He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I’m used to eating on the run and don’t usually pay attention to civility. My motherandfather would be horrified, but—I am a wolf.”
“But no less an elf, so mind your manners.” She bit into her sandwich again, savoring every flavor hitting her tongue. She hadn’t had roast beef this tender in years. Nor had she ever mixed barbecue sauce with mayonnaise, but it was sinfully delicious and something she would ask her own cook to prepare from now on.
In heaven until the last bite, she swallowed, wishing she had something to wash the bread down with and glanced at Émilien’s magic bag. “Do you, by chance, have anything to drink inside that amazing satchel of yours?”
He grinned and pulled out two bottles, looking suspiciously like human beer. She took it from him, noticing the slight condensation on the dark brown glass, and twisted out the cork stopper. With a discreet sniff, her eyes widened as an overpowering berry scent hit her nostrils. “What is this?”
“The Greek pantheon’s ambrosia. Try it.”
Taking a small sip, she then downed half the contents. “Oh my, but this is heaven in a bottle.”
He nodded, taking a long swig from his own bottle. “Yep. I always keep a small supply on hand for just such an occasion as this. Stuck in a cave, not knowing what’s coming at us, and needing to sleep.”
She yawned and drank the rest of the liquid before handing the empty bottle back to Émilien. “You really don’t know where we are?”
He reached into his bag once more and pulled out a blanket and pillow, handing them to her before finishing his own drink. “I never said I didn’t know where we were.”
She tossed the pillow on the ground beside her and shook the blanket, pulling the soft material over her as she laid down, her head near the sleeping wolf pup. She yawned again and glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me when we first got here, then?”
“Because I wasn’t sure when we’d arrived, but seeing the cave empty and the unmistakable wall art, I knew. The time we’re currently in was before I was cursed.”
She jerked upright, staring at him in horror. “What?” She glanced around the empty cave. “This is the cave you told me about? Why would anyone send you back here?”
“My ultimate torture?” He shrugged his wide shoulders, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his over-developed muscles played across his upper back and chest. Even under the thick black fur, the definition was visible. She shivered, but not from coldas heat coursed through her, settling in the distant parts of her she had tried to ignore for the last millennia. He was an animal, for gods’ sake. What was she supposed to do with that? With him?
“Are you still cold? Would you like the fire hotter? Larger?”
She forced her eyelids to close and smiled at his ever-present concern. It was hard for her to see him as he was—an animal—when his heart was so human...well, Elven. The trait had always surprised her, the way he cared for her above all else. He always had. His caring nature, nurturing and giving, was partly why she had fallen so in love with him. Those traits had been foreign to her. After all, she was Loki’s daughter, and her father was the opposite of caring and nurturing.
“No,” she mumbled, edging closer to sleep. “I’m fine. You need to try to sleep—whether you want to or not.” She felt the tips of his razor-sharp claws tickle across her arm as he pulled up the blanket, covering her shoulder and tucking the end under her chin. His compassion and attention to every detail made it difficult for her to keep her distance. Made it almost impossible to keep her heart hardened toward everyone, including him. Almost...
Hel awakened, instinctively knowing it was still in the middle of the night and that they were not alone. She felt the air shift beside her, an inquisitive touch, there one moment and then gone. She cracked her eyelids, for once thankful for the dimness of Helheimr. In the darkness of the cave, her eyes didn’t need to adjust, nor did she need light to see. In front of her, a body floated above the dying fire, its embers almost black. The shape wasn’t a ghost, yet the squat body seemed familiar somehow.
She held her breath as it neared Émilien’s sleeping form. The creature lowered, hovering just above his head. It reached out a stubby arm, and she saw three wicked claws. Her gaze darted to where the wolf pup slept, and her breath caught in her chest. The pup was gone.
Her gaze moved back to the creature as she debated whether to sit up or stay still. The indecision warring inside was annoying. She didn’t care much for the growing fear and did something she swore she would never do—reached out on the mental path she shared with Émilien.
Émilien, stay still— if you can hear me, donotmove.
I will always hear you, Hel. I feel the wolf’s presence in front of me.
It’s more than just a wolf. I sense the anger emanating from whatever this is. The body is bulbous, at least from the backside, making me think imp or demon. Of course, there are other creatures in the Nine Worlds I have yet to see, so maybe we’re in luck,and it’s one of those.
I’ve missed that, you know.
She frowned, not liking how the creature’s body was shaking and twitching, as if fighting itself. With their present lack of luck, the creature would probably lose the battle, too.What are you talking about?
Your weird sense of humor. It always appears at the worst time.
It does not! I have a great sense of humor,she argued, knowing full well he was right. Baldr had told her the same thing so often, she had to believe it. She didn’t care, though, because discovering she could crack a joke, even if it was poorly timed, had always surprised her.
I’m going to see how far I can push the little guy before he attacks.
You will do no such thing! What if he’s a demon?
Then I’ll deal with it.Émilien’s rumbling snore increased, filling the cavern and making her want to cover her ears.
Seriously?That’show you’re going to deal with it?