Page 44 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“I know,” she sighed. “The entire multiverse is aware of how selfish and narrowminded you are.”

His smile morphed into a scowl. “I don’t much like your tone. I need to talk with my daughter about what she has been teaching you. Now.” He waved his hand at Cyran. “How about we ditch the dead guy and go home?”

Her grip on Cyran tightened as a tremendous force tried to pull him away. She glared at Loki, focusing on holding her elf to her. “Leave him alone,grandfather,” she bit out, each word an effort. Her gaze dropped back to Cyran, his skin almost transparent.

She pressed her fingers against the carotid artery on the side of his neck, praying for a pulse, but found nothing. “You have no fight with him. He has done nothing to you, but Ineedhim to be okay.” Her chin shook as she stared down at Cyran’s pale face, the pain in her chest agony. Desperation forced her hand—she couldnotlose him.

Her hand smoothed the hair from his brow as the truth of her words hit her. She loved this annoying, prickly elf more than she had ever loved anyone and had no clue what to do about it. “I realize you don't understand what I’m feeling or even what true love is, but I would give my life for his.”

“Have you told him this?”

She shook her head, his beautiful face blurring as tears filled her eyes. “No.”

“Well, that’s a relief. For a moment, I thought you were lost. I still have time to convince you that love isn’t anything like the stories. There is no happily ever after.”

She caressed Cyran’s cheek, her thumb moving back and forth, his skin silky smooth and unlike her father’s. Of course, her father had been covered in hair from head to foot, cursed in the form of a wolf most of her life, so she did not consider that a great comparison. “I will do anything you ask of me, just save him.”

Raising her tear-stained face to Loki, she exhaled, trying to calm the hard tremors inside her body, unwilling to think about the alternative. “Please.” She dropped her gaze to Cyran’s lifeless face.

“Youreallywant this? You realize a relationship with an elf like him will likely not last. He will leave you, and you will pine away into a shell of the female you once were.”

She scowled. “You have no idea what you are talking about. You said it yourself. You have no understanding of love or relationships. Everyone in the Nine Worlds realizes who you are and that you are untrustworthy. I don’t think taking your advice would be very intelligent. Besides, you don’t even know Cyran.”

Loki shrugged. “I don’t have to. He’s several thousand years old, if not older, and unmarried. He probably doesn’t have a woman since he is traveling with you. For someone that old to not be married, it tells me he doesn’t want to be involved with anyone, or he is impossible, and no woman would have him.”

He stared at Cyran’s still-unmoving form, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Of course, he could be widowed, which would be worse for you. He would still be pining for his lost love and never recognize you.”

There was not a single word Loki said that she had not already thought of. Never in a million years had she planned to fall for Cyran. Quite the contrary. Her original impression of him had not been favorable, but spending time with him, even as rushed and crazy as it had been, her opinion had changed. Cyran had captured her heart.

Once past his defenses, she discovered a man who cared about the welfare of others, was generous to a fault, and, from how he talked about his mother and the co-regents, longed for a family, which meant he was more than capable of loving someone. Why not her?

“Loki, you don’t know that.” She tried to calm her shaky voice, unable to stop her shivering body as the frozen rain struck them. She never realized how clean ice smelled or how much it stung. “You don’t know either of us or what we are capable of, so quit the negative rhetoric. Are you going to heal him or not?”

“You are willing to help me leave this godforsaken world?”

Studying his face, Loki was handsome, but something flickered in the depth of his eyes—a craftiness she did not much care for. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Knowing she could have saved him, she would never forgive herself if Cyran died.

“Yes, I am willing to help you leave Jötunheimr, but nothing more. Promise me, Grandfather. You will do nothing bad to Cyran and not try to trick me into anything else.”

He sneered. “You drive a hard bargain, but I want off this frozen hell hole too much, so yes, I agree to your terms. Although,Granddaughter,” his voice lowered, making it difficult to hear him over the driving wind. “I take care of my own. I have never let anyone close enough to learn that about me, and I would like it to remain that way. To the world, I am uncaring, inconsiderate, and willing to trick anyone if it gets me what I want, and I’ve worked hard to maintain that persona.”

He stepped closer and laid one finger against Cyran’s forehead. “Now, before Frick and Frack show up, we need to leave.”

“What is that—frick and frack?”

“Not a that but a who. They are my guards and are never far behind when I decide to disappear. It’s like they have some tracking beacon, or some such thing, implanted on me. I never have more than ten minutes alone before they find me.”

“And this time is no different, Loki.”

At the low, gravelly voice, Shalendra ignored Loki’s pained groan. Still unable to move with Cyran’s weight holding her in place, she twisted her neck to see behind her and wanted to groan when she saw the three male Frost Giants.

Only a bit taller than a typical elf, their bodies were slender, and their faces seemed flat and very similar, reminding her of the Asian races on Midgard. Their skin was pale but slightly blue, as if the heat were leaving their bodies.

Each was dressed in what looked like black armor-plated, fur-lined coats. The black fur accentuated the paleness of their skin. Peeking through the bottom of their coats, she caught sight of black leather pants. The one in the middle stepped forward.

The brown-haired giant to the far left gripped a bow, much like the elves carried, and the cropped, red-headed giant on the far right wore two axes crisscrossed on his back and stood with his thick arms folded across his chest.

The middle and most imposing warrior was the one who had spoken. He had long, black hair pulled back from his forehead, a metal clip holding the braid. An impressive sword stood between them, his hands resting on the handle with the tip of the blade piercing the ice as if he did not have a worry in the world.

---