by Jane Godman
Wilder sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, obviously thinking through the implications of this information. “Is it true that Santin is Fenrir’s son?”
Angrboda raised her head. Her green eyes were darkened with pain. “Yes.” The admission that Fenrir, her son, was also the father of her children clearly caused her agony.
Wilder ignored the confession and continued in a businesslike tone. “And they have both spent the last four hundred years in the dungeons beneath this castle?”
Although Angrboda’s expression remained pained, there was a touch of pride in her voice when she spoke again. “I am not stupid. They were not in adjoining cells, and Fenrir should not have been able to speak to Santin.”
“Should not?” Wilder leaned forward, his eyes scanning Angrboda’s face. “Surely Fenrir cannot speak? He has a sword placed between his jaws to hold them open as far as they can go.”
The goddess swallowed hard. “I discovered recently that someone had removed the sword.”
A collective groan rippled through the Arctics. “Who was guarding them?” Madden leaned forward to ask the question.
“I chose the guards myself. I had no reason to question their loyalty.”
“Anyone can be bought,” Wilder said. “Santin can be very persuasive and so, if legend is to be believed, can Fenrir. We had a father and son, both with a grudge against the world and time on their hands. No wonder they came up with a plan. What I don’t understand is what was in it for Fenrir if he helped Santin escape? Yes, Santin is his son. But Fenrir gained nothing from this.”
Angrboda rose to her feet and began to pace the room. “You don’t understand. This was not a one-sided arrangement. It was a pact. Fenrir used his magical powers to free Santin, but it didn’t end there. That was not even how it began.”
A horrible sinking feeling took possession of Jenny’s insides. She didn’t want to hear the next part of the story. Looking at Wilder’s face, she could tell the same premonition had already occurred to him. “What did Santin promise Fenrir in return for his freedom?”
Angrboda swallowed hard. “Santin set Fenrir free.”
The room exploded with shock. Each of the Arctic werewolves bolted upright in their seats. Samson burst out of his chair and onto his feet as though he was about to set off in search of Fenrir there and then.
Lowell, always the cautious one, seemed to feel the need to double-check the facts. “Are you telling us that Fenrir, the god of destruction, is now loose and out there in the human world?”
“That is exactly what I am telling you.”
Wilder rose to his feet and faced the goddess. “I don’t see how that can be. Fenrir was chained and imprisoned because his hatred of Odin’s creation of the human race led him to declare war on all mortals. Fenrir swore to destroy the world. If he is free, surely he would have begun that task by now. Why haven’t we heard about it?”
“You assume that because Fenrir is mad, he would not be able to hide his true nature. But my son is cunning as well as evil. He knows the world has changed since he was placed in his chains. This time, he has declared he will destroy the humans from the inside out. He is getting them under his control before he tears them apart.” Angrboda’s smile was both sad and loving at the same time. “As you have already said, Fenrir can be very persuasive.”
Jenny raised a hand to her lips as realization hit her. “Oh, dear God, Wilder. We have heard about him. We were talking about him just the other day.”
He looked down at her, a frown in his eyes. “I don’t—” He broke off as the frown shifted and became a look of dawning horror.
Jenny nodded. “Fenrir is Van Marsh.”
* * *
“Is this true?” Wilder already knew the answer. Jenny must be right. Van Marsh, the cult leader who had sprung up from nowhere to attract a global following of millions—possibly already billions—was none other than the deadliest werewolf of them all.
“I have been imprisoned here since Fenrir’s escape, so I don’t know much about it,” Angrboda said.
“How did Santin overpower you?” Wilder asked.
“To my shame, it was not a difficult task. I never thought anyone—least of all my own son—would make the attempt to overpower me, especially not here in my own palace. Why would a werewolf want to imprison the werewolf goddess?” Angrboda appeared momentarily confused. “I simply woke one morning to find I was locked in my room and all my servants had been replaced with Siberian guards.
“As for Fenrir, all I know is that he has taken on the guise of a human. He joked that he would woo them with his charm before he ripped the heart out of their world.” Angrboda turned to Jenny. “You said the name Marsh?” Jenny nodded. “Fenrir used to masquerade as one of the Marsh wolves of Norse legend.”
“You said this pact did not begin with Santin’s escape. What did you mean by that?” Wilder needed to know the full story.
“Santin promised he would lie low and not make his own escape known until Fenrir had time to establish his presence in the human world. Fenrir has been gone from Jotunheim for several months.”
Madden had been brooding on the landscape beyond the window, but he turned his head at that. “Right about the time that Van Marsh made his first appearance.”
“It can’t be a coincidence.” Wilder’s mind was racing with possibilities. “How do we stop him?”
Angrboda bit her lip. “It is an almost impossible task. You cannot kill Fenrir. He must be placed back in the chain that was forged for him by the gods. Then you must bring him back to Jotunheim.”
“Will the chain work if it is removed from Jotunheim?” Lowell asked.
“If I wish it so.” Angrboda ceased to be a mournful woman and became a proud goddess once more.
“What is so special about this chain?” Jenny looked around the room, seeking an explanation.
“When it was clear that Fenrir’s savagery could not be held in check, the gods decided to imprison him. Only a magic chain would hold a wolf of his size and strength. The gods had a chain made from six impossible things. They were the sound of a cat’s footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sensitivity of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird. Those things do not exist, so of course the chain was enchanted.” Angrboda’s eyes had a faraway look as though she were looking into the past. “Fenrir was tricked into placing himself in the chain and a sword was inserted into his mouth to keep his jaws apart so he couldn’t speak. That is how Fenrir must spend eternity. Anything else, and he will fulfill his promise to devour the world.”
“If Fenrir is so clever, how was he tricked?” Jenny asked.
“The gods told him it was a challenge of strength, but when Fenrir saw the chain he suspected there was some trickery at work. There was only one god whom Fenrir trusted. This was Tyr, the god of honor and justice. Tyr had cared for Fenrir throughout his life. To prove to Fenrir that he would come to no harm, Tyr placed his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as he was bound by the chain.”
“What did Fenrir do when he knew that Tyr had tricked him?” Jenny was clearly fascinated by the old legends that Wilder had grown up with.
“He bit off Tyr’s hand.” Jenny winced at the stark brutality of Angrboda’s words.
Samson, clearly keen to get going, became brisk. “So we take the chain and the sword with us when we go after Van Marsh.”
“There’s just one problem.” Wilder didn’t add that it was a big one. He was fairly sure his expression gave that away.
“What’s that?” Samson frowned impatiently.
Wilder pointed out of the window to where the midnight sun was casting its neon light over the snowy landscape. “Last I heard, Van Marsh was on a whistle-stop tour of all the major cities of the United States. How do we go after the strongest, deadliest werewolf of them all when this job will take us to places where we won’t be able to shift?”
“Fuck.” Samson uttered the word, then cast a glance in the
direction of the goddess. His face reddened. “Sorry, Wolf Mother.”
Angrboda waved a hand, indicating they had bigger things to worry about than a curse word. Silence reigned for long minutes before the goddess spoke again. “I have a solution, but it is one you may not like. I can grant you the ability to shift at any time you choose.”
Wilder went to the window and gazed out. He understood what the goddess meant about not liking the solution. The midnight sun was what gave Arctic werewolves their unique identity. This is who we are. Take this away and we become just another werewolf. Yet, if he refused Angrboda’s offer, he was allowing Fenrir to destroy the entire human race. It wasn’t a choice at all.
He felt a movement at his side. Jenny reached up and brushed her cheek along the length of his jaw. He gripped her tightly around the waist and they stood together, looking out at the blanket of snow covering the trees.
“No one can take it away from us.” Jenny’s voice was husky with unshed tears. “The midnight sun, the land of ice and snow, they will always belong to us. They will be in us forever, Wilder. If the goddess gives us extra powers, we will have more, not less.”
Wilder pressed his lips to her temple before turning to the other members of the brotherhood. “This only happens if we all feel the same way. We do this together.”
His gaze moved slowly around the circle. Each of them nodded in turn. Samson added a resounding “Hell, yeah” for good measure.
Wilder felt the moment needed a return to formality. He went down on one knee before Angrboda. “In that case, Mother of All Wolves, we accept your offer. In return, the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun pledges to return Fenrir, god of destruction, to his prison here at Jotunheim.”
* * *
The whole group was subdued during the helicopter flight. Even Samson remained silent. Jenny sensed Wilder’s inner turmoil and wished there was something she could say or do to ease his pain. He had achieved what he set out to do. Santin was dead. The Siberian threat to the Arctics was eliminated. There should have been a sense of “job done” about this return journey. Jenny sometimes wondered if Wilder thought she didn’t know how damaged he was by his past experiences. Did he think she loved him any less because he’d been scarred by what Santin had put him through all those years ago? She turned her head to view his profile as he stared with unseeing eyes out of the helicopter window.
Do you even know I love you, Wilder? I’ve never said it. But can’t you feel it every time I look at you or touch you? Don’t you know I love every inch of you, even the parts that are hurt beyond repair?
Unlike Wilder, Jenny had accepted the inevitability of their being together almost as soon as she saw him. He was her mate. She knew it with a fierceness that couldn’t be denied. Now she just needed Wilder to recognize it as well. If he didn’t? No. Her stubborn streak kicked in. I won’t let that happen. But with the future of the world at stake, they should both probably be focusing on other things right now.
Wilder, in particular, had been presented with a huge responsibility. The final decision to allow the goddess to make a change to the makeup of the brotherhood members had rested with him. They no longer needed the midnight sun in order to shift. It was a bittersweet gift. Bitter because of their love for the midnight sun and all it meant to them. Sweet because it gave them a newfound sense of freedom and opened up a whole world of possibilities. If the world lasted long enough for them to explore it.
The goddess had explained that only the brotherhood would have this new ability. Other Arctic werewolves must still rely on the midnight sun.
“When you mate, your cubs will inherit your ability to shift at any time,” Angrboda had told them. Was it Jenny’s imagination, or did she look particularly closely at her and Wilder? “You are the founders of a new dynasty. But there is a price.” She had looked at each of them in turn. “In the past you could only be killed under the midnight sun. You will still be strong away from its rays, but you will no longer be invincible.”
The words had had a sobering effect on them all. And the reason why they had chosen to go ahead with this change could not be ignored. The task of bringing Santin to justice had been difficult enough. Now the stakes had been raised beyond belief. Santin was a shadow when compared to Fenrir. Was Wilder strong enough to face the challenge ahead of him? Jenny knew he was. The problem was, did Wilder know it?
Madden brought the helicopter down on the landing pad close to the compound. Gunnar was waiting to meet them. He could obviously tell from their faces that they had a story to tell him. “Come inside.”
They trudged into the meeting room, discarding clothing as they went. Sebastian handed out bottles of water and there was silence for a long time as they drank. Finally, Wilder spoke. “Santin is dead.”
Gunnar nodded. “I can tell there’s more.”
“Oh, yes.” A corner of Wilder’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Before he died, he let us in on a little secret. He had already allowed his father, the mighty Fenrir, to escape.”
Although Gunnar’s jaw dropped, he recovered fast. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“It’s only the beginning.” Wilder proceeded to fill the older Arctic in on the rest of the events at Jotunheim while the other team members fetched food from the cold store.
“I would ask if this is a fucking joke, but I’m guessing that would be wishful thinking?”
“We could try clicking our heels together three times or waving a magic wand, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to have to get up close and personal and chain that bastard down.” Wilder accepted a plate of raw meat from Vigo. “How did you know Santin had escaped?” he asked Gunnar.
“The first I knew of it was when he sent me a message telling me he was going to kill you. That was when I decided it was time to pay you a visit at the university,” Gunnar said.
“That must have been the point at which they had decided Van Marsh was powerful enough for Santin to come out into the open. He no longer needed to keep his escape a secret. The only other person who knew Fenrir had escaped was Angrboda, but she was Santin’s prisoner, so she wasn’t going to be able to tell anyone what had happened or reveal the truth about Van Marsh’s identity.”
“The first thing we need to do is find out where Van Marsh is.” Gunnar was on his feet. “While you were away, I managed to get a portable transmitter from the mainland. It’s not brilliant, but I should be able to get our transport out of here organized.”
“He’s at his best when he’s doing something.” Wilder leaned back in his seat, exhaustion etched on his features.
“I’m at my best when I’ve had eight hours’ sleep.” Samson, having demolished his food, rose to his feet and stretched. Waving a hand, he headed in the direction of his cabin. One by one the others followed until Wilder and Jenny were alone.
She went to him and stood between his knees. “Do you want to sleep?”
Even though his eyes were tired, his smile was mischievous. “Among other things.”
“How about we take a shower and then decide whether sleep or other things come first?”
The shower cubicle was barely big enough for Wilder, so some creativity was needed to fit them both under the jets of icy water. He pressed Jenny up against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Fuck me until today never happened.”
Wilder’s appreciative growl echoed off the tiles as he lowered his head to bite the tender flesh of her shoulder. Velvet heat drove into her. Her panting combined with his urgent groans. Wilder’s scent, his taste, his body rubbing and grinding against her own . . . everything about him was perfection. Slowly, tormentingly, he drew out, one hand moving down so his thumb could tease her clit. Then he slammed his cock back into her so hard she saw stars.
Jenny’s hips jerked in time to his, rocking and pounding. She grabbed his ass, digging her nails into his skin, feeling the shudder that ran through him. He snarled, biting her shoulder and neck, moving up to her jaw. When he reached her l
ips, Wilder plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with such intensity she almost came.
The pleasure building within her was driving her crazy. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his back, pressing her breasts against his chest, sinking her teeth into his pecs. He cried out, whether in pain or pleasure, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. The pressure built, his slick fullness driving in and out, his thumb grinding out an insistent demand.
She was whimpering now, biting him anywhere she could. As her climax built, she jerked him closer to her, urging him on with her hands and legs. Wilder slammed relentlessly into her, groaning each time their bodies connected. At last it hit. Spasms wracked her, excruciating pleasure spreading all the way to her curling toes. She threw her head back and howled. Wave after wave crashed, keeping her on the highest crest. Still Wilder fucked her, and still she came, her muscles clenching hard around him. Wilder’s harsh cry filled her ears as his cock pulsed and she felt the molten heat of his come deep within her.
Jenny went limp. Wilder lifted her higher so he could ease out of her. Turning off the water, he carried Jenny through to the bedroom and, still wet, laid her down on the bed. Lying next to her, he drew her into his arms. “Now we’ll sleep.”
Jenny didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when she opened her eyes to find Wilder watching her face. But she knew what time it was by the unique light outside the window. She stretched her arms above her head, enjoying the smile in Wilder’s eyes as he watched her.
He jerked his head toward the window. “One last time?”
Jenny felt sharp tears prick the backs of her eyelids as she nodded. One last shift under the midnight sun before we face the unknown.
There was a poignancy to their movements as they stepped out into the snow. If they failed in their mission to stop Fenrir, the world they knew would cease to exist. Even if they succeeded, their own world would look very different. They no longer needed this glorious golden light to bring about the changes in their bodies, but Jenny was relieved to know they still craved it.