Bitten & Beholden (Children of Fenrir Book 2)

by Heather McCorkle

  “Good, now match my breathing,” he said.

  My gaze dropped to his lips. They were just full enough with a distinctive raised edge separating the sensitive pink skin from the cream-colored skin of his face. The desire to press my own lips to them doused the last of my anger. The crawling sensation beneath my skin faded away, but I still couldn’t get my fangs to retract. I breathed as he instructed, trying to find a calm center that simply did not lie within me and never really had. Eyes dropping to watch the rise and fall of his chest, I tried to focus harder. Realizing the distraction of looking at him was no longer helping, I closed my eyes. A few breaths later, my fangs retracted.

  Ty’s grip on me relaxed, and I opened my eyes and leaned back against the bar. Concern pulled his brows together.

  “I take it shifting right now would be bad?” I asked, acutely aware that he still held my arms—and really hoping he wouldn’t let go.

  “Yes. You must be in control of your emotions first. Emotions and instincts are tied together. If your emotions are out of control, your instincts will be as well. If you do not know how to control them before you shift, you will have a very hard time shifting back, among other things.”

  Still working on my breathing, I gave him the toughest look I could manage while being so frazzled. “Other things?”

  “With your instincts out of control you are more likely to kill, or worse, go mad. New varúlfur are supposed to be prepared before they are changed. It is part of why they must be approved by the ráðið.”

  I swallowed hard. “Can you prepare me before I change for the first time?”

  He dipped his head. “If you are strong enough. The full moon is about three weeks away. At least Raul had decent timing when he bit you in. We have until then, and the urge will be so strong that you will need to change, prepared or not. Come on, let’s get that hand cleaned up.”

  The cryptic words soaking in slowly, I allowed him to lead me to the kitchen sink and hold my bloody hand under the cold water. For several moments I watched the silver-hued liquid run from the arched neck of the tap, transfixed. Some of the cuts were deep enough they looked like they needed stitches, but I couldn’t feel more than a dull ache.

  “Do not worry, you will be healed by morning,” he said.

  I wasn’t as concerned by that as I was fascinated that I’d had the strength to shatter a beer bottle in my hand. My thoughts caught on something he had said.

  “Why would going mad be worse than killing someone?”

  His eyes grew hard with a new depth of seriousness. “Because then you would not stop killing. New varúlfur that go mad have to be put down.”

  I swallowed hard. “How often does that happen?”

  That power I had felt in him stirred, grew anxious. It made the hairs on my arms rise.

  “From what I am told, at least a third of all new varúlfur go mad.”

  Head dropping into my hands, I groaned. Ty’s fingers wove through mine. “But they were not as strong as you are, and they did not have me as a kennari.” The softness of his voice was almost intimate.

  “What makes you think I’m strong?” My quavering voice sort of drove the point home.

  His free hand stroked my left cheek. Unable to resist, I leaned into the warmth of his skin.

  “Your power is as bright as Odin’s lightning. I have not encountered a varúlfur that felt this powerful, not even the alphas,” he said.

  He might just be trying to make me feel better, but it was working. More than that, it charmed the hell out of me. I fought the impulse to lean toward his hand as it withdrew from my face. Desperate to retain a touch of the distance I had been trying for, I stood up straighter. After all, I had to focus now more than ever. Going insane wasn’t an option.

  “Mad psychologists aren’t exactly all the rage right now, so let’s definitely try to avoid that happening. Those guys that attacked us on the road said something about not caring if I went insane, that I would serve their purposes either way. What were they talking about and why did they attack us?”

  His brow crinkled over his blue eyes. “I must admit, I am a bit puzzled by that. I had thought they wanted to steal you and make you a member of their pack—the Arnoddr pack—but when James said that, it did not make sense. For one, his alpha, Isak, is a good man who would never approve of a member of his pack attacking and abducting someone.” Scratching at his blond five o’clock shadow, he contemplated. “It does not make sense. Pardon me a moment, please.”

  He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and waited as it rang. I heard it plain as if I held the phone to my own ear. A man answered. They discussed whether or not the man knew about the attack. He assured Ty he did not and that he would hunt down the wolves of his pack who were involved immediately. They said formal-sounding farewells and ended the call.

  “Something else is going on here. I suspect it has to do with the unsanctioned bitings.”

  My head spun. Wasn’t it enough Raul wanted me as his mate and other packs wanted me as their member? What the hell else could there be? “Are we safe here?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  His lack of hesitation made me feel a bit better, but something else became painfully clear. “I take it we aren’t immortal.”

  Glancing sideways at me, he half grinned. “No, just very hard to kill.”

  “So we don’t live forever?”

  “No, but we do live a very long time. And we do not start to really age until our last decade.”

  I forced myself to pause a moment so I didn’t sound too eager. “How long?”

  “About five hundred years.”

  Knees going weak, I had to grab the counter with the hand Ty didn’t have a hold of. Considering I had expected to live to maybe eighty, five hundred might as well be immortal. I had no idea what to do with the short lifespan I’d had, and now this. Not only could I be a psychologist, I had time to go into orthopedics, or hell, I could even be a brain surgeon. With the time I had, maybe I’d even cure cancer. I could really, truly help people. If I didn’t go insane and be put down first.

  “I think I need some air.”

  Blotting at my hand with a paper towel, Ty turned off the water.

  “That is a good idea. We will go for a walk in the forest, it will help you ground and center.”

  He folded my fingers around the paper towel and relinquished my hand. Instantly I missed the feel of his skin against mine.

  “That may as well have been in Icelandic,” I told him.

  Deep laughter rumbled in that hard chest of his, making me miss his touch all the more. He started for the door.

  The glass all over the floor and counter made me pause.

  “Do not worry, we will get it when we come back,” he called over his shoulder as if he had noticed my hesitation without even seeing me.

  Of course he had. The guy was like Yoda. Only problem was, watching his muscular back and perfectly shaped ass as he walked out the door, I realized control was the last thing I wanted him to teach me.

  Chapter Ten

  Ty

  The scents of spruce and pine flowed down my throat, soothing me and helping me focus, as I knew they would do for Sonya. Beneath my feet a pine needle–strewn path provided a cushion that made it feel like walking on exercise mats. Trees reaching over two hundred feet high rose up on both sides of the path, stretching their feathery bows across it overhead here and there. From them came a gentle energy that soothed the wolf inside. Sunlight poured through the branches, dappling the path—and Sonya’s lovely face—with promises of warmth. Birds chirped and sang overhead, some musical, others urgent, as if they knew predators walked below them. Each sound, smell, and sight eased my mind, helped me center. Whether she realized it or not, it would do the same for her.

  “Better already, am I right?” I asked.

  “Much.”

  I made a sweeping gesture. “Nature helps. Varúlfur feel the tie to it more than most humans, but it is more than that.
Manipulating our atoms to shift draws energy from the Earth and the moon.”

  Her delicate dark brows rose. “Why wolves? Or are there other kinds of shifters? Or vampires? Or, hell, zombies for that matter.”

  Her refreshing honesty and curiosity charmed me. I threw my head back and laughed long and hard. “I love how well you are taking this. Zombies are an impossibility, as far as I know. Other types of shifters, yes. I have never met a vampire, but I have heard stories.”

  She did not even miss a beat. “How did Raul know I’d end up being a wolf shifter? Does everyone who is bitten change?”

  And direct as hell. Damn if that did not send a thrill to places that had been hibernating for some time. Or rather, I may be damned that it did. “We can sense our own. When someone has the ability to be a shifter, we know, and we know what kind. And no, those who are bitten who do not have the ability do not change, they die.”

  Her eyes widened but that was it. “So, I was born with this ability?”

  “With the potential. It took the bite awakening it in your DNA to make you a varúlfur, though.”

  “Like an environmental trigger that awakens cancer,” she mumbled. Her heart sped up and the scent of anxiety—dark and thick—rolled off her. The expression on that lovely face was too guarded to make out. She was holding something back, or hiding something. But I did not want to push her too hard or too fast. Trust had to be earned. The scent of anxiety blew away as her focus shifted. I felt the weight of her gaze making its way across my body, though I pretended not to. It felt very, very good.

  “How old are you?”

  Was that the only reason she stared?

  “How old do you think?”

  She slapped my biceps. “Don’t mess with me. Seriously, how old?”

  My gaze dropped as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. Would she think me too old? Twenty-somethings had a way of seeing my age as a point of no return. But the way her eyes shot from my lips to the trees on the other side of the path made me think maybe she would not. And could that be the hint of a hard nipple poking at her tank top? Even if it was, it could be due to the breeze. She was not through the verða yet, which meant she felt the cold far more than I did. It was not right to think of such things. More than not right, it was forbidden. It might not be such a bad thing if the truth made me sound old and boring.

  “I am thirty.”

  Her attention shot back to me. “Seriously? Just thirty? Not two hundred and thirty or something?”

  Well that was a relief. It should not have been, but it was, nonetheless. Eyes widening, I put a hand against my chest as if appalled. “Do I look that old?”

  Rolling her eyes, she smacked my arm again. I did not mind at all.

  “Of course not. You don’t look a day over your prime. I half expected a kennari to be a few hundred years old.”

  “Let me guess, you were thinking that because in all the books and movies the werewolf or vampire is always older than the girl—like pedophile older,” I said.

  She laughed so hard I knew I had hit the mark dead on. “Yes. Though you don’t strike me as the type to watch a lot of movies.”

  Did that mean she thought of me as the romantic hero who would sweep her off her feet? Did she want me to? Feigning ignorance to the reference, I raised a brow at her. “That is where you are wrong about me. I am a huge fan of movies, especially horror movies,” I admitted. Not many people knew that, but telling her felt so natural that it slipped out. And I had to say something.

  “A werewolf who likes horror movies. I kind of love that. So how did you draw the short straw and get the new clueless girl? Surely there are tons of other kennari that could have gotten saddled with me,” she asked, something hidden in her tone.

  My back went rigid before I could stop it. “Not many. Our numbers have greatly depleted due to both our strict laws about changing others, and because of our nature.”

  “Our nature?” she asked gently.

  I could not keep the sadness completely from my expression—nor would it be fair to her, or honest, to do so. “Our instincts often rule us, and our strongest instinct is to fight. It is based off a need to protect our packs, but we are not just wolves, we are human too, so that instinct becomes skewed. Our kind flock to war like ravens, especially when it gets close to our homeland.”

  “Why don’t you change more people? I imagine there are plenty that would be willing.”

  A meadow of brilliant green grass dotted with groups of bell-like blue columbine flowers opened up to our left. The grouping of trees beyond it drew Sonya’s attention. Her gaze went distant, almost trancelike, and her feet started in that direction. Was it a coincidence, or was she drawn to the place? She glanced back at me. Head cocking to the side, lips pursed, I watched her a moment before following.

  I answered as we walked through the tall grass. “Changing others is very dangerous. Not everyone can handle being so in touch with their instincts, even if they are born with the potential to be a shifter. It makes murderers out of some, rapists out of others. Over the centuries we have discovered the risk is too high. Too many had to be put to the reaper.”

  Her face scrunched up in concentration and damn if it was not cute enough to make me ache. Gods, I hoped she made it through the verða. If she did not, I feared it would crush me. “Why wolves? I mean, what determines what type of shifter we are?” she asked.

  Some of the tension eased from me when she did not ask about the reaper. That was a story she was not ready to hear. Mentioning it had been a mistake. I almost managed a smile as I shrugged. “That is debatable. All we really know is that if your ancestors were wolves, you will be a wolf. If they were cats, you will be a cat. Some think we are touched by Fenrir, yet loyal to Odin, others think we are children of Loki.”

  She swallowed hard and the scent of anxiety drifted up from her skin once again. Her brows scrunched together. “Fenrir and Loki?”

  “Loki is a Norse god who battles against Odin and his sons, bringing about Ragnarok—the end of the world. Fenrir is a wolf who is the son of Loki.”

  She let out a long breath. “I know the legends. My dad… He told them to me when I was a kid. What do you believe?”

  We began to work our way up an incline. Her pace put her slightly uphill from me, allowing me to catch a really nice view of her backside. No harm in looking, except for the physical ache the sight of her caused deep inside me. The urge to run my hands up those long legs, over the curve of that ass… Damn, I was failing at keeping this professional. Distance and focus were paramount. Giving in to my desire was not an option. I was one of the first kennari in hundreds of years. To foul this up would not only put an even darker mark on my honor, it would mean her death.

  I forced my mind back to her words. Clearly she was leaving something about her father out, but it could wait. Did I dare tell her my beliefs? Most people had very strict views on gods.

  What the hell. I wasn’t going to hide who I was or how I felt. I had promised her no secrets and I would not go back on that. If I wanted her to be open—and I very much did—then I needed to offer the same. “I believe we are touched by Fenrir, but should be loyal to Odin.”

  “Really? You believe in all that old gods stuff? In Odinism?” She sounded surprised, but not judgmental.

  We crested the small hill and kept going. I increased my pace to walk beside her, because if I did not, I was not sure I would be able to fight the urge to touch her much longer.

  “Religious studies was a minor of mine. The closer you look at the religions of the world, the more you realize they are all based on the same basic story. And the Norse story is older than most, so yes, I believe it to a degree. What about you, were you raised to be religious?”

  We went several strides before she answered. “My dad believed in Odinism. He taught me the eddas, told me the stories, but he never pushed it on me. My mom is of the Cherokee Nation, so she taught me a little of the beliefs of her ancestors. After Dad was gon
e…” Laughter chirped from her, but it was humorless, filled with pain. “I pretty much raised myself. My next meal and getting to school took priority. After that I never put much thought into religion.”

  I tried to hide my shock with a compliment. “Well, you did a fine job.” The old religion was gaining popularity in small pockets of the world, but it was still too rare for this to be a coincidence. I was going to have to research her family.

  She stopped and craned her neck back to look up at me. The light spilling through the trees over her, making her eyes look like sunbursts of gold, distracted me so much I almost forgot what we were talking about. Now that she had mentioned her mother was Cherokee, I did not know how I missed seeing it in her.

  “Really? I’m a struggling student on hiatus who was a bartender in a hole-in-the-wall bar in Nowhere, Idaho. A moment of weakness led to the worst decision of my life, which pretty much ended it as I knew it.”

  I shook my head. “Could have done worse. You could have ended up a drug-addicted prostitute living off the system. And your life has not ended, it has just moved into the next stage.”

  Openmouthed, she stared blankly at me for a moment before nodding and turning away. “Thanks,” she said, then sighed deeply. “It has to be connected. But what could this have to do with my dad?”

  I shook my head. “No idea. You talk about him in the past tense. Can I ask what happened to him?”

  Her jaw tensed and I smelled the musk of her wolf trying to rise. She calmed it into submission with an ease that I would not have thought a newly bitten could manage. Impressive. And very sexy.

  “He was killed in prison by white supremacists who didn’t like him having Norse tattoos when he wasn’t one of them.”