by Kate Pearce
“Here,” she whispered.
“Good.” He lifted the long blade high and brought it down on Frey’s neck, severing the god’s head.
The battle was over.
The magic that had flooded her evaporated, leaving her empty and cold. Exhaustion finally won, and she hit her knees hard. Pain shafted up her legs, but it was just one more agony on top of all the others shrieking within her.
“Bryn!”
There was panic in Erik’s voice, and she wanted to respond but couldn’t find the energy. She couldn’t even lift her hands to catch herself before she toppled over into the burning sand. It filled her mouth and scorched her cheek.
The world spun in a sickening whirl when she was flipped over, and Erik hauled her into his arms. She blinked hard, but couldn’t bring his beloved face into focus. Please, Freya. Let me see him. One last time.
But the goddess didn’t answer her prayers. Perhaps a fitting punishment for one who’d been so lax in her service.
She blinked again, and his hand had risen into the air. When had he moved? He shouted words, but there was something wrong with her hearing, because sounds kept fading in and out.
Then a woman peered down at her, the sun reflecting off her golden hair so brightly it made Bryn flinch. Sif? What was a peaceful earth goddess doing on a battlefield?
Erik’s voice demanded, “Take us to Eir.”
9
Erik paced in a tight circle at the end of Bryn’s bed. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he watched her still body for even a hint of movement. “Why doesn’t she waken?”
Breath easing out in a quiet sigh, Nauma answered the question he’d already asked a dozen times. “Eir gave her a healing potion and said Bryn would sleep until she was fully healed. Apparently, she’s not fully healed yet.”
“It’s been three fucking days,” he snapped. “How long will it take?”
He knew it wasn’t reasonable to take his frustration out on the völva, but he’d left reasonable behind long ago. Three. Fucking. Days.
“Eir is the goddess of healing, Erik.” Nauma folded her arms over her breasts and gave him a look that said her patience was wearing thin. “If you think the human doctors can do better, feel free to take her to a hospital. Good luck explaining how she ended up in a coma.”
He growled, the wolf barely leashed. He’d already had to call in favors from some of his old contacts in law enforcement to get the local cops to drop Bryn’s kidnapping case. Bringing doctors in would just start that problem over again. Though if he thought for even a moment the mortals might help her, he’d do it, problems be damned.
Nauma’s expression softened. “I know you’re worried—”
“I’m not worried. She’s going to wake up. She’ll be fine.” His voice gave a humiliating crack on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “She will be fine.”
“Of course she will.”
He rounded on her, desperate for even a tiny scrap of reassurance. “Did you See that? That’d she’d be all right?”
She shook her head. “No, but I have faith in Eir’s abilities. She said Bryn would heal, and I believe her.”
“Right.” He paced another circle at the end of the bed. A bed they’d shared. But his Bryn was fire and passion, and the woman who lay there was still as death, pale as a winter moon, and cold to the touch.
What he wouldn’t give to have her dark eyes open. Her sharp tongue would be a welcome respite from this deafening silence. He hated it. He was going to start crawling the walls soon. Every second that passed killed him a little more, but he couldn’t bear to leave her. The moment he turned his back, she’d awaken just to spite him. Or die. He needed to be near, needed to see her chest rise and fall with every breath, proof that some life still flowed through her veins.
Gods help him if that stopped.
He might actually lose his mind. The wolf inside him struggled for dominance, luring him over to the bestial side. Give in to that, become the wolf and disappear, never look back.
It was tempting. So very tempting.
But the man couldn’t let go yet. Not while she still lived. If she died…
He shook his head, trying to banish that thought. She had to live. She had to.
He’d never quite realized how much comfort he’d taken in knowing that, no matter what happened, she would survive to see the new world with him. That they would find each other again, at the end of all things, and even when the worst had come to pass, she would be by his side. He would spend his days in her arms, finding endless pleasure in her body, coaxing her into that rare smile that lit his soul, having the life that should have been theirs so long ago.
But there was no comfort now, no solace as he watched her, helpless to do anything. Powerless to stop fate from ripping her away from him again.
The wolf within whined, and it was all Erik could do not to throw his head back and keen with the same agony. Man and beast both wanted their mate.
“She’s going to wake up, Erik,” Nauma said softly.
“When?” The word emerged as half-groan, half-sob. He didn’t give a shit that it was a noise a warrior shouldn’t make. Nauma could think whatever the hell she wanted of him.
“Now,” a rusty voice said from the bed.
“What?” He jerked around to face her, and found himself pinned in place by uncanny midnight eyes. Then he did sob, covering his face with one hand and setting the other against the wall to keep himself upright. “Gods.”
“What happened?” Bryn asked, her voice like gravel in a blender, but it sounded perfect to him. She was alive. She was awake. Finally.
Nauma answered her because Erik was still swiping tears from his face. “Our guys are all fine. Eir patched them up, and you too. Surtr and the two-headed frost giant escaped. Frey’s dead. That’s all we know at the moment.”
Nodding, Bryn rasped, “Water.”
“Right here.” Nauma aimed a straw at her mouth. “Eir said to give you this when you woke up.”
Bryn sucked down whatever was in the glass, but Erik waited, tense. Eir had given the other berserkers and him similar healing draughts, but he no longer quite trusted the drinks that magic-wielders offered. Potions had stolen her from him before. Would losing her be his punishment for killing Frey? Such a move would be divisive amongst those who dwelled in Valhalla.
Bryn licked her lips and pushed herself upright.
“Should you be moving so soon?” His question cracked with more harshness than he’d meant, and both women glared. His wounds had healed in seconds after he’d drunk the stuff, but he’d had nothing bad enough to kill him. Bryn had.
“I feel fine, actually.” Bryn nodded to the empty glass. “Eir’s potion did its work. I could use a shower though.”
“I’ll carry you.” He took a step forward, but she flinched back, and he froze.
“I can walk.” She swung her legs over the side of the mattress, her movements as fluid as ever. Her hair swung forward and covered her expression. She wore one of his T-shirts—the closest thing at hand when they’d returned—and it slipped off one shoulder. “I feel fine, I told you. Don’t concern yourself.”
Her eyes didn’t meet his, and that was wrong. Except for that first moment when she’d woken, she hadn’t looked at him. Why? Did she blame him for what Frey and the jötunn had done to her? What she’d gone through had been an act of revenge against Erik. If she’d never met him, she’d have been spared so much pain and suffering. He swallowed, willing her to face him, to say something.
Nauma seemed to sense the tension and pushed to her feet. “I’ll leave you two alone, but…you realize events have unfolded in ways not called for in the great prophecy. It’s a whole new ballgame now, kiddies.”
Looking at the völva, Erik asked, “What’s going to happen next?”
“I have no idea.” She smiled ruefully. “I’ll meditate on it—maybe I can See something. No promises though. This mess has been murky from the day you approached Bryn.”
He spread his hands. “You told me to.”
“I said you’d need a shieldmaiden. I never said which one and you know it.” She shook a finger at him. “Kata would have been another useful one to track down, wouldn’t she?”
Bryn rose easily, the hem of his shirt dancing around the tops of her thighs, just barely keeping her decently covered. A pity, that.
“If Erik hadn’t come to me, Frey might have killed me in my sleep. My farmhands would have been easy prey—lambs to the slaughter. Even if Frey had just kidnapped me, if other immortals hadn’t been here to do something about it… Well, we all know what would have become of me.”
He’d held the guilt at bay during the time she’d been comatose, but now it bit him hard. “If I hadn’t led him to you—”
“He’d have found me anyway,” she insisted, cutting him off. “It’s not like I was in deep hiding. I had no idea I needed to be, that I was a real target for anyone.”
“Would you have been a target if it weren’t for my love for you?” he snapped back. “If you had no connection to me, if I hadn’t come straight to you the second Nauma even nudged me in your direction, would Frey have come after you? How far in advance was his vengeance planned? We’ll never know, but…”
“Love?” Bryn’s eyes were wider and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them. Utter shock molded her lovely features.
“And that’s my cue. I’m off to meditate and focus my Sight. Good night, you two. Have fun—you’ve earned it.” Nauma disappeared through the door, the knob clicking softly as she shut it behind her.
* * *
Bryn was dreaming. She had to be. Only once had he ever said he loved her, right before he left her forever.
Or maybe she was dead.
Was this what Niflheim was like, what Hel did to the departed? Mocking phantasms that reminded you of all you’d never achieved in life? Shattered hopes turned to nightmares? Bryn doubted she’d be in much favor with Hel, so perhaps this was a special form of torment reserved just for the damned.
She pinched her arm hard, and it hurt…but maybe that didn’t mean anything.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, grabbing her wrist. “I didn’t drag your ass to Asgard and back right after I’d killed one of the most popular gods just so you could injure yourself. What the fuck?”
“Just…making sure I was awake.” And wasn’t that a stupid thing to say? She sounded half-cracked. Clearing her throat, she yanked her arm away from him. “How did you get me to Asgard?”
“Sif helped us.”
“Ah.” Now that he mentioned it, she recalled seeing the golden goddess before she’d blacked out.
“Ah? You have no other questions than that?” He prowled around her room like a caged animal. The wolf was unhappy about something.
From the corner of her eye, she watched as he went back and forth. “The goddess helped you because she doesn’t want the Earth to be consumed during Ragnarök, and because she actually likes her husband and doesn’t want to lose him during the apocalypse. Then she helped you because you were on a mission to throw a wrench in Loki and Frey’s plans, which also benefits her. How close am I?”
“Spot on,” he barked.
She tilted her head, a tiny bit of amusement filtering through her. “Why are you pissed off at me?”
“Because you almost died, damn you! Because you’re not even looking at me!” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Because…because I just fucking said I loved you and your response was to start pinching yourself.”
Love. Gods, he’d said it again. A sense of unreality swamped her, and she drew in a calming breath. “Erik, I…”
“You? What?”
How could he love her after all she’d done to him? Yes, he’d said he forgave her, but there was a pretty big distance between forgiveness and love. Then again, hadn’t she always loved him, even when she hated him? She pushed her hair back, wincing as she hit a tangled snarl. “You just surprised me.”
His mouth opened, then shut so quickly his teeth clacked together. He folded his arms and stared at her. “How could that surprise you?”
“Aren’t you the man who said you hadn’t given a shit about me since I murdered your son? Aren’t you the one who encouraged Frey to murder me?” She tilted her head. “Call me crazy, but that doesn’t scream undying love to me. That screams hate with the fire of a thousand suns.”
His dark expression eased a bit. “You had to know I didn’t mean it.”
“I hoped you didn’t.” But it had still hurt to hear the words, and admitting that would make her feel like an idiot so she kept it to herself. “I knew you’d try to come after me and you’d do what you could to save me, but…you’re supposed to stop Ragnarök. I got caught in the crossfire. That doesn’t have anything to do with love.”
He rubbed a spot between his eyebrows as if she’d given him a headache. “I didn’t come after you just because you got caught in the crossfire.”
Impatience radiated off of him, and maybe she deserved that. Maybe she should just take this perfect, beautiful thing he offered and not question it too much, but…she couldn’t. “Ah.”
He shook his head. “Ah?”
“You surprised me.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned quietly. “You said that already.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She glanced away. This wasn’t really going well, was it? She’d always been better with swords and horses than with people and emotions. Maybe it was time to beat a retreat. “I think I’m going to take that shower now.”
But his words brought her up short. “You said you forgave me for everything. Was that just a heat of the moment thing?”
“No, it wasn’t,” she answered softly. She had forgiven him for the pain he’d caused her, both inadvertent and deliberate. His apologies had eased the bitterness, and his understanding of her actions had made all the difference in the world. They weren’t the people they had been back then, and she was glad for that. She loved the man he’d grown into more than she’d imagined possible.
His voice went dull and flat. “You forgive me, but you don’t love me.”
“I don’t know how to trust love.” She worried the hem of the shirt between her fingers. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it, it just means I know how quickly it can evaporate into nothing. It’s fickle.”
“My love isn’t.”
She just gave him a look and didn’t respond.
“I have always loved you, Brynhild. My Bryn. I will love you until the end of time. Not even death could stop it.” He shook his head. “As soon as that vile, evil potion wore off and my memories came back, I loved you. Still, always. The one truth that makes up the utter core of my soul, Bryn, is that I love you.”
Oh. The sincerity that rang in his tone made moisture burn the backs of her eyes. Her lips trembled and she pressed them together to stop the shaking.
He caught her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I need you. I pretended I didn’t for so long, but I’m only half-alive without you. Being with you again made that so clear. I need you. Maybe if we stick with each other this time, you’ll find a way to trust in me, in us. It seems to me the worst stuff happens when we’re apart.”
“I…I could try that.” She blinked back the tears that threatened. “I don’t want to lose you again. I need you too.”
“You love me too?” He shook her a little.
She arched her eyebrows. “I said so.”
“You said you feel it, but don’t trust it. Say it directly,” he demanded.
“I love you. Even when I wanted to kill you, I loved you.” She didn’t mention that she’d hated herself for that weakness. He knew her well enough to have figured that out by himself.
He closed his eyes, his throat working as he swallowed. “Thank you.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her in, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. It felt so good to be close t
o him again, to feel the warmth of his big body, the resilience of his skin. She cupped the back of his head, stroking down to the nape of his neck. A bit of stubble prickled her palms—he hadn’t bothered to shave it smooth for at least a couple of days. Not while he was watching over her. Her heart squeezed at that realization. She wouldn’t have wanted to leave his side for very long either, if their roles had been reversed.
“Erik…I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more.” He turned his head and caught the ultrasensitive flesh just below her ear between his teeth. Her body quivered in response, her eyes rolling back. Desire was a hot glow in her belly that spread and consumed her like fire. She’d never thought to feel it again, when that giant came at her. The lush beauty of it made the pleasure that much sharper.
He tried to capture her mouth with his and she chuckled, evading him. “I really do need to shower. And brush my teeth. I think something died in my mouth.”
He laughed outright at that, holding her tight and rocking her in his arms. “Back in the day, that wouldn’t have been such an issue.”
“Welcome to the New World, my friend.” She tugged on his earlobe. “Hygiene is a fabulous thing.”
“You won’t mind if I help you in the shower, will you?” He squeezed her bare buttocks, sending a teasing finger gliding along the midline. “You have been convalescing for a while.”
She grinned, unable to help a shiver of need. “I wouldn’t want to overexert myself, you mean?”
“Exactly.” He nipped at that sweet spot again.
Her breath stopped, her nipples going tight. “I might be convinced to let you wash my back.”
“I’ll be very thorough,” he promised, his voice taking on that dark, sinful note that he used in bed.
A little humming noise escaped her. Slipping away, she turned for the bathroom and tugged the shirt over her head as she went. She glanced back when she dropped it and—oh, yeah—his glittering gaze was glued to her ass, a flush of lust already highlighting his cheekbones. Nice.
She crooked a finger at him. “You haven’t moved, lover. Come to me.”
