by Jane Godman
“Why did you choose Gunnar?” Her voice bounced back at her from the thick walls. “You must have had a reason.”
Gunnar grunted, but she sensed his interest. She was counting on what she knew of Fenrir. He was a narcissist. Get him on his favorite subject—himself—and he might just forget about her for a few minutes.
“It was a clever plan.” She cringed inwardly at the idea of complimenting him, but she went with her instincts. Flatter him. Coax him. Tell him how wonderful he is. “But why not choose another body? Gunnar doesn’t have a right hand. He’s a god. He’s wise, tough, experienced. Surely there were easier targets on Ulu that day? Kristof, for instance.”
“It wasn’t as easy as just picking a body and entering it. Usually it’s an exchange. The other person is willing. When I took over the body of that sniveling little worm, Jean Chastel, he was salivating at the prospect of becoming the great Fenrir. That day on Ulu, it was different.” It wasn’t Gunnar’s voice she was hearing in the darkness. This was pure Fenrir. Cultured, pleasant, evil as the pit of hell itself. “No one was open to me. So I had to take the path of least resistance. I did consider Kristof. He was nervous and covering it up by trying to swagger. But the only person who was struggling with his conscience was Gunnar.”
“He was conflicted because he was the person who raised you. Killing you was never going to come easy to him.” Amber struggled to keep her voice neutral.
“I know. It was a perfect opportunity for me. The brotherhood members all went through a brief period of wondering if they were doing the right thing, but, for them, it was never about killing me. It was only about killing me when I couldn’t defend myself.” His voice sneered. “It was an alpha male thing.”
“So you took Gunnar’s love for you and used it against him.”
“Exactly. It worked perfectly. At the moment he raised the sword to kill me, he was at his most vulnerable.” Fenrir’s laughter echoed off the walls.
“What if it hadn’t worked? What would have happened to your spirit if it had left Fenrir’s body, but been unable to enter Gunnar’s?”
They had been inching along the tunnel, but her words made him pause. “I don’t make mistakes.” It was a snarl.
Interesting. The image of his spirit having no place to go was clearly one Fenrir didn’t like. Where was Lowell when she needed an interpretation of that? She wondered if Gunnar—the real Gunnar—was conscious of any of this. Was he aware on any level of what was going on inside his body? Could he hear this conversation?
Fight him, Gunnar. For both our sakes. For everyone’s sake, take back control.
* * *
“Yes, I’m sure,” Kristof said, after Samson asked him for a third time. “I watched it happen. Gunnar tried to fight it, but Fenrir was too strong. He took over his body. Then these guys turned up and Gunnar dragged Amber away.”
Vigo paced the room, gazing out of the windows at the perfect view. He felt like his head was about to explode. “This is un-fucking-believable. Even after we’ve decapitated and burned him, he has still been able to take control of our friend’s body and abduct my mate.”
“And we have no idea where he has taken her,” Samson muttered.
Vigo turned to the two cowering figures on the sofa. Retief still appeared stunned after the werewolf fight he had witnessed. The Arctic werewolf had shifted back. Badly injured, naked, and covered in blood, he gazed defiantly up at Vigo.
“You two had better start talking.”
Neither of them answered. Vigo suspected Retief was unable to answer, so he turned his attention to the other man. The one with the distinctive voice. “If I’m right, and you murdered Lilah Petersen and Monique Taylor, there isn’t a corner of hell dark enough for you to hide in.”
“Go fuck yourself.” The gravelly voice chuckled. “But I forgot. Rape fantasies are more your style, aren’t they?”
Vigo surged toward him, gripping him by the throat and lifting him from the sofa. The other man’s face suffused with blood as his fingers clawed helplessly at Vigo’s hand. “I am going to enjoy watching you die.”
Samson placed a hand on Vigo’s shoulder. “I hate to spoil your fun, but we need him alive if he’s going to answer questions.”
Reluctantly, Vigo dropped his opponent back onto the sofa. “Where did Fenrir go?”
“Don’t . . . know.” The rasping note had reached new heights.
“There.” Vigo threw the word over his shoulder at Samson. “He answered the question. I can kill him now.”
Retief, roused from his shock, gave a shuddering sob. “Can I go? I don’t know anything about this guy called Fenrir.”
Vigo swooped on him, bring his face up close to Retief’s. The other man appeared to do his best to press his body into the fabric of the sofa. “So you just blew up a whole satellite compound, and all the people in it, for fun?”
Retief shook his head. “No. I did because Levin”—he nodded in the direction of the Arctic werewolf—“paid me to kidnap Amber. When I got her cabin that night and she wasn’t there, I called him. He told me his client was running out of time and patience. He told me to do something big to scare the fuck out of her.”
“I see.” Vigo turned back to Levin. The defiance was gone now in the werewolf’s face. “I still don’t understand the timescales. You planted the cameras in Lilah’s bedroom before you killed Amber’s pack. If Fenrir didn’t know who Amber was, how could he possibly know I would be her mate. Or that he would need evidence to frame me for murder?”
“Wasn’t about Amber.” Levin was having difficulty croaking out the words. “Stop you becoming leader. Bring down brotherhood.”
“What?” That was the most ridiculous thing Vigo had ever heard. Six years ago Fenrir had set a plan in motion to discredit him and stop him becoming the leader of the brotherhood? I was never going to become the fucking leader! Two women had died because of something that had zero chance of happening. Would the craziness that was Fenrir ever end? He thought that question had been answered on Ulu, yet he was still asking it.
“How did you know I was going to see Monique?”
“He told me. Fenrir . . .” Levin massaged his throat.
It was that simple. Vigo had believed his friends were above suspicion, not knowing that one of his friends—Gunnar, the man who he would have trusted above any other—was Fenrir in disguise. And he still had no idea where Amber was.
Come and get me. And, by the way, I love you. It was her voice. Faint, but unmistakable.
“She’s close.” He tilted his head, listening for more. “Amber just spoke telepathically to me.”
Where are you?
Nothing.
“If she’s close, he didn’t get her into a car,” Kristof said. “There aren’t many places to go around here. Apart from the mine, it’s all open country.”
“They could be in the forest.” Samson looked out of the window. “I should be able to follow their trail.”
“Kristof can’t fight. That means there aren’t seven of us.” Vigo ran a hand through his hair. Seven and only seven. Would he be the first leader to break the ancient tradition?
“Look like I got here just in time.” Sebastian’s smile lit up the room as he strode through the door. “Although . . . will you settle for eight?”
Cindy grinned. “I may not be an official member, but Odessa told us what was going on. Even if I only watch, I’m not going to miss this one.”
Vigo managed to hug them both at the same time. “You’re sure?”
“I got the all-clear from the doctor. I’m as fit as any of you,” Sebastian assured him. “Maybe fitter than Samson since I eat a lot less.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Vigo asked.
“A signal from our leader,” Wilder muttered jokingly.
“Kristof, if either of these guys move while were gone, you have my permission to kill them,” Wilder called over his shoulder as he left the room.
“Gee, thanks, boss. I kn
ew I signed up to this for a reason.” He heard Kristof’s sarcastic response as he closed the door.
Once they were outside, Samson sniffed the air. “I’m picking up both scents. Amber was scared, but she was also pissed off. Seriously angry.”
Vigo’s heart clenched. He had to cling to what Samson was saying. Amber was a fighter. She would use that anger to sustain her. They knew Fenrir didn’t plan on killing her. Vigo felt his gut churn at the thought of what he did intend to do to her. Focus. You are no good to her if you crumble.
“He took her this way.” Samson was following the scent, but he also pointed to the ground. The rough grass was patchy and, now and then, stones had been kicked up as though someone had dug a heel into it.
Where are you, Amber?
. . . mine . . . It was the faintest sound, as though muffled by layers of—what?—Earth? Rock?
“Wait. I just heard Amber’s voice. She’s underground.” Vigo pointed across to the opposite side of the mine crater at the opening to the shaft itself. “She’s in there.”
Samson nodded. “That’s where the scent leads.”
Vigo glanced around at the faces of his team. His team. He was amazed at the feeling of pride those words brought him. His turn. His time. Something he never thought would happen, but leading the brotherhood felt so right.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
“Quit stalling.”
The cultured smoothness had gone now from Fenrir’s voice. All that was left was the menace. The reminder that Amber was in the company of the most feared god of them all. A werewolf so destructive, the other gods hadn’t known how to deal with him. Only one man had been brave enough to face him. Now that man—Amber’s only hope—was under Fenrir’s control.
“Fight him.” She didn’t know whether she was talking to herself, or to Gunnar. Maybe the words were for both of them. “You can do this.”
“Shut up and shift.”
“I can’t.” She would try anything, any lie, to buy a little time. “I’m too new to the brotherhood. I still need the midnight sun.”
“That’s bullshit.” She caught a glimpse of his smile in the flashlight’s narrow beam. “I saw you shift on Ulu.”
“Help me, Gunnar.”
“Gunnar is gone.”
Amber wasn’t so sure that was true. At first, she had believed it was a trick of the dim light. But, after it happened a few times, she started to watch for it. It was as if she was seeing Gunnar’s features reflected in a rippling pond. Fenrir’s smug smile might be overlaid on his noble face, but underneath, the real Gunnar was still there, still fighting for dominance. And, every now and then, she saw him break through.
Just as he did now. This time it lasted for longer. “Run, Amber.” It was Gunnar talking, gasping out the words.
“No, we can do this together. If you can force him out of your body, his spirit has nowhere to go. That’s what he’s scared of—”
The punch knocked her off her feet. She saw stars as her head hit the rock. Gunnar’s hand caught the front of her T-shirt and he dragged her upright. “I don’t care if we do this as humans or wolves the first time, because we will mate as wolves eventually. And I don’t care if you’re conscious.”
“Sorry, Gunnar.” Amber hooked her hands around the back of his neck at the same time that she brought her knee up between his legs. When she went in for the head butt, she went hard. Tucking her chin in to protect her neck, she bent her arms and struck with the crown of her head, jerking hard and fast as she pulled Gunnar full-force into the maneuver. She was pleased to feel his nose crunch and warm blood spill over her face.
Where are you, Amber? Vigo’s voice was barely audible.
In the mine shaft. Hurry! Would he hear her? Would he get here in time?
She couldn’t count on it, and she knew her triumph wouldn’t last long. Although he had doubled up from both the head butt and the blow to his balls, Gunnar’s body was powered by the force of a destructive werewolf. He wasn’t going to stay down for long. Skittering on the loose rocks under her feet, Amber tried to run, only to be brought down by a blow between her shoulder blades that drove the breath from her lungs.
“It was always going to be nasty.” Foul breath on her face made her gag. “But you just made it so much worse.”
“Gunnar . . .” She pleaded as she twisted and fought beneath the body that pinned her onto the rocky tunnel floor. As his hands tore at her clothing, his knee forced her legs apart. “You can’t let this happen. You’ve got to keep trying.”
She wasn’t sure what happened. One minute she was straining every muscle to break free, the next she was free. Gunnar’s powerful frame and clawing hands were gone. The sound that echoed around the tunnel was like nothing she had ever heard. It was as if a thousand demons were being tortured with red-hot pitchforks. It faded slowly and painfully away to nothing.
A voice reached her ears from a long way off. “What the fuck was that?” She gave a shaky laugh. Trust Samson to have a phrase for every occasion.
Tentatively, she sat up, her eyes searching the gloom, seeking a reason for the sudden change. Gunnar was slumped against the wall, his body trembling violently. Slowly, she crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him.
“You did it. You fought him.”
He nodded, the trembling intensifying as he returned the hug. “I couldn’t let him . . .” He drew in a deep breath. “He wasn’t going to use my body to do that to you.”
She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “What do you think has happened to his spirit?”
“I hope he’s in hell, but as long as he’s gone I don’t care.”
In that instant, Vigo’s voice called out. Not in her head this time, in glorious, echoing reality. “Amber?”
“Over here.”
When he reached them, and saw her with Gunnar, he recoiled. “Kristof said he was Fenrir.”
“Not anymore.” She got to her feet. “It’s a long story, and Gunnar and I will both need your healing powers, but right now I need you to hold me.”
“I can do that.” He drew her into his arms. “I can probably do that for a long time.”
She tilted her head back, barely able to see his face in the dim light of the discarded flashlight. “Can you do it forever?”
“I think that could be arranged.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later
“We are the introverts of the brotherhood. So how did we end up having a big wedding instead of sneaking away to do this on our own?” Amber asked, as she surveyed the crowded dance floor. “Did we succumb to peer pressure?”
“I think there is an expectation that goes with being the leader of the brotherhood. There is no hiding away anymore.”
“I was surprised as you were when the others suggested we should become joint leaders,” Amber reminded him. “I’m even more of a rookie than you are.”
Samson, coming up behind them, beer bottle in hand, draped an arm around each of their shoulders. “It’s only because none of us want the job.”
“I’m not surprised you don’t want it. You’ll have your hands full of Shadow Wolf twins in a few months,” Vigo reminded him.
Samson grinned, looking across at where Valetta was holding Jenny and Wilder’s baby girl, Soleil. “Can’t wait.” He nodded toward Gunnar and Angrboda. “Do you think your work colleagues realize they are dancing alongside a god and goddess?”
“Since they have no idea they have just witnessed the marriage of two werewolves, I’m guessing not,” Amber said. “It’s good to see Kristof here, and enjoying himself.”
After the trauma of Fenrir’s death and the ensuing events, Kristof had needed therapy, but he had been relieved to learn that he was simply suffering from shock. He had decided the brotherhood wasn’t for him, but Vigo would always be grateful to him for the way he had tried to help Amber.
As Vigo looked around, the sense of peace and rightness he felt was overwhelming. For a long t
ime, he had never believed he would be here, taking his vows, with the woman he loved by his side. Now, his life was complete and he couldn’t be happier.
It was early days, but as more and more time passed with no need for the brotherhood, he began to see that Angrboda was right to predict the need for a change. The team wasn’t going away, but the goddess had relaxed her rule about numbers. Seven and only seven? Not any longer. From now on the new leader—or coleaders—got to decide how many would be needed on each mission.
Vigo’s hope was there wouldn’t be too many missions. Before Fenrir’s escape five years ago, the brotherhood hadn’t been together for four hundred years. He could live with a vacation of that length. Fenrir and Chastel were defeated. The team deserved a break. And this. Normality. Laughter. Just taking life as it came.
“Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck away?” Amber whispered.
“If this is about choosing tiles for the guest bathroom . . .” His hand tightened on her waist.
She laughed, seizing his hand and dragging him along with her, out of the function room and toward the elevators. The hotel they had chosen was small and set in rolling pine forests. “We can go for a run later,” Amber whispered. “But right now, I have other plans for you.”
When they reached their room, they were already shedding their clothes. Amber’s vintage lace dress tumbled to the floor and she paused long enough to scoop it up and toss it onto a chair.
When they were both naked, Vigo caught hold of her, exulting in the hunger in her eyes and the way her body trembled at his touch. It was always the same. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. His hands traveled restlessly over her naked flesh.
“You like it when I touch you here . . .” He moved his fingers up between her thighs. She was wet and swollen, ready for his touch.
“I like everything you do to me,” she murmured. “You make me ache.”
Vigo released a shaky breath. “I’ll make you come so hard.”
His cock was a steel rod pressing into her stomach and Amber moaned, writhing against him.
He kissed her long and hard, then lifted her onto the bed. He moved up beside her, straddling her. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and lifted them above her head, pressing them into the mattress. Amber tried to reach for him, but his hold was too tight. I wanted to touch him so badly, but he shook his head. Leaning down, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, tonguing it hard. Amber bucked wildly, pulling against his restraining hands.
