Chapter Thirty-Six
Rey
I’m covered in ice and snow. The only warmth I feel is coming from Aric’s chest and the blood that’s actively running down my temple. Is it mine? But oddly, I feel no pain. Could it be his?
I lift my hand and wipe it away.
“Aric?” I scramble off him and look up. He’s in a weird daze. The collapse of the melted ice didn’t just take us out—it took out part of the floor of the cave. Thankfully, it looks like we only fell a few feet, so we should be able to get out.
Aric sits up and touches his right shoulder blade. When he brings his hand back around to look at it, I can see it’s covered with specks of red blood and spots of silver.
Does he see it? The silvery blood of a Giant? I’m Odin’s child, and I’ve bled many times before, but I don’t have that in my veins.
He quickly shoves his hand into the muddy ice water next to us and stands. Ah, so he’s seen the silver before, has probably learned to hide it before people ask questions. If he’s ever asked those same questions, I wonder what sort of answers Sigurd’s had for him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I’m surprised by how steady his voice sounds, like we didn’t almost just plummet to our deaths.
I nod and slowly get to my feet. “I’ve survived worse. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I’m not your father, Rey. I don’t just stand by and watch people die—even if they deserve it.” He shoves past me and heaves himself up like it’s nothing, then offers me his hand.
I see something shining out of the corner of my eye.
“Wait.” I kneel down on top of the pile of ice that fell through with us. “I see something.”
Aric lets out a groan. “Another rune?” It’s a simple rock slab with Dalgaz carved into it.
“A rune. Here?”
Aric shrugs. “This region is littered with old runes. Every time someone discovers one, they’ll bring it to the campus for identification. The Anthropology Department has a whole collection.”
“And what about the runes sprinkled all over campus?”
He smirks. “You noticed those, huh.”
“Kind of hard to miss.”
“Sigurd warded the whole university. He’s superstitious. Says they’re for protection.”
“Funny, who would he need protection from when he’s the villain?” I do laugh then. “Life is weird.”
He sets the runestone down by his feet, then heaves me up. I fall against his massive chest, but he shoves me away, then grabs for me as if remembering I just almost died. “Sorry, instinct.”
Yeah, I bet it is.
“No worries. I know you don’t like people touching you.”
“I’m only allergic to you. Everyone and everything else are fair game.” He starts walking. The gash on the back of his shoulder already looks better.
We walk in bitterly cold silence back to the car. We’re almost there when it starts to pour, hail and rain cascading from the skies as if nature’s angry we disturbed its peace.
Turnabout’s fair play, Mother Nature. You almost just killed me.
My teeth start to chatter as I get into Aric’s car. Between falling in the cave and the downpour, I probably have mascara streaming down my cheeks, stringy wet hair, and clothes plastered to my body in the most unflattering way.
Not that I want to look flattering to him.
At all.
Aric peels off his wet and bloody shirt, then grabs a duffel from the back seat.
“Here.” A towel gets tossed so hard my way, it smacks me in the head.
I grit my teeth. “Thanks.”
Do not look at his chest. Do not look at his abs.
But holy shit, since when did this guy get tattoos? I definitely didn’t see any in the spring yesterday. I can’t get a read on the one along his side. It seems like it’s faded or something. But the one on his back?
That one is most definitely a rune.
Raido.
What the hell?
He quickly drags a fresh black T-shirt over his head and stares me down. I feign ignorance, but my mind is racing. Surely, even though he’s sleeping, he knows how powerful runes are. Did Sigurd do it to him? It looked like two. My brain nearly explodes with possibilities.
Dressed again, Aric digs through his black duffel and pulls out two prescription bottles.
They’re the same ones from his room.
“What are those?” I ask, going for innocent.
“These”—Aric twists open a bottle of water—“are none of your business.” He tosses back one from each container, then puts the bag in the back seat. “We’ll wait out the storm here.”
“Because you want to extend our time together or because you’re too afraid to drive in the rain?” I ask. He’s not the only one who can do deadpan.
He leans over the steering wheel. “Three, two, one.” Immediately, the downpour increases, to the point that I can’t see anything through the windows. “I know my storms.”
Of course he knows storms.
Frost Giant.
“Neat trick,” I murmur. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”
“An hour, give or take. Storms like this don’t go that long, but people end up sliding off the roads up here.
They forget that just because it isn’t icy doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.
It’s nature, after all.” He suddenly leans his seat back, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. “I’m going to nap.”
“Did you just take sleeping pills?” I ask. How the hell long am I going to be stuck in here with him?
“Sleeping pills don’t help what I have. You’ll need to trust me on that one.”
“And what do you have?” I dig.
“Dreams,” he whispers. “Worse than you can even imagine.”