Fen slid off his body, dislodging Jeff’s cock from its happy home. He whimpered at the loss of heat. Fen chuckled and touched Jeff’s chest. “Look, elskede.”
Jeff stared at the rapidly healing wounds on his body. “Holy fuck.”
“Exactly.” Fen grinned, his expression one of lazy satisfaction. Apparently he thought his ass really was sacred.
Jeff rolled his eyes but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too fascinated by the way his body was once more becoming his own. By the time the process was done he had faint, pinkish scars left where the terrible wounds had once been.
“Daddy likey.”
Fen rolled over and licked one of the scars. Jeff hissed in pleasure—it seemed the newly formed scars were a hot spot for him. Jeff took a moment to stare down at his body. From the look on his face he was disturbed by what he saw.
“It looks like I’ve been autopsied.” He had a Y incision in his chest and abdomen.
His arms each had a scar running from the tip of his middle finger all the way to his shoulders. He had a matching set on each leg. Along one cheek a jagged scar had formed. Grimm had a lot to answer for. “Fen?”
Fen gathered his mate close and tried to reassure the smaller man. “I’m here, elskede.”
“Will the scars go away?” Jeff huddled into his warmth. Jeff’s scent was changing, becoming spice mixed with sweet. Jeff frowned and sniffed Fen’s chest. “And why do you smell like cinnamon?”
Fen laughed silently. “Because you do.”
Jeff lifted his head. Whatever he saw on Fen’s face had an answering smile lifting his lips. “Excuse me?”
Fen pulled him closer, entangling their legs. “Our scents are mingling. I smell sweeter because you do. You’ll smell spicier, like me.” Fen sniffed Jeff’s neck and moaned. “Everyone will know we’ve mated.”
“We’ll smell like us instead of you and me.” Jeff seemed thoroughly pleased by that thought if the twitching of his cock was any indication. The man had a remarkable recovery time Fen had every intention of exploring.
“Yes.” Fen licked the scar on Jeff’s cheek. “You taste good.”
Jeff moaned and his cock hardened further against his mate’s hip. “Your turn.” Jeff grabbed Fen’s cock, stroking it from root to tip, over and over again. “I want this in me, making me scream.”
Fen shuddered with bliss. His English failed him as Jeff bent down and took Fen’s cock in his mouth. The long, slow glide of his mate’s tongue over his shaft made him hum with pleasure. He grabbed the wild red curls and held on for dear life while Jeff proved to him that Fen might be the alpha, but Jeff ruled the bed.
After a few long, pleasure-hazed moments Fen tugged on Jeff’s hair. “Kom opp her. ” His English had failed him, the Norwegian word slipping past his lips easily.
Jeff obeyed, lifting his lips off Fen’s cock, though his tongue continued to tease the slit.
“Naughty little wolf,” Fen crooned. His mate shot him a cheeky grin right before he sucked the head of Fen’s cock back into his mouth. Those soft red curls Jeff hated so much caressed his shaft, and Fen swore he’d never allow the man to cut them off. If he had his way Jeff’s hair would cover his ass when he walked, allowing teasing little glimpses of the perfection only Fen was allowed to touch.
Fen took his mate’s arms and dragged him up his body. “Headboard.”
Jeff’s eyebrows lifted. Fen twisted beneath him and moved until he knelt at Jeff’s back. He placed Jeff against the headboard so that his cock nudged the wood, his back upright, his head resting against Fen’s shoulder. God, the feel of his mate’s hair against his chest was intoxicating. It was growing at a rapid rate, already halfway down Jeff’s back. He grabbed the lube and traced the puckered rosette of Jeff’s ass, getting it nice and slick before sliding a finger inside.
Jeff’s hands clenched on the headboard. “More, Fen. Go ahead. Give me more.”
“Are you sure, elskede?” Not for the world would he cause Jeff any more pain.
Jeff nodded and arched his back, forcing Fen’s finger farther inside him.
“Give it to me.”
Fen bit down on his mate’s shoulder and sucked up a mark before giving his mate what he’d asked for. He thrust three fingers inside the man, relieved to hear the moans erupting from Jeff’s mouth. “Are you ready?”
Jeff nodded and panted. “Oh fuck yeah.”
Fen reached around and stroked Jeff’s cock, smiling at the precome that slipped over his fingers. “I think you are.”
Jeff growled, the sound low and menacing, much better than the whimpy little sound he’d made before. This was the true sound of a mate in heat, demanding his lover’s cock.
Fen obliged him, sliding into Jeff’s body in one hard thrust. Jeff threw his head back and gasped. “Still want it hard, love?”
Jeff reached behind him and pinched Fen’s hip. “If you don’t fuck me I will kill you.” He looked up at Fen with a wicked smile. “Or worse. Buy one of those glittery butt plugs for your father’s birthday and make the tag out from you, with love.”
Fen barely bit back a laugh. “You are evil.”
“I am horny. Make with the fucking.”
“As you wish.” Fen grabbed hold of Jeff’s hips and began a punishing rhythm that had the man gasping for breath and holding on for dear life.
Jeff twisted and draped his arm behind Fen’s neck. Fen kissed his mate as he fucked him. Jeff moaned into his mouth, his ass clenching around Fen’s cock.
Fen wrapped his fist around Jeff’s cock and stroked until Jeff began to go off in his hand. His come splattered the headboard. Only then did Fen allow himself his own pleasure, muffling his howl of completion against Jeff’s skin.
Jeff leaned his head against the headboard and chuckled wearily. “There is no way I’m cleaning that up.”
Fen snorted and pulled out of Jeff. He tugged and pushed until he had Jeff nestled in his arms, his head pillowed on Fen’s chest. Fen wrapped Jeff’s curls around his fingers and sighed. He couldn’t ever remember being more content.
A knock on the door interrupted Fen’s quiet joy. “It’s me, Kir. I want to make sure Jeff’s healed up.”
Fen was pleased with the sleepy, satisfied smile on his mate’s face. The man was worn out, and Fen couldn’t be happier. “We’ll be out shortly.” But just in case, Fen covered them with the blankets.
“Hmph.” Fen could hear the humor in Kir’s voice. The blond god walked into the room, uncaring about their nudity, and studied Jeff intently. A huge smile graced his lips as he took in Jeff’s faded scars. “I’m glad to see it worked.”
“He’ll have the scars, but these, besides my mark, are the only ones he will ever bear.” A fact that just about killed Fenris. The knowledge that his mate would bear the marks of his torture at Odin’s hand for the rest of eternity nearly ruined the happy mood he’d been in just moments before.
The only scar Jeff should have was Fen’s mating mark.
“Shh.” Jeff’s hand patted Fen’s hip. “Snarly.” He snuggled deeper into the covers like a young pup, already mostly asleep.
Jordan poked her head through the bedroom door. “Jeff. Vincente’s on the phone. He wants to come over for pasta.”
Jeff smacked his lips and smiled. “Yum.”
“Oh yeah. He’s out. Good luck waking him back up.” She grinned and left the room, followed by a smiling Kir.
Fen pulled himself from beneath the covers, careful not to wake Jeff. The man needed his sleep, and Fen would see to it that he got it. Jeff barely stirred.
He dressed quickly and headed to the living room. All three Tate-Saeter’s were there, talking quietly about Jeff’s healed injuries.
Logan smirked and waggled his brows. “Wore him out, did we?”
Fen noted how careful his father was to keep his voice low and was grateful for it. “Yes.”
There was no way his father could help but notice the pure contentment in his response. Nothing could take Jeff fro
m him now. Logan nodded and headed for the front door. “Be careful. I strengthened the wards while you two were consummating your marriage, but that doesn’t mean Grimm can’t find a hole in them somewhere.”
“Have Magnus and Morgan returned?” The brothers would be horrified to find out what had happened to their family during their absence.
“Not yet. We’re hoping they get here soon, before Jeanne goes ballistic and hunts Grimm down with a bowie knife and a bandana.”
Fen was not going to ask. He was not. “A bandana?” Shit. He’d asked.
Logan grinned. “Ask your mate about Sylvester Stallone some time. Rambo is must-see TV for any red-blooded American male.”
“What do we do about the Old Man?” Fen stared into his father’s eyes. “He scarred my mate.”
Logan blew out a breath, all humor leaving his face to be replaced by grim determination. “We find him and kill his ass.”
Fen frowned, confused. “How will that hurt him? Has his ass done anything wrong?”
Logan’s expression blanked just before he burst into laughter worthy of Kir.
He barely breathed as he doubled over.
“What the hell?” Jordan stared at Logan as if he’d grown a second head.
“What did you do to him?”
“I asked him why we wanted to kill the Old Man’s ass. Surely the beast has no say in what Odin does.” It was probably as much of an innocent as Sleipnir, Fen’s half brother and Odin’s eight-legged steed. The last time he’d seen his brother the beast had cast him one sorrowful glance before taking Odin away into the night sky.
He had no idea how long ago that had been, nor did he want to. He only knew he’d recognized that look. For all his brother seemed to be free, he was just as imprisoned as Fenris.
Her lips twitched. “Oh. American Idioms 101. When we say we want to kill someone’s ass, we mean we want to kill them.”
He shook his head. “Why didn’t he say so?”
“He did, you just didn’t understand it.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ll get it eventually. Jeff will help.”
He stared toward the bedroom door and smiled. “Yes. I know he will.”
Jeff, delicate and fragile looking, snored so loudly the door rattled. Fen grinned. Next to him, Jordan bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Gods, his mate made him happy.
Chapter Nine
“So.” Jeanne Grimm had papers strewn all over his dining room table, and he couldn’t be more pleased. Jeff stared down at the charts and diagrams she’d whipped up while he’d been sleeping and grinned. She pointed to a spot on her timeline. “Heimdall blows his horn.” She moved to the next item. “Odin speaks to a decapitated head.” Her finger moved along, ticking off the things listed in the prophecy. “Yggdrasil, the World Tree, trembles.”
“Earthquake?” Jordan popped yet another piece of pizza in her mouth. For a woman who professed to hate olives she was eating a metric ton of them recently. And was that pineapple on her pizza as well?
“Good thinking.” Jeanne nodded approvingly. “Some Ettin is loosed. Any ideas?”
No one said anything. Then again, the majority of those in the know were currently in Kir and Logan’s condo holding their own war council. The Grimm family had been relegated to Jeff’s place, not that he was complaining.
He bet they came up with stuff much sooner than the Norse gods did.
Sometimes all it took was a fresh perspective on an old problem, and who better to help them with that than Jeanne Grimm? The woman would make a five-star general look like a scatterbrained dork.
“Note to self, look that up later.” Jeanne scribbled something down on a Post-It note and attached it to her timeline. “Okay. Next, the Aesir are at council.”
She tapped her pen on the table. “Scratch that one off, ’cause I’m pretty sure it’s happened more than once and will happen again.”
“During an earthquake, while the Old Man talks to a decapitated head?”
Jordan sighed in bliss as another bite of olive and pineapple pizza disappeared into her face.
“How can you eat that?” Jeff shuddered in revulsion. “There’s no meat on it.”
Everyone stopped and stared at him. He shrugged. “What?”
Jeanne turned her attention back to the papers on the table. “Dwarves groan.” She grimaced. “I’m pretty sure they do that every time they see Leprechaun Returns: 3D.”
Jordan choked on an olive. Jamie helped by smacking her back so hard she fell off the sofa.
Jeanne shook her head. “Children. Settle down.” Jordan got back on the sofa, but not before giving Jamie a death glare. “Hrymyr sails from the east during a flood.”
Again, blank stares met her questioning look. “No clue, Mom.” Jeff got up and snagged his own piece of extra pepperoni. “Add another Post-It.”
She did. “The monstrous Beast twists in mighty wrath. Jörmungandr? Or someone else?”
Jordan frowned down at her pizza. “Dad said Jör wasn’t the serpent.”
Jeff stared at his sister. “He did? Then who was the serpent?”
She stared right back. “Odin?”
Jeanne sighed and tapped her pen again. “Okay. So part of this could refer to
Jörmungandr, part of it could not. The Snake beats the waves sounds like him.”
“Yeah, it does, since he was banished to the sea.” Jeff took his seat next to Jamie and watched their mother pace.
“The Eagle is screaming.”
“That’s because they haven’t won the Super Bowl in forever.” Jamie flinched when Jordan popped her one on the back of the head.
“The gold-neb tears corpses, Naglfar is loosed.” Jeanne rubbed her eyes wearily.
“Screw this. Bring me a laptop.”
Jeff hopped up to do his mother’s bidding. He soon had her set up at the table, some of the papers set aside carefully so as not to disturb their order.
“Okay. If I remember, there’s more than one translation of the Poetic Edda.
Your friends have only given us one. Let’s see what else is out there.” Jeanne grinned and began to type. Soon she had another version up on the screen. “Loud blows Heimdall, the horn is aloft. In fear quake all who on Hel-roads are.”
“Not much difference that I can see,” Jeff muttered. He leaned down to stare at the screen over his mother’s shoulder. “Look there. This seems to say the Eagle and Naglfar are the same— and the tawny eagle gnaws corpses screaming; Naglfar is loose.”
“So we need to find out who Naglfar is.” Jeanne made another note. “Right.
Next.” She scrolled a bit. “There.”
“O’er the sea from the north there sails a ship
With the people of Hel, at the helm stands Loki;
After the wolf do wild men follow,
And with them the brother of Byleist goes.”
“Another name to add to our list. Who’s Byleist and his brother? They’re in both translations.” Jeanne’s pen was tapping again. It was quickly driving Jeff nuts. His mother typed in a quick Wiki search. “Oh. Byleist is Loki’s brother.”
Jordan gasped. “Logan has a brother?”
Jeff groaned. “You mean there are two of them?”
Jeanne rolled her eyes and continued.
“Surt fares from the south with the scourge of branches,
The sun of the battle-gods shone from his sword;
The crags are sundered, the giant-women sink,
The dead throng Hel-way, and heaven is cloven.”
“That sounds lovely.” Jordan grimaced. “Zombies throng Center City.
Corporations notice no differences in productivity. Film at eleven.”
“Now comes to Hlin yet another hurt,
When Othin fares to fight with the wolf,
And Beli’s fair slayer seeks out Surt,
For there must fall the joy of Frigg.”
“The Joy of Frigg? Does that frigid bitch believe in joy?” Jeanne shook her head. “So Odin
falls to the wolf?”
“That seems to be pretty consistent.” Jordan pointed. “But take a look:
“Then comes Sigfather’s mighty son,
Vithar, to fight with the foaming wolf;
In the giant’s son does he thrust his sword
Full to the heart: his father is avenged.”
“Meaning Fenris kills Odin, but dies by Uncle Val’s hand.” Jamie shook her head. “We’re all hoping that one’s wrong.”
Hell, Jeff was more than hoping. He was planning. After all, the Eddas didn’t say which wolf would kill Odin, did they? None of the translations specifically mentioned Fenris. Now that there was more than one giant wolf carrying Loki’s blood, thanks to his mating with Fen, there was a possibility Jeff could carry out the deed.
If anyone died while killing Odin it was going to be him. Fen had suffered enough at his grandfather’s hands, thank you.
“Hither there comes the son of Hlothyn,
The bright snake gapes to heaven above;
Against the serpent goes Othin’s son.”
Jeanne gasped. “Is this…?”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah. Everyone thought the serpent was Jörmungandr.”
“But serpent has more than one meaning, doesn’t it?” Jamie frowned thoughtfully. “Sometimes it means betrayer.”
“If anyone has betrayed this family it’s the Old Man.” Jeff ran his hand through his hair and frowned at the feel of it. “What the hell?”
“You didn’t know?” Jordan ran her hand down his back. It met his hair the entire way down until she was almost at his ass. “Love the rock glam look on you, bro.”
“Shit.” No, he hadn’t noticed his waist-length hair. How the hell had he missed that?
“Language, Jeff.”
“Sorry.”
Jeanne read the next stanza.
“In anger smites the warder of earth,
Forth from their homes must all men flee;
Nine paces fares the son of Fjorgyn,
And, slain by the serpent, fearless he sinks.”
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