Wregen #2
Finaan doesn’t move at first, hands fidgeting again while she watches me. But then she strides forward quickly, as if she decided to give in before she changed her mind. When she’s less than an arm’s length away, she pauses, lifting her head to look at me.
And I see her—truly see her, without the weight of the disdain she carries like a weapon—for the first time.
My skjaldmaer is so fucking beautiful. This close, I notice black flecks in her eyes nearly the same color as her hair, crinkles at the edges of her lashes that can only come from the laughter she managed to experience in the midst of Hel’s abyss, and a little bump on her nose that somehow didn’t heal following a wraith’s attack in Niflhel.
His skull is decorating my bedroom wall today, one of my favorite mementos.
My heart beats wildly as I catalog her features and wait.
I nearly retreat—emotions I can’t tolerate trying to push their way through my barriers.
Before I can, though, she dips her chin a bit and huffs out a sigh.
Closing her eyes, she takes one more step, rests her hands on my chest, and lifts to her toes to graze her lips against mine.
Wrath rises, grunting his pleasure as we feel our mate’s mouth.
Groaning, I open to her, satisfaction thrumming in my veins as she responds, stroking her tongue against mine.
Rumbles of ecstasy—there’s no other word for it—shoot out from every bit of flesh she touches, rocks barreling down a hill to bury us.
It’s the purest, most erotic sensation I’ve ever felt, a gift from the gods.
My stomach twists, yanking me from the thoughts and emotions and wants I should never have allowed.
This was a mistake.
I can’t let myself crave anything the other gods have to offer.
“That’s enough,” I bark as I pull away and shuffle back.
Her eyebrows draw together, a flicker of uncertainty wrinkling her forehead and the corners of her lips. But then she shakes her head, smoothing out her features. “More than enough,” she mutters, spinning to start walking back down the cavern.
While I smother the regret that tries to rise inside me. That won’t happen again. Hel alone reigns over my needs, and Hel gives only torment. Standing to my full height, forcing back the shoulders that sagged at Finaan’s response, I plaster my signature smirk on my face and stride after her.
We’ve gone two or three dragon’s-lengths when Finaan’s steps slow and she pauses, a smile erupting.
I watch as she talks to her dragon, my thoughts bouncing around different ways I can use this to get her back to Helheim.
She wants her beast badly enough to trust me—a decision she’ll regret, before she finally admits that I’m right and we belong in Hel’s realm.
When her eyes splay wide and she turns to stare at me, chin dropping as those lips form a perfect “O”, I realize I’ve misjudged something.
Her entire demeanor has changed, a wariness that rested between us a few moments ago giving way to triumph.
Did her dragon find a way to free herself?
It should be impossible. There’s only one dragon who might be able to escape this trap, and she was in the world that spawned me when Finaan’s beast was called from Vanatia with the others.
Finaan’s shock doesn’t last long. Within a few seconds, she turns to walk further into the caves. I grab her elbow and drag her to a stop. That’s not part of our deal.
“We need to find her,” she tells me, trying to wrest her arm away from my grip.
“Your dragon isn’t coming, Finaan,” I bark. “I know where she is. She’s still bound.”
“Not my dragon,” Finaan hisses. “Panta’s mate found an escape. Their name’s Ruxi and they’re coming to us. They’ll lead us to Panta, help us free her.”
“I don’t know who the fuck Ruxi is, but if Hel bound that beast, it’s bound. None can escape.”
She rips out of my hold, sneering as she crosses her arms across her chest and plants her feet. “Let’s see, then. Panta said they’re close. We’ll give Ruxi a few minutes to get here.”
I’m about to toss Finaan over my shoulder again—trapping her arms this time, because I learned my lesson—when Wrath bellows his warning inside me. He woke in a rage that has him ripping and tearing at my insides as if he intends to fight his way out.
And then I feel them. And I realize how very fucked I am. That little purple cunt is here instead of in Midgard, where they belong. They’ve decided to try again to forge a bond between us. But Wrath does not share.
I’m catapulted back to our first encounter and the shitstorm they ignited.
That’s what finally convinced me to track down Hel and offer myself to her.
My hold over Wrath had been slipping, as he pushed his way out more and more frequently.
My soft heart—that useless organ I’ve since burnt to ash—wept for every life my beast took.
It led me farther and farther away from the places people gathered.
But that fucking dragon found us. Wrath stirred in my gut, waking me from a blood-drenched sleep, as he sensed their approach. They came quietly, carefully, but Wrath didn’t care. I was his alone.
They fought for nearly an hour and I felt every bite and gouge and rip. The cottage I’d been hiding in collapsed to the ground under their weight as they threw each other around. My beasts filled all of its rooms, even the crevices and corners, with the crimson evidence of their hatred.
Finally, the dragon gave up. Maybe they planned to stay away.
It didn’t matter. Broken and beaten, I was done.
I found the nearest shore and spent days calling for Jormungandr to carry me to Hel.
When he came, I knew I’d been saved. Even if it was merely the beginning of a different kind of nightmare.
I never learned their name. Now I know it. Ruxi. Panta’s mate, if Finaan is to be believed. And they’ve come to fuck up my life even more, the little cunt.
“Turn around and run back to the water as fast as you can,” I growl, gasping for air as I try to shove Wrath back into his hole. Even Hel’s power may not be enough to control him and I won’t have Finaan dragged into the middle of what’s about to happen. “Don’t come back, no matter what you hear.”
Finaan looks at me like she’s seen one of Helheim’s wraiths.
I scream as Wrath starts to claw his way out, scales erupting across my skin as the purple dragon emerges in the cavern.
We’re a mongrel, both of us controlling some part of the body we share.
We have hands but scales cover a torso that’s grown impossibly long.
Our internal battle for control writhes inside of us.
Wrath is resolved, though. As the purple dragon steps forward, gaze fixed on us, I lose the battle.
My beast takes control of a body that hasn’t decided if it’s elf or monster. And he attacks.