Entrapment (Thor's Dragon Rider #3) - Katrina Cope Page 0,33

properly. She follows my line of sight then studies me again. I'll keep an eye out.

She’s right. I couldn’t do anything even if something came to attack us. Although I could try to defend us with my magic and my tiny weapons. I curl into a fetal position between Elan’s front legs. I doubt anything I could do would help, and I am exhausted to the bone from having healed myself and Elan.

She nudges me softly with her nose. That’s it. I’ll wake you if anything happens.

Just knowing Elan is beside me and keeping an eye on things brings me some peace. Uncurling slightly, I lay my head on her front leg then cup my hands, resting my face on them and wriggling slightly to get comfortable. “Okay. But wake me at the first sign of danger. Or if anything happens.”

I will. She brushes her lips against my face, which feels like the comforting kiss of a mother. Relax. Get some rest. If someone does come, you’re going to need your energy.

In a matter of seconds, my eyes close, and I pull my knees closer to my chest, allowing my breath to slow. The needed sleep is overcome by strange dreams and haunted by an enormous lava monster and fire giant. Strong smells of sulfur are eventually overcome by the smell of rotting flesh, pushing my thoughts back to the times on Midgard when we were fighting the angels of death. Even in my dreams, I realize that hoping the angels of death would come is wishful thinking. More likely is the possibility that I’ve been dragged into the depths of Helheim. I imagine it’s filled with the smell of rotting corpses even though I haven’t been there. After all, that’s where the dead without an honorable death go. Then again, maybe just the souls occupy it, not the bodies.

The smell grows stronger, overwhelming my senses until I can no longer smell anything else. A warm breeze brushes over my face, chilling the accumulated sweat. The coolness lures me from my light sleep, and I crack my eyelids. Wing shapes framed against the lava river background flutter before me, and I blink, attempting to clear my vision. The shapes remain, and I pry my eyes open farther.

Between the wings hang human male forms. After prying a hand from under my face, I rub my eyes to remove my hallucination. When it doesn’t budge, I push myself upright and stare.

At first, fear rises within me. Every muscle tenses as I brace myself, ready to defend us with Elan’s help. Then I realize it’s a swarming flock of angels of death. Two of them fly in together. Between them hangs a strong male form with bulging muscles and no wings. The two angels of death sway as though unbalanced by his bulk.

Something is familiar about this man, and I watch their descent until they land with an ungraceful thud.

Excitement overcomes me as I rise to my feet. This must be Freya's rescue party. She must've sent them. Even though I know she instructs the dark warrior angels, I'm surprised they’ve come. They're the Valkyries’ long-time enemies.

The human that had hung between them charges toward me.

Conscious that the lava monster is still above us, I say in a voice not much louder than a whisper, “Beowulf?”

He stands straight, crosses his forearms, and thumps his fists twice on his chest. “In the flesh.”

I cringe at the level of his voice but smirk. This was how he greeted my friends and me when we first encountered him, and it made us laugh. We thought he was rather weird. However, he also saw us as the enemy then because we were riding our monstrous beasts, the dragons.

More angels of death fly into the cave, their faces serene and their landings soft.

Gazing upward, I watch to see if the monster shows any signs of knowing they’re here. When his backside doesn’t move, I return my attention to Beowulf and whisper, “What are you doing here? How did you know about this rescue party?”

“I'm Beowulf. Slayer of all monst—” His voice is still too loud, and instantly, the two angels of death that escorted him each slap a hand over his mouth, stopping his words while shushing him.

A frustrated expression crosses Beowulf’s face before it flattens in resignation. When they pull their hands away from his mouth, this time, he keeps his voice in a whisper. “I'm here to guide them in slaying the monsters. It's not their