Page 16 of Fenrir

He pulled one of the steaks from the fridge and tossed it into the sterling silver bowl on the floor. Layla’s head lifted from the grass, and she sniffed the air before racing back to the door and sitting, staring at her food bowl.

Fenrir looked at her for a moment and then smiled. “Ith.”

Layla grabbed the steak and ripped it apart while he filled up her water bowl with a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

He then went to the cabinet, picked two new chew toys, and tossed them on her bed as he headed to his room to shower.

He stripped off his clothes and cast them into the hamper next to the king-sized bed he’d never used. He’d spent so long sleeping chained to the damned bolder that he’d never been able to sleep in a bed comfortably unless totally drunk.

Fenrir stepped into the shower naked and turned on the water, letting the frigid spray pelt his skin before it warmed. Then he lathered himself up, and as he was about to rinse off, Grace’s face floated into view.

Beautiful long, rich blonde hair with golden highlights. Curves that pushed out and sucked in to create the perfect hourglass. Hips ready to be hung on to. Plump, pouty lips begging for a kiss. And soft deep colored eyes that threatened to swallow him whole.

Fenrir couldn’t stop himself from stroking his length at the thought of her. He envisioned her without all the makeup and wet hair from being with him in the shower. Her soft fingers wrapped around him, touching him, tempting him.

It didn’t take more than a minute before he climaxed. He leaned on the shower wall and hung his head in his hands. Why had he done that? It was so disrespectful to her. Someone like Grace didn’t deserve to have a monster like him thinking of her like that. But somehow, he couldn’t help it. He’d met her less than twenty-four hours ago, and still, he couldn’t help how she made both him and his beast feel.

Needy. Protective. Hungry.

Maybe… maybe it would be better if he tried to forget her. To leave her to her simple life and not taint her with his evilness.

Pictures flashed into his mind of things he’d done for both his father and the Three Guardians Security firm. The people beaten, tortured, and murdered. Yes, he’d done all of it for a good reason, but still, the other gods never did it themselves. Never got their hands dirty. Whenever someone needed to be taught a lesson, asked for information, or made to disappear, it was Fenrir’s job to make that happen. Not his father’s. Not Tyr’s. Not Vidar. Not Hermódr. Only him. Only he was monster enough to do what needed to be done.

His phone rang in the other room where he’d forgotten to take it out of his jeans pocket again.

Fenrir took a shuddered breath and stepped out of the shower. He walked naked to his jeans and grabbed his phone.

“What?”

Loki chuckled. “I thought you would have been more cheerful, considering I have news about your mystery lady. Hel, I thought you’d have been here the moment Val mentioned it to you.”

“You took me to your place, not mine. Layla needed to go out and to be fed.”

At that moment, Layla trotted into the room with a new stuffed octopus and jumped up on Fenrir’s bed before beginning to lick it.

He was about to tell her to get off the bed, but at least someone got us out of it. Besides, the guilt from having left her alone so long made him feel he owed her at least a few minutes on it.

“Right. I forget about her. Sorry. Anyway, her name is Grace Thomson, and she works at Odin’s place.”

Fenrir growled, thinking of Grace dancing at Odin’s. Wearing less than she had the night before. Men leering at her. Wanting her. Throwing money at her.

“Easy. She’s not a dancer. She’s a waitress.”

A waitress. He’d still seen how waitresses could be treated by the demigods, vampires, demons, and more that visited the place. Though he was glad she didn’t have to deal with customers as a dancer, being a waitress didn’t make him feel more at ease.

Fenrir strode to his dresser and pulled out a vintage Def Leppard t-shirt. “Thank you for helping me. Your vow is fulfilled. I forgive you.” He went to hang up his phone.

“Wait. That’s it?”

Fenrir picked up a pair of jeans from where he’d thrown them a few days prior. He sniffed them and wracked his brain, trying to remember what he’d told Loki he had expected the night before. “You said you would find her. I said I would forgive you if you did. You did it. Vow fulfilled.”

Silence stretched over the line for a minute. “Just like that. You forgive me for everything that’s happened in the last thousand years?”

Fenrir slid his jeans up his thighs and thought about it momentarily. Honestly? No. He didn’t. But he would. Loki had fulfilled his part of the promise. Now it was up to Fenrir to do the same.

“Fen, I don’t expect you to just forgive me like that. I didn’t even have to do much to find her. It wasn’t hard at all. But I would like you to at least try to forgive me. Not now. Not all at once. That won’t work, and it wouldn’t be honest. But just… try. And when you are ready, I’ll be here. And I’ll wait. I’ve waited this long.”

Fenrir’s throat squeezed. Well, what the hell did he say to that?

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