“One your mistress kept from us,” I remind him, the fucker. “You chose that. We didn’t.”
He shrugs, popping the next bite into his mouth with a slightly less enthusiastic moan. “I had no choice,” he claims. “You’ll understand in time. When you know me better.”
I lean back, shaking my head at the ridiculous statement. “No, I won’t,” I insist, “because I don’t plan to know you better. I’m here to get information. Nothing more.”
Now, he stops eating, relaxing into his own chair as his body mirrors mine. “You have no idea, do you?” he asks in a tone I’d call amused, if I believed this male capable of emotion.
“What are you talking about?” I demand. “No idea of what?”
And then he smiles, a cat who’s caught his prey. This isn’t amusement. It’s victory and hunger and dominance all rolled into one searing gaze. “I found you because we’re connected,” he tells me as his fingers steeple in front of him, a spire dedicated to his god rising between his eyes.
“But you said that was a lie. That you didn’t follow some link we still have with Helheim.”
“You misunderstand,” Wregen murmurs, forcing me to sit forward to catch his words. “I’m not connected to the other elves, worthless, pitiful creatures that they are. I’m connected to you, and you to me.”
His words wriggle inside, finding that place in my gut that measures truth and falsity, helping me know what’s real and what’s not. A ripple of knowledge peeks up in response, telling me what he’s about to say.
Telling me his words will be true.
“You’re my mate, Finaan,” Wregen rumbles in the low tone that digs into my soul to feed the roots planted there long ago by vengeful, capricious gods, or maybe the fickle fates. “I followed you here becauseweare connected. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. And it’s time for you to return with me to Helheim.”
My heart pauses as his words sink in. And then it stirs into a frenzy, the detestable part of me rejoicing at his claim before I can quash the desire I can never, ever let myself feel for this male.
Chapter seven
Wregen
My Magic
Mygazefollowsherass, like it did yesterday when she left me. I never took that hole. That intrusion would have pulled her from even the deepest sleep. But I find my thoughts drawn there more and more since her visit.
She’ll beg me to fuck her ass, sooner than she realizes. All her holes are mine, even if she’s not ready to admit it. I’ll use her whether she likes it or not, but I can tell already. She’ll grow to love every single thing I’m going to do with that body.
Dragging my thoughts away, I focus on her reaction. I knew she’d leave as soon as I told her, but I got what I needed first. She can feel the connection between us too. Before I even mentioned it, her shoulders slumped and her eyes grew sharp. Still, my ferocious skjaldmær held my gaze as I confirmed what she already suspected.
This is a risk. I’ll have to figure out a way to protect her when we get to Helheim. But Wrath won’t wait until then to taste her again. To fuck her again.
Our trip home will be much longer than my journey here. When I left Helheim, I simply dropped into the endless hole that carried me to Jörmungandr’s waters. That path goes onlyone way, though. To return, the serpent will carry us from here to the closest caves—as far as we can go without risking injury—and we’ll travel the rest of the way by foot. I’ll need to break down her barriers along the way, giving Wrath what he craves before he wrests himself free of my control and takes it. Even Hel’s hold on him won’t stop the frenzy I can already feel starting to build.
That would fuck up everything I’m trying to do with Finaan.
Thank Hel she came up with a solution to feed me. I needed that meal nearly as badly as I need her. It’ll give me strength to keep Wrath bound despite our distance from my mistress, and to start to explore my magic again. Already, I can feel it seeping through my veins, an old familiar friend.
I start slowly, stretching the muscles of my power, searching. Svend will be here, and he won’t be happy to be separated from Hel’s dreadful realm. I watched all the elves there, knew them, many better than they knew themselves. He alone fully embraced Helheim. Something about it spoke to him. The others will be loath to admit how much they miss that dark place. If I know that weasel of an elf—and I do—he’ll be shouting it every chance he gets.
Got him. And he’s on his way. His desires wash over me, confirming what I suspected. He’ll free me. It won’t even take magic to persuade him, although the next step of my plan will require a strong push. Even as Svend grew to love Hel’s world, my mistress never could wring the humanity out of thebastard. He’s weak, with a soft heart. I’ll need to convince him that dragging the rest of the elves with us is for their good too.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I snarl when he appears on the stairs, his eyes wide and mouth dropping open. “I’ve been here six days. Why did you not come to me when I arrived?” I let Wrath’s raging fury settle into my words, alive and vicious.
“Master,” the worthless elf intones as he rushes down the steps and drops to his knees, his gaze fixed on the feet that are still behind bars, no thanks to him. “I didn’t know,” he whimpers. “I learned of your presence a few hours ago but couldn’t get to you before she did.”
At that, he raises his head, daring to look at me. His eyes spark, as if in anger at Finaan, feeding Wrath’s ire. The beast writhes inside me, his need to punish this insolent elf—who dares to think ill of our mate—almost more than I can control. With visions of my skjaldmær’s ass still dominating my thoughts, I decide to abate my need for Finaan as I did when she left Hel’s realm: with someone else’s pain and a release that’s barely enough.
“You’ve been away from Helheim for too long,” I grunt. “You’ve forgotten the price of failure.”
He sucks in a deep breath, dark eyes growing wide as he realizes what I’m demanding. We’ve done this before, many times, and his hesitation angers us even more. But he doesn’t delay for long. He knows better. Within a few seconds, he reaches trembling hands for the hem of his tunic, lifting it up and over his head.
I gust out a sigh, eager to give Wrath what he needs as the beast waits—not very patiently—for Finaan to accept us. Reaching down, I shove my fist into my pants and grasp my shaft. Fucker is still as soft as the baby chicks I played with as a child, before Wrath erupted into my life and started killing everything that brought me a hint of joy. Even my Hel-damned cock is failing me today.
