Betraying Destiny (The Omega Prophecy Book 3)

by Nora Ash

  I glared at his smiling face. Of-fucking-course the only thing he cared about when hearing, “hey, your mate’s a demigod!” would be the part where he didn’t have to worry about breaking me with too much sex.

  “Did you miss the part where y’all had to carry me around all day because I’m still hurting from last night?”

  He shrugged and leaned in to steal a kiss. “It’s like sparring. In the beginning, you hurt, but the more you do it, the more your body gets used to the strain. Eventually it’s no longer painful.”

  “Or,” I said, pulling back from his kiss to continue glaring, “it’s like kicking a god in the balls. He’s a god, so he’ll probably be fine, but he’d still very much like to avoid it.”

  Bjarni heaved a sigh. “Again with the testicle threats. We just want to pleasure you, sweetie. We need to.”

  “He is right,” Modi said quietly. “I need this, Anna. I need you.”

  I leveled my glare at him, but the earnestness in his eyes made me bite the inside of my cheek as I reconsidered. They were all plenty capable of forcing their will when it came to sex, but they weren’t. Not this time.

  Bjarni curved his strong hands over my lower belly. “We’ll be gentle,” he murmured. “Please, little goddess. We need to worship you.”

  Goddammit. “Fine. Fine. Fuck’s sakes.” I leveled them both a glare for good measure and folded my arms over my chest. “At least turn Mimir around this time.”

  “There is really no need, plum; I’ve seen you intimate a great many times,” Mimir protested. “One more won’t matter.”

  I glared at the talking head. “For a bodiless man, you’re a real pervert.”

  “I am merely academically interested,” he said mildly. "Mating habits have always fascinated me. Of course, when I was still intact, so to speak, I did occasionally indulge past scholarly interests.”

  I gave my alphas a pleading look.

  “On it,” Bjarni chuckled as he got up from the trunk and turned to the prophet. “Sorry, old man. If we make it out of here, I’ll find you a nice whorehouse to vacation in, hmm?”

  Mimir sighed. “I guess that’s better than nothing. But I have rarely seen an omega who enjoyed her knottings as thoroughly as your mate.”

  I choked out a sound of protest as blood filled my cheeks, but Modi wrapped his fingers around my chin and pulled my focus back to him. The smolder in his eyes made tendrils of awareness crawl up my spine, the embarrassment of Mimir’s observations fading into the background.

  Some three hours later, as I was falling asleep on Grim’s chest, surrounded by my four other, sated mates, I had the thought that maybe the prophet hadn’t been entirely wrong.

  Twenty-Seven

  Annabel

  I had expected Hel’s residence to be a dark fortress—some shadowy counterpoint to the gilded halls of Valhalla and guarded by nightmarish creatures.

  Instead what we found at the epicenter of the maelstrom of souls was a cauldron the size of a small house, sitting in the middle of a barren field scattered with broken skeletons. There was no sign of life—or unlife, as it were—anywhere, except from the eternal pouring of souls into the cauldron.

  “Where is she?” I asked, frowning as we stopped at the edge of the field. “Where is her throne?”

  Grim glanced at me—the only acknowledgement he made that I knew of her throne, thanks to his plans for my ascension he had accidentally shared with me while we made love that one time. “She resides inside.”

  “Inside?” I asked. “You mean…?”

  “Inside the cauldron, yes,” Mimir answered. “She draws her powers from it.”

  “Then that is where we too will go,” Modi said. He tightened his grip on the pommel of his sword and stared at the cauldron. “And one way or another, we will convince the Queen of the Dead to release our mate.”

  Bones crunched underneath our feet as we made our way across the lifeless field. I hadn’t been able to see how the skeletons lay intermingled in layers upon layers from the edge, but it made for an unsteady surface as we worked our way across it.

  My mates, of course, seemed unhindered by the marrow-laden terrain—probably a benefit of being full gods, I thought bitterly as I yet again got my foot stuck in a gap and nearly faceplanted onto a broken femur.

  Saga caught me by the neckline of my armor and pulled me back upright. “I wish you would let one of us carry you, sweetling,” he said for the umpteenth time.

  “Yes, well, the plan is to intimidate Hel with all my newfound power. I doubt that’ll go particularly well if I have to be carried into her home like an overgrown toddler,” I bit, more irritated with my own inability to find my footing than my mate’s continued desire to baby me at every turn.

  “The girl is correct,” Mimir joined in. “She is prophesized to stop the unstoppable. Best she make an entrance worthy of a hero, if you wish for Hel to listen.”

  “Hel will listen,” Magni said, a quiet note to his voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “We will make sure of that.”

  Mimir rolled his eyes. When they met mine, he muttered, “Alphas.”

  I cracked a smile at him. “You spoke the prophecy that included five of them. You could have picked, I don’t know, just one nice, genteel beta god instead.”

  Three furious growls echoed from the group of men around me—from Saga, Modi, and Magni. Grim only leveled me with an icy stare. Bjarni pinched my ass—hard.

  “I’m kidding. God. Learn to take a joke,” I huffed, though I didn’t hate that they got worked up at the thought of being replaced.

  “I simply speak what I see,” Mimir said mildly. “I never pick.”

  “You can take your chosen mates up with the Norns later, if you must,” Modi said, and the dark look he gave me before he refocused on the cauldron ahead suggested I better make it abundantly clear later that I was, indeed, kidding, or he’d make sure to remind me why I didn’t want a beta husband. “This is not a social call. There is no time for shenanigans.”

  Shenanigans. I bit my lip and shot him a fond look. He might have looked like a hunky twenty-something, but he occasionally acted like an old man. I wouldn’t have been too shocked if he occasionally shook his fist at rambunctious youths ruining his lawn.

  Modi, seemingly sensing my gaze on him, shot me a firm look. “Eyes front, Anna. Focus.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I sighed, but I did obey. My mate was in commander-mode now, and it was in my best interest to fall in line.

  “I suspect he prefers ‘Daddy,’” Bjarni mumbled by my side, drawing a guffaw from Saga.

  Modi gave him a glare over his shoulder that could have turned a lesser man to stone. “Do not encourage her. Not another word out of any of you! You do realize that if we fail at this mission, she is stuck here forever? I will not allow that. Do you understand me? Now focus.”

  Bjarni raised his eyebrows at me when Modi whipped back around, taking the lead, but he wisely chose not to respond.

  “Sounds like you’re lucky Daddy didn’t threaten to turn the car around,” Saga muttered as he closed in on my other side.

  Modi pretended not to hear him.

  It didn’t take many yards before any amusement left us one by one. As we moved closer to the cauldron, the souls flowing into it from high above became distinguishable. I saw faces in there. Washed of color and twisted in fear, each soul sucked into the black depths of that cauldron emitted a wail that could only be heard because we were so close, and there were so many of them.

  It hadn’t dawned on me until then what death was truly like. Curious, perhaps, for a woman stuck in the Realm of Death for weeks, but where I had felt the embrace of this gray nightmare suck any and all joy from the moment I had stepped foot in this place, I hadn’t experienced… this.

  I stared at the souls disappearing into the cauldron. These were regular humans, just… people who’d died, and this was the afterlife that awaited them.

  “What does she do to them onc
e they’re in there?” I asked quietly.

  “She drains their spark and leaves them empty husks she can command. They become her army,” Mimir said.

  “Their spark?”

  “The kernel in your soul that makes you you,” he explained. “Your will, your personality… that spark that only you possess.”

  I swallowed thickly. “No one deserves that. These souls… They were people. Their only crime is that they died.”

  A cool hand clasped my shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is the Queen of Hel. She decides the fate of every soul who enters her realm,” Grim said with a measure of kindness in his voice likely brought on by the ache in our bond. “We are here to gain your freedom, mate, so we can bring an end to Ragnarök. This is not our fight, and if we attempt it, we might lose everything.”

  “He is right,” Mimir broke in. “Defeating Hel is not your destiny, plum. Do not deviate from the path the Norns have woven for you. Too much is at stake.”

  I gritted my teeth and looked back up at the wailing souls. The terror on those pale faces jabbed deep into my gut. So much for eternal peace. “It’s not right,” I whispered.

  “No. It’s not,” Magni agreed softly. He wove the fingers not clutching his weapon through my own. “But neither is Ragnarök. You are the only one who can stop all nine worlds from ceasing to exist, pet—the only one. Are you willing to risk the end of everything to right this wrong?”

  I breathed deeply and slowly shook my head. They were right. If I died here, I would doom every living soul to this fate. Or worse.

  The responsibility hadn’t sunk in before now. Not fully. I had been too focused on the aching matebonds and my instinctive and overwhelming fear of losing the five men who were tied to my soul. I hadn’t truly taken in that if I failed, if I didn’t live up to the fate bestowed upon me by the Norns, I would be responsible for the death of everything.

  Warm hands rubbed circles against my back. I let out an explosive breath as my field of vision narrowed to pinpricks, then slowly expanded again, the weight of our mission settling in my chest. There was only one goal. Nothing else could matter. Not yet.

  “Let’s go.” Modi’s voice was still a command, but there was a softer quality to it as he gave me a nod.

  I kept my power close as we walked the final yards to the ominous black vessel, and when the lamentations became loud enough to pierce my heart, I hardened it until the tears pricking my eyes dried.

  Only one goal.

  Modi climbed the side of the cauldron with ease, followed by Grim, who practically scaled it like a cat. They both reached a hand down, and Bjarni propped me up on his shoulders so they could grab me under the armpits and haul me up.

  The rim of the iron vessel was plenty large enough to stand on, but I crouched between Grim and Modi and clung to the edge as I carefully peered down.

  I don’t know what I’d expected to see—perhaps a skeleton queen perched on a throne with her maw open so she could swallow the incoming souls. What I saw, however, was nothing but swirling, silvery threads against a background of inky darkness, absorbing each soul as they plummeted through it.

  “Who knew Níðhöggr’s well could look downright cozy? Y’know, by comparison,” Bjarni said as he pulled himself up next to Grim and gazed into the cauldron.

  Modi made a noise of agreement.

  “Well, I’m sure our sister will have as warm a welcome for us as the dragon did for you. Let’s go,” Saga said as he and Magni joined us.

  With a deep breath, he swung both legs over the inside edge—and dropped into the cauldron.

  Twenty-Eight

  Grim

  Braziers offering a cold, blue-tinged light cleaved a path through the darkness ahead of us. High above, the unfortunate souls circled before floating in a steady stream above the path and beyond. I couldn’t see what lay ahead, but I knew. I felt her.

  “I guess follow the souls to find Hel?” Annabel asked. She was holding Mimir’s head, and the way she was clutching it, he might as well have been a favorite teddy bear.

  An old memory of watching her as a child with her much-loved bear tight in her arms made me reach out to place a hand on her lower back, reminding her that she was not alone.

  “Yes,” Mimir confirmed. “The souls will lead us to her throne room.”

  Modi took the lead again. Thor’s son had been changed by his connection to Annabel as thoroughly as the rest of us, but it seemed even she couldn’t erase his innate leanings to playing the commanding hero—a gift he’d inherited from his father, I suspected.

  The rest of us encircled Annabel and followed close behind, weapons drawn.

  Hel’s halls were quiet, save for the wails from the souls above. They were faint, but constant, and gave the impression of a wind blowing through a forest. We followed them down the wide corridor and through several darkened passageways as quiet as the barren field above, until we finally entered a grand chamber deep within the bowels of Hel’s palace.

  And there she sat, our sister, on her throne of bones with her dark, gray-streaked hair adorned by a single iron band.

  She was as pale as I, but where my skin was icy, hers was ashen, the sickly hue underlined by the snow white, gossamer dress draped over her gaunt figure. Behind her, the souls of the dead swirled slowly, as if waiting their turn to be drained by the Queen of Hel.

  “What a pleasant surprise, brothers,” our sister said, her obsidian eyes sweeping over our little group.

  By my side, Annabel cringed. I pressed my hand firmer against her, lending her my strength. Hel’s voice cracked like a whip—even for a god, it was hard to withstand.

  “And you brought company,” Hel continued. “Welcome to my humble abode, Thorssons. I wonder—does your daddy know where you are? I don’t think he would be too pleased, hmm?”

  She smiled at Modi, revealing a set of too-sharp teeth. “But then again, I hear he is already so very unhappy with you both. Something about mating a whore?”

  I controlled the burst of anger flaring in my gut, knowing I had to keep my head cool. Unfortunately, neither Bjarni nor Magni managed to contain their snarls.

  Hel clicked her tongue and refocused on Bjarni. “Oh, no, baby brother. Don’t tell me those rumors are true as well? You do share a mate with our father’s enemies? How… embarrassing.”

  “You know very well that your brothers share a mate with the Thorssons, witch,” Mimir broke in. “Spare us the games. We are here with a purpose.”

  Hel shifted her gaze to him, arching one eyebrow high. “Prophet. I did hear you were spending some time in my lands. How courteous of you to stop by. And you are here with a purpose, you say? Intriguing as always, but I’m afraid you have caught me at a bad time. Places to be, worlds to devastate… You know how it goes. Ragnarök is all fun and games, but the planning. Everything runs on such a tight schedule.”

  “This won’t take much of your time, sister,” I said. “We are here to request that you release our mate. Then we will be on our way, and you can return to your plans.”

  Hel flicked her eyes to me, then to Annabel, where they lingered long enough that my muscles strained with the desire to step between them.

  The queen’s lips twitched up into a surprised smile before she looked back to me. “You wish to return the human to the living? Did you not kill her yourself, my sweet brother?”

  I clenched my teeth against the wave of shame at her words. Regret would not help me now. “It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. And now she must be returned to where she belongs—to the world of the living.”

  Hel tutted and shifted her focus back to Annabel. A look of mild disdain crossed her harrowed features. “Mistake or no, the girl is dead. No mortal leaves my realm once they have set foot here. No exception was made for Frigg’s son, and none will be made for your mate.”

  “Well... the girl is not entirely dead,” Mimir said. “Her physical body was not killed before she came through to this plane, and as it happens, she has eate
n of Idunn’s tree. It is possible to return her to the living world without encountering any, ah, unpleasant side-effects.”

  Hel tilted her head as she looked more intently at Annabel. Slowly, her lip curved up in another half-smile. “I see,” she said at length. “More lives than a cat, hmm? No wonder he was so adamant she die.”

  Cold dread closed around my lungs. He had allied with her too. Of course he had.

  “He?” Modi demanded. “You know the identity of he who has brought Ragnarök to our doorstep?”

  “Naturally,” Hel said as she gave me a meaningful smirk. “Our goals do align, after all. He gets his revenge, and I… I finally get to leave.”

  Bjarni blinked. “What do you mean you get to leave? You’re the queen of this damned place. Leave whenever you bloody want.”

  Hel pursed her lips. “Why do you think I never stopped by for family dinners, baby brother? I am bound here until Naglfar sets sail on Ragnarök’s winds. Unnumbered years I have resided here, trapped just as tragically as the souls I rule over. Waiting. So no, I am afraid that I will not be helping the woman prophesized to prevent Ragnarök’s arrival escape her tomb.”

  “We could help you change your mind,” Magni growled as he grabbed the pommel of his sword. “I suspect you would quickly come to appreciate your current position if you were to experience the funnel of souls for yourself.”

  I gritted my teeth and gave a sharp yank through my connection to Annabel to get the redheaded moron to shut up. All five of them cringed at the brutal jerk on their innermost.

  In front of us, Hel’s smile turned sharp and dangerous. She leaned forward to rest an elbow on the arm of her throne and her chin against a couple of fingers. “Do you think, Thorsson? Who knows—perhaps a warrior godling waving a sword around is enough to send the Queen of Death to her own grave. Care to step closer and quench my curiosity?”