Valkyrie Slumbering by L. VanHorn Read Free Book Online Page B

Deliciously rough, callused hands cup my face, pull me to him. His lips are so soft, the kiss almost reverent. It frightens and excites me at the same time. Before it can deepen, I draw back.
    I gesture toward the two windows in the room with a thrust of my chin. He nods and we part, each going to a window. For several heartbeats I watch the liquid darkness, searching. Nothing but rain flashes in the sky, though honestly there is so much of it coming down that it could obscure Odin himself.
    Thunder sounds again but it’s quieter than before. Moments pass before lightning flashes. It’s farther away. I watch for a few moments longer, just to be sure. Convinced the creature has moved on, I turn back to find Grím crouching before a fireplace. He is stacking bits of wood from a bin beside the hearth into the opening.
    Avoiding crumbled rock and bits of rotting furniture that give off an earthy scent, I creep over to him. I lean my head close to his.
    “Do you think that’s a good idea?” I whisper.
    His hand shakes as he reaches up to tuck a lock of wet hair behind my ear.
    “Aye, better than freezin’. That thing is gone,” he says.
    I know he’s right. Though it’s summer, the nights here are still closer to freezing than is comfortable with sopping wet clothes. And with the excitement of the flight fading, I’m starting to shiver.
    “Was that really a níðhöggr ?” I ask, speaking its name in the old tongue.
    “I think so. The real question is why is a nidhogg here? And more importantly, did Loki send it?”
    For that I have no answer, at least for most of it. 
    “Being on the same plane as Earth, I can almost see how creatures from Vanaheim, Midgard, or Jotunheim could somehow get here. But nidhoggs are from Niflheimr, not even on the same plane. How can this be?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.
    Grím shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
    Of the nine worlds, three are on the earthly planes, three on the upper planes, and three on the lower planes. My mother always taught me that it takes magic to travel from one world to another and even more powerful magic to cross planes.
    The idea that Loki himself could have sent such a creature here sends a chill shuddering through me. He would be powerful enough to do such a thing.
    Grím rises and walks over to the horses. After checking on them, he gathers both of our packs and returns to the fireplace. The drumming of the rain outside is soon accompanied by the rasp of flint and steel as he works on the fire. Soon after flames are leaping at the wood.
    Unfurling a bedroll, Grím gives me a thoughtful look. “Before ye met me, had ye ever seen a creature from one of the other worlds?” he asks, voice scarcely more than a whisper.
    I lean to help him spread out the blankets. Thanks to our treated saddlebags, they are dry for the most part. The question catches me off guard and it’s a moment before I can answer.
    “No. But what could that mean?”
    He shakes his head. From within his pack he pulls out a fur cloak and wraps it around me. It’s blessedly dry, unlike me.   
    “I don’t know. All I know right now is that we need to get warm and dry,” he says.
    Orange firelight frames his kneeling figure, revealing the lines of worry on his face.
    The distance between us is suddenly too much. We reach for one another at the same time. His arms wrap tight around me and his lips crash into mine with a fierceness that drives away the cold.
     

 

    Somehow my numb fingers make quick work of the buckles and straps of his armor, as his do mine. In moments we’re standing amidst a pile of armor and shed weapons. I pull Grím’s damp tunic from him and toss it aside. The planes of his chest and hard stomach draw my hands like a force of nature. I trace down them, fingers snagging in the thin line of hair that runs from his belly button into his waistband. A giggle bubbles over my lips. I can’t get the laces undone fast enough. Patience and restraint have fled