by A. K. Koonce
Rhys’s sky blue eyes sparkle, reminding me of the only thing I’ll miss about Midgard. Their sky is bright, warm, and free, exactly like Rhys.
“Where have you seen ten packs, Rhys?” I ask her directly, the hard glare of my gaze settling on her. I dare her to tell me a lie.
She laughs, then sobers when she realizes all three of us are staring at her. Latham and Aric easily overheard our conversation earlier with their enhanced hearing, each of them picking up on the easy inflection of the falsehood she spilled.
She should know better after traveling through three realms together. She can’t keep anything from us.
Perhaps that’s why she’s so refreshing. Sin doesn’t taint Rhys the way it does the rest of us.
There’s a purity in her that will draw more than just the three of us into her orbit.
Hell is going to dig its claws into Rhys and rip out every pretty little piece of her soul, coating it in thick, inky, sin filled mire.
“You know… romantic comedies… action flicks… Chris Hemsworth…” She rattles on with a blush staining her cheeks that has nothing to do with the heat rising off of Hell’s river.
“Porn.” Aric smirks as he shifts back to the asshole he always is.
Rhys’s eyes grow wide, but the blush deepens until it’s nearly red, admitting it without words.
“You watch porn?” Latham asks, interest lighting his eyes like he never expected such a sin from such an innocent girl.
But Rhys isn’t innocent.
She’s pure goodness.
There’s a difference.
She shrugs lightly.
Latham’s bewildered eyes widen. “Like… what kind?”
And then even Aric is more than interested in her response.
I have to admit I’m fucking dying to know as well, but I try to smooth the awkward smile on her beautiful face.
Reality and too many dark memories sink back into me. For some people, sex isn’t comfortable or freeing.
And I hate the idea of this conversation making her feel that way.
No one should feel that way.
“That’s enough,” I rumble in her defense, and Rhys’s stunned gaze flicks back to mine. “Sex is natural. However someone finds pleasure isn’t your fucking business.”
But it was Latham and Aric’s business last night.
The same sultry image of her throwing her head back, of her beautiful tits thrusting outward, hard and rosy, fills my mind until I harden myself and scowl at the three of them for dragging me into the conversation I rationally know I walked straight into.
I swallow hard.
No. Rhys isn’t innocent at all.
She’s a fucking temptress.
A siren calling me to deeper depths I’ll surely drown in.
I storm away, heading for the now unguarded bridge to the underworld.
“Makes sense.” Aric shrugs as they all trail after me. “She likes to watch as much as she likes being involved.”
My teeth grind.
“That’s why you liked watching me kiss Aric,” Latham muses.
“I’m damn sure it was me kissing you, pretty boy,” Aric counters. “And you fucking liked it.”
“What’s not to like?” Latham sounds genuinely confused.
“Exactly,” Rhys says, all dreamy and content.
Gods. Make it stop.
“Can we focus?” I snap, tiring of the conversation that’s heading nowhere good. I’m not in the mood to hear more about their sexual exploits when I’m having enough trouble burying Rhys’s moans into the deep recesses of my mind.
Who the fuck am I kidding? If anyone is lying, it’s me. I’m buried so far in my fabrications I’m borderline delusional.
Forget Rhys?
Somehow I doubt I’ll be able to forget anything about her. Perhaps I won’t. Maybe memories of her will be a gift. I’ll only pull them out on my darkest days. They’ll be a spark in the darkness, a pinprick of light in the onyx nights ahead.
Rhys reminds me of what I used to be. Of what I used to have.
Of everything I’m now denied.
She’s the pure embodiment of everything awakening in my tainted soul that I was sure shriveled away long ago.
“So where are we going now?” Rhys practically jogs to keep up with my longer strides, and I slow marginally. Not enough to show her I care about her wellbeing, but enough so she can walk at a fast clip without falling on her face and landing in the river of fire.
That fucking cat of hers laps up the flames of the river in a bizarre sight I can’t stand to look at.
I sigh and keep walking at my casual pace that has the woman at my side running ragged.
I’ve saved her enough for one day. Deep down, I know that if she can’t handle Hell’s Gate, she’ll never survive what’s inside.
I don’t want to see her damaged like I am, her light snuffed out by the hardships that plague the desolate realm beyond these gates.
Every bone in my body wants to protect her from what lies ahead, but she signed her fate the day she decided to follow us to Hell.
Not that I wouldn’t have dragged her there myself if she refused, but that was before I knew her. Before I witnessed her strength and magic and heart.
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.
“Torben?” Slender fingers curl around my arm. Her skin is soft and creamy against my golden coloring, darkened from too many years of living in Hell.
“Hmm?” I hum distractedly, solely focused on where she’s touching me.
“Are you okay?” Rhys asks genuinely. I almost forgot what it was like to have someone worry about me. It’s been so damn long.
It’s strange.
“I—” I’m speechless is what I am, but I’m not going to tell her that. Firelight flickers in her blue eyes, warming them until they glow like the golden gates of Asgard.
“I’m fine,” I finally manage.
“I’ve been hearing that word a lot today,” Rhys mutters, clearly not believing a word of it. “Aren’t you happy to be going home?” She eyes the towering castle in the distance. It juts against the crimson sky like it’s giving it a giant middle finger. The impressive stone structure is our last stop before it’s too late to turn back.
And it’s definitely not a place I’ve ever attributed to the word home.
I want to tell her to run in the other fucking direction, but my tongue glues itself to the roof of my mouth, refusing to work properly.
“I don’t think any of us are all that excited to be back,” Aric answers darkly, saving me from my brief mutism.
Rhys skips ahead of us and turns sharply, her pale blonde hair whipping over her shoulder as she stares us down.
“I don’t understand.” She shakes her head as she says it. “Why not?”
My jaw jumps, and I don’t dare look to Aric and Latham.
We have our orders, and they know the punishment for spilling Hela’s secrets. None of us fully know the extent of Hela’s plans for Rhys, but she wanted her removed from Midgard for a reason. Her mother was no more than a lure.
“It’s Hell, Love.” Latham scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s pretty different from what you’re used to in the Realm of the Living.”
She turns in a circle, motioning around her like that part was obvious, and I carefully move her away from the edge of the river gurgling and spitting fire just behind her.
Gods, this girl is never going to survive here without our help.
“We all serve our purpose here,” Aric states cryptically in a voice that’s dark and dry, lacking his earlier warmth.
Rhys nods, understanding softening her expression, though I know she doesn’t truly comprehend. Not yet, anyway, but if she follows us into Hell, she will. That’s not a promise, it’s a fact.
“The pack was the same. Everyone has a role, some much more glamorous than others.” A shiver works down her spine, and I can tell she’s thinking about the role she almost had at the hands of the
sadistic mate she rejected. “Anything is better than what I walked away from.” Resolve straightens her spine, and I want to growl at what we saved her from.
Dead fucker got what was coming to him, if you ask me.
And that’s just further proof that my soul is as black as Aric’s or Latham’s now. There’s not one ounce of sympathy in me for the way that asshole died. Anyone who mistreats Rhys will get the same. And that is a promise.
“Come on,” Latham urges, trying to cover the awkward tension that just infiltrated our group. “We’re almost there.” Their fingers lock together like an intricate knot and he tugs her after him, heading straight for Hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Like a Dog
Rhys
They’re not telling me something. I feel it the same way I can feel how much our relationships have changed. I’m not just a job to them anymore, and they’re not just the three hot assholes who waltzed into my life and messed it all up.
And if I’m being truly honest, they didn’t mess it up at all. I’m not sure I was living until now. I’ve never felt more alive.
I’m no longer the pack’s punch line, nor their punching bag. I think… I think I’m starting to belong somewhere, or at least with someone—three someone’s to be precise—and that feels… good. Nearly as good as it was being between Aric and Latham. The pleasure is different, but both kinds are just as addictive.
Aric, Latham, and yes, even Torben have embedded themselves into my heart more than anyone ever has before.
I’m not the same girl I was when they arrived, and I’d like to think these men are different now too.
We mean something to each other. We’re a misfit pack now. So why the fuck are they keeping secrets from me?
Latham’s fingers tighten on mine, his thumb stroking sure, even sweeps over my skin. It settles the worry swirling through my mind and my heart skips a beat at the crooked smile he offers. I could lick that dimple that pops in his cheek just above the curve of his lips.
Bringing my hand to his mouth, he brushes a sweet kiss over my knuckles in a possessive way that has my ovaries swooning.
It’s the perfect distraction from the scorching hot metal bridge we’re crossing. The molten iron sears away at the soles of my boots, and I don’t dare touch anything for fear of losing flesh. The sizzling river rushes below us, promising death if I lose my balance and fall in. Torben’s right at my back like a giant bodyguard. I swear he thinks I’m going to have a ditzy blonde moment and just teeter off the edge and go for a quick flaming hot swim.
I could grumble about it, because so far every time he’s had to save me has either been because I was following their directions or for a good cause, but there’s something oddly endearing about the giant man worrying about me enough to be on alert.
And I have the feeling he doesn’t want me to notice. So I’ll play blissfully unaware while silently letting him protect me in that brooding, surly way of his.
“Alright, so far I took on ice giants, survived a kraken, tricked an ogre over a cliff, and rode a dragon—”
“Yeah, you did,” Aric adds to that last one. He sounds so cocksure, but honestly, he should be. I clench my thighs just thinking about our time together until I force myself to focus as we step off the end of the bridge and gather there.
“What’s next?” Apprehension flits through my stomach like a hummingbird on crack. I get that we’re not going to just get to waltz into Hell. One can only hope, but I’ve never been the lucky type.
But really, what else could there be? I see the castle, it’s right there.
My mom is right there.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone this eager to cross Hell’s gates.” Torben’s censure cuts through me as easily as a knife through butter.
“I’m not eager to go to Hell,” I correct him with a shake of my head. “I’m eager to see my mother.”
“Of course you are,” Latham soothes. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her.”
He says it like he doesn’t know, and I wonder how much they knew before they were sent to fetch me.
“I’ve never met her.” I swallow carefully and pretend not to feel the sting of those words. The little girl who spent every birthday wishing for her mother is bared to them, that vulnerable part of me wide open for them to see.
I try to cover it, but Torben surprises me by lifting my chin with a large, hooked finger. “There’s no shame in missing what you should’ve had.” Mossy green eyes bore intently into mine. It’s like he knows just how many stars I wished on, how many nights I lay awake waiting on her, how many hopeless days passed before I finally gave up.
Sure, I wondered about a father from time to time, but it isn’t the same. Part of me has always felt like I could hear her calling to me. Like her voice was always burned into the back of hidden memories I just couldn’t reach.
And Torben, he understands because he’s just as broken as I am.
Our damage breathes between the scant inches separating us.
Just like that, he gives me permission to grieve, and it’s the greatest gift I’ve ever received.
No one tells you it’s okay not to be okay. That it’s okay to cry, to yell, to feel. To wish on a million stars and be disappointed when none of them come true. It’s okay to fall apart sometimes, as long as we find ourselves again in the aftermath. And more importantly, that it’s okay to find new happiness.
Mine just happened to come in the shape of three hellish gods I never saw coming.
The way Torben looks at me forms an unbreakable bond, and if nothing else ever develops between us, we have this trust like I’ve never felt with anyone in my entire life.
I swallow and the warrior god drops his hand after a prolonged moment. I miss his touch when it’s gone and I dip my head, sure it’s written all over my face.
Loki mewls, transforming before my eyes in a ball of fire that fizzles out into the form of a small gray house cat. The four of us peer down at the little creature now swaying around my ankles
“Why’d he do that?” Aric asks gruffly.
I shrug, but then the tiny creature prowls toward Aric. It sits down promptly and stares up at the man, waiting.
Latham looks hesitantly toward Aric. The dragon shifter cocks his scarred eyebrow, glaring at the pet like it’s a ticking time bomb.
Which I guess he kind of is.
“Why’s he looking at you like that?” Latham asks quietly like any wrong move could have them right back on the cat’s shit list.
Aric tilts his head this way and that. The cat holds the man’s gaze with a poker face I’ve never seen on my sweet kitten.
“Alright, fine!” Aric throws his hands in the air before slipping his hand into his pocket.
He pulls out the bag. Loki’s bag, apparently.
The possessive cat meows as if he’s disappointed at the shifter’s petty theft.
The bag gets laid out on the ground, and Loki swiftly curls up in the center of it.
“I guess he wants to be carried now.” Latham shakes his head at the spoiled brat, while I smile like he’s the cutest little cat in the whole wide world.
“Here.” Latham waves his hand and procures a fine porcelain water bowl as well as a canteen, pouring some water for Loki before passing it to me with a look that says to finish the rest.
I know they’re worried about me. I’m parched, so I don’t hesitate. The cool water is refreshing against my heated, dry throat. All this ash can’t be good for a person’s health.
Then again, when you’re immortal, maybe that’s not a concern.
Aric takes the bowl and squats down to offer it to Loki. Then he pulls out a piece of dried meat from his pocket, and I’m really starting to wonder just what all he has hoarded away in those jeans. He extends the piece of meat to the cat, and watching this monster of a man take to my pet is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
The cat sniffs the meat with a disgusted look before sniffing
the contents of the bowl. Loki takes a small pretentious sip, but other than that he gets back to his resting.
Aric shakes his head and pockets the dried meat once more.
“I saw the thing drink fire. I don’t think we have to worry about keeping it hydrated,” Torben grumbles. “The hellcat is useless.” Torben’s clearly not at all appreciating my cat for the badass he apparently is.
“He’s got a damn good bite on him.” Aric winces, rubbing absently at the perfectly healed bite mark on his leg. There’s not even a scar thanks to his advanced healing, but I have a feeling it’s an injury he won’t soon forget.
We let my cat rest for a few minutes while I finish the canteen. When we start off again though, Loki quickly pounces out of his bag that he all but demanded from Aric. He stays close to me, not letting me far from his sights. I smile down at my strange little guardian who might forever be a mystery to me.
All the conversation turns to Loki as we trek up the path that leads to the castle, and I know it’s an easy way for us to move past the heavy moments we’d been in a few minutes earlier. Loki pads along, taking time to occasionally bat at the rustling blades of grass or pounce on weird-looking insects that are so far removed from the mortal realm it’s disconcerting.
When the conversation grows quieter and then stops altogether, I know we’re nearing our destination.
Or worse.
I pick up Loki, pet him between his ears, and quickly pop him back into the bag. “Stay there,” I warn, and he gives me the most sarcastic look, like he can’t believe how our roles have reversed and I’m guarding him.
Either way, I zip the bag shut, leaving just enough space to allow some decent airflow, and move to shoulder the pack before Aric plucks it from my fingers again.
A grateful smile pulls up my lips and then I’m listening to the guys talk strategy, leaving me completely in the dark as to what the hell is going on as they guide me behind a large boulder on the outskirts of the looming castle.
I peer over it as I listen to them talk about a dog or a wolf or something that guards the gate, just making out the shadowy figure of a sleeping creature. The gates to Hell are a huge iron contraption with intricate scenes embossed in the thick, dark metal. A large chain slinks along the ground like a great fiery snake, attaching to a collar full of spikes that protrude outward in every direction from the beast’s enormous neck.