Master of Umbra (The Valhalla Series) (8 page)

“
I am not listening to this. Bloody hell, you've made me regret inviting you to eat with me,” I complain, flouncing back toward the entrance to his chamber.

“
What do you expect when you invite me to eat with you? I can't think of anything I'd rather be savoring than a minxy morsel, and you can't deny that everything tastes better with a splash of hot sauce,” he drawls, giving me his 'butter wouldn't melt' smirk when he catches up to me and deliberately drops his arm around my shoulders to snag me up against him again, gripping me as he hauls me down the passage in his extra long striding.

“
If I didn't know you were a nice guy I'd think you were a total creep.”

“
I am a creep, I'm just nice to you,” he winks.

It's almost missed as we turn into the dim tunnel to the dining hall.

I shake my head, giving his arm a hard pinch, but his silent giggling which spams his hold on me worms under the armor and I laugh with him.

“
Incorrigible prick,” I say into the echoing darkness.

“
You put the noxious into obnoxious darling. Have you considered partaking in the occasional valium?” he teases, pulling me unsteadily closer to plant a peck on my temple.

“
Stop flirting.”

“
Or what?”

“
I'll accidentally shoot you the next time I'm doing target practice,” I parry, apprehension gritting my teeth as we step into the dining cavern together.

Gunn is in here somewhere.

“Grab a seat, I'll get Lloyd to bring our dinner.”

I nod, looking around for an empty spot on the long benches either side of the tables. They're like two railway lines running the length of the cavern.

Seeing space on the right, I wing that way, glancing back at Ewan who's already marching to Lloyd while doing the crooked finger beckon. I met Lloyd at lunch and rather like him. He looks like a smithy, not a chef.

I suppose I should get used to the teasing. Being part of the Eagle clan is like being adopted by an army of brothers all wanting to take the piss.

Sitting down in the spacious gap on the bench, I lift my hair, smoothing it back and tying it up high so I don't end up eating it. It's cool without the insulation and I shiver, rubbing my arms and squirming on my seat, looking back for Ewan.

Adam catches my eye, giving me a smile and a lifted toast of his beer. I nod back, returning his smile, about to face front and center when I notice Gunn sitting halfway up our table on the opposite side. I catch him glowering at me with a baleful scowl which he averts the second he sees me looking his way.

What? Does he have the hots for Ewan and hates me for getting the attention that should be his? Speak of the devil, the charmer slides his hand down my back as he straddles the bench and parks next to me.

Spying Gunn, we're targeted when Ewan yells down the table, “Gunn, come meet Deliah.”

He always says my name as though he's saying Da Liar. It usually rustles a few smiles, but Gunn looks like I just spat in his pasta.

Oh yay, (not), he's introducing me to his infernal majesty of damnation.

Looking disgruntled Gunn stands, strides nine paces, leans over the table and offers me his hand without saying a word.

I clasp his to shake it, only to have him disconnect on contact. He shakes hands as if it's a backstage pass to catch syphilis.

Nodding grimly, he glances hellfire at Ewan before returning to his plate and resuming his meal, his head down and ignoring the world. Does he want us to allocate a national holiday to his supreme douchehood?

Ewan runs a warm hand down my back, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “He has the hots for you.”

Gunn looks up. If looks could wound Ewan's head would be rolling down the center of the table right about now.

His mouth slithers into a livid line and he glances my way as if to imply the only hots I give him is a rash. Okay then, I guess he loathes me. Looking back to Ewan, I mutter, “Hots? If that's the hots, what's he like when he has the colds?”

“Trust me, it's just a matter of time,” says Ewan, looking utterly convinced with the delusions he's drooling under his breath into my ear.

Adam leans closer, saying to me, “If he throws you over his shoulder, it's a done deal. Mark my words.”

“Not if I get to that line first,” winks Alan.

Shuddering, still cold, I can't believe this shit. So basically we're back in first grade where if a guy likes you he bullies you, pulling your hair and pinching you every time he passes you.

Eyeing Gunn, I would imagine that would hurt, severely. I might have a lame arm for days if he chose that route.

“
So what's for dinner, I'm ravenous? Something smells divine,” I ask Ewan, wishing to change the subject.

He preens, muttering, “Why thank you, flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I wasn't talking about you,” I smile, the tension broken with his depraved sense of humor.

Laughing with me he pulls me tight again, planting a brief kiss on my forehead, “You are the perfect fit. I knew you would adapt to our size.”

“Sod off, Ewan. When you speak everything you say sounds sordid,” I mutter.

Adam's laughing, raising his beer, “Come for a drink with us after dinner. We'll show you how we have a good time.”

Oh I can just imagine. I wonder what's on the menu, Deliah tart with a side order of whipped cream?

Ewan spits out his drink, spewing all over me, laughing raucously.

Shit, I forgot about the little fact that he can hear my thoughts.

So you know how Gunn makes me feel?

His eyes lose their happy glint and he nods covertly, “Yup.”

And you still think he has the hots for me?

“Yes I do.”

Too bad for him
, I think to Ewan, giving him my defiant smile.

Grinning at me, he whispers under his breath, “I expect you to eat all your meat tonight. No spitting it out, you need the protein.”

Bursting out in scandalized laughter myself, I punch him on the thigh.

Giving me a sly wink because everyone seems to be watching us, he mumbles, “And now they'll think you like me, as you so nicely put it, we're back in the schoolyard.”

I can't help it, I look around guiltily, pegged to the spot at the fire glowing in Gunn's eyes at our display of camaraderie.

It's the look that if he was a god would instantly send me to burn in hell.

Gunn just shot me down.

Ewan pats my leg under the table, silently trying to reassure me without the entire mess hall being aware of this messed up dynamic.

Looking back to Ewan and his gilded eyes, I whisper, “Why does he hate me?”

“
He doesn't. He's going to love you as much as I do.”

Chapter 13

Swollen with anger
He seldom sits still

~Poetic Edda

Ewan:

Stalking into Gunn's quarters, I ring the bell in the doorway, “Gunn, a word.”

The familiar sound of a barrel being cleaned reaches me with an exasperated sigh. Metal hits wood and I hear a chair scrape back as he gets up.

Appearing in the doorway to his study, he gives me a wary  stare, “Chief?”

He looks tired.

“
Gunn, I have no intention of sending Deliah to her death tomorrow, I expect you to be her male companion when she intercepts her soul sister.”

He slouches against the basalt doorframe, scowling at me, “Why me?”

“You know where they're located, you've had eyes on the target which means you recognize them on sight, and you're the most capable and qualified. I'd go myself, but don't think leaving the lair without a chief is prudent right now.”

He can't argue with any of my reasons because they're grounded in solid logic.

“Fine.” It's curt and flat, bordering on insolent, making a move to go back to cleaning his firearms. “Don't think I don't know what you're doing.”

“
Gunn, one more thing...” I stall him.

He pivots back, his mouth set in a grotesque grimace, raising his eyebrows in silent query.

“You were blatantly rude to Deliah at dinner. I expect you to mend that fence before you work together.”

“
Are you telling me to apologize?” he sneers.

“
Yes. You are a better man than that Gunn, stop behaving like a delinquent.”

He pulls himself up to his full height, reminding me why he's my second in command and the one I trust to have my back come fire or flood, “Ewan, if I shake her hand I'll be bonded to her. You know it and I know it. Stop trying to sabotage my freedom.”

Laughing, I shrug, “It was worth a shot. I haven't used the bonding hand to touch her either, I was reserving that privilege for you. However, she is bonded to me as her chief, and I will not use it to my advantage. Now go apologize to the lass, she feels victimized by you.”

“
But I haven't done a damn thing to her!” he says, getting vocal.

“
Every time you look at her, it's an execution. She's sensitive, she's lived through more trauma than you can possibly fathom, she's hyper-aware of expressions and nuances that silently cue  her of impending violence or upheaval, and you my friend are freaking her out when I need her to feel safe. You are not a cold-hearted prick so stop behaving like one. You can be polite even if you don't want to bond to her. She has no clue why you're behaving like an arse, make it right. No warrior works well with a partner they can't trust. Fix it.”

I don't wait for an answer, pegging back around and marching out of his rooms as the glass wall thuds with a frustrated punch, his '
fuck'
reaching me loud and clear as I smile into the darkness.

Next stop, Deliah.

*

Deliah:

Lying on my bed with Bella, I'm delighted to have my own room with an en-suite bathroom. I was severely anxious that come nightfall I would end up in a deplorable position, but it seems there are little elves working hard whenever I'm not around.

Because I'm under 'Ewan's guardianship' until I'm inducted properly into the Eagle clan, my bedroom is just next to his quarters. So if I need back up it's available. Sweet, a little creepy, but still sweet.

I looked for him but he wasn't in his rooms, and I don't fancy trying to find him without a personal GPS so I know where to go and where not to go. It would help if they had walkie-talkies or something.

“Were your ears burning?” I ask, as a familiar shape looms in my doorway.

“
My heartstrings were resonating, how could I resist the insistent flutter in my chest,” he smirks, offering me his hand. “Before you get comfy I need to show you something.”

“
What?” I ask, suspicious, taking his hand and letting him draw me out of my kitty snuggle. With Ewan I half expect him to want to show me something rude under the guise of 'assistance'.

“
You were severely ill last night, in the throes of death to be more accurate. Because of it you didn't have the experience in the ashroom you were meant to have. I need to remedy that before your excursion tomorrow.”

“
Uhm, about that. Ewan I don't think I can do that, not on my own. I'm not a mediator or a negotiator, I'm brand new to this and refuse to be solely responsible for a war should I accidentally offend someone.”

His grin turns into a dashing movie-star smile, “You won't be alone, you'll have company.”

“Oh! Good,” I nod, thinking of Adam, or one of the normal guys I'm beginning to know, when Ewan says, “Gunn will accompany you.”

“
God! No! He'll conveniently push me off a cliff and tell you a crazy Raven did it.”

“
Nonsense Cotton, now stop being so melodramatic, grab Arrabella and let's go read the mist.”

“
So you're calling me by my last name now?” I ask, turning back to scoop Bella into my arms.

I like that he's included my little ruffian in his family dynamic. Never trust a man who doesn't care for animals. I learned that lesson the hard way.

“Cotton suits you, all soft and growing wild, a little speck in the landscape that looks like a solidified prayer which never loses its color, never fades, it stays vibrant and resilient. Your surname most definitely suits you darling, makes me want to cuddle you.”

Smirking at him while we walk the way to the ashroom, I say, “As long as you don't call me two-ply we'll get along just fine.”

His eyes flare amber, his neck tendons twitch out as if he just strained his arse holding in a fart when he rounds on me and snarls in a vicious growl, “Who called you that?”

Bella's hackles brush out as she growls back at him, and I scramble to soothe the drama, “Jeez Ewan, it was school days. Take a chill pill daddyio.”

Visually deflating with relaxation, he gives me an apologetic goofy smile, “Sorry, old habits die hard. If any of these men give you a hard time don't you go and protect them. You tell me. I refuse to have anyone insult you, even if it is just in jest.”

“
I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

He stops again, facing me, “I'd believe that if I hadn't met Dias this morning. Cut the tough chick act, you don't need it around me, okay sweetheart?”

“Ewan you're jumping on a raw nerve, use that tone again and I'll demonstrate how easily you'd fit into the choir.”

Ignoring my challenge, he plants his hand on my back, guiding me forwards into the cave I puked all over, “Do you have everything you need in your room? I sent Brian out shopping because Gina's still off with the aunty brigade. If anything in your drawers doesn't fit, let me know and I'll get Brian to get it sorted.”

“Who's Brian?” I ask, as he corrals me back to the spot behind the weird smoke. The chair's been replaced with a modern easy to clean leather couch. One should never underestimate practicality.

“
Brian's a bit of a handyman, runabout messenger type. His role is just as important as anyone else's. Here we are all equal, except of course for me. I'm lucky in that I get the final say on things, but otherwise I'd say we're all about equality here.”

“
Don't believe him Deliah, he can't be trusted, he watches granny porn,” is declared loudly behind us, and I crane my neck to see Adam strolling into the room.

Ewan chuckles gruffly at the jibe, “Yeah? At least I don't use a fake snatchpatch to spank the rabbit.”

“God! Too much information mean anything to you perverts?” I object, frowning at Ewan adjusting foggers around me. “Do they make granny porn?”

He covertly shakes his head 'no' at me, resuming the concentration on his task.

Adam saunters closer, resting in a lurch against the middle pillar, “Ewan likes them crusty. The tougher the bird the harder they are to pluck.”

Ewan gives me the secretive wink, “It's called stuffing the turkey, son. Don't judge it until you've tried it.”

Ohmigod, they're joking. Sick fucks.

Adam joins the haughty wink brigade by giving me one, nudging his head to indicate Ewan, “If you hear squeaking at night it's not the bed springs, it's his geriatric elbow while he's milking the tortoise.”

Ewan stands straight after his fogger fiddling, to tell me, “He's trying to imply I'm old, at least when I sowed my wild oats I wasn't standing in a meadow throwing barley to the birds.”

Adam goes bright red, betraying the fact that he must have really done that. I can't help it, I start laughing, holding out Bella to him, “Would you like to stroke my pussy while Ewan gives me an education?”

Ewan howls guffaws when Adam shrinks a foot with his blush and 'I'm hiding away' shoulders.

Bella looks at me with indignation and I cuddle her back on my lap, “It's okay Bella, boys never do it right anyway.”

Ewan clears his throat, managing to finally look a tiny bit embarrassed when the shoe's on the other foot. Quirking an eyebrow at me briefly as if to say 'we'll see about that', he swivels to stare across to Adam, “Did you want something in particular or are you just stalking Deliah?”

“
I , uh, just wanted to invite her to join us down in the beer hall. It would be nice for her to meet the crew and you know, just chill.”

Ewan turns to me, “Well? Yes or no madam, the man's waiting for a yay or nay so he can grease his drinking elbow.”

“Where is it?” I ask Adam, who's looking bashful and cute with his hands buried so deep in his baggy jean pockets that he looks like a pogo stick.

“
Second cavern after the mess hall.”

“
I'll meet you there,” I say, watching his face erupt in a gigantic smile.

“
Great. I'll save you a seat.”

And then he's gone, probably to do just that. Smirking at Ewan, I ask, “Not his lap, I hope?”

“Someone has a crush on the new damsel of the Eagle clan,” smiles Ewan. He glances at the doorway where Adam left a moment ago with a fond expression.

It gives me that warm, aw, fuzzy feeling.

Yes he's tough, but he's also softer than a teddy bear. It's a tricky balancing act which he manages to execute with ease.

“
So what are we doing here?” I ask him, pulling his attention back to the task at hand.

“
I'm going to touch your forehead with Odin's ash and then you will get information in the mist from the connection the tree still has to our gods. The information, by rights, should be yours alone, but you are welcome to ask me questions or ask for help.”

“
And what does this mean?” I say, staring at the charcoal vapor rising up in front of my legs.

“
It denotes you as one of our own, then all you need is the clan handshake and you'll be officially an eagle. Then we can teach you to fly.”

“
Fly?” I squeak.

“
What did you think being an eagle meant? This isn't a cheerleading squad, we're the real deal. We work for Odin and his allies in Asgard, we are 'magic' incarnate. We descend from gods, Deliah,” he says, resting his elbows on his propped up knee.

“
So when Alweada said Adam was flying, he really meant Adam was flying?” I ask.

“
Damn straight. Stick around darling and you'll soon find we're the source for every monster myth known to mankind. We're the original mothmen, our allies over in Vlaenderen are the original warlocks and supposed vampyres of legend, and just over the mountain and down the aspect we have our cousins, the draugr, who've spawned zombie stories as they are the original 'undead' race. And truth be told, fiction got it so messed up and twisted they've taken pure beauty and mutilated it into macabre blasphemy.”

I wish he was kidding, but he's got his 'I'm dead serious' face on.

He waves away the thought with a flick of his hand, “Enough chitchat or Adam's going to come looking for you again.”

Leaning forward he dips his fingers in the ash, coming to me to wipe it on my forehead, when it occurs to me to ask, “I thought oak trees were the holy trees. Not yew trees.”

“Oak trees are holy to Thor. Yew trees are holy to Odin, Thor's father. Ash trees were substituted for yew after the destruction of Yggdrasil. Plus we didn't want the fuckers burning any more of them down. It's called misdirection,” he says, his voice becoming warm and velvet, thick and sexy.

Or maybe that's just the ash on my forehead talking?

“Deliah, tell me what you hear, what you see...”

Every syllable licks my nipples and flicks my clit, riding my blood and nerve endings with stimulation so seductive my legs get that warm weak feeling. I could listen to him talk all night.