Weaving Fate - Nora Ash Page 0,72

Magni would be safe from Odin’s retribution.

“He will not move until we want him to,” I said.

“Good.”

He trusted me, I realized. My enemy trusted that I had secured our captive. He'd entrusted his own brothers’ lives to me.

Had the roles been reversed, would I have trusted him with Magni’s life?

Yes. I would have. Ever since our powers had combined through our bond with Annabel, the knowledge that I could trust this man had taken root.

Fuck.

I looked back down at my mate, finding it impossible to grasp how one tiny human could change me so completely despite how furiously I'd fought against her.

I just needed her power. I did not need the comfort of her weight against my chest, did not need an ally in the man she had also ensnared with that sweetly-scented cunt of hers, did not need to bury my cock inside of her every time the thought of how perfectly she fit around me entered my head.

“You know,” Bjarni said, “the less you fight it, the less it hurts. You don’t want this? Too bad, you chose it. Not even the Norns can force a mate claim.”

I glared at him. I'd chosen this? Nothing about biting down on Annabel’s neck and claiming her for all eternity had been a choice. In that moment, with her pussy clutching at my knot and the smell of her in my nostrils, there had been no other option, no other way.

But maybe he did have a point. Why was I fighting the instincts clamoring at me night and day? Why suffer through this self-flagellation and denial? Like it or not, Annabel was mine—my omega, my mate to enjoy as I pleased. That was my right. All my self-imposed abstinence had caused was misery and distraction. Loki had gotten under my skin largely because I had been so overcome with need for my omega.

Bjarni moved behind her, making my focus slide down Annabel’s naked body to the apex of her thighs.

With a small grunt he pulled out of her pussy, making her moan in protest and shift uncomfortably between us. His knot had finally deflated, it seemed, leaving her used but empty, the scent from their union calling to me.

Why should I deny myself when her other mate did not?

Twenty-Six

Annabel

“Anna.”

My name, rough and demanding, stirred me from the edges of sleep.

I moaned, too exhausted to do much else when strong limbs tightened around me, bringing me back to my body.

A large hand slid from my hip to my ass, pressing me tight against a very male form, the hardness grinding into my pelvis unmistakable even in my groggy state.

“No,” I whined, still too out of it to open my eyes—not that I needed to. Modi’s scent was in my nostrils, our bond humming pleasantly in my chest where my breasts were pressed against his ribcage “Sleep.”

“You fuck him, you fuck me,” he murmured in my ear, the unmistakable heat in his voice raising goosebumps along my neck despite myself. A press of a knee parted my legs, and I groaned another complaint when my thigh slid over his hip, opening me up.

“Sleep,” I repeated, trying to roll back and away from the handsy alpha, irritation rising as my consciousness was forced from the promise of sweet oblivion. I’d been thoroughly sated not moments ago, my only current desire being to rest. But my escape was blocked by another large, warm body—Bjarni.

“Sex, then sleep,” my blond mate purred from behind me, his hands on my breasts tweaking, then lifting as his attention shifted. “Want to convince her? Or are you leaving the pleasuring to a worthier man?”

Even in my annoyed and exhausted state, it was impossible not to hear the challenge in Bjarni’s words.

Instead of answering, Modi enveloped one of my nipples in a wet heat, making me squeak when he sucked it hard.

“Modi,” I protested, the zings of unwanted stimulation finally giving me the strength to raise my arms to push at his bulk. Not that it did any good, what with his mass being about the same as a medium-sized mountain. “Tomorrow, please—”

“You asked me to stay, mate,” he rasped against my breast, flicking my abused nipple with the tip of his tongue before switching his attention to my other breast.

I had.

It hadn’t mattered that Bjarni and I had shared such a private, intimate moment—when Modi had joined us, it felt natural. His cock in my mouth, his hands in my hair, the aching relief in our bond as he'd spilled