Oathbreaker (The Godhunter, Book 3)

by Sumida, Amy

  “Would you tell me if I didn’t express my pleasure with you in a way you expected? Or would you just hope that someday we’d be close enough for me to understand all of your needs?”

  “Point taken,” I shook my head. “But there are things I can’t possibly know about and I’d rather you tell me than leave me to be surprised by them.”

  “In the future I’ll tell you,” he pulled me back down. “Right now I’d rather show you how much I desire you.”

  I smiled as he rolled over me. All that time and I’d believed Trevor’s bites were a primitive way of him marking his territory. I’d forgiven him because I’d assumed it was part of his wolf nature and Nature was a demanding mistress. Knowing that it was a display of desire put a whole new light on it. It was a hell of a lot more sexy than just being branded like a cow. It also explained why the female wolves had all smiled knowingly at me when they saw the bites he’d left. I guess I was destined to be a chew toy… a love chew toy. I could live with that.

  Chapter Four

  Tristan and Jackson came over for dinner on Wednesday night. Tryst and Jax were my gay power couple. They were also part of a select group of my human friends who knew about all this god stuff. They didn't know everything though, like, say, Trevor. I hadn't told them about my living with a werewolf. They knew Trevor was somehow involved in the god world but they didn't know specifics. So I had invited them over to break the news.

  Jackson was dressed in a crisp, pink, button-down shirt and expensive jeans. His dark hair was impeccably styled and his face was model-perfect. Tristan, on the other hand, had on a pair of well-worn jeans and a green T shirt which proudly announced that he had found Waldo. His spiky red hair was not a color found in nature but it set off his blue eyes perfectly. They were both from the South but the difference between New Orleans, Louisiana, where Jax was from, and Nellieburg, Mississippi, where Tryst was raised, was extremely apparent.

  Jackson handed me a bottle of tequila as they walked in but his eyes were all for Trevor. My wolf tended to have that effect on people. Jax looked him up and down as if he was giving him an internal rating. I was hoping Trevor scored a ten but his casual clothes might have brought him down a point or two in Jackson's opinion.

  “Tequila, huh?” Trevor took the bottle from me.

  “It's a favorite of mine and Miss V's,” Jackson explained. “You drink?”

  “Of course,” Trevor smiled his lopsided grin. “I love to have a few shots and howl at the moon.”

  “I'll get the shot glasses,” I gave Trevor a quick glare as I headed into the kitchen.

  “So you finally got our girl,” Jackson's voice carried over to me as I rooted in my cupboard.

  “Why do you say that?” I could hear a trace of amusement in Trevor's.

  “Well, last we met,” Tristan added, “you were merely auditioning. Looks like you landed the lead.”

  “Boys, really,” I came around the corner with the glasses. “Can we not give him shit?”

  The last time the boys had seen Trevor was when I'd just broken up with Thor. Trevor hadn't looked so good, having shouldered three days worth of my emotions, while he camped out on my porch, waiting for me to let him in. The boys had come to check on me, since I wasn't answering my phone, and found Trevor. That little stunt had endeared him to them and I knew this dinner would only seal the deal.

  “Don't worry about it, Minn Elska,” Trevor took a glass and went to the table. “They're just doing their job as your friends.”

  “Minn Elska?” Jackson frowned. “What is that, Scandinavian?”

  “Old Norse actually,” Trevor lifted a brow. “Very close, I'm impressed.”

  “What does it mean?” Tristan joined Trevor at the table.

  “My love,” Trevor said it so matter-of-factly, like Old Norse endearments were the norm.

  “Huh,” Jackson took a glass from me, tapped me on the nose with it, and lifted a brow.

  “What?” I followed him to the table.

  “He's charming in a rugged kind of way,” Jackson smirked. “Very Thom Gunn.”

  “Tim Gunn, you mean,” I reached for the bottle.

  “No, Thom,” Jackson laughed. “The poet not the Project Runway guy.”

  “Oh,” I shrugged, laughing. I glanced at Trevor, “Jackson's a poet.” I turned to the fridge. “You want a Cherry-Vanilla soda, Tristan?”

  “Sure.” Tristan's gaze lingered on Trevor. “You know, now that he's clean and fed, he kinda looks like Alcide. With those haphazard dark curls and all.”

  “It's a step up from Eric,” Jackson gave his quirky, twisted smile that he made when he thought he was being witty. Even if no one else got it. Especially if no one else got it. “Though Thor was pretty damn hot.”

  “Is this gay code?” I frowned as I handed Tristan his drink. “I've never dated an Eric. Or an Alcide, for that matter.”

  “Hello?” Tristan gasped. “True Blood? Alcide the werewolf and Eric the vampire.”

  “Well it took him all of three minutes to peg me,” Trevor shook his head and shot back some tequila.

  “Wait,” Jackson looked instantly suspicious. “Tristan was talking about your looks. What are you talking about?”

  “Uh, don't you guys want some lime with that?” I turned back to the fridge and pulled out a lime.

  “You think Thor looks like Eric?” Tristan was still on the True Blood conversation.

  “Actually no, Thor's got way more muscle,” Jackson impatiently waved him off. “But they're both blonde Vikings.”

  “Thor's actually a redhead,” I put the lime in front of Jackson on a cutting board.

  “He is?” Jackson cocked his head to the side as he thought about it. “The two times I've met him have both been in dim lighting.”

  “Oh who cares what color that ogre's hair is?” Tristan took the knife I was bringing to the table and began cutting the lime with angry thumps that had me concerned for his fingers. “He's gone and good riddance. You should never have gone back to him after the first time he made you cry.”

  “Vervain already copped to that one,” Jackson carefully took the knife away from Tristan. “But this last time, that's worthy of nasty name calling and I suggest we start with cretin.”

  “Oooh, me next,” Tristan clapped his hands. “Ummm... lickspittle!”

  “Cockaloram.” Jackson rebounded.

  “Ninnyhammer.”

  “Mumpsimus,” Jax raised an eyebrow at Tryst in challenge.

  “Trollfoot!”

  “Trollfoot? Really, Tristan,” I took a seat at the table and watched as my friends subtly checked out my boyfriend. “You need to stop with the Lord of the Rings kick.”

  “Oh trollfoot is not associated with Lord of the Rings,” Jackson was choking back laughter.

  “No?” I eyed their gleefully evil expressions.

  “Nope,” Tristan giggled. “It's when you grow your big toenail out really long and then you stick it up a guy's...”

  “Okay!” I stood up as Trevor turned shocked eyes to my friends. “That's enough, we get it.”

  “Saying he looks like Alcide is a big compliment, by the way,” Tristan nodded toward Trevor.

  “Thank you,” I slid back into my seat. “Sorry babe, you're about to be discussed like a piece of meat.”

  “Any time you want to parade me in front of your friends, I’m willing. You’ve done much more than that for me.” Trevor smiled at me over his shoulder.

  “Oh she has, has she?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. “What have you done now, Vervain?”

  “I don't even know where to start,” I ran a hand through my hair.

  The guys looked at each other, then Jackson poured a shot of tequila and pushed it over to me. “Start right there, shug.” The New Orleans really came out in his voice when Jax got intrigued.

  “Good call,” I shot back the drink and took a deep breath. “You guys now know what I do. You know I was dating Thor and you know generally why we broke up.” />
  “You killed his ex-wife,” Tristan nodded. “I don't know what the man was so upset over. Most guys would have thanked you.”

  “Yes, well,” I shrugged, “C'est Lavine. Such is my life.” Trevor smirked at me but true to his word, he let me handle telling the guys. “What I haven't told you, is at one point I was being hunted by werewolves.”

  “Holy shit, you're boyfriend is a werewolf!” Tristan stood up, knocking over his chair.

  “How the hell did you get there so quickly?” I waved back Trevor who was tensing up.

  “I said he looked like Alcide and then Jackson said Alcide was a werewolf,” Tristan picked up his chair but sat back down in one further away from Trevor. “Trevor said I'd pegged him. Am I right?”

  “He's not just a werewolf,” I smiled over at my man. “He's the eldest child of Fenrir, the Viking Wolf God.”

  “Is he related to Thor?” Jackson looked horrified and a little gleeful. “How white trash of you.”

  “We're not related,” Trevor was barely restraining his mirth.

  “Erzulie Freda be praised for that,” Jackson poured himself a shot.

  “So wait,” Tristan had finally backtracked to what I'd been trying to say. “You said they were hunting you. That means they're the bad guys.”

  “Werewolves are contract killers for the gods,” I sighed. “I know, not the best profession but Trevor's got out of the family business now by opening the club and he's hired a lot of the Froekn in an effort to get them out of the family business as well.”

  “In an effort to make you happy, you mean,” Trevor picked up my hand to lay a kiss on the back of it.

  “Wait,” Jackson held up an imperious finger. “Froekn? Old Norse again?”

  “Yes,” Trevor looked like he was starting to enjoy explaining his history. He probably didn't get a chance to do it very often. “It means Valiant. My father named us his Valiant Ones.”

  “How valiant is killing people?” Tristan muttered.

  “Very, in the Viking era,” Trevor smirked, “But my girl here doesn't approve, so I've given it up.”

  “So you guys are pretty serious,” Jackson was watching Trevor intently. “You living here?”

  “Yes, we're very serious,” Trevor practically glowed when he said it, which made Jackson's expression lighten a little. “At least I am.”

  “And yes, we're living together,” I clicked my glass against Trevor's and shot back the tequila. It burned when it hit my stomach and I gasped a little. “And you know how I feel about you, honey-eyes. You don't need to fish for compliments.”

  “Ooooh, groovy pet names,” Tristan was relaxing again. “Must be serious.”

  “We're bonded,” Trevor brushed my hair back. “Well, I'm bonded to her.”

  “Bonded,” Jackson frowned. “That doesn't sound good, V. Why didn't you tell us all this before, when we were urging you to do him?”

  “It wasn't my secret to tell and as far as the Binding, I've found it has its perks,” I winked at him. “But it is what it sounds like. Werewolves, like real wolves, mate for life. When a werewolf couple decides they're in love, they go through a ritual. One offers their life to the other, the other refuses, then the first denies the refusal. I know, confusing, basically you have to give your life to your mate and they have to free you three times before you've proved that you love each other enough to be bound forever.”

  “The Law of Three,” Tristan was a witch as well.

  “Exactly,” I nodded. “Trevor attacked me. I won but I let him live, so he vowed his life to defend mine. I refused it of course. I'm not down with the whole life for a life thing.”

  Jackson groaned, “So you started a magical ritual without meaning to.”

  “Correct,” I jabbed my finger in the air at Jackson. “Trevor figured his life was mine anyway and when I gallantly,” I smirked, “refused him, he decided to leave it to fate.”

  “Fate happens to love me,” Trevor laid an arm across my shoulders, “because twice more I offered my life to Vervain and twice more she refused it. Now she has a piece of my soul inside her.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Jackson rubbed his temple. “He's bound to you but are you bound to him?”

  “No,” I sighed. “The bond isn't complete. We're not even sure I could complete it, being human and all.”

  “So you’re married to a werewolf?” Tristan was starting to like the idea.

  “Not exactly,” I turned my attention to my empty shot glass.

  “I’m married to her,” Trevor jumped in. “She still hasn’t decided.”

  “You haven’t decided?” Jackson took a deep breath and poured tequila into my sad empty glass. “He's bound to you forever but you haven’t decided?”

  “It wasn’t like I had much of a choice,” I grimaced, hoping this wouldn't upset Trevor all over again.

  “And yet, here he is,” Tristan said it like it was something wondrous. He shared a look with Jax.

  “I just told you I had no choice.” I glanced at Trevor. “No offense, babe.”

  “Exactly,” Jackson pounced before Trevor could say anything. “And what do you do when you feel trapped?”

  “I bail,” I made a sound of self-disgust. “You’re right. I don’t like being backed into a corner.”

  “Vervain worries too much,” Trevor was annoyingly calm.

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Jackson shared a moment with Trevor. How sweet.

  I frowned at them both. “I just like to know where I’m heading, unlike you two lemmings who’d just follow everyone else over the cliff at a dead run.”

  “You should try it sometime, baby,” Trevor nuzzled my cheek. “It can be very freeing.”

  “Yeah for about thirty seconds, and then you hit the ground,” I muttered.

  “So you finally found a good man who’ll stick around forever but he’s not a man at all, he’s a werewolf,” Tristan snorted. “Go figure.”

  “Go figure what?” I narrowed my eyes on him.

  “The only good man’s a wolf,” he smiled, “well besides my man that is.”

  “Thank you,” Jackson said in a clipped, you're exactly right, kind of way.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I leaned back into Trevor. “All the good human men are gay.”

  “Yes, we are,” Tristan leaned into Jackson, who'd been lifting his glass.

  Jackson stopped, mid-lift, and glared at Tristan. “I've got a perfectly filled shot here and you're about to disrupt my meniscus.”

  “That sounds vaguely dirty,” I smirked, eying the trembling surface of the tequila.

  “Only you would use that word in a sentence while drinking tequila,” Tristan groaned and sat back in his own chair.

  “Hey,” I poured some for myself, stopping way short of creating my own meniscus. “At least he used it properly.”

  “There is simply no other word to describe the outwardly curved liquid surface of a glass of tequila,” Jackson huffed, then shot it back without spilling a drop. “Any other way would take too much time.”

  “That's how I feel about a few curse words,” I laughed.

  “Has Vervain ever told you how she hates it when people call her Vivian?” Jackson raised a challenging brow.

  “No,” Trevor looked a little confused. “Why would people call her Vivian?”

  “Oh, I love you,” I kissed Trevor on the cheek.

  “Because no one is named Vervain and people hear what they expect to hear,” Jackson was undaunted.

  “Leave my name alone,” I whined. “So my mother's a witch and she thought naming her daughter after one of the most powerful herbs in magic was a good idea. So what?”

  “Don't you mean leaf your name alone?” Tristan interjected.

  “Har, har,” I grimaced.

  “I think it's a beautiful name,” Trevor kissed my forehead and Jackson groaned while Tristan made his Awww face. “Besides, it's obviously worked.”

  Okay, so maybe I could get used to this Binding thing.
/>
  Chapter Five

  Thursday night I threw on some jeans and a tight black shirt, slashed in a few strategic places. Trevor drove me to Moonshine on the back of his Harley. Don’t ask me what kind, all I know is that it didn’t have those stupid looking handlebars that made grown men look like five-year-olds on their first tricycle. Concerning a bike, it was all I cared about. Oh, and that it ran. Though he sure did spend a lot of time tinkering with it.

  Seems to me that if you pay a lot of money for something, you shouldn't have to keep messing with it and spending more money on it. I’m told it’s all the vibrations on a Harley that makes things rattle loose so it needs to be fixed all the time. I say either improve the really freakin’ expensive bike, or people should just get a Honda… and by people, I meant Trevor.

  Trevor loved the bike though so I didn't pressure him too much about it. I just hated when he insisted on driving me somewhere on it because I secretly despised riding motorcycles. I'll never admit it because it just seems so uncool. Like I lose tough points for not enjoying riding around on a two-wheeled death machine that screws up my hair and prevents me from wearing a dress. Also, the wind hurt my face at certain speeds. Guess I'm not as tough as I'd like to think. I don't care, I like my Jaguar(yes, I still have Ku's car...Ku ku k'chu) so much better.

  We pulled around the back of Moonshine and parked in Trevor's reserved stall. It’s good to be the boss. Then we went around front to go in. There wasn’t a back door for Moonshine, just the Family Room for tracing in from the Aether. We could’ve traced in but Trevor really wanted to ride his pride and joy. So there we were, him happy and me having to undo my braid. It was the only way my hair would survive the trip.

  Oh right, tracing. So after consuming lots of energy from us, the gods grew powerful enough to create their own realm. This realm is basically laid over our own with the Aether running between us, kind of like a parfait. A parfait, not an onion, because parfaits are delicious. The only way to get to the God Realm from the Human Realm, is to travel through the Aether, an act referred to as tracing.

  When I first discovered the existence of gods, I also discovered a great spellbook, which explained tracing to me and listed numerous chants for specific locations in the God Realm. Certain places in the God Realm, such as a deity’s home, are fully warded and inaccessible without the proper chant. Ku's book gave me an in and I was able to sneak into the homes of gods. Also murder them in their sleep. I know it sounds horrible, pretty much because it is, but it was something I felt I had to do to save mankind. It's not like I enjoyed beheading Atlanteans. So I did it and the rest is, as cliché as it sounds, history.