by Nick Harrow
“God, yes,” Gunnar sighed. He opened his eyes and looked down at Bridget. She was wreathed in steam from the shower, and the humidity had soaked through the concert T-shirt she’d swiped from Mimi. The cotton, emblazoned with the Tesla Great Radio Controversy tour logo, clung to Bridget’s breasts. The shirt was short on the taller woman, revealing the taut lines of her stomach and the curves of her hips above the pair of ratty jeans that sheathed her legs.
Bridget didn’t look away from Gunnar’s appraising stare. Her mismatched eyes urged him to keep looking, even as she traced the ridges of his bruised abdominal muscles with the dagger-like tips of her black fingernails. Her hand drifted lower, fingers spread wide as if to feel every inch of Gunnar’s stomach. “I talked to Ray,” she said. “About what happened before you came in for lunch.”
It took a few seconds for Gunnar to find his way back to that time. It felt like he and Ray had enjoyed each other a hundred years ago, rather than a handful of hours. His memory of the time leading up to the shootout at the Mirage was fuzzy, but he remembered the fun and games he and Rayleigh had shared. “She told you about that?”
Bridget did look away then, her eyes dropping to the shower’s soapy floor. She caught her lip between her front teeth and rocked it back and forth while she debated what to say next. “She didn’t have to.” She took the time to choose her next words carefully. “I knew it would happen. I saw it all like a movie in my head.”
Her nails lightly grazed the trail of blond hair that led from Gunnar’s navel down to his groin, then kept right on heading south. Bridget’s hand slid around the bodyguard’s stiffening, soapy length, gently scraping her nails along the sensitive skin. She didn’t look up until Gunnar’s cock had risen to the challenge, filling her hand with throbbing muscle.
“Just like I saw this,” she said. Her breath blew tiny whirlwinds in the steam from the shower. “I talked to Ray about us. We belong together, Gunnar. We’re bound to one another.”
Gunnar tried to imagine that conversation. He was surprised Bridget was still in one piece. Ray wasn’t jealous, exactly, but she wasn’t much for sharing, either. “And what did she say about that?”
Bridget released Gunnar and stepped back from the shower. She crossed her arms, took hold of the shirt’s hem, and pulled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. The wet material clung to the smooth, heavy globes of her breasts, concealing them from Gunnar’s hungry gaze until gravity won out and they bounced free. Tattoos adorned the pale skin around her belly button in ornate knotwork, and a matching piece drew his attention to her cleavage. Her nipples, hardly darker than her skin, jutted up from her breasts to catch beads of water that splashed off Gunnar.
“What do you think she said?” Bridget teased. She unbuttoned the top of her jeans, then paused with her fingers on the zipper.
“You’re still here,” Gunnar said with a throaty chuckle. “So I guess she agreed.”
Bridget’s fingers tugged at her zipper’s tab, revealing a creamy slice of skin between its teeth. She moved agonizingly slowly, her hips swaying gently to a song only she could hear. Her eyes drifted closed, a faint smile tugging the corners of her mouth up into a sweet smile. “She knew it was meant to be. We’re your völva,” Bridget said, her words lilting along to a haunting melody that Gunnar could almost recognize. “It’s our job to help you grow stronger, and yours to do the same for us. Intimacy reinforces that bond. It lets us share our power in ways we couldn’t otherwise. And, even if it wasn’t for that...you intrigue me. I want to be with you, if you want to be with me.”
Bridget closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, snowy white had replaced their warm honey and deep blue fire. When she breathed out, her breath was so cold it turned the shower’s steam back to water droplets that splashed down her chin and dribbled between the slick slopes of her breasts. Her tattoos lit up as the water slithered across them. The last teeth on the zipper parted to reveal the sleek contours of her naked folds, and the damp jeans slid down the lean lengths of Bridget’s thighs to puddle around her ankles. She stepped out of them and into the shower, her mouth slightly open, coils of steam rising from her skin. Her nails had become the same bone white as her eyes and hair, and they drew a hiss of surprise from Gunnar when she pressed their tips against his skin.
“You’re freezing.” He said, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shhh,” she insisted. “Let the cold do its magic.”
She cupped his face in her hands, so gently all Gunnar felt was the cold soaking into his flesh and bones. He shivered, but Bridget’s touch stole away his pain and spurred the hamingja to do its work faster. Gunnar felt his wounds closing, his bones knitting, in the space between every heartbeat. When she released him a minute later, the worst of the damage he’d suffered was well on its way to healed.
“That was incredible.” Gunnar flexed the fingers of his shattered hand, amazed that the bones and muscles were almost back to normal. “How did you do that?”
“I didn’t,” Bridget said with a soft smile. “I showed your body what it was supposed to do, and the hamingja did the rest. It helps that I can see what you’ll look like when you’re healed, just a little.”
“Why are you so cold?” Gunnar asked.
“The future is winter,” Bridget whispered. One of her hands headed below his beltline again and closed around him. The dot between her eyes leaked soft purple light. “But not all of me is frozen.”
The contrast between the steamy water and Bridget’s cold skin triggered a vision in Gunnar’s mind. A pale woman lying naked in a snowbank beneath the green glow of the aurora borealis, her wideset hips and muscled thighs open in a wanton greeting. The urgent words that spilled from her mouth were in a language Gunnar had never heard, but he understood what she wanted just the same.
Gunnar’s other hand grasped Bridget’s muscular ass and lifted her up onto her tiptoes. She was a good foot shorter than him, but that still gave her most of a foot on Ray. It would take some effort, but Gunnar was confident he could make the geometry work. He lowered his face to hers and their mouths collided, hungry for one another. Bridget’s icy breath was a refreshing jolt after the shower’s humidity, and Gunnar drank her in. Their tongues danced over one another, demanding fire and yielding ice, and Bridget lightly nipped at his lips as if eager to devour him.
“I don’t do this,” she whispered when they parted. Her snow-white eyes probed Gunnar’s blues. She wrapped both of her cold arms around the back of his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.
“I know,” he said and lifted her higher.
He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. Bridget had given herself to Gunnar, and he understood it wasn’t an honor she bestowed lightly. He shivered as she pressed herself tighter against him, her hand working him with long, slow strokes that magnified the hot-and-cold sensations of her touch under the water. He held onto her with both hands and raised her until their eyes were level, his strong fingers kneading the firm muscles at the backs of her thighs. They kissed again, eyes open, gazes locked. The tip of Gunnar’s aching cock brushed against Bridget’s swollen lips. His hips twitched, lining their bodies up, animal heat pushing back the winter chill still wafting from her pale skin.
“Not like that,” she whispered, her lips brushing up against Gunnar’s. “We can’t. It’s not time.”
Bridget shifted her hips forward and hooked her ankles around the backs of Gunnar’s legs. She released him to part the seam of her sex, then ground the sensitive skin between its wet folds up and down Gunnar’s length. At the top of her strokes, she arched her back and thrust a stiffened nipple at his face.
The bodyguard closed his mouth over the pale pink nub, swirling his tongue around it. She tasted clean and fresh, cold as mountain snow. Gunnar yearned to bury himself in her, to dampen the fever that engulfed him in her soothing depths. Instead, he leaned back and let her slip and glide over him, his heart pounding like thunder as her pace quickened. He lifted his
mouth from her steaming skin, and Bridget pulled him back for a hungry, desperate kiss. The tension of everything they’d experienced built between them, stretching their muscles taut as they strained for release. Their mouths parted as they gasped for breath, hips pumping, bodies slick and sliding against one another with an urgency that wouldn’t be denied.
She lowered her head to his shoulder, the cold breath from her moans brushing past his ear. Her eager panting quickened as she used one hand to pull his cock tighter against her. She alternated the motion of her fingers and hips, up and down, down and up, her cold somehow coaxing greater heat from Gunnar. The world faded away, leaving them alone in a cocoon of sensation and need. They moaned in unison, their bodies straining to be closer, to feel more. Bridget’s bucking hips suddenly stiffened, her hand clamped around Gunnar, and she cried out, her voice sharp and clear as a hunting hawk’s.
Warmth flooded through Bridget’s body, and her juices gushed across Gunnar. She held onto him, squeezing, stroking, her body still sliding along his length. Bridget’s tongue darted along the side of Gunnar’s neck, swirled around his earlobe. She whispered wordless demands to him, urging him to let go, to revel in the pleasure of her body.
“I want all of you,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
“Not yet,” she said with a wistful sigh. “Soon, but not yet. Believe me, I want it as badly as you do. But I can’t create the future and see it. And, right now, you need my vision more than that part of me.”
Her hand pulled him into a frenzy, her every move exactly what he needed, even if it wasn’t quite what he wanted. He let himself give in at last and exploded into her hand, the hot, sticky spurts spraying across her stomach only to be washed away by the shower. She held onto him, pumping the last of his seed through her fingers, until there was nothing left for Gunnar to give.
Bridget drew herself up with an arm around his neck and looked down at Gunnar. A healthy flush had returned to her face, leaving her cheeks the pale pink of cherry blossoms. Violet light poured from her forehead, bathing them both in its strange warmth. “Thank you,” she said. “I think we both needed that.”
“You can say that again,” Gunnar agreed. “Now I need to sleep for a few days.”
She shook her head, the long rope of her wet ponytail slapping against her shoulders. “There’s something else we have to do first.” She hesitated, and the white glow returned to her eyes. “I’ve seen what has to happen now. I can help you. If you trust me.”
Gunnar couldn’t look away from Bridget. There was something ethereal about her, an otherworldly beauty that entranced him and grew more powerful by the moment. The bond they shared was so powerful it took his breath away. It was hard to believe that he could feel so strongly for anyone he’d practically just met, but there was nothing rushed or false about his feelings. He cared for Bridget nearly as much as he did for Ray and knew she felt the same. “I trust you,” he said.
“Okay.” Bridget took in a deep breath as she untangled her limbs from his and lowered herself to the shower’s floor. “Leave the water on, this part is messy. And painful. But when it’s all over, you’ll be good as new. Better, even. But you have to tell me you’re willing to make the sacrifice.”
The bodyguard didn’t need any more pain in his day, but he leaned back against the wall of the shower and let his arms fall to his side. Bridget’s words were powerful. They spoke to a truth he’d glimpsed on that rooftop with Odin. She would guide him to the next step on their journey. “I’m willing to make a sacrifice,” he said. “Do it.”
Bridget’s hand darted to Gunnar’s face. An icy blast of pain speared through his right eye as the daggers of her nails plunged into the socket. Gunnar felt their sharp tips scrape against the bone behind his eye. He groaned as the bones of the shattered socket shifted around Bridget’s fingers and something gave way inside his head with a wet snap.
“Ugh, that was grosser than I thought it would be,” Bridget said, her lips twisted into a frown. “Almost done.”
Gunnar’s good left eye stared at the gory mess in the woman’s right hand. She held his eyeball, stringy bits of nerve fiber and muscle tissue dangling from its back side. “What. The. Fuck.” Each word burst from his lips, a pained gasp.
Bridget threw open the shower’s door, kicked the toilet lid up, and dropped Gunnar’s eye into the bowl. While he bellowed a protest behind her, she leaned out and grabbed the gold necklace off the soap dish above the sink. With a quick tug, she yanked the Valknut free of the jewelry and turned back to Gunnar with the stone held between her index finger and thumb. “It’s okay,” she said. “Almost done.”
“You took my fucking eye,” Gunnar groaned.
“No, you sacrificed it,” Bridget replied, an enigmatic smile playing over her lips. “And now our new lives can truly begin.”
Bridget pushed Gunnar’s head back against the wall with one hand, pinning him to the cold tiles with her body. Her other hand pressed against the ruined hole where his right eye had been moments before. She uttered a string of nonsense syllables, her breath soothingly cold against his ruined eye socket.
Pain, as pure and blinding as a bolt of lightning, shot through Gunnar’s head. His muscles went stiff and his teeth clicked together as the stone settled into its new home inside his skull with a sound like grinding boulders.
“There is one test remaining,” Bridget whispered. “But I know you’ll pass with flying colors. Remember us, Gunnar. We’ll help you.”
Gunnar’s world disintegrated, its seams tearing apart to reveal a dark and twisted landscape. Something dangerous moved through the shadows out of his sight, a creature that smelled of smoke and blood and roasted meat.
“Hello there, lover,” it said. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Hyrrokkin. We have so much to discuss.”
Chapter 11
GUNNAR’S HANDS AND jaw clenched as the jötunn who’d spoken to him emerged from the shadows. She was taller than he was, and the rack of twisted antlers that rose from her head like a crown added another two feet to her height. Green flames burst from the ground with every step she took, illuminating her path. The uncertain light revealed her stark and unyielding beauty and statuesque body. Her proportions were flawless, her face so perfect it was difficult to look at. Despite her attractive form, though, she repulsed Gunnar. It wasn’t the smoldering patches that shifted across her skin or the luminous vertical pupils that split her eyes.
No, what Gunnar hated was the cruel twist of her lips, the chaotic malice he sensed brewing in the witch’s cauldron of her heart. Even if he hadn’t accepted Odin’s quest, this creature would have been Gunnar’s enemy.
She was the burning woman he’d seen outside Corso’s villa. The one the jötunn had wanted to give him to in exchange for power.
“Cat got your tongue?” the jötunn asked. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
Puffs of smoke gusted from her mouth with every syllable she spoke, hiding slices of her face behind little black clouds.
Gunnar’s knuckles popped, and his stomach tightened into a ball of rage. He wanted to storm across the ashy plain and strike Hyrrokkin down. But his head still throbbed, and his muscles felt weak and clumsy. The Valknut was a cold weight in his eye socket. He couldn’t touch its power, though. Whatever transformation Bridget had started, it was far from complete. Until he had a better measure of his foe’s strength, the bodyguard would have to play it safe.
But that didn’t mean he had to be nice.
“I’m not wasting my breath on you.” Gunnar shrugged. “Talk if it makes you feel better about yourself.”
Hyrrokkin’s laugh tore through the darkness like the screeching of an entire colony of hunting bats. The sound gouged at Gunnar’s ears as it dragged on for long seconds. When the jötunn finally let the laugh die, her eyes burned with unholy mirth. She brushed silver hair back over her blue shoulders and continued her approach. She stopped a few yards away from Gunnar and brazenly appraised him with
her lion’s gaze. “Yes, you’re just what I need. Come on over here and fill my snatch with that snake dangling between your legs. Our babies will be beautiful monsters. The world shall tremble when they crawl from my bleeding slit.”
“The sight of you makes my balls want to crawl back up into my belly,” he scoffed. The words he spoke seemed familiar and strange. This wasn’t the first time he’d hurled these insults, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember saying them before. “And your stink would curdle my seed before it took root.”
“Rude,” the jötunn said. Her lips, black as coal and glistening like ice on pavement, twisted into a frown. “You should be nicer to me. I went through a lot of trouble to get you here.”
“Fuck you,” Gunnar spat.
Hyrrokkin waggled her finger at Gunnar. She clucked her tongue, and the fires beside her belched smoke into the sky. “I gave you that opportunity,” she said with a smirk, “and you turned me down. Not a smart move on your part. Men have died for a chance to satisfy my lust. Women, too. It has taken me years to twist events in your world to bring us to the momentous decision before you. You should be more gracious considering what I offer.”
The Valknut throbbed in Gunnar’s head. Icy tendrils wormed their way out of the stone and into his flesh. Jolts of electricity spread through his body, bringing strength back to his muscles. Bridget had been right; the Valknut wasn’t just restoring him. It was rebuilding him. When it finished its work, Gunnar would be stronger than ever. But he didn’t know how long that would take or how long he could hold his temper in the face of the smirking jötunn’s taunts.
“Ah, you’re the strong, silent type,” Hyrrokkin said. “I like you, Gunnar. Let’s not fight. Join my army. It’s what we both desire. If you prove yourself worthy, you could rise to the very top. There’s nothing in this world you couldn’t have.”