Garmr
UnholyHelheim,doIhate this dog.
If my mistress had sent anyone else, anything else, I’d have killed it and followed my link to Finaan to warn her to get the fuck out of these caves. And then I’d return to her realm to face my punishment. Hel will never let go of the part of my soul she owns, and I’ve realized I’m ready for her wrath. I’ve fucked up a lot of shit in my life. It’s time to pay the price. And doing it for my mate? Perfect.
Turns out I can be noble, after all.
I really wish I’d fucked my skjaldmær first. Well, fucked her while she was awake, her soft eyes watching me as I wrung every bit of pleasure I could from her body. She’ll never forgive me when she learns what I did to her while she slept in Helheim. But she’d have been thanking the gods for all that I learned while she dreamt. I know better than any lover could how her cunt responds to my fingers and my cock, which spots will make her tremble and scream, how to draw out her orgasm by caressing her clit just the right way.
It’s a gods-damned travesty I’ll never be able to give her the ecstasy I practiced and honed for her.
And she is going to find out because I plan to tell her. My skjaldmær needs to know what I’ve done. She needs to know how loathsome I am, so she doesn’t grieve me. Our bond is stronger now than it was when she left Helheim. It’s powerful enough to bring her despair when I give my life to free her dragon or get dragged back to Helheim. She’ll hate me again when she learns how despicably I’ve used her. Then she’ll get over me and live the life she deserves.
But first I have to get rid of this mongrel. And I don’t have a single idea how to do that.
I can’t kill him. He’s Helheim’s hound, larger than most horses, and basically indestructible.
Worse, Hel’s given him abilities she never shared with me. He can sense my emotions, no matter how desperately I try to shield them. Three fucking times, I led him down a false path. He figured it out every time, ripping pieces out of me as he dragged me back to the right one.
Turning, I glare at the cur. He’s even uglier than Hel. Only half of her is decayed and decomposed. Every bit of this beast is.
I know he lived as a dog in Midgard because that’s what Hel claims, but he looks as if he’s never existed beyond Helheim and its mistress’s dark pleasures. He still has dog-like features. He walks on four legs and has a short, blunt snout with remnants of coarse black fur dotted across his massive, muscle-bound body. His teeth and claws might have been normal centuries ago, but now they’re sharper than any canine’s inMidgard, each of them a dagger that can puncture and shred the thickest hide.
It’s his eyes, though, that mark him as Hel’s. They’re as red as blood, casting crimson light in our path to mark our way. Drool drips from the sides of his mouth, streaking the floor as we travel. But worst of all—so fucking much worse—the hound stinks. Rotting flesh and rancid blood surround us, perpetually assaulting my senses and throwing all of them out of whack.
If I had access to Wrath, Garmr would have no hope. He’s strong, but my beast is stronger. Hel knows she can’t trust me, though, and she bound Wrath even more tightly than before. I’ve got access to his senses, so I can see enough to move through the caves, but that’s it. Occasionally, I feel his restless, anxious writhing inside me as he struggles to break free. He won’t be able to. Hel made sure of that.
Fuck, do I hate this dog.
“We’re going the wrong way,” I tell him for the tenth or twentieth time today. “You’ve pulled me from the right path again and again. I’m pretty sure you’ve fully fucked us. We’ll never find her.”
He growls, a deep rumble from the center of his chest, and bares his teeth. He can’t use words but I know what he’s saying. He doesn’t believe me, and I can’t blame him. Next time, I’ll get a better grip on my emotions before I try to lead him away from her. And there will be a next time. And a time after that. I can’t take Finaan back to Helheim or let Garmr do it. I won’t.
She’s too alive to be condemned to the land of the dead.
I also can’t deny how much I crave her. I’ve felt her presence in these caves since shortly after leaving Helheim, a warmth where our bond lives that reminds me I’m alive, for now. That she’s mine and I’m hers. It’s a stronger bond than it should be, my … activities … while she slept creating a connection she doesn’t want. I can’t regret it, though. Tasting Finaan, holding her, fucking her, was the only bright spot in my miserable existence.
Twice, we stop to eat, forcing down the nutrition our bodies require outside of Helheim. I try to delay but Garmr shoves me off the rock I’m sitting on, snapping and growling until I give in and start walking again. I haven’t figured out how I can stop him from chasing Finaan himself if I refuse to continue, and I can’t risk him finding my skjaldmær and the others before I can warn them.
If only we had more dragons. Ruxi’s a fierce beast—I can’t deny the fates knew what they were doing in that bond too—but they’re not strong enough to beat Garmr. If we had more dragons, they’d have a chance.
Fuck me.
That’s the answer.
I can’t believe it took me so gods-damned long to see it.
They’re trying to find Panta and the other dragons.
We’ll meet them there and I’ll free them. If I can’t—if Hel’s figured out a way to deny me that too—I’ll provoke Garmr. If I can’t kill him with Ruxi’s help, I’ll make sure he kills me.
My death will free the dragons. They’ll take Finaan away from Helheim.
And maybe my skjaldmær will realize I’m not a complete wretch.
That hope carries me through the next few hours of trudging beside the rotting corpse. Sooner than I’d like, though, we reach the fork that will lead us to the dragons and away from Finaan. I focus on the fact that we’ll meet them there, bolstering that intent and wrapping the best shield I can muster around the deception. And I stride to the right.
Garmr’s low growl bounces toward me as he nips at my heels.
