Page 17 of Fenrir

“Okay,” he finally managed. “I’ll try.”

“Good. But before you go there to see her, I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” Fenrir barely paid attention as he tried to button his jeans.

Loki sighed. “I have a client. A woman. She’s…”

Fenrir stopped listening to the details as his gut clenched. “Send me the address and details,” he cut in.

Loki stayed silent for a minute. “Thank you.”

Fenrir shut off his phone and looked down. No reason to put on clean clothes to beat the shit out of someone. He grabbed a black t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants from his hamper and smelled them - even though he knew they wouldn’t smell since he only ever wore clothes once before washing them.

He’d do the favor for his dad, and then he’d change and go see Grace.

He looked at the text on his phone with the details.Man. Beat his wife. She’s in a coma. Here’s the address.

Fenrir pulled on his pants as his beast rose and snarled. He shoved his phone in his pocket, slid on his steel-toed boots, and stomped to the kitchen. He whistled, and Layla trotted in, octopus still in her mouth. She stared at him momentarily, then dropped the octopus and nudged him with her nose, leaning her body against his. Fenrir didn’t know how she knew when he was about to do something he didn’t want to, but she always had.

He rubbed her ears. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m not gonna die and let you starve here alone. I can’t die until I teach you how to open the fridge by yourself and pour yourself water.” He chuckled, and his thoughts turned to Grace once more. “Maybe I’ll have someone for you to meet with me soon. You have to be nice to her, okay? Because… I think she might actually be meant for me. But if you didn’t like her, that would be a deal breaker. So I really need you to like her. Okay?”

Layla sat and licked his face, making Fenrir smile. “Okay, enough of that. You have fun with your toys, and I’ll be back in an hour to change clothes. Promise.”

And he did promise. Because in an hour and fifteen minutes, Fenrir wanted to be walking through the door of Odin’s place. He wouldn’t let anyone or anything mess with his plans of seeing Grace again. Seeing her and making her his.

CHAPTER8

Grace looked at the clock.She’d been at work for almost four hours. She blinked. That couldn’t be right. Sure enough, the clock read two p.m.

She shook her head. She barely remembered anyone she’d met or served because Fenrir had consumed her thoughts.

Her friend's words had rattled around in her mind until she could no longer stand them, and then she had been forced to excuse herself for a bathroom break. She’d locked herself in a stall and prayed to her mother, the Moon Goddess, to please help her understand what was happening to her.

As usual, her mother hadn’t replied. But she’d felt calmer after those few moments, and just as she’d started to leave the bathroom, Vivian and Brigeeta had rushed in. Vivian just barely hit the toilet before throwing up, splashing red liquid everywhere. It hadn’t taken Grace’s wolf sense of smell to know that Vivian was throwing up blood.

“Is she okay?” Grace asked.

Brigeeta looked up from where she was holding Vivian’s hair out of the toilet. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. She just had some bad blood.”

“Bad blood?”

Brigeeta chuckled. “I told her not to bring home that pestilence demon from the Speed Dating event last night, but she wouldn’t listen. They never have good blood.” Brigeeta shook her head.

“He was hot,” Vivian choked out from inside the toilet bowl. “And he said he was clean. I believed him.”

It had been at that moment that Grace had decided Vivian wasn’t a good judge of character and that no matter what she or Brigeeta or anyone else said about Fenrir, she wasn’t going to make a decision about him until she found out for herself.

She opened the door to the bathroom to the sounds of Vivian puking again and got back to work. Her thoughts of Fenrir had consisted strictly of his intense eyes, strong jaw, heavenly scent, and hard body that she was pretty sure could have been used as basketball court material.

She walked to the bar, and Odin pushed a tray of drinks her way. She knew she should be terrified of the Norse god, but somehow, she wasn’t. It surprised her, but she assumed being the daughter of a Goddess herself had given her some kind of immunity to fear of other immortals. It was the mortals that scared her, if she was being honest. They were so much more intense. Always trying to prove themselves and take, take, take. She knew immortals could be like that too, but honestly, she’d not experienced that with even one of the gods or demigods she’d run into in the Underworld. Especially the Norse gods. They may be cocky, but she’d not found a conniving or mean one amongst them.

Grace walked her tray to the table and handed the drinks to her patrons.

“Here you go, guys.” She smiled.

One of the regulars gripped her wrist lightly, and she turned back. He threw her a pointed tooth smile.

“When are you going to give in and marry me?” he asked.

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