Death's Gift: Norse Blessed Book One

by B. Livingstone

  Odin’s brow only rises at my turn in mood. My excitement at finally being able to do something to help my sister. “I do believe you are starting to understand the usefulness of your gift,” he says, his voice full of pride.

  Before I can think better of it, I stand and wrap my arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug and whisper, “Thank you. Thank you for helping me see that I still have a future worth living for.”

  Odin releases a sigh before his body, twice my size, relaxes under my embrace and his arms come around me, engulfing me in return. “Your life is only getting started, my dear.”

  A tear slips from my eye as I squeeze him a little tighter and nod into his shoulder. He pushes me back, holding my shoulders so he can look into my eyes. “Continue to talk with your mate, continue to heal your past and look to the future. Now, you have training with Fenrir for which you are late. Time to call that wolf of yours to the front. Besides, I do believe Baler is looking for me.”

  At the sound of Baler’s name, a heat begins to form low in my belly and excitement thrums through my veins. “Right. Thank you again, Odin.” With that parting, I take off in hopes of not making a complete fool of myself.

  I don’t find Fenrir at the training yard but rather in an open field centered between the edge of the woods and a large swimming pond. His nearly seven-foot muscular frame is folded in half, sitting lotus style with his eyes shut in the tall grass. Only his shoulders and head peek out the top of the grass. If he expects me to sit down, I’ll be swallowed up by it, all five feet four inches of me.

  “Grace, thank you for joining me.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I was with Odin.” His left eye cracks open to study me before closing again.

  “Sit. We have much to do.” His tone is flat, void of all emotion.

  Here goes nothing.

  Not wanting to ruffle his feathers any more than I appear to have done, I sit down in front of Fenrir, a curtain of grass between us creating a silent space of nature. “Relax, Grace. Close your eyes and breathe in the scents of everything around you. Let it fill you. Deep into your lungs, stretching down each arm to your fingertips, down your legs and through your toes. From your head and to your soul. Carry that scent and allow it to touch your wolf. Let her bask in the feel of the grass and the cool crispness of the air around you.”

  Doing as he says, I close my eyes. My fingers play through the grass as I rest my wrists on my knees. Taking a deep inhale of the cooling breeze, the scents of nature all around fill me. I imagine the mingle of scents as a light traveling through my body, filling every inch of me, and seeking out that dark place. Finding the void, I push the light into it, filling it to the brim.

  A whine leaves my throat that isn’t mine. One filled with loss and desire, a need to feel the tickle of the grass blades beneath my paws or the cool air brushing through my fur. The need to run and jump, to move. An ache begins to build inside of me, pushing from my center. An echoing howl resounding through my mind, an urgency to be free.

  One hand flies to my head, while the other lands on my chest. Before I know what I am doing, I’m stripping off my clothes which feel much too tight, too constricting. “Go with it, Grace. Do not try to fight it. Feel the pull and let her come.” Fenrir’s soothing baritone voice washes over me like a balm to my frazzled nerves, and I understand in that moment why we’re in the tall grass. He knew what it would feel like when the shift started. He knew I’d have a desire to strip off the offending garments that bound me.

  Piece by infuriating piece, I frantically remove my clothes, leaving me lying there as my body begins to heat from the inside out. My bones feel as though they are moving under my skin, lengthening, and bending in ways I never felt before. Pain ripples through me as my bones begin to break and knit themselves back together. Something is draped over me and a large warm hand comes to rest on my head.

  “You are almost through. The first shift is always the most painful.” Fenrir’s large hand works its way through my hair. His other hand glows for a moment before he places it over my abdomen. Immediately some of the pain subsides and I let out a deep sigh of relief, looking up into his charcoal grey eyes.

  “I am sorry, Grace. I thought I would be able to sit on the other side of that grass and talk you through this, but her pained whines mixed with your cries are too much for my wolf to handle. Being your Alpha, he is drawn to help you.”

  “It’s okay. Whatever you’re doing actually feels really good. I mean the pain is still there but it’s more like background noise now.” Another bone breaks and reforms in and out of transition and I groan with the pain. At that moment Fenrir’s face pales and scrunches, every muscle going tight. His lips press together as though he’s trying to hold something back and it hits me.

  Shifting to the side I push him back. “No!” I begin to protest as the walls around the overwhelming agony drop and the pain slams back into me like a freight train, ripping another blood curdling scream from my lungs. I’m thrown to my back, my spine cracking and arching out, pressing jagged bones into the ground causing my skin to tear. Quickly and excruciatingly, I roll over and move to my hands and knees to relieve some of the pressure off of my vertebrae which are now expanding and pushing outward. Realigning my spine from vertical stacking to horizontal for ease of motion on four legs.

  Fenrir moves to my side. I can feel his Alpha power rolling off of him, penetrating my core. “Grace, let me help.” It’s not a plea or a request, it’s a command. He moves to place a hand on my back, however before he touches me, I turn my head and snarl at him.

  “NO!” I growl low and menacing. My voice no longer the high lilting feminine tone I’m used to. His eyes widen and brows shoot up in surprise. Just then my sternum presses out as my ribs expand, my shoulders hunch forward as they slide into place, my hips and pelvis drop back and angle, my arms and legs twist and snap into position, as my face contorts to include a snout. Thick, bright, pure snow-white fur sprouts, covering my entire body as longer ears grow from the top of my head.

  The snapping and twisting finally stops. Exhausted, I sag into the cool grass, panting for breath to fill sore lungs. Thirst calls to my dry throat as I heave in another lungful of air.

  “Grace?” A voice asks from behind me, laced with concern.

  Slowly, my eyes open, the world comes in a vividly clear picture, every detail honing it to a pinpoint. The sounds around me amplify, pressing in from every angle. It’s overwhelming, and I whine from the onslaught of noise around me. I shake my head, trying to cover my ears but unable to fully block it out.

  Two large hands come to cover my ears and warmth fills my mind. A soothing voice pushes through the invading sounds, “Focus on me, Grace. Find my voice and follow it back. This is just one more thing you need to learn to control. Focus on me. You can do it. Find my voice.”

  I try to find the source of the soothing voice. Filtering through the cacophony of noises around me, I’m finally able to lock onto that deep baritone voice, smooth as silk. Pushing all other sounds and noises aside, I try to stay focused on just the sound of his voice.

  The voice gradually gets quieter making it harder to hold on. “Come on, Grace. You can do it,” he whispers so low I have to push everything else down deeper to hold on to it. “Well done, Grace.”

  The warm hands slide down from my ears, not letting me go but moving to cup my face. My eyes reopen to focus on the man in front of me. Fenrir.

  I whimper from the weak stiffness in my bones and muscles as I move to stand. All four of my legs wobble under my weight. That’s right four legs.

  I’m a fucking wolf.

  10

  Grace

  OH… MY… GODS! I’m a wolf. A fucking wolf.

  I try to stand once more but my legs give out on me again. Two large hands drop on my sides, startling me at first until I realize it’s Fenrir. His grip is soft but firm as he steadies me. Slowly, I push up on my front legs, coming to a sitting position. I take a moment and wig
gle out my toes on my front paws, kneading the ground under me.

  Testing my control over my movements, I lift one paw then the other. Once I’m satisfied with my strength and control, I slowly push my rear up with my back legs. Fenrir’s grip tightens again ready to lend me his support. I’m grateful but also annoyed that he feels the need to do this. I huff through my nose my annoyance at him, and he just chuckles at me.

  “I am just trying to support a new wolf. Your legs are not used to having to support your weight yet. I do not want you to hurt yourself.”

  I growl at him. Did he just call me fat? How dare he?

  Ass. Another voice inside my head says, startling me. Whipping my head around, I hunt for the source of the voice.

  “Now, Grace,” Fenrir starts, pulling me from my hunt, “I know what you are thinking and no I did not call you overweight. I was simply trying to state that being an adult you have more weight than a new pup would. Therefore, your new wolf legs need to adjust to accommodate this.”

  I groan a protest, but I get what he is trying and failing to say.

  Standing on all four legs now, I move to take a step forward and thankfully manage to stay upright. Slowly, I take a step and then another, until I am moving completely on my own without Fenrir’s help. Soon enough, I’m moving through the tall grass at a slow trot. It feels amazing as the stiff blades of grass tickle my belly and comb through my fur. I bet it doesn’t compare to the feeling of the wind though. That is a feeling I very much want to experience.

  With my mind set, I take off at a run. I sprint into the woods, Fenrir calling behind me. I don’t stop though, in fact, I push harder. Pumping my legs as I move through the trees, leap over logs, and scurry through the underbrush. It feels amazing, freeing.

  Free. That voice from earlier says again. I get it then, my wolf. I smile to myself, a feeling of being more centered and whole starting to build.

  Do you want to lead? I ask her, wanting her to finally be truly free.

  Weak. Is her only thought back, and she does indeed sound weak, almost broken.

  I’ll run for us then. Until you’re strong enough to fly. I assure her. A lightness to her spirit fills me and I push harder, running through the trees, relishing in the feel of freedom.

  Another wolf moves up on my left, soulful grey eyes tell me it’s Fenrir. I yip at him playfully and take off. A noise that sounds a lot like a wolfish laugh comes from behind me and before I know it, he’s there, nipping at my heels.

  We run and play for what feels like hours before he leads me back to the grass field outside of the woods, to my pile of clothes. I stand there staring at the clothes, not ready to shift back and unsure of even how to begin.

  Fenrir walks through the curtain of grass and a moment later returns, shifted and dressed. “You have to shift back now, Grace. I will talk you through it.”

  I glare at him, knowing he’s right. I do need to shift back. With one last look at the woods behind me, I glance back to him with a nod.

  “Clear your mind of all thoughts except your human form. Picture your legs and your arms. Remember what it feels like to walk on two legs and how your hands wrap around a glass to pick it up. Picture your lips, your human lips, and remember the feel of them as you kissed Baler yesterday.”

  At the mention of Baler and lips my mind drifts back to this morning, and I can easily remember my body and how it felt to wrap it around him, how he felt inside of it. Without another thought, my bones begin to crack and bend, shifting under my skin. I release a howl of pain as I slump to the grassy ground.

  Fenrir is by my side in an instant, whispering soothing words and trying to reassure me that it will all end soon.

  I must have blacked out from the pain because the next thing I know, I am lying in the middle of my bed, wrapped in a white silk sheet. I attempt to move but my body protests the movements, feeling as though I’ve gone ten rounds with Baler and had my ass kicked. Groaning I lay back down, sinking into my cloud.

  “Grace, you’re awake. Thank the Gods,” Baler exclaims as he comes into my line of sight.

  “Hey,” I rasp. My throat dry and sore, presumably from all of the screaming I’ve done lately.

  I try to wet my lips, but my mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert. Baler reaches over to the nightstand and brings over a glass of water. Sliding his arm under my shoulders, he helps me to sit up so I can drink.

  I try to lift my arms to take the glass from him, but they won’t move. I make a pathetic whimper and he just chuckles at me. “Not… funny,” I grate with little force.

  “It kind of is, Love. It’s okay though, I am here to help you,” he states as he lifts the glass to my lips. I greedily drink down every last drop.

  “More, please,” I ask while licking my lips. Baler releases a small groan while his hand on my shoulder tightens. I glance up at him and find his eyes trained on my lips. My lips part and my tongue slides along my lower lip again, completely unthinking. He groans again and leans in, catching my tongue between his lips.

  The glass gets tossed to the other side of the bed as he slides over me, slowly lowering me back down to the bed. He holds his weight above me on his other hand which is braced beside my head. His mouth locks onto mine, devouring every inch of me.

  Finding strength fueled by my desire for the man above me, my arms fly up and wrap around Baler’s waist, pulling his hips down, wanting so badly to feel his weight on me. For him to press me into the cloud beneath me. Even with the comforter still between us, I can feel how much this is affecting him. I want so much to feel even more of him.

  Baler’s hand across my shoulders shifts so his fingers are tangled in my hair. Twining them around the silk strands, he gives a tug, angling my head to give him better access to my neck. I don’t protest at the move of dominance, demanding my submission. He nips and licks his way from my jaw to my shoulder.

  “Baler, Gods. I want to feel you, Baler,” I moan as he locks his mouth around the juncture of my throat and sucks deep. He grinds his hips into mine, and I groan in protest. “Too much between us. Please, Baler.”

  Leaning back up, Baler looks down at me. “What are you saying, Grace?”

  I stare into his eyes, wanting this to be very clear. I want him to see the need and hear the desire to own him and be owned by him. “I want you, Baler. In every way I can have you, I want you.”

  Baler’s eyes glow with an inner light and I gasp, my hand coming to his cheek. “Baler?”

  “A gift from Odin. He made a promise to you and he kept it. I am to stay at your side, today, tomorrow, and every day to come. War or no war, I am yours, Grace. For as long as you’ll have me.”

  Tears fill my eyes as joy fills my soul. My wolf pushes to the front, my eyes taking on the unearthly glow. “Mine,” she growls.

  “Yes, my little wolf. I am yours,” he confirms her claim over her mate.

  In an inhuman move, he pulls the comforter from between our bodies so the only thing between us is the sheet around me and his clothes. Sitting up, he pulls off his tunic and undoes his belt as I attempt to unwrap myself.

  Frustration getting the better of me, I huff out a long-exaggerated breath. Weakness taking hold of my limbs again, I drop my arms to my side, unable to remove the sheet from around me.

  “Allow me,” Baler says, running his hands from my ankles up my legs. “Lie back, Love. Just relax.” I do. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing as he grabs the edge of the sheet and gently pulls it to the side. A tug beneath me indicates the freedom of one side. Shifting my weight slightly in an attempt to free the other side, I lift my hips to help as much as I can, but truth be told, I can barely lift a finger let alone my hips. “Relax, Grace.”

  I can feel when the sheet is completely free, however rather than fully uncovering me, he leaves it draped over my body. Opening it just enough to expose one of my legs as he runs his lips up my inner thigh. Just as he reaches the hollow of my hip bone, a loud screech reverberates through the room from
the open balcony. Baler’s head shoots up and he moves to cover my body with his own.

  “Shit,” I groan, smacking the bed beside me. “Why now?”

  Baler hides his face into the crook of my neck as he grumbles his frustration. The vibrations of his deep voice tickling my nerves, pulling a giggle from me. “Baler,” I laugh. “Baler, that tickles.” He rubs his chin along my neck, his facial hair causing tingles to race up and down my spine. My giggle morphs into a full-on body laugh.

  Hugin screeches from the balcony again, echoed by an equally annoyed Munin. “Really, guys? You are the ones that interrupted us, not the other way around. You’ll have to give us a minute,” I yell back, and Baler laughs into my neck again.

  “I guess Odin wants us,” I state on a long, drawn out sigh.

  Baler rolls to his left off of me, resting on his elbow to look down at me while his right-hand trails down my side and over my exposed hip. A shiver runs through me, one that he does not miss. “You are probably right. Though I would much rather stay and play with you.” He punctuates this by teasingly running his finger along the inner crease of my hip and thigh, waking every nerve in my body.

  “Yeah.” He has got to stop touching me now so I can breathe. Swallowing down the moan that wants to desperately escape me. I push Baler’s hand off of me and shift to sit up. Catching sight of Hugin and Munin on the balcony, I nod and say, “Tell him we’ll be right there.”