I blinked at the reverent tone that Gunnar Volund used in describing what sounded like a monster. I chewed silently as he continued.
“It is said no one and nothing was safe from him, not man, woman nor child and that he wore the skulls of infants on his belt. Nailed the faces of men on his shield. He brought glorious spoils back to his father and made great his reign.” Gunnar was smiling and I was feeling a little ill, how could someone idolize such a creature? I hardly think it even appropriate to classify him a man.
“That sounds…” I hesitated and finished with, “…awful.” Volund laughed at my sour expression.
“He is who I wish to be in my business.” He speared a piece of meat with his fork and ate it.
“What is it that you do?” I asked.
“I am in banking.” Was his short reply.
“Ah…”
We ate in silence for a time, but all that good food had turned to ash in my mouth as I turned over what he’d said in my mind. Well if he wanted to be like his ancestor, then I was pretty sure I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
“What of you Ms. Adams?” he asked.
“Please, call me Gracelyn.” I said more out of politeness than anything.
“Then I must be Gunnar to you.” He smiled and I returned it as best I could.
“What do you mean Gunnar?” I asked.
“Why this project?” he asked.
“Honestly it’s the same reason I undertake any project. There’s a forgotten story to be told, which must be told. Nobody deserves to be forgotten. Everyone has a legacy and the stories of their lives should be told to future generations, history is how we keep from repeating our mistakes. It’s what makes our future brighter. History is how we attain immortality. By the deeds we do in life, by the lessons we leave behind, by the stories we tell.” I folded up my soapbox and resolutely stuffed it away before I embarrassed myself with my ranting.
“You are passionate. That is a good thing.” He nodded once. I couldn’t help but smile.
“There’s passionate and then there’s overzealousness, be grateful I could stop myself or you would have to put me resolutely into the overzealous freak category.”
He laughed and it was a rich warm sound. We finished our meal and departed, when we stepped out of the restaurant there was a sleek gray 1940’s Rolls Royce idling at the curb. A driver who was not Maximillian opened the door and ushered us inside with a gloved white hand.
“I too have a love of history, and fine old things.” Volund said as he slid in behind me.
I don’t know why I couldn’t think of him as Gunnar, maybe it was too personal. I liked to keep my work and personal lives as separate as possible. The car pulled smoothly into the flow of traffic.
“I return to Denmark next week.” Volund was saying, “I would like to call you from time to time.” He searched my face and I am sure found the reluctance I was feeling there.
“All right,” I finally agreed. “I will give you any updates I can on my progress.”
He pursed his lips, plaintively unhappy with my response. He took my hand in his and I stiffened marginally.
“I would hope that we could speak on more than simply your work. I have enjoyed my time with you tonight.” I smiled, warmed by the compliment, but all I really wanted to do was escape this luxurious car for my bedroom so I could see if Alaric was there.
“Dinner was fabulous, thank you so very much for both it and your contribution to our project.” I remained stubbornly obtuse to his advancements. His smile became slightly feral and I felt chilled.
“I shall deliver the check tomorrow.” He kissed the back of my knuckles and let me go. His driver opened my door.
“Good night Mr. Volund.” I said, mouth suddenly dry.
“Gunnar, please. I like the sound of my name on those lips.”
I scooted out of the car and simply nodded, heels clicking a sharp staccato at my hasty retreat. I let myself into my building but the silver Roll’s didn’t depart until I stepped onto the elevator.
Chapter 13
I closed my apartment door and leaned heavily against it, securing the deadbolts and chains. I turned into my dark and silent dwelling.
“Alaric?” I called softly.
I waited several moments and my heart fell a little at the lack of response. I went into my bedroom and sat on the end of my bed, prying the heels from my feet and rubbing them. I set them in the bottom of my closet and went to work slipping the dress back on its hangar, and ditching the rest of my attire in the laundry. I tugged on my robe and hung a clean nightgown on the back of the bathroom door. I went into my dark living room and curled up on the end of the couch, beginning the laborious process of undoing the intricate braids in my hair. Which was hard as Hell doing it blind when you couldn’t see how it went in the first place. I was growing frustrated when warm gentle hands covered my own, stopping me mid motion.
“Let me.” His voice was molten metal, liquid and beautiful. My shoulders eased out tension I hadn’t realized they’d been holding.
“What troubles you?” he asked, and before I knew what I was doing, I was confiding in him.
“My boss volun-told me to go out to dinner with a prospective investor to try and get money for our project. Just gave the guy my address and apartment number without even asking me if it was okay.” Alaric’s hands stilled a moment before resuming unplaiting my hair. I stopped speaking, waiting for him to say something.
“Go on.” He urged quietly.
“The guy is interested in our project, thinks it might have been one of his Viking ancestors, told me about the guy.” Alaric’s hands went to my shoulders, and simply rested there.
“The guy sort of creeped me out is all, said he wanted to be like his ancestor, ruthless and cold. Then went on to tell me he’d like to call on me. I told him I didn’t mix business with my personal life and he got this look,” I shuddered, “Like challenge accepted! Made me uncomfortable.” I whispered the last. Alaric’s thumbs dug gently into my tense muscles and I gasped, eyes sliding closed my head dipped forward to give him better access, I sighed in contentment as he kneaded between my shoulder blades gently. He stopped and went back to undoing my hair, combing his fingers through the long, long strands.
“You are safe here. With me.” He said finally.
“I know, thank you.” I said and was grateful.
“For what?” he asked.
“Being here.” I shrugged, “For listening…” I tilted my head way, way back and looked up at him. He was shirtless, his leather pants riding low on his hips, that delicious vee marking out his hip bones disappearing into the black leather. Hs red eyes, as unreadable as ever stared down into mine.
“You wish to shower?” he asked.
“Yes.” I said softly.
“Go.” His voice was sharp, but gentled when he added, “I will be waiting when you get out.” And he backed out of my field of vision. I got up and rolled my neck feeling a bit better. I went into the bathroom. He was in my room, lighting the candles… with his finger tip. I stared mystified for a moment until he said without looking…
“Gracelyn…” drawing out my name in his low bass rumble. I went into the bathroom and flipped on the light and shut the door, but not before I saw him flinch, shying away from the electric glow.
Were his eyes sensitive? I pondered this, hanging my robe on the hook beside my nightgown. I showered and dried my hair in record time, braiding it over my shoulder down to my hip. I shrugged into the black silk nightgown which fell just above my knees, the soft material catching on my skin here and there. The spaghetti straps held it in place over my modest chest and I turned this way and that to make sure nothing was going to spill out, suddenly self-conscious. I turned out the light and opened the door, walking into my bedroom.
He was in my bed, blankets bunched at his waist. Boots and pants folded neatly between my closet and my dresser. My cheeks heated, and he patted the side of the bed between h
im and the wall a slight frown furrowing his brow.
“What?” I asked looking down at myself.
“I do not like you in this.” He waved his hand up and down, and I was frowning. I crawled up the bed as modestly as possible and he lifted the blankets for me to get under.
“You are a creature of the light,” he was saying, as he pulled me against him. “What you have worn the last few night suits you better, you should wear whites and creams, colors of the sun and your pure nature. Not black. You are not like me. You should never wear the mantle of darkness.” I looked up at him not sure what to say, I had never received a compliment so beautiful and at the same time so backwards in my life.
“Uh, noted…” I said, “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself Alaric. I don’t think you are a bad person. You’ve ever been kind to me…” he scoffed, a sharp and derisive noise full of bitterness.
“I am the worst kind of person, small one. The very worst. Now sleep if you are tired.” He slid us down so that we were comfortable for sleep.
“I don’t think you’re so bad. I bet you never wore the skulls of babies on your belt.” I muttered sleepily into his chest and I swear he flinched at my words. I frowned and tried to raise my head to look at him but his hand pressed me down firmly, yet still gently to his chest.
“Sleep.” He urged, lips moving in a caress against my forehead, and I did.
Chapter 14
I ground my teeth in frustration at Jared.
“I don’t see the problem here,” Jared was saying, “You live in a secured building.”
“Except that didn’t stop Volund’s creepy ass driver from knocking on my door Jared! My lobby door locks but people piggyback in all the time! Just don’t give out my apartment number ever again! It’s all I’m asking. Building address, fine, cell phone number also fine but never, ever hand my apartment number out no matter how many dollar signs are circling your head!” I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. Jared looked taken aback.
“You think I would compromise your safety over money?” he asked, frowning.
“Sure feels like it.” I said and felt a little guilty at his crestfallen expression.
“Gracelyn, I don’t know what to say.” He put his hands on the hips of his light Dockers, and looked down at his loafers.
“Say you won’t give out my apartment number to random investors.” I said. He had the grace to look embarrassed.
“I won’t give out your apartment number to anyone ever again. I’m sorry. I owe you an apology. Let me make this up to you?” he was looking hopeful, I grew instantaneously suspicious.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Let me take you out for drinks tomorrow night.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Jared, I don’t know…” I began, and he popped his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and letting out a gusty sigh.
“Okay, well consider it both and apology and a celebratory drink then. Strictly professional.” My brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Why would we be celebrating?” I asked.
“Because Volund Equities just donated five hundred thousand dollars to further our research.” He smiled, a huge grin, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Five hundred thousand?” I repeated.
“Single largest donation yet, I don’t know what you said Gracelyn but it must have impressed him a whole hell of a lot.” He was smiling ear to ear, polishing a lens of his glasses on the tail of his white oxford shirt.
“I think he wants to try and date me or something,” I said. Jared frowned and opened his mouth to say something.
“I shot him down,” I continued before he could say it, “Told him I’d be happy to keep him appraised on how things were progressing with the project. I don’t mix business with my personal life, ever.” I gave Jared a pointed look and shivered internally when he gave me a look entirely too reminiscent of the one Volund had given me as I exited his fancy car the night before.
“Of course.” He said and the tone was patronizing at best. I nodded and turned on my heel, going back to my bench and to continue the delicate work of removing that which obstructed the raised runes on the hilt of the Viking sword perched there. Could it be a name? How weird would it be if it was? How exciting would it be if it was? I sat down and pulled on gloves, coming up for air long after everyone else had gone home. I had two full runes uncovered and it looked as if there may be more.
I stretched the kinks out of my back and quickly wrapped things up and hurried home. I wanted to see Alaric, you can imagine my dismay when I approached my apartment to see the sleek Rolls Royce idling at the curb.
Gunnar Volund himself exited the back with a bouquet of lavender roses in his large hand. His tailored suit framed by an expensive looking camel hair trench coat. I swallowed hard and stepped forward, keys in my hand at the ready, though what he might do on a busy sidewalk I didn’t know. He came forward with the flowers and held them out to me.
“My sincerest apologies.” He said, and I furrowed my brow.
“For what?” I asked, making no move as of just yet to take the flowers.
“I was under the impression I made you uncomfortable last night, it was not my intent.” He held out the flowers again and I sighed, taking them.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.” I smiled.
“Would you allow me the privilege of taking you to dinner again, before I return to my home country?” he asked, his eyes roaming my face, searching it for answers.
“I will have to think about it.” I said, “Though I have to say, I am extraordinarily grateful for your generous donation to our project.” For that, my smile was nothing but genuine. A smile curved his lips in response to mine.
“I will call you by phone at the beginning of next week, yes?” he asked.
“Sure, that would be fine.” I assented. He inclined his head and got back into his car. I watched it smoothly pull away from the curb and enter traffic. I quickly entered my building and went upstairs, locking my apartment behind me.
I turned on my kitchen light and found a vase for the roses, filling it and adding the little packet of food that came with them. I spent several minutes arranging them and set them at the center of my little four person dining table. I skipped dinner, showered and dressed for bed, anxious to see Alaric, hoping he would appear. I dried my hair, braided it swiftly and pulled on an ivory satin nightgown with white lace edging the hem. It was a halter style and left my back exposed to the dents in my back just above my ass. I contemplated putting something a little more covering on when I heard the rattle of his scale armor in the bedroom. I went in as he straightened from shucking it off.
He looked me over, raking those dimly glowing red eyes over me. I crossed the toes of my bare feet over each other beneath the hem of my nightgown and tried not to fidget. He seemed pleased.
“Better.” He affirmed.
“Hello to you too.” I breathed. He looked at me and cocked his head to the side, considering.
“Apologies small one.” He said. I went to the bedside lamp and stopped at his sharp intake of breath.
“What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder. His eyes remained firmly on my exposed back but he said quickly:
“Do not turn on the light.” I straightened and turned to him.
“Wouldn’t you like to see better?” I asked.
“I see perfectly well. Gracelyn please…” I stepped away from the lamp and the candles in my room flared to life as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“Why no lights, does it hurt your eyes?” I asked.
“No, I do not wish to explain it.” He took off his boots, first one and then the other.
“You do not wish to explain a lot of things.” I crossed my arms and he stilled a slight smile curving his lips.
“Ask me a question.” He stated dryly.
“Where do you come from?” I asked.
“My encampment.” He answered and I
blinked.
“Your encampment.” I repeated and he nodded, reaching for the thong securing his leather pants. I straightened to my full height and he smirked, undoing the leather. I kept my eyes on his which I swore were laughing at me as he deliberately unlaced first one side then the other.
“What did you mean you were protecting me from myself?” I asked and I was surprised that he answered me this time.
“Did you not find yourself on your roof?” he asked, “Did you not cut your own wrist?” I dropped my eyes to the fat rectangular band-aid on the inside of my left wrist. The damn thing itched horribly and the stitches were to come out tomorrow at my doctor’s.
“Yes.” I murmured softly, and looked up as he peeled out of his form fitting leather pants. I stopped breathing for a moment, I was sure of it. I quickly looked back into his eyes, blushing furiously. He was smiling from ear to ear, enjoying my awkward discomfort which ticked me off a little.
“So you’re here to keep me from sleep walking.” I said.
“After a fashion.” He murmured and lifted the covers, ushering me in.
“What does that mean?” I asked, crawling over to my side of the bed.
“It means I am here to make certain that the other side plays fair.” He got into bed with me and turned on his side to look at me, propping his head on his hand.
“Wait, back up… you’re really confusing me.” I said.
“I am,” he agreed, inclining his head. I frowned at him and was rewarded by his deep rumbling laugh.
“Tell me,” I urged, then added “Please.” He laid flat and gathered me to him.
“There are two sides to everything. Light and dark, good and bad, heaven and earth…” he paused and I thought for a moment he wouldn’t continue, but then he did.
“You are familiar with the concept of Heaven and Hell are you not?” he asked. I simply nodded, I had been raised Catholic, so I knew.
“You know of the constant battle between light and dark, yes?” he asked and again I nodded.
Heaven, Hell & the Love In Between Page 6