Howl for Me td-3

by Dana Marie Bell

  Howl for Me

  ( True Destiny - 3 )

  Dana Marie Bell

  Jeffrey Grimm s grandfather, Odin, tortured and nearly killed his twin sister. He s on a mission to return the favor. To get the job done, he needs the world's oldest living laser-hair-removal candidate: Fenrisulfr, the werewolf prophecy has decreed will kill Odin at Ragnarrok.

  When he gets to Norway, though, he discovers the wolf can change into a man a man so sexy that Jeff is blindsided with lust. And, despite his blood ties to Odin, Fen wants him with equal ferocity.

  An attraction to the blood kin of his oldest enemy? Fenris figures he must have been caged far too long. Yet as soon as the magical phrase that frees him leaves Jeff s lips, Fenris has no choice. He is bound to protect Jeff at all costs, even if it means giving up his hatred of the man who betrayed him and learning to live with the horrors of toothpaste and the Internet.

  Odin isn't through with him, though. And when he gets his hands on Jeff, Fen calls upon everything within him to fulfill the prophecy... even if it means his own death.

  Warning: This book contains explicit male/male sex, graphic language, a redhead with a temper and the ultimate werewolf. Caution, drooling may be an unfortunate side effect.

  Howl For Me

  True Destiny - 3

  by

  Dana Marie Bell

  Dedication

  To Mom, who fell in love with Charlie’s new miniature daschund. You know you want one. Dad’s going to come home and find you cuddling it, and he’ll be helpless to say no.

  To Dad, who doesn’t complain too much when we critique his local wine collection. Yes, it does take the whole bottle for your children to make sure it’s good.

  And to Dusty, who thinks I’ll eventually get over my obsession with BioWare games. You poor, deluded man. That’s like saying I’ll eventually get over my unholy love of M&M’s.

  Prologue

  Long ago…

  “No.”

  Odin held up the third set of bonds with what Fenris assumed was supposed to be a guileless smile. Fenris knew better. Odin smelled wrong. He always had and Fenris suspected he always would. “But surely this bond will be the easiest of all to break.”

  He’s lying. Odin’s stench had intensified. Fenris eyed the whisper-thin thread Odin proposed to test him with. He’d broken the last two bonds Odin had placed upon him, but he grew weary of the game, and Odin seemed far too pleased with himself.

  “No. The game grows old, and my patience thin. Find some other way to amuse yourself, Old Man. I refuse to be your toy for the day.” And Fenris curled up once more beneath the tree and closed his eyes, content to drowse in the afternoon sun.

  “Afraid, oh mighty wolf?” Odin’s voice drifted to his ears and tempted him to comply with the god’s wishes.

  But Fenris was the son of Loki and no one’s fool. Odin was up to something and all the honeyed words in the world would not lure him into giving the Old Man what he wanted. “Go away, Old Man, unless the thought of my teeth in your flesh grants you pleasure. Then, by all means, remain.” And he wolf-grinned up at the god, pleased by the hint of fear he saw.

  “But Tyr would be pleased to see your strength once more.”

  Fenris glanced over at his foster-father, the one being he trusted more than any other, even his wayward father. Loki had placed him with Tyr in the hopes Odin would spare him the way the god hadn’t spared his brother and sister. He knew that, but at times his father’s avoidance still hurt. The best thing to come of that had been his relationship with the man he respected most in the world.

  Whatever Tyr wished, Fenris would do his best to provide. “Tyr?”

  Tyr smiled at him gently.

  “Perhaps he’d be more willing to play my little game if he has some reassurance, eh, Tyr?”

  Fenris tilted his head, wondering where Odin was going with this. He had no desire to play the game, but if Tyr requested, he’d gladly show his strength once more.

  “Since you fear such a flimsy, thin rope so much, Tyr will place his sword hand between your jaws. If for some reason you find you cannot free yourself, simply close your jaws on his wrist and we will release you.”

  He didn’t trust Odin’s words, but he trusted Tyr’s. “You promise?”

  Tyr stepped forward and held out his hand, palm down, his expression gentle, loving.

  Fenris laughed and allowed the gods to bind him.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  “Jeg er din forlovede, behage spiser ikke meg. Og spiser ikke Tyr, den ville ergre din ny moder. ”

  “Again.”

  “Jeg er din forlovede, behage spiser ikke meg. Og spiser ikke Tyr, den ville ergre din ny moder. ”

  “Good.” Logan Saeter, pain in the ass extraordinaire and Jeffrey Grimm’s brand-new brother-in-law, sat back in his chair with a smug grin. “Just say that to Fenris and everything should be fine.”

  “What does it mean, exactly?” Because he’d really rather not tell a giant, hand-eating wolf that his breath smelled like a baboon’s ass. Knowing Logan’s penchant for practical jokes, he might be teaching Jeff to say just that.

  “That’s not something you need to worry about. It’s a code Fenris and I came up with to let him know it was safe, to trust the one I sent to release him.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” If Jeff were the one bound he’d jump at any chance for release.

  Logan snorted, amused. “Why would he? Grimm is more than capable of trying to trick him.” Logan stood and stretched, the taut muscles of his body nearly causing Jeff to groan. If Jeff didn’t find the other man so annoying he’d be perving all over him.

  Well, perving over him more. Logan was in a relationship with the other hottest man Jeff knew, and he might have made a play for them both, pain in the ass or not, if it weren’t for Jordan. Logan and Kir adored his older sister and Jeff would never do anything to hurt her, serious gay hotness or not.

  Surrounded by luscious man meat and I can’t have a taste of any of it. It’s enough to depress me. Oh well. Jordan’s happy. That’s what counts most. He tried to stare down Logan, aka Loki, the Norse God of Mischief and Fenris’s father. “You’d better be telling me the truth.”

  “Trust me. The moment you tell Fenris those words he’ll be eating out of your hand.” Logan walked out of the study, nodding to an incoming Travis on the way out. “He’s all yours.” The evil chuckle he gave as he closed the study door did nothing to ease Jeff’s fears that he was the butt of one of his brother-in-law’s infamous jokes.

  Travis slipped into the room. “We’re ready. You?”

  Jeff nodded and grinned at his twin sister, Jamie, standing just behind her one-handed lover. After a brief freak-out at being loved by a god, Jamie was settling in surprisingly well. It helped that she’d picked up some new tricks of her own along the way. “Hey, vixen.” Jamie smiled at the nickname only Jeff used for her. “Wanna go to Norway?”

  She fingered the earring Logan had given her and grinned. She swore she could feel magic flowing through it, but Jeff couldn’t sense a thing. He’d have to trust her. She’d been what Logan called an instinctual mage before sharing blood with Travis and Logan. Now, his twin sister was a goddess in her own right.

  He had a matching earring in his own ear. Logan had sworn it would keep Odin and his magical ravens, Hugin and Munin, from finding them. Something about wards and counter-magic that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever but had both his sisters and his brothers nodding in approval. Thank God his ear had been pierced for years. He’d seen what Logan had done to Magnus and Morgan to get the earring in. His brothers had screeched like little girls tossed into cold water.

  The wusses.

  “More than.” J
amie’s arm went around Travis’s waist, her new radiance stemming from the strange magic that now flowed through his twin’s veins. The love on her face for Travis was obvious, as was Travis’s devotion to Jamie.

  For a brief moment Travis’s whole body glowed, but the God of Justice got it under control before Jeff had to cover his eyes. “Let’s head out, then.”

  He followed the pair out of Jordan, Logan and Kir's condo and headed toward his own. It was strange, really. Only a short time ago he’d been nothing more than one of the private investigators employed by Guardian Investigations.

  His parents had been human—or so he thought—his family, normal. Then his grandfather, Oliver Grimm, had kidnapped his twin and tortured her and Jeff’s world had fallen apart at the seams. Lies and betrayals, myths and legends now filled his waking thoughts and his every dream. His father was Thor, God of Thunder and son of Odin. His grandfather was the psychotic ex-leader of the Norse gods, the Aesir and Vanir. His older brothers, his uncle Val, even his once sweet but flighty grandmother were all gods, and had lied to him from the start.

  His older sister had fallen in love and married Loki, the baddest of the bad boys, and Baldur, a god who was supposed to be dead. She was now carrying a pair of twins fathered by both men. And his twin had gone and fallen in love with Tyr, God of Justice and Jeff’s boss, and they were off on a merry jaunt to free the world’s oldest laser hair removal candidate.

  He was still trying to decide whether to laugh or scream. He was leaning toward both. Maybe then they’d give him some nice happy pills and he could check out of this ongoing nightmare. He’d snap back into reality where his grandmother wasn’t a super-bitch and his grandfather wasn’t a psychopath. He hadn’t touched anything apple since his last conversation with his grandmother, who’d made it clear that he was no longer welcome in her home since he’d accepted Jordan’s relationship with Logan.

  Jamie waved her hand and the front door of his brand new condo opened.

  He still couldn’t believe he was living in a million-dollar-plus condo in the heart of Rittenhouse Square. He’d been able to make the rent on his last place, but only barely. Now he had a place people would kill for, rent-free. Jamie giggled as the door stopped just short of slamming into his wall. “I didn’t hit the wall!”

  “Good girl.” Travis leaned down and kissed Jamie’s neck, earning another giggle.

  “Good God.” Jeff shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

  “It’s easy.” Jamie waggled her fingers at him. “Wanna try?”

  He shuddered. Just the thought of having magic woo-woo powers freaked him out. He was much more of a hand’s-on type. Hell, when he played World of Warcraft he always went for the paladin, warrior or death knight, never the mage or warlock. He’d much rather beat the bad guy with a huge metal stick than throw fireballs. “No thanks. One of us needs to stay sane.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and sauntered out, very much in charge of her little world. Jeff met Travis’s amused eyes and followed his boss out, locking the door behind him. Before he pocketed the key he stared at it, the wolf’s head gleaming in the hallway light. For just a second, he felt as if the wolf winked at him.

  Jeff pocketed the key and ran after his twin, eager to end this once and for all. If they were right, freeing Fenris would be the start of something that had been coming for a long time, something he’d never thought he’d wish for so vehemently.

  Movement. Sound where there shouldn’t be sound. Fenris lifted his head as best he could and stared at the mouth of the cave. Save for seagulls and crabs he hadn’t had a visitor in quite some time.

  Mayhap, finally, his father had found the one to free him. He prayed for the day when a stranger would walk in and utter the words his father had taught him, changing the Norse he’d grown up with to match the modern Norwegian language. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had been to his lonely prison, but Loki had promised him that soon, soon he would be free.

  If Odin entered the cave, then only pain would be his lot this day. Odin’s visits were few and far between, but Fen had learned that when Odin came, Fen had a truly bad time. However long Odin chose to stay, the results were the same—more agony than Fen had once thought it possible to survive. As near as Fen could tell Odin would stay for days before his need to inflict pain was spent.

  Time tended to blend when you were chained alone in a dark cave.

  Pain was his companion every day, but Fen had almost grown used to the agony of the sword through his jaws. Barely able to eat, only the water dripping from the cave walls easing his thirst, if he hadn’t been born of Loki he’d have been long since dead. But he healed over and over and over again, his body trying to repair the damage the sword and bindings and unending hunger did to him every day.

  Fen wished he could place his betrayers in his place. Let them feel the icy burn of the sword, the unending pressure-pain of Gleipnir around their limbs.

  “We’re here.”

  Fen growled. He recognized that most hated of voices. Perhaps he’d come to lose another hand?

  “Wow. It stinks in here.”

  A light, female voice with a touch of power behind it. Fen cringed. Had his foster-father brought a witch? To what purpose?

  “Jayzus, Travis. You sure know the great vacation spots, doncha?”

  Everything in Fen stilled. That voice… Something about that voice made body parts throb that hadn’t in centuries. But oh, it was such a good hurt!

  Three figures stepped into the cave. One was all too recognizable, the powerful light surrounding him doing nothing to hide his warrior’s build. One was a slender female with flaming, curly hair and a glow similar to Tyr’s.

  Another Vanir then, one of the Lios Alfar. Which one, Fen didn’t know. He didn’t recognize that bright head of red, riotous curls or the vivid, radiant green eyes.

  But the third figure did not glow. He was all human.

  All delicious.

  Fen kept his gaze locked on Tyr, but all of his senses were focused on the flame-haired man who approached him, hands at his sides, palms open to show he held no weapon.

  “Jeff? What are you doing?”

  Fen knew the words. His father had spoken to him in English often enough for Fen to ken their meaning. Even Odin had taken to English when visiting Fen in his cage. Jeff must be the flame-haired man’s name.

  Gods, he smelled good. He smelled sweet, like cinnamon, and Fen had a powerful sweet tooth.

  The man smiled, and Fen felt his heart lurch. “Jeg er din forlovede, behage spiser ikke meg. Og spiser ikke Tyr, den ville ergre din ny moder. ”

  Fen whined. Did the man just say what he thought he did? Fen tilted his head, ignoring the pain any movement inflicted on his jaws, and sniffed the man once more. If he could have grinned he would have. Yes. Yes, he did, and Fen was going to hold him to it. His father had done it, done the impossible.

  He’d found Fen’s mate, and soon Fen would be free.

  Tyr choked, and the man lowered his arms. Fen allowed him close, listening to the mutters and curses that flew from his mate’s mouth. “He’s got sores all over him, Travis.” His mate sounded angry, his hands moving over the bindings with a confidence that pleased Fen. Fen whimpered, the best he could do with the sword through his jaws. His healing ability constantly dealt with the damage inflicted every second by that sword. The sores were a result, his body unable to cope with even minor infections. Still he lived, though at times he had wished it weren’t so.

  No longer. His mate had come, and Fen would follow him to Helheim itself if he so desired. He longed to lick Jeff, taste his skin, see if he was as delicious as he smelled. It soothed Fen, that scent, made the agony bearable.

  “Travis, we have to get the sword out.”

  Travis must be the name Tyr went by in the human world. Loki had told him all about moving among humans as one of them. His father had even taken a human name—Logan Saeter. His lover, Baldur, h
ad slid into the name Kiran Tate, and together they’d made a life for themselves.

  Fen didn’t resent them. He should, but he didn’t. His father had cried over his bound form too many times for Fen not to know how much his imprisonment hurt him. Even Baldur had shed a tear or two for him, but not even the golden one could free him.

  Fen couldn’t be released until Ragnarrok.

  “And this!” Strong, lean fingers stroked Gleipnir. “Explain it to me again.

  This thing is tissue-thin. Even I should be able to tear it.” Jeff stood and faced Tyr, his hands on his hips, his tone demanding. Fen stood, ready to defend his mate, hobbled though he was.

  But Tyr sighed, his expression one of regret. “It’s Gleipnir.”

  There was silence. Even the female was looking at Tyr in exasperation.

  “Well. That cleared that right up. Not. How about a more detailed explanation, you secretive ass-hat?”

  Fen coughed, caught between laughter and fear. Jeff sounded like a handful.

  If he kept taunting Tyr, the god would attack him and Fen would have no choice.

  He’d place himself between Tyr and Jeff, take any blow meant for the smaller man.

  No one would touch his mate and live.

  Tyr merely grinned. For some absurd reason the god looked pleased.

  “Gleipnir is made from the sound of a cat’s footfall, a woman’s beard, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spit of a bird.”

  “Ew.” Jeff wiped his hands on his pants. “Bird spit, huh?”

  Tyr laughed, bringing painful memories to the surface, memories when Tyr was his foster-father and all was right with his world. “The dwarves made it so that tugging on it only makes it stronger. Legend has it that Gleipnir will hold Fenris until Ragnarrok, when he’ll be freed to devour…” Tyr suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  “It’s all right. I might carry his blood, but he’s not my family. Not anymore.”