Betraying Destiny

by Nora Ash

  I expelled a breath that should have been a laugh, but only came out like a hollow bark. “If I truly let you in, believe me, Annabel, you would not love me. What you feel is biology and Fate’s manipulation. And that is fine. I am not small and vulnerable any longer. I do not need you to tell me fairytales.”

  She finally pulled back to look at me, into my eyes. There were shadows in her gaze, but also steel. “You are not unlovable. You are not broken, or wrong. The people who should have cared for you let you down. They hurt you. And you did not deserve that, Grim. All you’ve done that has been dark and awful has been to protect the people you love. You were willing to turn yourself into a literal monster to save your brothers from Ragnarök. However misguided that was, it tells me everything I need to know about your heart. You can keep your shield in place until you feel ready to trust me, but I see you, my mate. And I love you.”

  It took more effort than it should have to twist my mouth into a wry smile. “That human heart of yours—even in death, it’s so soft.”

  Annabel didn’t so much as blink at my mocking tone. She simply leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on my mouth before she rested her head against my shoulder once more, wrapping her arms loosely around the back of my neck.

  When I glanced down at her face, her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful. It wasn’t long until she was asleep, safely nestled in my arms.

  I woke up to the sensation of being watched. But instead of alarm bells, a sense of utter peace flowed through my body in languid waves paced to the steady rise and fall of my chest. I cracked my eyelids open, only to stare into a dark mass of messy hair still semi-bound into a long braid.

  Annabel. I tightened my arms around the solid form resting on top of me, and sighed when something soft and tender slid into place in my chest as she nuzzled in closer in her sleep.

  “Perhaps,” a quiet voice said from somewhere close, and I jolted upright, shoving Annabel to the ground behind me as I grabbed for my knives.

  Pealing laughter mixed with my mate’s sleepy protests, and Freya’s sunken face came into focus.

  “Relax, little godling,” she said, her laughter quieting even though a faint smile remained on her lips. “No one is trying to hurt your mate.”

  “What’s happening?” Annabel grumbled from behind me. She placed a hand on my hip to push herself into a seated position.

  “Nothing,” I said, irritation sharpening my tone as I shoved my knives back into their sheaths. Freya was sitting cross-legged by our side with Mimir in her lap. She was idly combing her fingers through his coarse hair—a treatment he seemed more than pleased with, judging from his half-closed eyes. “Just a goddess getting her voyeuristic kicks.”

  Freya laughed again and reached out to pinch my cheek with her free hand. “Such a saucy boy.”

  “You seem… better,” Annabel said, her tone careful.

  “Better?” Freya hummed. “I suppose.”

  “I have managed to convince the goddess that there might be hope after all,” Mimir said.

  “I am told you are soulmates,” she said, her smile brightening ever so slightly. “There is… such powerful magic in a soul connection. And watching you now, wound in spirit and body as you sleep, perhaps… perhaps all is not lost.”

  I shot Mimir a dark look. “That was not your information to share, prophet.”

  “Oh, hush.” Annabel swatted my arm, but the excitement in her voice was palpable. “She is the Goddess of Love. I don’t think we have to fear her using that knowledge against us.”

  “Certainly not,” Freya said. “It is the most sacred of connections—two souls uniting as one. It is my deepest duty to protect such a match. Even here, as this… shadow I’ve become.” Her smile faded.

  I scoffed. “Even here? You mean the Norns still have their claws in you in Hel?”

  Freya shot my mate a bewildered look. “The Norns?”

  “Grim believes I only love him because of Verdandi weaving our threads together,” Annabel said patiently. She placed a kiss on my shoulder before resting her chin against it and wrapping her arm around my torso so she could lean against my back. “He’ll get there eventually.”

  I bristled at her easy dismissal of what I knew to be the truth, but the firm pressure of her body against mine stopped any true anger from coloring my words when I bit, “Do not patronize me.”

  She only kissed my shoulder in response again—much to Mimir’s amusement. I narrowed my eyes at the chuckling prophet.

  But Freya looked at me with genuine surprise—and upset. “No. No, absolutely not! The Norns weave their webs as they please, but a soulmate connection is not something even they can create. Verdandi may have woven your threads together, ensuring you met, but no one can force a soul bond—not her, not her sisters, not me. But… it is so exceedingly rare… Are you certain that is what you are to each other?”

  “I am certain,” I said, my voice flat. Annabel nuzzled against the back of my neck—a simple, loving gesture that made my heart ache. I shifted out of her grip and got to my feet. “But how will that help Annabel return to Asgard?”

  Freya watched us both carefully, and I had the uncomfortable feeling she was analyzing every movement, every interaction between us.

  “To return her to full life… it would take a miracle. And I am in no state to perform such a thing,” the goddess said. “But if your love is strong enough, true enough… Perhaps… Perhaps I can help you.”

  “And you and Mimir?” Annabel asked. “Will it be enough for you to return with us?” A caw from the tree line made her add, “And Arni and Magga?”

  Freya gave her a sad smile. “The prophet is not dead. He is simply… visiting Hel against his wishes. He can leave through the same means as your mate. But those of us whose bodies were struck down and no longer possess a physical manifestation among the living… no. Only the Queen of the Dead would be able to grant us such a gift. And she will not.”

  “We will find a way to get her to release you, once this is all over,” Annabel said, her voice so firm I knew that she genuinely believed she would.

  “Isn’t there enough resting on your shoulders? Must you be the one to save everyone—even after you are expected to stop Ragnarök itself?” I asked.

  “We can’t very well live in a world without love,” Annabel said mildly, completely unruffled by my interjection. “If not me, then who?”

  I ground my teeth, biting back my retort that she needed to stop this unholy habit of martyring herself. It was a moot point anyway.

  Annabel brushed a hand down my back, clearly taking my silence as compliance, and looked back to Freya. “How do we proceed?”

  “I will have to look into your hearts to see if there is enough strength there to draw on. If there is… If the three of us combine our powers, I will attempt to send you through the dimensions and back to Asgard.” Freya reached out a hand toward me, palm up. Expectant.

  Numb dread clutched at my gut. My heart. She wanted to see behind my shields, learn the truth of my devotion.

  “We can trust her, Grim,” Annabel said quietly from behind me. When I didn’t move, she got to her knees, kissed the top of my head, and crawled a few steps around me before she placed her own hand in Freya’s.

  “You can look into my heart,” she said.

  Light flared between the two, bright at first, then turning to a soft glow.

  Annabel gasped, but before I could reach for her, her lips turned up into a blissful smile and her eyes fluttered closed.

  I watched them warily, the darkness in my gut turning acid. This was the last hurdle, the final step before Annabel could return to the living and continue her woven destiny. And for it to happen, I would have to let someone—a goddess of Asgard, no less—in.

  There was some poetic balance in it, I supposed. I was the one who’d taken her life. I would have to give some of myself to return it.

  It took a long while, but finally Freya released Annabel’s hand and the
y both opened their eyes. But now, as the goddess looked at my mate, some of that divine glow had returned to her eyes, her skin a bit less sallow and sunken.

  “Your heart is… so bountiful, omega,” she said softly. “A true life-bringer, even in the depths of despair and darkness. Your blessing brings me so much joy, as it will those around you.”

  “Oh.” Annabel returned her smile, even if she looked flustered at the praise. “Thank you?”

  Freya chuckled and turned her focus back to me. “Are you ready to save your mate, Grim Lokisson?”

  Save my mate. She was as manipulative as her reputation would suggest. I had no doubt she chose her words to stir my alpha instincts to life. Slowly, I got to my feet.

  “Very well,” I said through gritted teeth. “But… not here. Somewhere private.”

  “Oh.” Freya looked surprised for a split-second, but then smiled and stood as well, pleased she’d gotten her way. “Of course. If that will make it easier for you, young one.”

  “Do you want me to come?” Annabel asked, already rising onto her knees to follow.

  “No,” I said, and she fell back down in the grass, eager to make this as comfortable for me as possible. “Please, just… stay here. And keep the flying cretins with you.”

  “Of course,” my mate said softly. She smiled at me, and I pushed away the thread of sadness worming its way through my chest at the knowledge that it would be a very long time before she looked at me like that again.

  If ever.

  I turned around and stalked out of the glade, into the dark woods surrounding us.

  I stopped by the side of a small waterfall trickling over mossy stones and waited.

  Freya’s soft footfall found me soon enough, and I steeled myself and turned around to her.

  She gave me a gentle smile, and in it I saw the echoes of what she used to be before he drove his dagger into her heart and ripped her from the world. “There is nothing to fear. Your mate loves you so much. She has nothing but forgiveness and understanding in her heart for your sins.”

  “She has such a soft nature,” I said. “It is perhaps her only real flaw.”

  “What she feels for you, for all five of you, is no flaw, Lokisson. It is her greatest strength.” The goddess stepped closer. “Will you let me into your heart, young one?”

  “I wish that you would take no for an answer,” I said. “But there is no way around this, is there?”

  She shook her head. “No. There is not.”

  I drew in a deep breath and inclined my head once. “Then do what you must.”

  Freya placed her hand against my chest, eyelids fluttering closed as a warm sensation spread inward from where she touched me, threading through my flesh and into the cavity behind.

  I stood still while she searched my innermost and laid every private thought bare. It was… excruciating. She was gentle, but it was nothing like Annabel’s presence within me during those fleeting moments our souls had merged. She belonged there, within me, and I within her. Freya did not, and my powers rose up in defense, dark and violent, only scarcely tethered by the full force of my will.

  It took longer than it had with Annabel before Freya withdrew from me.

  Her eyes were wide as they met mine, and there was no trace of her gentle smile.

  “You have to surrender to her, Grim,” she said. “You must. I see your love for her. It is such a bright, burning fire. It is strong enough to banish the darkness in you. I swear it.”

  I gave her a mirthless smile. “You are wrong; my love for her is darkness. But I loved my brothers before I ever did her, and though my mind is being twisted by this… bond, I will always remember my duty to them.

  “I will give anything, have given everything, to make sure they live through Ragnarök, and that will not change even if fickle biology wills me to sacrifice my previous obligations for her.”

  “They will live through Ragnarök, and so will billions more, if you surrender,” Freya said, desperation tinging her voice even as she strained to keep calm. “With you and the four others by her side, she will be strong enough. You must trust in her.”

  I pulled my lips up higher, my smile turning into a sneer as I towered above her. “And therein lies the problem, sweet goddess. She requires five mates by her side to stop Ragnarök. Five gods sharing her powers. Her body. Her soul. You are no better than the Norns, twisting their vile webs around free will. You, the Goddess of Love, have created this… festering thing, and you dare act as if it were a gift?

  “When I imagine her with them, when I saw her with them even before I made her mine, all I could think of was to close my hands around the necks of the only two beings I have ever loved and squeeze their lives out.

  “But she is mine. She is half of my godsdamn soul. I cannot share her. And I will not risk harming my own brothers. So no, Freya—I will not be helping you perform your little miracle. I will not send Annabel home. She will stay here. With me. For eternity. That is what your precious gift of love has wrought.”

  Freya opened her mouth as if to speak, but in my face, she saw the truth of the darkness she had encountered in my heart. Naked fear flared in her eyes and she made to turn, to run from me and that darkness she had believed could be conquered if I just surrendered.

  I felt no joy when I plunged my knife into her heart.

  Seventeen

  Annabel

  They were gone for a long time, so long that I had started to comb my fingers through Mimir’s hair just to have something to do with my hands while we waited.

  I didn’t know why every nerve in my body was on high alert, but perhaps it was because I knew that Grim feared nothing quite so much as he did opening his heart for judgement. His end of our bond was silent, yet something pulled on me, urging me to go to his side. Only knowing that whatever fragile trust was building between us would be shattered if I barged in on the private session between him and Freya kept me from stalking after them.

  When he finally emerged from the tree line some forty minutes later, my heart leapt into my throat. I got to my feet and hurried to his side, leaving Mimir in the grass.

  “Oh, finally. Are you all right?” I asked as I reached for his wrists.

  Grim didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either. His face was cast in shadows, his features drawn in severe lines.

  “Grim?” I asked, my chest constricting with concern again. “Is something wrong? I…” I zeroed in on the spray of gray liquid on his chest. Blood?

  “Oh my God! Oh, what happened? Baby, please, are you hurt?” I asked, releasing his wrists to press both my palms against the blood smear. I reached for my magic on pure, panicked instinct and forced it into my mate, forgetting all about his lessons of control and accuracy, because the only thought that filled my head was that if he died, nothing would ever matter again.

  “I am not hurt,” Grim said, his voice calm, emotionless. He closed his fingers around my wrists, severing the connection between his chest and my magic.

  Slowly, his words sank in. The glow around my palms died as I looked up at him, confusion mixing with the panic.

  “It is not my blood,” he said softly.

  “Then whose…?” My voice died as I stared into his darkened eyes. Ice-cold dread crept up along my spine and down my arms. I jerked away, unable to move my gaze from his as I asked, “Freya?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Freya?” I shouted, still staring at Grim. It was written all over his beautiful face—what he’d done. But I couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. Because… Because it made no sense.

  “It is too late, my mate,” he said, his voice soft like silk over ice.

  “No.” I shook my head and took a step away. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. “No.”

  Yet Grim kept silent as he looked at me, the truth staring me in the face in the absence of reassuring words.

  I ran out of the glade and into the woods, some dark thread of horror yanking me along the m
ossy forest floor until I came to a waterfall.

  By its side, half-hidden in vegetation, lay a slumped figure.

  “Freya!” I cried as I threw myself to her side. My magic welled within me as I brushed my shaking hands over her, searching. She was unresponsive, and when my fingers touched her chest, they came back sticky.

  He’d stabbed her in the heart.

  “No, no, no! Please, goddess, stay with me,” I whispered. I was more conscious of my control as I directed my powers into her wound, searching for her heart.

  The goddess spasmed once, and a wet gurgle escaped her throat. Slowly her eyes cracked open, her gaze finding mine.

  “Annabel. Stop,” she croaked.

  “I can’t.” I had never attempted to heal a damaged heart before, and I gritted my teeth as the broken flesh within knitted together, only to slide back open again, over and over. “Why isn’t this working? Please, please, help me!”

  I don’t know who I was pleading with, but only Freya responded.

  “You need to stop.” Her voice was so weak—barely a wheezing whisper. “You can’t… can’t save me.”

  “I can,” I bit, forcing more of my magic into her chest. But her heart still wouldn’t stay fused, and I growled in frustration. “You can’t die!”

  She closed her slim fingers gently around my wrist. “If you keep… trying… your child… will die. Please, Annabel. Stop.”

  “My child?” I asked, uncomprehending. “I don’t—"

  “You carry… his child,” she croaked. “But she is still… only a kernel. She needs your strength to live. I am… I am dying, and even your powers won’t stop that. Please. Save your strength. For her.”

  The glow around my hands faded as I stared at the dying goddess. Her words echoed in my mind, through my chest, but I couldn’t take them in. Not now. Tears slid down my cheeks as I grasped her hand in mine.

  “You can’t die. You are the Goddess of Love! There is no life without you. There is no stopping Ragnarök without you.”

  “You have to keep trying. Until… Until the very end. I will give you… what I have left. You will need all five of them. If you channel… all your love… Perhaps… Perhaps it will be enough to bring you home.”