lips, wishing for some water or ale to quench her thirst. Hunger gnawed at her, but she would not ask for sustenance. They had not offered, as custom and manners dictated. Another reason she doubted their sincerity.
“I don’t know.” A huge shudder racked her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Then I was in the dark in a place with no light, no sound, no smell, and no touch. I was simply there. Time lost all meaning. I could have been there for a blink of an eye or a thousand years. Then I was where you found me.”
…
Bjorn’s instincts screamed this was going to turn into a shitstorm of epic proportions. “Tell me more about the void.” Any detail she could recall might help.
She shook her head, her fear a living, breathing entity.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. The Allfather believes you willingly escaped. My orders are to find and kill you. Only I didn’t know it was you.”
Her eyes widened. “Why would he ask such a thing of you?”
“Later.” He wished he could put her off indefinitely. He was hesitant to speak Odin’s name aloud for fear of conjuring him, even though it was unlikely the god would be paying attention. He’d simply assume Bjorn would follow his orders and call out to him when it was done.
“It was complete nothingness. When I screamed, there was no sound. It was sucked into the blackness. Swallowed whole, as I was.”
Maccus swore and stood, setting Morrigan on her feet beside him.
“What do you know?” Bjorn asked.
“The gods travel from realm to realm through rifts in time and space. They can create them to take them where they wish to go. It’s conceivable a god could stash a person in one of them and retrieve them at another time.”
“So Lucifer could have a hand in this.”
“Lucifer? Who is Lucifer?” Anja asked.
“King of the Underworld for another pantheon—the Christians. There are many more gods out there, all with their own worshippers.” The idea of them working together against the Brotherhood was a scary thought.
She nodded. “I’d heard talk of that in the hall among some of the newly arrived. I’ve heard of the Christians who worship only one god. But if this Lucifer rules their Underworld, is he not a god?”
“In Christian mythology, he is a fallen angel.”
“A fallen angel?”
“Trust me,” Maccus interjected. “Lucifer is an archangel who has delusions of being a god or at least a demigod. It would be too dangerous for him to enter another realm. His presence would be detected, no matter how fast he was. That kind of power leaves a residue and would not go unchallenged.”
“So we’re still looking for an inside man.” That made sense to Bjorn.
“Or woman,” Maccus pointed out.
“Did you feel or hear anything at all before the void?” He hated to push. She was too pale. Her clothes torn, her hands and arms still covered in dirt and grime from her earlier trauma, in spite of his efforts to clean her. She smelled of sweat and other unpleasant odors that had likely come from the alley.
He moved in closer, sniffing her neck.
“What are you doing?” His move surprised her, but she didn’t push him away.
“Smelling you. I want to see if I can scent anyone or anything.” He’d been too focused on simply inhaling her special fragrance earlier to even notice anyone else.
She laughed. The sound ripped through him, piercing his heart. His cock swelled and his palms itched to stroke every inch of her lush body. It had been far too long since he’d heard that precious sound.
“You’re an amazing tracker, husband, but you’re not an animal. Even you have limits.”
She had no idea what he’d become, what he could do. He lowered his head and kept moving down her body, stopping at her waist.
“I scent something dark and powerful. Slippery to catch. Definitely a god. And I think I know which one.”
He gritted his teeth to keep from howling his rage. If he had his way, all the gods would be destroyed. Even the so-called
benevolent ones often tampered with humans and their fates. They’d run amok since the dawn of time, creating havoc and leaving destruction in their wake.
“Who?” Maccus asked.
“Loki. I thought it odd Odin came to me when you were in Freya’s Hall. If Loki went to him with the information…”
Anja grew even paler, her skin almost translucent. “I have done nothing, but the gods will destroy me. Freya will believe I betrayed her.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He knelt before her and took her hands in his.
“You cannot stop them. Your heart is brave, your sword arm strong, but you are still only a man, Bjorn Knutson.”
He shook his head. “I have not been a man for more than fourteen hundred years. Do you not wonder why I did not find you?”
She nodded. “Many times. When I wasn’t cursing you, I prayed you were in Valhalla or that you had been reincarnated to serve the gods. I feared you had forgotten me.”
“Never!” It was time to tell his wife the truth. “I am much more than a man. I am a member of the Forgotten Brotherhood.”
Chapter Four
Love for her husband filled her heart to overflowing, but the frown on his face had her stomach in knots.
She licked her dry lips. “What is this Forgotten Brotherhood?” She eyed the other powerful men in the room. They were still, watchful. “Are they members as well?”
“The first rule of the Brotherhood is we don’t talk about the Brotherhood.” Asher paused a moment and shrugged. “Come on. No one? Not even a small smile? You’re a hard audience.”
Anja had no idea what he was talking about.
Jo patted his arm. “I get the reference to the movie Fight Club, but I don’t think anyone else does.”
They’d lost her now. Anja was adrift in this strange new world with its tall buildings and odd weapons.
Maccus glared at Bjorn. Again, her fingers itched to hold a knife. She didn’t think he was intentionally trying to intimidate her. This seemed to be how he moved through the world.
Bjorn Cursed Page 3
