One breaks through and leaps for me, falling in front of me. I kick back with a scream of my own as his bony fingers wrap around my ankle. One of the guys, a tall, lean gentleman with platinum hair and glowing blue eyes grabs the creature and easily detaches his head from his body.
Terror floods me as my eyes widen in fear. “Grace,” he says in a rich English accent as his eyes narrow on me. With a shake of my head and unsteady breath, like a baby deer, I get to my feet and back away from the man with the glowing eyes, only to run into another man. This one is laden in tattoos peeking through each tear in his shirt, a long reddish-brown beard that hangs to the base of his neck and a mess of brown hair tied in a bun. It’s his burning bright golden eyes that have me moving to get away from him though. Everywhere I look, eyes are glowing in the darkness.
A sense of self-preservation demands I flee. Finding a gap in the barrier, I take the chance to push through the throngs of the undead and run, unsteady legs and all, but I can’t let that stop me. No. I have to get away from these monsters, all of them.
Finding a rundown shed, I swing in and hide behind some old crates. Breathing through the panic, I try to figure out what the heck is going on.
How did I get here?
Where is here?
Who are they?
Who am I?
Killian
“Where the feck did she go?”
Killing the last of the undead creatures, I look around trying to find Grace. The look of pure terror when she looked into my eyes was unnerving to say the least. She looked as though she had no fucking clue who I was. Who any of us were.
An uneasy feeling takes residence in my gut and I know something is very wrong. We need to find her. We need to find her now.
Arguing from behind me has the hair on my neck prickling. “What the hell did you do to her?” Jameson points a finger in the face of Baler who stands nearly a foot taller than the younger man. While we don’t know Baler well enough to fully trust him, but he is one of Grace’s mates and she trusts him; that’s enough for me.
Placing a hand on Jameson’s shoulder, I pull him back a step before Baler knocks his teeth out or sends him into another dimension. The tension coiling through his body is clearly visible, with the tendons in his neck and jaw flexing, and his fist held tight at his sides. “Don’t be an eejit, Jameson. He wouldn’t hurt Grace and you fecking well know it. She trusts him and you should trust her enough to trust her judgment.”
Releasing Jameson’s shoulder, I move their focus to Grace rather than who to blame. “All right. Who saw which way she ran?” They each look to the other, waiting for someone else to speak. Everyone except Weylen, the fucker. His eyes lock with mine, his face passive, not even a twitch of a brow, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. What else is new though, he’s never cared for anyone except himself. He’d sell his own mother out if it meant saving his own ass. I do not trust him, and more than that, I do not trust the connection he has to Grace.
“Shite, just spread out and find her,” I command with an exhausted sigh. I’m not their Alpha but right now I’m stepping into that role. Egos and posturing have no place when the life of our unclaimed mate is at stake. “Feck,” I grunt into the empty air.
Weylen
I wait for the others to walk off, each headed in the wrong direction. Can Killian really not smell her fear? Some wolf he is. I raise a brow at his retreating back and smirk before I turn and head in the direction of Grace’s scent.
I know I should have said something, but I also know if we all show up at once and surround her, they will scare the bollocks out of her. Something about the way she looked at me, with terror and panic, not a spark of recognition, tells me she’s lost inside her mind. I got the hint of another presence inside her mind as well, one that wanted to scare her, force her to bend to their will.
Coming up on an old, rickety, grey shed with broken windows and missing shingles, being held up by the tree beside it; I can hear a soft distressed whimpering from inside. Reaching out with my mind, I can feel the waves of Grace’s thoughts. They’re tangled in a web of malicious intent, someone trying to keep her lost. They have taken her memories of herself and everything she knows and locked them deep within her mind.
Walking on silent footfalls, I approach the shed. Not wanting to startle her too much. I knock softly on the door. “Sweetheart, I know you’re in here and I promise you, I mean you no harm. I’m going to stay out here but I’d like to open the door so we can talk. Would that be okay?”
I can hear her heart pounding inside her ribcage, quick as a hummingbird. Her teeth are chattering together with the vibration of her nerves. Pure, undeniable, terror. I will kill the fucking sod that is putting her through this.
Power rises inside me and I know my eyes are glowing. Breathing deeply, I reign in that power, not wanting to frighten the little wolf any more than she already is. “Grace,” I speak softly, “may I open the door, please?”
“O-o-okay,” she stammers out, her voice sounding muffled behind a hand, or maybe a knee from being curled up in a ball in a corner.
I slide the door open slowly to find Grace sitting in the corner, half hidden by some dusty crates, her knees tucked into her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Showing her my palms, I slowly lower myself to sit outside the door. Her body visibly begins to relax at the small gesture.
“You’re safe, Grace. I know you don’t remember me to trust me, but I promise, I won’t hurt you and I won’t allow anyone else to either.”
“You… you know who I am?” she asks weakly.
“I do and I can help you remember as well, if you’d like.”
“Y-Your eyes, they were glowing earlier. I-I swear I saw them glowing.” With a shaky hand she points towards my face then wraps it back around herself. As though the movement will make herself smaller, less noticeable.
Deciding that honesty is the best way to build trust with her, I go for the truth. “You did. The power I hold inside sometimes comes to the surface and you can see that power in my eyes.”
As she considers what I told her, her hands begin to loosen their death grip on her legs, color returning to her knuckles. I tilt my head slightly and curl my shoulders in, taking a more relaxed pose. “How?” she asks me, like she wants my help, but she needs more information first. Smart.
“You and I have the ability to enter other’s minds. Mine is slightly different though. Where you enter through their dreams, I can enter them when I please.”
“So, you’re what, a telepath?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion as her nose wrinkles up, giving her an adorable bunny face and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes causing her scowl to deepen.
“I’m sorry, that was an adorable expression, Love.” Coughing, I school my features again. “Anyways, no, not a telepath exactly but close enough. I do not want to be dishonest with you, Love, but I don’t want to terrify you any more than you already are. How about we get your memories back instead?”
“I think I believe you, when you say you want to help me and that you won’t hurt me. I don’t know why but I have this feeling. Right here.” She rubs her hand over her sternum, and I smile softly at her.
Standing slowly, her eyes never leave mine as she walks towards me, standing beside me as I remain seated. She studies me a moment, then closes her eyes and tilts her head, like she’s listening to something carefully. “Yes,” she whispers. A shiver runs through her before her eyes open and she smiles down at me. “Okay, what do we do?”
Standing, I tower over her short frame, but she doesn’t shrink back and it pleases my inner demon that she doesn’t show me fear anymore. I don’t want my mate to fear me. Well except maybe in the bedroom, but now is not the time for that.
Slowly, I lift my hands and place them gently on her cheeks, cupping her face in my large palms. Again, she doesn’t flinch away. While touch is not necessary to reach her mind, the physical connection will help to focus my energy. Closing
my eyes, I let my energy flow from my core, through the touch of my fingers resting on her temples and soak into her mind. An invisible barrier pushes back against my intrusion. Poking around the barrier, I find a small crack and siphon as much power as I can through it before whoever created the barrier notices I’m poking around.
I focus my mind on finding the identifying memories of who Grace is, her history, her present, and her future. I find them scattered like a stack of paper blown by the wind or a game of fifty-two card pickup. Whoever caused this did not want Grace having an easy time putting herself back together. Finding her history first, I start to line the pieces up, starting with her earliest memories, one of running through the woods with her sister’s wolf. A smile graces my face as I see the happy little girl she was, with bouncing blond curls and a genuine smile.
Continuing to gather the shattered pieces of her life, I watch another memory of her teen years with cotton candy pink hair, in a short black and white tulle tutu style dress with a tight bodice and sweetheart neckline, spinning around in circles as the skirt flares out around her, making her look like a blossoming flower.
Grace’s body tenses under my touch as the barrier begins to force itself shut. I push more energy at the crack in an attempt to hold it open as I quickly try to arrange the memories, finding the most recent memories or at least the important ones. As much as I want to focus on her mates, memories of the danger we face must take precedence right now. Gathering the memories of her sister, fight training, Alastair, and the prophecy, I arrange them in order placing the last one about her wolf and her valkyrie powers in the pile when the barrier’s creator forces me from Grace’s mind.
I groan at the forceful exit and Grace whimpers. “I’m sorry if that hurt. Whoever created that barrier is immensely powerful, I have never seen anything like it. I hope what I did works.” Poking her mind again, I draw on her emotions. Concern, overwhelming chaos, but a flicker of hope at its center. “Do you know who you are?”
Moving my hands down to Grace’s shoulder, providing a steady force, her eyes flicker around taking everything in, a confused look crosses her features. The abrupt information dump is a lot to process all at once and I see her mind trying to sort it all into a coherent timeline, even though so much is still missing. Suddenly her eyes narrow, brows pinching together, and a low, guttural, and menacing growl escapes her. “Odin,” she barks through clenched teeth. My brows furrow at the growl before understanding dawns.
“It’s nothing,” she quickly says, trying to brush it off before continuing softly, “I remember me.” Confusion is still written in the slight movements of her body and in the expression her of narrowed eyes and pulled brows. Opening my mind to her again, I can hear her wolf’s longing whines as I slide my hands up and down her arms. “Who are you though?” she asks.
Leaning down into her space, I allow my eyes to glow in the moonlight. Running my nose along her jaw and down her neck, I breathe in her scent. A shiver runs up her spine and her knees begin to weaken as her eyes drift shut. I can feel the effect my barely-there touch has on her body. Snaking an arm around her waist, I pull her body into mine, holding her weight and pressing my hardening cock into her pelvis, allowing her to feel the effect her body has on me as well. Sliding my other hand back up to cup her face, my long fingers lace through her golden locks. Giving her hair a gentle yet commanding tug, I angle her head to the side, giving myself better access to her neck. A purr escapes her, cluing me into her wolf’s excitement. I allow my fangs to descend, two sharp points, and run them along the length of her neck from her shoulder to her ear. My lips coming to rest on the shell of her ear, warm breath blowing over the shell eliciting another shiver in her and drawing a moan from her lips.
“I am yours,” I declare, low and deep in her ear.
Her breath catches in her throat before she releases it on a heavy exhale and whispers back, “Yes, you are.”
17
Grace
“Weylen, you son-of-a-bitch, where the feck are you?” An angry voice carries from over the hill I had stumbled down earlier, causing me to flinch back into the safety of the shelter. The man I now know to be Weylen, huffs out a sigh of irritation.
“Killian, turn down your tone. We’re just over the hill.” Turning towards me, Weylen gives me an apologetic smile. “You’re okay, he’s one of your mates and he’s a bit on edge because you went missing. To answer some of those questions floating around in that head of yours. Yes, one of your mates meaning you have more, five in total. My name is Weylen, and I am one of those five. The arrogant ball of fury is Killian.”
“It’s not fury, it’s worry, you eejit,” Killian snaps at Weylen before his eyes flash to meet mine, an inner glow of something unearthly shining from their depths. I shrink back behind the old crates and Weylen moves to step between Killian and the door, effectively blocking his path. “Move,” Killian growls, low and deep, in a gravelly voice that lacks the Irish accent from before.
“Killian, look at her,” Weylen directs in a mixed tone of concern and command. Killian obeys the order and really studies me. I know I must look a mess with dried tear tracks running down my face, twigs, and grass poking from my matted rat’s nest of hair, covered from head to toe in dirt, and balled up in a corner hugging my knees, rocking back and forth.
“I’m okay. I just… I just need a moment,” I stutter out forcefully trying to reign in my runaway nerves, that fight or flight instinct pushing hard at me.
“What’s wrong with her?” Killian’s tone, though still hard, holds a note of unease to it.
Weylen places a hand on Killian’s shoulder, “Let’s go find the others. I believe this is something young Jameson will be able to help with.”
“Yeah, okay,” Killian says, never taking his eyes from me.
Mate. My wolf cries in my head as a flash of memories play like an old soundless movie through my mind. A jolt of white-hot searing pain like something cracking, chipping, and shattering resounds around my skull tearing a scream from me. That moment seems to last forever, endless pain and howls reverberating through every inch of my body. Then nothing, everything abruptly stops. No pain. No howling. Nothing except the image.
“Grace, what happened?” Weylen asks, crouching at my feet with his hands covering mine that are still holding my head.
I look up, seeking the man I’m looking for, my mate. Finding him standing in the doorway, I lock gazes with him. “Mate. My mate. My… Killian. He took it all from me, every single one, every memory, every feeling, all of it. He locked it all away, deep inside. But she broke one free. You,” I nod, “she set you loose. I remember you.”
Shifting my eyes to meet Weylen’s, I demand, “I want them all back. I want you all back. Make me remember, please. Break the barrier and give it all back. There’s a pit in here,” pounding on my chest, “it feels so empty. So many spaces where pieces are missing.”
With a nod, he stands and extends his hand down to me. “Let’s go find Jameson.” Taking his hand, I don’t ask who this Jameson character is. I have a feeling he’s another mate.
Stepping out of the shed, Killian wraps his arms around me and buries his nose in the crook of my neck. “I’m so sorry I was scared of you,” I’m quick to say.
He pulls back and gives me a puzzled look. “Grace, that wasn’t your fault. I came in here all wolfed out and snarling, and with your memories gone, why wouldn’t you be scared? You were right to be scared. Never ignore your instincts, they will keep you safe. Besides, what do they tell you now?”
I smile up at him, confirming what I feel. “I couldn’t be safer. Here in your arms, I’m safer than anywhere else.” He bends down and gently places his lips on mine. I push up on my toes and forcefully take his mouth with my own, tracing the edge of his lips with my tongue, coaxing him to open up to me. With a deep rumbling, possessive growl, he does, and I drive my tongue inside to tango with his.
His hands snake down to the backs of my thighs and he lifts
me up so I can wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. A weight settles against my back and an English accent fills my ear. “As hot as this is, and trust me, it’s hot as fuck, we really need to get back to the others.” Before sliding away, he sucks the shell of my ear between his teeth and gives it a bite, just on this side with the right amount of pain, causing me to buck my hips into Killian. The friction caused by the move, pulling a moan from me and a groan from Killian.
“Before we mate right here outside an old rundown shed, we should go,” Killian forces past his lips as he slides my body down his, sending another wave of shivers up my spine.
“Right. Jameson. Other mates. Memories.” I nod as I try to gather my thoughts back into a sense of order.
Weylen stands behind me chuckling at the sight of us, and I have to wonder what the history is between these two. The tension between these guys is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I narrow my eyes on Killian then turn and do the same to Weylen, who raises one perfectly manicured brow at me. “What?” he asks in that sexy, pantie melting accent that I will never get enough of.
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on between you two. There’s obviously a story there.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Beautiful. Come on, we have bigger things to worry about and the sooner we get your memories back, the better.” Weylen grabs my hand and leads me up the hill, Killian coming up on my other side to take my free hand.
As we crest the hill, I see three more guys standing around with equally worried expressions on their faces. “I’m guessing they’re all my mates,” I whisper to no one in particular.
Death's Gift: Norse Blessed Book One Page 15
