“What did Týr want?” Óðinn asked.
“Oh, he wanted a quick fuck before he bled to death!” Freyja spat.
Óðinn sighed. His boots scraped across the floor as he stretched his feet. I pressed myself against the far leg of Freyja’s table to avoid touching him.
“What did he say?” Óðinn’s voice was calm and cold.
Freyja huffed. “Well, between the screaming and the moaning, he didn’t exactly say much.”
Silence. Freyja’s feet shifted across the floor, then came to rest next to Óðinn’s chair.
“What happened to him?” she asked, this time in a much softer voice. “Where were you?”
Óðinn pulled back his feet, and his hand thudded across the tabletop. I flinched at the noise.
“I was doing my stars-damned job,” Óðinn said. “Keeping this fucking Realm safe. Keeping all of you insolent little shits protected.”
Freyja’s feet scuffed against the stone as she backed up. “And here, for just a moment, I thought you were trying to get back in my good graces.”
Óðinn’s chair squealed against the floor as he shoved away from the table. “Why was Týr here? Just tell me, Freyja.”
Freyja sighed. My chest tightened. Stars, please. No.
“I think it was a mistake.” Freyja sounded utterly defeated. “You know he’s shit when it comes to controlling the Bifröst, even if he’s not missing body parts. I think he just crashed here.”
Óðinn stood. I watched a clump of dried mud fall from the heel of his boot to shatter on Freyja’s floor.
“He didn’t say anything?”
“He wouldn’t even tell me what had happened.” Freyja’s voice was high and tight now; it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
“Fine,” Óðinn sighed. “You sent him away?”
“I sent him to Val-hall. But, damn it, you should probably check on him. I don’t know if he even made it to the mead.”
Óðinn’s boots stomped away from the table, and I dared to breathe again. The door hummed as it opened.
“Óðinn?” Freyja asked.
Óðinn snorted in acknowledgement.
“What happened?”
“Ah, Freyja.” There was a silence, then a wet sort of sucking noise. I shuddered. Stars, had she just kissed Óðinn?
“Don’t worry about it,” Óðinn said. His voice sounded thicker and deeper. “It’s over.”
There was another thick, slurping kiss before the door closed with a soft smack. The room fell silent. I forced myself to count to thirty before I shifted forward on my hands and knees and lifted a corner of the red cloth.
Freyja leaned against her door, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a strange, almost pained expression which vanished as soon as she saw me.
“Well, that’s that,” she said. “Come on out.”
Hesitantly, I crawled from beneath the table, pulled myself to my feet, and wrapped my arms around my shivering, wet chest.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
Her brow wrinkled. “Do what?”
“Why did you ask Óðinn what happened? You know what happened.”
Her composed, serene expression faltered, but only for a moment.
“Óðinn and I have a very complicated relationship. I suppose...” Her voice drifted off, and she stared at the translucent pane of her front door as if she could still see Óðinn standing on the other side.
“It’s what he expected me to say,” she finally said. “And maybe I hoped he’d do the right thing.”
Her face contorted into a frown, then smoothed into her typical smile. Armor, I thought.
“Anyway,” she said breezily. “He’ll be watching the house for a couple of days.”
My heart jolted against my breastbone. “A couple of days? But, Fenris—”
“Hush.” Freyja’s smile widened, and her eyes danced. “There’s a back door, darling.”
THE MONSTER FREED: CHAPTER TWO
Freyja’s back door was, appropriately enough, hidden behind one of the three carved wardrobes in her bedroom. She pulled me through the doorway, and I shivered at a sudden blast of cool air. Moonlight cast long shadows across the grass in front of us. We stood together before Val-hall’s long, curving porch. The row of windows glinted in the darkness like eyes; I had to swallow my yip of fear.
Freyja walked onto the porch and pulled a door open. “Just past here.”
The room beyond the doorway was as black as the surface of Lake Amsvartnir. My body contorted with shivers as the night air cut through the wet fabric of my dress, ripping warmth from my body. The darkness of the sea cell loomed in my memory; for a moment, I imagined I was back in King Nøkkyn’s castle, that the door Freyja held open for me was actually the square grate of Nøkkyn’s prison, and that everything that had happened since then had been a sort of fever dream.
“Get in here before somebody sees you!” Freyja snapped.
She grabbed my arm and pulled me across the threshold, then fumbled in the darkness. A moment later, a candle flared to life. It lit Freyja’s face from below with a soft golden light, making her look strangely vulnerable. For the first time, it occurred to me that Freyja had been a child, once. She’d grown up here, among these strange people, with magical doorways and rainbow bridges to other worlds.
No wonder she’d developed armor.
Freyja bent to touch the candle to the wood piled on the hearth, and the glow of firelight surged through to corners of the small room. I saw a bed, piled high with lush, rich fabric, and a table topped with a mirror. Other than that, the narrow room was empty. A dark curtain lay heavily across the window, and I noticed a heavy latch over the door.
“W-what is this place?” I asked through chattering teeth.
Freyja sighed. “Just a room,” she said.
She spun me around before I could ask anything further, and I felt the warmth of her hands press against the laces on the back of my dress.
“You’re soaked,” she said, “and you’ve got to be freezing. Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
“I-I’m fine,” I said, as shivers wracked my body.
Then I hid my hands in my face and began to sob.
I was only dimly aware of Freyja pulling off my wet dress, or leading me gently to the bed. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see were the gleaming lines of Gleipnir as the wretched thing sizzled against my husband’s body. The way it burned and flashed, like a living being.
Freyja wrapped blankets around me, then pulled me into her arms. Hidden beneath a mountain of fur and silk and rocked by her embrace, I sobbed myself into the oblivion of sleep.
“SOL?”
The voice tugged at the edge of my consciousness, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to wake. Something vast and terrible loomed on the edge of wakefulness, waiting for me.
“Sol? We’d better go.”
Bright light pressed against my eyelids. I rolled away, but it was too late. A flood of memories rushed back, shattering my rest. Fenris standing on the island. Gleipnir searing his skin with its wicked light. And Týr, with his hand inside Fenris’s mouth.
“Do it,” Týr had said.
My eyes snapped open. Thick sunlight fell across the heavy blankets piled over my body. I pushed them aside and rubbed my eyes at the light pouring through the window. A woman stood at that window, her gentle curves bathed in the light.
“Freyja?” I murmured sleepily. “How long have you been here?”
“Óðinn’s asleep,” she said, ignoring my question. “But the stars only know for how long. We’ve got to move now.”
“How—” I began, then immediately thought better of my question. Óðinn’s deeper, thicker voice echoed through my mind, the way he’d sounded after he’d kissed Freyja. Twice. I could guess how Freyja knew Óðinn was asleep.
I kicked my feet out from under the blankets and stood. The room swirled around me, but Freyja gripped my arm and the dizziness passed. Before I had time
to take a breath, she pushed me into a light blue dress and knotted the laces in the back.
By the time I thought to ask where we were going, Freyja and I were halfway toward the beach. The sounds of the warriors practicing behind us rose through the salt-tinged air. Freyja’s grip on my hand tightened.
“If anyone asks,” she said under her breath, “you’re my servant, and we’re going for a lovely walk along the seashore.”
She pulled me toward the water so quickly my feet stumbled. Once we reached the line of blackened seaweed and gnarled driftwood that marked the farthest reaches of the waves, we turned abruptly and began to trudge along the shore.
We walked in silence for what felt like a very long time. The sun was already high in the brilliant cerulean sky, and my gut rumbled in protest. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, where the blue fabric of Freyja’s dress pulled tight, and promised the babe inside I’d feed him or her as soon as possible.
Just when my legs were burning and my bare feet throbbed against the stones, when I thought I’d have to tell Freyja I couldn’t possibly go any further, she pulled me up short. There, sheltered between two low hills, was a small, white cottage surrounded by rose bushes. Even from this distance, the subtle sweetness of their blossoms drifted through the air.
“Is this yours, too?” I whispered.
Freyja snorted a laugh. “Fuck, no. I’d never live in the middle of nowhere like this.”
With that, she stepped forward, leaving me to scramble behind her. We’d gone perhaps a dozen steps when a tall, black-clad figure stepped out from the dunes in front of us. I bit down my scream; I could have sworn those dunes were empty, and he’d just materialized before us.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, with a welcoming sweep of his hands.
I stared openly. The man standing in front of us was young, with pale skin, long, dark hair, and sparkling chestnut eyes. And, stars, he looked familiar. His high cheekbones and full lips reminded me of Fenris so strongly my chest ached.
Yet there was something odd about him, too. I watched as he smiled at Freyja, who bowed slightly, and then turned toward me. I knew the way men looked at me. Ever since my breasts began to press at the fabric of my dress, I’d noticed how men’s gazes faltered and staggered, as though caught by the gravity of my chest, before they returned to my face. But this man’s eyes drifted over both of us as though we were just another part of the beach.
“Nari,” Freyja said warmly. “We’re here to see your father. Is he in?”
The left side of the man’s mouth curled in a lopsided grin. “I think they started without you.”
Freyja laughed, but her reply was interrupted by a clatter of stones from behind us. I jumped to see another young man, taller and broader in the shoulders, jogging along the rocky beach toward us. A sword hung around his waist. His muscular chest was bare, and it gleamed with sweat.
“Freyja!” he called, raising a hand.
Freyja inhaled sharply with what I strongly suspected was appreciation. I glanced at the man standing in front of us, Nari, to gauge his reaction, but his eyes were still strangely vacant. I wondered if he were blind.
After a few more clattering strides across the stones, the shirtless man stood next to us, grinning and panting. My own breath caught in my throat. He wasn’t quite as tall as Fenris, and he had a broader, thicker chest, but his face had the same soft lips and wide grin. He could have been my husband’s twin.
“Hello, Freyja,” he panted.
His golden eyes drifted over my face and dropped straight to my chest. Then he caught himself, blushed slightly, and met my gaze.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said. “I’m Vali.”
“Sol,” I said, weakly.
“They’re here for father,” Nari said.
Vali glanced at Nari, and his grin broadened. “Is my brother bothering you two lovely ladies?”
“Not at all—” Freyja began.
But her words were cut off by the thick rasp of metal against leather. A heartbeat later, Vali’s sword left the sheath on his hip and flashed in the sunlight. The gleaming metal cut through the air, curving straight into his brother’s chest. I screamed.
The sword passed through Nari as though he were made of mist, or smoke. A flicker of annoyance danced over Nari’s pale, handsome face.
“Really?” he said, arching an eyebrow at Vali.
Vali shook his head as he resheathed his sword. “You still don’t have it. It’s the eyes.”
Nari vanished. I jumped backward, colliding with Vali’s bare chest.
“Damn it!” someone cried from the dunes behind us.
I turned around to see a black-clad figure climbing out from behind a thick clump of beach grass. Nari, I realized. He wore the same dark outfit, but his left side was now covered with sand.
“You don’t have to do that stupid sword thing every fucking time,” Nari grumbled as he walked toward us with a scowl. “It’s so juvenile.”
Vali snorted with what I guessed was a suppressed laugh. Nari ignored him and turned to Freyja. He was shorter than his illusion, and his dark outfit was significantly more disheveled.
“Freyja? What did you think?” Nari asked.
“Most impressive,” she said. “Now, we’ve come to see your father—”
“The eyes, though,” Vali interrupted. “Freyja, Sol, be honest with the poor guy. He’s been working on this one for months.”
Freyja pressed her lips together, and a thin line appeared between her eyebrows.
“It was really...nice,” I stammered.
Vali crossed his arms over his impressive bare chest. “Really? Nothing the slightest bit off?”
“I thought maybe you were blind,” I offered.
Vali laughed again at that, and Nari’s face knotted in frustration.
“Fuck!” Nari spat. “How does the old man do it?”
“Ask him,” Vali offered. “Just...not now.”
Nari sighed heavily, and my heart went out to him. I was about to tell him the illusion really had surprised me when a woman’s scream filled the air between us. I gasped and grabbed for Freyja’s hand.
“Like I said,” Nari sighed. “They got started without you.”
“Hours ago,” Vali added.
The woman screamed again, long and high, the kind of scream that ended with a moan of animal pleasure. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I knew that particular scream; I’d made that noise myself, over and over, with a man who looked quite a bit like the brothers standing in front of me.
“He was gone for a couple of weeks,” Nari said, sounding both bored and slightly embarrassed. “You know how they are.”
“Like a pair of fucking rabbits,” Vali agreed, cheerfully. “They’re even worse than Nari and Arym.”
“I swear to the Realms, Vali,” Nari growled, “tomorrow morning you’re going to wake up in stars-damned Múspell. Your bed, your entire room. Everything!”
Nari’s eyes sparkled as he spoke; his threat had the feeling of a well-worn and oft-repeated line.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Freyja said. Her grip on my hand tightened, and she pulled me forward. “I think we’ll have to interrupt.”
“I doubt they’ll mind,” Vali said.
Nari’s brow knotted in concentration, and he fell silent. For a moment he looked so much like Fenris that it hurt to watch. He closed his eyes.
Another figure blinked into existence just beside Freyja. She jumped. It was the illusion Nari, the taller version who didn’t have sand clinging to the side of his rumbled shirt.
“Nope,” Vali said. “The eyes are all fucked up again. And why do you make yourself taller? It’s a dead giveaway. Everyone knows you’re not as tall as me.”
“Shut up,” Nari growled as the illusion smiled blandly. His hands flexed, his fingers opening and closing. “What about now?”
Freyja pulled me past Nari. I turned around to see Vali standing beside his brother, frowning at the il
lusion.
“The eyes are a little better,” Vali said. “But he’s still not really focusing on anything.”
“Come on,” Freyja whispered.
Together we walked toward the cottage, where the woman’s voice was rising again in sharp, staccato bursts of pleasure. A coil of heat tightened inside me as we approached the house. A man’s voice pulsed through the air, accompanying the woman’s, groaning and panting. I was suddenly very aware of the heat of Freyja’s palm against mine, the pull of the lush fabric across my nipples, and the aching throb of my sex. Fenris made me cry that way. Fenris made me—
“Oh, yes!” the woman inside the cottage cried. “Oh, fuck me, Loki!”
Loki? The burn of my arousal vanished. I felt like I’d just been plunged back into the icy depths of Lake Amsvartnir.
But of course it was Loki; I could have smacked myself for my stupidity. The two brothers on the beach, Vali and Nari, who had looked so much like Fenris. Because they shared a sire: Loki the Lie-smith.
A man’s harsh cry shot through the air, shattering my thoughts. It was a victorious, satisfied bark, the kind of yell Fenris made as he shot his seed inside me after fucking me hard, making me writhe in pleasure and cry out for him again and again.
“Finally,” Freyja muttered.
She raised her hand and rapped on the door of the cottage. “Loki!” she called. “It’s important!”
I heard the soft murmur of conversation drift through the cottage’s open windows, followed by an unmistakable giggle. The cottage’s neat little door swung open. Fenris’s father Loki stood in the doorway, completely naked, his body slick with sweat, his damp hair matted against his neck and shoulders. He grinned at Freyja with an almost predatory expression.
But his face changed when he saw me. The light fell from his eyes, and his smile vanished. Without speaking, he pulled the door wide open. I let Freyja drag me across the threshold and into a warm room that smelled of sex and rising bread.
The Complete Fenris Series Page 51
