“Enter at your own risk.”
When Tyr entered, Fenrir couldn’t really blame him for the caution, nor for the wicked looking blade in his hand, nor for the fact that he looked ready to use it. He almost lunged towards at the warrior-god just for a little fun, but he doubted his brother in arms would find the humor in it. Amusing though it would be.
“You haven’t eaten in weeks. Odin says you need to get your ass downstairs and have dinner with us.” Tyr picked a spot four feet from the door, casually bracing his legs apart, his wide shoulders relaxed. “Said if you don’t, we’re supposed to drag you down and chain you to the table till you do.” Smart, Fenrir thought, close enough to escape and still be able shut the door behind him on the way out.
“Not hungry.” Which was, of course, a lie and a half, but who the hell cared. Right now he was so far gone lies and truth were all mixed up together and there was only the now of the gnawing hunger in his belly and current wreckage of his mind. If he allowed either one to consume him, nothing would matter.
Fenrir followed Tyr’s questing glance around the room. He had no doubt those ancient, cunning eyes would see everything, and he’d report every single detail back to Odin, including the fact that his thick neckchain lay on the floor next to his pallet, a jumbled tangle of silver. “Yeah, I took it off.” The words came out somewhat distorted, since his fangs were elongating. Given the way Tyr was backing cautiously toward the door, he’d bet his eyes were beginning to change, too. Fenrir focused and pulled himself back together.
Calling the beast to heel, he forced the rational part of himself to take control once again, at least long enough to have a semi-civil conversation and salvage his fucking dignity. He realized Tyr only wanted to help, and angled his head at the dark haired god, wariness etched into every deep, handsome line of his face.
“Tell you what. Bring me a plate of food. Heavy on the protein if you know what I mean. Anything’ll do.”
“You got it, brother mine.” The door shut behind him with a bang, but Fenrir knew Tyr’d be back. With reinforcements, if he was smart. Probably bring dear old dad. Although, a hell a lot of good that would do.
Truth of it was, Fen had been a mess for months now, ever since they’d gotten back.
From the Underworld, that was.
When his sister, Hel, had started World War Three and he’d gotten sucked into the middle of it, little did he know that he’d return with a shitload of baggage. Why exactly, he didn’t know, it was just…something was…amiss. Something in his usually simple, uncomplicated world seemed off balance ever since. So he did what any animal did when it was threatened, he hunkered down and waited for it to pass.
Except it wasn’t. Passing. It was getting steadily worse.
Case in point, hunting. Simple. He went out and killed shit.
His brothers did an okay job in the demon hunting department. Half the time. But they almost got themselves killed the other half and he spent more time saving their asses than killing demons. Him, on the other hand? Fenrir was created to be a predator. You might even say it was what he’d been born for.
Killing took the edge off, gave him a little bit of a release. A little easing of that place inside of him where man and monster met and didn’t usually get along too well.
But now? There weren’t any demons to kill. Ever since Hel, his sister, had been banished to the Underworld, her demons along with her. Which meant they were all on standby. Twiddling their thumbs. Playing with their dicks. The problem with that was, Fen’s wolf needed to kill something. He needed to hunt. And he had to do it soon, before he started to rip this place apart, brick by brick. Maybe he needed a freaking vacation. On one of those little pretty boats down there on the blue water in the sunshine with normal people.
He should have kept his nose out of his father’s business, is what he should have done. But no. He had to go to the Underworld to save Morgane and retrieve an entourage of banished souls from Hel’s dark, cold graveyard and now, for some reason, everything in his world was skewed sideways.
That wasn’t all that had changed.
His father had started talking about feelings. And somewhere along the line, Fen had begun watching the two of them together. Loki and Morgane. His father’s mate. How they laughed. Touched each other. The way his father slowly, inextricably changed over these past two months. It had made him want, in a way he never had. And something inside himself had just…snapped. It felt like his heart, although it still beat like usual.
“Open up, we got food.”
Balder stepped in behind Tyr with a silver platter the size of a buffet. “Supposedly, Morgane’s worried, so she put together a little something for you. She sent up pig, cow and chicken, no ocean, ‘cause Balder here ate all the shrimp scampi last night, sorry.” Tyr had brought reinforcements. Never was the stupid one, Tyr.
“This’ll do, not a fan of day old shrimp, anyhow.” Fen noted the nerves and hunched his shoulders inwards a bit to try and make himself smaller. He totally respected their attempt to be cautious around monsters. That’s the sort of vigilance that kept you alive. “Seriously, I’m just hungry, thank you, my brothers.” Between bites, he murmured the pretty, polite, banalities that were expected:
How is the hunting going? Any new developments in the big city? Has my sister returned to raze the Earth to dust yet?
While they offered their equally polite answers, he continued eating as quickly as he could, realizing the faster he got food into him, the more contained the wolf.
“Be sure to thank my father’s mate for this. I appreciate it.” That ache in his heart intensified ever so slightly.
“Don’t see why we need a bloody house mother around here.” Tyr grumbled, ever irritated with the new living arrangements in the Tower. “Especially a fucking mortal one.”
“That mortal saved our asses a couple months ago.” Balder reminded him, as Fenrir continued shoveling food in his mouth. “Without Morgane, we’d all be toast. Need I remind you of Hel’s little side deal with that dark god, poised to take over the world?”
“My memory’s just as good as yours. I just don’t see why your father’s gone brain dead over a mortal. There’s billions of them out there to choose from, for the gods sake.” Try rolled his eyes at Fen, an exasperated groan escaping.
Balder tapped the table. “It’s called love, asshole.”
“It’s called being pussy whipped, is what it is.” Tyr grumbled. “Never see me in that position. Ever. Guaren-fucking-teed.”
Balder rubbed his forehead so hard Fen could hear the rasping as Tyr turned to him, and gave the order he already knew was coming. “Odin wants you in the Great Hall. Before seven o’clock.”
“Does he now?” He didn’t give a rat’s ass what Odin wanted, but he knew what the bastard wanted. It probably killed the him to grant an audience with lowly dog such as himself, as Fen was more the sort Odin sent out on dirty jobs he wanted swept under the table. The kind of thing that you hired a criminal for. “Seven o’clock, you say?”
“Don’t dick around with him. He’ll just send me back up here to get you if you don’t show. As soon as you’re finished eating. He’s expecting you.” Tyr nodded over at the neck chain on the floor. “And you’ll be putting that on before you go.” Fenrir stopped chewing. A contemplative look crossed Balder’s face as he watched their staring contest for a moment.
“Don’t be telling me what to do.” Fen shot Tyr a toothy grin. “Brother.” Then he stilled a growl in his throat, telling himself it wasn’t their fault he was both fucked in the head and had a dickhead for a boss. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tyr.” He muttered. “And thanks for bringing me dinner, Balder. I’ll be sure to put the chain on before I meet with my jailer. T’would only be appropriate, wouldn’t it?”
He didn’t notice them leaving, only that the plate in front of him was empty and he was out of excuses to go and see Odin. Between the silver chain and the protein, he might actually hold out long enough, provided the
meeting was short.
And if the moon ever made her appearance tonight, and he could escape this mortal world and shift into his wolf form and run free?
Then all would be right with his world.
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Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1) Page 26