Weaving Fate (The Omega Prophecy Book 2)

by Nora Ash

  “I know. Our bond is the one thing that isn’t complicated to me,” he said, his voice still quiet. “Everything else around us, yes. But not this.”

  I opened my eyes again to look at him, the memory of his regret at claiming me flickering in my chest. “How can you say that when you wish you’d never created it?”

  The words escaped me before I could bite them back, bitterness tingeing my voice. A stab of agony flared through that bond, and guilt instantly made me regret saying anything.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I don’t blame you. Either of you. This wasn’t what any of us wanted.”

  “It was what I wanted,” he said, his voice rougher than I’d expected. He pressed his free hand to his heart. “I wanted our bond and everything that came with it. I wanted you to love me like I love you.

  "Yes, I wish I’d never claimed you, because the agony of knowing that my mate hates our bond? Wouldn’t have chosen me if she’d had a choice? Knowing you’ll never love me? It’s fucking unbearable!”

  He threw the bowl to the ground with a clatter, stew sloshing out to stain the fur bedding before burying his face in both hands with a groan.

  “That’s… That’s why you regret claiming me?” I asked. “Because you think I wouldn’t choose you willingly?”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he groaned without looking up. “I feel every ounce of your despair. You fucking cried after I claimed you. You told us that you wouldn’t have done this if you’d had a choice.”

  “Bjarni…” I put down my own bowl of food and rolled up on my knees so I could touch his bicep. “I cried because your claim… it showed me how fucked up everything else is. It felt… so right. Like we’re two pieces of a puzzle. And I… I feel so much for all four of you, I’m… I’m a part of all four of you, and it’s tearing me to pieces.

  "I didn’t want Magni to claim me. I didn’t want Saga to claim me. But they did, and it was painful—is painful. Like they forced their way into my heart, and it’s rough and violent and I miss them. All the time, every second of every day, I feel incomplete without them. Like I’m missing two limbs.

  “And then there is Modi. Modi…” I swallowed thickly, the pain of that bond still too raw to prod at. “Modi doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want me. With you, for a moment, it felt… so easy. So perfect. I was happy. And I finally understood what a mating bond is supposed to be like. It’s supposed to be pleasure and love and comfort.

  “I cried because I realized that I will never be whole like I was in that one moment with you. Because I can never be whole again. No, I wouldn’t have chosen to be pulled apart by five alphas who are only with me because Fate has decreed it so. But… I would have chosen you.”

  He looked up at me then, the emotion in his eyes so intense it took my breath away. “Do you mean that? Had Ragnarök not been here, had no Norns interfered, would you still have been mine?”

  I pushed down the anguish of imagining a world where three of my mates weren’t a part of me and looked into my blond alpha’s eyes. My sweet one, the one who went out of his way to comfort me, cook for me, dote on me, even with the world in turmoil and our bond in tatters. The one who loved me simply because he did.

  “Yes, I would."

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, a fine web of happiness amidst the anguish. With a rumbling grunt, he moved to clasp my nape in one big hand, pulling me up and in until our foreheads touched.

  “That’s enough. I don’t need anything more than that.”

  “It feels so easy with you,” I murmured, reaching up to wipe at the tears trickling down my cheeks. “I wish I could give you the same comfort you give me, but I am… so broken. I don’t think I can give any of you much of anything, but I wish… I wish I could.”

  “You do,” he said, moving to ghost his lips over my brow and pull me into his lap, enveloping me in warmth and woolly, hay-scented comfort. Even now, thousands of miles from his farm in Iceland, Bjarni smelled like the land he’d lived on and the air he’d breathed while he'd waited for Ragnarök.

  And for me.

  “I lost Arni and Magga. I lost my father. I thought I’d lost my brothers too. I would have, if it hadn’t been for you. When I hold you like this, it’s as if everything hurts a little less. As if there’ll always be hope so long as you’re with me. I love you, Annabel. And one day, when there is peace in your heart, you’ll love me too.”

  “What if there’ll never be peace?” I asked, looking up at him through my tears. I wanted so badly for him to make everything all right like my stupid instincts were clamoring for him to do. “What if I’ll always be this broken thing?”

  “You won’t,” he said, his soft voice taking on a core of steel. “This I swear to you, Annabel. I will help you find peace. I will be your comfort when everything’s painful and complicated. You’re not alone, my mate. I’m right here—and I’ll make sure that by the end, you will know happiness.”

  I fell into him, pressing my lips to his with a desperation I hadn’t known I possessed. I wanted everything he promised me, wanted to believe that he’d be able to keep his word.

  He kissed me back with matching fervor, and in it I found the truth: He would help me find a way out of the madness. Somehow, he would. My gentlest mate.

  “Bjarni,” I whimpered between kisses. “Bjarni…”

  He undressed me, never separating our lips for more than a breath, large hands covering first my breasts and then sliding low, finding where they fit so perfectly on my hips.

  His own clothes followed, a rumble of longing leaving his throat as I drew my hands up along his body to rest them on his thick pecs.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered. Somehow along the way I’d forgotten what he was—an alpha god in his prime. Seeing him naked in front of me, there was no denying it. He was big and thickly muscled, blond fur soft under my palms as I took in every lean angle of his body and face.

  He cracked a grin, eyes dark with hunger as they roamed over my bare form. “No one’s called me beautiful before, sweetie. Handsome, yes. Mighty. Big. But nothing so soft and gentle as beautiful. You’re the beautiful one, little omega, with your lush tits and those chocolate eyes of yours.”

  I sucked in a breath when he bent his head and took one of my nipples between his lips as if to underline his point.

  “Mountains are beautiful. Storms. There’s nothing soft of gentle about those.” I gasped as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud and slipped one hand from my hips to my clit, thumbing the hood shielding it. “I think you’re beautiful. Don’t tell me your masculinity is too fragile to take it as a compliment.”

  He grinned against my breast, the vibration drawing a moan from me before he popped his mouth off my nipple and pushed me down on my back on the furs. Looming over me high on his knees, he looked feral and fierce.

  “Are you really daring your alpha to show you there’s nothing fragile about his masculinity, mate?”

  “Maybe,” I breathed, excitement crawling up my inner thighs and right into my clit.

  Bjarni’s grin turned to a smirk, the look of a predator, and I bit my lip in anticipation. But when he fell on top of me, catching his weight on his arms, his expression softened.

  “Don’t push me, Annabel,” he said, voice rough but resigned. “Your exhaustion is painted all over your face. I’ll be gentle—this time.”

  Gratitude made me wrap my arms around his wide shoulders even as I pouted at him. He was right—I was worn to the bone, both from the magical exertion and the long walk to find Loki, as well as my heat and double-claiming before that.

  Once upon a time, back when I’d thought I’d never be the kind of woman to spread her thighs for an alpha, sex had always been soft and gentle. I’d thought that was how I liked it—a slow build that never rent me of control.

  Now I knew different. From the first time Magni had been inside of me, I’d known my body craved rough, unyielding submission despite my mind’s protest
s at the concept. In this moment, though, gentle sex sounded like chicken soup for my ovaries.

  I stroked a hand along his shoulder to his jaw, pulling him into a deep kiss by his chin. He hummed with want, ravaging my mouth with his in the most languid, exquisite way.

  I’d never known a kiss could be so undeniably laced with desire and yearning, yet so slow and gentle at the same time. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though; Bjarni himself was sweet and gentle, yet entirely fueled by passion and instincts, and his kiss showed me with all possible clarity exactly what kind of man my newest mate was.

  “Make love to me,” I breathed.

  “Gladly,” he growled, the velvet gravel of it pebbling my nipples and making my clit throb.

  He slid down my body, pressing kisses along my skin until he came to my flushed sex. Groaning, he sucked in a breath, scenting me.

  “Gods, you smell so good,” he rasped before he pressed in, splitting my labia with his tongue.

  His clever lips found my clit the next second, and then he showed me how an alpha makes love.

  Twenty-Five

  Modi

  “I wonder what Thor’s going to say about both his sons sharing a mate with his least favorite god’s offspring,” Loki said, his tone conversational. The swelling had finally gone down enough that he was able to make himself understood—not that that was particularly a boon, as far as I was concerned.

  “Does she moan as prettily when you’re inside of her—or is it more of a grit-your-teeth-and-think-of-Valhalla deal with you?”

  I shot him a glare, wishing with all I was that Bjarni would have managed to knock out his teeth while he was at it. “Quiet. Your cheap parlor tricks will not work on me.”

  “Sure. I guess we can just enjoy the peace and quiet, then.” He gave me a meaningful look just as another of Annabel’s broken moans momentarily drowned out the unmistakable sounds of flesh hitting flesh from within the tent.

  I knew Bjarni would bed her when I offered to take first watch again. She needed it to replenish her magical reserves, and one of us had to help her with that. As much as my cock had begged me to swallow my pride and volunteer, I chose not to.

  Last time I had taken her, I lost myself completely. I said words I never thought I would say, felt things I never thought I would feel. These were not sensations I wanted to repeat while Loki and Bjarni listened.

  But that was before I felt the elation and relief from them both minutes before the sounds of sex began. Whatever had transpired between them, it had changed their connection significantly. Now where I had felt pain and confusion in my connection to them, there was hope. Joy.

  Love.

  None of which belonged to me.

  "Jealousy" was too mild a word to cover the seething agony and fury bubbling in my blood as I was forced to sit and listen to Annabel give herself to another man like she never would give herself to me—and with none other than Loki as a captive audience to my suffering.

  Just. Instincts.

  “Do you enjoy listening to them? Is that it?” Loki continued after a long moment of silence save the sounds of sex from the tent. “No judgement—I’ve been known to indulge in a bit of voyeurism from time to time myself. It just surprises me, what with knowing your father. He’s all days been all about the immediate gratification… less so the subtle pleasures. Or self-sacrifice. I didn’t expect his proud son to be much different.”

  Fighting the urge to strangle him to release some of my pent-up misery, I got up to throw another log on the fire with more force than was necessary.

  “You speak on what you do not know, trickster god,” I growled. “If you wish to keep your teeth, maybe you shut your mouth.”

  Loki snorted, the sound somewhat distorted by a pained moan thanks to his broken nose. “I can’t help but wonder why you chose to mate the girl. I don’t have to do any parlor tricks to know you’re not exactly keen—much unlike my son currently enjoying himself. It’s not as if your father went out of his way to indebt her family a thousand years ago.” His tone was sour. “I’m dying to know why you and your bastard brother decided to ruin my carefully laid plans.”

  “There is a prophecy. Supposedly we can stop Ragnarök by mating her,” I said, avoiding his too-sharp eyes by staring into the fire. “What kind of gods would we be if we did not try to stop the end of the world?”

  “Yes, how very heroic of you.” Loki’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You could be fighting the hordes of Jotunheim alongside your boneheaded father, but instead you’re sat in Midgard listening to another man pleasuring your omega. I’m certain your sacrifice will go down in history, Thorsson.”

  I ground my teeth until the growl threatening to escape my throat was under control. I knew he was needling me—trying to get under my skin. Under different circumstances it would have been easier to resist his trickery, but my blood was already hot and itchy with pent-up frustration.

  The sound of Annabel’s keening climax did nothing to help.

  “Perhaps the man willing to sacrifice his sons to save his own hide should not speak too loudly of heroism,” I bit.

  “Please. Where is your father, young one? Why isn’t he here with you trying to drag me back to Asgard by my ear? His son also faces Odin’s wrath, should you fail in this ridiculous quest of yours. I wager he’s busy practicing his hammer throw and couldn’t give two shits whether you succeed or not. Who cares if that bastard brother of yours lives, so long as Thor finds his glory in battle?”

  Red-hot fury forced me to my feet. I glared down at him, hands fisted to contain my rage.

  “You shut your mouth! My father is nothing like you! The moment he heard that Odin took Magni, he came and demanded his release! You would not have the balls to stand up to the Allfather. Thor does. He sent me because he knows I will get the job done!”

  Loki’s gaze was darkly triumphant, no doubt because he had finally succeeded in his attempts at getting to me. I was too pissed to care.

  “Yes, I can see how much he stood up to Odin. I’m sure he blustered and blundered and threatened the old goat, and in the end, Odin shit his loincloth and immediately returned that half-Jotunn sibling of yours, right?

  "Oh, wait… No. That’s not what happened. Let me guess—Odin made his demands clear and Thor accepted, because deep down he doesn’t care about you, and certainly not his bastard. He only cares that you make him look good.

  "Who knows—maybe he sent you on this errand because two sons dead in battle against the mighty Loki is better than the embarrassment of all of Asgard knowing you’re both fucking the same whore his enemy’s spawn is soiling.”

  I moved before I could think, my fist connecting with his face with so much force his head bounced off the tree trunk he leaned against, and I felt the satisfying crunch of his cheekbone shattering against my knuckles.

  Loki howled, the sound doing nothing to stop my rage—but the look of fresh blood splattering from his face did.

  He may have been Loki, God of Mischief, betrayer of Asgard—and biggest fucking prick alive—but he was still my prisoner. My bound prisoner. I had more honor than to beat a defenseless man.

  Disgusted with myself as much as with him, I bent to hogtie him, ignoring his protests at being yanked onto his stomach in the snow, face buried in a drift. He was a god—he would survive.

  “I told you to shut your mouth, trickster god."

  Only muffled sputtering answered me.

  I stared down at him thrashing in his bonds, finding a certain satisfaction in knowing he was currently almost as miserable as I was.

  But the longer I looked at him, the more my muscles itched to kick him until he stopped moving altogether. The things he had said about my father echoed in my head, as well as the things he had said about Annabel.

  He had called her a soiled whore.

  Murderous urges throbbed in my temples, but they mixed with something else—soft moans of pleasure and ragged breathing from the tent.

  Som
ething inside me snapped.

  It did not matter that I knew my yearning for her was just instincts—that whether or not Bjarni screwed her from dusk until dawn, all I needed from her was her powers.

  Right then, all that mattered was that Loki’s spawn was fucking my omega, was spilling his seed inside of her uncontested.

  I crossed the small camp in the blink of an eye, tore through the leather, and forced my way into the small shelter.

  There was barely any room inside it, Bjarni’s bulk filling most of the space as he rested on his knuckles over Annabel. She was lying flat on her stomach underneath him, head toward the opening and me, but too distracted with the knot my rival had shoved up her pussy to notice my presence.

  Bjarni, on the other hand, looked up at my violent entry, breath coming out in heavy puffs as we locked eyes. I saw the question in his gaze, the evaluation of whether or not my rage presented a threat, and then the last thing I had expected to see: understanding.

  “Give us a minute,” he said, still panting. “I’m tied.”

  That fucking tie. All I wanted was to rip him off her and take his place in her velvety tight heat, but I knew doing so would hurt my mate. The thought alone made me sick, and I growled in frustration.

  Annabel finally looked up then, her eyes dazed. “Modi?” she croaked, voice thick from her recent climax.

  My name on her lips made me shudder. Gods, what sorcery had been encoded into my biology that one word from her had me quaking with longing?

  “Modi, is… is something wrong?” she asked around a tight grimace, her breath hissing out in a curse when Bjarni shifted, his tie pulling on her undoubtedly well-fucked pussy.

  I did not reply, the shiver traveling up my spine this time heated. I liked seeing her like this, and that realization was sudden and horrifying. Or it would have been horrifying if my dick had not redirected most of my blood supply, and with it, my ability to think.

  As I stared from her swollen lips to where Bjarni was so intimately connected with her, in our bond I felt how open and vulnerable she was, how completely conquered. How much he thrilled at the sensation of having her trapped on his dick, an alpha’s pleasure weaving through the gentler emotions of his love for her.