Page 69 of Fenrir
Fenrir and Loki approached the edge of the trees, and several houses came into view.
As he raced around the side of one of the houses, a brilliant white light flashed ahead, pushing him and Loki backward. Fenrir tumbled away and slammed into a tree. Dazed, he rolled back to his feet and started forward again. Despite the flash of light diminishing, it was as if a giant hand pressed against him, keeping him back. He pushed against the invisible opposition and moved forward, following his bond with Grace. Nothing would keep him from his mate. Nothing.
Loki grabbed onto Fenrir’s shoulder as he, too, moved forward. “You owe me a beer after this.”
Fenrir growled, and together, they made it to the edge of the house and then little by little, the resistance eased, and by the time he saw Grace, the barrier was gone altogether.
Four men, three young and one older, stood several feet from Grace, who knelt on the ground, her arms and legs covered in white fur, dirt, and blood.
Fenrir growled, and all eyes moved to him.
Grace looked up, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Thick blood dripped down her torso, mingled with black ooze. Silver poison.
“Fenrir,” she whispered. She tried getting to her feet, but her legs trembled, and she dropped back to the ground.
Fenrir sprinted forward. A foot from her, one of the men stepped in his path, but with a swipe of his paw, Fenrir knocked the man away and sent him flying through the front door of a house.
Fenrir scooped Grace into his arms. She clung to him with her good arm, and her claws dug into his fur.
“I knew you’d come. I knew you’d find me.” She buried her face into his chest, and Fenrir nuzzled her head, allowing their connection to flow through him.
He’d found her. She was alive. She was safe. She was his.
Grace’s father moved a fraction, but before he could do anything, Loki appeared behind him and held a glowing blade to his throat.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Loki announced.
Grace’s father growled, making Loki chuckle.
“Let me rephrase; I wouldn’t do that unless you want my son to rip you limb from limb. Which I can’t promise he won’t do anyway. You know how wolves can be about their mates. And my son has waited a thousand years to find his.”
Fenrir looked up at Grace’s father. His ineffectual alpha gaze glared down at Fenrir. It was strange. If Fenrir had seen the man on the street, he wouldn’t have given him a second glance. He wasn’t large. He wasn’t imposing. His aura wasn’t even relatively strong. So what was it about him that had caused so many women to sleep with him and give him children? Not only the scents of each male but the resemblance to Grace had told him immediately that they were related to her. But it was more than evident that the resemblance between these males and Grace was DNA based only.
Fenrir kissed the top of Grace’s head and stood. He walked toward the men and circled them as Loki stepped away. He sniffed them each in turn and growled when he got to the last.
“You touched my mate.” Without another word, Fenrir raked his claws across the man’s throat, and the male dropped to his knees, coughing and choking on his own blood before it painted the ground.
One of the other males snarled and turned on Fenrir. Fenrir killed him as well without another thought.
“Stop!” Grace’s father ordered.
Fenrir rounded the man and loomed over him as every instinct told him to disembowel the man in front of his two remaining sons.
“Do you know who I am?” Fenrir demanded.
Grace’s father looked up at him but didn’t speak.
“I am Fenrir Loki’s son. Norse god of the wolves.”
Her father shrugged. “I’m not Norse.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you are Norse, American, or Korean,” said Loki. “We no longer discriminate.”
Fenrir’s hands clenched and unclenched. He wanted to wipe the smug look off the man forever. But he had to hold back. This was no mere shifter or mortal alpha. He was Grace’s father. Whatever was done next had to be her decision.
Fenrir turned to Grace, who propped herself up against a large boulder.
“What do you want?” he growled.