Married. Wait! What?

by Virginia Nelson

  None of us said a word in argument. My skaoi’s scent drifted through the open door when my mother went inside. It would have been intolerable to spend the night surrounded by that scent. As it was, the small tease had the ice inside me rushing over my skin, and it was only through force of will I was able to compel it back.

  Wordlessly, my brothers and I tramped to the gardens behind the house. Mor had turned the soil, but it would be weeks before she put seeds in the ground. Despite the spring weather, there was the promise of a hard frost in the air.

  Raynor lined the fire pit with kindling and pine boughs, and Fenris lit the fire. By tacit agreement, all of us stayed in skin, as if we feared changing forms would make it easier to give in to what we all wanted.

  Staring into the orange flames, I imagined my life as it could have been. For one, I’d have learned my skaoi’s name. At least I had held her in my arms. Raynor and I had embraced her together. Lifting my hands to my face, I could smell her beneath the salt of the ocean and the hint of snow. It would wear off eventually, and all I’d have would be my memory.

  Glancing at Raynor, his face shadowed in darkness, I reached out along the link we’d always had and came up short. Something was in the way of our connection, a barrier that had never been there before. I pushed against it, testing its strength, but it didn’t budge.

  Fear gripped me. Was I to lose my twin as well as the bride chosen for me by the gods? Perhaps it would have been better if I had never learned of her existence. If I’d spent my life with only my brothers for company. My eyes closed with that as my last thought: being alone forever wouldn’t have hurt as much.

  Jolting awake, I burst to my feet. Inside my chest, a web extended, like ice forming across a still pool of water. Watching with wide eyes, it grew to encompass Fenris and my twin before snaking under the door and inside my house. I felt the moment it touched my skaoi, connecting me to her and yanking me forward. My brothers were on their feet as well, the line reeling us in like fish on a hook.

  All our concerns from earlier, none of it mattered compared to the link between me and the woman inside. Fenris was first through the door, and Raynor and I tumbled behind him, pushing and shoving in our haste.

  Mor smiled when she saw us.

  “Betha.” She glanced toward the woman who regarded us with wide blue eyes. On her head sat a crown of snow, each flake unique and perfect. Betha. She was mine. I rolled her name on my tongue, loving the way it sounded. Bay-tha. It was as beautiful as she was.

  And then Mor went on. “Meet your husbands.”

  6

  Betha

  “Wait. What?” No, no, no, no. This did not work for me. I could absolutely, one hundred percent not be married to the sexy triple threat. I’d written my best piece of journalism in my life, and I needed to wave it under my editor’s face while yelling things like, “Ha ha!” and “Suck it!”

  And yet, more than I wanted to give my boss the middle finger, or hear my mother's voice, even if it was only to bemoan my broad shoulders, I wanted to explore the pull to these men I couldn't deny. It tied me to them. Their scent, delicious as it had been the day before, was positively orgasmic now.

  My brain ached, like I'd eaten ice cream too fast, and I rubbed my forehead, scraping my fingers against something icy. What the hell? Pulling gently, it dislodged, and I stared at it in confusion. Was this a crown? A headband? It was beautiful, like someone had connected individual snowflakes. As soon as I touched it, though, it melted, dripping onto the floor. Within seconds, it had disappeared. Regretting its disappearance for only a second, I focused on the bigger issue.

  “How am I married?” I asked aloud, staring down at my hands. No ring. I peeked out the window. Definitely hadn't landed in Las Vegas.

  Last night, after the mountain men had left, I’d introduced myself to the woman in the Tarzan way. “Betha,” I’d said, touching my chest.

  “Freya,” the woman had answered, touching her own. We’d spent yesterday evening in companionable silence. I couldn't understand a word she said, but her tone was friendly, and once she started talking, she didn’t stop.

  I hadn’t recovered from the crash entirely; my body ached, but it didn't stop me from shuffling to the kitchen to watch her cook. Like the rest of their house, their kitchenware was a mishmash of older technologies and ones I used every day. At one point, the lights went out and the woman had held up a finger, and headed outside where the hum and roar of a generator started up. I liked to think I'd helped with dinner, but the most I'd done was pull the bread out of the oven. Even then I'd managed to burn myself on the rack. Helping after helping was pressed on me. I finally fell asleep as full and happy as a house cat.

  The spoiled way I’d gone to sleep hadn’t prepared me for this type of wake-up. The floor rumbled beneath my feet as the men walked toward me—no—stalked toward me—like I was their prey.

  My entire body tensed, and not because I was afraid. What I really wanted to do was lunge off the bed, over the chairs, the rugs, and tackle them. Maybe lick all three like I used to do as a kid with my chicken nuggets so no one took them. These guys were mine.

  Where had that thought come from? They couldn't be mine because I didn't know them. I had no idea if they had interesting personalities, or would get my sense of humor. Maybe they wouldn't like me once they got to know me. I had no idea what made these guys tick.

  The last thought had me squeezing my thighs together, because tick rhymed with dick and I suddenly had the urge to attach to them like a limpet. The room seemed to be getting hotter, and sweat trickled down my temples.

  “It's going to be all right, my skaoi,” Second said, kneeling in front of me with his brother following suit. Reaching toward my face, he cupped my cheek in his hand. Cool relief flooded me.

  The heat at my core chilled, making me shiver. Second's nostrils flared. If he could smell me, like some kind of—hold on.

  “I can understand you now,” I whispered. “I couldn’t yesterday. What is going on?”

  Forgetting all about their hotness and the foreign sensations pulsing through me, I stood, edging past them to have the door at my back. I needed to get out of here, to run away. If I could get some distance between me, and these pillars of handsomeness with their amazing smell, I could figure out what was going on.

  Second's gaze cut to the door. He knew what I was thinking.

  So I bolted.

  Outside, snow had fallen during the night, but it didn't slow me down. I had long legs, good endurance, and when I found my stride, I was fast.

  With my arms pumping, I cut through the snow like it wasn't there. The cold air cleared my head, filled my lungs, and I wanted to shout out with joy. The trees blurred by me, and when the sound of broken limbs and snow reached me, I put on a burst of speed.

  They were chasing me, and I liked it. It was right—what we were supposed to do. Part of the dance. But I was too fast for them. They'd never catch me. I didn't have the bulk they did, they'd never be able to match my—

  Arms gripped me, lifting me off my feet and spinning me around. I imagined what I looked like, feet peddling, arms windmilling. My elbow connected with a hard chest. “Oomph.”

  Whoever held me spun me around. “First,” I whispered.

  “Grim,” he replied, and I frowned.

  “What's grim?” I glanced around. The snow was still falling, but I wouldn't call the landscape grim.

  First blushed and bit his lip. With his arms around me, I could truly get the sense of his height. At nearly six feet myself, I wasn't used to tipping my head back to see someone's face. He cleared his throat. “No. It's my name. Grim.”

  “Betha,” I answered, beginning to feel awkward. His arms were tight around my back. His hard chest pressed against my front. My chest heaved as I panted, trying to catch my breath with each inhalation, and my nipples rubbed on him. The sensation flooded my senses; I needed more of it.

  “Betha.” My name came out on a breath. Movement b
ehind me had him narrowing his eyes and growling. “Fenris. You won't take her.”

  Second moved into my line of sight, away from a copse of trees. He studied Grim and me intently.

  Silently, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his twin. “She is ours now. There is no breaking the bond.”

  “Hold up.” I gripped each of their shoulders, attempting to separate them so I could step forward and address the other brother. The one who'd been dragged out of the house yesterday and had regarded me with dislike and confusion. Having been on the receiving end of looks like that most of my life, I could safely say what was burning in his eyes now was as far away from dislike as one could get. “Grim.”

  His body tensed, but he didn't move. “Please stay behind Raynor and me, Betha.” Was it just me or did his mouth linger over my name. “We'll keep you safe.”

  “I'm not going to hurt her, idiots. She is my skaoi as well as yours,” Fenris snapped.

  “What is a skaoi?” I asked.

  They ignored me. “You denied her. Said you'd send her back. I won't let you,” Second— no—Raynor answered.

  Send me back? To Boston and my job and the story I'd written and Jeb the douchebag editor. The plan had a lot less draw than it did when I was hurtling toward Earth, expecting to be a Betha pancake.

  “I couldn’t send her back. Not now. But she can’t run from us, not here. It’s too dangerous,” the older brother snapped. His eyes were blue, but different than the blue-eyed twins and mother, and when they caught mine, they warmed. When I stepped toward him without thought, both Grim and Raynor stopped me.

  Anxiety filled me. I had to go to him, needed to go to him. The twins had to let me past. Though Fenris remained still, body held in a position of feigned calmness, he was strung tight and ready to snap.

  “Let me,” I whispered, pushing them apart with a gentle nudge.

  “Not too close,” came Raynor’s gravelly reply. He threw one arm up, blocking me from going further.

  “Raynor.” Fenris growled. “Don’t touch her.” His blue eyes darkened as his skin paled, a bluish-white cast creeping from his neck to his jaw and along his cheekbones. Steam poured off of him where it covered his naturally pink skin.

  “Move.” I touched Raynor’s arm, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. Whatever I felt for Fenris, I felt for Raynor and Grim, and the threat in Fenris’s voice charged something inside me. I managed to get around the twins, enough they still shielded me, but I could get between the men if I needed to.

  Growling low and deep in his throat, Fenris glided forward, eyes narrowed. His entire body began to change. Gone were the furs and leathers, the high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes, and what remained in his place was a giant of a man, covered head-to-toe in ice. Each step came with a snap.

  Holy shit.

  The arm beneath my hand cooled, an equally low growl vibrating from Raynor and echoed by Grim. As I stared, their bodies mirrored Fenris’s: blue-white encased in ice.

  Raynor’s knees bent, ready to lunge at Fenris. I dashed between them. “No!” Palms forward, I whipped my gaze from the twins to their older brother. “Stop,” I added, trying to impress upon them I was one-who-shall-be-obeyed.

  A dark eyed gaze, nearly navy, held mine. He tilted his head to the side, pausing for just a moment.

  But sibling rivalry beat listening to me, because he barked a harsh laugh, shook his head, and charged Grim.

  “Stop!” A blast of cold air swept over me. I was the eye of the hurricane and the winds spun around me, but where I stood was still and calm. Fenris pitched forward, as if he could muscle his way past the wind. “You have to stop,” I repeated, and the wind redoubled until he flew back, slamming into a tree, pine needles raining on his head.

  Sucking in a breath, I stared, open-mouthed. Had I—? Did I—? I hadn’t meant to hurt him. The white faded, leaving a slightly dazed, much more human looking man in his place.

  Ignoring Raynor and Grim, I leapt at him, skidding on the snow and falling to my knees. “Oh crap. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you okay? I don’t know what happened.” My hands hovered around his face, touching his blonde hair, smoothing the long locks away from his face. “Don’t move. You could be injured.”

  Behind me, Grim and Raynor chuckled, and I pinned them with a glower. “Help him!” I demanded. “He could have a concussion. I might have broken his head.”

  “Our brother’s head is too hard to ever break,” Raynor husked, passing a hand over his mouth when I glared at him.

  “They’re no help,” I muttered, turning my attention to Fenris. “What can I do? Are there doctors here?”

  The entire time I spoke, he watched me with wide-eyed bewilderment.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” I asked, showing him three fingers. I happened to glance at my hand, which wasn’t its usual pale pink color, but was white, pure white. A white so bright it was blinding. “Oh!” Falling back on my heels, I held up both hands, and then shook them, trying to dislodge the color. Trembling, I pushed my sleeves over my elbows. Dizziness swept over me; the color was everywhere.

  Behind me, Raynor and Grim sat, arms reaching for me. Fenris shook his head, shedding the needles and taking my hands in his. “You’re all right. It will disappear in a moment.”

  “How?” I asked. This really needed some explanation before I lost my mind and started babbling or rocking.

  “You’re our skaoi,” he whispered, eyes warming again. A smile touched his lips.

  Reaching out, unable to stop myself, I touched his lips. Slowly, as if the color transferred from his face to my fingertips, the white deepened to blush and then pink, and I released a breath.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered, looking from one man to the next.

  Holding my hands in his, Fenris stood, helping me along. “Come back, and we’ll explain.”

  I nodded. Yes, an explanation would help, and if it didn’t clear things up, then I could always make a tornado like an X-Man and fly myself back to Boston.

  7

  Raynor

  I’d never seen anything as beautiful as our skaoi. In all my years, I’d never let myself believe I’d be blessed with one, and now I was nearly paralyzed with joy to share her with my twin.

  Ever since my injury, which had the female Jötnars of our tribe refusing to meet my eyes, I’d become accustomed to the idea of living a life of solitude. Or as much solitude as one could have as they grew old with their mother.

  Betha was mine. The gods, instead of being angry with me for allowing an elder’s blade of ice to slip past my guard and across my throat, had given me the ultimate gift. Forever, my brothers and I would protect her. I no longer had to worry about Grim locking eyes with a woman and leaving, his loyalty transferring from brother to bride. The three of us would work in concert together, making sure her every need was met.

  Betha and Fenris walked a little ways ahead of Grim and me. Every so often, our elder brother would tug her hand, warning her of fallen logs or puddles.

  Dropping his hand, she sighed. “I know how to walk, you know. I don’t need you to lay down your jacket across puddles.”

  Snickering, I caught Grim’s eyes. Apparently, my skaoi’s needs did not include being babied.

  “What jacket?” Fenris asked, confused. “I’m not wearing a jacket.”

  A fascinating series of emotions played across Betha’s face: annoyance, confusion, wariness, and finally amusement. Her gaze roamed my brother’s face. Jealousy stabbed me momentarily as Fenris preened under her attention. A second later, I dismissed the uncharitable thought.

  My dour older brother needed to smile as much as any of us. Our father’s death had thrust him into a position no Jötnar should be in at such a young age. He’d taken on the role of protector and provider, and I knew he blamed himself for my injury. Each time I spoke, he winced. My ruined voice was a reminder of the day when he’d been unable to keep me from harm.

  A wicked smile curved Betha’s f
ace, and she spun one finger in the air. “Turn around.”

  Fenris did, glancing over his shoulder while Grim and I watched with interest. The woman had something planned, but like myself, Fenris was at her mercy. Anything she wanted, he’d give her. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leapt, wrapping her legs around his hips and hooking them at his waist. Automatically, he caught her beneath her thighs, her weight negligible.

  “I actually don’t want to get my feet wet. These are my only boots.”

  Fenris chuckled, and my mouth dropped open. When was the last time he’d laughed? Taking one step back, he cleared the brook ahead of them with a stride. Grim and I followed, and I hoped for my own opportunity to ferry her across some of the brooks and rivers she’d vaulted across earlier.

  Of course, earlier she’d been Jötnar. Distances easy to cross in ice were much more difficult in skin.

  “Think he’ll give us a turn?” Grim muttered.

  “My hero.” Betha giggled in Fenris’s ear.

  “Doubtful,” I answered, a grin widening my lips. “Let him have this.”

  We crunched through the late spring snow, still deep in pockets of the forest where the sun couldn’t filter through the tall pine branches. Every so often, Betha would turn, as if making sure we were following. The trees stopped, and we reached the edge of the clearing. Tendrils of smoke curled from the chimney. Mor had made a fire, probably in anticipation of our return and the chill our skaoi would feel. Though we approached silently, the door to the cabin opened, and our mother walked toward us.

  Fenris let Betha’s legs go, hands skimming her hips as she landed on her feet. Patting his back, she made her way to Mor, who had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “Husbands,” Betha began, jutting out one hip and glaring at Mor.

  “Fated,” Mor clarified.

  With a glance over her shoulder, Betha raised an eyebrow. “I could use an explanation.”