Déjà Vu & Gin Page 17

I open my mouth again. Freya sends me another sharp, silencing look before turning back to Anastasia and grinning suddenly.

  “I was kidding.”

  “What?” The word explodes from Anastasia’s mouth and mine at the same time.

  The goddess rolls her eyes. “Oh for Odin’s balls, assassin, have you lost your sense of humor along with your loyalty? I wanted to make sure she was worthy of you.”

  I laugh weakly. Thank the gods.

  “You will come to Sessrúmnir when my new class is ready. But you’ll need a new blade first.” She kicks at the remnants of mine again, and a pang goes through me.

  “Yes, he will.” Anastasia’s fingers squeeze mine. “I have some stones you could work into the hilt.” She pulls a pouch from her pocket and hands it to Freya. “Please.”

  The moonstones. For my mother. She’s been carrying them all this time.

  For a moment I can’t speak. Then I turn back to Freya. “I have a request about the new blade, too.”

  She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms with a sigh. “Of course, you do. Apparently, I’m taking custom orders these days.”

  I swallow, but manage to say the words anyway. “Don’t let Loki touch it this time, all right?”

  It’s Freya’s turn to laugh. She nods once. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Then her gaze slides to the dais and her necklace lifts from the marble. In the blink of an eye, it’s fastened around her throat. The stones flash and glow in the setting sun. “I should burn your kingdom down around your ears, Vasilisa. But lucky for you, I’m feeling rather magnanimous today.” Her eyes flick to the Master of Shadows. “Though I strongly suggest this little misunderstanding be cleared up as quickly as possible.” Konstantin stiffens.

  And just like that, the goddess is gone.

  I look at Viktor trussed up on the marble floor like a turkey, then over to Konstantin and the wall of guards behind him. Then back to my woman. “What say we blow this joint? I’m a bit tired.”

  She smiles. “I thought you’d never ask. Just one thing to take care of first.”

  She lets go of my hand, gathers her skirts, walks up the dais and crouches next to Viktor.

  “I’ll release the ropes, but only if you vow to never come near me or anyone I care about ever again.”

  Viktor curses profusely, but there’s a look in his eyes as he gazes up at her. A look that makes me pity him.

  Well, almost.

  Konstantin leans close to his leader, his whisper too low for the rest of the guards to hear, though both Anastasia and I catch every word. “Give her the vow, Viktor, or I swear to all the gods above and below I will end you myself. The kingdom can’t take a fight with witches, bruins and gods.”

  The king says the words, reluctantly, bitterly, but he says them. Anastasia smiles grimly, but she’s not done yet.

  “I also want my bride price,” she says as he gets to his feet.

  “What?” He gapes at her, then glares at me. “The marriage means nothing now. You’ll have it annulled at first opportunity.”

  “Of course I will.” She lifts her chin, her voice ringing through the room with righteous fury. “But you stole my magic. You owe me recompense.”

  “Fine,” Viktor mutters, sinking into his throne. “Whatever it is, take it and be gone.”

  She leans forward, whispering something so softly I can’t catch it.

  With a curse, he yanks at a cord around his neck until it snaps before handing it to her. I stiffen, thinking it’s the Ren he poisoned her with, but though the bottles are similar in shape and size, this one is made of pure gold. And the rune is different. Ansuz. A lightning bolt in the shape of a crooked F. Odin’s rune.

  This is the fucking Eitr. The maker of gods. Konstantin gasps and I can hear the king’s teeth grinding together from here as Anastasia slips the precious vial into the pocket she took the moonstones from. I don’t really care why she wants the Eitr, I only care that she was never keeping the secret I thought she was. Watching the palace really had nothing to do with Vasilisa.

  That’s my woman. My choice.

  She turns and smiles at me. And I’m her choice.

  It’s hard to believe, but here we are.

  One thing Loki spoke true. I wanted someone to blame all these years. I needed it. Nothing is more terrifying than accepting that there is no one to blame.

  We make our own decisions. Sometimes they make a difference, and sometimes they don’t.

  And sometimes they change our whole world.

  That’s just the way it is. Madness.

  I laugh out loud.

  Yup, life is one big fucking madhouse and we’re the poor nutters locked inside. But when I’m kicking around my own little padded cell, I know who I want in there with me.

  There might even be restraints.

  Anastasia does like restraints.

  The room has gone quiet. Jett waits at the doors to the palace, her hand on her sword, Stephen at her back. In a swirl of red feathers, Anastasia spins away from the throne.

  “Wait!” Viktor falls to his knees, his words agonized. “Ana, I love you. I do.”

  Maybe it’s even true. Maybe he did love her once, but clearly whatever Viktor felt for her became twisted long ago. Obsession is not love.

  “But I never loved you. Goodbye, Viktor.” Without a backward glance, Anastasia walks down the steps and takes my arm. “Let’s go home, assassin.”

  33

  “You lied.”

  We’re in my bedroom, having left Jett and Stephen below to deal with everyone else and their questions. Tyr is sitting on the bed, letting me check his nonexistent head wound. The healing is complete. He’s shirtless, his face washed clean. I’ve never seen him look so relaxed. Contentment looks damn good on my assassin.

  “Come again?” he looks up at me, clearly puzzled.

  “You lied to me. You are so the good guy.” I clasp my hands just under my breasts and do a little swoon. “My hero.”

  He blinks, then yanks me close with a grin. “Just don’t count on me being too good.”

  “Perish the thought.” I wind my fingers in his hair, lifting his face until we’re nose to nose, his black eyes level with mine. “You are my fairy tale, Tyr,” I whisper.

  His grin widens, but his voice has gone shaky and rough. “Kind of a twisted and perverted one.”

  “It just so happens that perverted and twisted fairy tales are my favorite.”

  “Thank Christ.” In the next second, he pulls my mouth to his. Hot and wild and sweet, he kisses me senseless as his hands rip Viktor’s dress from my body.

  In seconds, I’m naked and Tyr’s on his knees, his back to the bed, looking up at me. He has feathers in his hair. With a grin, I brush them off. I swear I can feel the heat of his gaze as it trails down my body, especially when it settles right between my legs.

  “Put your foot on the bed, Anastasia,” He growls. “I want to see what’s mine.”

  With a shiver, I do as he says, leaving myself wickedly exposed to that dark gaze. His breath is hot as he leans forward and trails his lips up my thigh, the rasp of his scruff making me shudder. I grasp the bedpost in both hands as his mouth covers my center. I close my eyes, losing myself in the feel of him.

  My toes curl into the mattress as his tongue finds my clit, circling and teasing until I’m rocking my hips, begging silently for more. He has one hand on my ass, the other between my legs and when he slides a finger inside me, I start to shake. By the time he adds another, I’m whimpering, my hands twisting on the wood. Between his fingers, his mouth and that hard hand on my ass, it doesn’t take long. My muscles lock and roll, his vibrating growl of satisfaction only taking me higher.

  I break apart, falling into his arms.

  Somehow, he lifts us both onto the bed. Then his body is between my limp thighs, the slide of his cock against my hypersensitive pussy making my eyes fly open.

  That dazzling blackness is all I see as he thrusts. Blinding pleasure has m
e arching my back. I haven’t even come down yet and he’s forcing me up again, fast and hard. I’m hyperaware of everything, his hands on my skin, the rough map of each callous, the fascinating play of his body as he moves, the feel of him inside me, pushing deep.

  This man owns me and that should be terrifying. Except I own him, too.

  I roll my hips to meet his rhythm and Tyr groans. When I slide my fingers over his shoulders and rake my nails over the taut muscles there, he starts to move faster. Harder. Each thrust like a promise as our eyes meet. He comes first and I follow him.

  A long while later I open my eyes to see him looking at me, a look that shatters the last of my armor once and for all.

  A feather lands on his hand. He flicks it aside wearily. “If I never see another feather again . . .”

  I settle my head on his chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart. “You won’t.”

  “You think he’ll keep his vow then?”

  “Yes.” I lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes. “I expect he will.”

  Tyr smiles and kisses the tip of my nose.

  He leans back and closes his eyes. In under a minute, his breathing is slow and even. It takes me longer to drift away. I’m remembering the brief moment of peace I experienced in this bed, just a few months ago, and how it scared me.

  It doesn’t scare me any longer. Nothing does. With a smile all my own, I close my eyes and let the sound of Tyr’s heart sing me to sleep.

  The sun is low by the time we wake and emerge from the shower. I slip on another of Carly’s summer dresses and walk onto the balcony to escape the steam while Tyr towels off. It’s hot for Duluth, but the lake breeze is still cool on my face.

  I hear footsteps behind me, only the barest whisper against the stone.

  “I think I finally understand,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Understand what?” His arms wrap around me, his breath warm against my ear.

  “That blame is a waste of energy,” I say softly. “That the only choices that really matter are our own.”

  Tyr leans forward, his gaze following mine down to the garden where my mother’s floppy straw hat is bobbing among the roses. His arms tighten before he presses a kiss to my throat. “Go on then. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  I don’t bother to put on shoes, I just go.

  When I step outside, the grass tickles my toes. It’s probably been a couple hundred years since I’ve gone barefoot. It feels good. My footsteps slow the closer I get, but finally she’s right in front of me. Her head comes up at once.

  “Oh, Ana, how lovely you look. I think that young man must be good for you. Or good for something, anyway.” She winks at me.

  “That he is.” I smile, but it freezes on my face. “I’m sorry, Maman.”

  “Sorry?” She blinks at her roses, finally selecting a fluffy yellow one from the top, one whose tips are just brushed with pink. “For what, darling?”

  My chest tightens and my eyes sting as I toss the Eitr into her basket. “For not believing in you.”

  She sighs, not even glancing at the potion as she grasps my hands in hers. “I don’t blame you. Believing in anyone, even someone you love, is a tricky thing, isn’t it? I know you girls like to think of my power as this omnipotent thing. I used to believe that, too. But the years have certainly humbled me.”

  “You’ve done the best you could.”

  “Have I?” She gives my hands a squeeze before dropping them to pick up her basket again. “I don’t think there’s a mother alive who really believes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “You always seem so carefree. So—”

  “Absentminded? Dreamy?” Her eyes are sharp on mine before they soften and she looks away, out over the bright heads of the roses to where the lake is shining far down the hill, a silver-blue banner unfurling all the way to the darkening horizon. A storm is rolling in. “I’m always scared, Ana, scared of what I will see, what I won’t see. What I’ll miss or get wrong. It’s enough to drive anyone quite mad.”

  This time I reach for her hand and squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Maman. After everything the rest of us went through, Carly should be a breeze, right?

  She doesn’t move and I tug impatiently, only to see her looking back over her shoulder, to where those dark clouds are massing over our big lake.

  “I don’t know if I’d say a breeze.” She turns back to me, her eyes troubled. “Unless you mean a hurricane.”

  The witch of witches spawns sisters four; Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall

  Scattered like leaves, but Queens all

  To Summer the King of Winter falls,

  World destroyed, all vanquished halls

  Spring rises again, up out of his ashes,

  Her crown to take ‘ere Samhain passes.

  Then Summer sighs and fades away

  Into the darkness, the bear king to slay

  Winter sparkles, and loses her crown

  Losing her heart before Mabon sun goes down

  While Autumn falls not, rising instead

  Taking the hand of what all dread….

  Afterword

  Hey, all!

  I was so excited to finally get to write Tyr and Ana’s story, and I really hope you all enjoyed the ride. I’m already hard at work on the next (and final!) installment in the Toil & Trouble series.

  But if you’re craving even more T&T while you’re waiting for Carly’s book, you can also subscribe to my newsletter and read the monthly serial that is exclusive to subscribers. Born & Bred features werewolf alpha, Maccon Firth, along with the bruin twins, Ajax and Dominic Schade and the occasional appearance of other T&T regulars like everyone’s favorite gnome, Merry.

  If you’d like to read Born & Bred, and keep up with all the latest updates and timelines for my releases and get in on ARC lists and giveaways and read exclusive snippets of works in progress, subscribe to my newsletter, The Craic, and get all the above and more!!

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  You can also find me online at the usual suspects:

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  thoselovelyshivers@gmail.com

  Also by Heather R. Blair

  Toil & Trouble

  Sixpence & Whiskey

  Blackbirds & Bourbon

  Roses & Rye

  Threescore & Tequila

  Deja Vu & Gin

  Magpies & Moonshine

  Celtic Elementals

  Smoke In Moonlight

  Blood In Fire

  Lightning In Sea

  Phoenix Inc.

  Phoenix Rising

  Phoenix Fallen

  Phoenix Broken

  Stand Alones

  Cupid’s Bow (Coming February 2018)

  Short Story Collections and Anthologies

  Shivers

  Embraced By Darkness