Betraying Destiny (The Omega Prophecy Book 3)

by Nora Ash

  Thirteen. Thirteen, and his stepmom had let him…

  “You stayed? What… How did that go? Did you all just pretend like it never happened?”

  “Bjarni and Saga did,” he said, eyes finally flicking down, though he still avoided my gaze. “To them, it didn’t matter. It happened during my first rut, and their mother told them she was fine. It was just an unfortunate event no one was responsible for. I think they’ve genuinely mostly forgotten.”

  “And with their mom?” I asked. “Were things… different?”

  He paused, his throat bobbing once as if he was trying to hold the words back. But the magic in our oath forced him. “Yes. They were... different. The next week, she found me in the woods. She told me she wanted a child with the same magic that runs in my veins. It took me a moment to understand what she expected of me. My rut was over, and I informed her of how I’d rather fuck a mountain troll. She didn’t take that too kindly.

  “So she told me that if I didn’t give her a child, she would make sure I never saw Bjarni and Saga again. She would poison their minds against me, and I would be returned to Niflheim.”

  He breathed in, pushing off the tree trunk to roll his shoulders. “I never did give her a child. Stars be thanked she didn’t conceive during my first rut, or that time in the woods, and I made sure to put a mixture of belladonna and mandrake in her food every night after. It didn’t stop her from trying until I finally persuaded my brothers to leave.”

  “Grim…” I’d had it so wrong. So, so wrong. He hadn’t assaulted her. She had used his love for his brothers to make him submit against his will.

  Thirteen. I didn’t care if he’d been an alpha at the time, or the son of a god. He’d still been a child.

  He finally looked at me, but there was nothing but cold indifference in his mismatched eyes. “Does your heart bleed for me, little omega?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, ignoring the sting of his sarcasm. “Bjarni and Saga—they don’t know, do they?”

  “Of course not,” he sneered. “They love the woman.”

  And he would do anything to protect them, even from the horrible truth of their own mother.

  I remembered how he’d stiffened at the prospect of stopping by her cabin, and how he had been reluctant to force a mating with me, going so far as to stop his brothers from taking me that first night in Iceland when my heat was about to break. I’d come to assume it was because he found the idea of bedding me repulsive, and I was sure that was at least part of the reason, but… perhaps there had been just an inkling of pity from a man who knew what it was like to be made to surrender his body.

  “If you told Bjarni and Saga, they would believe you,” I said softly. “And they would be on your side.”

  He scoffed. “Please. Unpleasant as it may have been, it was just sex—and it was a very, very long time ago. If I wanted them to know, I would have told them centuries past. Now, are you quite done—or are there still some deep, dark secrets you wish to pry from me?”

  I had made my bargain in the hopes of finding a way to understand this dark alpha. And now… I did. He may keep an indifferent façade, but I wasn’t fooled. Not anymore. Mistborn or no, any man with his upbringing would have encased his heart in ice to get through it alive. But behind it… just maybe… there was still a fragment of a soul.

  “Yeah. I’m done. For now.”

  Hopefully by the time I had my two other truths, I would find a way through his defenses.

  Six

  Modi

  There was no trace of the Mistborn within Valhalla’s walls, nor had anyone seen him or Anna. Not that the gods, servants, and Valkyries we’d asked had much mind for anything but the chaos left in the wake of Loki’s escape.

  “I think we have to consider that whoever took Annabel might have taken your brother as well.” Magni looked at Saga and Bjarni. “We are wasting our time here. I understand that he will be her fifth mate, but without Annabel, there is no point in looking for him. There is no point in anything.”

  Saga only nodded. He was leaning against a wall in one of Valhalla’s many internal courtyards, eyes closed and face pale. I didn’t envy either of the Lokissons. I knew every one of us felt our mate’s loss so deep into our souls that there wasn’t room for anything else. If Magni had been missing, I wouldn’t have had the capability to care, and the guilt of it would have eaten up whatever shreds were left of me without Anna.

  “We have searched everywhere and found no trace of her,” Bjarni said, despair thick in his throat. “Where do we go next?”

  “Trud was searching for Mimir and Freya, was she not?” I said. The faintest thread of hope sparked somewhere behind the thick fog of misery. My sister. She was the cleverest person I knew. “She might have found something that will set us on the right path, either to our mate or the prophet. Or perhaps she will be able to scry for her.”

  Magni lit up. “Trud! Of course. She will know what to do.”

  “Your sister is a völve?” Saga asked.

  “Yes, and a powerful one at that.” I clasped a hand on his shoulder, willing some of my own buoying hope into him. “Have faith. Trud will send us down the right path, brother. We will see our Annabel soon.”

  Trudheim’s spire rose toward the sky as proudly as ever, but my usual sense of homecoming at the sight of it was gone. Annabel was my home now, and she was missing. I didn’t greet the servants scurrying about the courtyard as I normally would have, my sense of purpose blotting out any capability of manners.

  Inside, my childhood home was as frantic with life as outside. Servants bustled around, most carrying armor and food, and the informal dining table I’d eaten most of my meals at as a young lad was laden with a mixture of platters, leather, and metal.

  At its head, my father was on his feet, barking orders and rummaging through weaponry. He looked up at our entry, eyes narrowing at Bjarni and Saga for a long moment before he turned to point a finger at me.

  “It is not on your head that the Traitor fled his punishment—you brought him back like I knew you would. But if you bring his spawn into my home, you’d better be ready to wager your own neck that their allegiance won’t waver while we cut down their father.”

  He thought we had come to join him in battle—to fight alongside him as he hunted for Loki—like the obedient sons he had raised us to be. For glory and honor.

  The band on my bicep seemed to constrict tightly around my muscles as I remembered that desperate moment in Midgard when I had called for him and he had not come.

  “Loki is not the Betrayer. He saved my life. Without him, we never would have been able to defeat Níðhöggr. He could have run then, but he did not. If he were the Betrayer, I would be dead.”

  My father’s eyes widened—and then his face broke into a huge grin. “You defeated Níðhöggr? Ha! That’s my son!” He turned to the nearest servant and slapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending the poor man to his knees. “You hear that, Gorm? My son slew Níðhöggr! A chip off the old block, that one.”

  There was a time his boasting would have filled me with pride. Now I felt nothing but emptiness.

  “No, Father. Bjarni, Annabel, Loki, and I slew Níðhöggr, and we very nearly did not make it back. I called for you. Why did you leave me there?”

  My father frowned, his smile fading. Gorm had the good sense to scurry out of the kitchen, bringing along the other servants. Everyone in Trudheim had learned to anticipate one of Thor’s infamous explosions.

  “What do you mean you called for me?” my father asked, his voice clipped. “Are you suggesting I’d turn my back on my own son? In front of them?” He indicated Bjarni and Saga with a tilt of his chin.

  “I am making no suggestions. I am merely asking why, when I captured Loki like you commanded and was stranded in Midgard with Magni’s life on the line, did you dismiss the connection I forged through the band?”

  I tapped my bicep to indicate the band hidden there, the one he had gifted me so that I might
always reach him—except, as it turned out, when I needed him most.

  A look of confusion passed over his face, deepening his scowl. “I have no idea what you’re on about, son. I received no communication from you while you were in Midgard.”

  I clenched my jaw as Bjarni’s and Annabel’s speculations about him echoed in my head. There was no way he was the Betrayer. No way he could be. I had known that in the marrow of my bones, and I had defended him fiercely.

  And yet… And yet I knew that I had used the band to contact him—and that it had connected.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Magni interjected. “We’re here for Trud. Finding our mate is more important than this discussion.”

  “You are right. Our mate is infinitely more important than a man whose honor is more valuable to him than his own blood, and certainly more important than fighting an unwinnable battle.”

  I turned to the stairs, intent on locating my sister, but before I could take more than two steps, Thor closed his hand around my arm.

  “What do you mean our mate?” he growled. I was surprised he’d picked up on that tidbit in the midst of my other insult.

  “I mean that Magni’s mate is mine as well,” I bit. My muscles twitched as instincts otherwise buried in sorrow reared up, ready to defend my woman. “I found my soul in Midgard—in her. I found two new brethren in her other mates. I found my purpose—my true purpose—and it is not to stand by your side as Ragnarök swallows all nine worlds.

  “But she is missing, and I do not have time to argue with you, Father. I hope to see you on the other side of this madness, but if I do not, may your death be honorable.”

  I pulled free of his grasp before he had a chance to respond and headed up the stairs with the others behind me.

  We found Trud in her room. She was perched on a chair facing the window, but instead of taking in the pretty views surrounding our home, she was staring intently at the pages of a large, worn book.

  She jerked her head up at our entry, and I halfway expected her to scold us for not knocking like she had so many times when we were kids, but she just expelled a deep breath, relief crossing her face.

  “You’re here. Things have been… difficult while you were gone.”

  “Things are difficult now,” I said.

  A vague smile pulled at the corners of her lips, but as she swept her gaze over our group and our worn expressions, it withered. “Where is my sister-in-law?”

  I grimaced at the pang from the hollow in my chest. “She is gone, Trud. We need your help.”

  My sister stood so abruptly the book in her lap flopped to the floor. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

  “Someone took her,” Magni said, his voice raspy and pained. “We woke up, and she was… gone.” He pressed a fist to his chest, against the hole. “It feels like she is dead, but we are still here, still alive, so she can’t be. Right?”

  Trud’s face turned ashen. “Annabel is gone? No. No, she can’t be. You would be dead too.” She swept her blue gaze over us, as if ensuring we weren’t ghosts returned from Hel to haunt her. “What do you mean, it feels like she is dead?”

  I breathed through another painful flare and stepped toward my sister. “It will be easier if you…”

  She nodded and placed a hand against my chest. I felt the jolt of connection, reminding me of how it had felt to blend my magic with Annabel’s, but where my mate had brought elation and warmth, Trud’s magic was paltry by comparison.

  The second her power touched where my hollow bond rooted, she gasped and jerked back, severing the connection between us.

  “Stars above, Modi,” she whispered.

  “Can you find her?” I asked through gritted teeth, because I knew if I accepted the empathy radiating off my sister, I would break.

  She hesitated for a moment, and Magni, croaked, “Trud. Tell us you can find her.”

  “I think… I think she is where Freya and Mimir are,” she said quietly. There was regret in her voice now. “I have been scrying endlessly for the goddess and the prophet, and they are… somewhere dark. And lonely. So lonely. That touch of Annabel’s essence still within you… it feels the same.”

  “Where are they, then?” Saga asked, impatience coloring each word. “Tell us where our mate is and we will retrieve her.”

  “I am not sure.” Trud looked to the floor where her book lay. “It makes no sense.”

  “Woman, I don’t care if it makes sense or not. All I care about—all any of us care about—is that you tell us where Annabel is,” Bjarni rumbled, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice.

  “Hel,” she said softly, sending a shudder of icy horror through each and every one of us. “I think… I think they are in Hel. But it makes no sense; the Queen of Death bows to no one. Why would she agree to hold them captive? She is beyond our petty squabbles, beyond any power held by any other god. And Annabel… Annabel is mortal. If she were truly there, you would all be in Hel too. No human can cross the barrier without succumbing.”

  “And… And if she weren’t… entirely mortal?” Bjarni asked.

  “What do you mean?” Magni demanded.

  “If she… ate one of Idunn’s apples. Would she be capable of entering Hel without dying?” the blond Jotunn asked.

  Idunn’s apples! I remembered the golden fruit he had casually fed our cranky mate as we passed over Bifrost.

  “Bjarni Lokisson, you magnificent god among gods!” I blurted as I jerked back around to Trud. “Would that explain it? Is that why she is still alive? She is in Hel—but immortal?”

  Trud frowned, her lips pursing. “I… I don’t know. Perhaps? I have never heard of such a thing—a mortal eating one of Idunn’s apples. And it does not explain why Hel would agree to imprison the goddess and the prophet. Nor does it bring back your mate. If she is truly in Hel, then I do not know how to retrieve her.”

  “Then who does?” Saga demanded. “I don’t care if we have to burn Hel to the ground to get her back. I don’t care if we have to give our own lives. If that is where our mate is, then that is where we will go.”

  Trud hesitated. “You don’t understand. If someone has made a bargain with Hel—”

  “It does not matter,” I interrupted her. “I do not care if it is Loki. I do not care if it is our own father. Nothing matters until Annabel is returned to us. If you know of someone who can help us, please, sister. Tell us.”

  She shook her head slowly before she looked at me—at all of us. “I know of one creature who might be capable of untangling the thread of an undead mortal stuck in the void between Fate and Death. Seek out the Norn Verdandi and plead for her aid. In the meantime, I will track down whoever is behind this. Few would have the power to negotiate with Hel herself. In banishing your mate, they may just have given us the clue we need to bring him into the open.”

  Seven

  Annabel

  We walked for more than a week. At least, I thought it was more than a week. Time didn’t feel like it worked right in Hel, and I was so chronically exhausted from healing Grim it was hard to keep my bearings.

  Thankfully we didn’t come across any more undead trolls, or other nightmarish creatures looking to impregnate and/or murder me. I hadn’t had the stomach to ask which option the troll had most likely been after.

  I also hadn’t asked Grim for any more truths.

  He was as cold and indifferent toward me as ever, but I… I was less so. Still angry that he goddamn murdered me, obviously, but it was becoming clear he had some twisted idea that this was the only way he could protect his brothers. And after what he’d shared, it was obvious that he would do anything for them.

  At least we had that in common.

  I glanced at my dark companion as he strode a few steps ahead of me, scanning our surroundings for any hint of danger. I felt a tiny bit guilty for having forced him to share such private and painful details of his past, but in this case, I’d made my peace with the ends justifying the means. And I knew I would have to burr
ow deeper if I wanted any chance of making him understand how wrong he was for believing Ragnarök was the only way this could end.

  “Hrm-hmm.”

  Mimir cleared his throat, and I glanced down at his head beneath my left arm. The bodiless man arched his bushy eyebrows at me before casting a meaningful look at Grim’s back. “We are getting close, plum,” he whispered. “Time to lose the broody one.”

  I frowned and cast a quick look at Grim to ensure he hadn’t heard Mimir. Judging from his long strides, he wasn’t paying attention to either of us.

  “What do you mean? I can’t exactly leave Hel without him.”

  Mimir huffed. “You’ll have to. He won’t let you escape this place so long as his allegiance is twisted.”

  “It’s your prophecy,” I reminded him. “It’s supposed to be five gods’ sons, not four. Grim’s my fifth.”

  “He’ll have to join up once we return to the world of the living. Much can be done to change a man’s loyalty, but you will not be able to stop Ragnarök while you’re trapped in Hel. Come morning, you will have to leave him behind.” Mimir gave me a meaningful look.

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” I asked. “He’s so much stronger than me, and I’m… not in peak condition.”

  Which was putting it mildly. All I wanted to do was sleep, but every morning I woke as exhausted as I’d been when consciousness left me the night before. Sleep wasn’t going to fix this—only one thing would. I’d drained my energy too much when I healed Grim, and courtesy of my omega nature, the only way of recovering was to let an alpha restore my reserves. With his dick. Because of course.

  Unfortunately, the only available alpha was not exactly in the mood to offer his services, and frankly, I’d rather collapse from exhaustion than ask Grim for the magical equivalent of a pity fuck.

  “Leave that to me, plum. Just make sure you go to sleep close by me tonight, and be ready to run once I wake you.”