by Anne Marsh
Colden froze. He was listening—that was something—but I hadn’t offered him anything other than Eira’s name. He needed more. He needed a reason to keep me around, to take me with him.
“Erik and Leif talked a lot.” And now I was the one talking, the words tumbling from my lips one after another. Play it cool. Don’t blow your chance.
“About Eira?” Colden rested his hands on either side of my head, and the cave shrank around us.
“Her too.” How much could I tell him? How much should I hold back as insurance?
“I’m listening.” How could one man’s eyes be both hot and cold at the same time?
“They talked about Ragnarök.” I inhaled. Exhaled to steady my nerves. “They were working a deal with Nidhug.”
I’d seen the dragon once when he’d landed on the ice plain outside our cave. In terms of piss-your-pants scary, Nidhug rated a twelve on a scale of one to ten. He made Colden look like the tooth fairy. The dragon was about a gazillion feet long, green, scale covered, and came with wings. Rumor had it that the dragon drank blood from dead bodies, and rumor was easy to believe when you looked at the pair of fangs he sported. The battlefields of Ragnarök would be like his own personal fast-food drive-through where he’d stomp around devouring dead bodies.
“You’re gonna tell me more,” Colden growled, lowering his head so close that his mouth almost brushed mine. Holy. Crap. My reaction to Colden was all kinds of wrong, but I still wasn’t going to pony up the information he wanted without some kind of guarantee from him.
“Not likely,” I said. I’d bet he could feel each word on his mouth.
Did I look suicidal? Wait. I lived with a werewolf pack in the middle of Greenland. I had a fire instead of central heating. The answer to that question was a resounding yes.
A smile tugged at his mouth. He was even more lethal when he smiled.
“You’re gonna tell me everything,” he repeated.
Colden
Vikar’s shock troops had spent a month kept in cells hidden deep beneath Las Vegas. Let out only to fight to the death in an illegal fight ring, we’d done what we needed to survive. The revenge part had come later, when Vikar had busted us out. We’d had his back like always, and we’d fought our way free together. The Vegas crowds had loved watching us go berserk and tear into our opponents. Our captors hadn’t been able to break us, however. After kicking ass, we’d ridden out of there. This Ragnarök business, however, threatened our accomplishments since then, so it had to be stopped.
Keeping secrets wasn’t an option. Whatever Bera knew, she shared, and I’d do whatever it took to get the words from her. I still didn’t want to hurt her, but that didn’t leave me without options. I could play games with her that she’d probably never even dreamed of. I didn’t get the sense that Bera was all that worldly despite having been a werewolf for the better part of a year.
“I’m waiting,” I growled, making my voice mean and hard. She needed to understand that I was the one in charge here, and yet I gave in to the urge to thread my fingers through her hair. Bera had the prettiest hair, all silky and smooth. It was soft, like her, but it also had a mind of its own. Curls clung to my fingers, spring away in directions I couldn’t have predicted.
“You tell me, and everything’s going to be okay,” I continued when she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Fuck. The silence was a bad sign.
“How can you promise that?” She looked up at me, suspicion written all over her sweet, bruised face. I wanted to kill Erik the Asshole slowly and then do it again just because I’d enjoy it. “Wait. Scratch that. Are you even promising anything?”
I rubbed my fingers over her cheek. She felt soft there too. Better yet, she kind of, sort of eased into my touch.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you. That’s a promise.”
“In exchange for what I know,” she said, sighing. I’m a stupid sap, because her breath teased my skin. Such a little thing, but I was completely enthralled. The badass berserker wrapped around a small, feminine finger. Granted, Bera was actually pretty ruthless.
“I’m still waiting,” I pointed out.
“I tell you all about Nidhug and where to find him. You go and get him to put an end to the pending apocalypse. And we all… live happily ever after?”
“That about sums it up,” I agreed.
She frowned. “I’m not sure where I fit into this picture.”
With me.
Bera
Funny how Colden didn’t toss out threats or use his fists. He was just there. I could feel every inch of him pressed up against me—and Colden had a lot of inches. I must have been getting better at living in the moment and planning for the future, because I didn’t even want him to back off. Nope. I wanted him right where he was, his dick pressing into my hips, his chest brushing against my boobs.
“You remember me, little wolf?” He looked down at me, his gaze heating up until it was part mischief, part sex, and everything about those brown eyes owning me spelled trouble. There was no way on God’s green earth that I would forget a man like Colden, and we both knew it.
“I shouldn’t,” I allowed and he snorted. His hand kept moving, touching me here, touching me there. It was almost possible those touches were accidental.
Almost.
“You wanted me to take Erik the Asshole up on his offer?”
There was no good answer to that question.
“I’m not into pass-arounds,” I admitted. I’d heard a thing or two about Colden’s shock troop, his Viking band of brothers, or whatever they called themselves now. Those guys liked to share a woman, and Tyra had whispered more than one story over the campfire. I’d been almost certain she was pulling our collective leg, however. There are physical limitations and zero possibility somebody my build accommodated two men of Colden’s build. He and his doppelgänger would rip me apart and not in a good way.
“Me neither.” He cupped my neck with his palm, the heat of his skin searing mine. His words sounded like he was making me a deadly serious promise. “So you tell me what you know about Leif and the end of the world, and I’ll make sure the right things happen for you. You’re gonna be fine.”
It was tempting. Just let go and let Colden take over. He was good at that, too.
A big hand slapped Colden’s shoulder hard, and he grunted. He didn’t move, though, didn’t ease up on me one bit.
“Fuck off,” he snapped. I couldn’t see who he was talking to because he was so goddamned big that he blocked my view of the cave. It was like cozying up to a giant. “I’m working here.”
That hurt. I had to admit it. I didn’t know where this crazy chemistry came from, but I was just a job for him? This was the part where I’d like to leave and get on with my life, but I was pinned in place by a wall of smoking hot Viking.
Turns out our interrupter was Vars. “I’m borrowing Erik the Asshole. One of us should double-check what he knows about Eira.”
The look in Vars’s eye was downright mean. My face must have broadcasted that thought, because Colden cursed. My Viking was no gentle giant himself, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who hit. Believing that was likely ten different kinds of stupid, but I did.
“You go ahead,” he said without taking his gaze off me. He didn’t let up when he wanted something, just pressed his body harder against mine. Between a rock and a hard place, that was me. What he didn’t realize was that I didn’t mind all that much. Colden’s body was a work of art, big and muscle-bound, and the rasp of denim against my bare thighs drove me crazy. If it hadn’t been so cold, I would have enjoyed myself more, but I’d take what I could because my life had flat out sucked these last twelve months and I was owed pleasure. Wasn’t I?
But I couldn’t quite stop the shiver that racked me. It was probably all of fifty degrees inside the cave system where we had camped, and I was barefoot and bare legged. A flannel shirt and a pair of panties provided nowhere near enough protection from the cold.
Colden frowned. Loo
ked down. And then he hoisted me up in his arms so fast I didn’t have time to protest. One big hand slid beneath my shirt, cupping my butt. I froze as rough fingers moved over my cheeks. He wasn’t groping me, not quite, but I was fairly sure he brushed the edge of my panties.
Oh. My. God.
“You need to know something,” he rasped, and his finger inched higher. “I plan on offering a reward.”
“I’ve got a wish list,” I told him. And it couldn’t, shouldn’t involve telling me exactly where to put his fingers. Three inches higher or so and I could be a very happy woman.
“So do I,” he said. “You wanna hear it?”
Not particularly, but I got the feeling listening wasn’t optional. Not unless I wanted to spill all my secrets and then scream take me, big guy. Whatever made him hold back that night at the bar, he was over it now. I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to figure out where to set my hands. He solved the problem for me by grabbing them and sticking them on his chest.
“I’m listening,” I told him, because right then honesty was so not my best policy.
“You give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want. It’ll be beautiful. A kiss, a fuck, you tell me how much and when.”
Wow. He wasn’t kidding around. I could feel just how interested he was through his jeans. But tempting as his offer was, I needed a get-out-of-jail-free card more than I needed good sex.
He slid himself against me, and my breath caught. Okay. Great. Sex.
I gave myself a moment to catch my breath, and then I found a previously undiscovered store of bravery. “Really? You think you’re that good?”
“Uh-huh.” He rested his forehead against mine.
Modest too.
“Freedom,” I said before I could chicken out or my hormones won. His gaze shot straight to my mouth when I licked my lips. It was a nervous habit, but wasn’t like I could hide how uncomfortable he made me feel. All I could do was hope he misunderstood the reason. “You let me go. I walk away from the pack, and you support me publicly in that decision.”
He tensed, his eyes heating. Yep. I’d pissed off the berserker. “You think this is a game? That half the lore won’t come after you and kill your ass dead for this information?”
This was my life. I was well aware that it was no game. “I need to get out of here.”
He met my gaze, dead serious. “You’re running.”
“Call it whatever you want, but I’m done being a werewolf hostage, okay?”
Shoot. Tell not ask. It had worked for Colden, and I needed to learn to do it, too.
“What if I don’t feel like letting you go? Mate?” He emphasized that last word as he hooked a finger beneath my panties.
What sucked was that he had the right to say that. Sure it was more the might makes right kind of thing, but I was stuck and we both knew it.
“I’ll take you to Nidhug. You can rescue your fair maiden. And then you… Let. Me. Go.”
Bera
“You could have babies with him!” Even’s mate chirped her little bombshell like I should be thrilled and immediately on board with the baby-making plan. Even had announced my new mate pairing, and Asta was unabashedly thrilled for me, which made explaining my bargain with Colden out of the question. And naturally, part of me—and that part and I would be having words with later—immediately imagined a little boy that looked like Colden. Heck, I didn’t even know if the Vikings could breed or if they shot blanks. When Loki created them, did he give them the goods to continue the species, or did he build in a little insurance?
“I’m not starting a family with a guy I just met,” I protested. See? That sounded mature and responsible.
Asta actually bounced up and down on the pile of sleeping bags. Apparently, mature, responsible statements weren’t a deterrent.
“You knew him before!”
I made a face. “Hello? We met in a bar. Erik offered to let him have sex with me. Trust me when I say that’s not a good basis for a relationship.”
My companion’s eyes widened, like she totally hadn’t seen that one coming. I had no idea how she’d survived with the pack for as long as she had. “And did you?”
“Uh. No. I don’t get off on the whole pimp-and-prostitute scenario. Plus Colden had passed. Vehemently.”
“Well now he’s got a second chance. Lucky for him.” Asta was clearly determined to look on the bright side. I kind of envied her optimism.
“I’m still not making him my baby daddy!”
Werewolves bred only male pups. That seemed like a biological liability to me, but what did I know? I was just the human female one of the wolves grabbed because he needed a convenient uterus. Maybe Fenrir had had some supersecret plan when he created the wolves and then limited their reproductive options. Plus it wasn’t like I had too many pre-pack memories anyhow.
Whatever’s in the wolf bite that changes your DNA and reinvents you as a hairy monster also performs a brain wipe. It doesn’t take away abstract knowledge—just the personal stuff. I knew, for example, that Erik didn’t find me in Greenland because I had vague memories of trains and cobblestone streets right before the teeth-in-my-jugular memories. I also knew my accent was American. Somewhere in New England, although not Boston or New York. But those were the only things I was sure about. I probably had family, friends, an entire other life, but all that was gone now, and what I had left was the pack. Like most new converts, I’d spent the first week or two in a blind panic, trying to force the memories to come back.
Then I realized that I had to make new ones.
That, or let the madness take me. Sometimes when a wolf bites a new female, her mind sort of fractures under the stress of it all and she never really wakes up. I don’t know what happens to those new wolves, but I doubt it’s good. They don’t stick around, and the pack doesn’t tolerate weakness. So I concentrated on making new, good memories for myself even if Erik the Asshole had done his best to undermine my attempts.
Funny, but my chance meeting with Colden was almost one of the good memories. Not that I wanted to have sex with a stranger, but I got the feeling even then that he looked at me, saw Bera. I wasn’t just some random female he was deciding if he wanted to fuck or not.
“If you don’t want to make a family guy out of him, then what do you want him for?” Asta made a face. “You can get sex anywhere.”
It was true that the pack certainly wasn’t hung up about casual sex.
“I want to leave,” I said, opting for honesty.
Asta’s face promptly took on the look people got when they needed to tell you your puppy had died or that Santa Claus didn’t really exist. I already knew that bad, sad shit happened (constantly), and that there was no one handing out presents. Still, I waited for her to say her piece.
“No one leaves the pack.” She actually patted my hand, scooting closer on our mound of sleeping bags. Ours thighs touched, our shoulders bumping.
“Is it a law?” That was the one thing I hadn’t been able to figure out. I knew leaving was highly discouraged, but was it actually against the rules? If I made a break for it, would the pack’s enforcers come after me?
“New werewolves always stay with the pack.” For the first time since Even sent me off with her to pack for my dragon-hunting trip, Asta sounded uncertain.
“Of course they do.” I pretended to be really, really interested in the contents of my duffle bag, but I snuck sidelong peeks at Asta’s face. She really was pretty, and I could understand why Even cared so much about her. Her outside was as sweet as her inside, and she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. After the viciousness of pack politics, it must be relaxing to come home to her at night. “New werewolves try to bite everything in sight. They’re rabid.”
These things were all true. I didn’t remember much about my first weeks as a werewolf, but I’d never forget the cycles of hunger and satiation. The overwhelming need for raw meat and the desire to rend. Eventually, it passed and I got control of myself. I wasn’t going
to run all over Greenland making new werewolves.
“I’m not a baby werewolf,” I pointed out. “So why can’t I leave?”
Asta chewed on her bottom lip. “No one does. Why would you want to go?”
I looked around our oh-so-spartan cave. “Three guess. The first two don’t count,” I said dryly.
Asta grinned. “Okay. The accommodations currently suck, but Even has plans. We won’t always be camping, and the company can be pretty great.”
That was because she had Even holding her hand, Even stuck to her side. He wasn’t my type, but he was a great type. It was just unfortunate that the minute I was shed of Erik, I got paired up with Colden. He was a sexy beast, but he was also trouble. I’d never be able to bend him to my will the way I suspected Asta had Even. She was smiling, a secretive, impish curve of the lips, and that told me everything I needed to know about her relationship. She was happy, she was pregnant, and Even was definitely doing it for her.
“I’m not asking to leave,” I told her. “I’m demanding it. If Colden wants to go dragon hunting, he needs to know where to go. I know and I’ll take him straight to Nidhug. For a price.”
“The dragon that chews on roots of the tree of life and eats corpses?” Asta passed me a pair of industrial-strength wool socks. Colden was determined that I not get cold on our trip. Asta made an ewwww face as she described Nidhug’s alleged eating habits, but the girl knew her Norse mythology. The fact that Nidhug seemed thoroughly unlikeable was actually a blessing in disguise. It made it easier to hand him over to Colden’s less-than-gentle ministrations.
“That’s the guy. He’s also scheduled to be a key player in the coming apocalypse.”
Asta shook her head, absolutely uninterested in the nuances of Norse politics and Armageddon. “I wish you would stay,” she said.
I had to give her credit. She sounded like she meant the words. But I was tired of being stuck, of being a prisoner and a pawn. This was my chance to redirect my life into a better channel.
