Chapter 5
Fólkvangr, Falls of the Dead – Thule
“It goes against everything I am to see you in pain and not fix it, Gefn.” Pothos growled as he moved into Gefn’s space in the span of less than a heartbeat. He was nearly touching her, his tense wide shoulders and hard chest were so close to her face, her lips, that she could breathe him in.
“Are you in pain as well?” She narrowed her eyes, thinking he might have hidden it better than she had.
He clenched his teeth. “I feel yours. And that’s worse than if I were in pain myself. All you need to do is tell me to touch you.” He looked dangerous and wild, but his reaction to her discomfort somehow gave her reassurance he’d never attempt to harm her. His next words were gritted out through his clenched teeth. “I want nothing more than to replace the pain with pure pleasure. I’m struggling here, Gefn. I know you must feel like one choice has already been taken from you, that fate forced us together, so I’m trying to give you the chance to choose now, but I won’t be able to hold it back for long. Tell me to touch you. Tell me to make you feel good, and after that I promise to explain everything.”
Another sharp pang hit, and that time she anticipated it. Her features were set even though her entire body shuddered with the will she was exerting in order not to reach up and touch his chest, his hard jaw.
Another low growl issued from his firm lips and the sound vibrated against all her oversensitive nerve endings. She hid the pain from her features, but it seemed he still felt it. It was strange knowing he shared it with her. They were in this together. She felt it deep in her soul. Her beasts had already been trying to convince her of a fact she’d already known.
“It is not that bad.” She swallowed. “I really must get back to your world to calm Hroarr before he does something to your family.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think the beasts will free him?”
She shook her head. “No.” She ignored her cats’ displeasure as she continued, “Though I am not sure they can hold him. He will demand to see me safe.”
She snapped at Spa and Velspar through their bond, I get that you want to whore me out, but the situation is a little stressful! If I am to be of two worlds, then I cannot allow Hroarr to rip them apart to find me, can I? He will not trust what any of them say.
She swore she heard a huff from Spa. Point made. It wasn’t as if she were pleased with them at the moment either.
To Pothos she said, “I need to get back there and talk to him, to calm him. You have no idea what you are dealing with.” The ability to breathe was getting more and more difficult. How could desire be so debilitating? He smelled so incredibly good, like the woods at night, and she itched to taste the tense cords of his neck. Her eyes moved to the flexing muscle of his chest inches from her face. His majestic wings had flexed higher on his back, making him even larger and so incredibly magnificent.
She noted his eyes on her as if concentrating before he rubbed a hand over his head. “What are we dealing with? My family is trying to prevent war with yours over this. What will he do?”
“Whatever he has to in order to find me.”
“If they tell him we are here?”
“He will not trust them.”
“My power is too out of control to be around anyone. I’m guessing you’re immune as my mate, but when I tried to contain it before, it only made the need that much stronger.” He was watching her closely. So that was what had spiked the desire earlier. She’d felt the change in his power, felt the wild surge of need that came with it. It made sense that he hadn’t tried again after telling her it was out of control.
Suddenly she felt the elements change around them and knew they were about to have visitors, and there were only so many options on who would be arriving in this sacred place. It was Hroarr’s priestesses, his þrír, who appeared. Pothos was in front of her a second later, wings wide and flexed as he built so much power the air was sucked from her lungs. It was so strong, pure and intoxicating, and that protective streak of his aroused her even more, when it probably should have insulted her.
She forced herself to move, calling the winds to put her before Pothos. Hroarr’s priestesses had already built power, and she didn’t want them to attack in their shock at seeing them there.
“These are Hroarr’s priestesses. They are not a threat to either of us,” she said to Pothos even as she raised a brow at Reginleif, Geiravor and Mist before commanding, “Do not attack, ladies.”
Clouds filled the sky, blocking out the sun as winds whipped through the forest, letting out an eerie song.
Three sets of wide jewel-colored eyes met hers, cooling some of the blinding desire. Mist was in front of the others. Her pale hair, the color of snow-capped glaciers, lifted around her wildly as her wide crystal gaze moved from Gefn to the male she stood in front of, protecting him, cradling him in her power.
The erotic sensation of his voice sliding into her mind made her stifle a moan. Let me loose, thea mou. Don’t make me break your hold.
“What was that?” She nearly moaned.
Mind speak is one of my abilities. As my female, you should be able to do it as well. His voice was seductive torture and she did moan that time. He needed to stop. It was too much when she was already so incredibly needy.
Mist’s voice and the fact that the priestesses were all still on guard drew her attention back to the situation. “What was what? Gefn, how are you here? Who is he?”
“He is my male… The son of a God from another world and Eir.” She released her winds from around him and felt him move next to her as she took a deep breath to add, “He is my maðr.” Her consort. Gasps rent the air, but she needed them to see this. She needed them to know, to go to Hroarr for her. “Pothos was championed by Spa and Velspar.”
All three sisters’ mouths dropped further if possible as they shook their heads. The renown beauties were clearly shocked as they spouted questions all at once. “This is… How? His power. All this power. It is wild and pure… But how did we not know of his birth?” Gefn had a hard time keeping track of who was saying what.
Reginleif was the one to shake her head, gaping. “His power is the same as ours. The same, but so much stronger. Out of control.”
Geiravor was the first to step forward. She was the second tallest with hair the color of the forest and eyes that sparkled a brilliant moss color. Her wide-set eyes were the shape of almonds, set in honey-colored skin, and her voice held awe when she spoke. “A nephew.”
“Eir sent him away before she died.” She felt Pothos’ tension and she whispered through the winds for his ears only, “So many priestesses were killed before we contained my evil brother Tyr and the others. There has never been another birth to a priestess or God of our world. At least not that we are aware of. You are special, Pothos.” To her and to the priestesses who’d never had young and never thought it possible for one of them to do so. She could see it in their eyes. They were being cautious, as cautious as Pothos was being with them. Tension and uncertainty filled the air.
Reginleif was shaking her head, and Gefn understood their shock. Her golden catlike eyes were stunningly wide against the backdrop of her dark skin. The trio’s pale-colored dresses flirted in the winds as they moved. The silk slid over their curves as the currents carried them closer.
“How did you know to come here?” Gefn asked as all three shook off their apparent shock.
“We felt drawn.” Reginleif stared at Pothos, speaking mostly to herself. “He thought to protect you when we arrived. He brought you here?”
“Yes.” Gefn nodded as she took a breath.
“How did we not know he existed?” Reginleif demanded again, anger and sorrow in her tone, but they all knew it wasn’t a true question. Eir had done what she’d had to do during a horrible and deadly time.
Mist spoke next. “The wings are from his father?”
“Yes,” Gefn answered before doing a quick introduction. She had her way to get a message to Hroarr. It eased her mind right when her body seemed to reel out of control. Not caring that she had witnesses. He was close enough to touch, to set her lips on his shoulder. He’d said this would get worse and he’d been right. The pain was increasing.
The need was too intoxicating and she realized just how uncomfortable she was with them there. She was going to have to go on faith. Her cats had approved of him for a reason.
“Reginleif, I need you to go to Hroarr through the open portal in his study. He and Dagur are in Pothos’ world. I need you to tell him that I am safe. And that I need time.”
She felt the urgency to get them out. She was completely losing control of the desire.
Reginleif narrowed her eyes and nodded. “You are right, Goddess. This kind of power should have rendered you completely enthralled. Maybe worse. Even our combined power is but a fraction of what is flowing here. It would be dangerous in our world.”
Mist turned to Pothos. “Do you need us to try to help you control it?”
“No,” he ground out. “It’s fate trying to connect me to your Goddess. It won’t stop until we bond.”
They frowned. “Bond.”
“Our life forces are pushing to connect in the way of my people.”
Reginleif narrowed her eyes. “This is safe?”
“She is mine. She will have my power. My protection,” Pothos said with the authority of a God, but his eyes were burning into hers instead of on the other females. They needed the trio to leave now. If anyone could calm Hroarr and assure him of her safety, it was these three. But they seemed to need convincing.
Mist spoke. “I do not believe there is a choice at this point, Gefn. I am uncertain how you both came to be here, but I believe you will need his power to return home. Even we cannot bring anyone with us when we travel here.”
They all stared at Reginleif as she spoke. “And this concentrated power should have harmed you. You are certain what you are doing is possible?”
“Spa and Velspar led me to this. And Pothos is half Thulian.”
The trio nodded together. “We will go to Hroarr at once.”
Her body ached for him. These moments felt like the longest of her life as both struggled to contain the building desire to touch, but this was important. “Tell Hroarr I am safe. That I choose Pothos. See that he returns to Thule and does not war with Pothos’ family, and you may return on the morrow. Not. Before.”
“Goddess, you may need us,” Mist argued.
“No,” Gefn said fiercely, “Spa and Velspar will know if I need you.”
The trio breathed out and nodded, knowing what she said was true.
“Now go,” she ordered.
Her skin flushed and a sharp pang hit hard enough that her vision blurred and air whooshed from her lips.
The females rushed to her.
P bit out a snarl as he lifted her into his arms. “Pain is a side effect of not finishing what we’ve started. Leave us; I will not allow her to hurt. She is mine to protect. To care for.” It was a vow. His touch alone gave her enough relief that she felt her breathing ease and tried to get him to set her down even though it felt incredible in his arms. She was a Goddess, and appearing weak was not acceptable. His lips met hers, his tongue demanding entrance until she was sighing into his mouth. She felt his arms shaking as he pulled her tighter. She moaned, setting her hands to his stubbled jaw as she lifted up to meet the kiss with equal intensity.
He broke the kiss with a harsh hiss. “Better, thea mou?”
“Yes.” She moaned with a relieved breath. She saw his hard gaze shoot to the trio of onlookers and commanded, “Go. She is safe with me.”
And they were gone in a rush of power.
They were definitely Hroarr’s priestesses. Protective, likely torn, but in the end they should have accepted Gefn’s word and known to trust that Spa and Velspar would never have led Gefn into harm.
But what had finally assured them was her male.