Page 9 of Delinquent Dette
“There’s abutin there.” Frikka snickered and sat at their sturdy table, leaning over the face of it with a crooked grin.
“But I don’t know how terribly you behaved while I was gone.”
“I behaved just fine. I stayed all to myself in my little basement like a good Dette. The Dior estate has been gone and no visitors have come around.” Frikka pouted.
Over the years, the Nielsens had gone their separate ways, leaving just the two of them and their children that needed them less and less.
“They’re back,” Sten said, grunting as he poured the dried crumbles into the kettle, praying it worked better that way. There was so little of it.
“Maybe we should invite them for dinner.”
“Or give them a few days—they have a new Dette. He’s in heat, and I’m certain he’s their mate.”
Frikka scoffed. “They clawed him up to mark him as property?”
“He clawedthemup. I brought by their usual orders when I came in. They’re all crazy over him and I wouldn’t get ten paces from the door, the heat stench was so strong.”
He poured two cups, watching indigo water stream into their tin cups. The steam rolling off of it brought a peace to him, not unlike the peace that Hallr seemed to carry with him. Like smelling those dried blossoms he’d gotten so long ago, when they were fresh.
“Is that what I think?” Frikka perked up as he leaned over and inhaled over the cup.
“Mating flower. Yes.” Sten leaned over to kiss the top of Frikka’s head.
Frikka tilted the cup back and drank deeply, his throat bobbing in sensual waves as a fluid blush crept over his cheeks. “It tastes as good as it smells.”
“It’s all they have left, Elskede.”Lover.Sten sipped his and Frikka poured himself another cup. Midway through a hearty swig, he paused and placed the cup on the table, his eyes glassine and bloodshot.
“I know.” Frikka sighed heavily. “That’s why I was drinking. I won’t drink again for a while, though.”
“A good sober heat? A clear head so I can take you as you wish?” Sten settled down and watched his mate shrug.
“Go rest. I have work to do before my heat starts.” Frikka drained another cup and took a shuddering breath. “I’m more hungover than drunk anyway. I think I’ll make some cookies.”
Sten stretched and yawned before draining the rest of his tea. “Alright. I’ll rest up and you keep yourself on this tea until I’m awake. I’ve missed you.”
Frikka smiled and waved him off.
Frikka had never wanted to be his mate, but never for a moment did Sten think they weren’t meant to be together.
They’d been given the blessings of Tyr, of Freja, and the chaos of Loki.
Chapter Six
Frikka
1825
When one spent as much time on the seas and trading as Sten—neglecting their ma—partner, they came home tired. Tales of sailors who come home to their spouses and ravish them immediately were far too exaggerated. The only thing Sten ravished was his pillow.
But that would change.
It always did when heats rolled in, usually why Sten always made sure to be home in the spring and summer. Just long enough to fuck him and see if it stuck. But still, he never pressed the mating issue, made sure Frikka was comfortable, and allowed him autonomy.
Sometimes, he brought home the little blue flowers that made all the sadness in his mind fade. Sometimes he didn’t. But the tea he drank was the last of it, but there was hope. Frikka poured a cup of the tea, the same color blue as his sweeter Drake son’s eyes.Hallr.In the ways of the völur, and how Frikka knew things to come, he knew great travesty would happen and knew it had to happen for a new age to rise. He just had to prepare himself for it.
None could stop the future.
So, while Frikka drank his tea, he gathered his bin of eggshells, roasted bone, and powdered lime and set to grinding them into a fine flour. They tasted better that way than they had with the brine of seashells in them. But still, the name stuck.
