Her Viking Wolves: 50 Loving States, Michigan (27 page)

O
ne moment FJ
is grabbing me by my hair in the ballroom and the next, he’s throwing me through the door of my bedroom, slamming it shut behind us.

The trip from there to here is crazy confusing and I stumble in more ways than one as I regain my footing upstairs.

“What the hell!” I yell out loud, turning to confront the wolf in black wedding leather. He’s now breathing hard in front of me, like it’s him, not me who just went through some huge ordeal.

“You. Are. The. One. Who. Did. Run.
YOU
!” he yells back at me.

“And you literally fucked me because of it!” I yell back. “I’d say we’re even.”

“You would say we are
even
,” FJ repeats, mouth drawing back to reveal teeth clenched in a feral snarl. “One fucking, as is my right by the Detroit pack’s own laws, does not even make. Not after you did attempt to give our claim,
our pup
, to another after you did make vows to us!”

The door opens behind him and Olafr slips into the room. But for some reason, he’s not nearly as grim as he looked downstairs. In fact he’s smiling like he’s just walked in on us having an afternoon frolic. Not Mate War II, with FJ looking at me all Sam Jackson, like he’s getting set to perform the Party Favor ritual right here, right now.

“This is good,
Varra
,”
Olafr says inside of my head.

“What?”
My confusion momentarily suspends my own explosive anger.

“He’s talking to you again. In private. This means he is ready to ‘communicate’ as our father calls it when he and my mother come away from the fight and begin the talk.”

I shake my head, my eyes bulging with disbelief. Because if this is FJ in communication mode, I’d hate to see him in kill mode—oh wait, I did see that. Right before our truly fucked up wedding ceremony. And sorry to say, I’m not seeing much of a difference between how he looked then, and how he’s looking at me now.

“Talk to him,”
Olafr says inside my head.
“Make him understand as you did with me.”

“Okay, Olafr, whatever,”
I say back, before shaking him out of my head.

Then I do something I’ve never done before. Raise myself up to my full height, and look the seething werewolf in front of me in the eye.

“So Dad didn’t think you’d survive the Speak Now ritual but he wouldn’t have wanted you to know that. So I’m assuming when he decided to ‘let’ you marry me, he must have offered you something big to sweeten the deal. And I know gearing up to fight a dragon army ain’t cheap? So how much was it? Two million?”

FJ glares at me, refusing to answer.

“Three million? Seriously, just tell me. I want to know how much.”

“Now you are being unfair,
Varra
,”
Olafr says at the door, looking disappointed.
“You goad him on purpose.”

FJ, however, turns and walks over to my desk where he grabs a pen and a notepad.

“Female, I will now make you aware of two numbers,” he says, coming back over to me. “This is how much your Michigan pack is worth.”

With firm but almost child-like handwriting, he writes down eight figures, which looks about right.

“And this is how much my brother and I are worth…”

He carefully writes down a four followed by four zeroes, which seems about right, because his sword is probably worth a pretty penny these days, being in such good shape. But then he adds five more zeroes.

Wait…what?!?!

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking up from the notepad to FJ who’s now wearing a super smug expression. Then I have to ask. “Not to disparage little Sara’s teaching skills or anything, but are you sure you got that number right?”

However, the smug expression stays firmly in place. “Your father did ask the same question during our marriage contract talk. I will tell you now what I told him. When Aunt Alisha did call upon the Norwegian pack, they gave her the news that money had been set aside for us should we come to your land and your time. For this reason was I given the land upon which several of our villages did sit, along with an honorary title, so I might have dowry enough to bestow upon my fated mate. My ancestors honored their duty well and moreover gave the fruits harvested from the sale of my lands good seeding throughout these many seasons.”

I scrunch my forehead, trying to keep up with his explanation. “Do you mean they spent centuries investing the money set aside for you?”

FJ gives one sharp nod. “Yea,
invested
—this same word did Aunt Alisha use. And for this reason do my brother and I now find ourselves in possession of great fortune. While you did sleep after our first kiss, there came message from the one called Matt. His sorcerer friend gave my sword great study and gleaned that the reason it was able to pierce the terrible serpent’s skin was because it was made of a stronger material than most swords and weapon. Something he referred to as
Damascus
steel. But this kind of steel could not be found in my lands. Found or made. Nay, it did come from far Eastern lands, yet this be the kind of steel we need if we hope to take sword against our serpent enemy.”

Again, I’m having to process his words in order to understand them. But soon enough I figure out he’s talking about Matt, the historian Alisha called in to help her figure out who’d attacked FJ’s kingdom town. And the “sorcerer” must be the wolf biologist they asked to test the blood on the FJ’s sword.

“So before you mated with me, before you came all the way out here to Detroit, you found out you needed steel,” I realize on a whisper.

“Yea, steel,” he says with a grave nod. “Much of it. Enough to provide swords to all the North Wolves.”

I nod, as it all clicks into place. I’d watched just enough of the History Channel to know crafting a sword as fine as the one FJ carries took a while back in the day. And from what he was saying, his people didn’t have that kind of time—or the resources if the kind of steel used in his sword was only produced in the Far East. What FJ needed was some way of producing a shit ton of weapons in the little time they had before the dragons completely took over.

“And we’re the only North American pack with a steel factory,” I conclude out loud.

Another grave nod from FJ. “For this reason, did we make contract with this land’s former fenrir. He who has a son who will not be able to sire a pup of his own because of his love for another man. As the new fenrir of your pack, I will bestow upon it my great wealth. In exchange, your father will oversee the making of many swords with which we will use to vanquish our enemy. While we do this, your brother will rule in my stead until my return. But before I go, your pack must accept me as their fenrir so your brother might rule without question of his…” FJ trails off for a few seconds, obviously searching for a word to explain Clyde’s status as a gay wolf, “…not taking a she-wolf to wife.”

Wow. My whole mind is blinking as everything finally falls into place.

Well that explains why my dad let the wedding happen with a Speak Now ritual attached. If it had gone according to his plan, not only would our pack have gotten all of FJ’s money upon his death, since I’m carrying his baby, but he’d still be able to put Clyde in charge. No harm, no foul to anyone but FJ.

But he hadn’t won. Instead FJ got everything he’d asked for. His swords and the Detroit pack, with me thrown in to sweeten the deal.

I shake my head as the truth of what really happened in that cabin sinks in.

“Good job, FJ,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I underestimated you. I was beginning to think you were just like my father, but you’re way worse.”

FJ goes completely still. “I. Am. Nothing. Like. Your. Father.”

“Well, let’s see…my father’s used me from the day I was born to advance his power. And you’ve used me from the day you found out I was from a family who could get you swords to advance your power. But I guess what you did was completely different because…dragons?” I shake my head at him in mock confusion.

FJ’s nose flares. “Do not open your mouth against me again by comparing me to your father. I order this as your fenrir, Female!”

“If not him. Then who? Because you’ve always got to win, right? Just like him. At any cost? Even my pride? You won’t stop punishing me until I’m either dead or completely vanquished, simpering at your dick like all the other weak she-wolves you fucked before I came along with my kingdom-saving steel.”

Olafr comes over and takes my arm, interceding like a ref in an MMA fight that’s gone too far.

“
Varra
, I understand little of what you say, but I know you accuse my brother of things that are not true. He is right. You should still your tongue before—”

“Fuck you!”
I say, shoving him away from me.
“You would have let him burn me. Because neither of you give two fucks about me or my feelings!!”

I turn my blazing eyes back to FJ, for once totally in touch with the violent anger that defines my pack. “You’re just like my father. You’re a user, FJ. You came here to
use
me. And that’s all you’ll ever be. A user just like my father.”

“I. AM. NOTHING. LIKE. YOUR. FATHER!” FJ roars, his eyes glowing bright in the dimly lit room. “Do you think I wished to keep secrets from you? So many things I promised. For you. Only for you.
Every deed I have done in this land. Every contract I have made. Every promise I have given has been for YOU, Female. And for naught but you.”

“No, for yourself!!” I scream back at him. “So you can win!”

Suddenly FJ grabs me around the back of the neck, pulling me into a kiss so violent, it feels like his lips are devouring mine. I want to push him away. My hands actually land on his chest, preparing to push him away.

But my fucking wolf…

With a moan, I succumb, my arms coming around his neck as I cling to him, pressing my body into his. Desperate for his kiss, even as I sob against his mouth.

“I thought you actually wanted me, without wanting anything from me. I should have kept it all business like you. I never should have let myself fall for your act.”

“
Female
,” FJ groans against my lips, the hand on the back of my neck tightening and loosening, like he’s trying to conquer me and push me away at the same time.

But his next words don’t come out of his mouth. Instead they appear inside my head, low and barely contained.
“Our land has been beset by monstrous serpents, Female. Our family, our people, our minds, everything we have known before you, we now stand to lose. Yet all we have thought about since the time of our mating is you and the babe you carry within.”

His hand tightens on the back of my neck.
“Do you not think I could have simply bought what we needed from your pack without becoming your fenrir? Do you not think that would have been the best choice? But I did what I must, promised what I must, so you could be protected.”

He shakes his head at me, his eyes bitter.
“I did not use you in any of this. I have only sought to keep you safe from those who would do you harm. And I did this, despite the fact you did run from our vows. Despite the fact you would give our babe the name of another fenrir. And you think me like your father!?”

FJ grabs my hand tight and brings it to his beard, covering it with his own as he says out loud, “Everything I do in this time is
for you
,
Varra.
Because you are ours.”

He looks from me to Olafr then back to me again. “Because we love you,
Varra
, more than ourselves. More than our people. More than…anything on this Earth or beyond. We would do anything, including submit to the ways of your people, to keep you protected and safe from harm. You must be safe in this place. You must never be made to run again. I cannot live—I cannot do what must be done if you are not safe. That is why. That is the only reason why. Because we love you above all else,
Varra
.”

“FJ,” I whisper, beginning to understand. Beginning to understand I’m not the only one who feels like a fool for falling too fast for someone who you’re not sure gives one fuck about you. Not the only one scared of the power my fated mate holds over me. Olafr might be a wolf in human form, but FJ and I are the two most frightened animals in the room.

And then it’s not him forcing me to touch him, it’s me stroking my hand over his beard. Me taking his wild hair out of the smooth man bun and running my other hand through its curly mass. Because I want to touch him. Because I have to touch him.

Then it’s me bringing my lips to softly meet his.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. Me making the concession my pride wouldn’t allow me to make before. Not because of his punishment or his threats, but because of his love. Because I now understand how badly I hurt him. “I’m sorry.”

FJ’s eyes squeeze closed like I’m hurting him, like my soft kiss is actually causing him physical pain. And when they open again, I’m surprised to see hot tears burning inside of them.

“
I am NOTHING like your father
!” he says inside my mind.

“I know,”
I answer, beyond sorry for having misjudged him.