Chapter 16
Two sharp knocks landed on Linnea's bedroom door, jolting her awake in a tangle of blankets.
"Breakfast in ten, lilles?ster. Get your ass up," Tor called through the wood. "Von has texted me non-stop, and he's running out of patience."
Linnea rubbed her face and waited for her brain to catch up to where her body was. Her bed smelled of Fenris, and she turned her face into the linen before she could stop herself.
Sadly, there was no Fenris still in it. The sheets were cold, and there was nothing but a dent in a pillow that wasn't hers.
Wait… Had she dreamed the whole thing? Maybe she imagined his hand under the waistband of her pants, mouth on her throat, and deep voice whispering delicious things in her ear.
Don't be stupid, her wolf said with a snort. Your sex dreams are never that creative.
She shifted under the covers, and the tender ache between her thighs settled the question.
"So that happened," she whispered to the ceiling.
Linnea sat up and made herself look at the consequences of her life choices reflected in the dresser mirror across the room. Her chin and neck were red from beard rash, and a bite mark was on her shoulder. She covered her face with both hands and made a mortified sound into her palms.
Tor and Ciara were wolves and would smell him on her. That didn't matter anyway because Ciara could smell a guilty conscience at fifty paces, let alone one that had made out with the literal Great Wolf and gotten off on his hand.
Worth it, her wolf said. Don't forget you made him come in his pants without touching him.
Dear gods, stop. You aren't helping.
Not trying to help. Trying to gloat.
Linnea got up and dragged a thick gray sweater on over her T-shirt. She didn't bother doing anything with her hair. She opened her bedroom door and crept down the hall to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before she went to find breakfast.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and the warm cardamom of skillingsboller from the bakery across the road. Tor stood at the stove in joggers and a thermal Henley, sleeves shoved to the elbows, flipping bacon in a cast-iron pan. He didn't look up when she came in, which was suspicious in itself.
Fenris was sitting at the kitchen island on one of the high stools, a glass of juice and a steaming coffee in front of him.
He was wearing a new set of conjured black jeans and a soft charcoal sweater.
The dark wool made the silver scar at his throat catch like a thread of moonlight.
Linnea fought down the overwhelming urge to lick it.
His eyes lifted to hers, taking in her disheveled braid, her bare feet on the floorboards, and the high color that was making her look like a tomato.
Fenris grinned just a little and hid it behind his mug as he drank his coffee. Linnea forgot how feet worked for a second too long.
Mine, her wolf sang.
Hush, or I'll find a way to evict you from this body. I swear on Freya.
She made her body move toward the coffee machine and poured herself a cup. "Morning."
"You're just in time to eat," Tor said from the stove.
"Good. I'm starving," she replied, a little too cheerfully.
Fenris pulled the stool out beside him without a word, and she slid into it. His thigh radiated warmth against her, and she tried hard not to think about how good that same thigh had felt between hers the night before.
Ciara walked in from the hallway in one of Tor's T-shirts and a pair of leggings, her dark hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head. She looked at Linnea and Fenris, raising one eyebrow. Linnea willed her not to say anything, and the eyebrow lowered again.
"Smells good, baby," Ciara said, going up on tiptoes to kiss Tor's cheek.
"Even got you buns because of your unhealthy addiction," he replied and pointed at the white bag on the counter.
Ciara pounced on it, pulling a bun free and having a huge bite. "Wuv oo so muck," she said with her mouth full.
"Chew before you choke," Tor chuckled and started serving up scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on plates.
The front door opened down the hall, and Layla's voice carried in before the door had closed behind her. "I told you he wouldn't be wearing pants. You owe me a twenty."
"I'm wearing pants," Fenris said without taking his eyes off Linnea. "For now."
"Yeah, but he doesn't know that, and I'm short of cash. Food!" Layla said and threw her arms around Tor. "You're the bestest brother in the whole world."
"Hey, cousin." Arne walked in behind his mate with his black hair still wet from a shower. "Tor, are all of those Ciara's buns? Please tell me there are more."
Ciara held the bag protectively, her cheeks bulging.
"Better share, or I'll have to start telling embarrassing stories like about that guy you dated when you were fifteen…" Layla began, and Ciara thrust the bag toward her.
"Don't eat all of them," she grumbled.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Arne said as Layla passed a bun over.
Tor was watching his mate, his wolf in his eyes. "What about the guy you dated?"
Ciara only stuffed more of her bun into her mouth so she couldn't reply. Layla dropped onto the stool beside Linnea and swung an arm around her shoulders. "Morning, sis."
"Making trouble already, I see," Linnea commented.
"Just protecting my mate," Layla replied sweetly. She tickled the beard rash on Linnea's neck before glancing around her at Fenris. "Hey, big guy, you sleep okay?"
"Yes," Fenris replied and looked at Arne. "I want to try one of those buns."
"Hmm, you definitely look like a man who loves buns," Layla commented, and Linnea pinched her. "Because you're so big and must have an appetite to match."
Fenris nodded. "I do."
Tor put a full plate down in front of him before wrestling the bag off Arne and putting a bun on the side. "Dig in. You're going to need it. Von sounds high energy already."
"Imogen sent photos this morning," Layla told Linnea, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. "Kian hasn't moved since Elise put the baby on his chest. Apparently, he's refusing to be relieved of Daddy Duty."
"Show," Ciara demanded, crowding in on the other side of Layla.
The photo was of Kian slumped in a deep armchair beside a hearth, one of his big hands making a careful, splayed cradle across the back of a small baby lying against his chest. A tiny fist curled into the open neck of Kian's shirt, and a bright halo of red hair came out of the top of the blanket.
Both of their mouths were open in the same dead-asleep slack way.
"Oh my gods," Linnea breathed.
"He hasn't slept in something like thirty hours," Layla said fondly. "Oberon tried to take the baby once so Kian could go and have a nap, and Kian growled at him. So they've all decided to let it ride."
"Adorable," Ciara said with a grin. "Look at his little hand."
"Imogen says the rest of the fae are still partying. They have been celebrating in the courtyard for two days. Bridget and Charlotte threatened them with a silencing spell this morning so the baby could nap."
"Have they named him?" Linnea asked.
"Still no." Layla turned the screen back to herself, scrolled, and grinned. "Quinn has put a real campaign together for Vote for Trevor. She's printed signs."
"She has not," Tor said, handing out more full plates.
"She totally has. She emailed me a mock-up this morning."
Arne moved Ciara out of the way and sat down on Layla's other side with a plate piled high enough that she made a small mocking sound. "What? I'm a growing prince."
"You are like over four hundred years old," Layla said.
"And still growing. Besides, you wore me out last—"
"Gods, stop. I'm eating," Linnea complained, scooping eggs in her mouth. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her flannel pants. She fished it out one-handed below the lip of the counter, expecting Von, and instead got her chat with Layla and Ciara.
Layla : Nice stubble rash, you hussy. WHAT HAPPENED WITH FENRIS?
Linnea choked on her egg. She looked sideways, but Layla was eating a bun with one hand and thumbing her phone with the other.
"I wonder if Maria won the drinking contest," she said, the picture of guilty innocence.
Linnea looked across the counter. Ciara had her phone in her lap and a small wolfish smile. "Let me find out, sis."
Linnea typed back with both thumbs under the counter. I'll tell you later. Eat your breakfast so I can eat mine.
Ciara: Whatever it was, it must have been good because wolf noses are giving you away right now.
Linnea quickly ate some bacon because there was no stopping their nonsense, and she hated cold food.
Layla: I don't need a wolf nose to tell me where she got that glow from.
Linnea: Cut it out. I am TRYING to eat.
Ciara giggled into her mug.
"What's so funny over there?" Tor asked, looking up from his own plate.
"Nothing," all three of them said in identical bright voices.
Tor's gray eyes narrowed. He looked at his sisters and his mate, but luckily, he knew when he was outnumbered by women plotting at his own kitchen island. He ate his toast in two large bites and didn't ask again.
"Here, read those. I'm not dealing with him before nine," he muttered instead and pushed his phone across the counter so it slid to a stop in front of Linnea.
Linnea picked up the phone and read.
Von: Good morning, my favorite alpha. Tell me your sister is alive and the Great Wolf hasn't eaten her in the night. Better yet, tell me if he has. Lucky girl.
"Oh my gods," she whispered and scrolled up.
Von: Tor! It's been an hour, Tor. Why are you not answering me? Have you all died in your sleep? Should I send flowers and come and rummage through your belongings?
Von: TOR. I have been awake since six. I'm SOBER. Get your sister and that sexy wolf god to my house by ten, or there will be a reckoning!
Von: Bring Layla. Her Old Norse is half decent. Also, Arne, because I love him and he can carry heavy things while I watch. And I guess, he can also read Old Norse. Does he know Icelandic?
Von: Also, Ciara. Tell her to bring a blade or two in case anything in the collection attacks us. Sometimes the older runestones bite, but not in the way I like.
Von: I have ordered pastries and Linnea's favorite coffee from Bogstadveien. Do not be late. Pastries wait for no one. Neither does the end of the world. Just in case you have forgotten.
Von: Are you actually all dead? Should I start trying to commune with the spirits? I will, you know. I have been training.
Linnea was giggling by the third one, and by the end, she was almost crying.
"Has he slept at all?" she asked when she could breathe again.
"Doubt it," Tor said.
"Are we going at ten?"
"We'd better if we don't want him turning up here, ready to avenge our dead bodies."
"That is just another reason I like him," Fenris said.
"That's good because he's certainly eager to see you. He's probably going to smother you, just to warn you."
Fenris's knee brushed against hers under the counter. "I'm not worried. I have a power volv? to protect me."
"You're lucky I like you." Linnea didn't move her leg away, enjoying the touch far too much. She passed the phone back to Tor. "We'd better eat faster if we are going to make it in time."
Across the counter, Ciara was watching her over the rim of her mug with a fond expression that Linnea recognized as an Ironwood ready to meddle. Layla had the same look on her face, which just confirmed the worst.
Arne was already reaching for another bun, and Tor was on his phone, slowly typing back to Von with the kind of long-suffering expression he reserved for people he loved who were also a pain in his ass.
Linnea smiled, because even though they were going to continue to tease her mercilessly, there was no one else she would rather fight Ragnarok with. She thought about how excited Von was and drank more coffee. She sure as hell was going to need it.