Fate of the Gods 01 - Forged by Fate (14 page)

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for things to happen this way. For you to be hurt.” He tilted her chin up so he could see her cheek, his fingers gentle. “If I’d only been a moment earlier, I could have stopped him. You’re going to be purple and green by morning.”

She pressed her face against his skin and let him hold her. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could say to reassure him. Or what it meant that another woman took her place with Adam tonight. She closed her eyes against the images springing immediately to her mind, making her shudder again.

Reu lifted her into his arms, carrying her against his chest the way Adam once had. When she had been so new and so innocent.

She didn’t feel innocent anymore. Things were starting to make sense, but it wasn’t an understanding she wanted. Her stomach twisted into knots of fear and she longed for the confusion she had left behind. When she had not known cruelty or pain or fear. And she was beginning to understand, too, what Reu had said her first night.

This wasn’t how they were meant to live.

The sun sank behind the trees and the sky turned red, then black. Reu drew pictures for her in the stars shining down, telling her the stories God had shared when He had lived among them. He traced the outline of a great man with a spear, and an eye that had been lost in the search for the wisdom to save his son and his people.

“The most worthy of sacrifices,” Reu said, then fell silent.

She felt his discomfort and turned her head to look at him in the moonlight. He was frowning, and though he stared at the sky, she didn’t think he saw the stars.

“How so?” she asked.

“God said seeking wisdom for the benefit of those you must provide for is never a sin, but so often we will find ourselves searching for glory alone, and it’s then that we must stop ourselves.”

Eve shivered and Reu wrapped his arms around her in the grasses, tucking her head beneath his chin. Somehow, as the silence stretched, she was certain they were both thinking of Adam.

Chapter Twelve: 984 BC

“Fresh water, Thorgrim?” She slung the skin from her shoulder and held it out to him.

Thor grinned, taking it from her and drinking deeply. “Not as good as mead, but thank you.”

“Better for you than mead, when you’ve been sweating in the sun all day.” Eve took back the water skin and sat down on the nearby rocks. “Your boats are better and faster than any others, but you spend so much time working to build them, I wonder that you’ve even taken the time to sleep.”

“I’ve taken time for more than sleep, Tora.” He smiled. Odin help him, but she was even named for him in this life. He wondered who above him was struck with such a sense of humor. Or perhaps it was something else. The True God trying to lure him into her arms. He was perilously close to succumbing.

She returned his smile, a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. “Yes, you’ve taken time for mead, as well,” she teased.

He put down his hammer. It was crude, and more often than not, his fist made shorter work of the job, but appearances had to be kept even if Odin had not taken his strength. Eve came to watch him almost daily, bringing water with her, or a small meal of bread and cheese they might share together. He had come to look forward to her teasing, and her laughter when he returned it.

“What else should I find time for?” he asked, letting his gaze drift from her face. The tunic she wore did not quite reach the top of her string skirt, the wide neck leaving much of her shoulders bare, for all the sleeves met her elbow. Often, when she sat, he struggled to keep from staring, hoping for glimpses of her ivory thighs, dusted with soft, fair hairs. He was beginning to think she struck such poses just to tempt him.

Her face flushed a brighter scarlet, but she said nothing, only looking out over the water as if it fascinated her.

Thor walked around the half-finished boat and she shifted to make room for him upon the rock she’d claimed. His tunic did not reach his knees, with the same wide neck of her own and belted at his waist. If he was guilty of looking at her, he had caught her watching him in the same manner more than once. And he had surely tempted her, time and again, when he had stripped off the heavy wool to bathe in the sea after a long day spent sweating beneath the sun. Once he’d even thrown the garment into her lap before launching himself through the water, her laughter in his ears.

But he’d had enough of teasing now, and he thought, perhaps, so had she. “I do not love building boats as much as I do the excuse it gives you to bring me water. And the excuse it then gives me to speak with you.” Thor took her hand in his and kissed it. “I wish to remain as useful as possible to your father.”

Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. “Is that why you work so hard? To prove yourself to my father, that he’ll give me to you?”

He thanked Odin silently for removing his power to control the storms, because if he hadn’t, his eyes would’ve flashed with lightning then, and given him away. As if she could be the property of any man. As if she weren’t glowing with immortality before his eyes.

“I seek to prove myself to you, Tora. That you’ll allow me to care for you, whether your father wishes it or not.”

Surprise flitted across her features and she studied his face. “You are a strange man, Thorgrim. So unlike the others here.”

He smiled, releasing her hand to caress her cheek softly. “Would you prefer I declare you my property and steal you away?”

She laughed. “Father might expect it.”

“Is that how your father met your mother?”

“Their marriage was arranged. To make peace with another village. But he will expect me to marry a strong man, to lead our people.” She frowned, her forehead creasing, and looked away again. “He still wishes for a son. Perhaps the gods will grant him one yet.”

“The gods,” he repeated. He didn’t know what to make of her when she spoke this way. If she meant what she said, or simply offered what was expected. “Do you pray to Freyja for a baby brother?”

Something about her body stiffened and she stood, collecting the water skin. “I should go. I’ve kept you from your work for too long.”

He chuckled at her discomfort and caught her by the wrist before she had gone far enough to evade him. He had to hear the truth this time. If he was going to stay, she had to know she could trust him. He wanted her to trust him.

“Is Freyja not your preferred goddess of fertility? I know there are others. In the south they pray to Isis, or Aphrodite. Hera?” He couldn’t bring himself to name Sif, though it was much more obvious. He couldn’t let the thought of her poison this moment, this happiness. “I suppose you could pray to Frigg, instead.”

“It’s not that.” She twisted her hand to try to free it. “I’m sorry. I really must get back to my weaving.”

“Please, Tora.” He didn’t let her go, pulling her back to him instead, relieved that she allowed it. “Why does this upset you so?”

She stared at his hand on her wrist, her shoulders hunched. He tugged her closer, until she stood between his legs, so he might see into her eyes, even if she would not meet his gaze.

“These gods you speak of,” her words were a whisper. “That I speak of. They’re not real. They’re just myth and legend and men explaining things in the world which they can’t understand.”

Thor laughed, struggled to stop, and then laughed again even more loudly, startling a rabbit from its hiding place and sending it careening out of the brush toward the forest. Eve pried at his fingers to free her arm, no doubt misunderstanding the reason for his amusement.

“Oh, Tora,” he finally gasped. “Dear, sweet, lovely Tora.” He released her wrist and stood, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head beneath his chin. She fit there so perfectly, melting against his body. With relief, he thought. “You confess this to me so urgently, as if you fear some retribution for speaking it. Who do you fear if not the gods?”

“My people.” Her voice was still soft, thick with misery and muffled against his tunic.

“Ah.” He held her for a moment longer, pressing his lips to the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her hair before releasing her. She still smelled of sunshine to him, and spring rains. “They would never trust you to lead them if they knew you didn’t believe.”

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. “So you see, Thorgrim, perhaps I am not very much like the others, either.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you can’t be the only one who believes that way. Nor will you be the last.”

“And if I were born anyone else, it wouldn’t matter.”

“And is being born someone else so simple a thing?” He couldn’t stop himself from goading her on, though she stepped back and looked away. How long had he been waiting for this opportunity? This moment? “What else are you hiding?”

“It hardly matters.” She stared at the water. “You won’t believe it anyway.”

“Won’t I?”

The wind had picked up from the sea, and her hair caught in it, whipping across her face. She brushed a piece away from her mouth. “Do you know much about the southern gods? You mentioned Aphrodite and Isis.”

“A bit.” He didn’t take his eyes from her face. “When I traveled, I learned what I could of other people, other faiths.”

“In your travels, did you ever hear of the god without a name? Sometimes they call him Elohim or Yahweh.”

He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to lie, but not sure how much of the truth he should tell. “Is that your god? This Elohim?”

“I have no god.” She looked back at him, frowning, and her hair flew wild, the sunlight lending it shades of red. “But sometimes, I wish I did. I wish I could have that comfort. Feel the presence of something greater and know myself safe within its power.” She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself. He didn’t think it was from the chill of the wind. “I envy them that, no matter what god they worship. Delusion or not.”

He stroked her hair from her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his palm. It was something that he could give her, he thought. Now. Later. Even if she didn’t know it for what it was. Didn’t know him for what he was. Even if, for the moment, he was barely more than a man, he could be that presence in her life. If she would let him.

Thor closed the distance between them and raised her face to his. Her eyes were still closed, but her hand covered his, holding it against her cheek. When he brushed his lips over hers, she sighed, and he felt her body soften against him.

He kissed her again, wrapping her in his arms, and she kissed him back, eager, hungry. It made him ache for her even more, knowing that this, whatever this was between them, was the exception, not the rule.

She made a soft sound, her mouth warm and inviting, begging for more. He deepened the kiss, tasting her. Honey and fresh, clear water, on her lips.

He pulled away, though he could not let her go, not completely. Not kissing her was bad enough, like a physical pain in his chest. He wanted her, wanted to keep her at his side forever, wanted to make love to her on the pebbled beach, but if he was going to do this, if he was going to stay, he would do it right.

“Oh.” Her hands clung to his shoulders and she hid her face against his chest.

He chuckled softly. “Oh?”

“Oh,” she said again, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relaxing her hold on him and looking up at his face from beneath her eyelashes.

He groaned at the look in her eyes, his hands tightening involuntarily around her waist. The soft, bare skin between her tunic and her skirt, like silk to his fingers. Letting her go when she looked at him like that was impossible. “I’m going to besmirch your honor if you don’t allow me to wed you.”

She smiled, and he thanked Odin that amusement overtook the hunger in her eyes. “What’s to allow? All you need to do is throw me into one of your boats and away.”

“I will not take you forcibly.” The words were feeble. Already he was tempted by the thought. What would she do if he called for his power and stole her away to Asgard? Odin would find her a fascinating creature. They could be married beneath his mother’s tree and feast in the great stone halls. He stopped his train of thought there, shying away from the problems it would cause. The things which stood in his way. He could not think of Sif, now.