Hela Takes a Holiday

by Rebekah Lewis

  Hela blinked and opened her mouth several times but couldn't seem to find the words. There was something to this theory, but she didn't seem to want to tell him the truth. He narrowed his eyes. Mayhap she remembered more than she let on. Mayhap she wasn't a Dane intent to murder them all, for she'd had several chances already. She was hiding something though, but what?

  "That is why you feared marriage," she said, breaking the silence between them. "Because you fear losing another loved one."

  Oh, nay. She would not evade his inquiries now. "I'll answer your questions, if you answer mine." He pulled her into his lap, regretting that decision immediately, as her crisp, wintery scent made his blood hot beneath his skin, and she was sure to notice his reaction if she squirmed at all. He didn't want to let her escape his questioning until he was satisfied with the outcome.

  Hela turned and looked about as though seeking some interference, but finally, with a heaving sigh, she lowered her head in defeat. "I did hide my past from you, but not for ominous reasons, I swear. I thought…" she trailed off. "You would never understand. You would have different opinions about me if you knew. If you believed."

  Interesting turn of phrase. He cocked his head to the side and searched her face for some answer that eluded him but must exist. She was actively avoiding his gaze. She clasped her hands together in her lap, wringing them. He'd noticed she fidgeted with her hands a lot, and figured it was a nervous habit. Mayhap it had to do with stress over her secret being discovered.

  "I am not from here," Hela said the last word pointedly.

  "So," he responded as he tried to understand what she meant. "You are from Denmark?" They were already married. She had his protection if she feared someone in the village would object to their union.

  "Midgard." She gritted her teeth and finally met his gaze. "I do not live on this world."

  Björn blinked. She really had him on edge for a moment, and he respected her talent for such a believable jest. Hela had been so sincere that he almost wanted to take her at her word, but it couldn't be true. He laughed, expecting her to laugh with him, but she didn't. Her face was expressionless and paler than he'd ever seen it. "You are…serious?"

  She nodded once. "I live in Niflheim. I am Hela," her voice cracked as it grew smaller and shaky. "The goddess of death."

  This was going too far. Björn set her on her feet and stood up. She was tall enough to meet his gaze at nearly eye level. "The goddess is a giantess." Hela shook her head as he continued, "And if the gods cared at all, why have they not shown themselves before in Iskygge?" What sort of fool did she take him as?

  "The logs, the nisse, the snow." She lifted her hands into the air. "How many more signs do you need before you believe it? I am not a giantess, but my mother was. Sometimes your people get our stories wrong." She crossed her arms. Her temper was rising to meet his, but he didn't appreciate being made into a fool.

  "Nisse are an old superstition, and the Yule log is a fluke. The snow…I will admit those occurrences were odd, but there has to be an explanation for—"

  "My father did it. He also accidently killed your Christian priest by appearing to the man who mistook him for a devil." She winced. "I apologize on his behalf."

  This whole conversation grew more absurd by the minute. "You're saying Loki killed our priest?" He could barely say it without laughing. The stories of that god fit the accusation, but why would Hela have come up with such a story. She hadn't had anything to do with the man's death. "Why would he want to do that?"

  "My father decided I should not be subjected to a Christian wedding."

  Hela still hadn't smiled or given up the jest. But—she couldn't possibly be telling the truth. If the gods existed, why had they allowed so many Norsemen to convert without interfering? Without showing themselves?"

  A loud clatter sounded behind him, and Björn whirled toward the table. The empty goblet had fallen to the floor, but neither of them had been close enough to the table itself to knock it over. Frowning, he started to bend to retrieve it when—he saw him.

  A small man, the size of one of Björn's fingers, stood on the edge of the table shaking a fist at him and began shouting something in a language he didn't quite understand. He had a long, white beard and a red, pointed hat. His trousers were equally red under a green tunic.

  "Is that…?" he stammered, staring.

  "A nisse?" Hela snorted and placed her hands on her hips as though daring him to deny what was right before his eyes. "Aye. And you offended him by calling him a superstition." She paused as the little man yelled some more, making rude gestures toward Björn. "And you called him old."

  Björn looked from her to the nisse and back. He leaned over and stared at the man again. His long white beard matched what could be seen of his hair under the hat. He had a chubby face riddled with wrinkles and signs of age. Björn stood back up and glared at Hela. "Well, of course I did. He is ancient!"

  The second goblet, the one he'd drained of water earlier, hit him in the side of the temple with the force of a full man's fist. Bursts of light flashed into his vision and Hela had to catch him before he fell. He lifted a hand to his face and stared, incredulous, at the little nisse. How was it that strong? How!

  There were two possibilities. The most rational being that he was asleep and this was all a dream. He'd wake up in the morning, and they'd laugh about it. The other was…he'd married the goddess of death, and a household nisse had just thrown a goblet at him for calling him ancient to his face.

  His head hurt too badly for the first possibility to be the true one. Björn sat down hard in the chair again and put his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. How was a man to react to this information?

  Hela kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his right thigh. The muscles there twitched under her touch. He longed to feel more of it, yet he was overwhelmed. How could a mortal like him ever satisfy a goddess? Why was she even there on…Midgard?

  "Björn, I did not tell you because it was unfair to burden you with my truth. Since I likely will not be here long, I did not intend—"

  His head shot upright, and he was unsure he heard her right. "You are not staying?" It was a dumb question since, if she was the goddess of the dead, she'd have to return sometime. His frustration and irritation melted away and suddenly he was that little boy again, losing someone he'd only had limited time with. "But you married me." Why would she go through with such a thing if she knew she would leave?

  She glanced away, shame pulling her expression taut.

  "Loki wanted a Norse wedding, and that is what you had," Björn pointed out, needing an explanation. "Why will you leave?"

  "I do not want to."

  "Then stay." Out of the corner of his eye, the nisse looked back and forth between them as though he found great amusement from their conversation. It was unnerving seeing him there. "I apologize for insulting you," he told the nisse. "You have never shown yourself to me. I did not know what to believe."

  The nisse seemed to contemplate this answer, then smiled and shrugged. It turned to Hela and said something before it snapped its fingers and vanished as though it had never been there.

  Disturbing.

  "He said he accepts, and he apologized for his brethren failing to keep their chores on task since my arrival—and for stealing our mead earlier." Björn's eyes widened. He knew he'd asked for mead. "They were not sure if I was a threat or not, and they hid themselves to prepare to protect their land."

  That was more enduring, he supposed. "Did they build the wall of snow around the village and farms?"

  She shook her head. "Loki. I think he was trying to keep you away because of the terms of my visit." She explained her twelve-day limit and how if she didn't fall in love, or find someone she thought she could come to love, she had to go home whether she wanted to or not.

  "You think you could love me?" he asked, then added, "I mean, you married me, so you must…aye?" It would be wrong to ask her to feel that w
ay when he'd done everything possible to avoid their being together. If his father hadn't been pressuring him to marry, would he have acted differently?

  Aye. Without question. He wasn't proud of his behavior by any means.

  "I had hoped…" she whispered.

  Hope of his own swelled in his chest. Björn rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her own around his neck and before either of them could speak again, they were kissing. He wasn't even sure who initiated it. Her lips were soft and sweet and he was lost, so lost, in her embrace. His tongue brushed hers, and she tugged lightly on his hair as she enthusiastically copied the maneuver. He broke the connection only long enough to lift her off her feet.

  For whatever reason, a goddess had chosen him as her one chance at happiness. He couldn't promise love, as the thought terrified him a little. If he gave her his heart, and she left…he couldn't recover from that. His father had never taken a second wife. The men of their line only loved once.

  "What are you thinking about?" Hela asked against his lips, bringing him back to the present.

  "I am left with much to consider."

  She nodded as he set her on the bed, crawling in after her. Hela reclined against the furs, her dark hair spread out in all directions. She wasn't even naked yet and already he couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. The pressure to impress her had intensified, as did the stress of disappointing her somehow.

  A goddess in his bed. Who would have ever imagined?

  Chapter 6

  Björn sat on the edge of the bed looking somewhere between wanting to run and wanting to kiss her. She hoped he'd kiss her. That activity was far more enjoyable than she'd imagined, and she loved the way he smelled of sandalwood. Now that her secret was out, a giant weight was lifted. She didn't have to hide who she was, or guard her comments. If that nisse hadn't been so affronted by being brushed off as a superstition, Björn might not have believed her. With access to her powers, she could have proven it easily, but Loki had done all he could to make it impossible for her to succeed. She wouldn't be deterred.

  Yet, as Björn removed his boots then stood to undress, her breath hitched and she couldn't help but feel like she had finally gained that which she'd always been denied. Her thighs were slick when she moved to sit up and, surprised by it, she pulled up her shift just enough to slip her hand between her thighs to discover why. As she brushed her fingers over her wet skin, shivers raced up her spine and her eyes widened. Björn had been in the process of pulling his tunic over his head, and now his gaze was riveted on her hand with his arms frozen in midair above him as he clutched the fabric.

  "Are you wet and ready for me?" he asked, his voice was huskier than usual. Then he tossed the tunic to the side and stepped closer to the bed.

  She couldn't find her voice, so she nodded. As she started to remove her hand, he shook his head, nostrils flaring as though he could scent her yearning.

  "Keep stroking yourself. Eyes on me. Show me you desire me."

  Unsure why he wanted to see such an act, with her shift raised up to her belly and her legs apart, she stroked herself again, this time her fingers slipped closer to her core, and hit a sensitive spot near the top. She gasped and jerked her hand away.

  Björn's trousers were unlaced, but he hadn't taken them off. A bulge that had gotten larger since she'd touched herself strained to be freed. Her breathing became more difficult. She wanted to see him naked. To touch him.

  Evidently, he felt the same about her, for he crawled onto the bed and kissed her, running his hands over her shoulders, down her back, only to rest at her hips. "Lift your arms," he whispered and tugged the shift up. When she did as he asked, the garment was pulled over her head and tossed to the floor. Out of the need to do something, anything, with her hands, she started to cover her breasts. "Let me see you." He caught her hands, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles, and then lowering them to her sides. Björn held her gaze until their joined hands touched the bed furs, and then his focus shifted lower. He gulped.

  "Am I," she said hoarsely, "appealing?"

  Björn groaned and met her gaze again. "If I never knew you were a goddess, I would have sworn as much." He released her hands, resting his palms on her thighs. "I need to taste you."

  Hela leaned forward, parting her lips. He kissed her sweetly and chuckled against her mouth before moving his kisses down her chin to her neck and nipping at her shoulder playfully. "Lie back, dear one. Let me taste you."

  She wasn't sure what he meant. Hadn't he just done so? Still, everything had been pleasurable thus far, and she didn't mind seeing what he planned to do next. Björn groaned when she had to part her legs to get comfortable. He was taking up a lot of room, and she'd had to place one leg on either side of him to do so. Björn skimmed his fingertips down the tops of her thighs to her knees and pushed her legs even wider apart, staring at that hidden part of her with what could only be described as a ravenous expression.

  Before Hela could think, before she could react, he slid down to his stomach, and ran his tongue over the center of her. Pleasure tore through her like she had never known. Her mouth fell open and she gawked at him. When he caught her gaze, he smiled, moved his arms under her legs to drag her closer, and then he seemed to lose himself within some primal instinct that had been a secret to her for all those years she spent alone in a frozen realm. He licked and sucked and nipped at her sensitive flesh, finding that spot she'd touched earlier and making her body shake with need for—what? What did she need?

  He must know, for he kept encouraging her when she whimpered and moaned. He shifted an arm out from under her and she wrapped a hand in his blond hair, worried he would stop when she still…needed. He couldn't leave her like this! But he stroked a finger over her as he licked at that sensitive spot and then, pushed it inside her. Hela gasped as her hips bucked against his mouth. He removed the finger and replaced it with two this time. Gods, how had she lived so long without experiencing this? How could it get better? How—

  He thrust his fingers in and out in time with a series of slow licks to that spot that drove her crazy. Something inside her broke, snapped in half. She cried out, body arching against him and wave after endless wave of white, hot pleasure coursed through her. Björn continued to move his fingers in and out and licked at the increased wetness between her legs. It felt so good, but she finally understood what she'd needed. That moment. That sensation.

  That connection—with Björn.

  And she wanted it again. "More," she said on a gasp and he chuckled, rising off the bed. "Where are you going?" she pouted. How could he show her such a thing and leave her? Would he respond the same way if she tasted him?

  "My wife asked for more." He winked at her as he worked his trousers down to his thighs, freeing that part of him she'd been so curious about. It stood proudly as he removed his remaining clothing. When he was finally, gloriously, as naked as she, he climbed back between her legs, this time hovering over her, looking into her eyes. "Were you satisfied?"

  "Kiss me, and do it again." She placed her hands on his hips and squeezed gently, urging him to do what he had before or to let her have a turn. She wasn't sure which. This seemed to amuse him for he shook with laughter, mirth shining in his eyes.

  "You will never be the same now that you have tasted pleasure." She didn't have the chance to ask what he meant by that since he was kissing her and that interesting part of him brushed her sensitive flesh, still throbbing from his attentions. "This may sting a bit the first time," he said and lifted up to adjust himself at her opening.

  He pushed inside of her, an inch at a time. There was indeed some discomfort, but it wasn't painful. When he was fully inside, he kissed her again, and the sense of fullness felt…complete. It should have felt like an intrusion, yet he fit her like they were meant to connect. She supposed their bodies were designed to do so and she was being silly again, but she was so amazed by the experience that she couldn't contain her wonderment.

 
; Slowly, he pulled back and then pushed in again. Building up to a rhythm that had them both panting against each other's lips. She held on to his hips, daring to move a hand down lower over his backside. She squeezed and he groaned, kissing her as though doing so would ease him of his own need. His thrusts came faster, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his, wanting to feel him everywhere. Needing to feel everything he gave her.

  Finally, that sensation returned, bursting within her and making her body quake beneath his. He shouted against her lips and jerked. A warm liquid filled her, and her eyes widened as that amazing rush of pleasure returned, shocking her in its ferocity. It was then that she knew she could never return to Niflheim, for how could she live that cold, lonely existence when she now knew what it was like to truly feel alive?

  Chapter 7

  Björn stretched lazily and smiled as he opened his eyes and took in the sight of Hela curled up beside him under the furs. He couldn't believe he'd been so lucky as to end up with someone like her. And to think he'd tried so desperately to avoid marriage.

  She does not really want you. The thought entered his mind out of nowhere. Small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he brushed at his ear. She is but a goddess playing at mortality. Once she is done using you, she shall return home. As soon as you lose your heart to her, she shall break it. That is what goddesses do for amusement.

  Björn tried to dispel the thoughts, but like all doubts, they began to fester. What if she had lied to him again last night; she'd done it before, after all. What if it had been an act, and she had done this more than once? Another plaything to ease her boredom.

  A shadow moved across the room and he turned to see what had caused it, but there wasn't anything there. He rubbed his eyes. Had the discovery that magical beings and deities existed made him one of those superstitious men who would spend the remainder of his days jumping at shadows as though everything was not as it seemed? He couldn't live his life that way. The shadow was a trick of the light, nothing more.