Weaving Fate - Nora Ash Page 0,80

I can only hope that you will see the wisdom of my words.”

Twenty-Eight

Modi

The furs were empty by my side when I woke up again sometime after dawn. Empty and cold.

I caught myself stroking the skins where Annabel had slept, her scent still lingering. Hers and Bjarni’s.

I wrinkled my nose, but the smell of alpha wasn’t unpleasant. Perhaps because it was so thoroughly intertwined with my own and mixed with copious amounts of omega fluids.

Tentatively I prodded the bond connecting me to Annabel—and through her, Bjarni. It hummed peacefully in response, followed by an immediate tension.

Annabel. She felt me awaken. And where she had been calm, she was now anxious.

I swallowed a frustrated growl. What had I expected? That giving in to my instincts would have quelled the nightmare of confusion and pain between us?

Please, Modi. It was sex. Nothing more.

Just instincts.

The snow was still tumbling from a gray sky in thick flakes when I exited the flimsy tent to take stock of the camp.

Bjarni and Annabel sat on the near side of the fire, her in his lap, undoubtedly to protect her from the cold trunk serving as a seat. They both looked at me when I appeared, Annabel’s pretty face drawn with trepidation and Bjarni’s relaxed.

On the other side someone had rebound Loki with his hands in front of his body, and had even shoved a mug of something hot and steamy into them.

“We are pampering the World Breaker now?” I asked as I strode toward Bjarni and Annabel. “I thought you had given up on the ties of blood after his betrayal.”

“More names?” Loki asked, arcing a sardonic eyebrow over his mug. “I suppose World Breaker sounds better than The Betrayer. If you must.”

“Don’t look at me,” Bjarni rumbled. “I’d have been happy to leave him frozen solid until we reach Valhalla. Our soft-hearted mate thought that would be too cruel. Something about being better than that.”

I glanced down at Annabel and caught her gaze before she managed to look away. Heat rose in her cheeks, a flicker of embarrassment stirring our bond. Not for what she had done for Loki—for what we had done last night.

Judging from how she was cozied up to Bjarni, it did not seem she had such reservations with him.

“Soft-hearted?” I repeated, breaking our eye contact as I stepped away and toward the fire where a plate of bacon and beans was warming. I might not be Bjarni Lokisson’s biggest fan, but I had to hand it to the man—not many would be able to cook up such an inviting meal mid-Fimbulwinter, with only the sparsest of provisions available.

“Foolish, more likely. Do not fall for the trickster’s words of pity. I do not want to have to hunt him down again because of your inability to do what is necessary. He has earned everything that is coming to him and more.”

Annabel did not respond, but I felt the flicker of embarrassment turn to hurt, then anger. Bjarni only sighed.

Better. It was much easier to deal with the blasted bond when her end reflected nothing but that nasty temper of hers back at me. She was my reluctant mate—we had fucked, it felt good, and in the bright light of day there was no room for confusing emotions. Anger was easy. Painful, but familiar.

I would take anger over regret any day of the week.

The trek back to the human settlement of Seattle took longer than our journey out. The snow was thicker on the ground, making walking a slower, more arduous task, especially for Annabel.

Bjarni led our small group, Loki in tow with a firm grasp on the rope around his wrists. Annabel followed, leaving me to bring up the rear, carrying our tent and supplies.

To the little omega’s credit, she did not complain as she struggled through the snow, and she was smart to stay directly behind Loki and his Jotunn son, but the snow was still deep and tricky. I watched her fight her way through the harsh terrain, her pace slowing gradually despite her best efforts, and gritted my teeth.

If she had been any less stubborn, I would have picked her up and slung her over the gear on my back to save her the struggle, but thanks to our little moment on Bifrost, I had a good inkling that it would not be well-received.

Not that I should have card. She was slowing us down. I should have grabbed her, hoisted her over my shoulder, and ignored her displeasure. The end.

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