Her Viking Wolves: 50 Loving States, Michigan (29 page)

“You told me to call you this morning,” Iggle says, totally unapologetic. She taps her watch. “And I’ve got meetings all day, starting in, like, ten minutes. So here I am. Do you still want to talk to me or what?”

My eyes narrow, noticing something different about Iggle. Not just that she’s actually wearing a watch, an accessory I didn’t even know she owned, but also her eyes. Clear and totally focused.

“When’s the last time you smoked?” I ask her

Iggle laughs. “When are you coming back to work?” she answers. “Because I know that will be the next time when I
do
smoke.”

And that brings a somber pall over the conversation

“I don’t know. Actually that’s why I wanted to talk to you. We’re expecting a very important delivery this morning from the pack factory in Uthbert. And then we’re going to have to take a trip. A long trip. I need to know you’ll be okay with running She-Wolf by yourself while I’m gone.”

“Varra…”
FJ says inside my head.

At the same time, Iggle frowns and says, “Yeah, sure. Anything for you, Tee, you know that. But where are you going? Is this like one of those weird technology-free trips I keep hearing about?” She cuts her eyes towards her bedroom door and grumbles, “Because my mom keeps suggesting I take one.”

“Varra…”
FJ says again, his voice sounding way grave. Poor guy. I know he and Olafr must be super confused.

“Something like that,” I answer, deciding to focus on Iggle’s questions for now, since those are way easier to answer. “But longer. I’m talking months, not weeks.”

“Okay…” Iggle says, though her face is still scrunched up with confusion.

And FJ says,
“
Varra
, truly must we talk before you do this. Before you give your market to another.”

His voice is so urgent, I break off from Iggle and turn around, wondering why it’s so important for him to talk to me now.

And then I go completely still. They are both standing behind me now. And although they aren’t twins, they both wear the same look on their faces. One of despair.

For the umpteenth time during this long month, my heart clenches with dread.

“What?” I whisper out loud. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“
N
o
! No! No! Don’t leave me!” their mate cries. She strains against her brother, who holds her back so he and Olafr may go downstairs to complete the spell. “I thought I was yours! Yours always. We made a vow! No, please, don’t! No, don’t—”

His mate’s plaintive cries wake FJ from his sleep as sure as a bucket of cold water thrown upon his naked skin. And he sits up on the ship’s pallet, as if yanked forward by a great hand.

The sky he sits under is an angry gray with little sun poking through. It is the same color as their new swords. The perfect heaven for the morn before a great battle.

“You dreamt of her again.”
It is not a question, but a statement.

He sees his brother also sitting up on his pallet. His new steel sword lying without scabbard by his side. Over the months, they’ve trained from sun up until sun down with these swords bearing the name of Uthbert upon their surface. Olafr could no longer turn to his wolf and FJ desired to give him the best chance possible of surviving the coming battle.

But now it is not of his brother’s battle worthiness on which he thinks, but of the mate they left behind. Behind in the rooms where she gave them so much pleasure and where she pled for them not to say the separation spell. The other spell they’d been given by their aunt, perhaps, as FJ can plainly see now, not as a fail safe but in a moment of portent.

“We could not take her with us,”
Olafr says inside his head, his voice dull.
“The honored past Detroit fenrir did explain it true. It would be too dangerous for her here. Dangerous for her and for our babe. Her mother died in childbirth, and his mother, and our own grandmother the same. We would never forgive ourselves if she met the same fate in our land.”

“I know,”
FJ snaps, unable to keep the irritation from his inner voice.

And Olafr looks at him, his glowing eyes filled with woe.
“I know you have knowledge already of these things, Brother. These are but the words I tell myself. The words I must tell myself every night so I might sleep, and the words I tell myself every morn so I might wake and start the day anew.”

They watch the gray waves below as the boat carries them closer to the battle. Brothers truly bonded. Together here and in their misery.

When the sun is but a little higher in the sky, they see the shoreline of the village where all the North Wolves have gathered, called forth by their fenrir to battle the serpent enemy. The flags upon their tents whip and snap in the fierce wind. Their father has gathered over a hundred North Wolves as well as wolves from other tribes to join them in this great battle. It was not a difficult task. For in the few weeks since FJ and Olafr departed, a few important villages—including the Gotar gate village—have fallen to the serpent scourge.

As for those in their own village, some made it out alive but many did not. After much frantic searching, he and Olafr found the remaining villagers near starved and hidden deep in the mountain. They had been unable to hunt anything beyond small birds and rabbits for fear of the blood red serpent left behind to guard the village below.

Every day did the serpent take wing to search the mountain, often forcing the villagers to break camp quickly and relocate to another thick canopy of trees.

“I think they search for the time gate, but they do not sense it as we do and so it has remained hidden thus far,” Randulfrson, the son of their father’s beta said when they did arrive at yet another hastily constructed camp. “Four times have I watched from afar as the large serpent walked past it. You and your brother should count yourselves lucky you arrived at a time when he was not upon the mountain.”

Thus with great anger and purpose did FJ lead his remaining warriors, along with their wooden crates of Uthbert swords, down the mountain to confront the serpent guard.

Killing the red serpent had been one of the most satisfying moments of his life. And watching Randulfrson, along with the rest of their warriors, run their new swords through the serpent’s body was all the proof he needed that their efforts to bring custom-made swords back to his homeland was well worth it. He and the remainder of his much-reduced force gave triumphant cheer as the demon beast fell to the ground, shifting back into its human form.

Only a few days after taking back their village, they received word that their father was gathering a great army in the south. And so did they make the trip over land to the thawed waters and then sail by ship to meet with their father’s new force.

“Look there,”
his brother says to him now in the wake of FJ’s terrible dream.
“Father and Mother wait for us upon the shore!”

Seeing his parents for first time in many moons is the only true joy FJ has felt since his return. He peers at them through the grim haze of the gray dawn, one figure looming huge, the other dark and small. And though he cannot see his mother’s face, he can well imagine her expression. The same one she wore when their father returned from a long or perilous journey.

“Do you think she will know me in this form?”
Olafr asks beside him. FJ skims his eyes over his brother’s form, nearly as tall as FJ and very human. Not the same wolf he had been when their mother last set eyes upon him.

However FJ is confident:
“She is our mother, Olafr. She would know you anywhere and in any form.”

And indeed he is right. Their mother falls into Olafr’s arms, squeezing her youngest boy tight as she cries, “Olafr! Olafr! I can’t believe it!”

“Yes, is it me, Mama,” Olafr answers slowly in her tongue.

At his words does their mother begin sobbing. For so long, it occurs to FJ his mate might not have been the only one who believed his brother was bound to his wolf by
litthyggiandi
rather than choice.

And perhaps Olafr and his father realize it, too. Despite being watched by the many gathered on the shore, they let Chloe cry into Olafr’s chest for as long as she wishes. Seemingly uncaring if it makes them seem weak with emotion before battle.

Yet watching their mother cry once more brings to his mind the image of their mate. Tears, which she didn’t even shed when her pack did burn her with its mark, falling wildly from her eyes as she begged them to take her with them.

“I can’t!”
she’d screamed at them. “
I can’t do this life without you. I love you so much. Please!”

FJ almost wished he had managed to keep his heart hardened against her. For leaving her behind in that state was more difficult even than slaying his first dragon—as their mate did call their serpent enemy.

Perhaps reading his brother’s emotions, Olafr says over their mind link.
“Go now and show the other warriors the swords. I will tell our mother and father of Myrna.”

FJ begins to shake his head.
“I can—”

“You told our crying she-wolf of our leaving while I stood by, dumb with grief.”
Olafr’s face sets above his mother’s head, as if he, too, is reliving the memory as a nightmare.
“Let me bear this burden for us both, Brother.”

FJ nods. Not because he agrees with Olafr, but because he understands his brother’s feelings. And he understands the pain of delivering the news of their lost sister to their parents might be the only thing large enough to distract them from the pain of leaving their she-wolf.

His father has gathered many wolves, but the serpents have their warriors, too, and none know their real number since they’ve been attacking gated villages throughout the land, mayhap as one force but possibly as several. However, FJ refuses to think of a scenario in which he and Olafr do not keep their promise to return to their sobbing she-wolf.

“You will tell Mother and Father of Myrna,”
FJ agrees. “
Then will we rid our lands of the serpent scourge. And then we will return to our queen, never to leave her side again.”

Though it was made with ink not fire, FJ swears he can feel their she-wolf’s mark burning upon his shoulder as he says,
“Hers always.”

And he has no doubt Olafr’s mark blazes much the same as he repeats,
“Hers always.”
Voice just as earnest.

Thus does FJ go to re-arm their father’s army, knowing he and Olafr will either die in this coming battle or live to find their way back to their she-wolf.

There can be no inbetween.

“
W
e will come back
to you, Varra. Only death will keep us from returning.”

Only death…I spend a lot of time hating FJ and Olafr in the weeks after they leave. Hating my father and brother for not telling me the full extent of their agreement. And then holding me back as they walked out of my suite. Out of my life.

Apparently that had been part of the agreement. FJ would marry me. Give over his fortune. Then leave me here under the protection of my father, who’d in return sworn to never force me to marry Kyle or any other.

I still can’t believe they did this. Claimed me, only to leave me. Saying what Alisha referred to as “a separation spell.” A reversal incantation that, if uttered by either fated mate, would return both fated mates to their respective times. Back on New Years Day, a day that now seems so very long ago now, I would have invoked the spell myself if I’d known of it. No questions asked. Anything to get out of the weird triangle FJ was proposing.

But it hadn’t worked out that way. They’d claimed me. Not just my body, but my heart. Then they left. And now I hated them.

Hated them with a sickly longing that made me feel like I was also coming down from a drug addiction, and not just mourning the loss of my mates.

I’d heard about how bad the mate bond can hurt when severed. Mainly from Alisha who, despite being the one who ran away from her own fated mate, had missed Rafe every single day they were apart.

But I didn’t realize how bad it could get until the longing became a desperate and permanent ache inside of me. One that wouldn’t let me sleep until I reached under the covers and desperately fingered myself, thinking of their faces, their mouths, their hands on me until I climaxed.

However “my female’s joy,” as FJ referred to it, never brought much relief. I, the Detroit princess who’d always known better than to cry, now often fell asleep weeping into my pillows. The ones I refused to wash because they still smelled like my Viking wolves.

Funny, when FJ and Olafr first came into my life, I’d desperately wanted to get rid of them so I could get back to work. But now that they’re gone…work is the last thing I want to do.

Instead, three months pass with me parked in front of the TV, binge-watching
Vikings
over and over again, trying to remember every single thing Olafr and FJ had said about it. Even though my tattoo is long healed, it feels like a painful wound on the back of my shoulder. And for three months, I barely eat. Barely sleep. Barely do anything that doesn’t involve me crying and longing for the other two-thirds of my soul.

Then one day Alisha calls.

I was vaguely aware she’d gone to Norway during her spring break. Presumably because she’d been planning to all along, but more likely because Clyde put in a call because he was worried about the mental state of his twin sister who’d pretty much locked herself in her rooms.

My heart soars when I see Alisha’s name flash across my screen. And I answer the phone immediately.

“Alisha!” I gasp into the phone. This is literally the first call I’ve taken in three months.

“Hi, honey…” she says.

Hope flares in my chest. Alisha
never
calls me honey. She’s an academic and not touchy feely like that. Maybe that means…

“Please tell me you found something. Anything.”

“Ah, well…the Norwegian Pack has been very kind to me. They’ve given me full access to their historical archives and…” She’s back to sounding like a professor now. “So far I haven’t been able to find any mention of dragons beyond a tale of a great battle between the dragons and the wolves. And human archaeologists have been finding our Uthbert swords buried all over the place. This gives me cause to believe FJ and Olafr must have succeeded in ridding Scandinavia of the dragon shifters, and the warriors they gathered must have gone on with the swords to fight and live beyond that battle. It also means the swords blended in with their Damascus steel counterparts just as planned. Do you know they’ve even found a few cases of knock-off Uthberts?”

“That’s awesome!” I say, gripping my phone tighter. “They won!”

“Yes, but…” Alisha takes a deep breath, as if she needs more air to say the next few words. “I also found mention of FJ’s father and his dark beauty relocating to a cabin in the woods soon after their land was rid of dragons.”

“That’s good,” I say, grabbing on to that. “That’s exactly what FJ wanted. For his parents to retire and live out the rest of their lives in peace.”

“Yes, well, I wish the verse had stopped there,” Alisha answers. “But unfortunately there’s another line…about the sadness upon their hearts because all three of their children were lost, never to return.”

I start shaking my head, denial going up like a force field around my soul.

“That doesn’t mean they died.” I remember what FJ told me about the different dialects and how many of Ragnar’s exploits on
Vikings
were actually deeds accomplished by other human Viking kings and, in a few cases, werewolves.

“Couldn’t ‘lost’ mean a bunch of things? Like maybe they were lost because they came back here?” I ask Alisha, my heart nearly unhinged with desperation. “Or maybe since all of this is based on stories passed down through the generations, couldn’t this mean they got a few things wrong?”

There is a long, heavy pause. Then Alisha says, “Actually Tee, you should understand that taking a cabin in the woods wasn’t just something Viking kings did when they retired, like Granddad. Many did it as a sign of deep mourning, kind of like when someone takes a sabbatical at work because of the death of a loved one. Also, possibly because of Chloe’s influence, the Viking wolves started keeping very good records after the reign of her mate. Especially when it comes to the king line. So now we know for a fact that the Fenris Chloe married was the fourth of his line. However, according to the Norwegian pack records, he was also the
last
of his line. After the Dragon battle comes the age of Fenrit and Randulfrson, the son of Fenris’s beta, a valiant warrior who fought well in the battle against the dragons becomes the new king of the North Wolves. I actually knew the guy, he was a really good kid, at least when he was younger…”

Maybe getting that this side note isn’t bringing me any kind of solace, Alisha takes another deep breath and says, “I’m sorry, Tee. I hoped my coming here would provide us with some clue that FJ and Olafr made it. But nothing I’ve found leads me to believe they survived the final battle with the dragons. In fact, everything I’ve found points to them not having made it out alive.”

I try to keep the force field going. I keep shaking my head. I open my mouth to tell Alisha why none of what she’s saying means they’re gone. Why they can’t be gone.

But I can’t speak, because someone is already using my mouth and she’s screaming the word “No!” over and over again.

And on the other end of the phone, Alisha starts crying. “Tee, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”