Page 1 of Luna Cursed

PROLOGUE

There were many stories about how the Ulfheðnar first came into being. Some said they had been called to life at the time of creation and had always been walking the earth.

Others claimed that Odin All-Father had gathered nine of his best warriors before a battle and blessed them with power and strength, imbuing them with the spirit and form of wolves. Those berserkers had sworn their loyalty to Odin for the gift and pledged their allegiance and that of their bloodline for all time.

This was the story that the Ulfheðnar were telling now. That they were the blessed warriors of Odin and would always be loyal to the All-Father and those of his family until Ragnarök ended them all. On that day, they would fight by the sides of the Aesir and meet their end as the Norns decreed. Until then, whenever the All-Father called, they met him on the battlefield. They were always prepared for the call, honing themselves into an elite warrior society, ready to serve the gods.

There was one other story that had always been whispered far from pious ears. It told of a third creation of the Ulfheðnar. They came into being not as a blessing from Odin, but from a curse.

In the beginning, there was Fenris—a mighty wolf, the first shape changer godchild. Born of Loki, the god of change and tricks, and the powerful giantess Angrbothr.

Fenris was the first wolf shapeshifter, and he had posed no threat to the Aesir. Fenris lived, and Odin hated that he was more powerful than his own children. He fretted that Fenris would one day rise and take his rule and cause trouble like his father so often did.

Fenris loved, and when his mate became pregnant, Odin acted. He couldn't allow such beings to be born stronger and more powerful than man. He swore to bind Fenris for the safety of the realms and set about laying his plans, gathering support from the gods. None of them dared to tell Loki.

For all of his great wisdom, Odin overlooked Fate. And Fate did not like to be forgotten.

So the Norns made plans of their own.

They told Fenris that there was only one way for his family to live. He had to send his mate and children far away, hiding them in Midgard until the All-Father's temper cooled. Fenris himself had to submit to the All-Father's binding as the price of keeping his family safe. He had to become the monster that all would fear.

Fenris did. He let the gods tie him down with Gleipnir, magical bindings created with the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the spit of a bird, and the sinews of a bear.

Mighty Fenris submitted for love and swore his vengeance on the All-Father.

After a time, Odin learned of the wolf shifters living and thriving in Midgard. They had forgotten Fenris, their father, and they didn't know the story of where they had come from.

Generous Odin blessed them with a new story. And they were thankful and oh, so loyal. The chaotic power in their blood had been tamed. And Odin slept easier at night.

Deep in the darkness, Fenris waited, and he dreamed.

1

Tor was tired, and at the same time, he was wound up tighter than he had been in years. He had turned down Alruna's offer to portal him back to Oslo after Arne and Layla's mating party. He craved the drive, the still cool spring air streaking through his hair as he drove too fast. He needed to get away from Finnmark.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy for his blood brother; it was a joy to see Arne with Layla. Tor loved her like she was his own blood and only wanted happiness for both of them.

Tor just needed to get away and get his head together. To not think about the one person who hadn't been there to share the couple's joy. Lachlan had said that Ciara had requested leave and had fallen off the grid. They didn't seem to worry about it, as if Ciara did that kind of thing all the time.

Tor instantly got a twinge of unease between his shoulder blades, like his wolf side sensed the trouble brewing. He didn't think that Ciara was lying on a beach in a bikini, though he did take a moment to think about how it would look on her.

What was she doing that she was off-grid?Tor didn't like worrying about someone who didn't like him. He didn't want to think about how she spent her holiday…and with whom. Especially not with whom.

Tor hated that he cared most of all. He hated that he had picked her up in Svartalfheim, buried his face in her neck, and breathed in her apple blossom scent. He had known he would live to regret it.

And gods, did he regret it. Ciara was the Wolf Slayer. She would never let a wolf touch her again. His wolf didn't like that one damn bit. Luckily, it didn't have a say in the matter. Ciara Ironwood would never trust a wolf to hold her or keep her safe.

Tor had gotten back to Oslo and had slept for two days. He had only dragged himself out of bed when someone had decided to bang on his door. The scent of blood hit him halfway across the apartment.

"Fuck, what has happened now?" Tor yanked open the door, and Ciara Ironwood collapsed into his arms. "Ciara! What the fuck! You're bleeding." Her clothes were soaked in it, her scent tainted by sharp fear. Tor picked her up and carried her inside. "Gods, Ciara."

He had fuckingknownshe wasn't on some beach getting a fucking tan. He placed her on his couch, not caring that the blood would stain it.

"Torst… Listen to me," she croaked.

Tor went down, so they were at eye level. "Okay, I'm here. What happened?"

"Tor. I found… I found where Varg was hiding. W-We fought. I got away, but he b-bit…" Ciara stammered, her skin going paler.

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