29. Davyn
Twenty-Nine
Davyn
As far as I was concerned, Rodizio was one of the best inventions in history. It ranked up there with indoor plumbing and disaster movies.
Even better, All-You-Can-Eat-Meat with friends. The afternoon with Tyr lingered in the back of my mind as I watched Azzie joke with Zeke and Enid, and exchange barbs with Finn. Seeing the god, his life reflecting so much of mine, left me with a lingering sense of disquiet.
I’d fought a connection to anyone for so long, but it was impossible to ignore that this odd group of people meant more to me than anyone had in a long time.
Azzie nudged me, and jerked her head toward the waiter, who stood next to me with a thick skewer holding several slices of honeyed pork, based on the smell. I leaned back enough for him to pile the new flavor on my plate.
I’d heard the man approach, but hadn’t registered any threat. He was holding a heavy fork and a sharpened blade—of course he was a threat.
He wasn’t though. Not when I was surrounded by this group.
Azzie picked up the steak knife from where it rested against her plate, and twirled it between her fingers before grasping it by the grip.
“Show off.” Enid’s tone was kind rather than bitter. “How do you make it look so easy?”
“It is.” Azzie tossed the knife ten or so centimeters in the air, caught it by the tip, and handed it to Enid, handle first.
Zeke grabbed the utensil, and set it back against Azzie’s plate. “Start her with something less sharp.”
Finn handed Enid a butter knife instead.
Zeke took that and set it aside too, before stealing my still-wrapped straw and handing that to Enid.
Seven months later, and I still didn’t see how he was a threat to Azzie. Aside from the fact that he had her distracted and tied up in trusting him. Trusting Finn.
Enid shrugged off the offer of the straw. “I don’t think that’s enough weight to do what Azzie did.”
I took my straw and set it by my plate. “We don’t teach knife throwing at the dinner table.” I frowned and clamped my jaw shut as the words passed my lips. Did I just say that?
Finn scoffed. “Careful, bear. They’ll revoke your Berserker card if they hear you talking like that.”
“Can they do that?” Enid looked instantly concerned. “Tell them it was my fault.”
“They can’t do that,” I assured her. “And I don’t know how to juggle blades either.” I wiggled my fingers. “Not built for it.”
Zeke raised his brows and looked me over. “No? You don’t have a prehensile penis or something?”
“Berserkers are built just like other people. Some are well hung and others aren’t, but they can’t grab things with their dicks.” Azzie took a bite of her dinner.
“Thank Creation,” Finn muttered.
Bright pink spread across Enid’s face. “I’m not going to ask how you know.”
I swore this group could turn any conversation to sex, and while I could brush it off some days, tonight it had me watching Azzie in ways I tried not to. The way she laughed and licked her lips and moved and was so easily herself.
She was also my student, and I wouldn’t let my adoration for her become a threat to her. Not again. “We should change the subject.” I kept my voice firm.
Finn snorted. “Are you sure Odin didn’t find you in a monastery?”
“Davyn is perfectly intact.” Enid jumped to my defense, and it took me a heartbeat to realize what she was implying.
Azzie nearly choked on her water. “I mean, she’s not wrong.”
“Not what I meant, ladies, but I prefer your interpretation.” Finn gave me a smug look.
This wasn’t what I meant by change the subject .
“Did I miss something?” Zeke looked from face to face.
Azzie snickered and Enid’s face was nearly red enough to match the tablecloth now.
I sighed. “Vikings used to capture educated monks and sell them to Asian kings as eunuchs, because a smart man with no balls, who could read, was valuable in a lot of ways to a king.”
Zeke grimaced. “I agree. Let’s change the subject.”
“We could open gifts.” I had a feeling if we didn’t start now, we’d be here all night thanks to the distractions we caused for ourselves. Not that I would complain—despite the awkward bumps in conversation—this evening was going wonderfully.
The wait staff might start to question the conversation though. The encounter with Starkad and Kirby lingered in my mind. Things could’ve gone much worse, and the more we drew attention to ourselves, the more likely it would be that when the next immortal found Azzie, worse was guaranteed.
“We should wait on that, too.” Enid was still blushing. Why?
The tiny smile on Azzie’s face turned curious and mischievous. “Can I open yours first, Enid?”
Enid twisted her mouth this way and that, finishing with a frown. She bobbed her head back and forth, her expression shifting again and again. It looked as if she was fighting an internal battle.
“Might as well get it out of the way,” Enid said softly. She reached into her purse and extracted two similar sized packages, wrapped in bright paper. They were both books, based on the shapes. She handed one to Zeke and one to Azzie. “Open yours first.”
Her tone made me think so we can move on from it quickly was unspoken at the end of it.
Azzie tore into the paper, but kept it all in a nice, small pile next to her plate. In a blink, her playful expression vanished into one that matched Enid’s, and she moved the book under the table quickly. “I love it, thank you.”
“Whoa.” Finn leaned forward, reaching under the table, and grabbed the book before Azzie could pull away. “You have to show everyone what you got.” He held up the book, and his amusement grew. “ The Berserker Who Loved Me. Scarlett Summers.” He read aloud as I scanned the title and author on the cover.
I raised my brows at the book title.
“It’s-at-the-top-of-the-charts-and-I-promise-the-one-in-the-book-is-nothing-like-Davyn.” Enid’s words ran together, and it took me a moment to process.
Nothing like me? What did she mean by that?
Zeke rolled his eyes. “I thought it wasn’t fun to read about if you lived it.”
Despite her flush, Azzie stood and reached across the table to snag the book away from Finn again. She flipped through a few pages, and paused, eyes glued to the words in front of her. “There are exceptions.”
“Besides, this one is more accurate than most.” Enid furrowed her brow. “I mean the world-building.”
“I thought you meant anatomically.” Finn was enjoying this too much. “Because a bear’s cock?—”
“The feeding hole is sacred.” I cut him off with the reminder, as much for my own sanity as his. My mind was wandering, wondering what kind of explicit details were in a book like that. Wondering what it would be like to show Azzie the reality?—
“As if you’ve never talked about dick at the dinner table,” Finn retorted.
Well, yes. Sex wasn’t a taboo topic. Except in this civilization, with this woman, things were different.
“Can we move to someone else’s present, so we can stop acting like I brought a porno mag to the table? Please?” Enid asked meekly.
There was a wave of murmurs, protests, and agreements.
This was fun. The more potent than usual reminder of how tempting Azzie was could be an issue, but I did enjoy the closeness. I didn’t enjoy the reminder about my former pack. The Berserkers I’d called family in the past. This was a familiarity I missed, resented the gods for taking from me, and didn’t dare embrace again.
Azzie gave Enid an awkward hug. “I love it. Best porno ever. Give Zeke his present, so I can appreciate mine without other people’s input.” She glared at Finn.
Enid’s gift for Zeke was a leather book cover for his sketchbook that was enchanted to preserve whatever was between the pages. There wasn’t the same kind of fanfare as with the book for Azzie, but Zeke was appreciative.
“Me next.” Finn pulled a single, small box from his pocket, just as our waiter stopped by the table.
“Ooh, is it someone’s birthday?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
“No, definitely not,” Zeke said at the same time Azzie answered with, “Ours.” She pointed at herself and him.
Zeke shot her a glare, and she shrugged. “What?” Azzie asked.
“You each get a free dessert with the song.” The waiter looked more excited than I felt he should.
That sounded good. Azzie loved free cake. “They’ll take it.” I spoke before anyone else could.
Zeke groaned and sank lower in his chair, as the waiter waved over a few more colleagues.
Intriguing.
Then the staff started to sing. It was an out-of-tune rendition of something with the words happy birthday repeated again and again, to a rhythm that none of them seemed to agree on, based on the pacing. Throughout the entire thing, Enid and Zeke had smiles frozen on their faces, but Azzie’s delight was genuine.
It was an odd sort of torture, and I hadn’t realized this modern society still tested their warriors’ strength to celebrate another trip around the sun, but thirty seconds later, it was over. The waiter promised to bring the desserts out at the end of the meal, and the staff disbursed.
“That was fun.” Azzie was still grinning.
Enid gave her a puzzled look. “It was?”
“You didn’t like it?” Confusion bled into Azzie’s question.
Zeke studied her for a moment. “It was novel the first time, I guess. When I was ten. Have you… never seen that before?”
“We didn’t do stuff like this on birthdays.” Some of Azzie’s enthusiasm faded.
“I’ve never seen it before either.” I wasn’t sure I appreciated the same things about it that she did. However it was a new experience, and, it seemed, not one that was intended to be torture.
“Aren’t you glad I made you do this, then?” Finn nudged her.
Azzie’s grin was back. “I really am.”
It seemed she and I had both missed out on a lot of life, though I had a past to draw on. She only had a few decades, and they’d been a kind of sheltered most people could never understand. She was pushing to become a powerful being, and had no idea how so much of the world worked. True, a lot of gods were that way, but she deserved better.
She shouldn’t have to wind up like Gudrun, removed from the world before she’d truly lived, because those around her assumed it was time for her to be more.
“This is for both of you.” Finn handed the small box he held to Zeke. Red, silky lace was tied around it, but it didn’t look like a bow.
Zeke furrowed his brow.
Azzie reached over and tugged on the fabric, and pulled free the barely-there G-string. “Really?” She gave Finn a withering look without any heat behind it.
He shrugged. “I found a ruined pair in the laundry, and thought you might want a replacement.”
Enid’s blush was back, as stark as the panties.
Azzie sighed, but one corner of her mouth tugged up.
I’d gotten better at ignoring how often she and Zeke were together, though it amused me in a sadistic sort of way that Finn hated it. The desire and jealousy that flared inside was smothered by my worry about how hurt she’d be when this all came crashing down.
Zeke pulled the lid off the box, and frowned.
“Well?” Finn’s question stuck me as odd.
Azzie leaned in. “What is it?”
Zeke held the box out so we could all see. “Cufflinks?” He pulled out one of the pieces. It had an onyx inlay, with a tiny pearl dot in the center, and was shaped like a stylized fish.
Azzie grabbed the other half of the yin-yang symbol. Odd that Finn had gone with someone else’s symbolism for his gift. Gods, even those not actively seeking worship, didn’t do that.
“Definitely cufflinks.” Azzie twisted the small metal bar that was attached to the stem by a pin.
Though Loki was a fan, I’d never had much need for such a thing. As far as I was concerned, a breastplate was a far better accessory. What were Zeke and Azzie supposed to do with a single pair of cufflinks?
Finn worked his jaw, but no sound came out. This kind of silence was unusual for him, especially since it was his gift. He finally gave a light cough, as if clearing his throat. “Sure, they were once upon a time, but what they do is more important. They’re protection. For the wearer if donned in a pair, or for the pair if split apart.”
“I’ve never in my life worn something that required cufflinks.” Zeke continued to turn the onyx jewelry over in his hand. “I don’t even own any shirts with the right kind of cuffs.”
Azzie tilted hers toward the light. “I wore the right kind of shirt once.”
“You did?” That didn’t sound right.
She held the accessory up between her thumb and forefinger and let it fall into the palm of my hand. “I met a guy during a job, and he was in a tux. I borrowed his shirt for a little while the next morning?—”
“Okay, we understand.” I cut her off. I didn’t have any issues with who she’d been with in her past, but the mental images of her in crisp white shirt and nothing else, buttons most likely undone, bottom hanging just past her ass…
It all summoned my bear carried on a fuckton of desire, and I couldn’t fall into that. She was mine to teach and, but not to take.
Enid grabbed the cufflink Azzie had claimed. “You could hook them into your shoes.” She slid from her seat to kneel next to Azzie, and hooked the piece through one of the eyelet’s in Azzie’s boots. “See?”
“Brilliant.” Both the way we’d changed the conversation, and the idea of extra protection for Azzie. I offered Enid a hand, and she ignored it as she climbed to her feet and returned to her chair.
“I love it, thank you, Finn.” Zeke hooked his in place as well.
“I don’t get a kiss?” Finn asked.
What the fuck was he talking about?
Zeke gave him a puzzled look that asked the same question.
“Thank you, Mister Finn.” Azzie tucked her foot away, but not before giving the pearl adornment another glance.
I handed out my gifts, too. A fountain pen and ink for Zeke. The pen was built from a raven feather that held a whisper of a spell, to keep his hand steady. Basic stuff.
When Azzie lifted the necklace from its box, she paused. “It’s beautiful. Is it…? It tingles.”
Did she feel Tyr’s protection? “The necklace is from me, and the blessing is from Tyr.”
“Thank you.” Her gratitude was soft, and she traced a thumb along the leather, over the moonstones, and to the silver clasps. “It’s beautiful,” she repeated.
I took it from her, and she brushed her hair over her shoulder as I draped the woven leather along the back of her neck. The adornments lay flat against her collar bone, and I clasped a small silver chain at the base of her throat. I brushed another thumb along the gemstones and her skin, admiring the contrast against her pale skin. “Beautiful.”
“I spoke to the siren.” Enid sounded more shrill—louder—than usual, and her comment jarred me.
The words were all that was needed to grab Azzie’s attention. “And?”
“Why the fuck would you deal with a siren?” Finn talked over Enid. “Are you an idiot?”
Odd response. It was true, some sirens were like those in myths—luring anyone who got near to their deaths. Others had done like most of us, and adapted as times changed. It wasn’t unusual to find a siren running a roadside diner, a pub, or a hostel. They took in those who needed help, and would exact revenge on behalf of the battered and abused who crossed their paths.
For Finn to automatically discount the idea… “Have you done something that makes you fear a siren’s wrath, Jotun?”
“I’ve done a lot of things, as have you,” Finn said. “We don’t know who she is or what she stands for.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Azzie waved away the concern. “You always do your due diligence, Enid. Though…” Her expression flattened. “This isn’t something you learned from Lugh, is it?”
I didn’t like that Lugh had taken an interest in her. Regardless of Loki’s flaws and the danger he posed to Azzie, there were some things he couldn’t be blamed for. Actions that were the result of a blood oath he’d sworn to Lugh centuries ago, then seemingly broken. Lugh used the supposed betrayal to bind Loki with a magic that forced him to perform certain deeds, regardless of his desire to do so.
“He hasn’t steered me wrong yet. You can trust him,” Enid said.
While the consequences Loki faced were Lugh’s right, Lugh had taken advantage of the broken oath. He’d manipulated the contract. “ Trust is not a word I would associate with Lugh.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Says the creature who got his power from Odin.”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes.” I growled.
Zeke let out a clipped but loud whistle, catching me off-guard.
Why did no one at the neighboring tables react?
“The two of you don’t get enough of this in other places? You have to disrupt Azzie’s birthday?”
While Zeke was an acceptable human being overall, he possessed a number of small flaws that kept me from liking him… and of course one large one. My least favorite, aside from the fact that he’d won Azzie’s trust so completely, was his tendency to call me out for social missteps that hadn’t mattered in decades past, and wouldn’t matter in the future.
“I didn’t get the information from Lugh.” Enid spoke with a surprising calm, and my irritation faded. “I heard it in passing from a few other customers who aren’t associated with your prophecies, and I did my due diligence as I always do. It seems she makes you face yourself, and she’s agreed to meet you.”
It had only been three years since the encounter with Ulf, but I suspected in a century, his deception and twisted means of feeling pain would remain distinct in my mind.
Azzie’s hand drifted to her steak knife. “Sounds like the Berserker we met in Elko.”
“Sirens deal in desires and fears. This is an emotional and intellectual encounter,” Enid said.
“Pretty sure I can traumatize myself without someone else’s help.” Despite the flippant words, Azzie traced an absentminded touch along the handle next to her.
“Dessert is served.” This waiter had either the best or the worst timing. “For the birthday couple.” He set plates in front of Azzie and Zeke first. “And for everyone else.” He delivered our sweets as well. “And this was dropped at the host’s station, for Ava?” He took a nearly meter long box from the other waiter with him.
My senses flared to life with concern. “Dropped off by whom?”
“The host didn’t get their name.” The waiter handed the box to Azzie. “I assume you’re Ava?”
The blood in my veins turned to ice. Ava was a name from Azzie’s mother’s visions, always attached to Loki.
She took the box. “That’s me.” Her expression matched the concern boiling inside me.
“Enjoy dessert.” The waiters both nodded and were on their way.
Azzie turned the box over in her hands.
“You can’t open it,” I said.
She tugged at the edges of what looked like a lid that would lift off. “He wouldn’t send something dangerous here.”
“Who’s Ava? Who calls you that?” Enid asked the question I expected to come from Zeke or Finn.
Why hadn’t either of them asked first?
“He would if it killed people,” I said to Azzie.
“No.” She shook her head and slowly lifted the top. “He’s having too much fun with the game.”
That was more true to Loki than she probably realized, but it didn’t stop me from bracing myself as she opened the package.
There was no big boom, no screams, and no monsters appearing out of nowhere, but the concern on her face didn’t assure me. She started to reach into the box, then stopped, and showed me the contents instead.
There was a hatchet nestled inside. It looked like it was made for combat, and the note on top said, love, Loki .
I didn’t think any of that was what bothered her though. She was more likely concerned, as was I, by the fact that the shaft, immediately beneath the hatchet head, was wrapped with the same style leather and moonstones as the necklace I’d given her. As if the two were a matching set.
What the fuck was he up to, and how did he know what I’d gotten her?