Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
I’m talking about the soul-crushing sort of holding where you know the person has been searching their entire life for you. That even one second in their arms would be better than never having them at all.
I read a lot about love.
I haven’t ever experienced it. Not romantically, at least. One-night stands, either to scratch an itch or to piss off my father, don’t count, and both times were so disappointing I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I’d ever find someone who made me feel like I belonged.
Always the outsider.
Always the weapon.
Always the dutiful daughter.
Sleep. I need sleep, and even without a life-or-death quest on my hands, I have a packed day of classes tomorrow and a report on Ice Caves to write.
With Aric.
Yes, thinking of papers and classes and friends and relationships is ridiculous. It’s all going to be over soon—more than likely, it’s going to be literally over. But it’s not really about doing the coursework. It’s about him, getting close to him. And if I’m enjoying it—if I like pretending these friendships can exist beyond this week—well, sue me.
Would spending a few more days together before a possible tragic ending really be the worst thing?
My father hasn’t texted me since this afternoon, so maybe he’s having a good day. I can only pray Laufey is keeping his tantrums, his nightmares at bay. Her only power as a Giant is that of healing, both mentally and physically, but I see the toll it takes on her every single time she uses her power on Odin.
It drains her.
It will eventually kill her, compounded by her sickness and my father’s abuse. Maybe not for a while, but still, getting Mjölnir is about more than finding a weapon. It’s about freedom.
Once it’s in my hands, though…then what? Once Laufey is secure, I dread just giving Odin what he wants. A weapon that would make him all-powerful.
I shake my head. I feel like I’m missing something. I pull out the dossier my father gave me and start reading.
Multiple hammers were forged before Mjölnir. The first two nearly split Asgard in half when Thor tried to wield them. The text reads that they weren’t tethered, that he was too young, too volatile, that the training to help him control their power only made them more unstable and unpredictable. Interesting. It doesn’t seem like the runes are what’s making Aric volatile.
And the rune responded to me.
To its identity.
More importantly, it’s responding to our blood.
Am I somehow helping stir the storm inside Aric? And what happens if all the memories, his own and the ones of Mjölnir, slam into him at once? Would that kill someone? We haven’t talked about it directly, but I suspect part of Aric’s powers being dormant may be to protect him.
Then again, the lightning didn’t kill him, so maybe he’s protected already. How nice for Aric, I think, to have a destiny, a purpose, a clear map of runes to show him the way, and the protection of the ultimate weapon that somehow, out of all the people on this godforsaken planet, chose him.
I’ve only ever been chosen for death.
I wonder if this is Aric’s chance to choose life.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Aric
The knock is so loud I nearly fall out of bed. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s still the middle of the night. If it’s Reeve, drunk and wanting to chat, I’m going to murder him. Heart pounding, I fling the door open.
Rey stands there. Barefoot. Blank-eyed. Vulnerable. Looking like every victim in a crime show right before the other shoe drops.
She’s holding a chipped mug that says Cats Are People, Too. Without a word, she brushes past me, heads to my sink, fills the mug with water, and chugs it like she’s been lost in a desert for a week. It pours down her chin, splashing across her bare legs, which just makes me realize how bare they are.
Legs. Bare legs. Where the hell are her pants?
My gaze jerks upward. She’s in nothing but underwear and a silk pajama top that swallows her small frame while simultaneously hugging to every detail. I can see her nipples peeking through the fabric, and my mouth goes dry.
“Rey?” My voice cracks. “Rey, wake up. Seriously. I don’t want to die in my sleep, and neither do you. Just…go back to your room.”
She doesn’t listen. Just pushes at my chest with the mug still in her hand, shoving me back toward the bed. Is this some sort of weird side effect of unlocking the third rune? Before I can react, she crawls in beside me, dragging me with her, pinning me to the wall.
“Rey,” I warn. I’d agreed that, for a while at least, we could be on the same side. I didn’t mean the same side of the fucking bed.