by Nora Ash
She shook her head, stubbornly jutting out her chin, and I fought back urge to bite it—and then tumble her to the ground and give her something else to think about. That she’d mated my brother—and my enemy—did little to quell the need to bed the willful omega. She smelled like stale sex, sweat, and semen, and all it did was remind me how I’d been cheated out of partaking in her heat.
“Come up here! Arni and Magga are near,” Grim shouted from up ahead, distracting my focus from Annabel. I jerked my head in the direction of my brothers. Two ravens were circling up ahead.
“Come, sweetie,” I said, offering her my hand. “Don’t let your bond fool you into going back on your word. You swore you would follow us willingly if we let Magni live. Prove to me you honor your word, and I will in return swear to you that I will do whatever you ask to stop Ragnarök. Deal?”
She hesitated for a moment, searching my eyes for something. Then, swallowing, she nodded hesitantly and put her hand in mine. It was so small, it practically disappeared in my palm. “If you swear it. And no more tricks.”
“No more tricks,” I agreed, turning to catch up with Grim and Saga. “Though that’s more Saga’s thing, anyway.”
“Bjarni?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“Who is Arni and Magga? If not your parents, then—?”
“This is Arni and Magga.” I pointed up at the circling ravens.
“The birds?” she asked, confusion plain in her voice. “You had birds play your parents for the past decades? I don’t understand.”
I laughed and stopped as we reached my brothers, offering an arm to our winged messengers. Arni dove down to perch on the offered limb, but Magga chose Saga’s shoulder instead. She nuzzled up against his cheek, cooing sweetly.
“Only in name. They are our eyes and ears. Our messengers. They cross the veil of the realms and bring us news from near and far. This is Arni. Arni—Annabel.” I lowered my arm so the raven was about eye height with the small woman by my side.
“You named a raven Eagle?” she chuffed, reaching out to stroke Arni’s gleaming feathers. He immediately bit at her fingers, only narrowly missing the tips of them when I yanked my arm back.
“Behave!” I scolded. “She’s Saga’s mate and she’ll soon be mine. Let her.”
Arni shot me a withering stare. “Do you want our scouting report, or do you want me to play petting zoo with your mortal?”
“Oh my God, he talks!” Annabel’s eyes widened comically as she stared at the raven. “Is he… what is he?”
“Just a raven with a voice,” Grim said, voice dry as tinder. His dislike of our birds wasn’t a secret. “And an annoying one, at that.”
“Don’t be rude!” Annabel chided. Judging from the awestruck expression on her cute little face, she was as excited about our talking birds as she had been the horses on our farm. “Does that… does that mean Draugr can speak too?” she asked, confirming her thoughts had been on Grim’s black stallion.
“Draugr is a dumb animal. We’re messengers of the gods,” Magga cawed haughtily. Grim shot her a glare. He’d always been absurdly obsessed with his horses, especially that one-eyed stallion of his.
“Draugr isn’t dumb,” Annabel muttered, lips drawn down in disapproval of the raven’s comment. I stole a glance at Grim to see if her defense of his beloved horse might soften him a smidge, but no. There was nothing but dark displeasure in my youngest brother’s mismatched eyes.
“Enough,” Saga broke in. “Have you seen anything useful? Is the Spine passable?”
“There are passages,” Arni said.
“But the spires are whitening more and more each day. Soon, they will close and not open again until Ragnarök has eaten the world,” Magga finished.
“And the portal to Midgard? Did you see that?” I asked.
Magga ruffled her feathers. “We saw a portal.”
“But not to Midgard,” Arni supplied. “To Asgard.”
“Then we need you to scour the lands until you find the one for Midgard,” Saga said.
They both flapped their wings, ready to take off, but I lowered my arm to get Arni’s attention. “Not you. You need to find Loki and tell him we have the omega, but Thor’s bastard got in the way. Tell him we need his advice on how to rid her of the illegitimate claim.”
“He’s going to lay an egg,” Magga cackled. She set off Saga’s shoulder and flew a loop around our heads before she swung high into the sky. “Good luck with that message, brother.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s birthed,” Saga muttered.
I smothered a chuckle and jutted my chin at the bird still perched on my arm. “Off with you now. The sooner he knows, the sooner we’ll have a fix.”
Arni sighed deeply, a very human sound, and set off without another word.
“They’re not very polite, are they?” Annabel asked.
I chuckled. “No. It’s not in their nature. But in Arni’s defense, the last time he had to deliver bad news to Loki, it took him a month to regrow his tail feathers.”
“You need to stop sulking soon.”
Saga looked up at me from his broody stare into the still-crackling fire. It was long after sunset, and he was supposed to be asleep like Annabel and Grim while I took first watch. But he wasn’t.
“I’ll sulk for exactly as long as I please,” he said pointedly.
I chuckled low, conscious of the curled-up woman resting on the other side of the fire. Grim slept like the dead, but Annabel’d had a long day, and she was mortal. She needed her sleep. “It’s not winning you any favors with our mate.”
“So far she’s my mate,” he said, pressing a fist against his chest. “Don’t preach to me about my omega. I know her far better than you.”
I rolled my eyes, not taking the bait. Saga was usually very easy-going, but occasionally he would get in a mood. The last time was when he’d failed to convince Annabel to come to us when she reached her eighteenth birthday. Loki had been less than pleased with the son he put in charge of securing the bloodline.
Saga’d spent a month wrestling mountain trolls in the Spine after that one.
“You sure about that? Because all you’ve managed so far is to alienate and antagonize her.”
Saga shot me a glare. “Don’t start with me.”
I sighed, glancing at the sleeping girl. She looked… troubled, as if she were plagued with bad dreams. “Look, all I know is, if it’d been my mark on her neck, I’d have spent the night under her blanket, keeping her warm and making sure she doesn’t miss that prick Magni too bad.”
“You think I don’t want that?” he snapped. “It’s not that easy. She isn’t one of your doe-eyed farm girls. I try to give her the comfort of an alpha, and she hates me for manipulating her. I save her from that asshole, and she says I’m worse than he is! She’s… difficult.”
I cracked a grin. “Not really, brother. She’s just a scared little girl with a nasty temper and nowhere to turn. I don’t care what nonsense you’ve heard about omegas needing a firm hand. She’s a spitfire, and if you don’t start appreciating that, you’re going to ruin it for yourself. And for Grim. That sorry fuck’s going to need both of us to not absolutely screw up his bond with her. And you can’t do that if you’re at odds with her too.”
Saga sighed, flicking his gaze to our sleeping brother. He lay several yards from the fire, with his back turned and his black hair spilling over the hard ground. “I don’t know how.”
“For starters, don’t be a prick,” I suggested with a small smile that earned me a scowl in return. “She’s female—she’s going to act out. Let it roll off your back. And then… I think we need to do some damage control. She’s been through the wringer, and honestly, it’s not so weird she doesn’t really trust us.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Saga asked, eyebrow raised.
I shrugged and leaned forward to poke the fire with a stick, ensuring the logs would stay at a comfortable smolder so the omega di
dn’t freeze. “We take her to Mom’s place. If we’re crossing the Spine, it’s on the way, and I think it’d be good if she sees us as something other than her kidnappers. Don’t you?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes at Grim’s firmly pressed lips, as Saga heaved a sigh.
“She’s not going to beat you with a spoon, Grim, you’re old enough to know not to get in the way of her livestock this time.”
“Who’s not going to what now?” Annabel came through the bushes from where she’d spent some time cleaning up in the spring that trickled by our makeshift camp. I caught myself inhaling to test her scent, and found the traces of sex replaced by her natural scent of honey, thyme, and woman. It did little to still my desire for her. She may not be in heat anymore, but I’d never been around an omega without fucking her this long before. And Annabel… she was more than just an omega. She was mine. Or, she was supposed to be.
“We’re stopping by our mother on the way to the mountains,” Saga said, and I didn’t miss how much gentler his tone was today. “Grim’s scared of her.”
“Why?” she asked, blinking at Grim in clear surprise. I imagined she found it hard to think of Grim as scared of anything. Or having any emotions other than hatred. Most people did.
“I am not scared of that woman,” Grim said, a suppressed snarl in his voice. “She is nothing to me.”
“Great! No reason to avoid her house, then,” Saga said with a cheerful smile. “Let’s pack up and get going.”
I smothered a smirk at the dirty look Grim shot in Saga’s direction and grabbed my backpack. The thing about being an emotionally constipated ball of barely contained rage was that it made you awfully easy to manipulate.
“Why doesn’t Grim want to see your mom?” Annabel asked me, voice politely lowered.
I glanced up ahead at my black-haired brother who’d taken the lead, and sighed. “It’s not his mom—it’s Saga’s and mine. But he grew up there for some of his younger years. Was a moody little bastard even back then, and got into a heap of trouble every other day. And Mom’s quick with the wooden spoon. We all got a good few whacks over the years, but Grim especially. And he’s not the type to let go of a grudge.”
“Oh.” She frowned as she followed my line of sight. “Poor guy. If she beat him, I can’t say I blame him for not jumping for joy at the prospect of seeing her again.”
I shrugged and lopped an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the small stiffening in her posture at the uninvited contact. “Perhaps not. I just never saw the point in holding on to old pain. Makes it hard to enjoy life if you drag around every slight.”
“Says the man who’s willing to murder another god over old hatred,” she said, arching an eyebrow in my direction.
I laughed and gave her a squeeze that nearly knocked her off course. “Fair point. And had it been anyone but Mom who took a spoon to him, I’d have killed them for putting a finger on either of my brothers. But that’s just how child rearing goes here. A firm hand is the only thing that’ll keep young Jotunns in check.”
“I’d never hurt my child—nor one that was placed in my care,” she said, giving me a hard look. “Not even a Jotunn.”
My gaze flickered to her stomach of its own accord. Yeah, she was fierce. And protective, even over hypothetical kids that she’d gone to great lengths to declare she didn’t want.
Since before I came of age, I’d known my mate would be whoever this prophecy deemed the right one. For centuries I’d known I’d share her with my brothers, and that who she was as a person didn’t matter in the slightest. I’d accepted it without complaint, because I’d do anything for my family, and keeping them alive through Ragnarök was the most important thing I’d ever do.
And here she finally was, all fire and claws, telling me she’d never hurt a child. My child. Or my brothers’—it was the same to me.
Warmth I hadn’t anticipated bloomed in my chest as I stared at the little mortal that I’d never before worried about if I’d like or not.
And I knew I would love her.
“Don’t even think—Oh!” Annabel’s combative voice died on a groan.
* * *
“Annabel? What’s the mat—?” My own question faded into nothing when her eyes turned upward, showing only the whites, and she omitted a sickly keening noise before she collapsed in my arms. Lifeless.
18
Annabel
Dark clouds whirled above me, barely visible as a swathe of charcoal gray through the blanket of heavy rain pelting down on me.
“Annabel!”
I jerked at the frantic sound of my name and saw Saga come running toward me from several hundred yards away. As far as I could tell, we were in a flat and wide valley, hills rising to our left and—in the far distance—white-tipped mountains rising to the right. A far cry from the rocky woodland we’d made camp in.
“What’s the hell?” I muttered, squinting against the rain to try to make sense of my surroundings.
“The dam is breaking! Get her out of here!” Saga roared, and despite the distance, the sheer panic in his voice carried loud and clear.
Large hands clasped my shoulders, pulling on me.
“Let’s go,” Bjarni growled.
“What’s happening?” I asked, a tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. The bond between Saga and me was tight as a bow string and vibrating with frantic intensity.
“There’s no time for your harebrained questions!” Grim barked from my other side and another hand carved from granite closed around my bicep. “Run!”
But my question didn’t go unanswered.
Behind Saga a gray wall of churning water burst forward out of nowhere, sweeping toward him with roaring speed.
No matter how fast he ran, he would never outpace it. And neither would we. I stood frozen as the flood swept Saga away on its path to swallow me, too.
Annabel!
* * *
I gasped for air, my eyelids fluttering open as someone shook me hard.
I was staring up into a gray sky several shades lighter than it’d been just a second ago. Saga was bent over me, worry painted in every angle of his face.
“Sweetling, are you okay?”
I wasn’t sure what was more astonishing—opening my eyes and realizing I wasn’t dead, or the gentle tone of the alpha who’d only yesterday growled at me that I’d learn to kneel.
“I think… I had a vision,” I said, pushing him away so I could sit up.
“Again?” he asked, but despite the exasperated tone, he continued, “What was it this time?”
“There was a storm… And a flood. A dam broke. We… I think we died.” It was so surreal, talking about my own future death after having already experienced it. And his. My heart clenched hard, and I rubbed at my ribs at the same time as Saga brought his hand to his own chest, pressing his knuckles in where it attached on his end.
He frowned at me. “Where were we? Can you describe the area?”
“You’re actually taking a mortal’s claims of having visions seriously?” Grim asked, and even though I couldn’t see him, his tone made it more than clear what he thought of my claims.
“You weren’t at Mimir’s well,” Saga growled with a scowl over his shoulder. “She saw it, even though that thing tried to shield itself. If she’s had a vision of dying, I’m going to listen. And so are you.”
It was an odd sensation, hearing him defend my supposed powers not twenty-four hours after he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in them. Odd, but… nice.
“We were out in the open. A large valley, I think, hills on the left, mountains on the right. I couldn’t see much for the rain,” I said, frowning as I tried to recall the details.
“The White River dam,” Bjarni mumbled. “We’ll be there in about five hours at this pace. If the lady can stop fainting, of course.”
I shot him a glare that only earned me a grin in return.
Saga lifted his head and looked up. The clouds were e
ver-looming, but seemed thicker toward the east. “There’s definitely a storm coming. Fuck! If we take the other path it’ll be three weeks before we even get to the foothills.”
“Really? We’re doing this?” Grim heaved an impatient sigh. “We’re going on a three-week detour because your omega fainted and had a nightmare?”
“It wasn’t a nightmare,” I snapped. He only offered me a cocked eyebrow in response.
“You should be pleased,” Saga said as he got up from his crouch, grabbing my hand to pull me up along with him. “It means we won’t be stopping by Mom’s house.”
“No, but we will need to find shelter before the weather gets bad,” Bjarni said as he cast a long look at the gathering darkness on the horizon. “If it’s enough to make the White River dam burst, it’s gonna be a bad one.”
“The only place not through the valley within a twenty-mile radius is Udgard,” Grim said, lips pulling into a firm line. “Bad enough to bring an omega there—if anyone spots Magni’s mark, we’re all done for.”
“What’s wrong with being an omega in Udgard?” I asked.
Saga grimaced. “The human world isn’t the only place with a shortage of omegas. And Udgard has a lot of warriors hanging around. Alpha warriors. And few rules, except the strong take what they want.”
“Oh.” I was partly surprised that he was trying to be delicate about it, but mostly I was fighting back horror.
“They usually leave a mated woman alone, but even if we could show off my mark without revealing Magni’s, they’d know who you were,” my mate continued. “Fuck! If it’s gonna get that bad, we can’t stay outside. Jotunheim is not a safe place for a mortal in the best of circumstances. During a storm….”
He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t need to. I’d already seen what happened during a storm.