Broods Of Fenrir

chapter 19


Dagny looked down at the pair of short swords in her arms and then up at her mother"s swiftly retreating back. “What just happened?”

“Your mother attempted to take an honor that"s yours.

You don"t know the traditions, and she tried to take advantage.”

She met his eyes. Something about his remote expression chilled her. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I"ve never drawn these blades. They need to be prepared.” He maintained the calm expression. “There"s a stream a hundred paces behind you. The old blood must be washed away with running water.”

She"d seen the blade he had bared. There was no blood; the cleansing was symbolic. She turned to comply, but he stopped her.

His fingers stroked the inside of her forearm. He bent to deliver a lingering kiss. “Hurry, love,” he whispered against her mouth.

She ran in the direction he"d indicated, hearing the burbling sound before the water came into view. Unsheathing 181

one blade, she dunked it into the icy water and counted to twenty. After it had soaked, she extracted it and rested the cold sword across her lap. With the edge of her shirt, Dagny lovingly dried the weapon and returned it to its scabbard. She repeated the process with the second. Her teeth chattered as she ran back to where Brand waited.

He took the blades from her with a formal bow, thanking her in Norse. She frowned. If anything, he felt wearier than he had before. Echoes of his pain radiated through her skull. She stood in front of him, holding his face in her hands.

“Brand, you can"t fight like this.”

He sheathed both of the weapons. “I"ll be fine, sweet.” He took her hand. “Your mother, maddening though she is, is clever. This is probably one of the best outcomes.”

“I don"t call fighting when you haven"t slept in almost a week and can hardly stand a good outcome.”

“On his best day, Ansvarr has small enough chance to beat me, but today he has none.” He curled an arm around her back and pulled her against his side. “I have too much to fight for.” She looked into his face. Resolve drew the muscles of his jaw tight. Despite the fact that she could feel the weariness and pain weighing him down, she believed him. She pushed the fear away. “Kiss me.”

The subtle change in his face wasn"t so much a smile as an acknowledgement. “As my lady commands.” He lowered his head to take her mouth, gripping the nape of her neck in one strong hand. She grabbed his arm and pulled herself up on her toes to meet him.

His kiss was an act of possession, bold and unrepentant.

The growl rumbling up his throat and the scratch of his teeth sent a shudder of delight along her spine. Her wolf surged forward, answering his call.

When he released her, the wolf whimpered. The profound loss of sensation made her throat ache. She stared up into his luminous blue eyes, wondering how she would manage 182

to survive if she never saw the dangerous heat there again.

“Take care of her, little wolf.” On the edge of control, his voice was nearly a snarl. He bent to run his teeth along the edge of her jaw, making a satisfied grunt when her head tipped back. Her knees gave way, and he lowered her to the ground, the gentle movement at odds with the fierce power radiating from him.

Brand found it difficult to leave her as she stared up at him with those huge silver eyes. She looked so frail with her lips parted and cheeks flushed, though he knew she was not.

He drew his knuckles down the side of her neck in a final caress, pausing where his mark stood out against her pale skin.

The beat of her pulse sped up under his hand. He showed her the smile he knew she loved, and then cleared his face of all expression before moving away from her.

He was keenly aware of the eyes on the two of them.

Most of the public display had been for their benefit, though kissing Dagny was a reward in itself. Her wolf had submitted with eye-catching grace, and not a male around them had missed the show.

Ansvarr almost quivered with irritation. The well-respected males he had thought allies would jeer at him in private. No matter what happened here, his reputation was ruined. That Ansvarr"s reign would be short-lived if he managed to kill Brand was cold comfort.

Brand harbored more doubts about the coming challenge than he had let Dagny see. He hid the apprehension he felt—along with the guilt for keeping it from her—so that she wouldn"t worry. The concentration required to maintain the deception was an additional drain that he couldn"t really afford, but when she was afraid, he had trouble thinking clearly.

Pulling both blades from their scabbards, he hefted the weight of them. They were fine weapons. He stretched one 183

group of muscles at a time, feeling his back and legs warm. The ache crawled its way into his head again.

Looking at neither participant, Ingrid stood in the center of the circle. When the twenty minutes elapsed, she raised her arms to gesture them forward. “It is time.” Sizing up Ansvarr as he strode forward, Brand walked to where Ingrid stood. His brother swung the huge sword that had belonged to their sire, a weapon Brand would recognize until his dying day. Brand shifted his gaze to Ingrid. She"d given his brother that sword; he was sure of it. Did she have any idea how much advantage she"d given Brand?

A broadsword was slower, the arc of attack much longer. Ansvarr had let his emotions get the best of him with that choice and displayed his inexperience in real combat for all to see. Brand was fast and fought well with either hand. A large, heavy sword was the wrong weapon against an opponent like him.

Ingrid held out a hand to him. Brand drove the point of the blade in his right hand into the ground near her foot before placing his fist in her upturned palm. Head bent, she dropped into a deep curtsey. Her lips pressed to his knuckles. Silver eyes shone when she lifted her gaze. “My king.” Her breath tickled his skin.

He ignored the urge to tear his hand from her grip and offered a respectful nod. “Arbiter.”

“A challenge brings you before me. How do you answer?”

“Bring it.”

She frowned at his informal confirmation, but held out her left hand for Ansvarr. His brother came forward and placed his right fist in her hand. “Earl, your challenge is acknowledged.”

She lifted both their hands. “You meet here, embraced by the moon. Fight well.” She brought their hands together, knuckles touching, and then dropped her arms. “Begin when I clear the circle.” She turned and stepped toward the edge of the 184

ring with a steady gait.

Ansvarr"s lips pulled back into a sneer. “I"m going to carve you up, brother. Then, I"m going to go over there and f*ck that bitch of yours until she screams.” Brand laughed. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ingrid cross the perimeter of the circle. “I don"t think you have enough men here. Last time, it took half your brood to hold her down for you. Isn"t that right?” Ansvarr yelled and lunged, sword swinging from his left hand. Brand pulled the other blade out of the ground as he dodged the blow. With his left hand, he struck Ansvarr below the shoulder blade with the pommel of his sword.

Ansvarr careened forward, off balance. He caught himself on one hand before his face hit the dirty snow. With a graceful jump Brand had to admire, he rose to his feet.

Brand circled him, analyzing how his opponent moved.

It was clear Ansvarr had trained with their sire and had taken little time learning other methods. His choice of blade made some sense; Geir had fought with the finesse of a wild boar crashing through the underbrush.

Ansvarr rushed him again, sword raised. That was the opportunity Brand had been waiting for. He lunged aside, scoring a line along his brother"s ribs with his left-hand blade as he pivoted. Ansvarr hissed, but didn"t appear hindered by the scratch. Brand had used the move as a gauge of his brother"s speed and reaction time, nothing more. Allowing himself a taunting grin, he continued to circle in a slow arc.

Ansvarr feinted right with the sword and came at Brand"s face with his left fist. Brand parried the punch, leaving a shallow slice on his brother"s forearm with the outside edge of his blade.

He was better and much faster but, unfortunately, his fatigue put him at a disadvantage. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled or miscalculated. The faster fighter 185

generally let the slower one exhaust himself before moving inside the deadly range of the larger weapon, but Brand didn"t have the luxury of time.

He parried aside Ansvarr"s next slash, but instead of pivoting away, he turned toward his brother"s body and struck with his right hand. Ansvarr anticipated and dodged left, catching a glancing blow across Brand"s face with his elbow as he swung his sword back. Brand danced back before the sword could slash him in the belly.

Dagny"s sudden panic tightened his throat. A tide of rage swept through him. He clenched his teeth, fighting the desire to make sure she was safe. Ansvarr came at him again.

He easily ducked under the sloppy overhand slash and scored the back of his brother"s arm.

Brand pivoted around, sparing Dagny a glance to confirm she was all right. Why was she so afraid? He hadn"t taken a scratch, and wasn"t likely to if she could rein in her blasted fear so he could…

Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

He dodged another strike from Ansvarr. The blade parted air inches from his sternum as he turned his head toward the source of the distraction. One of Björn"s lackeys had risen from his place to stand behind Erik.

Erik"s eyes were still fixed on the fight within the circle, but his hand had shifted to rest on his calf above his boot. That his friend was aware of the imminent danger reassured him, though Dagny"s anxiety still piqued his emotions. A part of his mind churned, thinking about what Björn had planned for the conclusion of the contest.

His brother charged again, poised for a sidearm slash.

Brand anticipated the movement and parried. Too late, he realized that Ansvarr"s other hand had drawn a knife and made an underhand jab to his ribs. The knife cut deep, but didn"t hit anything vital. The pain served to return his focus to the battle.

Though he outclassed Ansvarr by a fair margin, he couldn"t afford to dismiss his brother entirely as a threat.

He pressed the attack for the first time, slashing with both hands as he advanced. Ansvarr backed away, and Brand spun. He opened a wound across his brother"s chest with a well-timed slice in the opposite direction. After two more of his strikes were parried, he backed off, wary of exhausting himself.

As he"d hoped, Ansvarr leapt forward into his retreat.

Brand ducked the overhand smash and drove his shoulder into his brother"s gut. He rolled out of the way, slicing into the thigh of Ansvarr"s leading leg with his right-hand blade. That wound was deep and drew a hoarse shout from his brother.

Brand panted with effort, his breath coming in halting gasps. The chill of true fatigue settled into his legs. Pain stiffened his lower back. He concentrated on dodging for the next several attacks, slowing his reactions so he barely cleared each thrust. His strength wasn"t returning as fast as he"d hoped, and with resignation, he made the decision not to wait longer.

On the next strike, he used his elbow to deflect the blow and stepped into Ansvarr"s guard, ramming the left-hand sword into his belly. His brother gasped and froze with an open-mouthed expression of horror. Releasing his hold on the sword lodged in his brother"s gut, he reached to pry his sire"s blade from the swiftly weakening grip.

He leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “That was for me. This is for Dagny.” He shoved his right-hand blade into the center of his brother"s chest with a satisfied growl.

In his bloodlust, he"d forgotten about the other threats, but Dagny"s urgent shout reminded him. Even as he turned to make sure she was safe, a fist jabbed him in the side, shooting pain up along his ribs. He twisted away from the blow and made a quick scan of his surroundings.

Two males backed Erik away from the circle at knifepoint. Another held Ingrid pinned against the ground amid her flailing and cursing. The one who"d hit him followed his retreat warily, directing him toward… what?

He stole a glance over his shoulder and managed to dodge Björn"s mighty blow aimed at the back of his head. He 187

turned to keep both his assailants in his field of vision and saw Dagny. She"d advanced toward him when she saw him in danger, and a male had veered to intercept her. He heard another coming up behind him.

F*ck. How many were there? He"d been a fool to think Björn would wait to collect his vengeance.

Fatigue pulled at his limbs, making Brand feel sluggish.

He ducked under an attempt to grab him. Gripping the attacker"s arm, he twisted it around behind the male until the elbow and shoulder snapped. Ignoring the pain-wracked wail, Brand used him as a shield to put off the approaching combatants.

Björn glanced around, appraising the situation much as Brand just had. He returned his black gaze to Brand after a few seconds. “Give yourself up, and none of these whom you care about have to die.”

Dagny struggled behind him. The offer was tempting, but he knew Björn wouldn"t keep his word. A more likely outcome was that Brand would be tied and made to watch as he gutted them one at a time. With a shake of his head, he said,

“I could make you the same offer. Fari is alive. I can see that he"s returned to you unharmed.”

Björn snorted. “I have ten more like him, maybe more.

They all pale in comparison to Arn. You"ll pay with your life for what you took from me.”

He hadn"t really thought that reasoning would work, so he tried a threat instead. “This won"t make you king. Ingrid will denounce you for daring to have your thugs lay hands on her.”

“I have no interest in being king. In fact, I think we"re better off without one. Each earl can do what he likes in his region, as it should be. I"ll deal with Ingrid personally.” A leering grin spread over his wide face. “Your bitch, too.” He inclined his head, and the male at his side lurched toward Brand. Anger became a tight knot in Brand"s chest as he bent to pull the sword from Ansvarr"s gut. With a snarl, he shoved 188

the male he had been holding into the one who was closing in on him, then impaled them both through the center of mass.

He tugged the blade free as he pushed them away. The one closer to him wouldn"t be getting up, but he"d barely poked the one behind—that one would be back to bother him later.

He risked another quick look around. Ingrid lay unconscious on the ground. The male who"d been working her over went to help the one who remained fighting Erik. Dagny had held off the male who had approached her without breaking a sweat and managed to pin him down in an armlock.

One of the males in front of him lunged. He sidestepped the attack, but Björn came forward quicker than Brand had thought he could move. His line of escape was abruptly cut off, and he ran headlong into Björn with a teeth-jarring impact. The sledgehammer head-sized fist crashed into his face before Brand could put up a guard. Dazed, Brand crumpled to the ground.

One of the males pressed a knee into Brand"s spine and held him down with a hand on the back of his neck. The first few kicks to his sides hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut against the impacts of boots hitting him in an uneven rhythm.

Brand lay on his stomach, unable to move as Björn kicked him repeatedly. He felt the breaking of his ribs in a remote way, knowing there should be pain, but feeling none.

The pressure on his lungs grew steadily. He floated in a strange state somewhere between full awareness and unconsciousness where everything seemed slow and muted.

Dagny"s shriek drew his attention, but only because he felt her fury and frustration hot enough to burn him. His head turned too slowly, panning his field of vision an inch at a time until he saw her. She was beauty made flesh.

She had run toward him when he fell, and two of Björn"s cronies blocked her path. Drawing his knife from where she had hidden it behind her back, she dispatched one before he even knew he was in trouble. After a quick cut across the carotid, she shoved him to the ground, where he flailed 189

helplessly.

Unfortunately, she had lost the element of surprise with the second attacker, and he was much larger. Angry though she was, she chose caution. She circled around him, lips drawn back. The attacker said something to her that Brand couldn"t hear, and she laughed. With a feint worthy of a prizefighter, she drew him toward her and cut him across the chest. He backpedaled with an astonished expression that made Brand want to grin.

She fought with the savage grace of a lioness. He knew as he watched her that his first impression of her had been correct. She was everything beautiful and right with their kind.

He blinked in an attempt to stave off the relentless pull of unconsciousness so he could watch her for a few more seconds.

Björn rolled him onto his back with a humorless chuckle. He pulled a knife from his belt and drove it into Brand"s chest. Strangely, he felt no pain, only a spreading wetness that he knew to be his blood pouring out of him.

Frustration boiled inside, but he had nothing left. He couldn"t even draw another breath. He waited for death to take him and hoped that Dagny would be all right.

Alice had never been the strongest, but she"d always been fast. When she"d felt Brand"s pain, she left Gunni behind with a speedy dash. She could feel her mate coming up behind her, worried for her. They"d parked his car on the main road and approached on foot because they hadn"t wanted anyone to know they were there.

As she"d pulled ahead, he called to her, but she couldn"t listen. So much pain… she knew something was wrong. She sprinted around Ingrid"s cabin and saw Brand lying motionless with Björn looming over him.

Blood soaked the ground. A knife stuck out from 190

Brand"s chest. Though she knew he still lived because she could feel him through the brood bond, she wouldn"t have been able to tell by looking at him. She processed all of that in the seconds it took her to cover the distance and leap on Björn"s back.

He was a huge male, and she was little more than an inconvenience for him. Twisting back and forth with freakish strength, he knocked her free. She landed on the ground with a thump that drove the air from her. He lifted her by the throat with one hand, his fingers digging into her skin.

She kicked at him, but he barely seemed to notice. She clawed at his hand, but his iron grip didn"t slip. She reached for his face to scratch at his eyes, but he held her further away. His black eyes stared into her face, and he laughed.

Bountiful Wolf-Mother, she was a fool. What did she think she was going to accomplish? She struggled like a child in his grasp. Unable to help Brand at all, she was going to die inches from him.

Darkness crept into her vision, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of consciousness. She still fought, though she knew it was pointless.

Brand"s heart stuttered. She felt it from her scalp to the soles of her feet. If she"d had any air available to her, she would have let out a whimper. His life slipped away, bit by bit, as he bled out onto the cold ground.

A scream ripped through the night air. Without question, she knew who the voice belonged to because she felt the enraged Call that came with it. Dagny.

Alice gave in to the anguished rage of the Calling without hesitation. Her body writhed, completely out of her control. The world came into sharper focus. Her skin prickled.

She felt no pain as her body began the swift transformation Dagny demanded.

The hand at her throat slipped. She fell from Björn"s grip and landed on her four paws.

She launched herself at him. Her jaw clamped over his 191

face. His right eye ruptured under her sharp canine, and he screamed. Blood poured into her mouth. Her muscles shook with the infusion of power beyond anything she"d ever felt. He pushed at her, but she tightened her bite.

Björn screamed in pain and frustration. He flailed and punched, but he couldn"t dislodge her. Her lips pulled back into a satisfied grin. The male had spawned the demon who"d given her two hundred years of nightmares. She would kill him. She bit down harder and felt the bones of his cheek and nose give way. Disorientation jolted her as he fell backward. When he landed, the impact jarred every bone in her skull, but still she kept her bite locked.

So enthralled with the feeling of victory that overcame her, she ignored Gunni"s shouts. She"d felt him approaching and was happy that he"d seen her fell the giant of a male alone.

After a few seconds, she realized that something was wrong because he felt very afraid.

She rolled her eyes toward where Gunni stood and a bright sense of happiness filled her. The thrill was short-lived, because terror twisted his face.

Björn shifted under her and pain punched through the adrenaline rush as something sliced into her belly. She struggled to maintain her grip and an agonized howl ripped from her throat as he continued to rend her flesh. Björn drew his last breath, shuddering as he exhaled. He went motionless beneath her as Gunni knelt next to them.

She released her bite and allowed Gunni to pull her into his lap with hands that shook. The pain had faded quickly, but she felt cold. Her medical training told her neither was a good sign. Gunni examined her wounds, but soon abandoned that in favor of embracing her. He buried his face in her neck, sobbing into her fur. She whined softly.

She wasn"t as scared as she thought she would be with her death looming over her. With Gunni"s strong arms around her, she felt loved and content as never before in her life.

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she only wished she could tell him how much she loved him.

Face pressed to her ear, he said, “I know, Baby. I love you, too.” The pain in his voice broke her heart.

Inhaling one last time, she howled. She sang of love and friendship with thoughts of Gunni and Brand. Gunni joined an instant later, his deep tones beautiful in the darkening night.

The echoes of his howls chased her as she ran to the moon with joy in her heart.