Chapter Twelve
There were souls waiting. Wade could feel them the second the sun went down. He’d been out running with Adalyn, Rafe, and a few others when he felt the pull of those waiting to go to their final resting place. He’d have to reschedule the appointments of those waiting for their ink at his shop. Normally, he’d spend hours tattooing his customers before heading out for the remainder of the night to escort the souls who awaited him, but tonight, the call had been too strong. He couldn’t wait. They couldn’t wait. There were simply too many.
It was a job he hated. Loathed, even. But it was the job he was bound to perform until Odin, himself, released him from his duty. Wade wasn’t like the wolves at Black Paw or any other pack for that matter. Other wolves were born to parents who had been blessed with the gift of the wolf spirit, Wade had been created by Odin for one purpose and one alone. His majik ran deeper than the average wolf. His bond with Odin stronger than most.
After twelve hundred years, Wade knew exactly what Odin expected of him. Would always expect of him. And now, as he performed his duty for his god, he wondered why the Fates would send his mate to him? Was it a cruel joke on their part? Unless Odin released him from his duty, he would outlive his mate a million times over. As it was, there was a huge age gap that he couldn’t account for. At least not without explaining the longevity of his life—something he was forbidden to do.
If there was a way he could be with Adalyn as her mate, he just couldn’t see it. He was an ancient, she, on the other hand, was a baby—guaranteed to live a far shorter life span than he. Even now, as he worked his way to Helheim with a frightened group of souls following in his path, he could feel Adalyn’s need as the first of what was sure to be many mating dreams overtook his mate.
“Why are we here?” a woman asked.
Wade turned to face the woman, intent on concentrating on his job. If his resolve faltered even once, he would fail at his task, and Odin would have his head. Literally.
“You’re here because of the child you killed. Just because a human jury failed to convict you for your crime, it’s not one you could hide from the gods.”
The woman’s face paled. Wade bit his tongue. He wanted to say more but held back. The souls behind him had already been judged. There was no need to add his commentary. Their eternal afterlife would be bad enough.
As the night wore on, the mating dreams threatened Wade. One by one, visions of his mate’s dreams flashed through his mind. Images of making love to her caused his heartbeat to speed up, his steps falter. Each dream more intense than the previous.
His thoughts were scattered. Not a good thing when it was time to enter the gates of Hell. He knew better. Really—he did, but the images coming from his mate were more than even he could handle.
“Hey, asshole!” a condemned man shouted behind him. “If you think I’m going to march willingly into Hell, you’re as crazy as the rest of these idiots following you!”
“You will go and willingly, or I’ll remove your head and your spirit will have no chance at redemption or rebirth.” Wade flexed his hand. A fiery sword appeared out of thin air. The bright orange glow from the majikal sword was as bright as the sun, and easily lit the darkened path around them.
His sword wasn’t forged like the average sword. It had been forged and cursed by dwarves for one of Odin’s sons. No creature, dead or alive, could survive even the smallest nick from the sword. That alone made it a highly prized possession for those drunk with power. One of the most desired weapons in existence. The fabled weapon was said to demand death each time it was wielded. Tyrfing would never miss its mark, ensuring the bearers victory. What king wouldn’t want that kind of power in his grasp?
Wade watched as the others in the group carefully fanned out, away from the man who dared to fight his sentence.
“No! It can’t be. Tyrfing is nothing but a legend,” the man protested.
“Yet here we are,” Wade said flatly.
With one quick flash, the man’s head fell to the ground. His soul forever destroyed. Any hope for redemption vanished as quickly as the sword.
“Anyone else in the group have any questions?” Wade asked, certain the others had no desire to meet the same fate.
No one spoke.
Not a single word.
It made the rest of the long journey much easier.
* * *
The night had been a long one for Wade. He trudged back to his house in silence. The smell of fire and brimstone clung to his clothes, his skin. His wolf unusually silent in his mind. Neither of them liked their job, but it was one that needed to be done.
Wade had almost left the souls to their own devices a hundred times over, wanting instead to be with his mate. The dream she’d had replayed through his mind on repeat. The jury was still out whether it was a blessing or a curse that he’d been able to see everything she had dreamed. Having heard of the mating dreams many times over from pack mates, he shouldn’t have been surprise by it. Shouldn’t have been, but he was.
Sexy.
Hot.
Wild.
Fuck!
He wanted that with Adalyn more than he wanted to see the next sunrise on the horizon. The images had filled his mind and made his cock rise—throb even. Not the most comfortable thing, considering he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. The cock or the dream. It killed him. He should be there to take care of his mate, to see to her needs—her desires. Every last one that had filled his mind.
Instead, he was stuck escorting souls to Helheim. Begging Odin for a reassignment would do no good. He had tried once, long ago, when he’d longed to settle down with a woman who, though not his mate, held his interest like no other. She was the only one Wade had ever allowed himself to fall in love with. To consider the possibility of having children with.
Odin hadn’t been pleased with Wade’s request. In fact, he’d been infuriated.
“Release you? Did I hear you right? You want me to release you from the job you were created for? Tell me, ingrate. What purpose would you serve if I were to release you?”
He opened his mouth to beg him for mercy, to be allowed to live a normal life. But the cruel god was right and had him by the proverbial balls. What purpose would Wade serve if Odin released him? He wasn’t created to be a normal man, or even a normal shifter. He wasn’t one of Odin’s prized berserkers, whose purpose was to protect the gods. His job—the only reason for his existence was to escort souls to Valhalla or Helheim. It wasn’t to be a husband, a mate, a lover, or a father.
It was as if Odin had plucked the thoughts directly from his mind. Perhaps he had. Odin’s laugh was one he would never forget.
“Forget the foolish dreams you have in your head. You are mine to do with as I wish. To command as I please. Don’t risk it all for time spent between a woman’s legs.”
