Page 47 of Grave Curse

Was it any wonder this man had become a raving, insane control freak?

“I’m not going to thank you for trying to take control over every aspect of my life,” I told him, looking him in the eye so he knew how serious I was. “But I’m not going to fight the way you have things set up for me now. More than that, I’m going to do what I can to adjust to this new reality, because I need you to focus on the war, and not on me. I don’t want to be a distraction for you.”

Something seemed to relax in his body, and we were so close I could feel it. “That’s my good girl.”

“But I need to make something clear. You don’t own me.”

“Oh, my sweet little Gingersnap. I don’t need your permission to think I own you.” He moved in close until his brow rested against mine, and while the gesture was loverlike, his eyes burned with possessive fire in the semidarkness. “After all the shit we’ve been through to get to where we are right now—lying naked in each other’s arms in bed—it’s clear that I’veearnedyou.”

Chapter Thirteen

Loki

I’d only been to Loki’s place of work once before, to support him during a holiday art auction a few Christmases ago. While Tyr had always been more left-brained—a meticulous master planner, with everything in his life organized to the point of insanity—Loki and their baby sister Hel had been more right-brained. Art had been their outlet, and while Hel’s creations could either be sweet children’s illustrations or Gothic visions dark enough to give you lifelong nightmares, Loki’s had always been more of the hyper-realistic style, with people rather than landscapes being his favorite element to draw.

With a talent like his, and the world he’d grown up in, it was no wonder Loki became a tattoo artist at the most famous tattoo studio in North America, if not the entire world.

“Welcome to House Of Payne. Do you have an appointment?”

I gave the Rockabilly woman a smile, admiring the cherry-red of her hair that matched the cherries hanging off her earlobes. “Actually, no, I’m not here to get any ink. I texted one of your tattooists earlier to let him know I was headed his way. He told me to show up at one, because he thought he’d be done with his session by then.”

“Gotcha.” The woman plucked up a tablet. “I’ve got the schedule open right here. Who are you waiting for?”

“Loki Colgrave.”

“Loki, right. Yep, he should be wrapping things up any minute. Do you want to wait upstairs in the breakroom? I can have his wife, who’s working security here, keep you company.”

Ha. Subtle. “Loki and I grew up together, and I’d love it if Alice could keep me company. I haven’t seen her since the day she gave birth to their daughter Catherine last winter.”

Something relaxed in the other woman’s expression, and she gave me a brilliant smile. “Great to hear. If you’ll wait just a moment I’ll go ahead and page—”

“Ginger.” As massive in height and breadth of shoulder as Tyr ever dreamed of being, Loki came down the metal and glass-brick staircase that led into the open reception area where I was. “Damn, girl, it’s been too long. Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Vixen’s Den, where else?” He had the Colgrave look—hammered-gold hair, Viking-square jaw, and his eyes were a shade or two lighter than Tyr’s, almost like a tiger’s. When he gave me a brief but fierce bearhug it was like slipping backward in time. “It’s good to see you, Pokey.”

“Pokey.” The Rockabilly woman snorted, then cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m totally not going to spread that name around.”

“Great.” Loki rolled his eyes before settling on me. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods besides trying to destroy my badass rep with lame childhood nicknames?”

I took a deep breath and plunged in. “About six years ago, your brother Tyr had you run a guy out of town, a guy I was falling in love with. Does the name Jake Anderton ring any bells?”

In a heartbeat, Loki turned to the woman at the desk. “Scout, how much time do I have before my next session?”

The woman, Scout, flicked a scarlet-tipped finger over her tablet. “Roughly ninety minutes—enough time to get the numbness out of your hand, grab some coffee and clean up your booth, anyway.”

“There’s a diner across the street,” Loki said to me, grabbing my arm. “We can talk there.”

“Or, you can talk right here in front of me,” Scout called after us as Loki hustled me toward a revolving door. “I totally won’t spread around any of this amazingly yummy tea, Pokey.”

Yeah, the diner was an awesome idea.

While The Mad Cow was a worrisome name for a diner, I took comfort in how crowded it was, and it took nearly ten minutes before we were able to grab a booth near the back. Overhead, music that could have been played at a Halloween party whispered below the general din of a crowded space—“Time Warp” or something like it. The diner’s windows had been painted with Halloween-themed cartoony pictures as well, including a spooky tree looming over a graveyard, dancing ghosts and a bunch of laughing jack-o-lanterns.

Mouthwatering scents of frying hamburgers, French fries, grilled onions and strong coffee perfumed the air, and suddenly I realized I was starving. I ordered a cheeseburger with a side of autumn-themed sweet-potato fries, and a pumpkin-spice latte with tons of whipped cream. Loki, the party pooper, ordered nothing more than a couple slices of pumpkin pie and black coffee, then gave me a hard look when the server sped off with our order.

“Okay,” he began, lacing his hands in front of him. “Tell me what you know.”

“Not much. Just that the guy I was falling for dropped me like a hot rock, and Tyr admits years later that he was behind Jake leaving. I just want to know why.”

---