Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5) Read online

  His tongue worked her incessantly, drinking up her sweetness as she shuddered against him.

  Too soon, her tremors stopped. “Enough,” she said weakly.

  No. He wasn’t finished. He couldn’t possibly take his mouth off of her now. So he kept at her with his tongue, curling his fingers down to find the sensitive pad of flesh inside her. She jerked and moaned, her muscles beginning to clench around him again.

  The second orgasm was stronger than the last. She shuddered so hard that he was afraid her bones would crack. The sounds coming from her throat were desperate and nearly crazed.

  Before the orgasm faded, he dragged his thumb through the wetness at her pussy and palmed her left ass cheek. He wanted to feel all of her. More than that, he wanted to so overwhelm her senses that she wouldn’t make him stop.

  Gently, he circled his wet thumb around the tight skin of her ass.

  She jerked and whimpered. “I haven’t ever…”

  “Let me,” he rasped against her.

  She didn’t object again past a faint whimper. He pushed against the muscle that was determined to keep him out, slowly working his thumb into the unbelievable tightness.

  She stiffened as he pushed deeper, a guttural moan emitting from her throat. She started to pull away, but he sucked her clit into his mouth. She stilled, submitting to the intrusion, shuddering occasionally. He massaged the tight ring of muscle, determined that she would like this.

  Slowly, her muscles relaxed and she pushed back against him for more. He pushed his thumb into her heat up to the final knuckle and she moaned, her muscles starting to clench again.

  He gripped her ass, leaving his thumb in place so that she could feel him there, and thrust two fingers in and out of her pussy as he sucked on her clit. It was a crowded, busy position, but from the guttural noise that escaped her throat when her pussy clenched around him, it made her lose her mind.

  She trembled and jerked so violently that he had to grip her ass hard to keep her in place. His cock throbbed unbearably as she rode the waves of her orgasm. When it finally subsided, her muscles completely gave out, no longer capable of holding her up.

  Though he wanted to give her more, to feel her and listen to her as she came, she was clearly done. Small whimpers escaped her throat as he gently slipped his fingers from her. Aftershocks shook her small frame and she looked tragically delicate.

  The painfully hard erection that he was currently grinding against the side of the bed took a backseat to concern for her. The orgasms no doubt left her drained, but the magic that left her system was probably a larger part of the reason she was so weak.

  He scooped her up in his arms and she shivered against him. Her head and palms rested against his chest. He used some of his godly powers to fill the large, old fashioned tub that sat in the bathroom. Within seconds, he was sinking into the hot water, Sylvi cradled against his chest.

  She moaned softly as it enveloped her, her muscles going even more lax against his. He cradled her head, stroking her hair and hip as even her softer shudders faded away.

  Sylvi lay in Logan’s arms in a near dream state, the warm water turning her muscles to jello. Why had she fought this? Obviously this was the best decision she’d ever made.

  Fates, she felt good. Her body hummed with pleasure. His big hands stroked her so gently now that she couldn’t believe they’d been the same hands that had pushed her past her comfort zone and made her shudder with such pleasure until her body finally quit.

  It had broken something open inside of her, shaved away her rough edges until her truth was finally revealed. It was a bad news truth. She was still at least half in love with him. It was more than just a vague she still cared for him.

  It was terrifying. He’d hurt her so badly the last time she’d fallen for him. The warm relaxation in her bones was being pushed out by chill. The sex fog in her mind was driven out by rational thought. She stiffened.

  What had she just done? It was supposed to have been just sex, but this was more than that.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was rough against her hair.

  Her torpor was nearly entirely shaken off by now, replaced by fear.

  “I can’t do this, Logan. I can’t be all normal or lovey-dovey with you. What we had is over. Ruined.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. You want me, Sylvi. I can feel it. I can see it. I’ll make you happy. I swear it.”

  She pushed out of his arms and scrambled out of the tub. Her hands trembled as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. Logan surged to his feet. Water sluiced down his broad chest and over his cut abs.

  She backed away from him as she said, “We might have been two outcasts who found each other so long ago, and it might have been good, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t meant to work. I was stupid and young and you were selfish and a jerk. I don’t want to relive that.”

  “But—”

  “No.” She slashed her hand in the air. “You know it’s true. We’ll finish this job because we have to, but that’s it. I can’t take any more pain from you. You hurt me too badly and I can’t believe you won’t do it again. After everything I sacrificed for you, you tossed me out and broke my heart!”

  “I won’t hurt you again,” he said. “I swear it.” He stepped out of the tub, heading for her.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s just not worth the risk.” She fled the bathroom.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Asgard, Home of the Norse Gods

  Late-Autumn, 1213 AD

  The wind chased Loki as he pushed his sweaty black mount harder and faster across the rolling hills of Asgard. No matter how fast he pushed the powerful beast, he couldn’t outrun the anger that shrouded him.

  Loki could feel the heat of flames at his back, released by the rage that thundered through his veins. Normally he had control of fire. Now, he had control of nothing.

  The outskirts of Aesir loomed on the horizon. Home of the bastard gods who tormented him. Home of Sigyn, the woman who called to him.

  He should turn his mount, Hyrr, around and attempt to collect himself. But he’d agreed to meet Sigyn on the hill near the great hall.

  When he crested the summit of the last hill standing between him and Sigyn, he caught sight of her golden hair and something in his chest relaxed. The anger still surrounded him like a cloying black fog, but the flames at his back died and the worst of the rage lifted from his mind.

  She waved when she saw him, her slender arm rising against the blue sky.

  Turn around. Spare her your foul mood.

  But he directed Hyrr up the last rise until he was but feet from her. He swung off the back of the black stallion and landed in front of her. Her green eyes sparkled up at him and he marveled again at how beautiful she was.

  She rose to greet him, a smile stretched across her face. Words failed him as need roared through his body. He yanked her into his arms, swooped his head down to hers. He groaned as her lips parted beneath his. She always tasted so damned sweet. So perfect. He’d never known anyone who’d made him feel like this.

  She pulled out of his arms and laid her hands upon his face. The concern in the gesture and her gaze made his chest warm as his mind rebelled at the questions that were about to spill from her lips.

  “Loki, what’s wrong?” Her brows drew together.

  “Nothing.”

  “Of course there is something wrong. What is it?”

  The familiar rage rushed to the forefront of his mind, along with the nearly tangible compulsion to exact his revenge.

  She grasped his shoulders and shook him. “I can see it in your eyes. In the way you hold me. Something is wrong! Tell me, Loki.”

  “They’ve killed Fenrir.”

  Sadness crumpling her features. “I’m sorry.”

  “I hid him in the farthest meadow from Asgard, protected by a ring of unstoppable flame. But they found him still. Baldr lead them there.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded, his chest tight at the thought of his great wolf who now resided in Hell, put there by the other gods. Fenrir was more than a wolf. He was like his child. And he’d failed him. “I fought them, but there were too many.”

  “No!” Horror flashed in her eyes. “They must be so angry!”

  Her fear of them scraped across his nerves. “They bound my aetherwalking as punishment.”

  She gasped, then her eyes narrowed on his neck. He felt the cool wind there. His cloak’s collar must have blown to the side. When she reached up to gently touch his neck, he stifled a wince at the pain.

  “What is this?” Her voice shook.

  A breath heaved out of him as his shoulders dropped. “They also hung me by the neck from Yggdrasil.”

  The memory still shook him. The enormous tree—at least a thousand feet tall—was central to Norse cosmology. It was called the world tree and connected the nine worlds of the Norse pantheon, including Asgard and Midgard, as the mortal realm was called.

  His hanging had been the first time he’d ever seen the mind-bogglingly enormous tree. It existed in a realm all its own, its power immense. His awe had been replaced by horror when the other gods had strung him up, intending to leave him there in agony for centuries.

  “How did you get free?” she asked.

  “Yggdrasil freed me. Its great branch lowered me to the ground.” It had been a journey of nearly a thousand feet. “The world tree spoke in my mind, telling me that I had work yet to do.”

  “What did it mean?”

  “I’m not sure.” But he took it as confirmation that his plan for retribution was just.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you’re thinking. You worry me!”

  He worried himself. He worried for what he must do and the consequences it would have. He wanted to resist his compulsion. For her. But he could not. He would not. “I will seek vengeance. I must put the gods in their place. They cannot take what is mine and expect to be free of the consequences.”

  Familiar rage, familiar compulsion, swept away the worry that had plagued him. This feeling was good. It was right. It would see that he did what he must, no matter the consequences to himself.

  “No!” Sigyn shook him again, no doubt sensing the direction of his thoughts. “You mustn’t seek vengeance for this! It was prophesied and it is done. It is terrible that Fenrir was killed, but to seek vengeance against all the Aesir for something that was prophesied will bring tragedy down upon your head. Upon our heads.”

  He met her eyes, then, aware of the fear within them, but not feeling it as sharply as he might have had the beast within him not been howling.

  He was Loki. He was vengeance. He was balance.

  No matter what it meant to him—to her—he must put the other gods in their place. What he planned would bring dire consequences for him, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was how he was made. It was how he was raised.

  Though not all gods were born as children—some arrived in their afterworlds in adult form as the creation of mortal belief—Loki had been born as a child. Daily, his father had impressed upon him the importance of his purpose—standing up to oppressors, being the hope of the downtrodden—and Loki had listened. This always came first—above friends, family, himself. If it made him selfish, so be it. There was no changing him.

  “I can see in your eyes that you’re going to do something rash.” Desperation laced her voice. “Please. Not yet. I understand that you must seek your vengeance. Fenrir deserves it. But bide your time. Anything bad that happens to the other gods will be laid at your door—rightfully so. Just wait until you can have your vengeance in secret. Save yourself. They’ve already taken your aetherwalking. You know that going up against all of them alone will only end in tragedy.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “If something happens to you, I will be utterly devastated. To seek vengeance now would be so selfish. You rebel against fate, Loki, but you don’t do it wisely. You are too eager to risk it all, to sacrifice not only yourself, but everyone around you. You would serve your own ends at the expense of us. At the expense of me!”

  At the sight of her face, the useless organ within his chest thundered as if it wanted to break free of the cage of his ribs. “You’re the only one who’s ever seen me as a whole person, as not just the trickster with a vital role to play in the grand scheme of the world. But I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

  “You’re like a wave that cannot stop. You hurtle forward on your path regardless of what is in front of you. Eventually, you’ll crash into the rocks and shatter. And I care for you, Loki. That would crush me as it would crush you.”

  Something is terribly wrong. The great hall loomed empty and cavernous. No sign of life except for the dogs who snored in front of the hearth. Worse, Loki had not met her at the stable an hour ago as they had planned. Never had he missed one of their daily meetings. Until today.

  Something had happened to him. It was the only explanation. Ever since their argument, he had been distant. He’d been as kind as ever, but his thoughts had been far away. She swallowed the fear that wanted to push its way out of her throat as a sob and ran from the hall.

  She had to find him. And the other gods. Oh, fates, what had they done to him? She found a quiet patch of grass and drew her staff, tried to channel her power of prophesy.

  Nothing. Of course she wasn’t calm enough. How could she ever be calm enough in the face of these fears? She opened her eyes and glanced around the dark night. A flash of movement caught her eyes. A maid running toward the great hall.

  “Bridgit!” she called. “Where is everyone?”

  The maid spun and cast a wild glance at Sigyn. “At the grove of the hot springs. Oh, my lady, it is terrible. Loki has killed Baldr.”

  Sigyn’s heart fell to her feet as fear streaked along her skin like an icy wind. She set off toward the grove, a dreadful place that she hadn’t visited in years, pushing herself until the breath sawed in and out of her lungs like fire. The slender claws of tree limbs scratched at her face as she tore through the forest.

  A crowd roared. Her fear spiked.

  Loki. No! Only one thing could get the gods so riled.

  Blood.

  She stumbled over a rock and fell to her knees. By the time she righted herself, she caught sight of bodies moving toward her through the dark forest. She scrambled back behind the trunk of a large oak and tried to stifle her heaving breaths. If they were all leaving, she didn’t want them to see her. They’d expect her to return to the hall with them. But she had to continue on toward the grove.

  Loki would be there. Seconds took hours as she waited for the procession to pass. Her mother, all the other high gods, and everyone else she’d ever known walked by. She stiffened when Freya crossed in front of her rock, praying desperately to fate not to be seen.

  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. The last of the gods had made their way past her hiding space and she didn’t have time to ponder her feelings. Not when Loki needed her.

  She pushed her way through the last of the forest until she came upon the grove. Moonlight shone down, illuminating the naked, chained form of Loki. Relief rushed over her when she saw no blood or bruises upon the broad muscles that stretched across his prone form.

  A gasp escaped her. He was beautiful. She’d never seen him unclothed before, but this was even more than she’d imagined. He lay upon a great rock, the steam of the hot springs rising behind him, his hands and feet bound.

  She had no idea why he wasn’t injured if this was his punishment for his crime against the gods, but she was too grateful to wonder why. She raced on unsteady feet toward him, stumbling when a roar rent the night.

  Loki. He had made that dreadful sound. He writhed upon the great rock, his muscles bunched with pain.

  Frantic, she glanced around for the threat. Her eyes alighted upon a great snake bound to the tree above Loki, venom dripping from its fangs onto Loki’s exposed chest. A scream escaped her as she stumbled toward him, reaching her hands out to catch the venom before it dripped on him again.

  “No!” His roar rent the night and his wild gaze met hers as a burning pain tore through her palms and streaked up her arms.

  She collapsed to her knees, the pain so fierce that it stole the breath from her lungs. Sigyn wanted to scream, to release the pain that burned her hands and arms, but nothing could escape her lips. Her eyes closed.

  Minutes or seconds later, she had no idea, she opened her eyes to see Loki staring down at her from his prison on the rock. Pain twisted his features, regret shone from his eyes.

  “Go,” he rasped, appearing exhausted from the effort of speaking instead of screaming in pain. “Go from here.”

  She pushed herself up from the dirt and leaned over him, her tears dripping onto his cheeks.

  “Go.” His voice was so rough it was almost gone.

  “Never. I’ll get you out of—”

  His roar of pain rent the night, his face twisted in anguish as his muscles bunched.

  The snake. It was dripping poison more quickly now. Her heart raced as misery and fear bombarded her. She had to catch the poison. She had to.

  It took precious seconds of concentration to draw her staff, but eventually she managed to conjure a large bowl from the rock at her feet. She thrust it beneath the poison. As the vile stuff was diverted from Loki’s flesh, his roars ceased. But his muscles remained bunched and his eyes glazed with pain.

  He breathed but he was no longer here with her. The poison had dripped onto his chest for so long that it had burned a hole to his heart. She’d experienced only the tiniest drop on her hand, yet much of his chest was eaten away. She still felt shaky and ill from the pain, as if the poison had seeped into her blood. No wonder he was unconscious. The seconds of reprieve that he’d had to tell her to leave had been the only reprieve he’d had.

  Would he ever recover?

  A drop of poison fell to the wound on his chest and sizzled. He seized. She glanced up to see that her bowl was overflowing.

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