Addictive Nightshade (11 page)

Chapter 15

Emma:

Roused from my trance I'm lifted out of the shower, the water stilled, my arms pushed into toweling, the black gown secured snug to my waist, taken to his bed, laid out on it with a stern face staring over mine, arms braced in bulging tension either side of me. He's pulled jeans on I note.

“You need more l
æraðr. This self-pity is unnatural and poison to you.”

Sullen, I simply stare back. I'm in no mood to diagnose the depths of my failings.

Exasperation flitters briefly before the
jötunn removes his threatening incarceration from my sides to make the all too familiar sounds of gold juice being poured.

“
Come on Em, sit up and drink.”

Whatever.

Grumpy, seething, I do as he orders, taking the drink in the same sized quartz tulip he uses. I have to use both hands.

How do I know this isn't some kind of mind altering drug they use to make victims complacent?

It's still a powerful potion, immediately injecting fever into lame muscles, rekindling the fire in my soul, imbuing my courage with the strength to meet his accusing gaze with my own.

He smiles, knowingly. Patting my leg he reseats himself for more comfort, slipping a hand behind his back, “I have a gift for you.”

Arching both eyebrows I petulantly remain silent, unwilling to see how flexible my principles are, or exposing them for his perverse amusement again.

What an ego trip it must be to be so strong and invincible. Tall, graceful, sexy, good looking, he's got it all. Women must make complete idiots of themselves around him. I'm just one more arrow on the chain of humiliation.

Glowering now I watch as he presents me with an amber hued crystal full of jagged edges. It's big enough to fill his hands.

“
That's like your bedside lamp,” I comment, wondering why he's giving me a stupid night light.

“
It's a love crystal, Emma.” Resting it precariously in his left palm he uses the right to rub my leg in patronizing affection, “Elskling you need proof. Words aren't enough for you. I'm not going to fuck you to prove your worth because degrading the weak isn't my M.O.... this is.”

He holds the crystal up between us. It's a rock really, a big see through rock. “It's activated by love. The crystal will glow until that love ceases. You need tangible proof I mean what I say, well here it is... I love you.”

As Macala says the words the crystal balanced on his valhalla sigil begins to shine with such brilliance I have to narrow my eyelids to filter out the glare.

“
Take it, it's yours. It's a promise from me to you. When you doubt my words all you need do is check your love crystal and you'll know what's hidden in the depths of my spirit. Only love activates these stones, without love it cannot glow, and as long as I am bound by my emotional attachment to you this baby will light up your darkest corners of doubt.”

And just like that the walls of pride come smashing down. I'm either horrifically easy to manipulate or I'm crushing badly for this romantic sap.

I can't take it because I'm still employing both hands for my supernatural imbibing. Moisture prickles my corneas and I search his lensed eyes, peering into the shroud of black ringed in the orange inferno of the mighty, “You love me?”

His Adam's apple dips and bobs, nodding in his stead as honesty forces tension into the atmosphere, “Yes.”

It's curt, tight, awkward.

“
For real?” I pry, sitting up properly to relinquish my drink to the shelf on the bedside table, curiously placing my hands on the crystal still between his.

The illumination increases to such a degree I have to look away, now sun blind in the natural dimness of the cave.

“And you love me.” Mac sounds half surprised and partially delighted by his statement.

“
Yeah?” I snap, looking back at him. “How would you know?”

“
The love crystal quadrupled luminosity when you touched it. Bonding with us both, it's now radiating with the love in two hearts locked by the same goal. It betrays your secrets better than the Book.” Settling the stone down on the bed he reclaims the hold on my leg, squeezing it until the sensation is uncomfortable. “How can you love me? I've had months to fall in love with you but you've only just met me.”

I shrug, my temerity blanched after the recent rejection, I am unwilling to incriminate myself further by giving such new and vibrant emotion voice.

“Em,” he whispers intimately, stooping his height to examine my eyes, “it's because I love you that I didn't … you know.”

“
No Mac, I don't know. It was obvious to me that we were both naked and willing, and you just snapped the umbilical cord because of your stupid pride and adherence to archaic perceptions of right and wrong.”

“
You're stung.” It's a shocked inhalation as he sits upright and squares his shoulders, only serving to make him even more irresistible.

His naked chest is fucking glorious and it felt so good resting my head on it to listen to his heart. It's an aphrodisiac which enslaved me the second he lulled me to sleep in his arms when he stole through the forest. It's home. The mental confession scares me because I loathe needing anyone.

But I need you, properly, without reservation. I'm stuck in hinterlands until I'm anchored in stability, and you're not offering a shred of stability.

Analytical reasoning lifts a cobra hood over our precious moment to sway in vindictive jealousy. “Who gave you your crystal?”

Am I a fucking consolation prize in this equation?

“
My mother.”

Oh! Shame comes back strong to paint my cheeks in betraying heat.

Chuckling under his breath he leans over, crushing me in a bear hug and kissing the top of my head, “Little angel you are a wreck. If I'd known respecting you would leave you so unstable I'd have screwed your bones into the bathroom floor and just put you out of the misery you're determined to suffer in.”

“
Too little too late,” I grumble. “Friend or foe, pick one.”

Releasing me he stands, staring down at me looking utterly flabbergasted. “How can you even ask that?”

“You took me from my life, brought me here, subjected me to ludicrous dogma, cocktease me within an inch of my life... what exactly is your agenda? My mind can't take anymore fucking!”

Pouncing off the bed I stomp right up to the unnaturally tall man and blast both hands into his chest with all the ire I can muster, “I'm not a conquest! I'm not a game! I've had enough!”

Storm calm he snares my hands against his torso, pressing them with such harshness I fear my bones are being flattened. It's electric, the tension, as if lightning is about to strike out of the shadows.

The shadows! Ohmigod.

They're racing at us, billowing atramentous miasma to obscure the cavern in midnight fog, locking us in the eye of his silently violent anger.

“
Mac?” I panic, ineffectually trying to snatch my hands back, watching the shadows deaden to such an evil black it's scaring the toenails off me.

They swirl, opening a channel to a lone rock shining through the dark apparitions, glimmering hope and haven in a declaration so silent he's shouting it at me in a vacuum.

The crystal throbs brightly, announcing his heartfelt emotion  - love. He put his heart on the line, buried pride, and I freaked out like a typical bitch.

We have nothing but emotion guiding our way. Logic is faulty, hearts are truth.

“We belong to the light, Emma. We belong to the dark. I'm sorry I hurt you but I swear on my honor that I am noble in my intentions. I'm not a human wanker. I'm not going to fuck you at the first available opportunity, and if that's all you think you deserve then feel free to go back to the society you pretended to shun. Maybe I misjudged your devotion to the Fallen Fraternity. You gave me false hope.”

The char grilled mist descends, blocking my vision of everything in choking black, my hands released, my senses dulled with the pain in his tone and the chastising guilt swallowing me as surely as the mist-ery.

He's gone.

I'm alone in his piceous tempest, I pushed too hard, I snapped, I'm... I need therapy is what I need. I've got issues and I need a man who is willing to be normal, not take the little normal I have and upend it to see how much of me falls out.

Closing my eyes, gripping my triangle to my heart, I wish with all my might for sanity, for reprieve, for mercy, for forgiveness.

“
Emma!” It's so close and loud I jump, squealing.

Flicking my eyes open, looking all around, I can't see a damn thing because the black fog is whiter than bright, impenetrable and thick, cloying and multiplying cloud faster than cotton candy.

“What the hell is going on!” I screech in alarm.

I reach through the powdery brume, smacking something solid.

A hand clutches mine, lifting to lips, kissing my fingers, the valhalla triangle belonging to the hand pulsating through the milky cloud, bleeding red through it.

Stepping right up to me so I can see him, he crouches to my level, looking at me eye to eye with our noses touching, “You did this. I should have known.”

“Very funny Mac! Now make it go away.”

“
I can't, your power did this, not mine. You must dismiss the ether, not me.”

“
Dismiss the ether? Har har, very funny. For the record this is scaring the heck out of me so quit bullying!”

His sigh disturbs and agitates the wafting brilliance dancing condensation between us, adhering to his black eyelashes with specks of white.

“Whatever you did, do it again, just wishing it would vanish. Release your hold and free it,” he instructs patiently.

Frustrated and more than a little overwhelmed I shout at the choking oppression, “Go away!”

It gyrates in such frenzy I'm losing orientation.

“
Give me your left hand,” orders the man I can't see, yet again.

Waving my hand in his vague direction it's caught, our palms locked together, the furnace of his sigil burning into mine, bubbling my blood, screaming lust out of my lungs, hoarsely grating pain in molten agony, and I'm on my knees, prostrate and broken by the man with all the fucking power.

This repetition is getting old.

I'm electrocuted, my body spasming in vicious bone jarring shakes. Knocking my forehead on the floor I curl into myself, shattered, sobbing. My hand is released.

I can't... do... this... any... longer.

I can't.

Wailing my anguish I scream hysterically when he tries to touch me, folding in so tightly to my knees I block the oxygen flow to my head.

It makes the pain stop. My blood throbs. My ears pound. Apoplexy licks my neck and stomps my awareness into the dust coating my lips.

Chapter 16

Emma:

Humming pisses on my sanity and I snap my eyes open to tell Mac to go back to hell when the hoary man watching me clams my mouth shut and bombs my world with panic.

Inclining his head at me his long silver hair falls forward, his face surprisingly gentle, his eyes two glowing orbs of magnificence. I'm ready to have another aneurism.

“I am Kake, and you are Emma.”

It's a statement.

Or maybe it was a rhetorical question... or–

“
You need space away from Macala, he is pressing all the wrong stimulants in your body, so for now you will be in my care,” he continues.

“
Uhm...” my voice is a hiss, rasping in devilish atrophy.

“
Do not speak, you screamed loud enough to bring this mountain down. We all heard you bellowing hysterically for him not to touch you, and you have my word that I will personally ensure he does no such thing.”

He gestures to the tall glass of water next to my chair.

Darting my paranoid focus back and forth I decide to not watch him and grab the water. Lord knows I'm thirstier than Mojave soil.

“
I am the chief of the Raven clan. Macala is my grandson and third in command. I apologize for his lack of compassion, I thought he was up to the task.”

“
What task?” I manage to scrape through my raw throat.

Surveying me from my naked feet to the puffy black gown Mac wrapped me in, I'm suddenly aware that I must look a complete mess.

“Opening your mind to the truth. Your father was Lars, his dormant genes within you are now wakened with the libation of Valhalla. But today you exhibited the antithesis of a Raven. You exposed your owl heritage, Emma. What most folks forget about Skadi is that she was both commander of the dark
and
owner of the light. You do not command shadows, you do not call darkness down to shroud you, instead you call on the clouds of Asgard. You are a white shadow, destined for the land of eternal sun, where white shadows command and protect.”

“
Tell me about my father,” I insist, really not giving a flying fart about the rest of their mythology.

“
It is not mythology, Emma. Look at my eyes, I see everything. Speak out of turn again and I will escort you to the door and out of my hospitality. Show me the respect as the one man who can turn your night into everlasting hell, or turn your day into light so bright it'll burn the eyes out of your head. Don't disrespect my heritage because of your ignorance.”

Jeez!

“Right, thanks for the drink. Where's the way out?”

He laughs at me. It's so hearty and exuberant it's messing with my stubborn shield.

“Aaah, now I see Macala's challenge. Good for you Emma.”

“
Whatever,” I grumble, already standing, looking for the exit.

“
Emma, sit down.”

And just like that my legs fold and plop me right back in the chair I was in. “Hey!”

“Stop being a fool. You are willing to challenge me? Are you sure?”

“
Burn my eyes out, what the fuck do I care? I'm not afraid of you or your magic!”

A voice clears a throat and the shadows fall away from the wall, exposing Mac inside his camouflage. “Emma please, stop being so angry.”

I lift up my palm and jut my hand at him, “You did this! I hate it! It's horrid and you … you... you damn man!”

Kake sits down opposite me, chuckling, his amusement pretty obvious, “Aah, lust and love are a torturous cocktail. You want him but don't. You love him but wish you didn't. You need him and that scares the sense out of you. Now I see the dilemma here.”

“When I need a shrink I'll find my own, thanks,” I snap sarcastically.

“
Pain is such a familiar bulwark isn't it? You pretend to be brave and fearless when inside all you are is afraid, there's nothing else in there. That's why love scares the heck out of you. You don't know what to do with it because for you it's unpredictable.”

I open my mouth to tell him to keep his pseudo-psycho snark to himself when he holds up his hand, staying me.

“You will hear me out little raven. You will not interrupt when a sage offers you pearls of wisdom with insolent belligerence.”

That does it. I refuse to have a man tell me what to do again. I am not a child no matter how old he is, I'm an adult with my own car, my own money, my own home. 

Read my lips Kake, I don't need this
shit
!

Turning his back on me, exposing the back of his head which is surprisingly covered in long ebony dark straight hair, he says to Mac, “Go. When she's over her issues I'll review the situation.”

“No!” he shouts at the old man. “I will not just abandon her. She's got my mark on her hand, she's
my
responsibility!”

“
Well she doesn't want you anywhere near her, Macala. Do not unleash what you don't understand and what she clearly can't yet control.”

“
Exactly! She pulled down bright mist instead of shadows. It scared the fuck out of her and when I helped her to release it, it frightened her. She's just in shock, come on Afi, let me help her. I'm the only one here who understands her,” pleads Mac.

“
If you understood her this wouldn't have happened. My decision is final grandson, go help in the kitchens or something, make yourself useful–”

“
But eagle is coming! We don't have time!”

“
Do I strike you as a novice? I will choose another to train her until she has forgiven you.”

And with that poisoning the air in his elaborate cave, the old guy points at the tunnel leading away from his chambers, “Out.”

I can see his eyes shining a glow of warning at Mac, and now I'm second guessing the wisdom of clashing wills with him.

Mac stalks past me, his expression a dark brooding sufferance, glancing at me once on his way out, the look saturated with recrimination.

My heart sinks, my fight dissipating. I hurt him. This should be
our
business to slug out between us in private, not made a public affair where the judge and jury executes us for having a disagreement.

Okay, maybe I overreacted, but when he took my hand and blasted that energy up my arm it napalmed my heart, and it freaking hurt! My reaction was justified. But now that he's gone and I'm alone with Sir Strange I feel too vulnerable. I'm a foreigner in my own home.

*

Macala:

I gave her my eiðr and now Kake has stolen her right out from under my nose. What the hell is he thinking?

I am her friend and guardian, we have handfasted, and yet he undermines
me as if I am still a sveinn, pulling rank and royally screwing me over.

Fucking fabulous move.

Why the hell did she freak out so bad? One second the world is our pillow and the next she's all PMS over my show of respect. Why must life always be one long vig?

I am still young enough to blend into society, I'm the one they rely on for reconnaissance, I'm the one they send for supplies because I still look very human, I'm her only ally who she can relate to as familiar and they strip her of me? I understand modern lingo and slang, it's as much a part of me as it is her, and now they're going to send her into a mental spiral she's in no way prepared to handle.

Kake is an idiot! This disrespect is outrageous.

Stalking to the Book, I have to read what was going on in her head so I can understand and don't make the same mistake twice.

Arghin is walking the other way, to Kake's caverns. “Where are you going?” I ask when we're close enough.

“
Kake wants to see me.”

“
Why?” I demand, fury igniting my veins.

“
Dunno. I'll let you know when I do.”

Gripping his arm I drop my voice to confidential, “If he asks you to train Emma, say yes. I can at least trust you.”

He nods, giving me an odd look.

I watch him go, bitterness mangling my innards. Shaking off anger I storm to the study to flip through the pages.

Some of them are thick and sturdy parchment, yet other pages are fragile as onion skins, delicate as rice paper. It took me awhile to realize the old souls are the ones worn thin, the resilient pages belonging to younger Ravens.

Finding hers I lean on my elbows, reading.

It doesn't take long before I'm using the heel of my palm to pound my forehead in agitation.

Fuck! I should have known this, I should have
felt
it.

The second we clasped hands and she willingly accepted the dominion of
my
valhalla mark, the bond was forged. Prior to this she found me intriguing and I appealed to her lust, but infatuation was eradicated with the handfasting, replacing it with the kindling of a forge. The loyal until death and beyond kind.

Scanning feverishly I read her words as she thought them.

You don't get it, Mac! My own mother rejected me, dad vanished and never came back, Guy ran away with Des, the wound is still there, a weal so sore it has yet to heal despite the burgeoning of emotions I have... and then you suck me into your gravity just to change the polarity when I get a taste of what I'm craving. You rejected me! I can't take another rejection, fuck it, I'd rather be alone than play this demented game of masochistic 'love'.

It wasn't what I needed, I don't need the orgasm Mac, what I needed was you validating me as the special entity you proclaim I am.

Boosting off the table I need to punch the shit out of something for being such a class A idiot. She loves me more than even she can admit for it to hurt her like that. Love is a commodity she's seen perverted, one with an agenda when mine has none. Shit!

I just wanted to show you that you're more precious than Skadi. To me you already are half my soul, my future, my forever-after in the halls of Asgard. I've yearned, I know your patterns, I know your routines, I know your likes and dislikes, and now I pretty much know what you're feeling and thinking. I've had moons to fall stupidly in awe of you and now you're becoming jötunn and it's sexy as all hell. I want to, of course I want to, I just stupidly, in vile error, thought you needed a little bit of coddling. I thought you deserved the fucking romance! I erroneously presumed to think you needed to know what it's like to be a man's lady instead of his convenience.

But you don't want the romance, you just want me.

Fuck!

Walking through the doors to the forest I punch the first tree I reach, splitting the wood in an unholy pop, the drawn out creak as the trunk peels and the top half falls to bow under the assault instantly makes me guilty.

Shaking off regret I lose the human form, adopting the freedom of wings and Raven sharp eyesight, flapping hard to gain altitude, flying off the rage.

*

Emma
:

“I've called for Arghin. You at least know him. He'll take you to sort out your chambers and take over your training,” says Kake, interrupting my reverie.

Speak of the devil, here is the dude with the freaky eye and Viking outerwear now.

I half listen while Arghin gets his orders, the whole time I'm watching that Odin eye. It occurs belatedly that none of them can lie. They can never tell a half truth because that eye reveals the truth constantly. What they feel, see, think, it's exposed. No hidden agenda, no way to hide hurt or fake bravado. And I have the cheek to feel vulnerable?

Mac... damn it! I'm sorry! I know you told the truth now, I know you can't lie if it could save the world from doom, because if anything you are a race of folk who live and die with nothing but truth on your faces, in your eyes. The window to your soul never disrespected me. If anything when I looked in your eyes I saw gentle caring, understanding, compassion.... desire.

My eyes are filling with tears when Arghin helps me out of my chair, marching me in the guise of disapproval to my own rooms. Right next door to Mac, and three millions light years apart.