Ragnarök Rising

by Nora Ash

  21

  Magni

  I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any shittier than I had when the Lokissons had bested me back in the glade—and yet there I was, sprawled alongside the road without even a view of the night sky. Not that I could have seen it anyway with the rain coming down in sheets that had soaked me through long before I’d toppled over like an old log. My face was in the mud, some of which had made it into my nose and mouth, and I was too weak to do anything about it besides wheeze.

  I should have gotten my ass back to Asgard. I should have at least tried. With my arm the way it was and the rest of my body slowly deteriorating in kind, the last thing I needed was to pursue my wayward mate across what amounted to the Asgardian backwoods.

  I needed healing. I needed rest. I needed to regroup.

  But I hadn’t done any of that. Instead, I’d set off in pursuit of Annabel, and in doing so, had turned against my own best interests.

  The worst part was that I didn’t know why. Or rather, I didn’t have a logical explanation for it. All I knew was that the farther she got from me, the worse my pain became. And not just the pain in my arm—this pain was far greater. It was the agony of distance, the excruciating experience of being separated from my mate.

  Every inch that stretched between us was a knife in my gut. Had I gone to Asgard, it would have been unbearable.

  And yet there was no physical reason for it, no tangible cause I could point to and rip out like a faulty organ. When it came to Annabel, the organ was my very soul.

  “Gods damn it,” I hissed, huffing as another spray of mud spattered my face. I closed my eyes, trying to at least will myself onto my back. It somehow seemed more dignified, even if it meant showing my belly to a passersby. What kind of man was I, traipsing about after a woman he’d already lost to three other men? What kind of god was I, lying here helpless?

  Clearly a lovesick one. Shame. it was a disease with no cure.

  Except her.

  She was all I wanted, all I craved. She was as potent a need in me as hunger or thirst, all at once the respite of sleep and the excitement of falling too far too fast. Being with her brought me peace just as much as it brought me electric joy. Fucking Annabel was like riding the lightning.

  Being without her was like drowning, but being unable to die—like bleeding out with no end. It was torture beyond imagining, a constant, crushing weight on my chest.

  And all the while I scolded myself for having taken her as my mate in the first place. I longed for the sight of her, the scent of her—even just the lilt of her voice….

  “Is that…?” someone said in the wake of a thunderclap, and my whole body jolted at the sound.

  Her. It was her.

  “Annabel….”

  The earth trembled with her footfalls as she raced to my side, kicking up puddles in fierce sprays. Every step brought her closer, made my blood pump harder and hotter, until she put her hands on my body and turned me over, kneeling at my side.

  “Jesus,” she whispered, her braided hair framed by storm clouds and purple lightning.

  “No,” I said, trying not to wince. “But close enough.”

  She didn’t laugh. Instead a strange parade of expressions flitted across her face—a caravan led by relief with anger and grief bringing up the rear.

  “Idiot,” she hissed, tumbling forward against my chest.

  I sank back into the mud with a grunt. Given my condition, I was worried the impact might break me, but instead of shattering, I felt suddenly… whole.

  It was like the soft press of Annabel against me was welding me together, stitching up all the disparate parts that had been torn asunder. With great effort, I managed to lift my good hand to the back of her head, clutching it as I breathed her in. Despite the dampness clinging to her and the time she’d spent with the Lokissons, she still smelled like mine.

  “You know,” Bjarni said, his shadow falling across me as he caught up with the wayward omega, “I have a sheep who’s a lot like you.”

  “I have a horse like him,” Grim chimed in, his stark features coming into view. “Or at least, one end of the horse is like him.”

  Over top of Annabel’s head, I leveled them both with my best glare. It must not have been very intimidating; they only smirked.

  But the look on Saga’s face was different. As he approached, there was a somberness to him, a sort of grim understanding. His cold eyes slipped away from me and to Annabel where she’d buried herself in my chest. Though I anticipated some raised hackles, all I got was a little nod of what looked like recognition.

  My thumb passed over the twin sets of indentations on Annabel’s nape. He knew. Better than anyone else, Saga knew what I’d gone through. After all, I’d spirited her away from him not so long ago. Was this how he felt?

  An unexpected stab of guilt panged in my stomach and rattled my bones. I shifted uncomfortably beneath Annabel’s slight form, but it wasn’t the weight of her body that was pressing in on me—it was the weight of what I’d done.

  I… actually felt bad for a Lokisson. And not just bad, but… there seemed to be a sort of kinship between us now.

  Well, shit.

  “I would have thought you’d have had enough smarts to get your ass back to Asgard,” Grim said lips still tilted smugly, “but it seems I overestimated you.”

  Bjarni chuckled. “Alone and wounded in enemy territory… I’m afraid it’s not a good look on you.”

  “It’s not as stupid as you think,” Saga snapped, stepping past them and to my side. “He didn’t need Asgard. He needed his mate.”

  He reached down, but instead of plucking Annabel from my embrace, he merely offered his hand to me.

  I blinked up at him, but took it. Annabel rocked back onto her heels, and together they helped me to my feet, though I hated that they had to do so.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, trying to lean more on Annabel than Saga, despite his obvious strength. “And… thank you for bringing my pet back to me.”

  Scowling, Annabel opened her mouth to speak, but Saga beat her to it. “We only came back for you because we need your help.”

  I snorted. “That must have hurt to admit.”

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “You have no idea.”

  “We need to get to Asgard,” Annabel said, still pressed to my side. The longer she was near me, the stronger I felt. I looked down at her in quiet wonder as stability returned to my legs. “Circumstances have… changed.”

  I cocked a brow. “You mean everyone and their brother knows what you are, and they’re after you now.” I shot a look at Bjarni and Grim. “In some cases, literally.”

  Bjarni crossed his arms. “Maybe he’s not so stupid.” Then he grinned. “But he still missed the good stuff.”

  “The good stuff?” Annabel shrieked, whirling on him fast enough to test my balance. “What happened back there—at the mead hall—that was fun for you?”

  “It’s quite likely,” Grim said with a shrug. “He’s a simple man, and he wasn’t the one getting auctioned off.”

  Now it was my turn to raise my voice. “Auctioned off?” Blood surged into my neck, hot and prickling. “You were going to auction off my mate?”

  “You’re all dense,” Saga barked, throwing his hands up. “I’ve explained it time and time again. It was a ploy!”

  Annabel narrowed her pretty eyes. “That doesn’t mean I had any fun.”

  “Oh?” Bjarni’s grin widened. “Are you sure?”

  With a huff, she quieted, and the brothers shared a knowing smile. I didn’t like it. The fact that they knew things about her I didn’t, that they had inside jokes and stories… it rankled.

  Fortunately, Bjarni put me out of my misery. “She kicked Surtr in the balls.”

  “You…” I stared at her again in shock. “You did?”

  “I did,” she confirmed, lifting her chin defiantly. “And he deserved it.”

  I looked her over, appreciating how much she’d chang
ed in so little time. She looked good in her leathers bordered by raven plumage, a stark contrast to her fair skin. Though she’d seemed out of place in them before, now she looked comfortable in them, like they’d been made with her in mind.

  And I supposed they had, but it wasn’t only her body filling them out anymore—it was her attitude as well, her confidence. That challenging spark in her eyes set off another flood of heat in my veins, only this time, it all hammered south.

  “Asgard,” I murmured, finishing my assessment of my mate. “Yes. That would be nice… if it were possible.”

  All four of them turned to me with Saga the first to ask, “What the hell does that mean?”

  “My bracelet,” I said, rattling it so he could see. “It’s stopped working. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why.”

  “Let me take a look at it,” Grim offered, approaching with a frown. “I’m good with magic.”

  Warily, I offered my arm for his inspection. He ran his nimble fingers across the metal and runes, cocking his head this way and that as he examined them. His lips moved in nearly silent recitation of the spellwork meant to transport us to my home, but even though a few of the sigils flickered obediently, they did not hum with power as they should.

  “Much as I hate to admit it,” he said, stepping back, “Magni’s not lying. Worse, I’m just as stumped as he is as to why the magic’s failed.”

  “Which means we’re talking about a month-long journey,” I said, nodding to Grim. “All of it on foot or horseback, and all of it through Jotunn territory.”

  Bjarni rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, and a lot of them aren’t happy with us right now.”

  Annabel’s face fell in total devastation. I couldn’t blame her. No doubt she’d sought me out as the solution to her problems. I hated to let her down, but it made me wonder if that was all she’d come after me for, and whether she’d have bothered if things were different.

  As if she’d sensed the thought, she looked up at me, meeting my gaze. “It’s probably because of what you did for me at the well… which makes this all my fault.”

  Carefully, I pulled away from Saga, laying both my hands on her shoulders. I practically engulfed her with just that tiny gesture, but it warmed my heart to see she no longer flinched at my touch.

  “Whether it is or it isn’t, I would do it again,” I told her, lightly squeezing her through her armor.

  She almost smiled. I pulled in a breath, touching my mark just behind her ear… and rolled my eyes at the retching sounds Bjarni made.

  “There’s another option,” Grim said, pushing at Bjarni to make him stop. He glanced at Saga, perhaps seeking permission, before training his eyes back on me. “We have a map left to us by our father. There’s a closer entry point… though it’s an unofficial one.”

  Given their father was Loki, I could only imagine what that might mean. Still, it was intriguing—and likely our best chance at getting the hell out of here both quickly and in one piece. “How close, and how ‘unofficial,’ are we talking?”

  “It’s practically right under your nose,” Bjarni said through an infuriatingly smug smile. “As to the rest, it shouldn’t matter… as long as you’re on board.”

  Now that was interesting—much as I needed them, it seemed the Lokissons needed me, which evened the playing field between us. Hell, depending on where in Asgard we ended up, it might even stack the deck in my favor. After all, once we were there, I didn’t have to offer up any guarantees as to their safety. The moment we were all safe and sound, I could have them banished right back here.

  But then I remembered how it felt to be parted from Annabel and guilt gnawed at me again. I wasn’t thinking so much about Saga’s feelings this time—now I was thinking of Annabel and what it would do to her to be parted from him, even for the time it would take to have his mark removed. And that made me think of what it must have been doing to her all along, how I’d already caused her so much pain, and….

  “Whatever you need,” I said, basking in the radiant glow of the hope on my mate’s face, “I will provide. But you must agree that my brother mates Annabel as I’d planned. I won’t give that up.”

  Saga chuffed, both his brows lifting. “You seem to think you’re in a position to bargain here. I wonder where you got that idea.”

  “You do need my protection,” I reminded him. “You’ve already admitted as much.”

  He pursed his lips. “Need is a strong word. I mean, it would be nice. But we could always just hang around until you die.”

  “Please. The moment I die is the moment you and your brothers suffer the same fate. The moment you so much think of setting foot in Asgard without me—”

  Annabel pushed away from me despite my growl of protest. A cold flash of anger burned in her eyes—the prelude to the detonation of a nuclear bomb. “Am I cheese?” she said.

  I blinked at her. “Are you what?”

  “Cheese,” she repeated. Okay, so I hadn’t misheard. “In your godly opinion, am I cheese?”

  I began several sentences, but in the end, abandoned each one. “I have no idea how to answer that.” When she only continued to glare at me, I went with my gut. “No?”

  “Am I flour?” she continued through her teeth. “Or fish? Or jewelry? Or a used car?”

  “Oh,” Bjarni said, nodding sagely. “I get it. What she wants to know is—”

  “What I want to know is,” Annabel snapped, cutting him off, “if I’m not just some market good to you, why the fuck do you insist on haggling over me like I am one?”

  I gaped at her. The three other alphas present didn’t seem willing to interject her glorious tirade, either. In the ensuing silence, Annabel continued. “I’m not going anywhere with any of you until you agree to save my family. Once and for all. No more tricks. If you want me to go along with this, you will give me what I ask.”

  I glanced at the three Lokissons, expecting them to protest, but no one spoke a word. Great. Seemed it fell to me to speak reason.

  “Annabel… they’re humans. If they’re fated to survive this, they will, but—”

  “You’re not listening,” she hissed, eyes flashing like lightning in a summer storm. “You can try to force me with you again. But I’m telling you right now—all of you—you won’t succeed. Not unless you treat me like an equal. Not unless you help me save my family and stop Ragnarök.”

  I wanted to argue, only because I knew that agreeing would mean a deviation from my own plans. A wrinkle in my attempts to save my own family. But… I stared down at Annabel and felt the throb of her fury in our bond.

  She was my family now, too, even if that’d never been a part of my plan when I set out to conquer her.

  I felt a softening in my chest, where our bond was hooked, and it scared me. Here I was cooperating with the enemy, even going so far as to share a woman with one of them, and I knew I’d bend to her will on this matter too, even if it was at the cost of my own desires. This wouldn’t sit well with my family. Hell, it still didn’t sit right with me.

  But she’d come back for me. Even if the Lokissons had only allowed it to gain access to Asgard. I’d felt her relief shuddering in sync with my own when she pressed into my chest.

  Breathing deeply, I turned to the other alphas and said, “It’s settled then. Together, we go to Asgard.”

  22

  Saga

  Knowing where we were headed didn’t make the prospect of arriving there any less daunting. First and foremost, there was the fact that we were using one of our father’s “back doors” to enter into Asgard, an act I was fairly sure would be frowned upon, to say the least. Despite having Magni in tow—and therefore, an excuse—there would be no small amount of fury awaiting us, a pack of Jotunn interlopers, on the other side.

  And then there was the undercurrent of dread to consider—the one that had been nipping at our heels since this ill-begotten journey began. Something wasn’t right here, and we all knew it. All of us save for perhaps An
nabel.

  How could she know? She’d been dropped into the middle of this mess completely unaware of the ins and outs of godly affairs. Hell, even my brothers and I could barely keep up with it all, and we were descended from them. Magni, for all the eons he’d spent living in Asgard, didn’t seem to be any wiser than we were. We’d known Ragnarök was coming—we’d prepared for that much—but now that it was here….

  It was the end of the world as mortals knew it, sure. But something seemed… off.

  I glanced over at Annabel as she walked alongside me, leading my brothers to the portal with Magni supported between them. She looked good in her leathers—damn good—but more than that, she looked strong.

  What I’d heard about her from her parents paled in comparison to the reality. They’d said she was studious, dedicated to her work, and self-sacrificing, and so I’d prepared for a submissive mate to continue our lineage. The truth was that Annabel was all of those things, but she was also so much more.

  I’d seen it at the mead hall and again when we found Magni lying in the mud alongside the road. She was confident and unwavering, brutal even, while at the same time capable of such compassion and tenderness it stole my breath. I’d already known she would be a good mother—that the instinct was there, as well as the disposition—but what I hadn’t realized was that she’d be a good woman. She wasn’t just some pretty plaything.

  That thought frightened me. It was something else I hadn’t prepared for, another complication that had cropped up where I least expected it. That seemed to be the running theme of our little adventure. It made me wonder if Fate weren’t playing some kind of game with us.

  Whether it was or not, we were about to cross yet another threshold. Before us lay the portal our father’s map had illustrated for us. There was magic in the air, a low vibration that flowed soundlessly, yet tangibly through the spaces between our atoms and bones.