She stood taller than most females of her species and possessed wide hips and immense teats, which she pushed out proudly when she talked with her hands on her hips.
I would soon find out that she had an over prideful stance and an obstinate mouth, but it would change nothing about my response to her.
My male works descended. Immediately. For her. And for the time I was with her, the itch…the pain. It stopped.
Even more shocking, she had touched me most intimately, for what had turned out to be a trick on her part. A ruse meant to distract me, while her sister absconded with my prisoner.
Ola had also gotten away that night. But the damage she’d done had been catastrophic for reasons beyond my interrupted torture of the Betrayer King.
The night pain was back. And what had started out as a faint itch has morphed into a clawing need I can no longer ignore. Since her departure, I haven’t been able to rest properly, and I can barely think, much less focus on my ultimate plan of revenge against her fathers.
The dogs who murdered my father.
I shift my thrall’s eyes and watch them, standing near the front of the stage with their mate. By anthrohominid standards, the warriors are much older than when we first met underneath that purple sky. And they’re now wearing formal suits, instead of handsewn outfits made of hides. But my flame still blazes red with rage at the very sight of them.
This would have been the perfect occasion to strike them down. I could have set their entire pack on fire around them. Made them watch their mate die upon the oldest brother’s sword, exactly as my father did. I think of the surprise bit of intel I received regarding the Betrayer King’s location. Also, of the polar bear tooth, currently sitting in a glass display case inside the library of my Greek isle estate. A totem of the lengths I would go to in order to exact my revenge.
But I might not ever break the glass on that display case. I won’t be burning this kingdom house to the ground or acting on that intel. At least not any time soon.
Because of Ola.
My need for her—it has been nothing short of debilitating. Instead of plotting the final steps of my revenge over the last months, thoughts of laying claim to my enemies’ daughter have consumed my attention.
How many nights had I lain awake back in Greece, my male works, pressing against my stomach? The sweet pain of wanting her had been so excruciating, I often had to unshell and swim laps around my isle until I could fall into an exhausted sleep at the bottom of the Aegean Sea. Ever since our first meeting, she has been my last thought before I sleep and my first upon waking. An absolute distraction from my most important goals.
As if to punctuate my point, the phone, sitting on the middle seat armrest lights up. Like this car, the smartphone is vintage. A rather rudimentary communication instrument, dating back to the time before biosystems and comm rings became popular, rendering physical devices like phones and computers obsolete. But this is my chosen method of communication, as I refuse to allow the upright primate’s still inferior technology into my head.
A typed message from Ao Quong, our mission’s original Lead Field Engineer, appears on the screen. Phase 1 is complete. When shall we begin the trials for our too long delayed trip?
His question feels like a repudiation.
I have spent centuries biding my time and planning another trip through the fating portal. Yet now all those plans are as the cattle would say, “up in the air.” And now here I am. Lurking in the shadows of my she-wolf’s coronation instead of plotting how to kill her entire family with the utmost suffering.
Impatience and frustration course through me, bouncing off the walls of my shell. No, I cannot allow this she-wolf to stand between me and my ultimate goals. She has been my sole obsession for months on end.
And that needs to stop.
That must stop.
Now.
Leaving the message unanswered, I close my eyes and god speak the thrall I am using to watch her. Bring her to me, I command into his mind.
Then I tell Colby, the latest in my generational line of human servants dating back to the middle ages, to drive to our next destination. I do not bother to await an answer from the thrall currently watching Ola inside the mansion. I know he will do as commanded, just as surely as I know the newly crowned Queen of North Dakota belongs to me.
Whether she knows it yet or not.
Tonight I will stake my claim.
Chapter Three
Viking Age Norway
FENRIS
The air stilled in his chest when he awoke to the familiar sight of his mate asleep beside him that morn.