The Mythean Arcana Box Set

by Linsey Hall

  Yet without Ian, the victory was hollow. She enjoyed the work, but the evenings were spent with food and her cat. Both of which were good, but didn’t quite cut it.

  Fed up with her own moping, Fiona pushed away from the boat’s rail and went up to the bow to grab the bow line and help Claire and the captain bring the boat into the dock.

  They motored past dozens of small boats that sat cheek by jowl in their slips, all rolling on the light wake of the barge, their metal dangling bits clanking musically against masts and hulls.

  It really was beautiful, she thought. Fat lot of good it did her. The captain pulled the boat into the slip and she and Claire tied off.

  “I’ll take care of the dive kit,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” Claire asked.

  “No problem. I know you’ve got a date.” Claire had been over the moon about the fact that her boyfriend was visiting from Scotland.

  “Thanks! I’ll make it up to you!” Claire grabbed her day bag and ran up the dock.

  After checking the lines and the engine, the captain trundled after her, his lunch sack flopping against his thigh with every step. He’d leave her to clean up her dive gear, since his only concern was the boat.

  Fiona sighed and turned back to the boat. She was hauling the air tanks off the deck when she caught sight of a tall figure striding down the dock, passing behind the occasional mast or pilothouse, which cut him off from her view.

  They’d been coming out here every day for a week and had yet to see the weekenders on their boats. It was Friday and only about two in the afternoon, so maybe he was getting the day started early. Just another boater.

  But she squinted harder, unsure of why he caught her eye. She could barely make out his face or his—

  Her heart dropped her feet.

  Ian.

  It was Ian striding down the dock, his steps long and sure on the bobbing surface. But how? He should be locked up a thousand miles away back in Edinburgh.

  She stared dumbly. Ian was only five meters away now, so close she could see the green of his eyes. A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth and still she stared, blindsided and stupid.

  Soon, Ian was standing in front of her, something she’d dreamed about in her wildest imagination yet never expected in a thousand years.

  “Hello.” He held out a hand for the heavy tank in her arms.

  “Hi.” She dumbly handed it to him.

  He set it down on its side.

  “Oh my gods, you’re here!” It finally hit her and she leapt off the boat, stumbling onto the dock like a moron but past caring.

  She threw her arms around him, laughing when he swept her up and squeezed her to him.

  “How?” she asked against his shoulder. “How are you here?”

  “Long story.”

  “Gods, you have to tell me all of it. I just canna believe it. Are you out? For good?” She leaned back and looked at his face, thinner than when she’d last seen it, but so handsome her heart felt like it would burst.

  “I am.”

  “Good.” She kissed him, hard and fast, joy in every movement.

  ~~~

  “Gods, I’ve missed you,” Ian muttered against Fiona's lips.

  “Likewise.” She pulled him onto the boat and into the pilothouse. Thank gods the captain had left. “I want to hear about how you got out, but no' yet.”

  She tore at his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his, hot and warm and so perfect.

  Within seconds, he had her pants around her ankles and she kicked them off. She reached out greedily for his cock, and a fierce wave of satisfaction roared through him when he felt her hand.

  “Wait.” His voice was rough as he reached between her legs. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

  An animal noise escaped her when his fingers parted her sex, slipping between the slick folds to stroke. Soon she was wet and trembling, her need and joy clear.

  “Now,” she gasped.

  “Aye.” He picked her up and pressed her against the wall of the pilothouse, then brought her down upon his cock. He thrust inside of her, groaning at the feeling of her wet heat enveloping him.

  She arched against him, picking up a rhythm that matched his own.

  Soon they were straining against one another, desperate to chase away the memory of their separation. She was lean and strong, her body an intoxicant.

  Gods, he was going to come too soon.

  He grabbed the rail on the ceiling, focusing on the bite of the wood into his palm instead of on the wet heat of her pussy. It didn’t work.

  Ah, gods, he was going to lose it. With a groan, he pulled free and slid down her body. He propped her against the wall and set his mouth to her. Her cry of frustration was replaced with one of pleasure.

  She was gloriously wet and slick, and when he thrust his tongue inside of her, he tasted the bite of his own pre-cum. A beastly possessiveness in him made him growl against her, the animal he’d professed to have contained.

  Desperate to get her off before he lost it all over the floor, he moved his mouth to her clitoris and pushed two fingers inside of her. The feel of her heat closing over him drew a groan from him and he stroked her with his tongue.

  Within seconds, her whole body stiffened and her hips pushed against his face, her pussy spasming around his fingers.

  Fuck.

  He withdrew from her and rose up quickly, thrusting inside of her so that he could feel the remnants of her orgasm. She cried out and clutched his shoulders as he lifted her, her face flushed and beautiful.

  His hips lost any semblance of rhythm or grace as a second orgasm tore through her and lit up his own. He heaved over her, lost. A guttural cry escaped his lips as his back arched and the orgasm pounded up through his shaft and broke him apart.

  When it was done, he saw nothing but white light and collapsed against her, held up by sheer luck. Dimly, he recognized that she was still shuddering from her orgasm, perhaps in the grips of another. But as much as he wanted to reach a hand down to her clitoris to help her along, he hadn’t an ounce of strength in his body.

  A minute later, once she’d stilled and he’d caught at least a bit of his breath, he opened his eyes to see her looking at him, a satisfied smile on her face.

  “Apparently we just had to get that out of our system,” she said.

  He laughed roughly and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I guess I was worried I’d never get to again.”

  She grinned, an energy and a lightness about her that he’d never seen while they were on the hunt for the book. “And these are some big windows in this pilothouse. Thank gods the marina is empty. Now tell me how you got out.”

  He looked over at her, memorizing the face that was so new to him, yet so cherished.

  A cloud drifted over the perfection of the afternoon. “Logan got me out.”

  Her head whipped toward him. “Really?”

  “Aye. We’ve been friends for ages—you were right about that. He was my partner when I robbed the Scottish Museum of Antiquities and was there the night it blew up. He was never caught for it.” He thought back to what Logan had told him. “It bothered him that I took the fall, especially since I saved his life when we first met. And I’ve kept his secret.”

  “Secret?”

  “Aye.” Logan had given him permission to tell her. “Logan is actually the god Loki.”

  “Are you serious? He’s been missing for centuries!”

  “Not missing, just hiding. He can shapeshift, which helps.”

  “And he took your place?” Disbelief tinged her voice.

  “Logan does no’ care for many, but when he does, it’s true. It was his turn, he said.”

  “Wow. Just, wow. I never would have expected that. He’s so damn ruthless and self-interested, at least according to the myths.”

  “It’s who the mortals created him to be. They believed him to be
that, so he was. But ideas have a life of their own. Loki’s his own man. Though they’ve been created by belief, all the gods are. They’re no’ always what we think they are.”

  “Nay, I suppose no’. But how’d he get you out?”

  “He figured out a way to get on campus and took my place in the cell.” Guilt ate at him, a gnawing sensation that chewed at his insides. But he’d get Logan out.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “He got onto the campus using whatever Carthe gave him in exchange for the Book of Worlds.” Though from what Loki had said in the cell, he hadn’t been intending to use it to free Ian. He wanted to be on campus for another reason, though Ian didn’t know what it was. “He used his shapeshifting ability to sneak in under the guise of one of the guards.”

  “And you used your invisibility to get out?”

  “Aye. I walked out of the prison behind another when he opened the main door.”

  “Oh my gods. So you’re on the run from the university”

  Dread sent a spike through Ian’s gut. “Aye. Logan is in my prison cell, shapeshifted into my form. I canna go back to Scotland or they’ll know something is amiss.” And he couldn’t go back until he had a way to free Loki.

  “Oh, shite.”

  The distress in her tone twisted his heart. This was what he’d been afraid of. She wanted to work for the university. He couldn’t go anywhere near the place.

  “I know it’s been such a short period of time,” he said. “And I’m no' expecting you to profess love or want to marry me right out of the gate, but I want to keep seeing you. I care for you, Fiona. More than I’ve ever cared for anyone.”

  She kissed him. “I wanted to visit you, but could no’. I dinna have clearance for some reason. I came to Spain to try to get over some of the pain of losing you, but it’s no’ working. I doona even enjoy working for the university anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. You wanted it so badly.”

  “I thought I did. But I want to be with you. I’ll go with you. We’ll hunt for artifacts on our own.”

  He grinned, joy singing through him.

  “But no’ for money. We canna sell them. We have to turn them over to a museum for conservation and display. I doona know how we’ll fund it, but we’ll find a way. Could you be happy like that?”

  “As long as you and I are creeping around old tombs and archaeological sites finding treasure, I’ll be just fine. And I can fund the expeditions. The money I put in the bank before I was imprisoned has done quite well. Interest is an amazing thing.”

  Her jaw slackened. “Interest? Over a hundred years? That’s enormous.”

  “Aye. And I know just what we’ll go hunting for first.”

  “What?”

  He dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Logan gave me this when he got me out. Whatever is at the end of this map will get Loki out of prison. After that, it’s just you, me, and adventure.”

  “And Fluffy Black.”

  He smiled. “Aye.”

  She leaned up and kissed him. “I think I love you.”

  A warmth burst in his chest that pushed out any coldness. He pulled her down to him for a hard kiss. “I think it’s more than mutual.”

  She grinned, and in her smile he saw the light of a future brighter than any he’d ever imagined.

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  Want to find out what happens to Logan in the next book in the series? It becomes available at Barnes and Noble on May 28th.

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  FATE UNDONE: EXCERPT

  PROLOGUE

  Asgard, Afterworld of the Norse Gods

  1213 AD

  Pain tore through Loki’s chest, burning through every vein in his body. He roared, his muscles straining against the chains that bound him to the rock. Despite his godly strength, he could not break them. Above him, the great snake draped over a tree limb, dripping venom onto his chest. Its yellow eyes gleamed, watching him as the fluid seeped from its fangs.

  The venom sizzled when it hit his skin, eating through to the muscle underneath. His heart must be beating against the air now, no longer protected within its cage of flesh.

  “You went too far, Loki,” roared Odin, the greatest of the Norse gods.

  Loki wanted to yell back at him, at the crowd of gods who stood around him, but words could not form on his tongue. I’d do it again, he would shout, if only the pain hadn’t stolen his words.

  “You’ll stay here until Ragnarok, when the final battle shall take your life. It is a fitting punishment for your crimes,” Odin said.

  The snake’s venom dripped again, shooting pain through Loki’s body until his vision blurred. He could barely see the other gods nodding their heads before they turned in unison and walked out of the clearing in which he was trapped.

  Bastards. But he hadn’t seen Sigyn. His love hadn’t been with them, thank gods.

  The venom dripped again, pouring from the snake’s mouth in quantities only magic could create. Loki roared, his voice hoarse, and almost passed out from the pain. A feminine scream pulled him from the daze.

  Suddenly, delicate hands reached out over his chest, attempting to catch the venom before it fell onto him. Sigyn.

  “No!” he roared, fear for her helping him find the strength to form words. He was close to blacking out from the pain.

  When the venom dripped onto her palm, she collapsed to her knees. He craned his head to see her, slumped against the stone upon which he was bound, her golden hair concealing her face. She’d passed out from the pain.

  Terror for her stole the breath from his lungs. He’d been angry about this punishment, but never afraid. Not until it risked her. She must leave here. His vengeance against the gods had been necessary and just. But he didn’t want her to suffer for it. If the other gods knew how he felt about her, they might punish her too. She’d done nothing wrong, but it wouldn’t stop them.

  He couldn’t bear to think of her suffering. It was a pain worse than the venom. He strained against the bonds, attempting to break them so he could drive her away.

  She moaned, then sat up. When her gaze landed upon his face, her eyes widened.

  “Go,” he rasped. “Go from here.”

  She pushed herself up and leaned over him, her tears dripping upon his face.

  “Go.” His voice was so rough it was almost gone. He had to make her leave. His pursuit of vengeance put her at risk. She would hate him for that. Would likely never forgive him.

  “Never. I’ll get you out of—”

  He roared when venom dripped into his wound, the pain finally taking him into the blackness.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Prison for Magical Deviants, Immortal University

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Logan Laufeyson gritted his teeth as the guard removed the manacles from his wrists and shoved him into his damp stone cell. The familiar rage at his powerlessness welled and he breathed deeply to tamp it down, counting back from ten. He had more important things to be worried about than an asshole guard.

  He’d only been in this hell three months, after all, and it was temporary. Barely anything compared to the tortures he’d suffered in the past or the century that his friend Ian had been locked in here before Logan had taken his place. He’d been a bastard for leaving Ian rotting in here for so long, but it had been necessary.

  Logan dragged his shirt over his head and used it to scrub the grit off his face. The worst thing about the daily prison work detail which he’d just returned from was the damned sand in the afterworld of Moloch. The best thing about prison work detail was that
the hellish Moloch was exactly what he’d been looking for when he’d broken into the Prison for Magical Deviants three months ago.

  He didn’t mind spending twelve back-breaking hours a day hauling rocks, not once he’d realized that the stone was being used to construct the place he’d been hunting for nearly a century. He could use that time to learn enough about it to destroy it.

  Though washing the sweat and grime off himself would be the greatest pleasure he had all day, he ignored the leaky hose in the corner of the cell in favor of using his magic to change his clothes. He closed his eyes and envisioned a shirt and pants identical to the ones he wore as his usual prison uniform—black on black. Not so different from his normal attire.

  What was different, however, was his face. He ran his hand over his unfamiliar nose and jaw. He was full shapeshifter, able to adopt any identity of man or beast. Since he was in this prison to take his friend’s place, he’d adopted a copy of his friend Ian’s face. Alone in his cell, he could change back to the looks he adopted normally. It, too, was a disguise, but he’d worn it for centuries and it was comfortable by now.

  He had no watch and no window, so no way to tell time. But he could count on the prison schedule to be military precise, and every seven days, directly after he was shoved back in his cell, he had a meeting.

  He listened carefully at the heavy wooden door for footsteps. Silence. It was highly unlikely anyone would come to his cell before a guard brought a miserly dinner in an hour. Once he was confident there was nothing but silence in the hall, he moved to the corner that would be hidden by the door if it opened.

  Logan drew in a deep breath and held out his hands, envisioning flame. A fire, two feet tall and at least as wide, burst into life in the corner, as if a hearth had been built. After a moment, a face appeared. The seer was always on time for their meetings.