Page 9 of Valhalla is Full of Hunks
It would be a relief to both of us, to be honest.
Surt’s full name meant ‘swarthy one,’ and it was a fitting description. His skin was still a pale Northern tone, like mine, but the man’s thick locks and full beard were as black as his soul. While I was tall, I still blended in with the Swedes, whereas he towered over even the tallest Scandinavian, and outweighed all others in sheer muscle mass.
Coupled with his imposing appearance, his anger might have threatened a less powerful creature. Had our seer not been drugged and slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she most likely would have been afraid, but I preferred Surt like this. I bathed in the scalding glow of his rage—a reminder of how he once led us to battle with his flaming sword held aloft.
“Calm yourself,jötunn,”I teased, delighting as he growled menacingly at the reminder of his status as ‘other’—as a creature who’d originally lived beyond the realms of men and gods. I may have been half-jötunnmyself, but Loki himself had sired me. That connection alone had always made me more comfortable here on Midgard than my companion was.
Not that I’m any happier about being trapped here.
Looking the way I do…
I realized Surt was still waiting for me to explain my deviation from the plan. “She’s already familiar with our kind,” I reminded him. “So I saw no point in tempting fate by dragging out—”
“Shhh!” he hissed, his earthy brown eyes darting around as ifthe Nornsthemselves might appear to stop us.
A fair concern, considering this little morsel works for them.
I, for one, was unconcerned with incurring the wrath of the Fates or the gods, since the old ones made me their enemy the instant they bound me. Tyr—god of justice, ironically—was the first to realize the enormity of this mistake.
His right hand was a tasty appetizer.
As much as I didn’t want anyone to suffer the same fate I had, similar precautions would have to be taken with this half-mortal. We couldn’t have her escaping once she regained consciousness, or attempting to contact her friends in Greece.
Including the Kraken, who’s the entire reason we know about her existence.
Leaving Surt to his fuming, I carried Iola into what would be her room—for however long this took. Carefully laying her down on the plush, king-sized bed, I chained her tiny wrists to the headboard and stood back to admire my handiwork.
A pity we can’t make better use of these restraints…
Despite barely reaching my chest at her full height, the seer was a force to be reckoned with, and I allowed myself a moment to fully drink her in. Her olive skin, glittering brown eyes, and thick fringe of eyelashes had confirmed her Greek heritage, although the artificially bright red hair initially surprised me. These long tresses were currently splayed out over her pillow, like pooling blood, and I longed to run my fingers through the silky softness for no good fucking reason.
Since this is a hostage situation—nothing more.
Unfortunately, my cock wasn’t getting the message, as it had remained in a semi-hard state ever since I’d tracked her down at the Stockholm University library. I hadn’t allowed myself to jerk off to her memory after parting ways, but I was finding it harder and harder to resist.
It would help if she didn’t smell like a field of twinflowers in the springtime.
I’d been prepared for her presence to affect me—being a fellow immortal—but I hadn’t expected my body to react in the way it did.
As if I’ve finally sniffed out my mate.
Regardless, I was determined to not only resist biting and knotting the prophetess, but keep the urge to do so to myself. After all, my needs were inconsequential when we had larger issues to focus on. As soon as Jör arrived with Iola’s luggage, we’d lock down the island and proceed with utilizing our secret weapon against our mistaken fate.
I hadn’t been lying when I told Iola the end of days had already occurred. Odin, ruler of Asgard, had been swallowed whole by yours truly. Jör’s poison defeated Thor, and Surt had successfully burned down the worldandtaken Freyr with him. When Odin’s son, Vidar, held open my jaw to run his sword through it, I’d died painfully but peacefully—knowing my destiny was fulfilled.
So why the fuck are we still here?
When I first awoke on the battlefield to a newly reborn, post-Ragnarok world, I’d felt disoriented and confused. I was still in my true form then—a giant wolf who could devour the sun—and it didn’t take long for me to discover the equally formidable Jörmungandr and Surtr were also still alive.
Even though I watched them both fall…
We joined forces—as we had eons ago—to challenge Vidar and the rest of the remaining gods to face their destiny on the field. Instead, they chose a coward’s path, cursing us to immortal life with mortal forms, before wiping their hands of the very creatures who elevated them to the thrones of Asgard.
Now, after existing for what felt like an eternity beyond our original lifespans, inhabiting these cursed bodies had grown tiresome indeed.
Although… This formisphysically compatible with Iola...
I attempted to banish the thought. Despite how conventionally attractive my companions and I appeared,partsof us were too monstrous to allow deeper relationships with unsuspecting humans.
