by EE Silver
“I do like the way you think,” Trey said. “Burgers sound okay?”
Surprisingly, they did manage to get dressed and go for food once Trey’s knot went down, even though Hunter wasn’t the only one having trouble keeping his hands to himself. Then again, it wasn’t every day a guy met his fated mate after literally thousands of years of waiting. All he could think about was getting his werewolf alone and getting the both of them naked again, this time taking his time exploring the gorgeous body that was going to be his to enjoy for all time.
But fate had other plans for them. Just as they were finishing up their dinners at a local all-night greasy spoon, lingering of inconsequential conversation that was just a way to tease themselves a little longer with anticipation, Trey’s phone rang.
“Yeah?” he said, not taking his eyes of Hunter as he answered. “Wait, slow down. Run that by me again.”
Foreboding tickled in Hunter’s gut, and he knew their evening was already over.
“What the fuck are you doing that far out of town, man? You know we’re waiting on wheels up.” Trey ran a hand over his scalp and huffed in irritation. “No man, of course I’ll come get you. You know that. Just stay put, I’ll be there in an hour. Yeah. I got you.”
He disconnected the call, apology written all over his face.
“It’s okay,” Hunter said, before things could get weird. “Tell you what: meet me at that bar across the street tomorrow night, eight o’clock. We’ll talk, have dinner, and see if that chemistry is just as good the second time around.”
“Oh, it’ll be even better,” Trey assured him, standing and reaching for his wallet.
“I got it. You can get tomorrow night. Go help your friend.”
Hunter was rewarded with a dazzling smile and a lingering kiss. “See you tomorrow night,” Trey said, and then he was out the door.
Sighing happily, Hunter leaned back in the booth, smiling stupidly.
“You’re going to have to cancel that date,” Rowen said, walking up to the table.
“Fuck you,” Hunter said with a good-natured grin. “He’s my fated mate, he fucks like a dream, and there is nothing in this realm or ours that could keep me from seeing him again tomorrow.”
“The Sisters call,” Rowan said, his face serious. “they need us to come home right away.”
Nothing except for that. Hunter’s mood crashed. There was no ignoring a call from his sisters, the very weavers of fates both mortal and immortal. “I only just found him,” he whined.
Rowen’s face softened. In the artificial light inside the diner, his blond hair looked baby-fine and with his smaller stature, he seemed almost angelic, even if his news was the furthest thing from heaven-sent Hunter had heard in years.
“You’ll find him again,” Rowen promised. “He’s your fated. Now that you two have met, nothing can keep the two of you apart forever.”
“Yeah,” Hunter sighed. It was just a delay of a few days. And then he’d have the rest of forever to make up the time.
Chapter Two
Hunter
San Francisco - Present Day – November 15
The first thing Hunter noticed when he woke was his cell phone ringing insistently from its spot on his nightstand. The second thing was that he was seconds away from losing what dinner he’d managed to choke down the night before. He scrambled out of bed and into the en suite, his knees hitting the tile floor mere seconds before the heaving started. His stomach wrenched violently, but all he brought up was bile and mucus, like usual for these early morning episodes. As if there was anything normal and usual about what was wrong with him.
Goose bumps and sweat broke out across his body simultaneously, and Hunter shuddered as his body seemingly tried to turn itself inside out. Even for a mortal omega, this amount of violent retching would have been concerning, but for a god to experience it was virtually unheard of, and certainly not for this long. Morgan, ever the overbearing big brother, had a lot of choice words on the matter, but Hunter had gotten good at ignoring him over the years.
Gasping through the pain radiating from his stomach, Hunter clung to the toilet bowl for long minutes after the last of the dry heaves stopped. In the other room, his phone starting ringing, the irritating trill he’d set for his well-meaning and overly helpful family drilling into Hunter’s skull to set up shop as a migraine to go with the nausea. Hunter groaned in relief when the call went to voicemail and fumbled to flush the toilet before standing and brushing his teeth. Whoever was calling could damn well wait for Hunter to call back once he felt capable to forming full sentences. Besides, if it was important—
The phone rang again before he could even get toothpaste on his brush. “Fuck off,” he muttered, and kicked the bathroom door closed. Not his most mature moment, but Hunter didn’t give a shit. Ragnarok was ages away, which meant whatever it was could damn well wait until he’d showered.
By the time Hunter was clean, mouth minty from and skin pink, he was ready to see whatever emergency had warranted so many calls before eight in the morning. Towel wrapped around his hips, he opened the door and groaned at the sight that greeted him.
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” he grumbled.
Morgan didn’t bother pretending to be remotely apologetic. “I called,” he said. “You didn’t answer. I was worried.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “I was in the shower.”
“You were throwing up again, weren’t you?” Morgan countered. “That’s the only thing short of a land war that can get you out of bed this early.”
“So what if I was?” Hunter said as he dressed. “Morning sickness is normal.”
“There’s absolutely nothing normal about your pregnancy, and you know it,” Morgan said, a deep line of worry forming between his blue eyes. “I wish you’d come home and have the baby instead of clinging to this crazy idea of yours that you have to wait.”
“We’ve been over this a hundred times,” Hunter said as he fastened his jeans over his still-flat stomach. Not for the first time, he wondered how it would feel once he let the baby grow. Also not for the first time, he was unable to picture it without also picturing how his mate would run his big hands over Hunter’s stomach as it grew with the life they’d made together. “I’m not having this baby without Trey there. I don’t care how long it takes.”
“You look like hell, brother,” Morgan said. “Your Imperium weren’t meant to hold onto a moment in time for this long. Time is meant to flow, and trying to hold onto the present is like trying to keep water in open hands.”
“I’m the god of the present,” Hunter said. “If anyone can do it, I can. And I’ve managed just fine for the past five years.”
“You’ve lost more weight, you have an entire set of matched luggage under your eyes, and you’ve been pregnant for a half a decade,” Morgan said. “What about that is fine?”
Hunter pulled on his shirt, doing his damndest to ignore the extra room that hadn’t been there a few months ago. “Did you come by just to nag me, or was there a real reason behind this little visit?”
Morgan frowned, but if past experiences had taught him anything, he wasn’t going to win this fight. “I’m heading to Vale Valley,” he said after a long pause. “Odin’s favorite grandson went and mated himself an omega right around the same time one of Njord’s oceanic grandkids found his fated alpha.”
“Remind me to send them stuff from the baby registries,” Hunter said, absently rubbing his belly. “But I don’t see what this has to do with either of us.”
“It’s not like the local OB is going to be equipped to deal with a divine birth. It would be like a human doctor trying to treat a shifter.” Hunter knew that, and knew that Morgan was one of the most accomplished healers among the gods, owing to his ability to see and understand the past and all the knowledge accumulated by it. It was part of why Morgan had been so insistent on him coming home and having the baby. Gods didn’t have complicated pregnancies very often, and when they did, it
never did bode well for the baby or the one carrying it. “You should come with me.”
“Why?” Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “So you can try to convince me to join in the baby madness?”
“No, but I wouldn’t object if that happened,” Morgan said with a shrug.
“Then why?”
“The Sisters made a prophecy.”
Hunter froze at the mention of their older sisters. The Sisters were old as Time itself, and some said they were Time. And Hunter had been avoiding them at all costs since he decided to hold his pregnancy back. But even he knew better than to do anything but listen if they’d spoken. “What did they say?”
“The first of a new generation of your Valkyrie will be born in Vale Valley by the end of the year,” Morgan said, casual as could be.
“There hasn’t been one born in a thousand years,” Hunter breathed, his stomach leaping—this time in excitement. Once upon a time, he’d commanded entire battalions of Valkyrie. But the mortals had stopped calling on the old gods a long time ago and the Sisters had stopped bringing forward more Valkyrie to replenish the ranks as the old ones left to find their own lives away from the battles that so often followed in Hunter’s wake.
Morgan’s smirk made it clear he knew how hooked Hunter was. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said. “And I have both sets of divine parents coming in for check-ups the day after. If you were interested in joining me.”
“Don’t be coy.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re way too old to be pretending to be cute.”
“You’re less than fifty years younger,” Morgan laughed. “If I can’t be cute, neither can you.”
“Whatever. Fuck off.”
“Very mature. You’re going to be such a responsible parent,” Morgan said, but he finally headed for the door. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Hunter barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, but he knew if he gave Morgan anything to play with, he’d stay all day. And Hunter could feel the morning sickness threatening to come back. The last thing he needed was for Morgan to see how bad things really were. “Get out of here. I have a trip to pack for.”
Chapter Three
Trey
Vale Valley – December 1
“Infrared shows heat signatures at the far end of the compound,” the XO’s voice murmured in Trey’s ear through the comms. “The window is holding, but don’t stop to sight see. Stay on task and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Trey clicked his mic to acknowledge as he took point into the next room, Curly and Rats on his six. Someone had been using it as a dark room, and there were still-wet surveillance photos hanging on lines. The air was full of chemicals, clogging Trey’s werewolf senses until he had to breathe shallowly through his nose just to make it halfway to the next door.
But just like every time, the dread crept up his spine, and Trey knew he wasn’t going to make it to the next room, much less the target. He heard the clunk of the flash-bang bouncing across the floor, and time slowed to a crawl, giving Trey just enough time to turn and see the betrayal on his friends’ faces.
“You were supposed to watch out for us, Chief,” Rats said, his baby face pale and blood-splattered.
Curly looked worse, the whole left side of his face burned and peeling back from his skull. “Why didn’t you have your head in the game?”
And then the world exploded in a shower of flames and pain. Not like Trey ever had an answer for them, anyway.
Trey woke with a scream, heart pounding fit to leave his chest. Sweat soaked through his t-shirt and boxers, and he flailed briefly as he struggled to free his legs from the blankets. He didn’t realize how close he was to the edge of the bed until he fell out, hitting the hardwood floor with a bang, cursing when he slammed his elbow against the nightstand on his way down. Daisy whimpered, her tags jingling as she pressed her cold nose to his cheek.
“I’m okay, girl,” Trey managed, struggling into a sitting position. She ignored his pointless lie, and pressed her solid body against his, and Trey buried his face and hands in her thick fur, breathing deeply of her comforting dog smell. Her tail wagged, slapping against the bed with soft, dull thuds. Trey was tempted to sit back and let her climb in his lap to better soak in the comfort she offered, but he had places to be today, and Daisy needed to be fed more than he needed to wallow in his nightmares.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness that filled his whole world. Not that it mattered. He still saw the nightmare in flashes no matter what he tried. With a shuddering sigh, Trey fumbled with the watch on his wrist and pushed the button on the side to activate the voice telling him it was six-thirteen A.M.
“New record,” he said with a wry grin. “Normally I’ve been up an hour already. Scott’s going to be so proud of us, Daze.”
Daisy huffed and pulled away enough to take her position beside him, nudging her head against his hand so Trey could orient himself enough to stand on shaky legs. She herded him to the bathroom so Trey could take a quick shower, rinsing the sweat and fear off his skin.
Five years. It had been five years, and he was still waking up to the memories of the last thing he’d ever seen. The fire, the exploding bottles of silver nitrate. He shuddered even as he ran his fingers along the wall until he found the faucet and did his best to ignore the lingering terror in the back of his mind. Scott had told him time and again to replace the phantoms of his dreams with real experiences, to ground himself in the here and now, but the screams of his team mates as they burned alive echoed under the roar of the water hitting the tile and the acrid smell of sizzling flesh clung to his nose under the gentle scent of his soap.
He finished showering, and carefully stepped out of the shower, toes finding the non-slip matt right outside. Twenty inches to the left was the wall and towel rod, and he dried off carefully before heading to the sink to brush his teeth. He grabbed the electric razor and carefully ran it over his jaw and scalp, methodically smoothing his free hand in his path to check for missed spots. Not that it would really matter, because no one would dare to criticize the local blind guy. Still no excuse to slack off, though.
Dressed, Trey made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He popped open the plastic container holding Daisy’s food and scooped out her breakfast in the metal dish at his feet. The water bowl was still full enough from last night, so Trey washed his hands and served himself a bowl of cereal.
“Hey computer,” he said as he sat at the counter to eat his food. The home automation system chimed softly, letting him know it was awaiting his command. “Do I have any new emails?”
“You have ten new messages. Do you want individual or digest?” The soft female voice said from the ceiling speakers.
“Digest, please,” Trey said.
The computer read off the email titles and the sender names, going through four junk messages, three newsletters he hadn’t bothered to read since before the accident, a coupon for his favorite restaurant back in San Francisco, and a notification about Scott and Quintus’s online baby registry. Trey would have bet good money Scott didn’t even know Quintus had set up that list, but Trey still had the computer flag it for follow up later. The last message was from his manager, a reply to their ongoing conversation about licensing for some of his beats. With memories of the past still playing on a loop in the back of his mind, though, Try didn’t have the energy to deal with the future, so he flagged it too.
Right about when he finished eating, the dog flap rustled as Daisy came back inside from walking herself. Trey reached out wordlessly and she pressed against his leg with a soft huff, her tail thudding against the floor in happiness. Trey buried his hand in the thick fur on the back of her neck, feeling cold moisture. “Is it raining, girl?” he asked. She didn’t answer, of course. “Hey, computer, what’s the forecast for today?”
“High of 42, low of 28. It is currently raining, but the skies should clear up by noon. As a reminder, you have an appointment at nine-thirty this morning.”
“Thank you,” he said. The computer beeped in response, going back into stand-by. Three steps to the right got him to the end of the breakfast bar, and four steps forward got him to the sink. He rinsed his bowl, then carefully felt his way over to the dishwasher. It was unlocked, signaling that any dishes inside were also dirty, so he added the bowl and spoon before whistling for Daisy.
“Let’s go work out, girl,” he said, and Daisy yipped happily.
He had a pair of modified manual treadmills in the back office, one set up for Daisy to use alongside his. The other one was wired into the home computer system, allowing him to track his mileage. The occupational therapist still wouldn’t let Trey use the weights without supervision, but at least she’d signed off on the indoor cardio so long as he used the fall sensors. It rankled to be restricted by a beta wolf, but Trey had learned the hard way over the past five years that he wasn’t the same alpha wolf he’d been before.
He ran for an hour, feet pounding on the treadmill belt with a steady cadence over and over. Sweat soaked his shirt and his heart pounded in his chest as he did his damndest to outrun the creeping terror that still lingered from his dream. The problem was he couldn’t escape the reality of his past, and days like this it was harder than usual to remind himself that he was supposed to be letting go, not running away.
“Mileage and time check,” he said when the pleasant burn of exertion had properly settled into his thighs and glutes.
“You have run seven miles over forty-five minutes,” the home computer said. “Recommend you begin a cool down program.”
Trey grunted in irritation at his own house telling him what to do, but followed the suggestion. Once he was done, he took a second, quick shower to get the sweat off his skin, and dressed in jeans, t-shirt and boots. The computer chimed softly as he made his way back down the stairs.
“Mr. Shelton is here.”
