by Libby Bishop
But he didn’t need to touch anything—he just needed to sense it.
The stairs creaked under his weight as he made his way down. Automatic lights turned on once he stepped onto the cement floor. He was sickened, though not surprised, by what he saw before him: a cage loomed to his right, steel bars reached from floor to ceiling, and bloody chains hung in the center of it. To his left sat a wooden chair, handcuffs dangling off the sides, with more cuffs on the floor for feet. Knives, a sword, a pair of small clamps, and what humans called a Taser hung on the wall between the cage and chair. A small brook went through the basement, dug by hand. At the back of the cellar was another wooden door, and even without touching it he could feel the energy barring it: thick, heavy, and locked from the outside.
He’d have to check to make certain he hadn’t missed something on the outside to tell him where the door led. But Erik had to be using the stream as a sort of cleansing element. Fresh, natural, running water washed the dirty aura away.
Erik had learned how to hide, all right. He was using elements to wash the taint away, something only a godkin who was raised by a god, or had learned from a god, would know.
Revulsion akin to what his Valkyrie had felt earlier swam through him. “So help me, brother, if I find out you helped your son to hide, I will truly kill you for the suffering you’ve caused.”
He turned from the scene and began to walk back up the stairs. He walked the floor—nothing out of the ordinary. When he paused in the living room, he tensed, feeling the barrier strengthen. Erik would be back soon.
Before leaving the cabin, he checked the food supply and noted the cupboards were all but empty, holding just a few stray cans of beans and vegetables.
That could actually work in their favor, as it meant Erik would have to stop for food, and they could see him before he returned to his cabin.
Walking outside, he checked around the home and noted a bulkhead. Then, he rejoined Liv.
“The good news is that he’ll be returning soon.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“The barrier has strengthened, which means he’s making certain the boundaries have held. He can’t strengthen it like this unless he’s within fifty miles of it and closing in.”
“What did you see inside?”
He told her about the basement. She didn’t speak, but her jaw tightened once again, and she looked away. He wished more than anything that giving her Erik would be simple, as it would have been if he had his full powers. But he couldn’t do that for her. He could, however, still help her.
“I checked his stores—he’s going to need food. The fridge is completely empty and there are only a few stray cans of beans and vegetables in the cabinets. I highly doubt he’s been here for at least a month. If we can find the nearest store that sells essentials, then we can stake it out, as you humans say.”
That got a small smile out of her. “We can do that. Let’s go.”
As they made their way to the car, he felt a need to lighten the mood a bit. Teasing her seemed the best way to get her mind off of being left out of the cabin search.
“As you know, food can be used to stimulate the senses. Perhaps we can find something at the store I can use to stimulate you.”
Glaring at him, she quickened her steps, leaving him behind.
“I like the view as you walk away.” He whistled. “Your sexy ass is framed perfectly in those jeans, Valkyrie.”
She huffed. “Shut up, Viking.”
Her irritation made him laugh as they reached the car. “Oh, come now, beautiful flame.” He grinned—she huffed again, her hand on the roof by her door. “You know you have a to-die-for backside. Gods should worship it…and I plan to one day.”
She shook her head. “Get in the damn car,” she said, opening her door and sliding in.
He laughed and got in. Closing his door, he said, “I’ve had centuries to perfect my love of the female form—remember that, my lady.”
And he planned on worshipping every bit of her that he could before returning to Asgard. First, though, he was going to hand her Erik’s head on a platter.
Chapter Eight
It only took about five minutes to find the local grocery store in the tiny town. That left another forty-five minutes to wait. Unfortunately, despite what he’d told her about Erik’s basement, all Liv could think about was the heated, intense stare he’d given her when they walked out of the hotel in Newport, then his gods-damned teasing about her ass on the way back to the car from Erik’s cabin.
And he’d meant every word he’d said.
Anxiety had her on the edge of her seat, dueling with desire for the man sitting next to her in the car, and the anticipation of finally being close enough to catch the man who had killed her friend.
Starting the car, she drove away from the grocery store to a small pullout about a mile away, which she’d noticed on the way into town.
“Follow me,” she said, shutting the car off.
He did, not saying a word. Once they were hidden in the trees, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her, crushing her lips to his. His hand cupped her face and he broke the kiss, searching her expressions.
The sudden intensity of his gaze had her mesmerized. It’d only been a couple of days, but already she sensed how deep his passion ran.
And she hungered for him.
Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around, lightly pushing her forward toward a large oak.
“Brace your hands on the tree.”
For once in her life, she gave in to someone else’s orders and leaned her hands against the rough bark. His hands slid around her and cupped her breasts, his thumbs moving back and forth over her already sensitive nipples. The anticipation of what he’d do next had her squirming, and she rubbed her bottom against his hardness.
“Rune,” she moaned, pushing back against him.
He slid a hand down her torso and unfastened her jeans. His fingers delved lower, slipping beneath the elastic of her panties. But he stopped just above the place she wanted—no, needed—him to touch.
“Just how bad do you want me buried inside you?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
“Please,” she moaned.
His fingers moved down a little further, until he finally rubbed her clit. Gods, she was on fire for the man.
“So wet, so hot. Is that all for me, flame?”
She bucked back against him. “Yessss.”
“Good.”
She heard him unzip his pants, the sound ratcheting up her excitement. He slid her jeans down, and the cool autumn air kissed her backside, making her shiver. Hearing the familiar sound of a tearing condom wrapper surprised her, but that lasted about two seconds, then his tongue flicked a trail of fire up her left leg. He repeated the action on her right leg, kissing and licking his way until he reached her ass. He lightly bit one side then soothed it with his tongue.
Her legs shook, and she almost came on the spot.
His foot scuffed as he took a step forward, then he leaned his whole body against her back. He tugged her shirt up until he could cup her breast, pinching her nipple, which sent a streak of fire all the way down to her core.
The tip of his cock slid between her ass and her clit, and the heat inside her spiraled out of control.
He moved her closer to the tree, then grabbed a fistful off her hair, sliding all the way into her in one delicious thrust.
She nearly crumbled right then, crying out softly when he retreated, moaning in relief when he pushed back in. He withdrew again, making her whimper, then thrust back in. Withdrew, slammed in. He repeated the rhythm until she just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Rune, please.”
“Please what, flame?” His voice rumbled words vibrating over her skin.
“Don’t be gentle with me,” she croaked out, closing her eyes against the pleasure. “I need you to take me, Rune…hard.”
Take me. Mark me. Imbed
yourself so deeply in my body and in my senses that you’ll be burned into my memory long after you’ve left for Asgard.
He growled and gripped her hip, fingers pressing into her skin, and did as she asked. His thrusts were hard, until all she could smell, all she could feel, was him—her Viking, her Son of Thunder, taking her into sweet oblivion, holding her tight against him as he did so.
“Rune!” she cried out, then the bright white of release burst through her. His grip kept her on her feet as he thrust into her six, seven times before joining her.
She leaned against the tree and faintly heard him move behind her.
“Can you stand on your own?” he asked, then kissed the curve of her neck.
“I think so.” Although aftershocks made her thighs quiver as he pulsed inside her again. She squeezed her inner walls around him, and he moaned.
“As much as I want to stay here and continue making love with you, we need to go.” He slid out of her, and she felt the loss of him immediately.
She was surprised for a moment by the soft feel of a towel a moment after he’d withdrawn—he gently cleaned her up with it. When she recalled that he could conjure some clothes, she supposed him conjuring a towel wasn’t out of the realm of his abilities.
After he was done, he pulled her jeans up, helping her shaking hands button and zip them. Then, he wrapped strong arms around her and held her close, nuzzling her neck.
Her heart tugged. Not even her ex-fiancé had ever helped her dress again after sex. Rune had given her just what she wanted—him, hard, fast, and deep—yet now he held her as if she were made of spun glass. Why can’t human men be more like this?
She braced herself, burying the wayward feelings, and turned around.
His gaze locked with hers, and her emotions caught in her throat. All she could do was stare at the giant of a man.
He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, then cupped her cheek. “You are so beautiful, Liv. Sexy, tough, a fighter…a woman who will never stop hunting for justice. You are of Viking blood, beautiful flame—the gods would be lucky to have a warrior like you among them.”
He kissed her, and she lost herself in him once again. She was a puddle of goo from his words. They warmed her far more deeply, more intimately, than the feel of his lips on hers.
He pulled away, and she rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening to his steady heartbeat. Then she stepped back and met his eyes.
“Thank you for cleaning me up, Viking. Now, let’s go catch a killer,” she said softly. “And get you home. They were stupid to throw you out.”
She realized that she’d miss him a hell of a lot more than she should when he left—that his absence would leave a black hole not only in her bed, but also in her life. As they headed back to the car, she swallowed the words she wanted to say.
While her body wanted him to claim her, to leave a mark deep within, she didn’t want to fall in love with a god, of all people. He would leave, and she’d be left to put the pieces of her heart back together, if she ever could.
Was he aware of her feelings? Hell, he’d all but said he was. And she was well aware that she wasn’t just risking her heart anymore. At risk, as well, was her chance to be happy with another man. To have a partner in all ways that mattered—someone to fight with, and make love with, and grow old with. She may be left with her memories of their time together, but her bed would be cold and empty.
Two questions arose: one, could she actually stop herself from falling in love with the damn Asgardian? And two, when he was gone, could she live with the regret of holding back the trust he deserved?
She pushed those questions to the back of her mind when they reached the store, forcing herself to concentrate on the hunt at hand. She parked in the same place as before, shutting off the car then looking to Rune. “Is he close?”
He nodded. “Very. Maybe twenty miles out.”
If he had picked up on her thoughts during the drive to the store, he didn’t show it, nor did he speak of it.
“Liv?”
His serious tone took her off guard. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s…” He trailed off, hesitation and indecision warring in his expression. “There’s something you should know about my brother. Something that will give you better insight as to the blood running through Erik’s veins.”
That surprised her. She’d been expecting him to say something about their lovemaking in the woods. “What is it?”
His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his eyes.
Her stomach knotted. What could be worse than Reign killing his close friend?
“Once upon a time, when we were eight years old, my brother and I were hunting deer on Earth with our father, as part of our training and as a ‘bonding’ experience.”
“A bonding moment between you and your father, or between you and your brother?”
“Both.”
She nodded, placing her hand on his knee and squeezing.
He took a deep breath then let it out slowly.
“We were in the wilds of Sweden. I saw the buck first and then the doe and two fawns. Father explicitly told us before leaving Asgard that we were to kill only a male, never a female. And he stressed, in no uncertain terms, that we were not to kill a mother.”
His jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes.
Somehow, she knew he had to get this story out now before he could move on.
He cleared his throat. “We were crouched low, behind some brush, our father close behind us. His only words were ‘steady, Rune. Just breathe.’ I aimed my bow, sure of my strength, my stance, my aim. Reign had his bow up and ready, though I was to be the first to shoot, since I’d found our quarry—the buck, with the doe not far away.”
She had a feeling where the story was going, and bile rose at the images he was creating with his words. Her heart ached for him, at the obvious anger and pain the memory was causing.
“I took my shot—it was perfect. I stood and began to follow the buck—knowing it would most likely collapse within a hundred yards didn’t stop me from wanting to run to it. When I was just a few feet away from my brother and father, an arrow flew right by me.” He took another deep breath. “You can probably guess where that shot went. My father shouted at Reign, then ordered me to go after my prey—I did, having the strength already to deal with the buck on my own.”
She was not going to cry. She refused to cry, but damn if her eyes didn’t start watering.
“When I reached my father and brother, their expressions were vastly different: my father radiated anger. He didn’t speak, just stood, walked to me, picked up the buck, and tossed it over his shoulder. My brother, on the other hand, looked so pleased with himself that glee danced in his eyes, and a soft shimmer of power glowed like diamonds around him.”
“When we returned to Asgard, our parents forbade him from hunting for three months, and after our schooling each day, he had to work hard with the blacksmiths making weapons. In the eyes of humans, that would seem cruel, the amount of sweat he shed and manual labor he was forced to do. But for an eight-year-old child of the gods who had coldheartedly taken a life after being warned not to, it was a fairly light sentence.”
Not knowing much about the day-to-day life of the gods, she’d take his word for it. “Is that when you realized that he wasn’t…the same as you, so to speak?”
He met her gaze. “Yes,” he replied, his voice normal again, though sadness still lingered in his eyes. “But he behaved, for the most part, for years after that. We didn’t have issues with each other until our early twenties, when we began to fight for Odin in battles and wars. His bloodlust and anger rose to new heights with each fight, and it was obvious that he was going to take after our uncle instead of our father.”
“I’m sorry, Rune. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a loved one be so cruel and so brutal, especially a brother, who you’re supposed to be able to trust.”
He shook his head,
a half smile replacing his frown. “It is what it is with my brother, but I’ve made it well known that I felt his punishments should have been longer and more severe. That he needed to be watched over by more than me alone. I do not think his behavior can be quite so…overlooked now, with the discovery of Erik. The fact that he’s a godkin who has gone unchecked all this time is not going to go over well—with other gods or with your government.”
“No, it won’t. This is going to force someone’s hand in Asgard, isn’t it?”
And well it should. She highly doubted that Erik was the only one left to roam “between the cracks.” That just pissed her off.
“Does Reign have other children?”
“I only know of five.”
“Do they lean more toward his personality and traits, or yours?”
“While they all have his love of battle, they are all levelheaded. So I supposed I would say they take after our father and Odin.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about them.”
“Good to know.”
“Anyway, that is the blood running through Erik’s veins. That is part of what we are up against.”
“I’ve dealt with murderers from all walks of life: from the well-loved to those who were treated to the ninth circle of hell by their caregivers. The only difference here is that Erik is the son of a god, which makes him more dangerous, and harder to track.” And that alone upped her anger at Odin. Humans shouldn’t have to clean up the messes left by gods. “But I won’t lie, Rune. Everything that happens on this hunt, other than our…um, personal interactions, will be put in a report.”
He stroked his hand down her thigh, and she wished they were face to face instead of in a car. “I would never ask you, nor expect you, to lie about this case. Humans were killed by a godkin—that should not be hidden.”