5. Chapter 5
Gunnar
Although I’ve been to Arlo’s house several times already, I cannot say I was ever nervous like I am today. Arlo told his parents about our engagement, and they invited me over for lunch.
I’d caught glimpses of his family from my position in the woods.
Arlo’s father had always looked at me with a disgusted curl to his lip.
His mother had seemed worried. His grandmother had attempted to speak to me through the wards, but I’d had no interest in shifting to my human form to exchange words.
It will be interesting to formally meet them.
When we arrive in Arlo’s time, it’s through the Time Traveler Agency in a city called London.
It’s a while before we’re able to leave.
I have to get my photo taken and fill out a long form with far too many questions.
After some time, however, I’m given a thing called an Eye-D and approval to travel so long as I have Arlo with me when I do.
Even in London, the TTA is still wary of me.
“What a pain,” I grumble as we finally step out onto the rainy streets of the city.
Whenever I’d traveled here before, I’d always come through a portal in a lake a few miles from Arlo’s home.
So it’s quite a shock to see the streets are full of humans carrying shields over their heads to deflect the rain.
Countless smells assault my nose, some more pleasant than others.
I catch snatches of conversation before they’re drowned out by the honking of those metal things.
Cars, I believe Anders calls them. He always tells stories about his life in this time when he visits.
“Hello, earth to Gunnar! Can I see your ID?” Arlo asks. I show it to him, and he snorts. “Oh goddess. There’s this thing called smiling. Have you ever heard of it?”
“I don’t smile at annoying people.”
Arlo unlocks his car, motioning for me to get into the seat beside him. Once I’m seated, Arlo suddenly leans into my space. “Sorry, got to get you buckled up, stud.”
I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to pretend that I don’t want to lean down and sniff his golden hair. He smells as soothing and delectable as always.
Something clicks. There’s a strap across my chest. “What’s this for?”
“It’s a seat belt. If we get in an accident, it could save your life.”
I don’t like how tight it is. “I’ll be fine. I heal quickly.” I’m more concerned about Arlo. Witches don’t heal the way wolves do.
“Just keep it on,” Arlo says, huffing as he spins the wheel. This car thing is not unlike a ship in some ways. Though more confining than I’d like.
It takes a long time, but eventually the crowded streets of the city disappear, and we’re surrounded by countryside.
Arlo clears his throat beside me. “We should practice being close with each other.”
“In what way?”
Arlo keeps his eyes on the road when he reaches out to me. “We could hold hands?”
I stare at his hand, my heart beating a little faster. “Aye. Easy enough.” It should be, but there’s an odd fluttering in my belly, as if I’ve swallowed butterflies.
Arlo gasps when I grab his hand. “I said hold my hand, not break it.”
I huff. “My grip’s not even that tight.”
The last hand I ever held was Leif’s. It was rough and calloused from working the fields of his farm. Arlo’s is soft and warm, so very different from Leif’s.
“Relax,” Arlo says. “You’re tense.”
I blow out a breath. “I am not.”
Arlo slips his fingers between mine. His thumb rubs along my knuckles, circling. It’s a pleasant sensation. It feels right. Our hands fit together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. His touch fills a void in my heart that I thought would be empty forever.
I tug my hand away as all those pleasant feelings turn to ash.
“What’s wrong?” Arlo asks.
“Nothing.” I look out the window.
I vowed never to forget Leif. Replacing the memory of his touch with another’s should feel wrong, but it didn’t. And that is bloody terrifying.
Arlo drives us through the gates of his family home, and his family has gathered on the front lawn to welcome us. My stomach twists with apprehension. Surely they’ll see through our lies.
“I’ve already told them you’re a shifter,” Arlo says, unbuckling his seat belt. “They won’t faint from shock.”
Before Arlo can leave, I grab his wrist. “Hold a moment.” I rummage in my pocket. “Your parents’ll expect to see a ring, aye?” Arlo’s breath catches when I pull a ring from my pocket. The sunlight streaming in through the windows glints off the metal.
“O-oh. Yes, of course. Brilliant, stud!” Arlo takes the ring, running his finger over the intricate knotwork and runes. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“Made it myself,” I answer, shrugging in the hope he won’t think much of the color surely showing in my heated cheeks.
He doesn’t need to know how I agonized over the ring for hours, getting the fit just right.
Carving the runes of protection into the heated metal with such focus made my head hurt.
The memories of the ring’s creation still bring a lump to my throat, because the last man who wore this ring was Leif.
“It’s beautiful,” Arlo says softly, then clears his throat. “Creative, talented—you’re quite the keeper, aren’t you?” He laughs, though it sounds forced.
“Arlo!” one of the women calls from outside, waving. “Come and introduce us!”
Arlo slips on the ring and then leans into my space, making my stomach flip. His lips brush over my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers.
My whole body flushes with heat, and the spot where he kissed me tingles even after he’s pulled away, waving at his family as he steps out.
It’s been so long since I felt my breath catch, my heart skip, and had that exhilarating sensation in my stomach.
It’s like I’ve been frozen in ice all these years and have only now just begun to thaw.
Not because it’s Arlo. No doubt I’d feel the same if anyone kissed me. Aye. That’s it.
I struggle a bit with the damn belt and hit my head on the bloody roof on my way out.
“Gunnar, this is my mum, Natalie. My dad, William. My nan, Patricia.”
“Hail! It’s good to meet you,” I say, trying to give off an air of confidence as I lean in and sniff behind Natalie’s ear.
Her overly sweet fragrance hits my nose, and I have to fight back a sneeze.
She gasps and the blood rushes to my face.
“Apologies. We shifters usually greet each other by scenting.”
Natalie laughs, one hand on her chest. “Oh! That’s quite all right. I hope I smell good. I’m trying out a new fragrance.”
“Mum, shifters are very sensitive to fragrances,” Arlo says, a hint of frustration in his voice. “I told you that.”
“No worries,” I assure him, sniffling. Damn, the smell won’t leave my nose.
Patricia holds out a hand, which I shake. “Call me Patty, dear. It is nice to meet you,” she says, but her scent is clouded with unease, and she keeps eyeing my teeth.
“You as well.”
“Gunnar. Arlo’s told us quite a bit about you,” William says and shakes my hand hard. His eyes, the same dark shade as his son’s, bore into mine. My wolf stirs, reacting to the dominant display.
“Come on in,” Natalie says, motioning us inside. “Would you like tea or coffee, Gunnar?”
“Coffee,” I say. I’m not sure what tea is, but Jamie has brought coffee from his cafe to the past on several occasions. As I cross the threshold, magic ripples over my skin, filling me with unease. “What was that?” I whisper, nudging Arlo.
He sighs. “Oh, for the love of Freya… They warded the threshold. If the spell perceives you as a threat, you’ll be thrown out.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask.
Arlo worries his lower lip. “My family is overprotective of me.”
“No, really?” I try to get my frustration under control. “What must I do to earn their trust?”
“They’ll ask you to make hospitality with them. It’s an old custom but many covens still use it as a show of good faith.”
“Come sit, lads!” Patricia calls out. She and William are in the sitting room. The sofa and armchairs are covered with floral fabric. Large windows offer ample sunlight and a view of the yard. There’s a shrine to Freya just outside.
Arlo takes a seat on the sofa, and I follow his lead, pressing right up against his side.
I need him close, and it’s not just so I can feel his warmth against me.
My wolf is unsettled, and his instincts are demanding I stay close to Arlo and keep him safe, even though I know his family would never harm him.
Arlo gives me a curious look but doesn’t move away.
His hand settles on my thigh, his touch warm and reassuring.
Patricia smooths out the wrinkles in her dress. William keeps staring at me, eyeing the spot where Arlo is touching me.
“Well,” Patricia says, “Arlo’s told us you’re from the past, Gunnar. From what time?”
“Aye.” What else can I say? I don’t bloody know what year it is, or what name my part of the world goes by now.
“He’s from the Viking Age, Nan,” Arlo says cheerily. “Somewhere in the eight hundreds, I believe.”
Patricia’s eyes widen. “Really! Are you a Viking, then?”
It takes me a moment to understand what she means. The word is familiar, of course, but the way she’s using it is all wrong. “If you’re asking whether I go vikingr, the answer is yes. I’ve raided many parts of the world, from the shores of Northumbria to the deserts of the Muslim world.”
“How fascinating!”
William says, “Don’t you lot keep slaves?”
“Dad,” Arlo hisses, his hand tightening in the fabric of my trousers.
“Aye, we did,” I answer. “We no longer keep thralls.”
“But you’ve killed people?”
“Dad, let’s talk about something else.”
I shrug. “Of course. Those too weak to defend themselves have no place in this world. It’s the way of life.”
William hums thoughtfully. “You know, Arlo, one of the earliest Viking raids was on English soil, at the monastery of Lindisfarne. They slaughtered unarmed monks in cold blood. Isn’t that right, Gunnar?” He poses it as a genuine question, but his intentions reek of hostility.
“I’d heard tell of such,” I say. It was a little before my birth, however.
Arlo’s smile is bitingly cold. “Yes, and that was over a thousand years ago, so I don’t see how it has any relevance to lunch. Speaking of which, maybe we should go and help Mum, Gunnar?”
“Here we are!” Natalie says cheerily, bustling over with a tray laden with teacups and a steaming kettle. “Bill, would you get the sandwiches?”
William smiles. “Certainly, love.”
Natalie hands out teacups, then hands me my coffee. “Milk, sugar, cream?”
“Cream,” I say. She lifts a tiny saucer and pours a dollop of cream into my coffee. Once the teacups have been handed out and the sandwiches served, I distract myself by sipping my coffee. William brings another tray stacked high with little biscuits.
“Try a scone, Gunnar,” Arlo says. “Nan makes the best scones. They’re delicious with clotted cream and jam.” He hands me one, and I waste no time stuffing it into my mouth. The sweetness explodes on my tongue.
“These are delicious,” I declare through a mouthful. A crumb flies out of my mouth and smacks Patricia’s cheek.
William mutters, “Clearly, they don’t teach table manners in the eight hundreds…”
I fight back a growl. I don’t understand why William has it out for me, but I’d love to shut him up.
Arlo snatches up a scone and crams it into his mouth. “What’s table manners among family?” he asks, cheeks bulging with chewed-up scone. “These are delightful! I can understand why he could hardly wait to finish chewing, Nan.”
Patricia’s face flushes with pride. “I can hardly take all the credit. It’s my late husband’s recipe. I’m sure Frank would be honored.”
“So, tell us how you met,” Natalie says.
My scone goes down wrong, making me cough. “My brother Anders had lost his mind and—”
Arlo steps on my toes. “I was tasked with ensuring Anders got the proper documents after he arrived in the present. I went to their home to speak to him and ran right into this guy.” He elbows me with an overly cheery laugh.
“The minute I saw him, it was like a neutron star collision. I knew at once who he was to me.”
“Aww,” Natalie says. “How sweet.”
“I must say, we were very surprised to hear about your engagement!” Patricia says.
Arlo forces a laugh, squeezing my thigh hard. His palm is clammy. “I was worried you wouldn’t approve of me dating a werewolf, so we held off.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause that confirms they aren’t at all thrilled with Arlo’s choice in partner.
William breaks the silence. “Still, it’s unusual for you to keep secrets from your own family, Arlo. How do we know—”
Natalie clears her throat and says, “You must tell us your engagement story.”
My heart lurches into my throat.
Time to see if we can convince his whole family we’re madly in love…