Page 10 of Fenrir

Fenrir glanced around just in time to see her slip off her heels and duck out the door.

Noooooooooooooo!His beast bellowed.

Fenrir tore off to the exit, tossing tables and chairs out of his way. He couldn’t let her go. He needed to find out more about her. Aphrodite and Eve yelled at him as he went, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. He needed to find her. Had to find her.

He burst out of the café and sniffed the air, but her scent had disappeared. He ran to the middle of the street and sniffed. Nothing.

He whipped his head in both directions. It wasn’t possible. How could he not smell her? He could smell anything. Track someone for a hundred miles. And she’d just been there. It wasn’t possible. Her scent, that beautifully heavenly scent. He would remember it for as long as he lived.

Panic lit inside him. In the thousand years since his birth, he’d never once met a female who affected him the way she had. And he’d never once met a grown woman who hadn’t looked at him in fear. Her large dark eyes had been full of wonder, confusion, and even lust, but not fear. Not one ounce of it. And her scent… there’d not even been a hint of the burnt chocolate that usually drowned out a woman’s natural aroma. No, her scent had remained the same. In fact, it had grown stronger as he’d neared her. Perfect. Sweet and savory, and enough to make him almost blow out of his jeans. It had taken every ounce of restraint to keep from stripping off his shirt and covering her with it so no one else looked at her. Or worse, throwing her over his shoulder and running out of DeLux.

Fenrir turned in a circle hoping to spot her, smell her, hear her, something. But there was nothing. It wasn’t possible. He was Fenrir, god of the wolves. How was it possible he couldn’t find the slightest trace of her?

His fangs lengthened, and his nails and hair began sprouting all over his body as his beast fought to be released. He needed her. She was his one. His fated mate. He didn’t know how he knew it. Maybe it was how she’d not shown an ounce of fear at the sight of him like every other female whose table he’d sat at. Or perhaps it was just her scent that had beckoned him into almost bursting through his jeans right there. But most likely, it was his beast who had clawed so hard at Fenrir’s chest to be let out that Fenrir wasn’t sure out he wasn’t bleeding internally from the onslaught.

Rage and loss pounded through him, making him want to wreak destruction on everything around him. He needed her. Grace.HisGrace. The one who, despite his having lost all hope, he had finally found.

He yanked on his hair as every ounce of her consumed his thoughts. Her beautiful dark cinnamon eyes invaded him. Looking at him with curiosity and acceptance. Her soft skin like velvet. The huskiness of her voice as she’d said his name. Her long tousled blonde curls that had cascaded over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. He had no idea why she’d worn pounds of makeup or a dress that had made him want to rip the eyes out of everyone who could see her, but it didn’t matter. She could wear nothing or a potato sack for all he cared as long as she was his.

His body shook with anger, making him want to find her all the more, but when he scanned the area, there was still no shred of information he could glean.

He roared into the night.

“Fenrir!”

He turned to see his father drop a bag and rush to his side. Loki looked over him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Fenrir’s entire body rolled with waves of rage as he battled with his beast fighting to keep control and not shift and wreak havoc on the Underworld. Lucifer had been benevolent by allowing them sanctuary there, but he wouldn’t take kindly to having his kingdom dismantled by one hormonal wolf god.

Loki looked around the street and then at the Café. “Fen, tell me what happened.”

A spark lit inside Fenrir, pulling him back from the brink. It’d been a thousand years since he’d heard his nickname.

“I…” He tried to form words. “Female… Inside… Grace…” He couldn’t think straight.

“A woman? You met a woman?”

Fenrir managed a slight nod as his beast’s agitation soared once more.

Loki processed his words. “Grace? Her name was Grace?”

Fenrir whined, and his gaze finally connected with Loki’s. “I… need her.”

A soft smile grew across Loki’s face, and he stepped forward, and for the second time Fenrir could remember, Loki hugged him.

In that instant, Fenrir was a youth again. Tyr had just tricked him into being chained, and he’d bitten Tyr’s hand off. He’d fought against the chains trying to break them or force them from his body, but it hadn’t worked. He’d roared and fought as Frigg had cradled Tyr’s arm, tending to it. Váli and Vidar dragged the chains backward toward a rock where he was to be tied.

Thundered crashed above them, and Odin materialized in front of Fenrir.

Thor stood looking on, Mjolnir at his side. Heimdall pointed his sword directly at Fenrir’s heart.

“I haven’t done anything,” Fenrir cried. “It was an accident. Tyr, tell them I didn’t mean it.”

Fenrir’s gaze traveled to Tyr. His best friend. His only friend. The only one who’d talked to him. Spent time with him. The one who’d taught him to fight and defend himself. The one who’d taught him about the stars and the heavens.

Tyr looked to Fenrir, his complexion pale. “I know you didn’t, my friend. I know.”

“See,” Fenrir pleaded. “It was not my fault. Why are you doing this?”

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