by Nora Ash
Can’t think about that now.
There was no happy ending for me and Modi. There was no happy ending for any of us. I’d finally realized that when I'd awakened between him and Bjarni, every cell in my body throbbing with the ache in the four bonds splitting me into pieces.
There was a reason omegas didn’t mate more than one alpha.
For a moment there, after Saga and Magni had united inside of me, I’d thought I’d be able to reconcile the two bonds. That perhaps once everything had settled down, I’d be able to find happiness with the five men destined to be mine.
But no woman was capable of holding five mating bonds within her, not even one blessed by Norns. In the end, there would only be pain.
It didn’t matter. So long as we lived, so long as we stopped Ragnarök, my mates could resent me, could regret caving to Fate. I was strong enough to endure until we were all safe again.
I had to be.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way we can reach Thor and convince him to help?” I asked, looking at Modi. “I know he was adamant you bring Loki back, but is there a chance he’ll come? It’s his son’s life on the line too.”
A look I couldn’t decipher flickered over Modi’s features “No. He has tasked me with this. He is busy preparing to meet the Jotunn hordes, and nothing will deter him from his destiny. He has been preparing for that battle for a long time.”
I blinked. What was it with gods making shitty parents?
The tiniest thread of a thought sparked and I pressed a hand to my abdomen, swallowing hard. Hopefully it wasn’t all gods who’d abandon their offspring in their time of need.
It was insane, really—that I’d fucked multiple alphas while lost in heat, and the thought of pregnancy hadn’t really entered my mind until then. I’d been lucky thus far, but who knew how long that would last?
How many gods does it take to knock up an omega?
Don’t think about that now.
I forced down a hysterical urge to giggle—or cry. No one cared if I ended up pregnant, not with the end of the world looming. I shouldn’t either.
Focus, Anna. Focus.
“Right. It’s just us. Then we’ll make it work. What’re Loki’s weaknesses?” I looked back to Bjarni. “Something we can exploit?”
The big alpha snorted. “Weaknesses? He has none.”
“Everyone has a weakness,” I said, rubbing my temples as I tried to conjure up any knowledge I had on the God of Mischief. “Does he have anything or anybody he cares about that we can leverage?”
Bjarni worked his jaw. When he answered, bitterness colored his voice. “No. He only cares for his own life.”
“So he’s selfish,” I mumbled. “Self-serving. He will only cave if it’s the best way to ensure his own survival.”
“Pretty much,” Bjarni said.
“Color me unsurprised,” Modi muttered, earning a glare from the blond giant.
“Brute force it is, then,” I said before the two of them could get at each other’s throats. “Show him we are strong enough to kill him if he doesn’t comply—and offer a carrot on the other end. He undoubtedly knows what plans Odin has for him. If we can somehow offer him an escape hatch once we reach Valhalla and your brothers are safe, he should be… persuadable to see things from our side.”
“It’s got merit,” Modi said, and if I wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a drop of admiration in his voice. “But the question is how to convince him we are strong enough to kill him if he doesn’t back down.”
I looked from him to Bjarni. “Are we? Strong enough?”
“Perhaps,” the blond said, his voice uncharacteristically somber. “There is one way in which we have and advantage: He has no allegiance with anyone but himself. He is alone. We… We are not. If the three of us combine our strengths, we might have a shot.”
Twenty-Two
Modi
“Why did it take you two days to get here when the feather duster led you?” I grumbled as Bjarni turned off the road and walked toward the thick woods. “Even with a human in tow, it has been, what, sixteen hours? I presume your coward of a sire is hiding somewhere in the woods?”
Said human huffed behind me, but the irritation I felt in our bond at my words remained unvoiced. She was too exhausted from our sixteen-hour walk to argue. Not a terrible quality in a woman, in my opinion.
“His name was Arni,” Bjarni said, his voice acrid. “I suspect Loki wanted to throw off any pursuers—he had us take the scenic route.”
“Arni? Who names a raven Eagle?” I muttered.
“Was?” Annabel asked, her voice turning soft. She pushed forward a couple of steps, placing a hand on Bjarni’s arm. “His name was Arni?”
Bjarni hesitated, but his steps slowed, allowing the omega to keep pace. “Yes. Was,” he finally bit out. “Loki saw Magni's claim on you as a failure of mine and my brothers. He killed Arni and Magga as punishment for our shortcomings, and as a reminder not to fail him again.”
“Oh, no.” Sorrow flickered in our bond, pulling uncomfortably on my instincts to step forward and comfort the girl. But before I could process the urge, she pressed her forehead against Bjarni’s bicep and wrapped her arm around his back in an intimate gesture.
“I’m so sorry. They didn’t deserve that.”
Bjarni only responded with a grunt, but he pulled her closer against his side and kept her there as we entered the woods.
I followed them, fighting down the burn of jealousy as I stared at their backs.
It was just instincts—nothing but stupid, primitive instincts that had my body reacting as if Annabel were truly mine.
She was not.
What was between her and I was nothing but a Norn on a power trip deciding to weave our fates together, sprinkled with a healthy dose of hormones. Much as I loathed the thought, I could no longer deny that the prophecy they had blabbed about had to be true, at least to some extent. Why else would I have been compelled to bite down on her slender neck until her skin broke and the most ancient magic in existence bound us together? I certainly had not wanted to.
Sure, in that moment, while I was still dazed from the most pleasurable climax in my immortal life, my knot thick inside her tight heat and the scent of woman in my nostrils, it had seemed like the only choice. Like she was a piece of me and I would never survive being parted from her again.
Reality was… quite a lot less enjoyable.
I glared at the couple ahead of me. I had pushed down my confusion and pain when she had reminded me that this was the Norns’ plan, that there was nothing we could do one way or the other, and that none of us had to like it. Her words rang true, and it made it infinitely easier to cope.
If I was destined not to die in glorious battle, but to instead sacrifice my sanity in an attempt to stop Ragnarök? Fine. I was willing to do that.
But it did not stop the gnawing in my gut as I watched Annabel quietly comfort her other mate. There was such an ease to it, as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle coming together without any of the jagged edges I felt in my own bond to her.
As if her speech about "none of us wanting this" only referred to me.
Just instincts. Just dumb, animal instincts.
My father was right—glory and honor were the only things that mattered in the end. I would have that. I would bring Loki back to stand trial for treason, and I would stop Ragnarök. I was nothing but a means to an end for Annabel, and she was the same to me. What care did I have if the other alphas tied in our web of Fate wanted more from her than access to her powers?
I did not.
We stopped a little ways in, the hum of Annabel’s exhaustion causing Bjarni and I to set up camp without exchanging a word. We did not have to—when it came to the omega’s needs, we shared a direct link.
“Eat. It will help your body keep warm,” I said, throwing some of the weirdly packaged stuff I had scavenged from the shops below the apartment at her. The moment we had stopped to make camp, sh
e had dusted snow off a fallen log and plopped down, arms wrapped around her body and forehead resting against her knees.
She took the offered food—or that is at least what they called it—without protest this time, opening the packaging with a rattle of shaky fingers.
“We cannot risk making a fire if Loki’s close,” I said, feeling the need to explain why I was not doing more to keep her warm. Stupid instincts. “Bjarni will have our shelter ready in a moment.”
“I know," she said, offering me a small smile between bites. “Thank you.”
I grunted an acknowledgement and turned my back, taking a few steps to the outskirts of the small divot we had made our temporary home. Our enemy was close—my focus needed to be on him, not her.
“Annabel, the tent’s up. It’s time to sleep,” Bjarni called from behind me.
She didn’t answer, but I heard her get up from her tree trunk and head toward him. Heavy footfalls came my way, and I turned my head to nod at the blond alpha as he stopped by my side.
“I will take first watch,” I said in response to his unasked question.
“Loki’s hideout is about four hours from here, taking Annabel’s pace into consideration,” he answered. “We won’t gain anything by approaching in the dark—for facing the God of Mischief, daylight is our friend. Wake me before dawn. Once you’ve slept, we’ll head out.”
I nodded again and he turned around and headed back to the tent. And Annabel.
I kept my focus on the quiet woods around us. Only the faintest sounds from the critters who awoke at night disturbed the peace, and even they were dampened by the thick cover of snow.
From the tent, I heard Annabel’s voice. She was murmuring, her pitch soft. Comforting.
My gut knotted as I imagined her arms wrapped around Bjarni, her dark hair tickling his skin as her gentle words soothed the loss of his familiars.
Just instincts.
There was silence again, save for a fox crossing a drift some yards away. It stopped to stare at me for a brief moment before it continued into the night.
Only when Bjarni’s soft snoring reached me some minutes later and my muscles relaxed did I realize I had been tensed in anticipation of them having sex.
I was not entirely sure what I would have done if they had—whether I would have quietly seethed with the knowledge that it was his right as her mate to lay with her whenever he pleased, or if I'd have given in to the primitive instincts roaring at me to rip the imposter off my woman.
Perhaps I'd have taken his place between her thighs.
I ground my teeth, irritated at my cock already rising to half-mast at just the thought of pressing inside the omega again.
Just instincts.
I refocused my senses on the forest around us and my mind on the upcoming battle. The only thing I needed from Annabel was her power.
All that mattered was bringing Loki to Valhalla, and then—hopefully—putting an end to Ragnarök.
Twenty-Three
Annabel
It was such a peaceful scene. Heavy flakes of snow fell from the sky in unending but tranquil flurries, highlighting the thick, white blanket embracing the log cabin in its clearing. Smoke rose from the chimney and warm light glowed through the windows, a perfect postcard in the middle of the apocalypse.
Seasons greetings from the God of Mischief, killer of ravens.
Father of the fucking year.
I clenched my hands into fists, determination steeling me against the cold. I’d changed into the feathered outfit Verdandi had given me back in Jotunheim, partly for the added warmth and partly because it made me feel strong enough to take on what lay ahead.
In the sensation of the subtle leather against my skin lay a reminder of the power that had awakened in me since my paths crossed with my Norse gods. Plus I was pretty sure Verdandi had woven some sort of warming spell into the stitches—though not even a Norn’s magic could fully negate the chill of the Fimbulwinter.
“Ready?” Modi’s voice was a whisper, but I heard my own determination echoed in it.
“Ready,” Bjarni ground out, and my heart gave an achy spasm for him. He’d lost so much, and his pain echoed in our bond. His lifelong friends, his father… and, as silly as it sounded to say of a centuries-old divine being, some of his innocence.
He wasn’t as irreverent now, and I couldn’t blame him. Being betrayed by your own parents came with a stain that wasn’t easily forgotten.
I pushed away the thoughts of my own parents and how they’d never told me about my family’s millennia-old debt. How they’d given me to the Lokissons as if I were nothing but some goods to trade. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Now was the time to collect what we’d come for.
Modi closed his hand around the back of my neck, and I focused on the well of golden magic rising up to greet him. Then he grabbed hold of it and pushed.
I raised my hand, allowing a beam of light to shoot from my palm and into the side of the cabin.
And just like that, the serene postcard was gone.
Cracks and screeches rung through the clearing as wood and glass splintered with enough force to hurl the remains to all sides of the clearing.
Again Modi forced my power out, and the roof of the cabin landed in pieces on the far side.
“Loki!” Modi roared. “Betrayer of Asgard! We are here to bring you to your trial. Surrender!”
A shadow moved in the debris, followed by coughing.
I blinked as a long-limbed man stumbled through the wreckage, the dust from the crumbled cabin hiding his features until he stepped out into the snow and straightened up.
Loki.
I recognized his face from Saga’s vision during our trials to enter Valhalla, divine beauty shining through despite the layer of dust covering his hair and clothes.
“Are you out of your mind?” His voice rung with authority, but was interrupted by a wheeze. He coughed again and glared at Bjarni. “You betrayed me? Me? I gave you life!”
My blond mate didn’t respond. He stood silently by my side, his sword ready.
“Surrender!” Modi repeated. “You are outmatched. We are bringing you to Valhalla. It is up to you if you want to face Odin in one piece.”
Loki laughed, a disbelieving sound that grated against my nerves. “I’m outmatched? And what do we have here? Two sniffling godlings and a human girl with a bit of juice? What ever will I do?”
I gritted my teeth. “We have more than enough strength to bring you to heel, Loki. Come with us willingly and we’ll help you escape once Odin’s released his prisoners.”
The god’s attention shifted to me, a chill running up my spine. There was so much otherness behind that gaze that it was impossible not to feel small and insignificant—and very, very human.
“So this is the prophesized omega I secured for my sons? Let’s have a look at you, daughter.”
Loki bowed his head, but kept his eyes on mine through the dark, dusty strands of hair shadowing his face.
Another chill wrenched my spine, sending a jerk through my entire skeleton, and then darkness surrounded me from all sides, blinding my sight and numbing my other senses.
“Hmm. You are strong, little bird. Perhaps you even have enough power to trick Odin himself. But you’re very raw, aren’t you? Just an inexperienced little lamb attempting to intimidate the God of Mischief in a last-ditch effort to save the day.
"I’m sorry, my dear. I’d rather not risk my neck on the off-chance that you can get enough control of your magic in time to help me escape the god-king before my untimely beheading. You’ll have to count me out of this little plan of yours.”
A whooshing sound made me stumble forward, followed by the sudden return of all my senses in one horrific kaleidoscope of sensation.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the brightness of the white-covered landscape. Only it wasn’t like it’d been only moments ago.
Eerie déjà vu filled me as I stared at the snow-covered ground, dread follow
ing in its wake.
“We have to get out of here,” I whispered, fear clenching my lungs too tight to speak any louder. “Now!”
“Annabel?” Modi asked, but his voice seemed to come from another plane.
“Run!” I shrieked. “For fuck’s sake, run!”
But it was too late. The powdery snow trembled below our feet, and not ten yards away a humongous, snake-like monstrosity broke through the surface, hurtling into the air.
It came back to me in all too-vivid detail: the vision I’d had in Verdandi’s cave—it was happening. It was happening now. I’d been wrong—it wasn’t Saga and Magni I’d lose to it.
It was Modi and Bjarni.
I didn’t think—the power rose from within me and out of my palms, crashing into the beast.
“Annabel!” Modi shook me, making my focus wobble. “Annabel, stop!”
I stared at the monster, Modi’s touch strengthening me even as naked fear squeezed my lungs. My magic had done nothing to the wyrm, its gleaming scales unmarked.
Once again I pulled power from the depths of my being and hurled it at the monstrosity, saw the ball of golden energy collide with it—and leave not so much as a scuff.
“Run! Run, I can’t stop it, run!” I shrieked, spinning around to reach for both men. I could lose them. They could die.
Two sets of large hands clasped my biceps, rooting me to the spot.
“Annabel, stop. Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real!” Bjarni shouted. “He’s the God of Mischief—he’s playing tricks on your mind.”
Tricks.
I shuddered, my alpha's words finally penetrating my terror.
“Annabel,” Modi said from my other side. “Come back to us—we need you. It is not too late to stop him.”
I blinked again, looking over my shoulder. The wyrm was gone, but two singe-marks on the ground free of snow showed where I’d hurled my magic at nothing.