11. Chapter 11
Gunnar
As far as I can tell, Arlo’s mother and his nan seem excited about the date I chose. Although I think a month is plenty of time to prepare, Arlo wants to get right to planning. And so he drives us into the city to get fitted for suits at some fancy store.
The loud music grates on my ears, and I can barely squeeze into the suit.
“How’s it going in there?” Arlo calls.
“Too tight, again!” I snap.
I’ve always thought being tall was a blessing until now. The suit is too tight across the chest. I undress quickly and step into my pants, jeans, Arlo called them, and storm out.
Arlo sips fruity-scented alcohol, one long, slender leg draped delicately across his knee. “They’re bringing another one. You’ll likely have to get something custom made to fit all those delicious muscles.”
A flush heats my cheeks. “I have clothing that fits me well enough in my timeline. Why can I not wear that?”
Arlo swishes the alcohol around in his mouth before swallowing. “What is it? Leather and furs? Hardly fitting for a wedding.”
“I wore them to my last wedding just fine.” Although I was smaller then. Happier, too. Gods, everything was different back then.
Arlo sets down his glass. “Try one more. Look, this one is quite nice.”
Our tailor returns carrying a new suit. “This one should fit the gentleman better,” he says, “but do let me know if I can make any adjustments.”
I yank the suit out of his arms and glare at Arlo. “One more.”
Behind the curtain, I change into the new suit.
The fit is looser, and I feel less like an overstuffed roast of boar.
I grab the last piece of clothing, a single long strip of fabric.
What in Odin’s name for? A belt? No, it won’t fit around my waist. Oh, perhaps a headband then.
I tie it around my forehead, pleased when it keeps my hair out of my face.
“How does it—oh goddess!” Arlo covers his mouth with his hand. “What is that on your head?”
“A headband.”
His shoulders shake. “Oh, darling, you’re too cute.”
A flush crawls up my neck, and I fold my arms. “I’m anything but cute.”
“I beg to differ. You’re adorable!” He springs to his feet, a big grin lighting up his face. “That’s a tie.”
I don’t see what the problem is. “Aye, and I tied it around my forehead.”
He’s still smiling when he unwraps it from my head. “See, look at how I did mine.”
Ah, now I see what I did wrong.
“Here, let me.” Arlo steps into my space.
The salty tang of the sea surrounds me, and it’s as if I’m in my ship, leaving all my frustration behind.
Arlo looks up at me from beneath his lashes, curling his plush lips into a smile that heats my blood.
Fingertips caress the nape of my neck when he drapes the tie over my shoulders, drawing it tight.
We’re so close. Can he hear my heart pounding like a drum of war?
The top of his golden hair brushes my chin, smelling so strongly of the sea I love so much.
I close my eyes and drink in his scent. Leif always smelled good, but nothing compares to Arlo’s scent.
A scent that speaks to me alone, reminding me of my brothers’ laughter as we clink mugs of mead together on the deck, the cry of gulls, cool sea spray damp on my cheeks.
“Are you smelling my hair?”
I snap my head back. “No. Not at all.”
Arlo chuckles. “I hope I smell good.”
“You do,” I say, then look away when he glances up at me.
“For a witch. Usually, you lot stink of magic.” When I first met Arlo, he hadn’t had any scent at all.
He’d used a spell to mask it. It was only after he’d exhausted his magic and collapsed into my arms that I smelled him for the first time.
“Why did you hide your scent when we met?”
Arlo loses his grip on the tie. “It wasn’t personal. I’ve always hidden my scent from wolves.”
“But why?”
“It seemed like the safest thing to do.” The tie tightens slightly around my throat. Arlo gives my chest a pat, smoothing out the material.
“After your ulfhednar friend?”
Arlo’s silence is all the answer I need.
Fury heats my blood. Whoever that bastard is, he hurt Arlo terribly.
“I wanted to avoid shifters at all cost. Hiding my scent seemed the best way to do that.” Arlo doesn’t look at me, voice devoid of emotion as he fiddles with my tie.
The scent of the ocean disappears. My heart drops into my stomach. Arlo’s closed himself off from me. With his blank expression and lack of scent, I’ve got no way of knowing how he truly feels. I can guess, though.
He tenses when I take hold of his wrist. The pulse thumping there beats faster when I drag my thumb over his warm skin. I’m at a loss for words to explain myself. I just needed to touch him.
“I shut others out, too,” I admit, my voice quieter than I intend. “After I lost—well, after.”
Arlo rests his forehead against my chest, his sigh warming my skin through my shirt.
“My brothers. My aunt. Sometimes through the bonds. Other times, I’d put distance between us and disappear for days.
It hurt them but they understood why I needed my space.
There were times, though, when I wished they’d come after me and ask me what was wrong, how they could help.
Thinking on it, I’m not sure I would have opened up to them even if they had.
They couldn’t have helped me. I was beyond help.
Mayhap I still am.” My throat feels dry.
I clear it. It’s been a long while since I felt like talking this much to anyone.
“You’re not,” Arlo says, tugging on my tie so our eyes meet. “Because I’m going to help you.”
Our breaths mingle, the space between us so thin I can catch fruity notes of champagne on his breath. Would his lips taste sweet? When I lean in, our noses brush. “I know, Lo. And you should know that I’m here if you need me. So don’t shut me out.”
Fingers curl in my jacket, pulling me closer until our lips are a breath away. The scent of the sea stings my nose, and a smile lifts my cheeks.
“You this sweet to everyone, or should I feel special?” Arlo brushes his nose against mine.
A chuckle escapes me, and it sounds rusty. I’ve forgotten how good it feels to smile and laugh with someone.
“Don’t let it go to your head, witch.” I close my eyes when he does, already imagining the taste of his mouth against mine.
The door opens. “How are the suits fitting? Oh! Excuse me.”
“No, no, it’s fine!” Arlo titters a laugh as he stumbles away from me. “Does the suit fit as good as it looks, darling?”
A sigh expands my chest, forcing a smile at the tailor. “Aye. Much better.”
“So does mine. I think these are the ones!” Arlo declares, following the tailor from the changing room.
I let my hand drop to my side, fingers curling into the space where his hand should have been.
Later that afternoon, renovations begin on the barn where I’ll wed Arlo.
When I arrive to help, Arlo’s family has already gathered at the far end of the grounds.
“Hello, dear!” Nan strides up to me, carrying a tray with drinks, steam rising from the mugs. “Hot cocoa?”
Not sure what that is, but it smells sweet. “Want me to carry that?”
“I’m all right, dear.” She carries the mugs to an outdoor table, frosty grass crunching under her feet.
Up in the hayloft, Arlo waves at me through the window. I lift a hand and offer a smile. “How goes the work?” I call.
“It’s… working! We’d finish faster if you and your muscles got up here.”
The hot chocolate goes up my nose, making me sputter. Gods, this man will be the death of me. Quickly draining my drink, I set it on the table and make for the barn. Inside, Arlo’s parents bustle about, levitating clutter out into the yard.
“Nat, you’re not getting rid of my pool table!” Bill says as said table flies right over my head.
Natalie throws up her hands. “When in Freya’s name are you ever going to use that table?”
“I’ll invite some of my mates over.”
“Bill, you haven’t played since Arlo’s first birthday!”
“Well, I might!”
I clear my throat, and Bill’s exasperation hardens into a scowl he aims at me. Natalie, however, conjures up a smile. “Hello! Come to help?”
“If I can be of use.”
Bill grabs a broom and starts sweeping.
Natalie sets her hands on her hips, looking around the barn with the huff of someone who has been working too long. “I know! Why don’t you help carry more of Bill’s junk out?” She motions to a stack of boxes covered in cobwebs and dust.
“Just be careful with it,” Bill says. “That ‘junk’ is limited edition books I’m going to sell.”
“You’ve been saying that for twenty years,” Natalie says, lips quirking into a smile.
“Yes, and it’s gone up five times in value since then!”
With a laugh, Natalie goes outside to join Patricia for hot chocolate.
Silence descends between Bill and me. He focuses on sweeping while I approach the boxes.
I’m in no hurry to talk to him. It seems he gets along with everyone except me.
I heft one of the boxes into my arms, grimacing at the weight.
I can feel him watching me as I carry it outside.
Before I set it down, I toy with the idea of pretending to drop it just to piss him off. I don’t, but it was tempting.
Back in the barn, I brush spiderwebs off the next box.
“You don’t happen to have any old books or scrolls in your time, do you?”
I almost drop the box on my toe. “Anders’s mate has been teaching us how to read. Our stories are passed from parent to child over generations, not through ink and paper.”
He hums, though I can’t tell if it’s approval or not. “A shame. I imagine modern scholars would benefit greatly from texts from your time.”
A part of me wants to turn away and go on working. The man’s been a bastard since we met. The hair on my neck prickles, and I look up at the hayloft in time to catch Arlo quickly looking away.
I have no doubt Arlo wishes the pair of us could get along better. It would certainly help smooth tensions.
“If there’s ever anything you’re curious about, just ask,” I say. “I’m not the best with words, but I’ll try.”
When Bill doesn’t respond, embarrassment heats my neck. He could have at least tried. I hoist the next box into my arms.
“That one’s quite heavy. Let me help.” Stretching out his hands, Bill levitates the box and guides it out the barn doors.
Surprised doesn’t quite cover what I’m feeling. “My thanks.”
Bill nods, scratching his neck. “Not at all. And… I’ll think about your offer.”
It takes effort for my eyebrows not to touch the ceiling. I dip my head. “Let me know. I’m happy to—”
A loud, groaning creak silences me. Bill and I look up toward the roof. The wood is dark with rot, and water drips through the boards.
Bill whirls toward the hayloft. “Arlo! Get down, now.”
Arlo drops the rake. “What? It’s just a bit of a leak.”
The ceiling comes crashing in, raining snow, ice, and chunks of wood toward our heads. I reach for Bill to shove him out of the way, one hand up to shield my head.
Shit. This will hurt!
I close my eyes tight, bracing for the crack of wood against my body. Only the impact never comes. I crack open my eyes, relief flooding me when I realize the enormous pile of wood and snow is suspended inches from us.
“I’ve got it!” Arlo’s voice is strained, one hand outstretched to keep the rubble afloat.
“Go!” I shove Bill and dart out of the way.
The rubble comes crashing down with a force that shakes the barn to its foundations.
“The whole roof is coming down!” Arlo cries, jumping down from the loft.
I grab his hand and haul him close, racing for the door.
Bill yelps in pain. Behind Arlo, Bill lies on the floor, cradling his head in his hands. The metallic tang of blood hits my nose.
“Dad!” Arlo tugs, fighting to escape my hold. “Gunnar, he fell! Let me go!”
For a selfish moment, I hold him tighter. I can’t let him get hurt. I must keep him safe.
“Bill!” Natalie cries, terror making her voice shake. She runs toward us but freezes when debris falls down in front of her.
“Stay back!” I can’t restrain Arlo and her. “I will get him!” I push Arlo back toward his mother and run for Bill’s crumpled form.
Slipping my hands under his arms, I hoist him across my shoulder. His weight makes every step far too slow as more debris falls from the ceiling, barely missing us.
Arlo throws up his hands just as an avalanche of rubble hurtles toward us, suspending it just before we’re buried. “Get him out!” Arlo snarls.
Every instinct screams to grab for Arlo and pull him out with us. As fast as I can, I march past him and toward the door. As I step outside, Natalie reaches out, helping to lower Bill from my shoulder.
As soon as Bill’s weight falls off my back, I’m turning back around, heart in my throat. “Arlo!”
The breath tears from my lungs, heart racing faster than it has in years. If I can just run faster, I can make it in time. He’ll be all right, he’ll—
Wide blue eyes, glassy with terror, collide with mine. “S-stay back, Gunnar!” Arlo’s voice is so strained, it’s barely recognizable. Then he collapses, knees buckling from the strain, and I think of Leif lying in a pool of his own blood.
The debris rains down, striking his skull, crushing him to the ground, and Leif is dying right in front of me all over again, and I’m too far away. I can’t get to him in time. I can’t.
No.
Not again.
Oh gods, don’t take my mate from me again.
“Lo!” I reach out my hand just as the rubble comes crashing down, piles of wood and chunks of snow burying Arlo from my sight.