The Complete Fenris Series

by Samantha MacLeod

  He moaned into my hair, and his chest trembled. I pulled away just long enough to grab the edge of the shift I’d worn to bed and tug it over my head. Fenris watched me with wide, red-rimmed eyes, his gaze hungry and almost disbelieving, as if I were one of the phantoms he’d seen in the dungeons of his mother’s castle. As if he expected me to vanish.

  “I’m here,” I whispered.

  I wrapped my hands around his shoulders and touched my lips to his, softly, as though we’d never kissed before. His mouth opened for me.

  “I’ll protect you,” I promised.

  My kiss swallowed his response. I pushed him backward, forcing his shoulder blades to the soft mattress. He groaned as I moved atop him. I leaned back and ran my fingers down his chest, enjoying the soft rasp of his hair against my palm. His thighs tightened beneath mine as my hand reached his hips. I hesitated just a moment before sinking my fingers into the tight curls at the base of his shaft.

  His cock pulsed with need as my fingers circled the base, lingering on the soft skin of his thighs, caressing the delicate sack between his legs. A single clear drop formed at the tip, and his hips surged forward, as if desperate to reach the throbbing heat between my legs.

  Such hunger, I thought. Such aching, desperate need. It was like touching the beating pulse of life itself or stoking the fires that kept the Realms burning.

  Slowly, I leaned forward to bring my lips to the tip of his cock. I kissed away the drop, so much like a tear, then ran my lips down his smooth shaft. Fenris moaned above me. His fingers sank into my hair as if he needed something to hold, lest he be swept away. I licked and kissed his sweet, familiar length, loving the way my touch made him gasp and tremble.

  But the hunger between my own legs was impossible to ignore. With a last, long moan, I broke free of the kiss I’d given his shaft and moved up his body, spreading my legs wide. When I sank onto him, we both cried out our pleasure across the Nine Realms.

  Stars, how could it still be so good? Joining with Fenris felt like coming together with a part of myself I’d never realized was missing. He filled all the empty places inside of me and made me whole again. I moved against him in the perfect rhythm we’d first discovered on the banks of the Lucky River, bathed in the flickering, filtered light of the Ironwood forest. Ecstasy swelled within me until my breath hitched and my vision blurred. Even the firelight seemed to surge with us, moving and receding, building and building, until the borders between me and my lover vanished, and we gasped and cried together as one, claiming our victorious pleasure as the Realms spun on beneath us.

  THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Something’s happening,” Fenris called down to me.

  I shifted on the thick pine duff where I’d been dozing in the afternoon light.

  “Can you tell what?” I asked.

  Fenris had climbed to the top of the enormous boulder we’d come to call the lookout. After Fenris broke Leyding and I begged Óðinn for shelter, we’d been more or less ignored in Val-hall. Fenris tried to train with the warriors, at least for the first few days, but no one would spar with him. He told me it was because he’d already proven his strength, but his forehead furrowed as he spoke, and I felt his unspoken uncertainty in my own heart. And in the strange silences which followed us as we walked the corridors of Val-hall.

  Eventually, a realization hit me with the force of winter’s bone-deep chill. Fenris had asked for shelter. But in return, Óðinn had promised to spill no blood. Which meant Fenris could no longer train with the warriors.

  Óðinn hadn’t promised shelter, not in so many words. Instead, he’d created another wedge to drive between Fenris and the warriors of Asgard.

  Now, not only did the warriors refuse to train with Fenris, they refused to even speak to either one of us. If we sat at a table in the feast hall, the men and women around us would move until we were entirely alone. I looked in vain for any familiar faces, especially Týr or Freyja, but our lovers seemed to have vanished. Even the Æsir and Vanir warriors who’d collected us from the Ironwood, Thor, Bragi, and Baldr, were absent. I’d swallowed my disappointment, but I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that I was more isolated among the feasting warriors of Asgard than I had been in Fenris’s cave in the Ironwood forest.

  So, left to our own devices, Fenris and I had turned our backs on Val-hall and decided to explore the woods that loomed above Asgard’s rocky beaches. The massive moss-covered boulder Fenris had just scaled was an hour’s leisurely walk from Val-hall, and it reminded both of us of the boulder at the bend in the Lucky river where Fenris had once left me a loaf of bread with a heart carved into its thick crust.

  A branch rustled above me, followed by a shower of pebbles, fallen leaves, and uprooted moss. A moment later, Fenris slipped down the boulder and landed beside me.

  “They’re not sparring,” he said. “The practice grounds are empty.”

  “Maybe there’s a battle somewhere?” I offered, weakly.

  Fenris shook his head. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel right.”

  He reached down, and I took his hand. Fenris gently pulled me to my feet, then wrapped me in his arms.

  “Hey!” he cried.

  He pulled back, reached for my stomach, and ran his fingers over the smooth fabric of the dress Freyja had picked for me.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked.

  I followed the movement of his fingers, pressing through the dress to the skin beneath. A sudden flood of happiness surged inside me, drowning out any lingering fears over the empty practice ground, or the warriors who ignored me and Fenris as we moved through Asgard like ghosts.

  “It’s bigger,” I said.

  Fenris fell to his knees before me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He buried his face in the folds of my dress, pressing his lips to the curve of my stomach.

  “Hello in there!” he called, his words muffled by intricate folds of fabric.

  I sank my fingers into the tangles of his hair. When we were out here, together, I could almost pretend we were back in the Ironwood. Until the wind filled the woods around us with the thick scent of coal and smoke from the forges of Val-hall.

  “Hello?” A high, soft voice called from somewhere in the forest below us.

  Fenris was on his feet in an instant. Before I could speak, he’d pulled his dagger from its sheath on his belt.

  “Sol,” he whispered. “Did you recognize that?”

  I frowned. The voice was almost familiar—

  Something crashed in the woods below us, followed by a curse. “Damn it, where in Niflhel are you?” the voice called again.

  “Wait,” I whispered. “It’s a woman.”

  Fenris nodded.

  “I think—I think it’s Freyja,” I said.

  Fenris cleared his throat and very carefully sheathed his knife. “We’re here,” he called.

  “Thank the Realms!” the woman answered.

  There was another crash, followed by silence. Birds sang in the trees high above us. Insects hummed and chirped, calling to one another in their own secret languages.

  “Fuck,” the woman cursed. “Where are you, again?”

  Fenris turned to me with a grin. “Shall we go to her, my love?”

  I took his hand with a smile.

  WE FOUND FREYJA IN a small clearing several paces below the boulder. She was leaning against the trunk of a slender birch tree and panting heavily. A large twig was tangled in her dark hair, and a streak of brilliant green ran from her vibrant eyes to her temple. I decided not to point these things out.

  “Stars, I hate the woods,” Freyja huffed as we emerged from the trees.

  I raised my hand to my lips to cover my smile. Freyja ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her back, making her bodice pull tight across her chest. Her sleek dress sparked a strange warmth inside me, and I almost wanted to pull Fenris back into the woods with me and ride him until the spark could become an inferno.

  “This is
not how I wanted our second meeting to go,” Freyja said.

  Our eyes met, and my cheeks warmed under the intensity of her gaze, making the coil of arousal inside me spool even tighter. Freyja’s hands found the twig tangled in her hair, and she pulled it free with a snarl.

  “Loki is going to owe me big for this,” she growled.

  “Loki?” Fenris asked. “What does he have to do with this?”

  Freyja ran her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing the ripples of thick, plush fabric. “He’s worked it all out. Come with me.”

  She turned back toward the trees. I moved to follow her, but Fenris caught my hand.

  “Come where?” he asked.

  The sharp edge in his voice stopped me. Freyja turned back to us, her lovely features now marred with a frown. “Come with me. Like I said. Loki’s got the rest figured out.”

  Fenris rocked back on his heels. “What’s figured out?”

  Freyja’s frown deepened. “Your escape. Loki’s waiting for you by the Bifröst.”

  “Loki.” Fenris made his father’s name sound like a curse.

  “Our escape?” I asked. “Escape to where?”

  Freyja huffed. “I don’t know. The less I know, the better. But we don’t have much time. They aren’t going to be distracted for long, and it took me a stars-damned age to find you in these fucking woods.”

  Fenris pulled his hand away from mine and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Oh, come on!” Freyja snapped. “Anywhere’s better than here, you idiot!”

  Fenris said nothing. Freyja raised her hands in a flutter, as if she were shooing away a cloud of insects.

  “They mean to tie you up again,” Freyja said. “You know that, don’t you? That’s what they’ve been making all this time in the forge. A chain.”

  “I know,” Fenris growled.

  Freyja clucked her tongue. “Then you must know they don’t mean to set you free.”

  “Perhaps,” Fenris said. “Or perhaps I’m strong enough to break any chain the Æsir and Vanir can forge.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Freyja cried. “I did not spend my entire morning dragging myself through the woods to get in the middle of a pissing contest between Fenris wolf and Loki!”

  Somewhere in the distance, a raven called.

  “I’m not leaving,” Fenris said. “Tell my father his assistance is not required.”

  Freyja shook her head. “Stop it. Just, stop it. You’re not impressing anyone. Come with me, and have this conversation yourself. With Loki.”

  “No.”

  The word fell from Fenris’s lips like a stone.

  “Wait!” I cried, turning to him. “Fenris, let’s go with her. Just to talk to Loki.”

  Fenris’s expression sharpened. “We’re not going anywhere. We can’t have our baby in some frozen cave on Jötunheimr, or whatever miserable hidey hole my bastard father has in mind.”

  Freyja opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. She gave me a pointed look. Hopelessness swelled in my gut. I didn’t think we were safe on Asgard, but why would I think we could trust Loki the Lie-smith? For that matter, why would I think we could trust Freyja? Hadn’t she told me herself that beauty is armor? And she could be hiding anything in the Nine Realms beneath that beautiful armor.

  “But—” I started. “They really are forging a chain?”

  Fenris’s eyes softened, and he reached for my cheek. “Yes. Of course they are. But Loki judges the entire world by his own standards of deceit. Óðinn wants to test my strength, to determine how best I can serve Asgard.”

  Freyja gave a sharp, bitter laugh at this. Fenris ignored her.

  “I am strong enough to keep us both safe,” he finished. His hand dropped to cup the curve of my stomach, as though he were already protecting our unborn child.

  “You’re wrong,” Freyja said.

  Her words were harsh, but Freyja’s shoulders slumped, and her beautiful features sunk into what was almost despair.

  “Óðinn defeats everyone,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time. Please, come with me. Run now, while you still have a chance.”

  “No,” Fenris said. “We’re not running anywhere. We’ll raise our child on Asgard.”

  Freyja sighed with such heartbreaking desperation that, for a moment, I wanted to grab Fenris and drag him kicking and screaming after her.

  But no. He was right, after all. We couldn’t raise our child in a frozen cave. We needed Óðinn and his damned Val-hall, as uncomfortable as it might feel. Fenris would win them over, in time. He’d prove his worth, his faithfulness. Hadn’t his own mother wanted to use him on the battlefield?

  The thought of Fenris going into battle made my heart seize, but I pushed it aside. We all had to earn our keep.

  Freyja took a deep breath as though she had more to say, then pushed her lips together. She ran her fingers over her hair one final time, shook her head, and turned to go. Before she vanished beneath the shadows of the forest, she turned back to me one last time. Our eyes met, and I sensed a silent plea in her expression. As if I could change Fenris’s mind after the most beautiful woman in the Nine Realms had failed. I looked down at the broken grass and pine needles beneath my bare feet. As if there was anything I could do to change the cold, hard facts of our situation.

  “I’ll protect you,” Fenris whispered.

  His voice was so low I wasn’t sure if his words were meant for me, or for himself.

  THE MONSTER CHAINED: CHAPTER TWENTY

  When we descended from the woods to the beaten grass of the practice field, the warriors were waiting. Fenris had said the practice grounds looked abandoned, and now I could see why. Óðinn’s entire army must have been here, pressed against the fringe of the forest, just waiting for Fenris and me to appear.

  We saw their jostling bodies before we emerged from the thick woods. Late afternoon sunlight glinted off swords and spears. Their low murmurations, and the shift and press of their bodies, sounded almost like the sea. I grabbed Fenris’s arm. He met my eyes with a calm, wide smile, and I tried to swallow the tight knot of fear rising in my throat. Fenris believed in his own strength. Why should I doubt him?

  Fenris and I stepped from the shadows of the forest together, our hands intertwined. The warriors pulled back, almost as if they were afraid to touch us. Fenris stepped onto the brilliant green grass, ignoring the men surrounding us, as if this were just another afternoon walk.

  We’d gone about twenty paces when Óðinn appeared before us. He leaned heavily on an enormous spear, and a great, broad-brimmed hat wrapped his face in shadows. His lone, pale eye winked from the darkness like a malevolent star.

  “Fenris,” Óðinn said in a gratingly cheerful voice. “I have something to show you.”

  Óðinn waved his hand, and the warriors shuffled back. In the center of the practice field, half obscured by the warriors who had waited for us at the edge of the woods, stood a mountain of gleaming chain.

  I hadn’t realized there was that much metal in the world. Each link looked so big I could have stepped through it. This chain had to be at least twice the size of Leyding, the first chain they’d used to bind my husband. No wonder Val-hall had seemed so empty as the air had filled with the bitter smoke of Asgard’s forges. They must have used everyone to craft such a monstrous thing.

  Thor stood before the mountain of chain, and the gleaming metal made even him look small and insignificant. His arms were crossed over his broad chest; he looked pale and exhausted. Had they made Thor, the son of Óðinn, work the forge?

  Fenris’s grip around my hand tightened. Then Óðinn moved between us, clasping Fenris on the back, and our hands fell apart.

  “This, my boy,” Óðinn said, “is Dromi. The greatest chain in the Nine Realms.”

  “Very nice,” Fenris said.

  Slowly, as the warriors moved aside, I noticed Óðinn’s other sons standing around the chain. Baldr the Beautiful stoo
d beside his brother Hermond, looking as pale as Thor. His customary dazzling smile was strangely absent. The dark-skinned Vanir warrior Frey rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, as though he felt he may need to use it.

  There was no sign of Týr. Before I could decide if his absence was a relief or a disappointment, Óðinn continued.

  “It is very nice, isn’t it?” The All-father’s upbeat tone seemed oblivious to the grim expressions on the Æsir and Vanir’s faces. “And it’s quite strong. Even Thor needs help lifting a single link of this chain.”

  Fenris frowned at the chain, then turned to face Óðinn. “You’re testing me.”

  Óðinn’s lone, pale eye gleamed beneath the shadows of his hat. “If you like.”

  Slowly, Fenris began to walk toward the dark links of the chain. Thor silently stepped out of his way, and Fenris ran his hands over the metal. It looked fierce and cold.

  “Dromi,” Fenris repeated.

  “If you break this one,” Óðinn said, “your fame will spread throughout the Nine Realms. Every man, woman, and child will know of your strength. They will know that no metal forged in these Nine Realms can hold the Fenris-wolf.”

  Fenris’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. His hands still cupped the massive links of Dromi, almost tenderly, the way you might caress a lover.

  “And if I don’t break them?” he said so softly it was almost a whisper.

  Óðinn laughed. “Was fame ever achieved without risk, little Fenris?”

  Fenris pulled his hands from the chain. He straightened his back, sighed, and turned to face us.

  “It is a strong chain,” Fenris said. “But, I’m stronger.”

  A murmur spread through the crowd. Behind my husband, Thor’s face twisted as if he were struggling not to speak.