Subversion, page 2
I’d met a lot of people in the millennia that I’d been alive. Some were kind. Seductive. Assholes. Killers. But most of them were content to just be. They didn’t want to grow beyond what they were on the surface.
But Dahlia was one of those rare souls who pushed so hard to be more, and who wanted to appreciate the world around her. Having her freedom taken from her for so long, when she was with TOM, seemed to amplify her desire to grow.
Sex was wonderful, but taking care of those rare individuals was important too. I grabbed her a robe when we got inside upstairs. It was too big, and the terrycloth over what little clothing remained from her dance costume made her even more appealing. She was the perfect combination of cuddly and alluring.
She was also fiddling with the ties and casting her gaze at the door every few seconds, as she inched away from it.
“I’m glad you’re here. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I said.
“It was convenient.”
I squeezed her fingers and she stepped closer. “You just happened to be in Chicago? Try again.”
“I’m safe here.” She winced as the words passed her lips on hesitation. “Aren’t I?”
Her doubt devoured me, but I understood it. She’d trusted before—the people she was raised with, who she called brother and sister—and it hadn’t ended well. “You’re always safe under my roof.” I poured the assurance into my reply. “Talk to me.”
Dahlia scrubbed her face. The woman who had been dancing on stage, the trained killer, the confident double agent… those facades were all gone. When she exhaled, the air escaped noisily through her fingers. “There’s a price on my head. And I’m meant to know it. I uncovered it in the shadows of the deep web. Magnus is off on some quest with Kirby, finding more Valkyries, and it still takes me a few days to heal from a paper cut.” She worked her jaw, then shook her head and clamped her mouth shut.
And it didn’t matter how good she was with a gun or her fists, if she went up against an immortal who could heal instantly, or teleport before an attack connected, she couldn’t fight.
I hated to see her like this. “What can I do?”
“Make me invincible?” Her laugh was strained.
“Would that I could.” My sister may think I was choosing to sit this fight out, but I was approaching it from a different direction. Someone needed to shelter the less powerful as much as others needed to confront things head on. “You’re welcome here as long as you want, though.”
Dahlia draped her arms around my neck, and the bathrobe fell open. “If you can’t give me immortality, fuck me silly so I forget for a few hours?”
A far better coping mechanism than drugs or drinking, and honestly one of my favorites.
I rested my hands on her hips, nudging the robe open wider, and glided my thumbs up her stomach. In the light, she was a stunning contradiction. The robe made her look small. Timid. But muscle, distinct definition from years of intense physical training, ran through her.
Tiny tassels swung from the barely-there covers on her nipples, and the ruffles on the ass of her briefs were playful. She studied at me with black-lined eyes through heavy lashes, her full lip brightened with violet caught between her teeth.
“You didn’t say yes.” Her voice was deceptively meek. “Do you want me to beg?”
“I might. Not yet, but the night’s still young.”
THREE
FENRIR
After I talked to Dahlia, when she arrived, I tried to force my attention back to the floor. The thoughts that had been nagging me for months surged back stronger than ever. Seeing her hadn’t helped, though it wasn’t her fault.
I’d spent lifetimes fighting wars, and it grew old. It was part of why I was here with Frey. This place was a safe haven, and the gods steered clear. I’d been happy to settle here. To stop killing except to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.
I was done with war.
Or so I’d told myself.
But the last battle I’d been in, more than a year ago now, with Kirby and Starkad, drew me sharply into my past and reminded me how much I enjoyed a real fight.
The entire affair also pointed out that hiding in the shadows wasn’t always the best option. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I wanted to join the war again. Be on the front lines. My oath to Frey wouldn’t allow that, not without his leave, and I couldn’t break that bond, but that didn’t stop my longing for a real fight.
The wolf part of me wasn’t as tame as I tried to pretend.
When she stepped onto stage with Minato, my thoughts about war and whether or not I missed it faded to the back of my mind.
This place always reeked of desire and sex, but over the years I’d learned to make both a background element.
I could never ignore Dahlia though. And watching her dance, her genuine joy and the heady scent of her arousal that rolled underneath, was an incredible sight.
The dance was familiar—Dahlia and her partner Magnus had brought it to the club a few years ago. I’d never seen anyone else perform it well, though, and I’d never seen Minato do it. There wasn’t even another girl scheduled tonight to be her partner.
It seemed odd that she’d decide last minute to make the change to her routine, especially for a complicated dance that required a skilled partner.
The dancing finished and both women left the stage. As the next routine started, I couldn’t shake the odd feeling that something wasn’t right.
I headed into the back toward the dressing rooms. As I neared the open door, movement inside caught my attention. Minato had Dahlia’s bag in hand, and was opening it. Dahlia was nowhere to be seen.
“What are you doing?” I struck a balance between a casual question and a hint of growl.
She jerked her head up, her eyes wide. “Dahlia asked me to grab her lip gloss for her.”
“Why can’t she grab it herself?” I asked. This situation was all kinds of wrong.
“She didn’t say.” Minato strolled toward me, bag in hand. “Will you give this to her when you see her?” She handed me Dahlia’s purse and her fingers brushed mine.
Blackness blanketed my mind. I blinked to shake away the nothingness. What was I doing in the dressing room? With Dahlia’s bag? I’d been here for… something.
I racked my brain, but no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t grasp how I got here from the front door. It must have been important, but no urgency tickled my senses.
The scent of Dahlia’s arousal was back, farther away than before, but not much. If I’d let my desire lead me, that must be why I was back here. I was done working for the night; I wanted to see what she was up to with Frey.
Following my nose brought me to our apartment above the club, and I pushed inside without pause.
Dahlia was sitting in Frey’s lap, her robe falling halfway down her back and his hands roaming without hesitation.
There was no jealousy at finding the two of them in the middle of a hot and heavy make out session. I’d fallen in love with a god of sex and fertility and I understood that meant he fucked around. Sometimes I joined him, and sometimes not.
With Dahlia, I was always interested. She was fun and sexy and playful. She’d also said and proved that she didn’t have a problem with making a twosome into more, or telling either or both of us no if she wasn’t in the mood.
I crossed the room in a few long strides, and drew my fingers along her bare shoulder. “Room for one more?”
“Most definitely.” Dahlia’s reply was breathy. She nipped the back of my hand.
I growled and knotted my fingers in her now-loose hair, tugged her head back, and dipped to capture her mouth and swallow her gasp. I bit at her bottom lip and lingered on her taste. When I let her go, her presence stayed with me, and I moved to crush my mouth to Frey’s.
This was the decadence of salted caramel versus the smooth heat of fine whiskey, and the two blended on my tongue and in my nostrils. I was happy to alternate my attention between Frey and Dahlia.
Before I lost myself too much, I forced a reminder through my thoughts—be careful. Dahlia was fragile, and it was best to put my mental leash on while I was still thinking clearly.
Frey nudged Dahlia back, and they both stood. He took my hand, never removing his touch from her hip. The living room disappeared and we were in the bedroom, thanks to his ability to phase from one place to another in a blink.
I smirked, letting my hunger show now that we had more room to play, and shoved Dahlia’s robe to the ground. Her pasties from the show were gone and her nipples were a tantalizing shade of pink, and still damp and swollen. Frey had been giving them the proper kind of attention.
She was still in the ruffled panties, though. Cute, to be sure, but they needed to go.
I extended enough of a claw to slide the flat surface along her hip, and she shuddered with a delightful moan. With a twist and a tug, I ripped the fabric and tossed the lingerie aside. Dahlia’s scent, her desire, was more potent now, mingling with Frey’s need and fogging my senses. I wanted to taste her.
I half lifted, half tossed Dahlia onto the bed, straddled her legs and pinned her arms over her head.
Her laugh ended in a groan as I licked along her neck, and sank my teeth lightly into her shoulder. I should take my time, teasing and kissing over her bare skin, but Frey had already started on foreplay and her musk was too strong for me to ignore.
I kissed my way down her chest and stomach, nicked my teeth over her hip, and spread her legs. Fuck, she smelled so good. I held on to enough restraint to keep my fangs from emerging, and licked up her pussy.
She tasted even better. As I devoured her juices, alternating between tongue buried inside her and gliding up to tease her clit, she ground against my face. I was vaguely aware of a naked Frey kneeling next to her on the bed, giving her breasts more attention while she stroked his cock.
Dahlia’s pulse was audible and her heavy breathing tantalizing. She gripped my hair with her free hand, holding me in place.
“Oh, fuck, please…” Dahlia’s cry cut off any other words.
“Please, what, Gorgeous?” Frey’s question was low and coaxing.
Her fingers tightened in my hair. “I don’t— More. Please?”
I didn’t have any restraint left for teasing. I dove my tongue inside her as Frey pressed his touch to her clit.
The familiar gasps and cries of her coming were a chorus to the way her body clenched around me. I licked harder, savoring her flavor and needing all of it. I pressed in until she shuddered away, and even then it was hard to stop.
Dahlia’s body sank away from me, and I forced myself to pull away.
I moved up to smash my mouth against hers, to let her taste herself on my lips, in a sloppy desperate kiss that only paused long enough for her to yank my shirt over my head. My mouth found hers again as she fumbled with my jeans.
I kicked the rest of my clothing to the ground, and my cock sprang up, wanting its own attention. “I need to fuck you.” It was hard for me to wrap my tongue around language in this state. I rolled onto my back, pulling her with me. Needing to bury my dick inside her.
Bonus to being a god—no STDs or unwanted pregnancy meant no condoms. I lifted Dahlia enough to position her over my cock, and thrust up. Fuck she was tight and slick and a perfect fit.
I glided my hands up her chest, pushing her upright and cupping her breasts. With each tweak or pinch of her nipples she gasped, and squeezed my shaft. Like my own little rubber duckie.
Frey knelt behind her, between my legs. As he dragged his fingers along her slit, he teased my skin as well. He teased her opening then slid two fingers in next to me, which felt incredible.
I moved my hands to her back and pulled her chest into mine, growling gently at the feeling of hard nipples pressing into my skin.
Frey used his touch to coax and stretch Dahlia open and spread her freely flowing juices around. When the tip of his cock pressed into the base of mine, my anticipation spiked.
He eased his dick inside Dahlia, to rest next to mine. Calling this a snug fit was an understatement, but it felt fucking incredible.
Frey reached between us to tease Dahlia’s clit as he and I built to a slow rocking rhythm inside her. The bliss on her face, the way her eyelids fluttered and her chest heaved, pushed me into my own zone of pleasure. Her breath came in short pants, and the world seemed to pause when she climaxed again.
The squeeze of her pussy around both of us was almost too much, but it was incredible at the same time. I came hard, barely aware of digging my fingers into her hips as I spilled inside her. Frey’s grunts and thrusts and the fresh slickness said he’d reached orgasm as well.
We lay in a pile in the middle of the bed, sex and sweat heavy in the air, and cut with contentment. We’d have to move soon. Clean up. Wrap ourselves around each other and see if sleep or round two came next.
But for now, this was perfection.
Electricity prickled across my skin, and the atmosphere around us changed. My thoughts flashed back to a cave from more than a year ago, where I’d fought with allies against an insane god and a dragon. My growl and teeth emerged without my permission.
Someone knocked on the front door.
FOUR
DAHLIA
The dancing and sex had done exactly what I hoped—distracted me for a few hours.
To be fair, calling the sex a distraction was an intense disservice to the moment the three of us had stolen from time. My body still hummed with pleasure, I hated that we’d all had to put some form of clothing on, and my legs were unhappy I forced them to work.
As I looked at Frey’s visitor, the petite, white-haired woman standing in his doorway, the adrenaline pumping through me now, surging in my limbs and gnawing at my thoughts with a loud run, obliterated the last few hours of calm.
Whatever I thought fear and uncertainty were when I arrived at the club, I was wrong. It didn’t matter that I’d only met this woman once before, in a bookstore of all places, or that she was shorter and slighter than I was. All that mattered was she was the face from my dreams. The nightmares filled with more death and pain and terror than the whole of TOM had ever delivered.
Fen gave her a short bow, and my world crumbled away.
“Verdandi.” His greeting was a combination of deference and disdain.
Neat trick. Not in any way reassuring.
“I prefer Artura.” Her smile was soft. Gentle. A lie. Every inch of me knew it.
Frey’s face twisted into something that looked like distaste. “Of course you do.”
Wait. Verdandi, as in, one of the sisters of fate? Urd’s sister. The creature the prophecies were named after. Yeah, the same prophecies that were the reason for me being trained to kill people like Minato.
Skuld’s sister. The asshole dragon who tried to kill my friends, because of some fucking series of fantastic stories the three told each other as bedtime stories before humanity even existed.
This woman—beast—was more than the literal stuff of my nightmares. She’d ruined dragons for me. Oh, and as far as I was concerned, shared the responsibility for the gods being at war with each other, and their drive to fulfill her prophecies and see the world destroyed in ice and flame.
“So, I’m going to leave you three to talk. I’ve got places to be.” Abu Dabi maybe. Was that far enough away? Were those rockets to into space for the typical person yet? I might not be immortal, but I sure as fuck could hack my way into the computer system that would give me a ticket to the moon, if such a thing existed. “I’ll catch you both later.”
Frey had a back door out of his place, that didn’t require me to walk past her to leave, but I couldn’t make myself turn my back on those piercing violet eyes. I really should’ve come here armed. Not that a bullet would hurt a creature like her.
“Actually, Dahlia, I’m here to see you.”
The way my name rolled off her tongue turned my gut to lead. How did she know who I was?
Artura looked up at Frey, having to tilt her head back significantly to do so. “I give you my word, I’m not here to harm her..”
He gave a short nod, stepped aside, and gestured for her to enter.
Fucking gods and their fucking assumptions of propriety. I didn’t know why she terrified me, but her presence had me wanting to crawl out of my skin to get away.
“I’m Artura. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She took a step into the apartment and moved toward me.
If she was who she said, and she seemed to be, Frey and Fen couldn’t stop her if she went full dragon. Not that either of them seemed to have any interest in doing so.
“Why are you here?” I asked, since no one else seemed interested in doing so.
Artura studied me. “To meet my niece.”
“Excuse me, what?” My question forced its way out because it was easier than letting my brain do the math about what she’d said.
The corners of her mouth tugged up. “You’re Skuld’s daughter.”
Fuck me.
Nope. Hang on. That was bullshit. “Sorry, lady. You’ve got the wrong girl.”
“You’ve been having dreams.”
And now the scary bitch was in my head? “Everyone has dreams. TV taught me if you don’t, you go crazy, and I believe everything I see on TV.” Did dragons do sarcasm? If not, would she think I was unstable and useless and leave me alone? I was really grasping for a plan here and not finding anything.
“Not those dreams.” Artura’s reply was soft. Almost sympathetic.
I wasn’t buying it.
And then she was right in front of me, with Frey and Fen still behind her. I hadn’t even blinked. My terror peaked and I swore my heart stopped. She rested her palm on my cheek.
The images that surged into my mind were like my dreams, but so much more vivid now that I was conscious. They carried smells—rain and ash and flame and the salt of the ocean. Screams of lust and terror and glee and agony. And so many emotions I choked.
