“Hey,” she whispered and ran her finger lazily along his jaw. “Did you catch all that?”
“I did,” he murmured as he captured her hand and kissed her palm. “So somehow Eluf had help from Bjark’s soul to create your doppelgänger.”
“It certainly seems that way,” she said. “Remember, Eydis had said Bjark might be able to help. Do you think that’s what she meant?”
“Perhaps.” He frowned. “What Eluf chanted and requested of Bjark sounded an awful lot like he would have been caught, just like Eydis said. No matter if it was voluntary it sounds like the same sort of outcome.”
“It does,” she agreed as she sat up and kept contemplating. “If that’s the case, what ultimately frees him? Because Eydis clearly said, ‘He is caught now...until he is freed.’” Her eyes met his. “We assumed, or at least I did, that it must have to do with Naðr Véurr waking from his unnatural slumber. But what if it’s this? What if Bjark’s still somehow tethered to Maeva...more so, me?”
“It’s always a possibility,” he conceded as he fingered her hair. “And something I’m sure we’ll learn soon enough.”
“Maeva felt sadness but pride when Eluf did that,” Erica murmured and shook her head. “What I can’t help but wonder is how she was there to begin with in dragon form and why she wasn’t rip-roaring mad that Eluf was asking that of her grandfather’s spirit. Because I’d be pretty pissed. Bjark should be able to pass on not stay stuck in this reality so his granddaughter could be with the man she loved. A love, might I remind you, that ultimately led to his death.”
“What you’re forgetting,” he sat up and met her eyes, “was that Bjark’s granddaughter had been taken by a monster. If his spirit had any inkling of what she was suffering at Bard’s hands, do you think he would have hesitated to do what he could to save her from that torture?” He frowned. “I know nothing about being a grandfather but know enough that I wouldn’t hesitate to give my very soul to keep our grandchild out of Bard’s hands.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded. “But how did Bjark know Maeva’s fate? He was already dead. Which means Eluf must have summoned him and told him. And what was he going to say at that point?”
“That he was grateful Eluf had told him, I’d think,” Kodran countered. “Grateful he hadn’t gone on to Valhalla without knowing the peril his grandchild was in.”
Erica eyed him for a long moment before she murmured, “Maybe you’re right.” She sighed. “I just wish Bjark had been kept out of it.”
“I know.” He began rubbing her shoulders. “But I would not get too upset until we have all the facts. Until we know if there wasn’t a more positive outcome. Outside of the obvious, that is.”
She nodded but said nothing as she eased into his touch. It didn’t take long for the scent of her desire to hit his nostrils.
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” she whispered before she straddled him and braced her hands on his shoulders. “Thanks for what you did for me earlier, Kodran.” Emotion churned in her eyes. “I had no idea it could be like that.”
He rested his hands on her hips. “It can be that and so much more, Erica.”
“More?” She quirked the corner of her mouth before she sank onto his cock, shuddered and whispered, “Not sure I could take much more.”
He tended to agree because she had felt so damn good. But then again, the feel of her now might just top that. He grabbed her backside and guided her as she moved faster and faster, just like she had when they were fully clothed before.
This time, he was the one who couldn’t help but lie back. He gripped her hips and ground his jaw as her eyes fluttered back and she began trembling. It wasn’t long before they exploded at the same moment and not just them but their inner dragons roared in pleasure.
He wrapped his arms around her and relished the feel of her in his arms when she sprawled across his chest. Suddenly, he got the strangest sensation that if he let her go, he might never get her back.
That she wouldn’t want him.
“Kodran,” she murmured, and her head shot up. “I feel something strange...”
His eyes went to the blade. It was glowing red, and the water was starting to brighten.
“Loki’s cock,” he muttered before he murmured a chant that put the blade in his hand, and had them clothed mere seconds before white swallowed everything. The next thing he knew, they were lying in the grass close to the tree Eluf and Maeva had met beneath.
Kodran and Erica stood as more history unfolded in front of them.
Maeva appeared sitting beneath the tree. She whittled a piece of wood and smiled when Eluf appeared. Older, probably in his early forties now, he returned her smile as she raced into his arms.
“You act as though you haven’t seen me in years,” Eluf murmured, inhaling the scent of her hair.
“Because it feels that way sometimes.” Maeva kissed him before her eyes went to his. “You spend more time with our secret society than I do.”
“Yes,” Eluf said as he took her hand and they leaned against the tree. “But it is only because we still work toward peace. We still think it’s possible.”
“Despite all that has happened.” Maeva shook her head. “I do not see hope for peace anymore. Let us spend every waking minute together...” Pain lit her eyes. “Before it is too late.”
“It will not be too late if I can find a way...” Eluf murmured as his eyes stayed with hers. “There was a time when you would have fought as well.”
“But that day has come and gone, and well you know it.” Anger flared in Maeva’s eyes, but she reined it in. “Now we must focus on the time we have left together.”
“Time,” he whispered. “Is limited.” His eyes dropped to the wood in her hands. “You have been busy.”
“I have.” She smiled. “Entertaining myself by creating a story.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I am carving bits of wood from the Yggdrasill on the shore and leaving them here beneath this tree,” she explained. “Here where it all began for us.”
When Eluf cocked his head in question, she continued. “It is a call to arms of a sort from our future incarnates if everything does not go well here.” A small smile ghosted her face. “I know I do not have the power to see it through, but perhaps the trees do.” Her eyes met his. “Perhaps through the power of love that started right here.”
A soft smile came to his lips. “Tell me about the piece in your hand.”
“Ah, this.” She held it up. “Before all else must come a tree to symbolize both the one taken from the original Yggdrasill and the one we stand beneath. This will be the Yggdrasill that starts our story. It rises above all and begins something that will bring everyone we care about back together if we are ever lost to this war.”
“It is very well done, Maeva,” he murmured as he eyed it. “Now tell me the rest of your story.”
“No, not yet. Maybe someday,” she said softly as she cupped his cheeks, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
Moments later they faded away.
Erica’s eyes met Kodran’s, and she frowned. “What do you make of that?”
He shook his head as Maeva reappeared beneath the tree, again carving a piece of wood. And again, she smiled with joy when she spied Eluf and ran into his arms. A starburst of fine lines etched the corner of his eyes now, and gray dusted his temples.
“Ah, you have created another carving.” Eluf smiled as he eyed her work. “It is a good depiction of the Gungnir blade.”
“Thank you.” Maeva kept smiling. “It is the part of our tale that keeps us strong and gives us protection.” Her eyes narrowed. “But it is also part of our vengeance because without what it symbolizes, I would not be kept safe from Bard’s wrath. I would not be able to wish vengeance upon him.”
“She’s starting to lose it, Kodran,” Erica whispered.
“I don’t think—”
“She is,” Erica interrupted, sadness in her eyes. “She’s not coping
well with losing Eluf like this and is reverting into some sort of fairytale.” Her eyes met his. “And he knows it.”
Kodran slipped his hand into hers, not sure what to say.
Moments later, Maeva vanished then reappeared, again whittling away. And just like before, Eluf appeared. This time fine lines etched his forehead, around his mouth and there was far more white in his hair. Maeva threw her arms around him as always, the happiness in her eyes not faded in the least.
Though they clearly spent ample time with each other in between, these moments had become especially important to them.
“Show me the next carving in your tale.” Eluf gestured to what was in her hand and frowned. “That does not look promising.”
“But it is.” She held up a carving of a Nidstang. A horse’s head on a pole that was meant to curse. “It is the part of our tale that tricks Bard. That ultimately curses him.” Her brows perked. “But then it is also the part of our story where our loved ones start to remember us. Where they start to recognize their souls.”
Both Erica and Kodran narrowed their eyes at this point.
Not only was Maeva creating carvings that replicated the journeys their kin had followed, but she was stressing the very titles from Cybil’s Dragons of Winter Harbor collection.
Seconds later Maeva vanished and reappeared again working on her wood. When Eluf arrived, more lines had formed on his face, and his hair was completely white. Yet still, she ran into his arms, happy as ever.
“Show me what you have created now,” Eluf said softly, his eyes still sharp as he looked at her fondly. “Because it appears to be a small boat with a Laben-rune carved into its sail.”
“That is precisely what it is,” she granted. “A boat meant to sail right into Helheim and find the support of Hel herself.” A devious grin crept onto her face. “This part of our tale truly brings kin back together and embraces a new kind of fury against the enemy.”
“Okay,” Erica murmured. “Now this is really starting to get weird.”
He couldn’t agree more.
Again Maeva faded and reappeared, still whittling. Sadly, when Eluf appeared as well, he was growing old indeed. Yet she flung her arms around him and looked at him as lovingly as she had the first day they were introduced.
“What are you working on now, my love?” He met her smile. “And will you, at last, tell me your tale?”
“I will,” she murmured as she held up her last carving. It was of a man and woman embracing beneath an ash tree. “What do you think?”
Eluf studied it. “I like it very much.”
“But you do not love it.”
He seemed careful with his words. “I do not understand it.”
“Yes,” she frowned, “you do.”
Their eyes held for a moment before she said, “I have been telling you for years that I do not want to hide anymore. That I want to be with you out in the open.” She shook her head. “This carving symbolizes your pride, Eluf. You are willing to love me in secret but not for all to see because I am dragon.”
Kodran felt like the ground dropped out from beneath him. Erica was right. Maeva was losing her mind. Not just her human half but her dragon. Neither could handle the slow, painful departure between her and Eluf.
There was no mistaking the quickly masked pain in Eluf’s eyes as he kept a look of understanding on his face. “You have a true talent with the wood.” He took her hands. “Now please, at last, tell me your tale.”
“Have you not figured it out already then?” She cocked her head. “It is a tale born of a prophet who foresees the rise of a Viking and his kin. More than that, the stories that followed. One of vengeance, soul, fury, and pride. One that will help us reunite.”
Chapter Thirteen
ERICA HAD NO idea what to make of everything Maeva had said and done as she and Eluf faded away yet again. What was she to make of her carvings and the strange, vague tale she told Eluf. Yes, they certainly had something to do with Cybil’s Dragons of Winter Harbor collection and everything they had gone through but how was it all related? Because if she knew nothing else, Maeva was truly starting to lose it.
With a heavy sigh, she walked around the tree when Maeva and Eluf didn’t reappear again. “They’re part of the trunk now,” she whispered as she shook her head, crouched and ran her fingers over a depiction of the Yggdrasill. “Eluf must have merged her carvings with it somehow.”
“Telling in its own way, yes?” Kodran said as he crouched beside her. “Besides Shannon, did your sisters not all see carvings in the tree outside the chalet in Winter Harbor?”
“They did,” she said softly. “Cybil saw the Yggdrasill. Samantha, the Gungnir blade, Lauren the Nidstang close by.” Her eyes met his. “And I saw us.”
He frowned. “Us?”
She moved around the trunk a little and pointed at a man and woman. “I saw us in the tree back home and knew it was my ticket back in time.” She met his eyes again. “I also knew in combination with this blade, it would take me anywhere I wanted to go and not necessarily to you.”
“How did you know that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Because despite how hard you tried not to, it took you directly back to me,” he reminded with a knowing grin.
“You mean Grant Hamilton took you to me,” she countered.
“Either way.” He stood and pulled her into his arms. “You made it back to me.”
Her heart flipped a few times when his lips brushed hers. He had done things to her in that ash bed. No, done things for her, that she was still trying to come to grips with. His sole focus had been on giving her things she had been denied. Love. Tenderness. A sense of hope she had no idea she had given up on with men until he spent so much time making her feel good. No, big time understatement. More like worshipped and adored.
Then there was that other thing he had done for her.
The magic he had used to slowly but surely burn away the unseen wounds Hallstein had left behind. Not only were his actions thoughtful but done so well, it all felt sensual. She had no sensation of facing old demons, or of the pain she had felt afterwards, just relief. Even her mind felt lighter now. She knew the enemy had hurt her, but memories of the aftermath, how broken she had felt, were fading quickly. Pretty soon those memories would be gone, and Hallstein’s hold over her—a hold she had no idea existed until that ash bed—would be gone too.
Which made her wonder.
If she was strong to begin with how much stronger would she be now thanks to what Kodran had done for her? She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. If she were to guess, what he did was going to free her in more ways than one. She already felt stronger, her mind clearer.
“So many times we held each other beneath this tree,” he murmured. “But I swear it never felt as good as it does now.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Erica was about to say more when the trunk began to glow, then the leaves and yet again, Maeva appeared. This time she was crouched on the ground against the tree shaking.
“What is it?” Eluf appeared, lowered slowly to one knee in front of her and touched her shoulder. He was even older this time. Elderly. “Tell me, Maeva. What is it?”
“It does not matter anymore,” she whispered. “You and your pride.”
It seemed Maeva had not let go of her crazed notion that Eluf only loved her in secret because he was too prideful to admit he desired a dragon. She still lived in a fantasy world. Out of touch with everything that had actually happened.
“Just tell me, my love.” He stroked her hair. “Tell me what happened to you.”
When she clutched her stomach and sobbed, Eluf shook his head and whispered, “No.”
“Yes,” she choked out and met his eyes. “I finally did what I have long said I would do.” She shook her head. “We should not have to live in hiding...so I finally told Bard about us.”
Oh, shit. Maeva had made true on h
er demented promise. One that bespoke that her mind really had snapped. After all, she, the good side of Maeva, had essentially told the enemy exactly what Eluf had done.
That he had created a doppelgänger.
“He was furious that I love you so much,” she whimpered as she continued to clutch her stomach. “So he...hurt me.”
Translation. Bard had her...and she was pregnant.
Erica and Kodran leapt back, their eyes wide when fresh fury lit Eluf’s face, and his actions became violent. Forget his advanced age, nothing but rage fueled his actions as he slammed his fist against the tree and it burst into flames. A second later, the tree vanished, and he pulled her into his arms. But now he held something.
A twisted cane.
The very same one that Kjar once created from the embers of another ash tree. There was no way to know how that happened but when it came to demi-gods, anything was possible. Not only that, but this was Eluf they were talking about, and something told her that he always found a way around things.
Much like Adlin MacLomain had once upon a time.
Eluf white-knuckled the cane still burning bright red, rested his cheek besides Maeva’s and whispered, “I promise you all will be avenged for what Bard has done to you. I will see it no other way.”
Maeva rested her head against his. “How my love? Because I know now how foolish I was to have spoken. I never should have said—”
Eluf put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Never apologize for speaking your heart.” He stood then pulled her up. “I will come up with a plan. I will figure this out.”
“Figure this out?” She shook her head, pain in her eyes. “There is no figuring this out. Once Bard realizes I am pregnant, all of this will be over. And what about poor Einar?” She started trembling. “Everyone thinks I am with him. Now what?”
“I will take care of things,” Eluf assured. “I will keep you safe.”
Erica’s eyes widened as she heard Eluf’s thoughts through Kodran. Eluf had been protecting Maeva’s mind for a while now. He was still powerful enough that with Einar’s help, he had deceived many. As it was, Maeva’s sister and her Sigdir mate were thoroughly convinced Maeva had escaped the enemy’s clutches years ago. When she did, she asked to live a quiet life. One without strife. And Einar had helped with that. He had explained her desires to his people, and they understood given what she had suffered.
Pride of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin, #5) Page 16
