Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2) (8 page)

Even though I gave that figment a Viking
funeral long ago.

“Brynn! Wait!” Henrik’s voice sounded far
away. I hadn’t realized I was running, but now I found it almost
impossible to stop. My legs moved without a conscious connection to
my brain. My feet pounded against the soft clovers, the pace
matching the pulse of blood against my ears. I ran and I ran until
I sucked in air and my chest felt raw. The burn in my muscles was
searing, punishing. It grounded me in the physical realm, tearing
me away from the anguish in my mind.
Never go back
.

“Brynn!” Henrik’s hand on my arm jolted me
back to the present. He whirled me around, and I was so
discombobulated I fell right into him. He wrapped a heavy arm
around me, holding me firmly in place. I threw my arms around his
waist and squeezed, anchoring myself to him. “Brynn?” Henrik leaned
back, lifting my chin with one finger. Grey-blue eyes bore down,
looking so intent I thought he might be able to see right through
me. “What just happened?”

“Nothing.” I hiccupped. I wanted to look
away, tear my eyes from that too-intense gaze. But being this close
to Henrik was mesmerizing. Enchanting. He was every bit as dazzling
as the elves and fairies whose charms we were trying to avoid.

Too bad his magic bracelet didn’t block out
guys.

“Were you thinking about last time?” he asked
in a soft voice. I wanted to lie, to tell him I was fine, over it,
and that it was locked away in the black box in my chest where I
stored all unwanted emotions so my
perfekt
control never
wavered. Henrik’s pupils dilated in concern, and the color of his
eyes shifted to a slightly deeper blue. Gods, I couldn’t lie to
him. I’d tell Henrik anything he wanted to know. Ever.

“Oh, Brynnie.” Henrik rubbed my jaw between
his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m so sorry. I should have thought
about what losing Freya again would do to you. If you want, I can
take you home and—”

“No.” I shook my head violently. “I’m in this
with you. I may not have been old enough to do anything to help
back then, but this time I am. You and I, we’re going to take that
perp down. Or her. Or them. Whatever. And then we’re going to make
whoever it is pay.”

“Brynnie, Brynnie, Brynnie.” Henrik rested
his chin on the top of my head. “You are something else.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, trying to ignore the
smell of sunshine coming off his chest. How was it possible for
someone to smell like, well… like happy? Henrik smelled like
happy.

“No, I mean it.” Henrik pulled back. His
thick hair was disheveled from our jog, but his eyes bore their
telltale twinkle, as if he viewed the world as an adventure yet to
be conquered. Immortality had always been so
easy
for
Henrik. For me, some days, it felt inescapable.

“You mean what exactly?” I fumbled,
forgetting our conversation.

“You’re something else. You’re strong. You’re
smart. You’ve been through Helheim, but you don’t let the past drag
you down.” He moved his thumb to stroke my jaw and I felt a pull in
my belly. “If I’d seen what you saw…”

“You’ve seen worse,” I reminded him. “You
were Elite Team before you were Tyr’s guard. I know the kinds of
assignments Odin sends that group on.”

“Yeah, but there’s a big difference. Those
were just assignments—no personal ties. What you saw—”

Henrik broke off as I held a finger to his
lips. Despite everything I’d done to put my emotions on lockdown,
my eyes pooled with tears. I squeezed them shut to stop the
inevitable embarrassment. “Can we talk about something else?” I
begged. It was hard enough to keep the door locked without someone
bringing it up. Especially someone I already felt vulnerable
around. My gaze darted from left to right, looking for
something—anything—to talk about. “Like, uh… that.”

I exhaled slowly as I took in our
surroundings. A crystal blue pond lay to my right, its surface
barely disturbed by the cascade of water tumbling down a moss-lined
mountain. Grey stones intercepted the liquid at regular intervals,
creating a white mist that framed the waterfall from top to bottom.
Clovers and wildflowers surrounded the pool, and pink and purple
butterflies darted from bloom to bloom, wings flapping gently in
the light breeze.

“I guess this is the waterfall?” I shook my
head at my obvious words. “It’s so… it’s so…” Words failed me, and
the nearness of my memories mingled with the thrill of Henrik’s
touch, causing my eyes to water anew. He was here. He was safe. He
was… doing everything he could to make me feel better, and I was
crying on him.
Weakling
. This was
so
unprofessional.
I pounded my fist against his chest. “Dang it! Sorry, Henrik. Just
give me a minute and I’ll be normal again.”

“Brynn,” Henrik soothed. He laid his cheek on
top of my head and rubbed my lower back. His hands traced a
familiar pattern, and I started to calm, as if his touch drew the
pain right from my heart.
Typical
. The god was totally out
of my reach, but he was the only one who knew how to make me feel
better. His hands moved lower, the tips of his fingers dancing just
above the waistband of my cargos. Correction. Henrik Andersson
didn’t know how to make me feel
better
. He knew how to make
me feel
amazing
. My heart thudded so hard, he probably felt
it through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. Hopefully he’d just think
I was nervous about our mission or something lame.
Poker face,
Brynn. Control. Control.

“Talk to me,” Henrik ordered, and any hope
for resolve vanished at his commanding tone. “I want to be here for
you, but I can only help if you let me.”

My jaw twitched, and a traitorous tear
trickled down my face. This time I didn’t know what to blame—my
heartache at my memories, or my frustration at having spent a
lifetime loving someone who’d be married with kids long before
Freya ever released me from her convent. Sometimes life was so
unfair. Being of Asgard required a life of sacrifice—I got that.
But did I have to sacrifice the thing I’d wanted with all my heart
for
my whole entire existence
?

Oh, gods. What did the contract matter at
this point? If the past was any indication, it wouldn’t be long
before all Hel broke loose. And if, Odin forbid, it was
Henrik
that I lost this time around, did I really want to
spend the rest of my existence knowing I didn’t tell him how I felt
while he was still alive?
Still alive…
I drew a shaky breath
at the thought of a world without Henrik.
Regroup, Aksel.
Nobody’s dying… not today, at least.
But I didn’t know what
tomorrow would bring. The fact was, with Freya gone, there was a
very high likelihood the realms would go mad very, very soon. And
if we didn’t recover Freya before the realms began their descent
into darkness… if I really did lose Henrik…
Breathe, Brynn. It’s
going to be okay. I think.
I drew my shoulders. The worst case
scenario was a very real possibility. And if it came to fruition, I
needed to know that I’d laid all my cards on the table with the god
who meant more to me than anything in the cosmos.

Without giving it another thought I reached
up and cupped Henrik’s face. My small hands barely covered his
broad cheeks, day-old whiskers scratching my palms. Henrik’s eyes
widened, and before I lost my nerve I pulled him down to me. I
stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips against his. I’d imagined
Henrik’s lips would feel rough, but they were softer than the
Egyptian cotton sheets Mia recently snuck into every room in the
cabin, and touching them sent sparks of heat straight through me. I
ran my tongue lightly along the spot where his top and bottom lip
met and let out a sigh. He even
tasted
like happy. Sunshine,
and salt water, and fresh air and calm. I pressed against him and
kissed him harder, giving in to the explosion of joy bursting
inside my brain like a New Year’s fireworks display. I was kissing
Henrik Andersson.
Kissing Henrik Andersson!
It was the
culmination of every dream I’d ever had coming to fruition in one
glorious, beautiful, picture-
perfekt
package—in front of a
waterfall, no less. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d
tried. Mortals would make movies about this moment. Composers would
write symphonies. Wagner’s successors would have to add a new
movement to
Flight of the Valkyries
just to honor the beauty
of this impossibly ideal experience.

In my euphoria, I completely failed to notice
one very important detail.

Henrik wasn’t kissing me back.

In fact, he pushed me away.

STRONG HANDS WRAPPED AROUND
my biceps
and lifted me upward. Henrik pulled his head back and set me on the
ground an arm’s length away. He held me as I looked up in
confusion.

“Henrik?” I asked, tilting my head to the
side. His face was steady, the look in his eyes one of compassion.
Oh, gods
. He felt sorry for me.

Recognition fell like a wet blanket.
Humiliation cascaded in waves, intensified by the realization that
in one moment of stupidity I’d completely and totally mutilated any
chance I ever had at preserving the single most important
relationship in my world.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.

“I… I…” I turned to run, but Henrik’s grip
was too tight. He held me in place, refusing to let me escape the
horror of my gross misjudgment. “I am so sorry,” I whispered.
Forget the time freezer; the next invention on my list was a time
reverser
. I’d have given anything to erase the last sixty
seconds of my life.

“Don’t be sorry.” Henrik’s sympathetic gaze
was beyond humiliating.
Dear Mother Goddess of Alfheim, in whom
I previously did not believe. Sorry about that. If you’re
listening, pretty please open up the ground and swallow me whole.
’Kay? Skål, Brynn.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Henrik kept looking
at me.
Now would be a great time for that earth-swallowing bit,
Mother Goddess.

“Don’t apologize for doing that. Ever.”
Henrik spoke very calmly, like he was afraid he’d spook the crazy
girl who just mauled him. “But you know we can’t, Brynn. You’re a
valkyrie. If Freya found out we kissed, she’d withhold your true
love come promotion time.”

Heat prickled my skin as blood rushed to my
face. “I don’t care. That’s the stupidest rule I’ve ever
heard.”

“You may not care, but I do.” Henrik kept his
eyes locked on mine. “Listen very carefully, Brynn. You’ve got a
lot riding on keeping that vow. If you maintain your purity until
you reach rank—”

I threw my ponytail over my shoulder and
glared. “Do you hear how archaic it is?
Maintain my purity?
What is this, Victorian England?”

“It’s the valkyrie code. And it’s important
to you.”

“Not as important as some things,” I
whispered. The tears pooled anew. This time I didn’t try to stop
them.

Henrik’s expression softened and his eyes
turned another shade darker. He shook his head and took a step
back. His hands released my arms, and I felt the divide grow
between us.
Oh gods. No, no, no.
“Listen to me,
sötnos.
I’ve known you your entire life. And I love you
enough to remind you that as a valkyrie, that code is the single
most important thing in your existence. I know it’s hard. I
followed the same code at the Academy. The difference is, Odin gave
me a squadron of assassins to oversee for holding up my end of the
bargain; I didn’t get rewarded with my
perfekt
match like
you will.” Henrik’s mouth turned down in a frown.

“I don’t care,” I muttered. I’d given up hope
on the whole ground-swallowing thing. Now I just wanted this
mortifying conversation to end, and for everything to go back to
the way it was.

“You should care.” He spoke fiercely, as if
he were trying to convince us both, but I was too humiliated to do
more than stare at my boots. That Mother Goddess was going to have
a lot of explaining to do, if she existed anywhere in this realm.
Or anywhere at all.

“It’s not like anyone would know. Freya’s not
here,” I muttered to my feet.

“Freya’s not here?” a musical voice called
from across the pond. The notes carried on a warm breeze, light and
lilting… and devastatingly ill-timed. “Pity. I was
so
hoping
we could catch up, one love goddess to another.”

Henrik’s spine straightened. “
Perfekt
timing as always, Finnea.”

Curiosity body-checked mortification, and I
followed Henrik’s gaze. A shiny-haired, long-legged
fairy
made her way toward us. Lavender curls cascaded to her obnoxiously
small waist, while two transparent wings framed her body like a
pale indigo halo. She wore a strapless mini-dress that barely
covered her irritatingly ample assets, hugged her nonexistent
belly, and flared into a tulle tutu that stopped halfway down her
thigh. Shiny leather boots in the brightest of purples covered
calves that looked like she must have spent her developmental years
en pointe
. Their heels added another four inches to her
already nearly six feet of height, which meant that by the time she
finished sashaying around the clover-strewn path and made it to us,
she stood at least a whole foot taller than me.

What I ask is for the ground to swallow me
whole, and what I get is an honest-to-goodness fairy?
Whoever governs this realm has a seriously cruel sense of
humor.

“Henrik, darling. It’s been far too long
since you’ve paid me a little… visit.” Finnea twirled a lavender
curl with one finger as she walked. When she got to us, she reached
out to put her free hand on Henrik’s bicep. Since we were still
only standing a foot apart, it could have been an accident that
Finnea’s long fingernail speared my arm as she reached for
Henrik’s. But judging by the way she sneered at me, it probably
wasn’t.
Wench
.
That hurt.