by Angela Foxxe
“There’s a... person, who owes me a favor. He may have the power to stop this, or he may not, he’s kind of unpredictable like that. Last I heard, he was in South Dakota, and since we’re running out of time, and you can’t fly, we're going there now.”
“What can he do?”
“I know you’re having a hard time with this Reign, but he’s powerful; he’s not anything I can explain, you have to see it for yourself.”
Reign leaned back, trying to get comfortable in the seat. The vehicle had all the options so she was able to recline her chair, turn on the heated seats, and relax, as much as she could, anyway. Richard flicked a button on the steering wheel and the sounds of the violin filled the cab.
“Thank you,” she said with a sleepy smile.
“Let’s get through this. Then you can thank me.”
It was a long drive to South Dakota, and Richard would get no sleep until they were done.
*
Reign dozed off and on as they drove. The seats were comfortable, and once she took her seat belt off, she was able to stretch out and relax. While her body felt better, her mind wandered to the issue at hand. Were her dreams an indication of what was to come? She felt a twinge in her mind, something outside of her own self. As she slipped into sleep, a chill ran down her spine, as if she were being watched.
It was cold where she was standing in the snow, her body wrapped in furs and leather. She wasn’t pregnant. She knew she was supposed to be, but in the dream, everything was as it should be.
She looked around; it was a village of some kind, of huts covered in snow, with chimneys on top, and stacks of wood out front. She made her way to her home, she didn’t know how she knew it was hers, just that it was. Inside was a fire pit with a large pot of stew cooking. Bending over it was a man she didn’t recognize, but in the dream, she knew he was her husband.
He was dark haired, with a grizzly beard, he couldn’t be much older than herself. When he spoke, he had a deep voice with an accent she didn’t know. How could she not know? It was her dream after all.
“Ahhh, my lovely, you’re home,” he said with a smile. “How was your journey?”
“Fruitful,” she heard herself say. “I sold all the crops at the market, and Rurik even made a commitment to buy our next harvest.”
In her dream, this all made sense. Her husband’s farm was barely hanging on, raiding that summer had not paid out much, and the farm was all they had. A big grin spread across his face, he rushed to her, swept her up in an embrace, and kissed her. Tender at first, soon his kiss turned to passion. She felt his warm lips spread her own, and their tongues touched, her spine shivered and her heartbeat could be heard in her ears.
“This is wonderful,” he said, breaking their embrace. His hands, however, were still around her; one had made its way inside her tunic and was resting on the small of her back. The warmth of his touch sent little tingles down her back and legs.
“It’s only wonderful if we celebrate. Now, stop stalling,” she said. Had she said it, though?
Something felt wrong.
It’s just a dream, a pleasant one, considering the circumstances.
Distantly, she reminded herself that it had been over a month since any physical touch had turned her on. The last stages of pregnancy were almost unbearable.
As he stripped her tunic off, Reign saw herself in the room’s mirror; it wasn’t her. She was tall, blond, and with large hips and full breasts. Her cool blue eyes reminded her of the sky in winter. This was a dream. Convinced of that, Reign let go. Her husband led her to the bed, kissing his way to her stomach as she lay down. He pulled down her breeches, covering each leg with more kisses that sent goosebumps all over her skin.
She reached down and grabbed his hair, luxuriating in the feel of it between her fingers. She led his wandering mouth to her inner thigh. He ran his hands over her legs, the friction creating heat in the cool room. His fingers glided over her stomach, then down to her soft pubic hair that acted as a gateway.
He gently slipped his finger between her moist lips. The moan came to her unbidden, it felt like electricity racing up her body; her stomach knotted and her breath came in shallow pulls.
Unconsciously, she pulled his head to her pussy, encouraging him to explore. He did, his tongue slipped from his mouth, lightly touching her, gently massaging her folds, before slipping into her. Her scream echoed in her ears as the heat of his tongue mixed with her insides, she rocked her hips forward while pulling his head into hers.
Her breath was lost as her heart pounded; every nerve of her body was alive. His mouth found her most sensitive area, while his fingers worked her insides, until she couldn’t take it any more. It started slowly, then it hit her like a hammer; her orgasm built from her very core, before it released out into her body.
She froze, her back arched, her muscles unable to move, her breath wouldn't come, and when she couldn’t take any more, she screamed, moaned, and sighed, as her whole body shivered from the pleasure.
“Oh gods, you do that well,” she said breathlessly.
Wordlessly, he climbed on top of her, his thickly muscled body sliding up hers, creating heat with every inch. She moaned as she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders. She felt his hardness pushing against her. A sly grin spread on her face. “Oh, yes please,” she sighed. He rubbed himself against her, sliding up and down but not entering. She writhed with pleasure, she needed more. “Please,” she whispered.
“As you wish,” he said as he forced himself into her.
They both grunted, and didn’t move for a long moment. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her every nerve frozen, savoring the feeling of being so very full. Then he started, slow at first but his rhythm picked up as she encouraged him with her groans of pleasure. A fire started in her belly, one only he could quench. It spread out from her core to her limbs, then over her skin and then crashed back down into her. She screamed as an orgasm like no other burst forth, her vision faded, she could not hear, all she could do was feel him in her. Her awareness slowly returned, she could feel him on top of her, his every breath vibrating her.
“We keep doing this and I’m likely to get pregnant,” she said with a warm smile.
“Reign, you are pregnant.”
The sudden intrusion of reality on her dream sent Reign bolt upright. She jumped up so hard, her head hit the roof of the SUV. Startled, Richard slammed into the parked car next to him. They were in some sort of shopping center.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to rub away the memory of the dream. Her stomach fluttered and she was hot under her clothes; no dream had ever affected her that way before.
“You okay?” Richard asked her.
“Yeah, just, uh, weird dream,” Reign said.
“We’re here. Are you ready?”
“Here? Where, we're in the middle of nowhere.”
Reign looked around as she got out of the SUV. The parking lot was full, but everything after the small one-story shopping center was flat and barren.
“Welcome to South Dakota, home of one of the largest Norwegian groups in North America.”
Reign hastily put her dark hair in a ponytail, wiped her face and tried to shake the memory of the powerful orgasm she experienced in her dream. It was as if her whole body was aching for the touch of someone who didn’t exist. Richard helped her out of the SUV, the memory of the dream faded and the reality of being almost ten months pregnant crashed down on her.
Everything was swollen, her joints, her stomach, her face, she did not feel sexy, and that faded the dream even faster. By the time Richard had her out of the vehicle, and helped her through the icy parking lot, the dream was all but gone.
The outside of the shop was quaint, painted in gold and red, the faded sign had a Vikings helmet and a long boat, the name of the shop proclaimed it, “Erik the Viking's Coffee and Cake”.
“Your friend works in a coffee shop?”
“He owns it actually, he loves coffee, has ever since th
ey brought the stuff over to the old world.”
Reign was familiar with the Viking motif, her mom, after all, was from Norway, and while she inherited her skin, eye, and hair color from her Hindu father, she got her bone structure and shape from her mom, if not her height.
For the last ten months, even a little before that, Reign actively avoided coffee shops, after all, she was from Seattle, the world coffee capital. They served it in the schools, there were more coffee shops than churches, and Reign loved the stuff. African roast, Brazilian, the fresher the beans the better.
She used to wait down at Pikes for the small shops to get in their fresh shipments straight from Columbia. Every week she would curl up with a book, and a fresh cup of coffee made from fresh beans. And now, Richard brought her to a coffee shop, it was a nightmare.
Inside was much more modern and clean than the outside appeared. A small bar in the back was where the barista prepared the drinks, a glass display next to it had fresh looking treats -- mostly donuts. A few tables, but mostly just lounge chairs, filled the room.
A huge screen TV dominated one wall, silently displaying the news. There were a few patrons, mostly people killing time before work.
Richard left her on a comfortable couch, the kind she would need help to get up from, and went in search of his friend. Two of the customers ignored her, the third, a woman, gave her dirty looks.
It’s not like I lit up a cigarette, man, I’m just in a coffee shop, chill out.
The smell was glorious, she closed her eyes and enjoyed it, the first thing she was going to do was drink a cup of coffee once the baby was born. Well, not the first thing, but it was high on the list. That thought brought a smile to her face.
“Well aren’t you a pretty thing, dearie.” A familiar voice interrupted her merry thoughts of coffee beans.
She opened her eyes to see who spoke to her. He was a tall man, not particularly thin, or heavy, with shoulder length black hair, and a face that was full of sharp angles. His eyes, though, something about his eyes...
He was the man from her dream.
Her face heated from the memory of the dream, her body reacting to it so strongly she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
“I see you remember me, how nice,” the man said.
“You two have met?” Richard asked. He was next to the man, just as tall, much more muscled, but somehow, standing next to the fellow, Richard didn’t seem as big, or as imposing.
What is going on?
“How...?” Reign managed to get out before she had to gulp for air. Richard was there with a glass of water, hand on her back to sit her up, attentive and kind as ever.
“Always the knight, eh, John. Some things never change,” the man from her dream said.
“It’s why you chose me, isn't it? Honor, courage, loyalty,” came Richards reply. Did Reign detect a note of sadness in his voice?
“I didn’t choose you, as you know, but nevertheless, here we are.”
“Reign,” Richard said to her, “this is Loptr, he’s an acquaintance, and he owes me a favor, so he can help.”
“I cannot, you’ve wasted your trip.”
“What? No, I don’t know you from Adam, but if Richard says you can help, than you can, so do something, I don’t have much time.”
He turned back to Reign, a smile on his face. “Okay, dearie, so you have spirit, it wasn’t just in the dream.” He smiled at her.
Reign could not meet his gaze, or Richard’s either, so she just looked down, and the mix of shame and embarrassment colored her face and made her supremely uncomfortable.
“How...” She didn’t know how to ask how he did what he did; had it been real?
“No dearie, it ‘twas but a dream, you see,” he said as he knelt down in front of her, his hand hovering over her belly. “There is magic in the world, old and mostly forgotten, but it exists.” As he spoke, a soft blue glow emanated from his hand and illuminated her belly.
“It’s a girl, but you already knew that, she’s got your mother’s spirit, and for that I’m glad.”
“Who are you?”
Richard had remained strangely silent, almost as if he deferred to this man, but Richard was an Alpha, a wolf in charge, he deferred to no one.
“I spoke the truth, John, the magic my children have used is strong, I cannot break it,” he said, the blue light winked out, his demeanor and tone changed so abruptly it caught Reign by surprise.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Richard asked him, almost pleading.
“She is strong of spirit, maybe.”
“I’m right here, talk to me, and why do you keep calling him John?”
“You chose well,” the man said with a smile.
Richard sat next to Reign. He had the look he got when he was gathering his thoughts. He was never quick to anger, or to speak, so his emotions, while on the surface, did not boil. Even the two or three times they had argued, he’d never once raised his voice to her.
“Reign, the wolves, my people, we were created through magic. Our father, his name was Fenrir, and this is his father; his name is Loptr, some people know him as Loki.”
Reign’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“You see, dearie, the world is much stranger than you thought.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Like in the movie? God of tricks and all that?” Reign’s mind attempted to grapple at the idea of Norse gods alive and well on Earth. The rational part of her brain, the part that told her werewolves were some sort of biological infection, and that vampires couldn’t be real, rejected the idea of the man.
“I love those movies, don’t you? Yes, something like that, though the details are very different. Lets just say, dearie, that the modern idea of Asgard, of the Norse gods, sprang from a source, and I, and my ilk, are that source. I know it’s a lot to swallow, but I’m sure you can adjust,” he said with a sly smile.
“How did you get in my dream?”
That got Richard’s attention. “You entered her dreams? That’s dangerous; you shouldn’t have risked it without asking.”
“Tsk tsk boy, I had to know, either she was Fade capable or not, and if not, then there would have truly been nothing I could do. As it is, I can only help her do what needs to be done.”
“Okay, okay, stop, both of you, you're acting like I know what either of you are talking about. Someone, anyone, start from the beginning, give me the Cliffs notes version, and fill me in.” Reign stopped being in awe of what and who she was talking to, and started to get more annoyed than anything else.
“You see,” Richard started, “a long time ago, around the time of Charlemagne, the protectors of the Norse were concerned that their people would be subjugated, so they created guardians, men and women who could take on the identity and appearance of Fenrir, to protect them.”
“‘Twas a good plan, too bad they forgot the number one rule of magic,” Loptr put in with a smile.
“Magic? You mean like hand wavy, Gandalf the Gray, magic?” Reign asked.
“Something like that; even Tolkien knew. You see, dearie, magic, real magic, the kind that changes lives, for good or ill, always comes with a price. And the men and women who volunteered for Fenrir’s blessings, well, they paid that price.”
“A lot of us died from the bite; of those that lived, well, many went mad. A few of us, though, we made it through. We were forced to put down the ones that were dangerous, but by the time we could control what we are, enough to do any good, it was over. The people who still believed in us were all dead; we had no one to defend.”
“Wait, you’re one of the original... but you said around Charlemagne... how old are you?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was some lecherous old man, or a braggart, I just wanted you to love me as much as I love you,” he said, his cheeks turning ever so red.
“Oh, Richard, or John, or whatever, there is no way I could love you less, I can only love you more.” She reached out to him, pulled his h
ead to hers, and kissed him, and in that kiss she put all her love, all her warmth, everything she had that was special to her, and she gave it to him. She felt the splash of tears on her face as his mixed with hers.
“How touching, you make me sick,” Loptr said playfully.
“Now listen, the both of you,” he continued once she had stopped kissing Richard, “you can enter the Fade, Reign, that is what the dream was about, but I must warn you, its danger cannot be understated.”