by Linsey Hall
Eventually, she noticed that Logan sat on the ground next to the tub, his back against the wall and his eyes on the ceiling. In the past, he’d always been what she needed him to be. Calm when she needed calm, strong when she needed strong, playful when she needed reminding that there was more to life than just her goals.
She needed to remember her anger with him, but she couldn’t. She’d nearly died and the last thing she’d thought of was him. No matter what bad might come or how he might hurt her, she was going to throw herself at him like a moth to flame. She couldn’t stop herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Logan sat next to Sylvi, trying his damnedest to keep his eyes off of her as she’d asked. It was a small thing, but he wanted to show her that he could take her wishes into account. That was the whole damned reason she was mad at him, he was fairly certain.
Eventually, ignoring her got to be too much for him and he turned to her.
“I’m going to wash your hair.”
“What? No.”
There was no strength behind her objection.
“It’s going to happen. You’ll like it, I promise.” He stood and went to the kitchen. It took him only moments to find a large bowl. When he returned to the bathroom, he took the shampoo bottle from a small shelf high up on the wall. The bubbles in the tub had thinned, but they still concealed most of her. He was both grateful for it and annoyed.
He knelt by the tub again and helped her sit. She didn’t resist. He was fairly certain that she didn’t have the strength to.
“Tilt your head back,” he said.
Her head dropped back and he scooped a bowl full of warm water to pour over her hair. The golden strands turned slick and dark. Once her hair was soaked, he squirted some of the sweet-smelling shampoo into his palm, then worked it into her scalp.
A tiny moan escaped her lips. At the sound, his cock hardened. There was no avoiding it, not while being so close to her naked form as she made noises like that.
There was nothing he could do about it, though. Not while she was in this shape. So he continued to wash and rinse her hair, taking great pleasure in it.
“Do you have any of that conditioner stuff?” he asked.
“Why? You like your job as hair dresser?”
“Immensely. Do you have it?”
“It’s included in the shampoo you used.”
Disappointment streaked through him.
“I think I’m ready to get out.”
His disappointment only became more intense. “You’re sure?”
“It’s getting cool.”
“All right.” He helped her out of the tub, sneaking a glance here and there because he wasn’t made of stone. She was slick with water and so beautiful it made his cock ache.
He helped her sit on the toilet seat once again and pushed her hands away when she reached for the towel. He dried her, patting the terrycloth over her smooth, damp skin while she sat docile. It was the quietest she’d ever been. He glanced at her face. Her eyelids were drooping.
She was exhausted. He picked up the pace on his drying and then lifted her into his arms and carried her into her bedroom.
Once he’d helped her sit on the edge of the bed, she asked, “Will you bring me a t-shirt from the top drawer of the dresser?”
He went to the dresser and pulled out the softest one, then returned to her and helped her put it on, trying to ignore when the backs of his fingers brushed her smooth skin.
“Thanks.” Her voice was slurred with exhaustion.
“Come on, time for bed. Tomorrow you’ll be good as new.”
He thought she fell asleep as soon as her head landed on the pillow. He should stretch out on the couch to try to get some good sleep, but he didn’t want to leave her side. So he slouched in the chair in the corner of the room and dozed off.
The dawn light woke him from a dream about Sylvi. He glanced at the bed to see that she was fast asleep. If yesterday was any indication, she could sleep nearly all day.
She should be fully healed within the next few days, but they couldn’t wait that long to attempt to destroy the labyrinth. As much as he wanted to stay and care for her, a greater threat loomed. He glanced at her one last time to ensure that she was sleeping, then set off across campus to get to work. He was going to have to do something he really didn’t want to do—ask for help—but it had to be done.
It took him only about an hour to find Warren’s office and complete his task, but by the time he left it, he had what he needed. When he returned to Sylvi’s cottage, he found her still asleep.
She finally woke around two in the afternoon. Rustling came from the bedroom and he rushed into the room.
“You shouldn’t be standing,” he said as he moved to her side and grabbed her arms to support her.
“I’m fine!” She shook him off. “I feel loads better. All that sleep really helped.”
“Just sit down, damn it.” He pushed her gently to the bed and she scowled but sat. “Nothing hurts?”
“Just a mild ache. Demigod, remember? Super fast healing.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do about the heart of the Retaliator? I think I’m well enough now.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ve asked Warren to get in touch with your friends. They’re going to come by tonight to discuss what’s next.”
“Good. I’m going to go shower.”
The hot water did wonders to brush the cobwebs out of Sylvi’s mind and set her back on the track to mental stability. Though she generally liked to linger in the shower, there was too much waiting for her outside.
She turned off the water and jumped out. After scrubbing herself off with her towel, she shot the blow dryer at her head just long enough to get rid of the worst of the dampness and then looked around for her clothes.
Damn. She hadn’t brought them in here. She never did and this time was no exception. She wrapped the towel around herself and crept out into the main part of the house. It wouldn’t do her any good to run into Logan while wrapped in nothing but a towel.
Of course, that was the first thing she did. He was coming out of her bedroom just as she walked through the doors.
He swallowed audibly and his knuckles whitened. He slipped by her and out of the room; she shut the door, her breath tight in her throat.
No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself forget the insane pleasure he’d given her the other night. How could one not think of something like that? It was bloody impossible.
She raced through dressing as an attempt to distract herself from thoughts of Logan. Soft old jeans and a loose sweater made for the perfect I’m too sick to bone you attire, though it was more a reminder for herself than a warning to him.
When she left her room, she found him in the kitchen making sandwiches. It was a homey scene that warmed her chest, which ultimately annoyed her.
He turned and held out a plate to her. “Here, lunch. Your friends will be by in a few hours.”
She took the plate. “Thanks.”
They ate in silence, but it was a comforting silence. She liked it. When she finished, she said, “I’m going to go work with the heart and the Architect’s knowledge in my staff to see if I can get anything else that’s useful.”
He nodded. She spent the next few hours in her room using her magic to try to glean anything useful. She didn’t learn anything new, and by the time the first knock sounded on the door, she was grateful to give her mind a rest.
Sylvi returned her staff to the aether and picked up the heart to bring it to her friends.
By the time she made it into the living room, it was full of people perched on all her furniture. Her gaze went straight to Logan, who’d changed his face to that of his alter ego, the one her friends were used to. She wondered if he’d ever adopt his old face and identity around strangers. Probably not as long as he was on the other gods’ shit list.
Esha and Aurora sat with their familiars—the Chairman
gazed longingly at Mouse while she ignored him. Warren stood behind Esha, his hands on her shoulders. Vivienne jabbed the fire with the poker, while Fiona sat on Ian’s lap in Sylvi’s largest wingback chair. Her injuries appeared entirely healed.
“Thanks for coming,” Logan said.
They all nodded.
Sylvi held up the heavy metal heart and described what she’d learned about it. She explained their plan for using it to magnify the wind of time to destroy the labyrinth. She finished by saying, “So we need your help to get into the labyrinth.”
“When?” Warren asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” Sylvi said. “I’ll be one hundred percent.”
Logan gave her a hard look, but when she scowled, he nodded. “Fine.”
“What about the Ancient One?” Esha asked. “Don’t you still have to deal with him?”
“Yes,” Logan said. “But we’ve no idea where he is. We’ll destroy the prison, and when the Ancient One comes crawling out of the woodwork, we’ll deal with him. You might have to hold him off until we get out of the prison.”
It wasn’t a bad plan, Sylvi thought.
“The problem,” Logan added, “is that the prison is built on the afterworld of Moloch.”
Shit. She couldn’t aetherwalk to an afterworld.
“I can aetherwalk to afterworlds,” Vivienne said, no doubt realizing the problem that Sylvi faced. “I’ll take you.”
“It won’t work,” Warren said. “I looked into it and Moloch has been blocked from aetherwalking. There’s a portal that’s only operational during work hours and the guards and overseers accompany prisoners through it.”
Sylvi’s heart pounded so hard it hurt her ribs. That was bad news. When she’d envisioned deploying the heart, she’d imagined that they’d aetherwalk there at night, when none of the guards or prisoners were there, and deploy the heart from the edge of the labyrinth. That way, she’d never even have to enter it or risk being captured by the guards and thrown in.
Destroying the labyrinth had just become infinitely more dangerous. She looked at Logan. “That means we have to infiltrate the prison, right?”
Logan took several moments to answer, as if he were searching his mind for any alternative. “Yes. It’s the only way in. I’d wanted to avoid this.”
“Me too.” Sylvi was the only one who could deploy the heart. She had to go in. Going through the prison had a much higher chance of alerting the Ancient One before they destroyed the labyrinth. The overseers who monitored the prisoners as they built the labyrinth had to be in the Ancient One’s pocket. If they sensed that something was amiss as Sylvi and Logan tried to infiltrate their operation, they could alert the Ancient One.
Dread filled her chest like water filling her lungs—totally suffocating. “I’ll have to take the form of a prisoner. But shapeshifting isn’t as easy for me as it is for you. The spell that will allow me to adopt another’s body will link my life force to that body. If it’s harmed—or killed—then I will be too.”
“Absolutely not.” Logan slashed a hand through the air. “Too dangerous.”
“Sounds risky,” Warren added. He snapped his mouth closed when Sylvi glared at him.
Sylvi turned her ire on Logan. “You can’t decide for me. The best you can do is guard the body whose image I steal and keep it safe. Until you can think of a better plan, it’s the one we’re going with. Don’t you think I can protect myself?”
“I know you can protect yourself, it’s just that I don’t like to put you in danger because of my problems.”
“They’re my problems, too,” she said, trying her best not to let her heart soften at his excellent answer. “I’ll also be thrown in there when it’s finished.”
He scowled, clearly unable to think of a better plan. Because there wasn’t one. “Fine. Do you really feel well enough to break into the prison tomorrow morning? That’s the next time the guards will be transporting prisoners for work detail.”
“I can do it.” Then she grimaced. She remembered that it wasn’t just her at risk. “Shit. Are you all ready to face the Ancient One if he realizes the labyrinth has been destroyed and comes after us? We might not be able to find him, but he’ll be able to find us.” They’d be at the center of the destruction.
“Always ready for a party,” Aurora said. Her cat Mouse perked her ears up, no doubt anticipating tearing out some throats.
“Thank you,” Sylvi said, immensely grateful for her friends.
They spent the next fifteen minutes planning the details of their attack. Warren would create a distraction in the prison so that they could sneak in with an invisible Ian as backup while the rest waited in reserve near the prison in case the Ancient One appeared. The prison was essentially the home base for the labyrinth. Or, at least, it was the only place they knew of. Staking it out was the best way to prevent the Ancient One from wreaking havoc—or better yet, to catch him.
When they were finished planning, their allies all filed out of the room after a quick series of goodbyes until it was just Sylvi and Logan. The tension in the air immediately became thick as a dense fog.
Sylvi swallowed hard and turned to him. He looked weary. He’d gotten rid of the false identity that he wore around her colleagues and had resumed his original face. The one that she knew and liked best.
“This is seriously risky, isn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded. “The prison is well guarded. It was easy enough to sneak out, but your spell to borrow another prisoner’s looks makes this complicated. I hate like hell that you have to go alone to the labyrinth. Sneaking in under the surveillance of the guards is dangerous. We don’t know who’s on the Ancient One’s side. If they discover you, they could aetherwalk you straight to him.”
“None of that will matter if anyone finds the body of the prisoner whose looks I borrow. The spell will knock him unconscious. If he’s hurt, the connection between us could break and I could die. Or be trapped in his image, which would be terrible.” She shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a man’s body. “You’re a god, the only one strong enough to protect the body. No one on the staff will stand a chance against you.”
He walked to her and gripped her arms, his gaze fierce. “No one will hurt that body.”
She nodded. “I know. We can do this. I’m just worried. It’s a risky spell.”
“You’ll be fine. What you need now is a distraction from worry.”
He was so right. What she wanted—him naked beneath her—could only lead to hurt. Everything good that happened between them now just twisted her heart with the impossibility of it all. But she wasn’t going to push him away anymore. Her brush with death had taught her that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Logan stared down at Sylvi. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
They both needed a distraction. Images of them naked together flashed in his mind. He could give her a distraction. He knew exactly how he wanted to do it, starting with laying her out on the couch and burying his face between her legs.
Instead of suggesting what he actually wanted, he nodded to a board game on the bookshelf to their left. “Is that hnefatafl?”
She glanced at it. “Yes, though I haven’t played in centuries. No here one knows how.”
“Fancy a game?” He hadn’t played the ancient Viking board game since he’d left Asgard. In fact, the last time he’d played it had been with her. They’d played often when they’d first known each other.
“All right.” She took the board down, carefully balancing it so that the red and white carved pieces didn’t tumble off. It was a strategy game somewhat similar to chess. She’d always been good at it. Better than him, in fact.
She set the board on the coffee table while he dragged a chair up to the side opposite the couch.
“Hang on,” he said, and returned to the kitchen. He snagged two cold beers out of the fridge, then popped the tops off and returned to the living room to find her seated on the couch in fro
nt of the board game. He took the chair that he’d pulled up to the table and handed her the beer.
She nodded her thanks.
“Red or white?” He nodded at the pieces on the board.
“Red,” she said, and pushed her piece across the carved wooden board.
He didn’t debate long before moving his white piece into place. She made her moves more slowly, just as he remembered.
“I’ve missed playing this with you,” he said.
She glanced up at him.
“Did you think about me a lot while you were in the cave?” she asked.
“Almost every second.” Those years had been the most physically miserable of his life. He’d faced starvation for decades, saved only by his immortality and the memory of her. Racked with pain, he’d been too weak to feed himself, so his healing had slowed even more. Wounded, starving, freezing. Immortality had saved his body, memories of her had saved his mind. The cave had been his crucible. Hardening him. Making him stronger.
“What did you do when you were well enough to leave?”
He didn’t know why she suddenly had questions about his life, but if she was turning a corner in her feelings for him, he would answer any question she had.
“By the time I left, there was no way for me to access Asgard to continue my fight against the gods, which was fine. That was as much about my ego as it was about standing up to those who would abuse their authority. It didn’t have to be gods I railed against. It was the early 16th century by then and there were plenty of wars to join.”
“So you fought mortal wars?”
He nodded. “I was a mercenary for several centuries. I took up a different name to avoid any residual wrath of the gods—Logan Laufeyson, the one that I carry now—and I fought battles on behalf of repressed mortals.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Not really. I enjoyed it. Sometimes I fought to settle the need in me to fight oppressors; sometimes I fought for enormous amounts of money. And maybe I was hiding. Burying my past and running from my fate. Some might say I spent centuries running. That I failed against the other gods when I escaped Asgard.”
