Page 19 of Fenrir

Embarrassed, she finally got off the apron and shoved it under the bar.

Fenrir held out his hand to her, and she looked at it for a moment before slipping her fingers into his. His large, calloused hand wrapped gently but firmly around hers, sending a shiver through her body.

Neither spoke as he led her through room after room to a set of stairs she’d never noticed. He pulled her down them and then down a series of cement hallways until they came to a grand set of heavy wooden carved doors.

He reached out, and a ripple of magic traversed the door and faded away as he turned the large branch-shaped handle of one of the doors and pushed it open. He stepped to the side, and she walked under his arm into the space beyond.

She stopped in the middle of the main room and took everything in. It was like an expensive suite in a hotel, only with a completely Norse feel to it. Heavy wooden night tables and a wardrobe stood on one side. Moss-green walls cocooned the place like a deep forest. The sounds of running water sounded from somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint. And a massive solid gold bed sat awaiting the Norse god of gods.

“What… what is this place?” she asked. Surely it couldn’t be Odin’s home. She expected him to have something much larger.

“You know about the fight club, right?”

She nodded. She’d heard of the arena where fighters could air their grievances with each other, take out their frustrations, or simply fight for some extra cash.

“This is one of the recovery rooms. But this one is just for Odin.” Fenrir crossed his brawny arms over his enormous chest and leaned against the heavy oak table.

“Are… are they all like this?”

Fenrir shook his head. “They are all different. They’re nice, but only a few are as nice as this.”

“You mean there are other rooms with solid gold beds big enough for elephants?”

A whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Nope. That is a specialty reserved for just Odin’s room.”

She nodded, and the two stared at each other for a long minute.

“Why did you wear so much makeup last night?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard. “Uh… my roommates did my makeup and hair.”

“But the dress was yours?” he asked, looking her up and down.

She fought the urge to cover her bare middle. “No. Brigeeta found it in the dancer’s dressing room.”

“Do you dress like that often?”

“Never.” She barely got the word out.

“I like you better this way.”

“What way?”

“Covered and natural.”

Covered? He called a midriff and poofy short skirt covered? “Well, then you’ll probably be even more pleased to know that I only wear this because it’s my uniform. If I have any say in what I’m wearing, I prefer a shirt that covers my entire torso and jeans.”

He nodded as if mollified.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… well, it’s not like I gave you my number or anything. And I know you didn’t follow me home.”

“I couldn’t find your scent.”

She nodded. Ah, yes. A gift from her birth mother. She was able to conceal her physical form, but only at night and only while the moonlight shone down.

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