by S. T. Bende
“That’s really generous of you, ladies. Takk—Brynn and I appreciate the hospitality.” With a jaunty wave, Henrik dropped my hand and we broke into a light jog. We moved across the meadow, through the oak trees, and onto a clover-lined path I presumed led to the waterfall.
“You don’t want to go back?” I asked in confusion. The enchantment hadn’t worked on me, but maybe it was because I was a girl. Elves had little use for female visitors from a reproductive standpoint.
“Nope.” Henrik held up his wrist and my eyes fell on the bracelet.
“Oh. Oh!” My mouth fell open. “It worked! The charm blocker worked!”
“Of course it worked.” Henrik rolled his eyes without breaking his run. “When has a piece of my tech ever not worked?”
Now was probably not the time to remind him about our initial model for the nano-molecular particle accelerators. Odin’s pear orchard stood as testimony to our failed attempt at advancing implosive technology.
“Henrik Andersson.” I ran at his side. “You are, quite simply, the most brilliant scientific mind of our day. Nobody is immune to elf charms. Nobody. I’m not even going to ask what you put into these things.”
“Yeah, don’t.” Henrik slowed to a walk. I followed suit. He wrapped long fingers around my wrist, circling the bracelet. My eyelids fluttered. Stop it, Brynn. “Take this thing off the minute we Bifrost out of here. I didn’t have time to study the long-term effects.”
“Fair enough.” Goosebumps still peppered my skin where he touched me. I let out an involuntary shiver, and Henrik ran his other hand over my arm.
“You cold, sötnos?” He pulled me closer and slipped his arms around my back. It was a comforting gesture, one intended to create warmth. And it did create warmth. Just not the kind my elf-magnet friend probably intended.
“I’m okay.” I rested my cheek on the board that was his chest and let my mind wander as Henrik slowly moved his thumbs along the muscles of my back. The motion smoothed the knots that had tripled in size since Freya’s disappearance.
Freya’s disappearance…
My mind tried to push out the mental pictures of the last time this happened—the waiting, the searching, the gut-wrenching terror as we prepared for the inevitable, and finally, shortly after Freya was returned, the official visit from Odin’s guard. His announcement of what we’d lost nearly ripped my soul in two, with a tear so deep there was no question of it ever fully healing—mitigation was the best I could hope for. I’d silenced all thoughts of those hellish weeks in the aftermath where I’d struggled to stay afloat; when I’d accepted there would be hole in my heart from then to eternity. I’d buried that agony deep in the emotional vault to be lost forever. But as I rested my head against Henrik’s torso and allowed myself to relax in his embrace, a jolt of pain struck my gut. Get it together, Aksel. Now. I jumped out of Henrik’s arms, slamming the door against the flood of memories that threatened to undo my perfekt control. It was the blessing and the curse of being immortal—I had all the time in the world to understand why things had to happen the way they did, but I’d drive myself to madness if I allowed the sheer weight of centuries of memories to pull too heavily on my consciousness. I was really good at letting things go. Really good. But every once in a while, a figment from my past came back to haunt me.
Even though I gave that figment a Viking funeral long ago.
“Brynn! Wait!” Henrik’s voice sounded far away. I hadn’t realized I was running, but now I found it almost impossible to stop. My legs moved without a conscious connection to my brain. My feet pounded against the soft clovers, the pace matching the pulse of blood against my ears. I ran and I ran until I sucked in air and my chest felt raw. The burn in my muscles was searing, punishing. It grounded me in the physical realm, tearing me away from the anguish in my mind. Never go back.
“Brynn!” Henrik’s hand on my arm jolted me back to the present. He whirled me around, and I was so discombobulated I fell right into him. He wrapped a heavy arm around me, holding me firmly in place. I threw my arms around his waist and squeezed, anchoring myself to him. “Brynn?” Henrik leaned back, lifting my chin with one finger. Grey-blue eyes bore down, looking so intent I thought he might be able to see right through me. “What just happened?”
“Nothing.” I hiccupped. I wanted to look away, tear my eyes from that too-intense gaze. But being this close to Henrik was mesmerizing. Enchanting. He was every bit as dazzling as the elves and fairies whose charms we were trying to avoid.
Too bad his magic bracelet didn’t block out guys.
“Were you thinking about last time?” he asked in a soft voice. I wanted to lie, to tell him I was fine, over it, and that it was locked away in the black box in my chest where I stored all unwanted emotions so my perfekt control never wavered. Henrik’s pupils dilated in concern, and the color of his eyes shifted to a slightly deeper blue. Gods, I couldn’t lie to him. I’d tell Henrik anything he wanted to know. Ever.
“Oh, Brynnie.” Henrik rubbed my jaw between his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m so sorry. I should have thought about what losing Freya again would do to you. If you want, I can take you home and—”
“No.” I shook my head violently. “I’m in this with you. I may not have been old enough to do anything to help back then, but this time I am. You and I, we’re going to take that perp down. Or her. Or them. Whatever. And then we’re going to make whoever it is pay.”
“Brynnie, Brynnie, Brynnie.” Henrik rested his chin on the top of my head. “You are something else.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, trying to ignore the smell of sunshine coming off his chest. How was it possible for someone to smell like, well… like happy? Henrik smelled like happy.
“No, I mean it.” Henrik pulled back. His thick hair was disheveled from our jog, but his eyes bore their telltale twinkle, as if he viewed the world as an adventure yet to be conquered. Immortality had always been so easy for Henrik. For me, some days, it felt inescapable.
“You mean what exactly?” I fumbled, forgetting our conversation.
“You’re something else. You’re strong. You’re smart. You’ve been through Helheim, but you don’t let the past drag you down.” He moved his thumb to stroke my jaw and I felt a pull in my belly. “If I’d seen what you saw…”
“You’ve seen worse,” I reminded him. “You were Elite Team before you were Tyr’s guard. I know the kinds of assignments Odin sends that group on.”
“Yeah, but there’s a big difference. Those were just assignments—no personal ties. What you saw—”
Henrik broke off as I held a finger to his lips. Despite everything I’d done to put my emotions on lockdown, my eyes pooled with tears. I squeezed them shut to stop the inevitable embarrassment. “Can we talk about something else?” I begged. It was hard enough to keep the door locked without someone bringing it up. Especially someone I already felt vulnerable around. My gaze darted from left to right, looking for something—anything—to talk about. “Like, uh… that.”
I exhaled slowly as I took in our surroundings. A crystal blue pond lay to my right, its surface barely disturbed by the cascade of water tumbling down a moss-lined mountain. Grey stones intercepted the liquid at regular intervals, creating a white mist that framed the waterfall from top to bottom. Clovers and wildflowers surrounded the pool, and pink and purple butterflies darted from bloom to bloom, wings flapping gently in the light breeze.
“I guess this is the waterfall?” I shook my head at my obvious words. “It’s so… it’s so…” Words failed me, and the nearness of my memories mingled with the thrill of Henrik’s touch, causing my eyes to water anew. He was here. He was safe. He was… doing everything he could to make me feel better, and I was crying on him. Weakling. This was so unprofessional. I pounded my fist against his chest. “Dang it! Sorry, Henrik. Just give me a minute and I’ll be normal again.”
“Brynn,” Henrik soothed. He laid his cheek on top of my head and rubbed my lower back. His hands traced
a familiar pattern, and I started to calm, as if his touch drew the pain right from my heart. Typical. The god was totally out of my reach, but he was the only one who knew how to make me feel better. His hands moved lower, the tips of his fingers dancing just above the waistband of my cargos. Correction. Henrik Andersson didn’t know how to make me feel better. He knew how to make me feel amazing. My heart thudded so hard, he probably felt it through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. Hopefully he’d just think I was nervous about our mission or something lame. Poker face, Brynn. Control. Control.
“Talk to me,” Henrik ordered, and any hope for resolve vanished at his commanding tone. “I want to be here for you, but I can only help if you let me.”
My jaw twitched, and a traitorous tear trickled down my face. This time I didn’t know what to blame—my heartache at my memories, or my frustration at having spent a lifetime loving someone who’d be married with kids long before Freya ever released me from her convent. Sometimes life was so unfair. Being of Asgard required a life of sacrifice—I got that. But did I have to sacrifice the thing I’d wanted with all my heart for my whole entire existence?
Oh, gods. What did the contract matter at this point? If the past was any indication, it wouldn’t be long before all Hel broke loose. And if, Odin forbid, it was Henrik that I lost this time around, did I really want to spend the rest of my existence knowing I didn’t tell him how I felt while he was still alive? Still alive… I drew a shaky breath at the thought of a world without Henrik. Regroup, Aksel. Nobody’s dying… not today, at least. But I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. The fact was, with Freya gone, there was a very high likelihood the realms would go mad very, very soon. And if we didn’t recover Freya before the realms began their descent into darkness… if I really did lose Henrik… Breathe, Brynn. It’s going to be okay. I think. I drew my shoulders. The worst case scenario was a very real possibility. And if it came to fruition, I needed to know that I’d laid all my cards on the table with the god who meant more to me than anything in the cosmos.
Without giving it another thought I reached up and cupped Henrik’s face. My small hands barely covered his broad cheeks, day-old whiskers scratching my palms. Henrik’s eyes widened, and before I lost my nerve I pulled him down to me. I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips against his. I’d imagined Henrik’s lips would feel rough, but they were softer than the Egyptian cotton sheets Mia recently snuck into every room in the cabin, and touching them sent sparks of heat straight through me. I ran my tongue lightly along the spot where his top and bottom lip met and let out a sigh. He even tasted like happy. Sunshine, and salt water, and fresh air and calm. I pressed against him and kissed him harder, giving in to the explosion of joy bursting inside my brain like a New Year’s fireworks display. I was kissing Henrik Andersson. Kissing Henrik Andersson! It was the culmination of every dream I’d ever had coming to fruition in one glorious, beautiful, picture-perfekt package—in front of a waterfall, no less. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried. Mortals would make movies about this moment. Composers would write symphonies. Wagner’s successors would have to add a new movement to Flight of the Valkyries just to honor the beauty of this impossibly ideal experience.
In my euphoria, I completely failed to notice one very important detail.
Henrik wasn’t kissing me back.
In fact, he pushed me away.
CHAPTER FIVE
STRONG HANDS WRAPPED AROUND my biceps and lifted me upward. Henrik pulled his head back and set me on the ground an arm’s length away. He held me as I looked up in confusion.
“Henrik?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. His face was steady, the look in his eyes one of compassion. Oh, gods. He felt sorry for me.
Recognition fell like a wet blanket. Humiliation cascaded in waves, intensified by the realization that in one moment of stupidity I’d completely and totally mutilated any chance I ever had at preserving the single most important relationship in my world. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.
“I… I…” I turned to run, but Henrik’s grip was too tight. He held me in place, refusing to let me escape the horror of my gross misjudgment. “I am so sorry,” I whispered. Forget the time freezer; the next invention on my list was a time reverser. I’d have given anything to erase the last sixty seconds of my life.
“Don’t be sorry.” Henrik’s sympathetic gaze was beyond humiliating. Dear Mother Goddess of Alfheim, in whom I previously did not believe. Sorry about that. If you’re listening, pretty please open up the ground and swallow me whole. ’Kay? Skål, Brynn.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Henrik kept looking at me. Now would be a great time for that earth-swallowing bit, Mother Goddess.
“Don’t apologize for doing that. Ever.” Henrik spoke very calmly, like he was afraid he’d spook the crazy girl who just mauled him. “But you know we can’t, Brynn. You’re a valkyrie. If Freya found out we kissed, she’d withhold your true love come promotion time.”
Heat prickled my skin as blood rushed to my face. “I don’t care. That’s the stupidest rule I’ve ever heard.”
“You may not care, but I do.” Henrik kept his eyes locked on mine. “Listen very carefully, Brynn. You’ve got a lot riding on keeping that vow. If you maintain your purity until you reach rank—”
I threw my ponytail over my shoulder and glared. “Do you hear how archaic it is? Maintain my purity? What is this, Victorian England?”
“It’s the valkyrie code. And it’s important to you.”
“Not as important as some things,” I whispered. The tears pooled anew. This time I didn’t try to stop them.
Henrik’s expression softened and his eyes turned another shade darker. He shook his head and took a step back. His hands released my arms, and I felt the divide grow between us. Oh gods. No, no, no. “Listen to me, sötnos. I’ve known you your entire life. And I love you enough to remind you that as a valkyrie, that code is the single most important thing in your existence. I know it’s hard. I followed the same code at the Academy. The difference is, Odin gave me a squadron of assassins to oversee for holding up my end of the bargain; I didn’t get rewarded with my perfekt match like you will.” Henrik’s mouth turned down in a frown.
“I don’t care,” I muttered. I’d given up hope on the whole ground-swallowing thing. Now I just wanted this mortifying conversation to end, and for everything to go back to the way it was.
“You should care.” He spoke fiercely, as if he were trying to convince us both, but I was too humiliated to do more than stare at my boots. That Mother Goddess was going to have a lot of explaining to do, if she existed anywhere in this realm. Or anywhere at all.
“It’s not like anyone would know. Freya’s not here,” I muttered to my feet.
“Freya’s not here?” a musical voice called from across the pond. The notes carried on a warm breeze, light and lilting… and devastatingly ill-timed. “Pity. I was so hoping we could catch up, one love goddess to another.”
Henrik’s spine straightened. “Perfekt timing as always, Finnea.”
Curiosity body-checked mortification, and I followed Henrik’s gaze. A shiny-haired, long-legged fairy made her way toward us. Lavender curls cascaded to her obnoxiously small waist, while two transparent wings framed her body like a pale indigo halo. She wore a strapless mini-dress that barely covered her irritatingly ample assets, hugged her nonexistent belly, and flared into a tulle tutu that stopped halfway down her thigh. Shiny leather boots in the brightest of purples covered calves that looked like she must have spent her developmental years en pointe. Their heels added another four inches to her already nearly six feet of height, which meant that by the time she finished sashaying around the clover-strewn path and made it to us, she stood at least a whole foot taller than me.
What I ask is for the ground to swallow me whole, and what I get is an honest-to-goodness fairy? Whoever governs this realm has a seriously cruel sense of humor.
“Henrik, darling. It’s been far too long since
you’ve paid me a little… visit.” Finnea twirled a lavender curl with one finger as she walked. When she got to us, she reached out to put her free hand on Henrik’s bicep. Since we were still only standing a foot apart, it could have been an accident that Finnea’s long fingernail speared my arm as she reached for Henrik’s. But judging by the way she sneered at me, it probably wasn’t. Wench. That hurt.
“You brought a girl? To our spot?” Finnea looked down her aquiline nose in disgust. Her steely green eyes seethed distaste, and if the way she flared her delicate nostrils was any indication, I’d have said she wasn’t my biggest fan.
Since my face was level with a pair of barely contained boobs I’d have given my eyeteeth for, and the flesh on my arm was slightly tender from the jab she’d inflicted, the feeling was just the slightest bit mutual.
Our spot? Was Finnea Henrik’s… back the Bifrost up. Did Henrik have a secret girlfriend? No wonder he hadn’t kissed me back. Oh, gods. Could this day get any worse?
Henrik’s shoulders tensed, and he shifted his weight. Everything about him screamed “uncomfortable,” but he reached out to pull Finnea into a hug. A welcoming hug.
What the Helheim had become of my life?
“Finnea, this is Brynn. We work together.” His fingers rested lightly on the fairy’s forearm, and a lead balloon landed in my stomach. We work together? We shared a house, a charge, and an entire lifetime of memories, but all we did was work together?
I clenched my jaw so hard it popped in protest.
