by Lauren Dawes
About Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3
The time of Odin is over. The Aesir gods now live among the humans in their bustling modern cities. Their brutal dominion over the other gods and their eradication of the entire dark elf race may have ended, but their actions have not been forgotten.
Beneath Rhys’s skin lies a legendary and feared beast. Rhys is tormented by his daily struggle to contain the ruthless, cold-blooded creature sharing his body. But when his best friend Galen disappears, Rhys’s careful restraint and self-control are finally broken. Fueled with a desire to find Galen, Rhys strikes an unlikely alliance with the only god who knows the truth about his dark past.
Taer has found her revenge, yet she’s still not happy. There’s something missing from her life, but still she fights what her heart is telling her. It’s only when the incredibly infuriating and dangerously sexy Aubrey goes missing that she can admit her true feelings for him. Taer’s racing against time to rescue Aubrey, but when will she finally allow him into her heart?
Featuring myth’s original antagonist, Loki, Dark Devotion is perfect for fans of Gina Showalter and Patricia Briggs.
Contents
About Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Glossary
Aknowledgments
About Lauren Dawes
Also by Lauren Dawes
Copyright
For Phil and Evie
Prologue
Asgard – 500 AD
Bored, Fenrir snarled, the message reverberating through Loki’s mind with as much vehemency and irritation as if the words had been spoken out loud. Hot, viscous saliva oozed from Fenrir’s jaws, dripping from his gums and onto the skins covering the stone floor beneath him.
Loki sighed, reaching up to touch his son’s jet-black muzzle. “I know you are. And it’s Odin’s doing.”
Fenrir growled at the mention of the All-Father’s name, the sound vibrating through his throat. Loki was starting to see why his son hated Odin. For too long, Fenrir had been confined to Asgard. For too long he had been subjected to the controlling rule of the All-Father. For too long he had been tethered to the social conventions of the Aesirean fuckers who had kept him there because of their fear.
What would Fenrir do if he were free to roam the Nine Worlds? Whatever it was, he knew it would be disastrous and destructive and oh, so satisfying. Loki grinned as an idea formed. He gazed into Fenrir’s blazing, golden eyes, seeing his face reflected back at him. “How would you like to have your freedom, son?”
Freedom, Fenrir replied, his voice a guttural growl in Loki’s mind.
He nodded. “Freedom.”
*
As a wolf, Fenrir stood five times taller than an ice giant. His rough fur was as dense and black as tar, his fangs as sharp as a newly forged blade. But as a man …
As a man, he was magnificent.
His inky hair hung over his forehead, his jaw was strong, his aristocratic nose straight and narrow. His eyes were the only thing that couldn’t be changed. They were still that brilliant gold – dangerous and menacing to look at. But that was the limitation of the magic Loki had used to transform him from a wolf to a man. He had needed to use a great deal of power, and had no way of knowing how long Fenrir would remain in this new form.
“How do you feel?” Loki asked, staring into Fenrir’s hard eyes.
His son flexed his hands into fists. “Small,” Fenrir said. “Weak.”
Loki smiled. “I can guarantee you are not weak, Fenrir. Now, what would you like to do? In this form, you can leave Asgard and the Aesir would never know … Odin would never know.”
“Experience …” Fenrir managed to say, swallowing hard, “everything.”
Yes, Loki wanted to see how Fenrir would experience everything there was in the Nine Worlds. “Come with me and I will take you to a place where you can truly experience everything you want to. I will make sure this opportunity is not wasted.”
Loki led the way, fading them both to a marketplace on Alfheim – the land of the light elves. All around, tall, lithe and beautiful beings strolled past them, going about their daily lives, completely unaware of the destruction and devastation that walked among them. The stalls of the market were filled with fruits and vegetables native to Alfheim, as well as fresh fish and meats, all filling the air with a mix of tantalizing aromas.
As the pair moved through the crowd, Loki took delight in the way the elves looked at them – their curious expressions slowly morphing into fear as they started to feel the menace rolling off Fenrir’s body in thick, choking waves. Harried whispers broke out around them and females picked up their young children to take them out of harm’s way.
If only they knew just how much harm they were really in.
Without turning to his son, Loki asked, “Where would you like to go?”
“Thirsty,” Fenrir replied, his feral, yellow gaze traveling over the quickly thinning crowd, his top lip curling off his upper teeth.
Clapping him on the back, Loki led him in the direction of a tavern. “Then we shall have to remedy that.”
He pushed open the pale wood door, the heady scent of the sweetest Alfheim honey and hops greeting them as they stepped inside. All conversation ceased, every set of eyes landed on them. A low, rumbling growl escaped Fenrir’s throat as he glared at them all.
Loki simply smiled and moved toward the barkeep. “Two tankards of ale,” he announced, keeping that smile firmly locked in place. These elves could have no way of knowing who they were, but their reaction to them certainly made it seem as if they did. When the elderly elf behind the bar remained still, Loki added, “Please.”
Jerking into motion, the male poured the ale into two large horn cups and handed them over. Loki fished some coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter.
“Thank you.”
He turned around and walked to the table Fenrir had requisitioned from a group of elves. The chatter of conversation was yet to resume, leaving the atmosphere inside the tavern on a knife’s edge.
“Unwanted,” Fenrir said, eyeing the throng wearily. Loki picked up his own drink and took one long pull, his eyes never leaving the golden gaze of his son. “Scared,” Fenrir added.
Loki glanced around at the light elves watching them. “They’re right to be scared.”
“Normal?” Fenrir asked, his one-word questions coming a lot more easily from his tongue now.
Loki shrugged. “For some. We’re strangers here and although the light elves are the most trusting of all the beings in the Nine Worlds, aside from Odin’s precious humans,” he sneered, “they can sense the danger in you.”
Fenrir snarled, this time turning his glare to the elves. All averted their eyes, getting busy looking at the table or at their drinks.
“Try your ale,” Loki muttered absently, taking another sip from his own tankard. Fenrir picked up his drink and sniffed at the contents, his nose wrinkling a
little. After a beat, he put his lips to the side of the cup and tasted it.
Swallowed.
Grimaced.
“You … like … this?” he managed to spit out. His vocal cords were getting stronger.
“Drink some more and tell me in an hour if you can’t see its merits.”
It took less than that for Fenrir to begin feeling the effects of the alcohol. It took his nature even less time to come forward. His fierce yellow eyes were darting around all the time, seeing what people’s weaknesses were, watching the women like a starving man. Fenrir had never known the feel of a woman, or heard her pant his name. He had never known the joy of making a female scream out in ecstasy as he spilled his seed inside of her.
That was when Loki saw the new idea form in Fenrir’s head, the desire mirrored in his golden eyes. He wished for a woman.
“You’ve thought of something else you’d like to do, haven’t you?” he asked his son softly. Fenrir’s eyes found his face, his gaze intense. His son nodded, slowly, before a shadow suddenly loomed over them.
Both of them looked up at the light elf blocking the light. He was as tall as Loki but had short, pale hair. His eyes were the color of the midday sky, his nose straight. He was doing his best to look intimidating, but the tendrils of his fear were polluting the air. Fenrir’s nostrils flared, taking in the scent, identifying him as prey rather than as the predator he was trying to portray.
Loki arched an eyebrow at the elf in amusement. “Can I help you?”
The male’s eyes slid toward Fenrir for a moment before fixing back on Loki’s face. “Yeah. We don’t like having strangers around here, so we’d appreciate it if you just finish your drinks and get going.”
He spoke with careful precision, the cultured tone of a high-born light elf. Although why he was slumming it down here in this tavern Loki had no idea.
Making sure to keep a benignly pleasant smile in place, Loki simply stared at the male then said, “We’ll leave when we’re ready.”
Loki picked up his ale again, stopping abruptly when the elf’s hand landed on his wrist. His long fingers tightened, causing Fenrir to start growling. Loki narrowed his eyes at the light elf.
“I said, I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Fenrir stood up, but remained where he was at the slight twitch of Loki’s free hand. His growling, however, didn’t stop. The light elf’s gaze skated over in Fenrir’s direction, his already pallid skin paling further. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
“I’d advise you to release me,” Loki said softly, watching the elf’s eyes return to his face. Behind them, a group of a half dozen elves stepped up.
“We’ve got your back, Morgan,” one of them said with a cocky grin.
Morgan, bolstered by the appearance of his friends, said, “Or what?”
Loki stared at the new arrivals over Morgan’s shoulder, not at all concerned by their appearance. They thought they could handle this situation when they knew nothing of what Loki was capable of, what Fenrir was capable of.
“Or what?” Morgan demanded again, more forcefully this time.
Loki fixed his green eyes back on the elf and nodded his head slightly. Fenrir was nothing more than a blur. His strength and speed were the same in this form as when he was a wolf, and the light elves didn’t stand a chance.
Fenrir’s thick hand wrapped around Morgan’s throat, fingers squeezing until the elf began gasping for air. His friends were struck dumb for just a moment before they leaped into action. Two elves jumped on Fenrir’s back, trying to pry him off while the other four were yelling at Loki, demanding he stop the attack.
Eventually Morgan’s hand released Loki’s wrist, which, in turn, released Fenrir from Morgan’s throat. A second later, Morgan was being thrown across the room, crashing into a table and scattering the elves sitting there. Splintered wood rained down around him, leaving him motionless on the ground.
This time it was four elves who attacked Fenrir, and in one sweeping motion, he discarded them all. They crashed to the floor, stunned and sucking in deep breaths of air, not really sure what had just happened. The other two had watched their friends sail past them, but now their sights were firmly set on Fenrir.
“We’ll make you pay for that,” the larger of the two snarled, pulling a blade out from the inside of his tunic. Fenrir saw the weapon he was being threatened with and bared his teeth.
“I’d put that away if I were you,” Loki said in a sing-song voice, watching the scene unfold. He wasn’t scared for what could happen to his son. He knew Fenrir would dominate any enemy who was foolish enough to challenge him. “He doesn’t take threats well.”
The elf remained where he was, his hand flexing around the handle of the knife, waiting.
Loki stood up, pulling at the bottom of his tunic. “Have it your way, then.”
*
Splattered in blood, Loki and Fenrir left the tavern. A tear in Fenrir’s shirt revealed that the slashes in his skin were already starting to heal. Behind the door, some elves were still moaning pitifully as they waited for death to take them.
Wrapping an arm around Fenrir’s strong shoulders, Loki said, “What do you wish to do now?”
With eyes practically glowing, Fenrir rumbled out one word. “Woman.”
The god smiled. “As you wish.” He’d seen a brothel near the tavern, and was now leading his son in its direction. As they approached the unassuming building, a barely dressed woman stepped out of the front door with a man who looked well used and incredibly satisfied.
She pressed her painted lips to his cheek, rubbing her body along his erotically. “Until next time, lover,” she whispered, cupping his crotch possessively. The guy gave her a lazy smile and sauntered off, staggering ever so slightly.
The woman watched him leave, but her attention was soon fixed on them. Her eyes were a darker shade of blue than Loki was accustomed to, but her hair and height were right on par with that of a light elf. Her smile brightened when she looked at Loki, but dimmed considerably when she saw Fenrir.
“How much, female?” Loki asked, stalking closer to her. She took a step back, her hands coming up to cover all the bare flesh she had no problems flashing before.
“I’m finished for the night,” she managed to stammer, her wide eyes still fixed on Fenrir.
Cocking his head to one side, Loki pushed on. “Perhaps one of the other girls, then? Surely one of them is interested in making a lot of money tonight.”
The light elf looked behind her quickly, licking her red lips.
“Want,” Fenrir said, inching closer. A whimper escaped the woman’s mouth.
“Well?” Loki inquired. “The choice is yours. We can do this on your terms, or we could simply take what we want.”
At Fenrir’s next step, the female bolted inside, setting off Fenrir’s hunting instincts. He went after her and Loki stood outside for a moment longer, listening to the screams of the women. With a smile on his face, he followed his son inside and made sure nobody could escape the building.
No one was safe from Fenrir’s desires. He took every single woman by force, smiling when they begged him to stop, laughing when he injured them with his savagery. After he had spilled himself in each of them, his aggression had to find another outlet.
And that outlet was with his fists.
He beat the women until they were unrecognizable.
And only then did he stop.
Panting, he turned to Loki. Fenrir’s face was spattered in blood, his hands still curled into tight fists.
“Satisfied?” Loki asked, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for Fenrir’s clipped reply.
“For … now,” he replied, his eyes glowing. “Want … more.”
Loki laughed, standing up and slapping his son on the back. “Of course you do.”
Turning around, Loki reached for the door handle, but he was suddenly pushed backwards, causing him to lose his footing. He crashed into Fenrir, sending them both
toppling onto the floor and into a slowly growing pool of blood.
“What have you done?” a voice boomed into the room. Loki didn’t have to look to know it was his blood-brother come to ruin his fun. Loki glanced up at Odin. The All-Father’s obsidian eye reflected back the scene of the room and his green eye showed his fury.
Standing up, Loki fixed his tunic and faced the other god, making sure a smile was firmly in place. “Ah, blood-brother, how nice of you to come along and join in the fun.”
Odin’s eye scanned the gruesome scene behind them. “You call this fun?” he spat back in reply. “This is monstrous, Loki, and who is this man with you?”
Loki glanced over his shoulder at Fenrir. Could the All-Father truly not see who he was? “Do you not recognize my son?”
Odin’s eyes narrowed on Fenrir, scanning his face. “Your son?”
“His current form is unfamiliar to you, but I’m sure those golden eyes will convince you I’m telling the truth.”
Loki watched Odin’s study of Fenrir once more, his eyes widening when realization struck.
“Fenrir?” he asked.
Loki nodded.
“What magic created this?” the All-Father asked in a harsh and disbelieving whisper.
Loki smiled and shrugged. There were still some things the All-Father did not know, and he wanted to keep it that way.
“When will his form return?”
Again, Loki shrugged, infuriating Odin.
“Why did you bring him here? The light elves are gentle, peace-loving beings.”
“What better reason than that?” he retorted.
Odin looked over the bloody and broken bodies of the women splayed across the floor, their robes askew, revealing their already bruising bodies. “Why?”
It was only one question, but it was loaded with so much more meaning.
Once more, Loki shrugged. There were a million different reasons why; he didn’t like to see his son suffering; he wanted to see what would happen if Fenrir was released upon the world …
Loki was bored.