by S. T. Bende
“You’re awful.” I laughed. “Seriously, uncloak us in class. I sit with Charlotte, and she’d notice if I was missing.” Or sitting beside her invisible. God, my life had gotten weird.
“Not my problem baby,” Tyr said again. “My number one concern is keeping you alive.”
“Thanks for that, but I’m equally concerned with not losing my entire identity because of all of this.” I waved my hand in a circle in front of Tyr. “And a huge chunk of that identity is not getting marked absent from class, and not making my friends wonder where I am. I didn’t come home last night, and if I don’t show up to class Charlotte will worry.”
“Or she’ll think you’re having a really good time with your incredibly hot boyfriend, and couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed,” Tyr pointed out.
I tapped my foot. “I’m being serious.”
“Mia,” Tyr moaned. “You’re not working with me here.”
My fingers rested lightly on Tyr’s forearm. It was so tense, his veins bulged. “I’m really going to need you to uncloak us for class.” I squeezed. “And maybe for lunch too. I told Heather that Charlotte and I would meet her after Art History. I’m going to tell them I’ll be staying at your place for a few days, so they don’t worry about my sudden disappearance.” I raised one eyebrow. “And I’m giving them my Meemaw’s lasagna recipe to master while I’m gone.”
Tyr took a slow breath through his teeth, the kind one takes when trying not to make the noise one really wants to make. “Fine,” he hissed. “But the second I sense something off, I’m flying you straight out of there. I don’t care who sees it.”
“See?” I hid the tremble from my voice. “I knew we’d find a compromise.”
Tyr glared at me and marched toward campus. “You’re going to be the end of me, you know that?”
I hurried to keep up with him. When I tucked my hand through the crook of his elbow, I glanced up at him with a wink. “Or maybe I’m just the beginning.”
****
Tyr was gone all day on Tuesday. He jetted into the woods in the morning, and took the magic rainbow bridge back to Asgard to talk to Odin about the dwarf situation. Apparently they couldn’t fit him in for another few days, and if the clicking in Tyr’s jaw while he slept was any indication, he was massively stressed about it. While he was away, he left me under the overly watchful eyes of Brynn and Henrik. They followed me to class, to lunch, and Brynn even followed me into the bathroom. When I told her to leave, she pushed out her bottom lip.
“I told you I wouldn’t watch,” she complained. “But if Tyr finds out we let you out of our sight for one minute… I told you he had a temper, didn’t I?”
“You also told me you weren’t afraid of him. That it’s Henrik you really have to watch out for,” I reminded her. “And I swear, nothing’s going to happen if you give me one minute to tinkle. Honest.”
Brynn covered her mouth. “You said tinkle.”
“Get out.” I shoved her through the door.
Tyr should have been home by dinnertime Tuesday night, but at five-thirty there was still no sign of him. I picked up my phone and dialed, not expecting an answer. Even with Henrik’s miraculous apps, the probability of my wireless provider reaching Asgard was slim.
“Ja?” Tyr picked up on the second ring.
“Hi. Um. Wow. I didn’t think you’d answer,” I stammered. He must have been back on Earth. Back on Earth… jeez, my life was weird. “You almost home?”
“Sorry baby. I’m going to have to stay in Asgard overnight. Hreidmar is being a total pain, and Odin’s ready to wage a war over it.”
“Hold on, you’re talking to me from Asgard? How is that even possible?” I balked.
“Brynn implanted a chip on your mobile.”
“She whaty-what now? Did I sign off on that?”
“No.” Tyr sounded sheepish. “It’s one of Henrik’s transistors. You’ve got reception, and a GPS tracker, that will work in all nine realms.” Tyr sounded distracted. I could almost picture him running his hand through his unkempt hair.
“Okay, first of all, let’s ask people before installing things on their phones from now on. And second of all, you’re tracking me? And you have been since when? Seriously, when you get home we have got to talk about boundaries.”
“Whatever you say, prinsessa. Listen, I have to run. Henrik and Brynn are both staying at the house tonight. Do you want me to send Freya back too?”
“No.” My answer came too quickly. While I appreciated everything Freya had done to bring Tyr and me together, I still hadn’t totally forgiven her for locking me in the house when I should have been out helping my boyfriend fight. Ahlström women did not play the damsel in distress. “Are you okay up there? You’re not in any danger or anything, are you?”
Tyr sighed. “Fenrir’s on the warpath, and you’re worried about me? You’re something else.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” I pointed out.
“I’m fine.” Tyr’s smile sounded in his tone. “We’ve got the Elite Team surrounding the cabinet room.”
“The who?”
“Odin’s top assassin team. Don’t worry, prinsessa. I’m in the safest place I could be. And you are, too. Nothing’s gotten past Henrik yet.”
“Great.” I forced a smile. “So I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Here’s hoping. Take care of yourself, prinsessa. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” Tyr’s voice caught. “We can go over some weapons training when I get home, if you still want to.”
“It’s a date. And Tyr?”
“Mmm?”
“Please be careful,” I begged.
I could practically see the twinkle in Tyr’s eye. Even though he was trying to talk the lord of the realms out of going to war, he lived for a challenge. He let out a light laugh as he signed off. “I always am.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“HEI, BABY.” TYR RAN into the kitchen late Wednesday afternoon, and swept me up in a hug. Thick arms crushed me from behind as I was enveloped in the comforting smell of spruce, pine, and man.
“Hi,” I murmured, reaching up to wrap my fingers through his hair. Tyr lowered his mouth to my neck and traced a warm path to my ear, before turning me around to plant a languid kiss on my mouth. When he pulled away, his eyes were hooded. “Mmm, I missed that.”
“Me too.” Tyr stroked his thumb against my cheek. “I don’t like leaving you.”
My heart soared at the words, and I couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across my face. “I’m glad you’re home,” I said simply.
“Me too. Now let’s get out of here.”
Wait. What?
Tyr grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the hallway. He walked to the closet and entered a code in the keypad. The door opened, and Tyr pulled out two space guns, two crossbows, and a sword.
Seriously. What?
“What are you doing? I was just about to start dinner. Should I turn off the oven?”
“Turn it off. We’re going outside. I promised I’d teach you to defend yourself.” Tyr closed the door with his foot and headed down the hall, laden with weaponry. I hurried to the kitchen and turned off the stove.
“Can it wait until after dinner?” I returned to the hallway. “You just got home. You have to be hungry.”
“No time, prinsessa. Thar be monsters in them woods.”
“Okay, Davey Jones, stop moving and talk to me right now. What is going on?” I untied my apron and folded it in my hands.
“Walk and talk, Mia.” Tyr shifted the weapons to one hand and opened the front door. I tossed my apron on the entry table and hurried after him. “I learned two things while I was away. One, Fenrir’s working with one of the biggest monsters of all time. He’s using him to get to me, and he seems to think it’s going to work. His thought is if he can take away enough of the good things in my life, I’ll go back to the darkness and fight with him at Ragnarok.”
“That’s the end of th
e world, right? Is it coming?” I bit down on my bottom lip.
“It’s still looking like it’ll be a long way off. Like, centuries away.”
Well, that was good news.
“So who is the monster Fenrir’s working with?”
“Hymir.”
The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Who?”
Tyr continued walking off the porch, and into the clearing. He stopped when he was about a hundred feet from the house, and turned to look at me. “Hymir,” he spoke quietly. “My birth father.”
“Your birth father is trying to make you turn evil? That is seriously messed up.”
“I told you I came from darkness.” Tyr grimaced. “So that’s number one. Number two: this is yours now. Take care of it.” He held up a space gun. “And number three: Odin’s this close to opening a full war on the fire giants, who seem happy to both harbor and lend their full support to Hymir. So they could show up in Arcata to come after you, me, Elsa, or just cause chaos because they can, at any moment. Weapon up. It’s time to train.” He tossed my space gun at me, and I plucked it out of the air with one hand.
Crumbs on a cracker, he wasn’t kidding.
“Nice catch.”
“I can’t believe you threw a space gun at me. Usually you treat me like some delicate little flower.” I gripped the firearm. It was lighter than it looked.
“I don’t really have a choice anymore. Things could get ugly fast, and I need to know you can take care of yourself. Besides, you’re still my delicate little flower. The safety’s set.”
Of course it was.
“This model has two settings—stun and implode. I keep them set on stun, because Odin’s current order is to capture Fenrir, not kill him. But if you ever find yourself in a position where you don’t think stun is going to keep you safe, then push this switch.” Tyr pointed.
“But then I’d kill him.” I hesitated. I knew what Fenrir had meant to Tyr at one time. “Are you okay with that?”
“I’m a lot more okay with that than with him killing you.”
“Oh.”
“Hopefully, you’ll never have to use this thing. But if you do, and if you’re in danger, you do what you have to do to protect my girl. Now, the first thing you do with this one is release the safety.” Tyr stood behind me and turned the gun over in my hands. He activated the weapon, then placed both of my hands around the cool metal. His chest pressed against my back as he positioned my arms, and my skin tingled where we made contact.
“What’s this made of?” I asked in my most academic voice. It was hard to focus when he was standing so close.
“A titanium hybrid native to Svartalfheim. The prototype was iron, but it was too dense.”
“Density matters in this gun?” These were the first things I’d ever actually seen with the technology to make something implode.
“Tremendously. There’s a detonator that’s activated with a magic capsule Henrik embedded in the chamber. The magic was creating too much reverb in the heavier model, and a few of the, eh, test subjects had some unfortunate injuries. This is the fifth model.” Tyr raised my arms to eye level, and placed his knee between mine. Heat leapt through the fabric of my jeans as a warm burn moved slowly up my leg. Tyr shifted his knee slightly and the heat moved up several inches. I sucked in a sharp breath, and leaned into the touch. I had no idea where he was going with this, but I really wanted to find out.
“Maybe tonight, prinsessa. If you’re lucky.” Tyr chuckled.
“You said you wouldn’t read my mind,” I hissed.
Tyr stepped back and doubled over. “Just promise me you’ll never play poker. You’re entirely too transparent.”
Oh. My cheeks burned. “Are you going to teach me to use this thing or not?” I grumbled.
“Sorry.” Tyr wiped his eye as he stood. “So this one shoots like a regular handgun, but it’s got a killer kickback. I was trying to open up your stance; you’re going to need as stable a base as possible in order to stay on your feet.”
Right. That was why my lower half felt as shaky as if I’d just finished a two-mile downhill course.
“This good enough?” I set my feet shoulder-width apart, with the right set slightly back.
“Wider.”
“This?” I stepped back another few inches.
“Spread your legs wider, baby.”
I caught the twinkle in his eye, and shook my head. “You are incorrigible.”
“I’ve heard worse. But another six inches will stabilize you more. Try it.”
Trying not to blush, I set my stance. Tyr came back to stand behind me, with one leg between mine, and his chest pressed firmly against my back. He leaned over so he spoke into my ear.
“I’m going to fire it with you the first time. I’m not kidding about the kickback. Remember whatever you shoot at will implode, so try to pick something small and far away but still inside the protection.” He nodded at the shimmering bubble encasing our property. It stretched around the cabin, all the way to Elsa’s cottage, keeping Fenrir, and whatever crowd he hung with, out. “The fire will be silent, but the implosion most definitely will not. So try not to jump. Are you ready?”
I nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“What are we shooting?” Tyr asked.
I let my eyes roam the woods until I found a small stump roughly thirty yards away—what was left of a fallen tree. “How about that?”
“Looks good. One. Two.” He squeezed my hands around the trigger.
“Three.” I fired, sending a beam of white light into the stump. The act made the gun jump in my hands, and if Tyr hadn’t locked my elbows in place with his arms, the sudden burst of energy would have left me eating titanium.
“Get ready,” Tyr whispered. We stared at the stump as it emitted a puff of smoke and appeared to collapse on itself, before sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Tyr wrapped himself around me, bending at the waist to tuck me against his massive form. I felt the impact of the wood chips hitting his arms, and when he released me, I scanned his body for injuries.
“That was intense. Are you hurt?” I held the gun in one hand, and touched his forearm with the other. “Didn’t the wood hit you here?”
“Our skin’s pretty much impervious to injury from organic substances,” Tyr explained. “They have to hit us pretty hard.” He pointed to a cut on his bicep. It was deep, crimson, and oozing a thin trail of blood, but it was also knitting itself back together. In the time it took my jaw to drop, the injury had healed itself. Only the red residue remained.
“What just happened?” I blinked.
“When we are injured, usually we’re able to heal ourselves. Me especially. I inherited the healing gene with my title.”
Of course he did.
“Are there any injuries you can’t heal yourself from?” I asked.
“Yes. If a wound comes from a non-organic substance, like a manufactured poison, or if a weapon has been infused with dark magic, I’m out of luck. And if an organic weapon is infused with dark magic, and it delivers a deep enough injury—punctures an organ, severs a limb… there’s very little chance I’d survive. We can heal, but we can’t completely regenerate.”
“Fenrir?” I shivered.
“Fenrir or his siblings could kill me, if they had enough dark magic in them.” Tyr nodded. “But we don’t need to go there. We’re safe enough in our little bubble for now, and Odin forbid he breaks through, you’ll just shoot him down with that thing, right?”
I fingered the gun in my hand. “Um, yeah. Maybe we’d better practice again.”
“Fair enough.” Tyr took a step back. “On your own this time.”
A tremor danced along my spine, but I found a small shrub thirty yards away and took aim. I set my legs apart, locked my elbows, and pulled the trigger. The gun pushed back hard, sending a jolt into my elbows, but I held them firm and my shot fired straight. The white beam raced for the shrub, and in seconds green leaves flew in the air,
resulting in a snowstorm of emerald shrubbery.
“Well played, baby.” Tyr clapped his approval.
I tucked a leg behind me and bent in a low curtsy. “I figured leaves were a lot easier to take a hit from than boulder shards or another tree. You can thank me some other time.”
“Oh, I plan to.” Tyr’s eyes grazed my denim-clad backside, and I shot him a grin. He caught me smiling and raised an eyebrow. “Ready to go in so soon?”
“Not on your life. How many rounds can this thing do?” I held up the gun.
“The magic will sustain six shots total, then you need to load up a new cartridge. They’re stocked in the hall closet, so be sure to grab extras if you ever need to take your gun out.” Tyr raised his arms over his head in a stretch. “Why don’t you finish that one out, and then we’ll move on to crossbows?”
“That sounds good.” The back of my neck grew hot, and I ducked my head so Tyr wouldn’t see me blush.
Tyr Fredriksen wielding a crossbow. This was turning out to be our hottest date yet.
****
That night I lay in Tyr’s bed, pretending to read All’s Well That Ends Well. It was impossible to process Shakespeare’s prose when a Norse deity was brushing his teeth half a room away. I could see the outline of his arm through the open bathroom door, the muscles of his bicep flexing with each tiny stroke. How could Tyr manage to make dental hygiene sexy? Maybe it was the intimacy of it all. So domestic.
When I heard Tyr rinse his brush and put it in the holder, I gave up and put my book on the nightstand. He came out of the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and no shirt. His lightly tanned skin stretched so beautifully across a sea of smooth muscles, I nearly forgot what I’d wanted to talk to him about. He yawned and dropped onto the bed, face first.