Arctic Dawn (The Norse Chronicles Book 2) (10 page)

“But—” Thorin said.

Baldur interrupted. “No buts. You must do what is best for us all. I am afraid I can no longer be trusted.”

“I have none of your knowledge or wisdom.”

“None of you have shown a lot of wisdom,” I said, sticking my nose in the middle of ancient business, “but I think I can help you with your power, at least.”

Thorin’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Open your hand.”

The look that shot across Thorin’s face indicated he wanted to balk at my order, but he swallowed his retort and did as I said. I covered his hand with mine and dropped what I had been holding with a fierce grip all that time. The warm gold shimmered to life in his palm when I pulled away. Thorin went still as golden light flickered like a firefly on his face. He glanced up at me, eyes wide, lips parted as if uttering a silent cry of surprise. The intensity of his attention pressed against me, and I fidgeted, resisting the urge to flee. Or kiss him. Anything to wipe the unsettling awe and adoration from his face.

“Does it take any magic words?” I asked.

“Magic words?” Thorin asked, his voice dry and gruff, his eyes never leaving mine.

“
Presto chango
, or something like that.”

“No.” Thorin shook his head. Then he closed his palm over the gold and twisted his wrist. In a shift too fast to comprehend, the charm disappeared, and instead he clutched a hammer, Mjölnir, in all its majesty. The chain transformed into a leather lanyard, looped around his forearm, drawing attention to the iron cuff he wore. Baldur had fashioned a set of bracelets from Thor’s legendary gauntlets, and Thorin wore them without fail, as if he’d always believed the hammer would return to him some day. And it had. The significance of that moment gave me chills.

“How did you—” he started.

I put my finger to his lips, stopping him midsentence. “Get us away from this place. Get Skyla some medical attention, and get me something to eat. Let me sleep at least twelve hours, and I swear I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Beneath my finger, Thorin’s lips spread into a genuine smile so full of sincere happiness, I almost fainted at the beauty of it—the dazzle in his eyes, the way his face brightened, the shadow of a dimple in his right cheek.
Has that always been there?
He was a god in all his wonder at that moment, and if my knees quaked and wanted to give way, much blame could be placed on exhaustion and hunger but also on pure amazement.

Chapter Eleven

O
ur ragtag group hiked across the field until we reached the shoulder of the highway. Baldur had stopped Skyla’s bleeding, but she was weak and listless, so he carried her. I recognized she needed the help, but exhaustion robbed me of the last of my gallantry. I wanted a little coddling, too. Thorin carried bucketloads of compassion for Baldur—even to his own detriment—but when I jeopardized myself to rescue them, I apparently got nothing in return.

“Thank you,” Thorin said, pulling me away from Baldur and Skyla. “I wish you wouldn’t have taken the risk—I wish you hadn’t
had
to—but thank you.”

“Are you a mind reader, too?” I asked.

Thorin chuckled. “Hardly. You wear your thoughts on your face.” He flipped his hand, and Mjölnir shrank into its golden-charm form. He took my shoulders, spun me around, pushed aside my hair, and latched the chain around my neck. “Do me a favor? Keep Mjölnir for now. Baldur knows we have it, but say nothing to anyone else, not even Skyla.”

I turned around to face him and tucked the necklace under the collar of my T-shirt. “Why? Why don’t you keep it, and why don’t you want the others to know?”

“I want you to carry it—take it as a symbol of my trust, and also because if you wear it, it’s less obvious what it is. No one expects you to have it, and it’s like hiding it in plain sight. Let it serve as a reminder that I’ll never leave you unprotected.”

While jewelry was a common token of vows and promises, nothing was common or token about Thorin giving me Mjölnir. After all that had happened in the hours since reconnecting with him in Sacramento, I was too exhausted and emotionally raw to absorb the full immensity of his gesture. Maybe later, after food, shower, and sleep, I’d be equipped for dealing with how I felt about it.

Thorin ducked his head. “It goes against my nature to be indebted, Sunshine. Tell me how I can repay you for what you’ve done.”

“You already know what I want.”

Thorin grinned. “A cheeseburger?”

“That would be a good start, but bring me Skoll’s head on a platter, and everything I’ve gone through will have been worth it.”

Thorin took my hand. He brushed his lips over my knuckles and rested our entwined hands over his heart. “For you, I swear it will be done.”

A crackling, tingling tendril of heat crawled up my arm, starting from the place where Thorin’s lips had touched me. His unexpected intimacy unsettled me, like a little earthquake straining barriers I had built to protect my vulnerabilities. I wasn’t ready to dismantle my walls yet, so I yanked my hand free, and my reaction seemed to startle him. Thorin drew himself up straight, settled back on his heels, and put on a guarded expression.

“Quit being so damned charming and reasonable,” I grumbled. “It just gets me confused.”

Thorin threw his head back and laughed, which sounded like thunder and rain, a beautiful summer storm. Another tremor shivered through me, another small crack splintering my defenses. If he kept that up, being amiable and likeable, my heart was going to be in so much trouble.

I turned away from Thorin, intending to step toward the road, but my bare foot caught something sharp and jagged, and I stumbled. Before I could cry out or try to catch myself, Thorin caught me and held me steady.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he said, “but where are your shoes? And the rest of your clothes?”

Thorin had saved my modesty too many times to count, and he had firsthand knowledge of the circumstances that cost me my clothes.

“Don’t tell me I’m making you blush,” I said.

Thorin chuckled and shook his head. “I want the full story from you, Sunshine. But later. When the timing is better for it.”

Headlights appeared on the road behind Thorin. I gasped, certain Helen’s men had found us.

Thorin tightened his grip on me when I moved to run. “I think this is our ride.”

The vague shape of a Yukon materialized around the headlights. “No way,” I said.

“Yes way,” Baldur said.

The vehicle veered onto the shoulder and braked to a stop beside us. The passenger window lowered, and Val’s grinning face greeted us. “Anyone going my way?”

Skyla raised her head from Baldur’s shoulder. Her voice came out thin and scratchy. “For the first time in my life, Wotan, I’m actually happy to see you.”

“You’re not Nina, but I’m happy to see you too, Ramirez.”

Baldur slid Skyla into the rear seat, and Thorin settled me in beside her before taking a seat next to me. Baldur joined Val in the front.

“Where to?” Val asked, his hand resting on the gearshift.

Thorin inclined his head toward me. “What is it, Sunshine? Food or sleep?”

“What about Skyla?” I asked. “We need to take her to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Val said. “Everyone knows gunshot wounds are reported to the police. We don’t need the attention.”

“And what kind of attention do you think it would draw if she died?” That sounded callous, but I would say anything if it saved my friend. “I don’t care about police reports, Val. You’re welcome to drop us off at the hospital and go if you prefer.”

“She is not going to die,” Baldur said. “I have experience in treating battle wounds as well as some healing skills. Do not worry for her, Solina. I will make certain she receives good care.”

The darkness shaded Baldur’s face, hiding his expression, but his godly essence swelled to fill the SUV’s interior. When he worked his mojo, my willpower flickered like a flame before a drafty window. The power within me, my own
otherness
, withstood his influence, but mundane humans probably caved under his persuasion.

“Fine,” I said at last. “No hospitals, but if anything happens to her, I’ll hold you all responsible.”

Val snorted, dismissing my threat. Baldur at least had the decency to nod solemnly.

“So, back to Thorin’s question,” Baldur said. “Food, bed, or bath?”

“Can’t I have them all at the same time?” I asked. The Taser assault, the dousing from the fire extinguisher and sprinklers, and our retreat into a dusty field had left me resembling something pried from the bottom of a shoe. “I want to eat a four-course meal while I sit in a bathtub full of the hottest water I can stand until I pass out.”

Val turned to look at me and cracked a sympathetic grin. “I think your food will get soggy, and sleeping in a bathtub greatly increases your chances of drowning.”

“I don’t care.”

“Laughlin’s close,” Baldur said. “There will be plenty of hotels there. If these fearless ladies are still awake after we find a room, I’ll get them something to eat even if I have to hunt it down and cook it myself.”

“Val, how did you know where to find us?” I asked.

Val tapped a finger to his temple. “We have our ways.”

“GPS,” Skyla piped up from the back seat. “They’ve all got trackers on them. I’d bet my life on it.”

“You could call it GPS if you like,” Baldur said.

I suspected it had something to do with runes. Runes tended to explain everything magical concerning the Aesir.

“Go to Laughlin,” Baldur said. “Let’s find these women a hot tub and some room service.”

Baldur put in a call on the way and reserved a suite. The city of Laughlin, he explained, was a miniature Las Vegas. When we finally stumbled into our rooms, we found a food-service cart awaiting us, and the smells wafting from it made my stomach growl.

“It’s four o’clock in the morning,” I said. “What hotel offers room service at this hour?”

“It’s a casino,” Val said. “The kitchens are open twenty-four hours a day. Gamblers have to have something to keep up their energy.”

Skyla was out cold. Baldur set her on the living-room couch, draped a blanket over her, and tended to her shoulder. Concern showed in the lines around his eyes and in the firm set of his mouth, but he poked and prodded with the clinical, detached touches of a surgeon examining a patient.

When she groaned once, Baldur clucked his tongue. “The worst will be over shortly. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll just have to grit your teeth and bear it.”

With Skyla’s care and healing entrusted to Baldur, I allowed myself a deep breath—the cleansing kind that gathered the worst of my anxiety and swept it out in a voiding exhalation. I glanced at the empty bed awaiting me in the nearest bedroom. Then my gaze slid to the piles of cold cuts and cheese on the room-service cart. Then I studied the luxurious tub peeking from the doorway of the massive bathroom down the hall.

“Don’t know where to start?” Val asked, lifting the covers off the plates of food to sniff underneath.

One plate offered strawberries and something that looked like chocolate cake if chocolate cake were made of sin. I snatched the dessert and cold cuts from the cart and scurried to the bathroom.

“Need me to wash your back?” he asked.

I answered by slamming the bathroom door shut. The compulsion to flirt must have been coded in Val’s DNA. Too bad the impulse to keep his mouth shut wasn’t. During our past few hours together, my animosity for Val had faded, but my fonder feelings for him had not returned.
Can’t we just be friends, free from awkward expectations?

While waiting for the tub to fill, I devoured the cake, shoveling chocolate sponge and fudge cream into my mouth barehanded. After licking the plate clean, I started on the cold cuts. Once the tub had filled, I turned off the water, grabbed the strawberries, and eased into the water. If only some hunky dudes had stood over me, fanning me with palm fronds, I might have called it paradise.
Maybe I can talk Thorin into accepting the job.

I relaxed against a water jet that pounded against the muscles knotted between my shoulders. The hot water soaked away my aches and pains. Between my breasts hung Mjölnir on its gold chain, heavy and comforting, and I tried not to think too hard about the impossibility of my surrogate ownership of one of the oldest and most powerful weapons of all myths and legends.
Maybe next, Zeus will ask me to hold his lightning bolts for him
.

I must have just dozed off when someone knocked on the door.

“Sunshine. Are you sleeping in the bathroom tonight?” Thorin’s voice jolted me awake.

My heart stuttered into a heavy pitter-patter. “N-no,” I said. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Using my toes like a monkey, I popped the drain open. Fatigue and overexposure to the hot water had rubberized the bones in my legs. I stumbled out of the tub and leaned against the bathroom counter as I tucked a massive bath towel around my chest. My hands trembled. Something burned in the back of my throat, and my eyes watered.

I had put my feelings aside so I could function long enough to survive. The energy required to form the fire blast that defeated Nate had drained me, destabilized my self-control, and laid bare my weaknesses. But I was finally safe, warm, and unharmed. My fire was diminished but not gone—it glowed like the coals of a banked fire inside me. Everyone had escaped Helen’s snare, and I had reunited with Skyla. She was at my side again, alive and on her way to recovery. That realization was my undoing. All my earlier fear, pain, and exhaustion tumbled loose in a tidal wave. My legs gave out, and I plopped to the floor and burst into tears.

“Solina?” Thorin so rarely used my name that hearing him say it was sobering. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I sniffed and wiped my face. A dismissal formed on my tongue, but I swallowed the urge to send Thorin away. He wanted to help.
Why not let him? Why not trust him just this little bit?
We could be…
friends
.

I cleared my throat and said, “I could use some help.”

The door cracked open, and Thorin peeked in, worry showing in his expression. He almost never revealed his softer emotions—outrage, yes, anger aplenty, but not tenderness.

“My legs are rebelling against the rest of my body,” I said and chuckled a hiccuppy laugh.

Thorin eased into the bathroom, knelt, and gathered me in his arms. My tears threatened to return, but I fought them. I could admit needing his help, but I refused to blubber. He pushed up from the floor, rising to his full height, and carried me to my room.

“You press yourself too hard,” Thorin said, though his censure lacked its usual harshness. “You have many uncanny strengths, but you are not omnipotent.”

“If I gave up when I was tired, I’d be dead.”

Thorin made a noise in his throat that might have been agreement. “Still, you should take better care of yourself.”

Thorin settled me onto a soft, flat surface—a bed, the most wonderful bed ever made.

I yawned and stretched. “I plan to, starting right now.”

Thorin stroked the gold chain around my neck, running his fingers down its length but stopping where it disappeared beneath my towel. My emotions felt like exposed nerve endings, and Thorin’s compassion was a soothing balm. I could have asked him to stay. Given another minute, I probably would have.

“Can you get me something dry to put on?” I asked instead—anything to get him away, to put some space between us.
Don’t let vulnerability confuse you
, I told myself.
The regret isn’t worth it.

Thorin pulled away and rose to his feet. “What do you want?”

“T-shirt.” I rolled onto my side, drawing my knees up to my chest.

Thorin dug through my tote bags and pulled out an old black T-shirt bearing a faded yellow Appalachian State logo. It had belonged to Mani once, but I had stolen it from his closet at home and managed to hang onto it despite everything. “Will this do?” he asked.

I motioned for him to toss it over. Thorin left me alone to change, turning out the light before he pulled the door closed. I yanked the towel off, threw it into a corner, and shrugged the soft cotton T-shirt over my head. I passed out before my head hit the pillows.

A vision of flames danced through my head, burning through rows and rows of apple trees. The heat intensified, and flames devoured the oxygen, making breathing difficult. Fire converged on the edge of the orchard and rose up in a wall before me, towering over my head. The leaves and branches closest to the flames curled into black, smoky embers. Wood smoke and the sickly scent of burning apples filled the air.

I stepped closer to the blaze—maybe I wanted to tame it—but it was too hot, even for me. The sour odor of burnt hair,
my
burnt hair, drifted in the air. Compelled by a nameless force, I tracked the inferno’s path, intent on locating the source.