Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5)

by Linsey Hall

Sylvi nodded.

  “Let me say goodbye to Fiona first.” He strode over to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

  “I’m going to take him to the hotel near Petra,” Sylvi said. “You go back to my place. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

  Sylvi could tell he wanted to argue, to take control of the situation, but he didn’t. It would take her only moments to transport Ian and she didn’t need the help.

  “Fine. I’ll see you back at your cottage.” He turned and left.

  When Ian returned to Sylvi, his eyes were overly damp, but he didn’t say anything. She wrapped her arms around him and zapped him back to her hotel room in Musa Wadi.

  “Here?” he asked. “Gods, this is far away from Fiona.”

  “Good as any place and I needed to pick up my bag. I don’t think you should stay in the UK for now—not with the university’s reach. I’ll give you my number and you can call me. I can come get you in a heartbeat. And I’ll keep you apprised of Fiona’s status. As soon as she can leave the infirmary, Vivienne will bring her to you.” She volunteered her new friend, but knew she could count on her.

  “This is a fucking nightmare.” He dragged his hand down his face, leaving a weary expression behind. “I helped Logan with this because he got me out of prison. And because he’s my friend. But at what price?”

  “Nothing permanent. Fiona will be out soon and back to normal. Just be thankful she’s not mortal.”

  “Aye. I am. Keep me updated or I’ll go mad here.”

  “I will.” He looked so damned miserable that she felt awful for him. But there was nothing else she could do for him.

  Sylvi grabbed her bag and they went down to the front desk together to book the room for several more nights for Ian.

  They exchanged cell numbers and Sylvi said, “All right. I’ll give you an update soon.”

  “Thanks,” he said, though he still looked anguished and worried out of his mind.

  “Of course. I’ll be in touch soon.” She nodded and aetherwalked back to the university infirmary.

  “Thank gods,” Vivienne said as soon as she saw her. She appeared to have composed herself some. “That was insane. I’ve seen some pretty crazy things while I’ve been at the university, but I thought that whole mountain was going to fall on us.”

  “I think you were right. It would have. I’ve taken Ian to the hotel in Musa Wadi. How’s Fiona?”

  “Good. The healers say she’s improving. And thanks for getting Ian out of here. I panicked and brought them both here when we left the architect’s library but forgot that Ian was a wanted man. You saved my butt.”

  “Any time. We need to get Fiona out of here as soon as possible, too.”

  “Definitely. She filed for a leave of absence when she went after Ian. I don’t think they know she went to join him, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Shit.” Fiona getting in trouble for aiding and abetting an escapee would be bad. Fortunately, the healers weren’t super involved in the other departments, so they likely wouldn’t know something was strange.

  “I think it will be okay. She should be well enough to leave the infirmary by tomorrow morning. She won’t be completely healed, but a lot closer. You’ve got other stuff on your plate right now, so I’ll take her to Ian tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you. Keep me updated.”

  They said their goodbyes and Sylvi made her way back to her cottage. Logan would be there. She shivered. If she could put him elsewhere, she would, but her house was the place least likely for him to be discovered. No one would question her loyalty.

  The thought sent a pang of guilt through her as a little voice whispered that with Logan’s shapeshifting ability, he’d easily stay hidden from the university. Especially since the university thought they were looking for Ian MacKenzie instead of Logan Laufeyson.

  She wanted him to stay at her place even though she knew it was an awful idea. No matter how his rejection in the past had hurt her, she hated to focus on the bad. She’d always been that way. She’d rather remember the good, and with Logan, they’d had a lot.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Asgard, Home of the Norse Gods

  Mid-Autumn, 1213 AD

  After hours of searching, Loki found Sigyn in the forest to the north of the great hall. They’d agreed to meet this evening, but he couldn’t make himself wait, so he’d set out to find her. The more he’d learned about her over the past two months, the more he wanted to see her.

  “Sigyn!” he called.

  She stood from her crouched position near some lingonberry bushes. The shade of the forest trees tried to dim the golden glory of her hair, but it failed. The cool autumn day made her cheeks glow.

  “Loki!” The pleasure in her voice sent a streak of warmth through him. It was something he’d never sought—another’s pleasure in his company—but now that he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

  He increased his pace to a trot and stood before her in seconds. She set her berry basket on the ground and threw her arms around him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

  He groaned low in his throat, the heat of her soft touch streaking through him until his shaft hardened. He wanted to plunge his hands into her hair and hold her steady while he ravaged her mouth. More, he wanted to lay her down upon the soft bed of the forest floor and taste every inch of her.

  But he held himself back, drinking up the pleasure of her chaste kiss. He didn’t have much experience in this, but she had less. Though he’d been a god for hundreds of years, he’d been so driven by his compulsion to wreak havoc on the other gods that the pursuit of women had been pushed aside.

  Until he’d met her. The last two months had been surreal. He’d spent every moment that he could with her, learning that he loved everything about her. She was clever and funny and dedicated to her goals, even though he didn’t agree with them. Godhood didn’t impress him, but if she wanted it, then she should have it.

  Every second of every day, he’d wanted to kiss her and touch her. But they had eternity if they wanted it, so he took it slow for her, even though there were times when he wanted to push it hard and fast until they both forgot themselves in the pleasure of the other’s touch.

  She pulled away from the kiss and he silenced a sound of disappointment.

  The smile she gave him stifled the feeling. “You’ve come to me early.”

  “I couldn’t wait.”

  “Good. That’s how I like it.”

  Pleasure and surprise pulsed through him. Did that have a double meaning? He swallowed hard and shoved the thought away.

  “Do you like lingonberries?” He nodded to her basket.

  “Well enough. But these are for Baldr.”

  Jealousy streaked through him. “For Baldr?”

  She nodded. “He’s been even worse than usual. Ever since I stepped on his cloak. To regain his favor—if I ever had it—I’ve shot an elk and the kitchen will turn the berries into sauce. It’s his favorite.”

  The idea of her pandering to Baldr nearly made him growl. “You don’t hate this? Having to kiss their arses?” He could never do it.

  “Of course I do. I despise it.” Her tone was sharp. “But I don’t have your freedom. You’re already a god. If I’m ever going to ascend to godhood, I must have the other gods’ favor so that they’ll approve my ascension when Freya deems my magic worthy. It doesn’t matter what I really feel—only what he thinks I feel. And it’s clear that Baldr wants everyone to think he walks on the clouds.”

  He shoved his hand through his hair, hating that she had to do this. If only he could make it better…

  But making the gods like him, or anyone else, wasn’t his strong suit. If he could make her feel better, though, that would be enough.

  “You say it only matters what he thinks you feel?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then serve the elk and lingonberries, but let’s make you feel better about all the rest. Come.” He took her hand and led her to a fal
len log. After removing his cloak and spreading it upon the log, he helped her take a seat.

  “What do you plan?” she asked.

  “Why don’t we make Baldr a little bit more humble?” He waved his hands and Immortal Fire burst into flame two feet above the ground. Three feet tall and at least as wide, there was an image within.

  “It’s Baldr! And some girls from the village.” Sigyn’s tone darkened. “He does like the girls from the village, though I’m not sure how much they like him.”

  The thought made Loki frown. He didn’t like the idea of the girls being coerced. “Baldr is so proud of his hair.”

  “Yes. Always talking about how golden it is,” Sigyn said. She didn’t sound impressed. No surprise, as hers was far brighter.

  “Falcons don’t use much to build their nests, but they could be convinced to take a bit of golden thread.”

  Sigyn gasped. Loki reached within himself and called out to the falcons who flew above the forest. He couldn’t speak to all animals, but he had a connection with falcons. He felt them acknowledge his request and careen toward the village.

  Within the flames, four falcons appeared above Baldr. The largest dove and plucked a hair from Baldr’s head. He slapped at his skull, then jerked when another falcon swooped down and plucked another hair.

  Sigyn laughed, the sound high and clear in the still forest. A grin stretched across Loki’s face.

  Soon, dozens of falcons were swooping toward Baldr, each plucking a hair for their nest. Baldr drew his sword and slashed at the air, but the falcons were too fast. He covered his head with his hands and ran through the town, the falcons chasing him and plucking hairs. They came so fast and so thick that they were no doubt dropping them as they plucked. Though Loki and Sigyn couldn’t hear sound through the flames, the girls in the village clearly laughed.

  “Oh, Loki! He’ll be so angry!” Sigyn laughed. “But I don’t care. It’s too funny. And cruel. But I don’t care about that either right now. He deserves it.”

  “He’ll never know it was for you.”

  Baldr was still running through the town, past laughing butchers and fishmongers and grocers. He was down to half a head of patchy hair. Within minutes, he was plucked completely bald.

  “Seen enough?” Loki asked.

  “Yes.” Sigyn said. “Thank you. He deserved that. And tonight I’ll serve him the elk and lingonberry sauce and hopefully curry his favor. By the time his hair grows back, perhaps he’ll even support my ascension.”

  “And you’ll be able to look at him and remember me.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go find a sunny spot.”

  She nodded and rose. They walked out of the forest to the meadow at the southern edge. After he spread his cloak upon the ground, they lay down and looked up at the clouds. He felt her hand on his and squeezed.

  “Thank you for that,” she said. “I’ve hated having to scrape before Baldr all the time. It did me good to see his pride take a beating.”

  “I enjoyed it. And have done far worse than that.”

  “I know. And you don’t care that the gods know it, do you?”

  “No. They must know that I do it—that’s the point. No matter how miserable they try to make me, it’s worth it. I am balance. I am the counter to the gods’ arrogance. Without me, their uninterrupted hubris will cause catastrophe. A mountain must not grow unchecked lest it blot out the sun.” Dark pride rushed through him. It was his purpose.

  “You’ve done some terrible things according to the stories. One day, if you anger enough of them, they could destroy you. They’re vengeful. Don’t you want to avoid that? To at least temper your tricks with caution?”

  “No. I don’t even think I could. It’s how I was made. Driven by my purpose to level the other gods by any means necessary. Trickery, of course, and deception are my faithful tools. Through cunning, I’ll avoid the consequences of my actions.”

  “You can’t avoid all consequences! And mortal belief may have created you to be that way, but once born, you can determine your own fate. I was born a demigod, but I will change my fate. I will become a god.”

  He tilted his head to look at her. She gazed at him with such intensity, such determination. Her beauty and strength struck something within him. Something that the eddas might call love. “And I believe that you will. But I like my role in this world. I see no need to change it.”

  She scowled at him.

  “Come,” he said. “Don’t be angry with me. Enjoy this fine day.”

  She continued to stare at the sky, her arms crossed over her chest. “How can I, with worry plaguing me?”

  He rolled so that he could lean over her. “I can think of a way.”

  She smiled up at him. “Can you, now?”

  He nodded, his body tightening with a soul-shattering need for her. The way she gazed at him, the feel of her pressed to him, made him tremble, made his arms shake just slightly until he forced them to still.

  Control. He must maintain control, else he’d fall on her like a ravening wolf, hurting her or frightening her away.

  He leaned down, every muscle tensed, and brushed his lips against the sweetness of hers.

  Sigyn gasped when Loki’s firm lips glanced across hers. The heat, the sheer need, in his eyes before he’d lowered his head made her think that he’d crush his lips to hers.

  What he actually did was far more devastating. He feathered his lips down her jaw and across her neck, so gentle that she barely felt him. It made her desperately want more. The whisper of his breath sent a shiver from her neck to the unbearably sensitive spot between her thighs. She hung on a precipice of desire, waiting for his touch.

  The waiting, the wanting, made it all the sweeter. She’d wanted him so badly all these months, but had been afraid to pursue more after the way his first kiss had made her magic feel out of control.

  He withheld—perhaps he sensed her hesitation—but it only made her want more. It made her so desperate that she feared she’d claw at his clothes to bare him to her, to force him to break so that she’d finally know him the way she longed to.

  As one with her, an answer to the need that streaked through her. A balm to the pain of not having him.

  His lips found the shell of her ear and his voice rasped against her nerve endings. “Fates, the things I want…”

  The desire in his voice shook her to her core. His breath came hard and unsteady, a mirrored cadence of her own. Only then did she realize that his arms trembled on either side of her where they supported his weight above her.

  He wanted her so badly that he was shaking. He’d held back all this time for her. Because he’d sensed her hesitation.

  A rush of emotions tumbled through her—gratitude, annoyance, frustration, desire. Desire was the victor. She’d wanted this for so long; she wouldn’t let his kindness get in the way.

  She pushed at his shoulders, delighting in the surprise that flashed across his face, and forced him onto his back. He put up no fight, else she’d never have accomplished it. He was letting her be in control and she liked it.

  With a wicked laugh, she climbed atop him. He shuddered at the feel of her, his eyes closing slightly. When his hands came up to grip her hips, she shuddered as well.

  She leaned down and kissed his neck, dragging her lips along the smooth skin, and shifted her hips until she felt the hard press of him between her thighs. A streak of pleasure shot through her.

  “Sigyn.” His voice broke on her name.

  “Have you done this before?” she asked. She hadn’t. She barely had a clue what she was doing, knew only that she was following some driving instinct within her.

  His fingers bit into her hips and he thrust upward, making her cry out at the feel of him, hard and hot against her. “No. It’s a distraction from my duties. But you… I can’t resist.”

  Surprise flashed through her, then a streak of happiness at the thought. She leaned down and kissed him, gasping when he took control with his lips. He might be o
n the bottom, but only because he’d let her put him there.

  She wanted him so desperately, wanted to feel his pleasure and his loss of control more than she wanted her own breath. More than she wanted her own pleasure. The thrill of his responses, of his need for her, clouded her mind.

  Clumsily at first, she began to ride him, rubbing her sex against his through the fabric that separated them and picking up a rhythm that forced harsh noises from his throat. His response spurred her desire to wild flames.

  He was so hot and hard and big that it overwhelmed her. She couldn’t get enough of the scent of his arousal or the scrape of his stubble against her cheek. The heat of his breath on her neck. All of it pushed her higher and harder.

  Something unbearably intense coiled within her when she felt his hands grip her hips and move her. He groaned as if he’d lost himself and dragged her up and down his hard shaft. On every upward motion, his hardness pressed into a spot that made stark pleasure jolt through her.

  Suddenly, she felt his pleasure within her, harsh and desperate. She felt her own still, but his was distinctly different. His pleasure made magic spark inside her, driving her movements until she’d wrested control back from him.

  He let her take him, throwing his head back with eyes closed and gritted teeth. Fates, he was so beautiful. She wanted him to have this, to make him feel everything that put this look of incredible, unbelievable pleasure on his face. It made her wild to think she could do this to him.

  She rode him harder and faster, pushing him to the peak that he was desperate to reach and she was desperate to witness. A harsh shout left his throat and his hips jerked beneath hers.

  He shuddered, his mouth open on a silent cry. Euphoria flowed through her, sent power through her veins that was so strong, so fierce, she felt she might she’d explode from it.

  As his tremors quieted, she tumbled off him, shaking from need and roiling magic that made her skin tingle. She was a trembling mess of feelings and confused impulses.

  Loki sat upright, and through blurred vision, she could see the concern on his face as he said, “Are you all right? Tell me what’s wrong!”