I needed to know more about him. With any luck and God willing I would.
I left the museum at my usual time and headed for home, stopping for take out on the way. I was hungry, at least that was something. I slipped into my apartment and shut the door, I didn’t bother with the lights until I got into my little kitchen, and even then I just used the light above the sink.
I ate out of the carton, so lady like I know, but I didn’t feel like dealing with the dishes and it wasn’t exactly like I would be having house guests dine with me anytime soon… My thoughts drifted back to Alaric. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the Hell I thought I was doing letting a strange man with glowing red eyes into my bed at night, especially one as big and scary looking as Alaric was.
I packed my uneaten leftovers into my fridge and ditched my fork in the dishwasher’s silverware basket. I stretched and went in to take a shower, lighting the candles in my bedroom and bathroom. Candlelight was always soothing to me and with my head feeling as full as it did I wanted comfort, as much as I could eke out.
I showered, dried, slipped into my night gown and picked up my brush and began working it through my hair starting at the ends, a blur of movement in the hall, outside the bathroom door caused me to leap out of my own skin, a startled scream escaping my lips. I turned to see Alaric standing in my hall, he stood in his scale, his pauldrons and greaves were missing, as were his sword and shield. His boots were planted in my hall carpet shoulder width apart. A small smile played on his full lips.
“You startled me!” I was gripping the handle of my brush so hard my fingers were starting to hurt. I loosened my grip and drew a deep breath.
“I am sorry.” He said in that low bass rumble I was growing accustomed to.
I was staring, I know I was staring… but I couldn’t help it. He motioned towards me with his hand.
“May I?” he asked.
“What?” I asked and his lips quirked at the corner. He almost had to turn sideways when he stepped forward into the doorway of my bathroom as it was, the scales on the shoulders of his sleeves brushed against the wood of the doorframe making a rattling noise. He plucked the hairbrush from my nerveless fingers.
“Come.” He said and I hastily blew out the candles in my bathroom and followed his hulking figure into my bedroom.
He had set my brush on my bureau and was in the process of shucking out of the scale when I entered. It landed in a heap with a dull rattling thud on my carpet. He kicked it aside and held out his hand, palm up. I placed my smaller one in it and he gently tugged me toward the bed. I hopped up into it and he sat down, moving my thick wet hair into his leather clad lap. He gently began detangling the ends. I watched him utterly fascinated.
“Who are you?” I murmured.
“I told you, I am Alrekr Hakon Frithjof.” He continued to brush my hair and we sat in silence.
“That’s your name.” I said finally, then added, “Not who you are.” He stopped mid stroke and his face raised. Though his eyes were a solid red glow and it was hard to decipher where exactly he was looking at any given time I knew he was looking right at me. His brow furrowed and he reached out his index finger tracing the edge of the scale at the hollow of my throat.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“Found it.” I said, mouth suddenly dry. “After the first time you were here, is it a problem?” I asked. His eyebrows shot up in the other direction in surprise.
“No.” he answered shortly and resumed brushing. I had so many questions… but now that he was here I was loathe to open my mouth and spoil this. Whatever this was.
“Turn.” He ordered gently. I blinked at him in surprise and he gently took me by the shoulders and turned me away from him. He moved the brush onto my scalp and gently pulled and I let out a groan of pleasure. I’d forgotten how good it felt to simply have someone brush my hair. No one had done it since my mom had died.
“What is it small one?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I lied. The brush stilled…
“No one has brushed my hair since my mom died.” I said and he continued his ministrations, “I miss it.”
“Truth between us always Gracelyn. I will not have it any other way if I am to be your friend.” He murmured in that low voice of his.
“Okay,” I whispered, and in a moment of bravery added “That goes for you too.” He chuckled deeply and set my hairbrush down beside me. I turned to look at him but he grasped my shoulders and gently turned me away.
“I was not done.” He chided and I obediently faced forward. He started at one side of my head, picking up sections of my hair, weaving it with his long fingers. The silence swelled between us and I couldn’t take it.
“You said I was your charge, what did you mean?” I asked.
“I do not think you are ready to hear the answer.” His voice was husky and soft and I suppressed a shiver.
“What if I disagree?” she asked.
“I do not care.” He rumbled.
Oh. Well. Crap then. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him playing with my hair for a time.
“You said you would protect me from myself and those who wished to harm me, what did you mean?” I asked.
“You are persistent.” He was smiling. I could hear it plain as day.
“Yeah. I am.” I affirmed.
“To answer that question I would have to answer the first. You are not ready. Choose another.” Wow, okay then.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I do not know the measurement by your modern calendar.” He murmured.
“I’m not getting a lot of answers.” I pouted.
“No.” he agreed.
“Where does that leave us?” I mused aloud.
“I do not know.” He answered.
He fiddled with something at his hip and tied off the end of whatever he had woven my hair into. I murmured my thanks and turned and caught the tail end of a pleased look upon his face. He stood.
“Don’t go.” I said.
“I am not.” He pulled off his boots and put them near the rest of his things. He motioned with his hands and I scooted over towards the wall. He set my brush on my bedside table and looked down at me. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it by the bed. I looked him over and again, wow…
He might as well be chiseled from a block of white marble. He was all delicious masculine planes and angles and I quickly averted my eyes before I could be caught staring.
“Face the wall small one.” He muttered and my gaze flicked up to the severe red glow of his eyes.
His hands rested on his hips, and I slowly complied with his wish. I closed my eyes and listened as he stripped off his leathers. I went very, very still when he slipped between the sheets. He pulled me back against his chest and I relaxed against the heat of him. He was so warm. I turned over, his arms loose around me I rested my cheek against his chest, head cradled against his shoulder.
“Why isn’t this weird?” I asked. “Why aren’t I afraid of you?” He smoothed his calloused palm up and down my arm.
“I do not know… I should terrify you. Why do I not?”
“You’re scary.” I admitted, “But you’ve never hurt me, you’ve stated you are here to protect me. Should I be afraid?” I asked.
“Yes.” He answered and I grew uneasy.
“Sleep now Gracelyn.” He murmured against my hair, and no more was said…
Chapter 12
When I woke the next morning I used my little hand mirror to check my hair in the bathroom mirror and gasped with surprise. It was lovely, and intricate. Alaric had made several fishbone braids on either side and had woven them into a single fishbone braid that stopped at my mid back. My hair unbound reached past my ass so for it to be this short meant he had spent quite a bit of time and effort platting it.
It was beautiful and I didn’t want to take it out so I left it. It hadn’t frizzed uncontrollably as I’d slept so I washed my face, brushed my teeth and got ready for
work in gray slacks, a white blouse and an asymmetrically hemmed heather gray cardigan. I slipped my feet into black ankle boots with a sturdy heel and zipped them and pulled down my purse and pea coat. I turned back to my bed which I had neatly made and touched a finger to the scale at my throat. Shoving Alaric to the back of my mind I strode out of my apartment, locking it securely behind me, and to the elevator.
It was promising to be a long day and I still had dinner with Gunnar Volund to deal with, so you could imagine my surprise when my stomach gave a rumble of protest and I looked up to realized I’d worked straight through lunch. It was already six o’clock! I raced to my apartment and dressed quickly in a modest black dress that hung in a sheath to just below my knees. The bodice of the dress fit well and appeared to wrap, and had a v-neckline that didn’t disclose anything I didn’t want it to. It bore short cap sleeves and was the picture of professionalism while still looking nice. I paired the dress with black stockings and midnight suede four inch heels and called it good. I lined my eyes in smoky liner and mascara and even did a smoky shadow for good measure. Some clear gloss on my lips and I was ready to go.
As I stood back and took stock of myself in the mirror I looked towards my bedroom with a pang. I was going to be home late… I wondered briefly if he would be here when I returned but my machinations over Alaric were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. I checked the peep hole and discovered a stately older gentleman dressed as a chauffeur, I mean smart little cap, white gloves and all standing primly on the other side of the door. I silently fumed at the audacity of Jared… He’d even given Volund my apartment number! We would be having words tomorrow. I opened the door, purse on my shoulder and my coat in my hands.
“Ms. Adams?” The man’s voice was smooth and cultured.
“Yes.” I replied, and he gently took my coat from my hands holding it open. I shrugged into it with a slight blush and locked up my apartment. When I turned around, he turned smartly on his heel without saying a word and snapped out his elbow from his side in a clear indication I should take it. I slid my hand in the crook of his arm and we were off to the elevator.
This was a trip, even for me…
“What’s your name?” I asked as the elevator made its descent.
“Maximillian.” He replied.
“Should I call you Max?” I asked.
He shot me an imperious look and said, “I would prefer if you didn’t Ma ’dam.”
All right then. We walked to the waiting town car in silence and he opened the door. I climbed into the back and realized I had no clue where we were going.
“Excuse me, where are we going?” I called through the open divider. I received no reply. I swallowed hard as we moved into the flow of traffic. Fear bubbled in my chest and I asked again…
“Maximillian, where are we going?” I didn’t mean for my tone to come out as harshly as it did but I wasn’t fond of whatever game he was playing.
“We are going where Mr. Volund wills it.” Was his all too creepy reply. I texted Jared that he and I would be having a serious talk tomorrow. I didn’t even get so much as a “What’s wrong?” from him.
We drove to the heart of Manhattan and stopped in front of a rather expensive restaurant, one of those fancy must book a year in advance, over a hundred dollars a plate places… My nerves, already a bit frayed, frayed even more. Jared was right, this guy was loaded.
Maximillian opened my door and I slid out of the car stepping onto an honest-to-God red carpet at the curb. A man in a thousand-dollar suit stepped forward.
“Ms. Adams.” He greeted in a severe tone.
“Yes?” I squeaked. The guy was imposing and it had nothing to do with his size, though he stood a head above me. His blonde hair was in a short buzz cut so close you could see scalp. He wore black wraparound sunglasses and had one of those clear plastic coils behind his ear running down into the collar of his jacket.
“Come with me. Mr. Volund is expecting you.” He turned and walked into the restaurant. The door held by a door man in a deep green bell-hop type uniform complete with the round fez-like hat. I followed the man and swallowed hard. He was clearly some type of security type and I was beginning to wonder exactly what Mr. Volund did for a living.
The table was small, a four-seater but tucked into a back, dimly lit corner of the restaurant. Intimate was a good word for it. Mr. Volund rose from his seat and nodded to the security man hulk thing and he stood aside to let me pass.
“Mr. Volund.” I uttered and attempted to school my face into concealing my anxiety.
“You are upset?” he asked as I took his hand to shake and I grimaced. I was a shit actress. I had never perfected the art of keeping what I was feeling off my face, out of my eyes.
“This whole experience has been highly irregular.” I stated and cheered inside at how professional I sounded.
“Please, sit.” He pulled out the chair beside his, not across and I noticed the table had been set that way, and only for two. He dismissed his body guard who stood facing out into the restaurant at the edge of our little alcove. I took off my coat and hung it and my purse on the back of the chair before taking the proffered seat. I let him push the chair into the backs of my knees considering there really was no way of avoiding it when a man helped you with your chair and I didn’t want to wave him off to do it myself, no need to be rude when I was sort of at his mercy
“Mr. Volund I really would like to know why I am here.” I stated as he took his seat across from me.
“You are upset,” he repeated, then asked, “Why?”
I held my breath and twisted my lips and looked him over. I wasn’t entirely upset with him, more at Jared and, well, the truth was the golden path to walk by my grandfather always said.
“This is New York,” I stated, “I’m upset at my boss for just giving out my building and apartment number to someone I don’t know, I’m upset at your driver for refusing to tell me where he was taking me and I’m upset at myself for not being more cautious and demanding answers before I agreed to any of this.” Volund sat back in his chair, blue eyes sparkling, he was smiling at least.
“I will speak with Maximillian on this, as for Mr. Worth, I do not think there is anything I can do there… My sincerest apologies for not knowing the custom in regards to this city.” His voice was heavily accented, something Scandinavian I’d bet. I felt a little bad…
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with Jared. I’m sure it just escaped his mind, I would have liked to have the option of meeting you here rather than, well, you know.” I dropped my eyes to my water glass.
“As for why you are here,” he leaned forward, “When Mr. Worth sang so highly his praises about your work on the project I simply had to meet you, I did not expect you to be so…” he waved his hands in my direction.
“So what?” I blinked in confusion.
“Beautiful.” He stated and I blinked again. I never thought of myself as beautiful, ever. I always thought I was quite plain, someone easily lost in the crowd.
“Uh, thanks…” I said taken aback.
“I wished to get to know you, as well as about the project you work on, I take a deep interest in what it is you are doing in Scotland.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I believe that you may have found the last raid of my ancestor.” He leaned back but his gaze on my face was no less intense than it had been a moment before.
“I don’t even know how we would prove that.” I said.
“My ancestor was a great Viking, ruthless and as the old histories are told, died upon a distant shore to the West. When I heard of your team’s discovery I took a vested interest, especially when I heard the age of those discoveries.”
“Let me guess, during the time your ancestor supposedly lived.”
He inclined his head, “I am willing to donate money to further your research, if you were to find proof of my ancestor’s involvement in this raid I would be willing to donate substantially more.”
&
nbsp; Well, Hell, he was willing to donate. That was a start. I don’t think he had any idea that the condition of his continued monetary involvement was pretty much impossible. Very rarely did we get specific names associated with anything we found, usually the historical site in question had to be pretty obviously a part of a story of some renown for that to happen.
I mean sure, you found things like specific names associated with things older than our Viking find, but those were usually extremely well preserved, like the burial chambers of the Pharaoh’s or the villas of Pompeii. This was various assorted weapons, armor, small trinkets and yes, bones preserved in mud, and dirt… corroded, indecipherable. I chewed my lip and contemplated my sword.
“Okay.” I said, “Every little bit helps. If you donate I can promise the money will be put to good use, what I can’t promise is that we will find anything on your ancestor, and that this was indeed a part of his or her raid. That he or she had anything to do with it.” I looked at him as food was placed in front of us, wine poured.
“If you do find something I wish to be the first to know.” He said as I unfolded my napkin into my lap. I was suddenly starving.
“I can’t promise that.” I said, “Those types of assurances would have to come from Jared… Mr. Worth.”
“Understood.” He raised his wineglass and I raised mine, clinking glasses we sipped. The wine was good, sweet and floral with just a hint of bite.
“Tell me about your ancestor.” I tried what was on my plate and died and went to heaven. Now I knew why this place was as exclusive as it was.
“He was a ruthless man, the first born son of a great king. His name meant all powerful high son, his surname was given to him… it meant peace thief, for that is what he did. He stole peace from the lands to the west, to the east, and even from the neighboring kingdoms of his own lands. He was a passionate warrior known for his extraordinary cruelty. It is said that he would spend days raping and pillaging through a town, his raids were the stuff of legend. He left nothing behind but a blackened ruin, rivers and streams ran red with blood, those that tried to oppose him on the shore, well the tide would be thick with the remains of his enemies and it too would surge with blood.”
Heaven, Hell & the Love In Between Page 5