Broods Of Fenrir

chapter 18


Brand hadn"t been sure what to expect at Ingrid"s cabin, but the calm scene outside her cabin under the clear evening sky was certainly not it. Golden hair reflecting the rays of the setting sun, Ingrid knelt with her hands folded in her lap.

Dagny walked next to him as he approached. He stopped in front of Ingrid and glared down at her. Deciding that was the wrong tactic, he relaxed his tensed jaw.

She looked up, her face expressionless. “Brandúlfr, so pleased you could join us. I feared we might have to hold the Conclave without you.”

He struggled against his irritation, keeping his face calm.

“A difficult task, considering I am the accused.”

“Perhaps. No matter, you have graced us with your presence after all.” Her mouth twisted into a frown as she examined him. “Go into my cabin and garb yourself appropriately.”

He put a hand on the small of Dagny"s back and turned away. Ingrid coughed. “She stays here.” He didn"t bother to look back. “No.” 169

“She is the object of dispute.”

That statement drew him up short. He glared over his shoulder. “She comes with me.” Urging Dagny onward, he went into the cabin.

Dagny pointed to the stool in the center of the main room before she walked through the door leading to the bathroom. He sat with a weary sigh. The altercation with Gunni had taken more out of him than he could afford. Drained and on the edge of collapse was not the optimum way to begin the coming ordeal. He closed his eyes, intending to relax before he washed. The light brush of Dagny"s fingers on the back of his hand jolted him awake.

Worry pulled her mouth into a pinched frown. “This is a bad idea. You"re exhausted.”

He forced a smile, lifted her hand to his mouth, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “All will be well.” The lie tasted foul, doubly so because he"d spoken in Norse without realizing it.

She grimaced and twisted in his grip to take hold of his hand. A pulse of her power traveled up his arm, settled into his chest, then spread through his body. The ache that had begun at the back of his head eased at once. Her eyes took on the luster of polished steel. “Don"t lie to me.” The anger was preferable to fear, and his smile came easier. He nipped the bottom knuckle of her thumb with a gentle scrape of his teeth. “I am ever at your command.” One corner of her mouth lifted and she tilted her head.

“Eventually we"re going to get into an argument your charm won"t get you out of.”

“Not quite yet, though?” He brushed his lips over the soft skin between her thumb and index finger. “Will you help me prepare?”

“Of course.” She turned to the basin she had set on the table beside him and soaked a cloth in the steaming water.

Brand stared, watching her strong fingers wring the cloth several times. She washed his back with long, slow strokes.

Needing to feel her closer, he reached for her arms and wrapped them around his chest. Her body warmed the chil that climbed his spine to take root at the back of his head. Part of him wanted to take her and run away, to go where none of their kind could ever find them. How many would he abandon then, to a life every bit as torturous as hers had been? How many more females like Alice would be sold into slavery because he was a selfish coward?

He released her arms and stood. He stepped out of his soiled jeans and let her wash the rest of him. Afterward, she offered him the pants her mother had left for him, deer hide dyed coal black. He pulled them up his legs and tied the laces.

“She has a flare for the dramatic, your mother.” She walked around him slowly, her hand coming to rest at the small of his back. “They suit you.” His chuckle sounded strained in the still air of the cabin.

“Well, when we"re done here, I"ll make sure to take them with us so you can have more time to stare at my ass.” Her fingers trailed down along his spine and then over his right butt cheek. A smile tugged at her lips. “See that you do.”

She turned back to the table and lifted a silver armband.

Polished blue stones caught the light as she examined it. “I suppose she wants you to look regal so they will think twice about accusing you.” She fit the band around the narrow part of his biceps.

“Or she enjoys dressing me up like a doll for her own amusement.”

“Or that.” She laughed as she fit the other armband into place. “I wonder why she lives in this nasty place if she"s got stuff like this hanging around.”

Brand shrugged. He still found it odd that he knew her mother so much better than she did, but since Dagny had been raised by her sire, he"d spent much more time with Ingrid.

“Modern niceties make her nervous. She has enough money to live any way she wants.”

“And she prefers a drafty hut that smells like piss and dead rabbits?” She shook her head, while lifting a matching torc carved with angular runic symbols.

Leaning forward to let her fasten it behind his neck, he rested his hands on her hips. How many times had he sworn not to bend for a collar to be placed around his neck? For the light touch of her fingers at his nape, he would have dropped to his knees. He hoped she had no idea of the power she held.

She twisted in his grip and draped a thick, black bearskin cloak around him, fastening it at his right shoulder with a silver clasp in the shape of a sword. She examined him with a slow sweep of her eyes and her lips curled into a sultry smile. “If there is a more handsome male than you, I"ve never seen him.”

He drew her toward him, pulling her tight to his torso.

Her arms stretched around his neck as her body relaxed against him. His mouth covered hers, parting her lips. He released her from the kiss, but kept his mouth on hers, enjoying the delicious warmth of her breath against his lips. “No matter what happens, know you are adored,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and started to pull away.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to prevent her escape and captured her lips again. Her brief noise of protest was lost in his mouth. He scratched the delicate skin of her lower lip with his canines. His tongue sought the twin drops of blood that formed there. Bolstered with an infusion of her power, he wove a variation of the partnership bond.

When he was done, he released her, but kept one hand on her hip to steady her. “Gunni and Alice will pass to you should something happen to me.”

She stared up at him, confusion evident on her face.

“You can"t do that.”

He smiled. “Says who?”

She blinked, then laughed. “Well, I guess that doesn"t matter, does it?”

“Right.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let"s get this 172

over with.”

They walked out of the cabin hand in hand, proceeding around the corner to the large circle where Ingrid had tortured Brand days earlier and everything had begun.

Dagny"s gaze drifted to the post where Brand had been strapped a few days earlier. Her fingers tightened around his hand. She resisted the urge to apologize again for what had happened to him there, knowing he didn"t want to dwell on the devious agendas that had brought them together. She moved closer to him, and he smiled.

She worried for Brand. His exhaustion had progressed into dangerous territory some time ago. She felt it through their bond, like an anchor pulling at him. He stood tall, though, and walked with ease. She hoped the matter could be resolved before he collapsed.

On the ground near the center of the circle, a group of six males sat with their legs crossed under them. They were all garbed similar to Brand. She recognized only two of them—

Ansvarr and Erik.

Her eyes were drawn to Ansvarr. When she had been sent to him, she had rejoiced at first. Among the females of her sire"s brood, he was well known for his stunning good looks and fighting prowess. Physically, he was perfect, the very image of a finely-wrought statue with masculine features, chiseled muscles, and golden hair. Her impression of him changed when she discovered what a monster he really was.

The grimace Ansvarr wore marred his handsome face.

His black eyes bored into her with unfiltered hatred. She let her gaze pass over the rest of them. Erik appeared calm, splayed hands resting on his knees. The other males in the arc fit somewhere between the two in terms of expressions and body language.

Ingrid stood ten feet in front of the males, but faced 173

Brand. Dagny had no idea what to expect. She"d never been present at such an occasion; females weren"t generally allowed.

An exception was made for Ingrid because she was acknowledged as the arbiter of brood law. How she"d gotten that title was a secret she"d never shared, but Dagny assumed she held some advantage over the powerful males seated behind her.

Brand stopped before crossing the boundary. He turned to face her, showing her a warm, boyish smile no one else ever saw. Her heart sped up. Before she knew what she was doing, she was pressed against him and pulling his head down. He let her steal the kiss, chuckling against her mouth. When she pulled back, he sauntered away, leaving her staring after him at the edge of the circle.

Dagny walked around the outside and eased herself to the ground where she could see Brand"s face.

“Kneel, Brandúlfr Geirson,” Ingrid said in a haughty tone. He stopped in front of her and made a show of surveying the males behind her. “I will not kneel before you or them, so you may as well get on with it.” Ingrid frowned and put her hands on her hips. “You stand twice accused, and the Conclave has been called. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What is it that I am accused of?”

Ingrid gestured over her shoulder toward Ansvarr.

“Ansvarr, Earl of the city of Vancouver, accuses you of stealing his mate.”

Brand gave Ansvarr a hard stare. “My brother lies.” His voice betrayed his disdain.

Ansvarr jumped to his feet but, before he could attack, Ingrid lifted her hand. “The accuser will remain seated.” A harsh growl came from him, but Ansvarr dropped back to the ground. Brand spared Ansvarr a quick, contemptuous glance before he returned his attention to Ingrid. “Dagny Hilsdóttir 174

came to me unmated.”

Ansvarr shouted from his position, “That is a technicality. She was promised to me in exchange for a treaty. I demand her return.”

Brand"s gaze didn"t waver from Ingrid. “Respected Arbiter, that treaty took place over twenty years ago. If he meant to take her as his mate, then he should have done long since.” His eyes turned to Dagny. “Returning her will be impossible, because now she is my mate.” Ingrid"s mouth dropped open. That they"d managed to do what her mother hadn"t predicted filled Dagny with satisfaction.

Ansvarr surged to his feet again and bolted toward Dagny. Despite the jolt of panic that shot through her, she remained still. Perhaps it was naive, but she needed to prove she wasn"t afraid of him any longer.

Brand intercepted him before he reached her. He tripped Ansvarr to the ground and drove a knee into the middle of his back. She exhaled the breath she"d been holding and clasped her hands together.

Ingrid motioned to one of the other males. He gave her a baleful look before rising and walking to where Brand and Ansvarr struggled on the ground. He wrestled with Brand to unseat him, then pulled Ansvarr back to his feet.

Ansvarr snarled as the other male dragged him away and back toward his position. “The Black Wolf is too cowardly to fight me? You killed our sire with his own sword, and you won"t stoop to fight me?”

Teeth bared, Brand took a step toward his slowly retreating rival. “I"ll fight you, no matter what decision is reached. I just wanted it known that you were unable to claim the female I"ve taken as my mate.” His lips lifted into a predatory grin.

The largest of the males snickered. With a mane of red-gold hair falling around him, his similarity to Bera was striking and he could only be Björnkarl. The bass rumble of his voice 175

filled the clearing. “Is that your complaint, Spearson? Your brother took the bitch you couldn"t mount?” Ansvarr rounded on him. “Stay out of this, old man.”

“Watch your tone with me, pup.” Björn"s eyes darkened to black in the space of a heartbeat, all luster fading from them.

“You"re the one who insisted on putting this to our decision when it is clearly a private matter.” As he resumed his seat, Ansvarr glared at those around him, but said no more. The male who had retrieved him took his seat as well. A general resettling occurred throughout the line, some of the males casting sidelong looks at Ansvarr.

Brand returned to his previous position. Satisfaction trickled from him through their bond, along with a sense of anticipation, as if Brand couldn"t wait to get his hands on Ansvarr again. Dagny admitted a certain amount of excitement to see that herself. She knew it was barbaric, but the idea that Brand would fight for her pleased her.

Ingrid took control of the group again after several moments of silence. “May I then assume, Björnkarl, that your vote is against punishment?”

Björn leveled an annoyed gaze at Ingrid. “Put another word in my mouth, and you"ll regret it, bitch.” He waited until her neck bent in acquiescence. “My vote is neutral. I care not at all for their family squabble. The matter should be settled between them, not brought before us.” Aside from the one seated directly beside Ansvarr, all of the males cast their vote agreeing with Björn"s assessment.

Ansvarr"s irritation increased with each vote.

Ingrid turned to face Ansvarr. “Your claim is denied.” He lifted his face to regard her with a hateful glare.

“You purposefully chose this Conclave to support the outcome you wanted.”

“The only male I chose was Erik, and that was merely convenience because of his proximity. If you would have preferred to wait a week to find another earl who would travel here, you should have stated such. Magnús came with you.

Agmundr and Haukr both came with Björnkarl.” With each name she recited, she pointed to one of the males before her.

“I suggest if you have an issue, you take it up with the senior member of this Conclave.” She turned her head to Björn and offered him a respectful nod, which he didn"t return.

Dagny wondered at her mother"s behavior. Was Ingrid pointing out the allegiance of each male so Brand would know?

She dismissed the thought after brief consideration. Her mother was nothing if not vain; she craved the attention and was making the most of it with grandiose gestures.

Ansvarr"s balled fists shook where they rested on his tense thighs. He bounced to his feet once more. “I challenge him as the King of the Broods of Fenrir.” Dagny stared. Brand wasn"t the king. Could he really be challenged as if he were? Brand watched his brother with an unwavering gaze and a wry twist to his mouth.

Ingrid didn"t look at all surprised by the development and turned to Björn. “You have a complaint yet to be considered. Do you wish it to take precedence?” Björn looked between Brand and Ansvarr several times, and then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “My matter will wait until the challenge is answered. Could be that afterward it will be moot.”

Brand spoke before Ingrid had returned her attention to him. “On the condition that my mate is not a spoil in this challenge.”

Ingrid considered the request briefly. “Done.” Ansvarr looked as though he might protest, but Brand prevented it with his reply.

“Accepted,” he snarled, glaring at Ansvarr. He stalked back to Dagny, slid the cloak from his shoulders, and handed it to her. She clutched the cloak to her chest and stared at up at him, fear welling up inside her.

A smile brushed the corner of his mouth. “You don"t really think he can beat me, do you?” Remembering that he could feel her worry, she 177

swallowed past the panic that had worked into her throat. After she made sure no one was near enough to overhear, she whispered, “You"re exhausted. He"s supposed to be one of the best fighters alive.”

“Only because he"s never fought anyone like me.” His grin grew rakish in the dying light. “Fear not, bunny.” When she drew an indignant breath, she realized he had provoked her intentionally. She hoped her glare was more ferocious than it felt. “Ass.”

“Glad to be of service.” He stepped closer to her and pressed a kiss against her forehead while slipping his arms around her waist. “I feel the touch of your mother"s hand in this challenge.”

“You aren"t alone.” She spotted her mother walking toward them, two sheathed short swords in her arms. “Speak of the troll, and she arrives.”

With a snort, Ingrid said, “I"ve always thought myself more of a giantess than a troll.”

Brand turned to regard Ingrid, but kept his arms around Dagny. “Your duplicity would melt Loki"s icy heart.” Anger gave his voice a rough edge. “You could whelp a brood of your own and manipulate them.” He eyed the blades she held with interest, though.

“Your grandsire"s blades.” She held them tighter against her chest. “Perhaps I should offer them to your brother instead. He might be more appreciative.” Brand looked at the blades and frowned. He reached for one leather-covered grip, pulled the sword partway from the scabbard, and examined the sharpened edges. Pushing the sword home, he glared at Ingrid. “Why do you have these?”

“That is not your concern.” She made to hand the swords to him, but he didn"t move to take them.

Instead, he swiveled his gaze to Dagny. He waited with a neutral expression. She had no idea what he wanted from her as his blue eyes swept slowly over her face.

When the delay had lengthened to an uncomfortable 178

duration, Ingrid cleared her throat. “Take your lord"s weapons.

He"ll accept them from no hands but yours.” Dagny reached for the bundle, but paused when she noticed her mother"s irritated posture. More was going on than she understood. She took the swords without speaking, their heavy bulk weighing down her arms.

Ingrid turned a glare on Brand, who ignored her utterly.

“You have twenty minutes to prepare,” she said, before she stormed away.