Addictive Gloamshade (10 page)

“
I still think you have the hots for Ewan,” I mumble, deflated, feeling shitty even though I don't know why. “And for the record fuckwit, I've only been here a day. Unreasonable much?”

Despondently I walk away, my heels clomping loudly as I move through his chambers with a large dose of misery for company.

Handfast?

I wonder if Ewan's still awake? I think it's time I interrogated the puppet master.

Chapter 15

All the earth's offspring must empty the homesteads,
When furiously smiteth Midgard's defender

~ Völuspá

Gunn:

When her footfalls fade, I slump, holding my head in my hands, staring my desperation into the floor hoping Skadi will alleviate my suffering.

God damn it. Shit for balls and brains.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I wriggle, easing my tight nuts out of a pinch, willing the boner to fuck off.

*

Deliah
:

Tapping softly on the screen just inside his rooms, I am pleased to see the crystals are still glowing their placid welcome inside the dark corners of his volcanic cavern.

“
You can come in, sweetheart,” calls to me.

Rolling my eyes, I enter the open plan living space of the don.

Ewan's lying on his side on his bed playing catnip mouse with Bella, his relaxed smile vanishing when his eyes narrow at me, “What happened?”

Diving off the bed faster than lightning earthing, he's in front of me gripping my arms, “Who upset you?”

“It's nothing,” I grumble, winching my arm out of his hold, “Listen, we need to talk.”

“
That's my line,” he smiles, gesturing to the chairs in front of the hearth where a dying fire simmers tangerine embers. Letting him lead me over to the cozy nook, he says as we sit down, “You look nice. You should wear spikes more often.”

“
Ha, yeah right.”

He gives me a 'pursed lip pointy nose twitch' perceptive stare, “It's Gunn, isn't it? Ignore him Deliah, he's fighting with himself, not with you.”

“And why is that, Ewan? Why is he under the misguided impression I want to handfast with him?”

“
That all depends on what you read in the mist?”

Becoming decidedly grumpy, my buzz subsiding rapidly, I twist in my chair to face him, “It didn't mention anything about handfasting.”

“We all get our own guidance from the mist, it's as personal as it is diverse,” he says, picking at the stitching on the arm of his chair. “Gunn's foretells a handfasting with you, but you have a choice as Gunn isn't the only eagle portended the opportunity to handfast with you. The gods guide us through their
m
i
stical
writings, but ultimately the choice is yours. They simply point out the best matches for you. Gunn is taking it to heart as a sealed fate which is why he's being so obstinate.”

Arching my eyebrows at him, I lean closer, trying to see into his averted eyes, “Who else was chosen by the 'gods'?”

Does he truly believe in all this oracle shit?

Looking up, meeting my gaze, he gives me a frugal smile, “What will be will be, it's not my place to hand over the names of your perfect partners.”

It's now that I notice his palm pulsing yellow light again.

“
Why does your hand do that?”

“
It's the energy of the clan leader. Only leaders have the light in their palm,” he says. “I'm sorry Gunn offended you.”

“
He didn't offend me, he behaved like a bully trying to get under my skin and failing miserably. Is he gay?”

*

Gunn:

Blasted woman! I can't concentrate now and have so much anger to work off I may as well just go after the fucking Ravens.

There's no point in waiting for morning when
she's
hungover and delicate. She's a hindrance on this mission.

Pissed off I stand from my vision caim, moving to my bedroom, pulling on combat trousers and boots. Hefting the skin around my shoulders, I plant my sword between my shoulder blades and make my way through the catacombs.

I'll inform Ewan out of respect. Nothing more, nothing less.

Bloody handfasting with a woman who hasn't been training for longer than two days in our clan. What the hell is he thinking?

Entering his chamber with habitual stealth, I overhear her remark.

Ewan bursts out laughing, saying, “Oh hell no. What on earth gave you that impression?”

“He just seems, I dunno ... like he is trying too hard to hate me. When someone works that hard at making you feel unwelcome it's because they feel threatened, and you're the only reason I can fathom for him being so bitterly defensive as to be vindictive toward me. If he wanted you it's not like I'd get in his way or anything. I'm not a threat.”

Her voice is drowsy from drink, warm and risqué. Threaten me indeed. Ha!

“Liah, Gunn is a good man. You've just caught him at a stressful time, his animosity shouldn't be taken personally. Give him the benefit of the doubt poppet, and you'll see he's as solid as he is fierce. Way back in the day we use to tease him by calling him McFierceson. It suits him, don't you agree?”

Enough.

Clearing my throat, I step out of the shadows, “Ewan, I'm not waiting for your precocious princess to get her beauty sleep. I'm going after the Ravens now.”

She pounces out of her chair as if I attached a live wire to the back of her head. Guilt wrestles her expression for a moment and the glimpse of fear in her eyes gives me satisfaction. Pulling herself upright she tilts her chin, pocketing her thumbs and giving me a defiant stare. Cute chin, strong with a faint cleft.

She shouldn't wear skinny jeans and high heels, no sir, not in this place. I'm tempted to prove to her just how ungay I am while she looks like such a willowy drink of sexy. Then she'll have a proper reason to run from me.

Ewan stands, glancing at the dozing cat and then back at me, his eyes heating, “Let's check their status before you go marching out there ready to commit voluntary manslaughter to get away from Deliah.”

*

Macala:

“Don't fucking touch me!”

Splaying my hands helplessly, I don't know how else to apologize. “Come on elksling, please calm down.”

Sleet is falling in a deluge of cutting razors and the ground trembles, falling mountain shaking the sky in peals of detonating rumbles.

Búri, what have I done? She's in so much pain she's leveling the mountain range, the l
æraðr taking too long to alleviate her suffering. “Em, baby, you're going to crush us. You're destroying the habitats of creatures who've done no harm to you.”

She's pale and sweating profusely, her teeth clenched in a grimace of agony, hissing accusation, “I'm a fledgling. There are ways to teach and then there are ways to teach. You are so fired!”

Every shiver from the cold evicts another scream from her and it's rupturing my heart into pieces. I can feel what she's experiencing and I'm trying my damnedest to harness my harii courage and not expose it to her.

Clenching my fist as a new spike of agony lances down my legs, I hobble to the fire, adding more kindling, wishing she would push the clouds away. She has the power, not me. In fact I'm of the opinion that it's her pain that's unleashed this storm, exasperating the dilemma.

*

Deliah:

Ewan's woken Alweada to accompany Gunn, and my fantastic evening has made me persona non grata around here. I'm getting fed up with the capricious attitudes.

Being a member of this clandestine operation suits me. It serves my purpose as I hadn't found a home yet, and didn't know where to settle where I'd be safe. This crowd opened their doors, gave me solutions to my problems, and made me feel like a pertinent member of their sect.

I don't have to worry about housecleaning, working, groceries, or even clothing. Everything is supplied, and they're teaching me skills I've been wanting to learn but hadn't yet had the opportunity to acquire. It gives me the space I need to find my equilibrium, to be a better me, and now it's all gone to shit because of this man's stupid ego.

“
Pull up the Asgard imagery,” orders Ewan, marching around his enormous desk in command central.

Feeling like a spare part I sit in the cluster of chairs in the corner, out of the way, while the men run around like we're at war. I don't understand half of what's going on, so look back at Gunn dressed like a savage out of a superhero comic. What a weirdo.

Feeling my gaze on him, he looks my way, scouring me with malice. “What?”

He spits it out as if itching for a confrontation.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

It never hurt to ask, right?

“We wear bear skins in battle. I am proudly
Ulfhednar.”

Oh yeah, thanks for clearing that up. How about giving me the English version of your riddle.

Ewan glances up from his conference with Alweada as they erect a black tray on the wall and connect crystals to it, saying, “Liah, I mentioned we are Norse Giants. Our clan are proudly Odin's elite task force, which is what the name Ulfhednar means. Nothing stops us, and even in death we have ways and means of completing the battle and felling the enemy. I'm sure you've seen pathetic renditions of Vikings dressed for battle? Modern scribes have the poodle by the dingleberry when they depict us wearing wolf skins. Not one of us would be able to wear something that ill fitting. Our nickname comes from the Norse word for bear, because our battle gear is a bear skin.”

“
What's the nickname?” I ask.

“
Berserkr, It means bear coat,” he gives me an encouraging wink.

That explains why Gunn looks like a character from Asterix and Obelix. All legs and weightlifter chest, proudly exposing his scars with a brown warm looking pelt acting as a cape.

Alweada smiles compassion at me, giving me his skew nose wrinkle, his green eyes soft and kind, “Our clan never wear horns. Our sister clan, the Ravens, wear pitch black, rising like mist out of the night, silent as shadows when they attack. We're the second rank, and we're the final word. Nothing can stop us, Deliah. We're fucking badass. It's hard to explain, it would be better if you simply witnessed us in action.”

Ewan shakes his head, pointing at me, “Remember our little pow-wow? The way you shut off mentally when you're in attack mode, that's what happens to all of us. It's like meditation, calm, serene, perfect. It is akin to reveling directly in Odin and Búri's presence. They channel their peace into us but only when we're in the throes of violence.”

Alweada grins at me, “Needless to say when we have nookie it gets a bit wild. Our orgasms are brutal.”

Ewan erupts with laughter, turning back to the contraption, fiddling until it blinks to life to display an image as if it's connected to a satellite.

Glancing at Gunn, I catch him watching me, his expression a little less hostile. Seeing my observation, he says, “Now you know why I'm dressed like this. I earned the right.” Dismissing me, he stalks to the screen where the other two men stand as if before a jury.

Jeez! He's got a sword strapped to his back with a double axe-head at the bottom. It's like a javelin with two weapons in one. He must be stronger than a bison to wield that thing.

Ewan glances back at me, a smile playing on his lips while he multitasks, eavesdropping on my thoughts. Embarrassed, I stick my tongue at him behind everyone's backs.

Seeing the three of them side by side like that I'm truly beginning to feel like a ballerina. They look like gladiators who fell into the potion when they were wee lads.

Twisting slightly, Ewan flexes his bicep at me, giving me his shit eating smirk.

It's enough to snap the tension eating me and I burst out laughing just as the screen in front of them shows a mountain falling flat. Like it fainted and couldn't be bothered to be tall and indomitable another second.

Ewan looks at it, then at me, then at the other two men, grabbing bibs and bobs off his desk with urgency. The alarm on his face which flicked across his features for a nanosecond pumps panic into me.

“
What? What's going on?”

“
That chick is a Thur. No doubt about it,” Ewan answers.

“
What's a Thur?” I ask, looking between them, despairing at the clenched jaws and battle ready expressions.

“
A Thur... fuck we don't have time for this. Liah, everything you think of when someone mentions Thor, that sums up a Thur for you. It's a race of men created for god. They are immortals amongst giants. They are the best of the best.”

“
With hammers and stuff?” I ask, unclasping my shoe straps so I can run if I have to.

“
They
are
the fucking hammers, Deliah,” says Gunn, in an impatient tone. “Mjilnor is a sect of our society. Nothing – not even a god – can apprehend or stop a Thur. Thor's name represents his lineage. He was the first Thur. For the record we don't call him Thor, we call him Thur. The power of the hammer Mjilnor is not lightning, it's way worse. You just witnessed it on that screen.”