Death's Gift: Norse Blessed Book One

by B. Livingstone

  Somewhere between climbing on Riley’s back and arriving at the pack house, I had dozed off. I wake to the feeling of Riley attempting to shake herself out without knocking me off. Lifting my head and looking around, I notice the sun’s position. The sun is just starting to peek out over the tops of the trees in the horizon. Sunrise, how had I slept through the majority of the trip?

  Sliding off Riley’s back, I have to take a moment to get my sea legs back under me. After hanging over Riley’s back for hours, they are weak and unsteady. Attempting to take a step forward, my knee buckles and I begin to go down when a set of strong arms reach out, wrapping around me from the side, steadying me.

  “Hey, ann. You all right?” a boy maybe four years older than me asks, his arms being the ones wrapping me up at the moment. He’s tall, a giant next to me, maybe six feet-four inches and 190 pounds, all muscle, I can assure you of that. His long light-brown hair, which looks to be darkening at the roots, has deep red highlights. His eyes are the brightest gold I’ve ever seen, almost as bright as the sun. Was that an Irish accent I heard?

  Wow.

  Shaking my thoughts clear, I focus on what he said and ask, “Who’s Ann?”

  He chuckles at me as his fingers dig into my side a little. “No one, unless that’s your name, mo stór.” Now I’m really confused and it must show all over my face because the handsome stranger still holding me chuckles again, his bright smile causing a glint to shine in his eye.

  A lightness takes hold deep in my soul at the sound of his laugh, and I can’t help the returning smile. “What does all that mean?” I whisper.

  “What that means, my dove, is first ‘hey there, are you all right? And no one here is named Ann, unless that is your name, my dear,” he answers slowly, using full English but still leaden in his Irish accent. Gods that accent is something.

  “Oh, no, my name is Grace. And yes, I’m all right. It’s just been a long journey to get here, and my legs are feeling a little wobbly.”

  His eyes glow at the sound of my name. A wolf peers out to meet me. I smile at this and on impulse, I reach up and lay my hand on his cheek. “Hello there.”

  His arms drop away as he closes his eyes and takes a step back, retreating as though I burned him. “I’m sorry,” I hasten to say, worry spiking my tone. “I…” I don’t get to finish the thought as he quickly takes off in the other direction.

  Jimmy comes up to stand beside me, his brows pulled together. “Who was that?” I ask.

  “That was Killian, another refugee. That was the first time I’ve seen him interact with anyone.” He smiles down at me before continuing, “I have a feeling that you, dear little one, are about to mix things up around here.”

  He might be right.

  “Grace?” My eyes look up into the same sunshine golden eyes, only this isn’t a boy, these eyes belong to a man. A very sexy six feet-seven inches of rugged biker man.

  I open my mouth to speak when I jolt awake. “Killian,” I rasp, only to be sucked back down into the blackness and thrust into another past memory.

  “Who are those boys?” I ask Jimmy as I study two boys that appear to be twins. One is standing with his hands raised in the air while the other looks to be performing some kind of ritual dance around him. He’s singing something in a language I’ve never heard before as he moves. It sounds Native American to me, but I can’t place the dialect.

  “It’s a ritual ceremony. He’s asking the Gods to bless them with a mate.” He listens to the words that the one standing speaks and continues, “He’s asking for a mate who is strong, fierce, protective. One who will be able to lead by their sides and who will accept both of them as mates.”

  “Both? Why, don’t they want their own mates?”

  Jimmy looks down at me with a smile. “They’re twins. I assume they’ve always done everything together, therefore they’ll love together as well.”

  I watch as they move, chant, and pray together. It’s a beautiful ceremony with fire and smoke, rocks placed ornately around them. Flowers and feathers laid around the rocks and woven into their hair.

  While I watch, I think about what I would want in a future mate, even though I will never have a mate, seeing as I don’t have a wolf. I would want someone who would treat me as an equal, not a damsel. Someone who will fight with me and not just let me win to stop the argument. I want someone who is strong enough to cry with me but soft enough to hold me in his arms when I want to cuddle or need the comfort. Someone to love me tenderly but also fiercely. Someone who will dominate me but also submit to me. Someone who can give as much as they take.

  “Hello there.” I’m pulled from my thoughts as the twins approach me.

  “Hello, I’m Grace,” I introduce myself, sticking my hand out.

  The twins both smile and one at a time shake my hand. “I’m Jameson and this here is Paxton.” I study the boys, looking for a subtle difference to tell them apart, other than their hair. Jameson has shorter hair while Paxton’s is shoulder length.

  I lean in closer, staring into their eyes. “What are you doing?” Paxton asks with a chuckle.

  Leaning in closer to Paxton, I answer, “I’m looking for the difference, other than your hair, of course.”

  They each laugh and that’s when I start to see it. Jameson’s smile lifts slightly higher on the left and Paxton’s lifts on the right. Jameson’s burnt amber brown eyes have specks of canary yellow around his irises. Paxton’s brown eyes are cinnamon with an undertone of garnet red, almost a mocha brown. Everything else is subtle differences like Jameson’s hair being a shade closer to onyx black or his jaw being slightly squarer and more prominent. Paxton has more of a muscular build and has a deeper tan, obviously spending more time in the outdoors. They are both very handsome and two guys I could see myself getting to know.

  “Are you here with Jimmy?” Paxton asks.

  I shake myself from my musing and focus back on his words not his looks. Come on, you would look too, what sixteen-year-old girl wouldn’t look. “Um… Jimmy… yes,” I stumble out. Real smooth, Grace. Thankfully, neither of the guys focus on my fumbling, rather they continue on.

  “How old are you, Grace?” Jameson asks me. I blink a moment at him. Blunt, isn’t he?

  “Sixteen. How old are you, Jameson?”

  He just smirks at me before he answers. “We’re seventeen.”

  We stand there staring at each other when suddenly their features begin to change. They each fill out more, features looking older, more mature.

  “Grace? Is that you?” I look down and see that I’ve changed too. I’m no longer sixteen-year-old me. I’m me, me. From now, me.

  “What the hell?”

  “What’s going on, Grace? How are we… where are you?

  “Aw fuck. I don’t know where to begin or how to explain this.” That’s when I feel that tugging push at my consciousness again. “No not yet… Listen guys, I’ll find you, again.”

  “Grace, what’s…” I don’t hear the ending of Paxton’s question as I’m ripped once more back from the dreamscape to the waking world.

  I bolt up, breath heaving, and curse loudly. “Fuck.”

  “I thought you really did not like swearing, my love.” A very sleepy Baler opens his eyes to watch me. “What is going on that has you this worked up so early in the morning?”

  “I just… I think I was dream walking in the middle of, well not a premonition because they were the past, but were specific memories. It’s all mixed up, up here,” I say holding my head. “But, I’m pretty sure I just found three more of my mates.” I look over and offer Baler a weak smile.

  “Gods, my head hurts,” I groan clutching my head between my hands. Baler moves to sit behind me, his legs bracketing my hips. His hands find my shoulders, his thumbs pressing along the sides of my spine from my shoulder blades up into the base of my skull. I can’t stop the moan that escapes me. “Oh Gods, that feels amazing.” Slowly my hands drop as I bring my knees up and rest my forehead o
n them as he continues to knead the knots from my back, shoulders, and neck.

  “How do you feel about finding more mates?” he whispers. I think I heard a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. Could he think that I’ll just toss him to the side?

  “Baler, just because I have more than one mate doesn’t mean I’ll leave you behind.” I turn slowly between his legs, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, twisting my fingers in his hair. “Listen carefully, Lover. I love you. I wouldn’t have kept my shit together in this place if you hadn’t been here. Every time I felt lost or out of control, you were there. You knew what I needed, even if it was just getting my butt handed to me, you knew and you gave it to me. You’re stuck with me, understand? I’m not leaving this place without you.”

  He leans forward and steals my breath as he seals his lips to mine. Infusing not only our bodies, but our hearts and souls. I can feel all of his love, passion, and devotion in that one act.

  I don’t know how long we stay that way, encased in the shelter of each other’s arms, mouths locked as we pour our feelings into the other through actions rather than words. When the lack of air starts to become a problem as spots begin to dance along the edges of my mind, Baler pulls back just enough to rest his forehead on mine. “I understand,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire as he tries to catch his breath.

  “Be patient with me, Grace. It has been a long time since I have been in a courtship, or relationship, I believe is the modern word for what we have.” I can’t help but giggle at that, a freaking giggle.

  “Oh, Baler. You have nothing to worry about. I know it’s been a long time, but you are doing great at this courtship.”

  He pulls back and smiles down at me before placing a quick kiss on my nose. When I next look up to him, his face is devoid of the gentle smile, but rather a more serious tone overtakes his features. “Tell me about your other mates. You said you saw specific memories of your past before you, what, dream walked into their dreams?”

  “I’m not sure if I was in their dreams or if I pulled them into mine. But it almost felt like being dragged from one vision of the past to the next. But at the end of the memory of our first meeting, it wasn’t the past them but the present them with me. I think it was dream walking because, one they saw me, and two they seemed surprised to see me.”

  “Hmm… yes that sounds like a dream walk, though I’m not sure whether you can pull someone into your dreams or not. We will need to go see Odin.” I groan at the idea of having to leave my safe space in Baler’s arms or the comfort of the bed. All I really want to do right now is curl up and go back to sleep. One thing I’m finding out about this whole dream walking ability is that it’s exhausting.

  “If I have to. I’m exhausted though, so no training today.”

  “Ahh, but that is the perfect time to train. When you are at the point of exhaustion and you want to give up, that is when we truly see what you are made of. When we really find the edge of your limitations. You, my love, have not reached yours yet.” He kisses the top of my head before lifting me from his lap, setting me beside him and works his way from the bed.

  I flop back and groan at the ceiling. “Today is going to be a long day.”

  12

  Grace

  Odin confirmed that I had indeed pulled the guys into my visions. He also stated that it was a rare gift to be able to pull non-dream walkers into one’s dreams, let alone a vision. Great, just one more oddity to add to the ever-growing collection that is me.

  Now here I sit, legs crossed, hands resting on my knees as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I’m supposed to be focusing on my breathing, controlling my emotions. But I just can’t seem to get my swirling thoughts to stop racing.

  Did the guys really recognize me?

  Would they be happy to learn they’re my destined mates?

  What would they think about the war they are being dragged into?

  God, I can’t do this. I can’t make the thoughts stop.

  “Grace?” Odin asks.

  “It’s no use. I can’t stop the swirling thoughts in my head. I mean, what if they hate that they are fated to be with me? Then there’s the fact that I’m dragging them into a war that has nothing to do with them. What if they don’t want to share me? Or what if they are already mated and ask me to share them? I don’t think I could do that.” I’m rambling, I know I am. But I can’t stop my fears from spilling out of my mouth.

  “What happened to the strong confident woman who stared down death’s door with her head held high? Who never backed down from a challenge? Who took what life handed her and never gave up? What happened to that determination and confidence?”

  Feeling called out and deflated, I tuck my hands in my lap and look down as I whisper, “She died,” looking up at Odin, a spark of anger flares in my core and I continue, “then I burned and was reborn into something I can’t understand because no one wants to explain it all to me. To make it worse, I had to see what the result of my death has had on the one person I love more than life itself and was told I can’t do shit to help her. So, I’m sorry that I’m feeling self-conscious these days, and that I feel like everything in my non-life is falling apart piece by piece.”

  Standing from my place on the floor, I start to storm from the meeting hall and make it halfway up the aisle before he quietly says, “You are right.”

  Coming to an abrupt stop, I spin on my heel, glaring at the God before me. “What was that?” I demand, disdain and loathing oozing with each word.

  “You are right. You need to know what is going on.” Standing from his place on the floor, he reaches towards me. “Come with me, please. I want to show you something.” Cautiously, I follow him.

  He leads me to a room with large floor to ceiling golden bookshelves lining each wall. The first is filled with rolls of scrolls. With each shelf, the method of record keeping progresses from scrolls to leather-bound books. “What is all of this?” I ask gently.

  “Prophecies.” I look at the number of scrolls and books, then look back to him. My eyes are wide with shock and confusion.

  “All of these?”

  Odin slowly moves into the room, stepping up to the shelf furthest from the entry. He reaches up and pulls down a small leather-bound book and flips to a page. Running his finger over the page, he approaches me. “Yes, Grace. Each scroll and book here are the records of a prophecy I had seen. Whether they have come to pass or not is another matter.” Looking down to his hand, he says, “This one is about you and your sister.”

  He hands the book to me. Careful and timidly, I take it.

  One born of flame,

  One born of pain.

  Two born to bleed,

  Two born will lead.

  Through death she will live,

  Through death she will give.

  One shall rise

  when one falls,

  The Mad King’s end marks

  The White Queen’s rule.

  With Grace she will free,

  Only then will you foresee.

  “I don’t understand. What does all of this mean?”

  “There is more to the prophecy than this, but to summarize, you and your sister were born to lead and stop the brothers from destroying the world. The ones who have plans to expose the supernatural world and enslave the humans. Changing Midgard forever.”

  “Hold on.” Blinking and shaking my head, trying to refocus my mind, I ask, “Who are these brothers?”

  Odin just gives me an are-you-serious look. “You know who they are, Grace.”

  “Alastair,” I whisper. He nods. “But who’s his brother?”

  “That information will be revealed in time.” With that statement I roll my eyes, because of course he would hold back more information. Unperturbed by my gesture, he continues. “For now, know that Fenrir has been traveling to Midgard to help curb their rule while we waited for you and your sister to do your parts to fulfill the prophecy.�
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  “I still don’t understand fully what my part is. I get the part about The Mad King’s end, assuming that is the fall of Alastair, marks The White Queen’s rule which is Riley taking her place as ruler of the shifters. But I don’t understand how With Grace she will free, Only then will you foresee. What is that?”

  “Continue training, Grace. You will understand when you finish the trials.” With that, Odin begins to walk away.

  What? My wolf whines.

  Trials, did he say trials?

  Placing the journal down on the desk in the center of the room, I take off after Odin. “Hold up there, Mister. Did you just say trials? What kind of trials and why do I have to complete them?”

  “If you want to come into your full valkyrie powers, then yes, you will need to complete the trials. They have already started, carry on with what you have been doing. The final two trials will come and go without your knowledge, ensuring the results will be genuine.”

  With that, he continues his stage left exit moment, ignoring my utter disbelief and shock.

  Now what?

  Fenrir finds me some time later, still standing in the same place Odin had left me. “Grace, what are you doing standing here?”

  “Huh?” My mind still in a confused haze as I meet his gaze.

  “Grace, where is your mind at?” Fenrir’s face holds an air of concern as his brows pinch close together.

  “Trials,” I whisper back.

  He thinks that over a moment before his eyes widen and brows fly in the other direction, and his lips tip into a smile in understanding and amusement. “I understand. The valkyrie trials. While it may be a concern in your mind right now, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. You have already passed one trial with no issues and I am positive you will pass the others with no issue as well.”

  Stepping up to me, he takes my elbow and leads me outside.

  Trying for a distraction, I timidly ask, “Will you tell me about you? All I know are the rumors and none of them paint you in a pleasant light.”