Mallory held me at arm’s length. “If you need any disgusting coconut-seaweed water, you know where to find me.”
Laughter bubbled in my throat. It almost overpowered my fear of moving to a house I’d never seen, with four guys—four immortals—I’d only known a few days, to train to fight a monster who’d put my mom into a seventeen-year coma, and, more recently, put a hit on me.
Almost. But not quite.
CHAPTER SIX
SNOW DUSTED THE HIGHWAY as we drove north out of Skykomish, toward the Canadian border. We were packed tight in the SUV—I was wedged in the backseat between Bodie and Johann, who apparently liked hockey, and spent a good hour of our trip debating the Canucks’ Stanley Cup chances. By the time we crossed the border and drove into Vancouver, they’d vetted the likelihood of multiple Pacific Division teams making it to the finals, complained about the preferential screen time given to Eastern Conference teams, and decided that if we made it through this Nott drama, they’d invest in season tickets to whichever team we ended up living by.
“Aren’t we going back to Washington when this is over?” I asked. “I have to finish school.”
“You might choose to do that,” Tore said from the front seat. His long hair moved against his shoulder as he turned his head to check for cross traffic. “Or you may want to permanently relocate here.”
“Relocate to Canada?” I’d never considered that.
Tore smiled at me in the rearview mirror. “Or Asgard. You can go wherever you want when this is over, Allie. In your case, the sky is literally the limit.”
Whoa. That was a lot to digest.
Tore steered the car up a snow-covered drive. White-dusted evergreens lined the path, and the full moon illuminated the mountain range in the background. There were no streetlights in this part of town, if it was even a town at all. From what I could gather, the guys were taking me straight into the middle of a forest. We drove for what seemed like ages before a soft glow appeared in the distance.
“Is that your safe house?” I craned my neck from the backseat.
“Yup,” Johann confirmed. Tore pulled the Range Rover to a stop, and the guys piled out. Tore held out his arm to help me down, and as I rested my fingertips in his palm, a warm pulse shot to my heart center. I ripped my hand from his the second my feet touched the ground.
“Thanks,” I said, unsure of how to read him.
“Welcome,” he muttered. Then he tilted his head. “Velkommen to the safe house.”
I tried not to gape as I looked up. The massive cabin was framed by a thick forest and bathed in the moonlight. It had a vast, wraparound porch, complete with a swing and bright porchlights that illuminated the snowy driveway. The structure had two stories and at least one chimney, and had a secondary building near the back that seemed to be the Canadian version of the complex.
Maybe this relocation wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
****
After three weeks of living in the safe house, I was singing Canada’s praises. Moose, Mounties, seemingly-primeval forests, maple syrup on everything, those tiny donut holes, and the amazingly congenial atmosphere of the locals I’d met on that one trip the guys had let me take into town—everything about Canada was civilized, and dignified, and . . . and magical. I loved it. My training regimen . . . not so much love. Every morning started with a huge breakfast with the guys—that part was awesome because it involved copious amounts of both American and Canadian bacon. Then we transitioned straight into four hours of weight training before breaking for a protein-packed lunch. According to my protectors, I was too skinny to take on a mentally unbalanced night goddess. They acknowledged that my failure to meet Asgardian weight goals was not my fault, since I’d spent eighteen years eating and exercising like a human, but they insisted I’d need to reprogram my metabolism to meet demigod standards. Apparently, my existing mass was insufficient to fight off a night elf, or a dark elf, or, god forbid, something called a fire giant. So ‘bulk Allie up’ became the house mantra, at least for the first few weeks. We needed to start tracking down the pieces of my weapon so we could take down Nott and wake up my mom, but the boys vowed to pack ten more pounds of muscle on me before we headed to Alfheim. Apparently, Mack’s home realm would be the first stop on the weapon-locator-tour, since it was the one we’d be least likely to get killed in. It sounded better than one of the dark realms, but I was still nervous.
Johann, Bodie, and I had a nice Thanksgiving together eating an insane amount of store-bought turkey, while Mack went home to Alfheim to be with his family, and Tore headed back and forth to Asgard on some kind of 'business.’ When we were all together again, my days dragged on with hours beyond hours of weapons control. After dinner, Tore and I would head to the complex alone. Those evening sessions were private tutorials; time for Tore to teach me how to shut down my energy centers so I wouldn’t be trackable. They were a total nightmare at first. Tore started out by laying his hands on different parts of my body, thinking I needed a physical trigger to learn how to lock in the energy coming from wherever he touched. Initially, the only physical trigger I got from Tore’s hands was of the hormonal variety, and I spent two straight evenings trying to hide my obvious attraction. By night three, I caught the demigod smirking at my overheated cheeks as he placed his hands atop my stomach. I quickly realized he could read exactly what I was feeling, and he was taking an ungentlemanly amount of amusement from my inappropriate thoughts. That knowledge was all it took for me to figure out how to shield myself. After that, Tore only needed to intend his energy brush against mine, and as soon as I sensed it, I shut down my centers and became an energetic black hole. Rule number one of tutorial time: the most effective teaching tool is an intense desire to keep your tutor in the dark about how badly you want to jump him.
We worked that way for a week, and Tore never spoke again about the guilt he felt at having my weapon stolen on his watch. But I could sense that he was opening up to me. Slowly.
One mid-December morning, I worked my way through Mack’s staple breakfast of bacon and eggs and mentally prepared for a morning of getting my butt handed to me by my protectors. But instead of ordering me to the complex, Tore took me by surprise.
“Hey, Pepper, I’m going for a hike. I can show you some scouting techniques if you want to come.” Tore looked entirely too inviting in a beanie and hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets, just waiting for me to answer. I’d come to terms with my crush on the irritatingly hot demi. Apparently, complicated bad boys with daddy issues were just my type. Awesome.
“I’ll go. But only if you let me show you how to spray an attacker.” I tapped my new, glittery pink can of pepper spray—a gag gift from Bodie.