Wregen
Chapter thirteen
Ratatoskr
Ineed to get them to Helheim.
How the fuck are we still in the cave Jormungandr slung us to, a full day later?
My liege was right. When Ragnarok split the worlds open—triggering a war between gods and jotnar—it fucked with the fates’ weaves.
Nothing is as it should be. Or maybe those bitches are still scrabbling to fix the chaos they created when they sided with that prick Freyr and the other Vanir over my mistress’s dread father, Loki.
Their meddling interfered with the plans the chaos god had for the world that would emerge after that accursed day.
He’s been pissed off ever since. His drive for retribution is probably meddling in the fates’ new weaves.
I have no gods-damned idea. But I do know that it’s time to pull my shit together and get us back home.
I’m already risking my skin by bringing only two elves with me, instead of the hundreds Hel demands.
I think I can convince her that my plan will reap her many more subjects, but I have to deliver Finaan and Svend to her first. And then I have to convince her to let me have my skjaldmaer as my reward.
The second part was supposed to be the hardest. Hel will smell the bond between us.
She won’t want to allow me any companionship, much less the female the fates chose for me.
I’m still not sure if I’ll be able to convince her, but I don’t have any other choice.
Even if I tried to run, my liege would find me.
And I can’t bear Helheim without Finaan’s presence.
The loneliness that plagued me during my early days with Wrath pales in comparison to the desolation I felt existing in that dark world without my mate.
Taking them to Helheim should have been easy. Yet, here we sit, smoking a gods-damned fish, twenty-four hours after arriving in these caves. And what fucked up hours they’ve been.
That beast is back. Even their color pisses me off, summoning memories of the turnips I grew to loathe as a child. Their odious flavor often was the only taste in my mouth for days, as Midgard grew barren, and the animals that walked its surface abandoned the corner I called home.
Worse, though, is the constant scratching at my insides since they appeared.
That and the wails, howls, and snarls that erupt every few seconds, churning my gut as I fight to keep him contained.
My beast hates many things, but that gentle emotion pales in comparison to Wrath’s malice toward the dragon who wants to claim us.
I thought they’d learned their lesson after their first encounter, and we’d never see them again.
How was I to know my magic pulled them from Midgard when it captured the Vanatian dragons, trapping Ruxi with the others all this time?
Now, we’re stuck with them. They’re mated to Finaan’s beast, and my mate is a stubborn female.
She’s resolved to protect the dragon and coerce my bond with the beast.
But I’m more stubborn. Even if I wanted it—and I do not—Wrath would destroy both of us before he’d accept the beast. He came before Ruxi, and he’ll be my other half long after they’re gone. He’s the only beast I will ever bind my life to.
“Master,” the weasel croaks, a warble in his tone. I spin and glare at him, all of my rage focusing on the outlet he offers. He knows it too. His gaze is locked on the floor below us and every inch of his skin trembles. “Finaan bid me to tell you that a meal awaits you. If you would eat.”
“You know better than to disturb me,” I murmur in his ear. “Do you crave punishment?”
A vigorous tremble rolls through his body as he shakes his head from side to side. But then he gives his chin a sharp dip. “I’m here to serve you,” he whispers, though I’m certain that’s the last thing he wanted to say.
I’ve trained him well.
And for some reason I’ll probably never fathom, the weasel’s piety gives Wrath the solace he needs.
My beast wants the dragon’s blood or nothing.
Maybe the feel of Finaan’s cunt as she clenched around my fingers, and then coming with her taste on my tongue, quenched his need.
This elf’s devotion, his willingness to offer himself to use as we wish, soothes the furor that erupted when the turnip creature—the only name I’ll use for the detestable beast—appeared.
He drops into his hole, quiet and still.
I suck in a deep breath. Finally, some gods-damned peace. “I will eat,” I tell Svend, striding past him toward my mate.
She feeds me—bringing the fish she cooked as soon as I sit down—and Wrath actually purrs.
His low hum rumbles in my chest as he settles more deeply into his space.
For a moment, I’m back in my home before Wrath took control, when the beasts we were able to kill and eat satisfied him.
I breathe easier than I have in centuries.
But then I remember that those days are behind me. I’m Hel’s now. And the weakness that comes with a sated Wrath has no place in her realm.
“We’ll travel far today,” I tell them. “I’m displeased that we linger here, a day after our arrival. We’ll make up that time along the way.”
“Because something pressing awaits us in Helheim,” my skjaldmaer gripes with a roll of her eyes.
I pause, savoring her insolence. Holy Hel, do I adore her fire.
But I need her compliant until she’s again trapped in that world.
So I set my meal down, rise and close the distance between us, staring at the eyes that are sparking at me.
And then I wrap my hands around her throat and push her to her knees.
“Our home awaits us,” I remind her, “where you’ll soon learn to love kneeling at my feet as you worship me.”
Finaan smirks, winks her left eye like the cheeky little slut she is, and punches me in the groin.
And fuck if I’m not hard again. I double over, a groan spilling from my lips as my cock responds to our mate’s attention.
A shiver skitters down my spine as I lift my head and smile.
“I should shove you to your knees more often.” My raspy voice can’t hide the need for my ferocious female that bursts inside me at her rough touch.
“That turned you on,” she declares with wide eyes and a sharp laugh.
Shoving my hands aside, she rises to her feet to tower over me.
“You are one sick bastard. You deserve much, much worse than anything I’ll give you, because I’m not nearly as cruel as you.
But if you think any of it will involve me on my knees for you, Hel has twisted your mind more than I imagined. ”
The haughty turnip dragon barks out their agreement, and my hatred for them spikes. “You’ve got a reprieve for now,” I tell the beast as I glare at it, straighten my back, and stand beside Finaan. “Wrath will kill you before we reach Helheim. Unless I kill you first.”
They grumble, trying to shove their response into my thoughts, but I push right back.
“Stay out of my head,” I mutter, shaking myself as I will the blood to flow away from my cock.
I’m usually eager to give in to its needs, but we’ve been in this cavern too fucking long.
“Wrap the fish and store it on the beast. May as well get some use out of the little cunt. We leave as soon as you’re done. ”
Finaan grumbles her compliance but does as I ask.
Within a few minutes, we’re finally starting the trek to Helheim.
I pull up Wrath, letting him guide us rather than carrying a torch that would highlight our presence to the creatures that hide around corners, and in crevices and cracks.
He knows our path and will alert me to any threats.
The first few hours are quiet, everyone keeping to themselves, thank fuck. But then Svend gets bored. And a bored Svend is an annoying Svend.
“How many days will it take us to get to Helheim?” he starts, innocently enough.
I shut that shit down, though, barking, “None of your fucking business,” as soon as the “heim” leaves his lips. I will not be drawn into meaningless chatter with the weasel.
Wrath grumbles, his low warning shivering through my chest. For a moment, I think he’s risen to join me in chastising Svend. But then he growls, this time in warning.
I click my tongue, reaching back to lift my palm in Finaan’s direction and stop her before she gets close. We stand in silence as Wrath and I stretch out our senses in search of whatever caught his attention.
We don’t have to look far.
After a few seconds a squirrel, of all things, scampers into our path, pausing a man’s-height away to stare up at us.
Why have we stopped for this vermin? I demand of Wrath. I try not to talk to him much, lest he start demanding things, as he did in my youth, but he alone knows why this creature drew us to a halt. He can’t harm us, I point out to my perplexing beast.
Ssssstrange isssss he, Wrath rasps at me. He carriessssss the magic of the godsssss.
He’s a squirrel. Kill him if you want for a snack later, and let’s continue.
“You don’t want to kill me,” the little fucker squeaks, his voice so low, I barely miss it. “You can’t trust them,” he adds as his gaze flicks back to the others. “I can help you.”
“You can help me?” I bark out a laugh. “I don’t need help from a rodent.”
“Shhh!” the creature spits out. “She comes.”
His head pops up, eyes staring behind me as I hear Finaan step closer.
“Is that … a squirrel?” she asks, her voice several octaves higher than normal. “It is,” she declares, observant skjaldmaer that she is. “How is there a squirrel down here?”
“Is it you that needs help?” the little varmint quizzes, now staring directly at Finaan. “You can’t trust him,” he adds, jutting his puny chin toward me. “I can help you.”
“Now you seek her trust?” I grunt, not able to hold back the smile that ticks up one side of my lips. “You would help her?”