CHAPTER 68: COMPROMISE

“Shannon.”

Shannon felt every inch of her body as if it were on fire, her entire being surging with a pleasurable heat that was even then coursing through her, heating her nipples, building an exquisite agony burning in her groin as she flexed against something big and deliciously hard…

“Freyja be merciful please wake up.”

Shannon froze, recognizing that voice.

Like something out of a bad dream, she found herself under the barghest, both wrists pinned over her head, Björn’s big body holding her in place. He was panting and sweating.

Their eyes met. Only inches apart. Him looming over her, his hardness—because all of him was hard—pressing her into the ground like a slab of iron. Her body totally helpless beneath him, that roiling starry blackness of a predator a hairsbreadth away… Shannon forgot to breathe, her entire body going stiff in fear.

“Oh thank the gods,” Björn blurted, collapsing away from her, letting her up. Shannon scrambled to the side and quickly glanced down to make sure she was still wearing pants. She was. She pulled her knees to her chest, heart hammering, trying to remember what had just happened. It’s like a date-rape drug, she thought, swallowing hard. Fuck…

“Warn me next time you plan to give me a full dose,” Björn managed. “I might…concede…that a bit should be…spilled…before you drink.” He was gasping on the ground, big shoulders moving raggedly.

“Clear,” Shannon blurted.

“Oh fuck thank you,” Björn managed, flopping onto his back. He put a big hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, still panting.

“You…” she swallowed as her throat tightened and she couldn’t finish. “You…didn’t…”

He lifted his hand from his face so he could peer at her from beneath his fingers. “I told you I wouldn’t.” Then he groaned and looked up at the sky again. “Though the gods laughed at me the entire time.”

“We need to get you a drink of my venom,” Shannon said, heart still pounding from how close he had been. “That’s what Theo did…”

“Grudgingly,” Björn gasped, “I’d say you might be right.” He lifted his fingers to squint at her again with those pale, cream-colored eyes. “But for one problem.”

“What problem?” she asked.

“You dosed me first,” he said, his big chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. “It essentially immunized me against any long-term effects of an attempt to consort.”

Well, that wasn’t good.

“It’s all right,” Björn said, once again lowering his hand to his forehead. “You could say I’ve had time to…prepare.”

Thinking of the dozens of vampire queens that the barghest had supposedly slain, Shannon grew uncomfortable. “Yeah, uh…” She slowly got to her feet. “Uh, thanks for the, uh…” She swallowed and looked back through the bushes at the ‘boat’ that was even then being built under floodlights that illuminated the half-light of the Alaskan night. “I’ll just go with Theo next time.”

Granted she could find Theo. If he was even still alive. She turned to go.

Björn’s touch on her leg stopped her. When she flinched and looked down at the mammoth tattooed hand encompassing her entire ankle, she saw Björn looking up at her plaintively. “I’m not asking you to stop,” he said softly.

“But…” Shannon swallowed hard, remembering collapsing on top of him and humping him before it was lights-out. “I was basically raping your leg.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread over his face. “I’ve fed enough queens to know what I was offering, Mardöll.”

Shannon flushed. “Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked, grateful for the change in topic.

“What?” he asked, releasing her leg and lying back. “Mardöll?”

Every time he said it, she twitched on some inner level. “Yeah. That.”

“It’s the name of your soul.” He was watching her way too closely.

Shannon licked her lips, remembering the word she had first blurted out when he first said it. It had stuck with her ever since, almost seared there… “And yours is…Nökkvi?”

He nodded slowly, the platinum blond locks sliding along his massive chest.

“And…” She hesitated. “Freyja handed me over to Odin as a peace offering, and he gave me to you?”

“It was more of a prisoner of war, but yes.”

She grimaced at that idea. “And they…what…bound our souls together?”

Björn yawned. “Your spirit was dying. It was clear to any who looked at you. Your soul lacked an anchor, so they gave you one.” He shrugged. “Such is the will of the gods, to spare a soft-hearted woman a slow death.”

Shannon felt a little surge of indignation at that. “What about you? From what you said earlier, sounds like you weren’t in too good of shape, either.”

Instantly, Björn tensed. “What happened today was…unlike me. I’m normally not so…open…with my past. I’ll try to refrain in the future.”

“No, you hypocrite,” Shannon said, stepping forward to poke him in the massive pec. “You said you just wanted to die. You said that.”

Björn opened his mouth, looked up at her like he wanted to argue, then a little frown creased his tattooed forehead and he shut his mouth again, looking thoughtful. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Shannon said, feeling a surge of victory. “So don’t get all self-righteous on me like you’re doing me a favor. From everything you said, you’re a scary killing machine and I just liked to be left alone.”

Björn cocked his head as he looked up at her. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly what?” Shannon demanded.

“Wanting to be alone.” At her sharp glance, Björn shrugged his big shoulders again. “You had a mate in Freyja’s court. He was killed. Murdered quite horrifically, actually.” Björn was watching her carefully now. “The völva that investigated his disappearance traced him back to the First Realm around the start of the Inquisition. They found that his soul-energy had been used in a ritual to transmute the zeitgeist of Europe, to allow the hypocrites’ fervor to take over the spirit of that time. The völva found the binding circle where he was killed in a small church in Spain. There was nothing left of him inside but blood and dust.” He cocked his head. “Well, there was a watch, but I’m told you gave him that.”

Shannon felt something twist in her chest as bile automatically started to rise on a rush of sorrow, utterly unbidden. Her heart had started hammering and she had to look away as tears started to form, spontaneously. She fisted her hands against the weird impulse to simply break down sobbing.

The barghest went on, almost gingerly, now. “He was another sorcerer. One of the few male völva. Very rare. You two had been together since the dawn of Mankind, two of the very first to grace Freyja’s hall.” He hesitated, glancing at her again, and this time looked almost sheepish. “Older than I, by many millennia.”

All Shannon could say—all she could think—was, “They used him in a sacrifice?” The words came on a tide of despair and grief. The anguish was so thick she found it hard to breathe.

“Indeed,” Björn agreed, his face going hard. “It was an insult to the very gods, one that couldn’t be ignored.” The barghest shrugged his big shoulders and a wave of shadow rolled off him, crisping the leaves beneath him with frost. “Probably why I was sent.” He lowered his head, his face becoming pained and his words laced with anguish. “If I was even sent.”

Shannon considered that, weighed it, considered the ramifications of what it would mean if it were true, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’d…uh…like you to say all this again around my dog. Like within two feet of him.”

Björn squinted at her. “Eh?”

“I dunno. He’s always had the ability to…detect…lies.”

“A dog?” Björn demanded.

“You got a problem with it?!” Shannon snapped. “I’m telling you I might believe it…if my dog doesn’t call bullshit.”

“Your dog.” He clearly thought she was insane.

“Yes, my dog. I want you to tell me everything you just told me again while petting my dog.”

Björn stared at her for several moments. But instead of the brute telling her he thought she was insane, he shrugged. “If it is the way of the softlanders, then yes, I will repeat myself in the presence of your flatulent beast.” He yawned and relaxed on the ground, still making no move to get up and join her. “Odin’s horn, Mardöll, even for a queen, you take a lot out of me. I think I might need a nap.”

“Sorry,” Shannon muttered, feeling guilty. In truth, she’d lost control so much that, had it been Masaaki, she probably would have killed him.

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But the slow, evil grin that spread over his face as he looked up at her made Shannon flush all over again. “Don’t be.”

Shannon, at once embarrassed, but also curious and relieved that he didn’t feel like she’d just sexually assaulted him, tentatively searched his eyes a moment before saying, “So, if what you say is true—and I’m not saying it is—but if it is, you said there was more that needed to be done between us? To…uh…solidify a bond?”

He grinned slowly. “Our souls have to entwine in the spirit, blend our minds and memories as one.”

Thinking of sharing the memories of a barbarian brute, Shannon grimaced. “And how did you plan to do that?”

“It often happens, I’ve heard, happens during especially good coitus.”

Shannon choked. Definitely ditch that idea… “Weeeellll, that’s probably not happening any time soon.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps.”

Shannon narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps?”

“You’ll get hungry again,” he said, reclining easily. “Then, as my couch-man liked to say, we’ll negotiate.”

Shannon’s mouth fell open and she took an automatic step backwards. “You can’t negotiate sex, you oaf.”

Björn gave her a curious look. “Jessie said this, too.” He raised himself up on one elbow to see her better, looking puzzled. “Why not?”

“Because…” Shannon sputtered, “…it’s crude. And gross. And so twelfth-century.”

“If you already have gold, I could kill someone for you,” he offered. “Your greatest enemy?” He sounded hopeful.

Shannon’s mouth fell open. “You…” Her heart started to pound, realizing that the backwards Neanderthal was totally serious about trying to negotiate, and she could totally imagine him bringing her things like pile of gold jewelry he’d stolen from the local pawn shop—or oh, say, somebody’s head—in trying to earn her favor. She swallowed hard. “Okay, look. It’s not about negotiation. You have to trust someone to have sex with them, and, I mean, thanks for feeding me, dude, but I do not trust you.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Because, like a day ago, you were pinning me down and biting me and telling me you were gonna assault me to make up for something someone else did to you.”

Björn grimaced and looked away. “I never meant to tell you that. It was not manful.”

“Well you did,” Shannon snapped. “And I don’t trust you. I might never trust you. Hell, I can’t even stand the sight of naked people—I go completely catatonic. So just chill out on the ‘negotiate’ thing, ’cause it’s a long way away and right now I’m interested in snacking on you, not getting naked with you.” Hell, just the idea of getting naked was already making her sweat.

He narrowed his eyes and gave her a very long, very unreadable stare. Finally, he said, “The next time you feed, I will not wear a shirt.”

Oh that bastard. Shannon felt an automatic spasm of anger at the idea of seeing his skin again and opened her mouth to argue. Then she realized she was taking eating his soul for granted and flushed to her ears. And, in the look of challenge he was giving her, he was already well aware of that fact.

He continued pinning her with that really long look. Then he said, “We will negotiate. From now on, if you want to eat me, I will wear no shirt when you sink your fangs into me.”

She found she couldn’t respond.

“Of course,” the barghest went on slowly, “you could simply use the Nótt Danzleikr to command me to feed you while fully clothed, at which point I would no longer trust you.”

Shannon swallowed. “No baubles,” she blurted.

He cocked his head at her. “Baubles?”

“I don’t want gold, jewels, material things, none of that.”

“You’re already rich,” he said, nodding wisely. “Jessie explained this to me.”

“Nooooooo,” Shannon said, “refer back to Exhibit A. I want to trust you first.”

He sat up the rest of the way, looking curious. “Trust me how?”

“Oh, I dunno, not to go into a killer rage and rape me to death, let’s start there.”

“It’s actually the other way around,” the barghest chuckled.

Shannon squinted at him. “Huh?”

“You. A virgin queen.” He gestured at her with a smile. “Very dangerous.”

“You broke my house with an angel,” Shannon growled. “Don’t give me that ‘I’m afraid you’ll rape me’ shit.”

His amusement turned to mirth. “So no killer rages directed at you. What else?”

Shannon squinted at him, confused by his sudden willingness to work with her. “Did you, like, I dunno, break your brain in that fight or something? You weren’t this…bargainy…before.”

“My couch-man helped me to see the error in my ways when dealing with cowardly softlander women,” Björn said. He lifted a big hand up and started picking at something black in his teeth. Realizing it was cloth, Shannon swallowed hard and quickly looked away. He flicked the bit away and casually leaned back on his hands to look up at her, eyes amused. “What else?”

“What else what?”

“What else would make you trust me?”

Shannon felt the urge to make a quip, but realized he was totally serious. …And that this might be the fresh start she had hoped for. She squinted, considering. “Stop threatening to eat me.”

His lips twitched in a smile. “Okay.”

That was it? Just ‘okay’? Now she was sure there was something wrong with him. But, curious now, she gingerly followed that up with, “No raping people.”

“Especially not you.”

“Nobody.”

He adjusted his seat and continued to watch her. “And?”

“No hurting people who don’t deserve it.”

He gave her that smile again. “Who decides if they deserve it?”

“I do.” Or Masaaki. Or Theo. Or Angus… Anybody but this brute…

He sighed. “Okay.”

Shannon hesitated. “Just okay?”

“My couch-man told me to compromise. I am compromising.”

Shannon squinted at him. “What is a couch-man?”

“Someone who solves problems for you,” he said. And he smiled. “And, judging by how well this conversation is going, I’d say Jessie was a good one.”

Couch-man… Shannon thought, her brain scrambling to place that. She couldn’t. Clearing her throat, deciding not to get distracted in the middle of real progress, she said, “And don’t argue with me all the time. Back me up. Stop shouting. No stealing. Don’t break things. Don’t embarrass me in public.”

He raised an eyebrow at the rush, but said nothing, waiting.

He’s seriously willing to just do anything I say? Shannon wondered, a little perplexed. “Don’t threaten my dog. Or Theo. Or Masaaki.”

Björn grimaced, but inclined his platinum-blond head curiously. “That all?”

Shannon considered, long and hard, then flushed and, timidly, said, “And… Let me…braid your hair?” She hated how hopeful she sounded, but god damn that was some Fabio-quality hair…

He reached up and grabbed one of the thick platinum locks between massive thumb and forefinger, holding it up where he could see it. “You like this?” He frowned at the lock as if it were a snake. “I was going to cut it off.”

Shannon giggled, knowing it was girly, but unable to help herself. “I love it.”

He dropped his hair and seemed to consider her reaction carefully before heaving a huge sigh. “Fine. But, as my couch-man said, compromise goes two ways.”

Shannon’s heart stopped, realizing this was where he informed her he wanted her to lie down and spread her legs right there. “Yeah?” she asked, uncomfortable.

“I want to share your bed.”

And there we go, she thought, her face heating to nuclear levels. “I told you, I have to trust you before—”

He raised a hand. “Fully clothed, just to sleep, so you can learn to trust me. If you’re still too afraid of me to sleep beside me at the moment, I will settle for the same room. For now.”

‘For now.’ Meaning he plans, eventually, to sleep in my bed, Shannon thought, bristling. He’s out of his goddamn mind… Then she had remembered Masaaki had basically done the same thing, insisting to sleep within six feet of her. And Theo. And Angus. Something about protecting her from her enemies, yada yada yada manly horseshit manly horseshit. She squinted at him.

“Further,” Björn continued, “if I want to engage in a friendly fistfight or a bout of drunken debauchery to release tension, you will not stop me.” Then, cocking his head, he amended belatedly, “As long as nobody gets hurt.”

Shannon narrowed her eyes. “I’m still stuck on the ‘share my bed’ thing.”

“Compromises,” he gritted, his whole body starting to tense as shadows began rolling off him, “Go both ways.”

Seeing all their gains about to unravel, Shannon quickly said, “Fine, but I have an addition.”

The shadows stopped pooling around him and he grunted curiously, raising one of those beautiful platinum brows.

“I want you to start controlling your temper. No more Hulk smash when you get pissed. If you’re mad, you talk about it like a normal, rational human being.”

He made a disgusted snort. “I am not a human being.”

“But, if I’m translating what you told me about Asgard correctly, you were one.”

He twitched an upper lip in a half-snarl, but reluctantly muttered, “Yes.”

“Then act like it,” Shannon said. “I don’t care how long you were a beast. If Disney’s taught me anything, it’s that guys with attitudes just need a tender touch.”

He squinted at her a long time. “This is not Beauty and the Beast.”

Shannon grinned, delighted he’d caught popular trivia. He had, after all, been forced to babysit a Barbie-collecting kid. “Says who?”

He cocked his head and seemed to consider that. “For one,” the barghest said finally, allowing shadows to run down his arms and pool in his palm, “I’d eat that spineless pussy of a candlestick, then shit out his polished remains.” He grinned at her over his palmful of shadow, which, to her shock, had formed into a delicate rose inside a glass case, all composed of exquisite, varying degrees of darkness.

Shannon felt herself grinning back, delighted. “That’s pretty cool.”

He snorted and eyed it critically. “Very useful when babysitting the small child of a man you despise because you are enslaved by a blood-magus’s spell and cannot leave.”

Shannon felt herself cringe inside. “Did you eat the kid?”

“No, just the father.” He shook the shadows away and looked at her. “The child and I still correspond, when I’m not getting ass-raped in a dungeon or beat to death by a Fury.” There was complete sobriety in his face, no mirth whatsoever.

Shannon let out the breath she’d been holding. “Sounds like a lot of bad stuff’s happened to you…”

He tensed, that façade going back up. “It’s a consequence of being one of Odin’s Chosen. Many seek to break my spirit.” He made an unhappy sound. “And, ironically, only Odin himself has been able to do it.” Then, shrugging, he got to his feet. “Are you capable of driving?”

Shannon squinted up at him, having been content to stay hidden at the Deshka Landing to avoid Inquisitors or the Duke. With the barghest’s energy zinging through her, however, she not only felt capable—she felt thrilled at the idea of doing something dangerous. Which, now that she thought about it, was probably not a good sign. Do I take some of their traits into me when I feed? she wondered, thinking about Masaaki and the sun. Remembering Björn randomly putting his fist through a hull of a boat because he was upset, she realized that was probably Bad, and going out in public right now when Björn was the only thing she had fed on was probably also Bad. “Maybe?” she said warily. “Why?”

“There are things I need for his funeral,” Björn said, glancing through the alder thicket at the carpenters swarming over his new ‘boat’. “Blankets, gold, swords, meat, mead…”

Remembering the alcohol-drenched state of the interior of the limo from her brief conversation with the dead cook, Shannon automatically gave him a nervous look. “Why mead?”

His pale eyes widened and he looked down at her as if she were mad. “Because we need to feast!”

Somehow, surrounded by the everyday boat-launching business of the Deshka Landing, she didn’t feel like that was going to go over too well. “I thought you just wanted to set a boat on fire,” she said.

Björn snorted. “I want to get my friend to Ásgarðr. The Valkyrie are more likely to pay attention if many people are at the feast.”

So he wanted to invite the neighborhood. Great. Here, everyone, just watch us stow this headless corpse on this boat, douse it with gasoline, and torch it in the middle of the Susitna River. Jötnar’s blue babies, she was so screwed.

But, seeing the steadfast determination on his face, Shannon knew that to tell him ‘no’ was to watch him go try to start a car and drive away himself. “Fine,” she muttered. She looked him over for long moments as he did the same. “But no attacking random strangers, stealing, or shouting.”

“Or breaking things,” he added, picking at the feathery bark of a birch tree with a claw. He looked at her over it. “Or threatening you.” He raised a brow, obviously waiting for something.

He was offering a lot, in the grand scheme of things. She cleared her throat, flushing. “And…uh…I’ll only drink from you when your shirt is off and when we sleep…I’ll, uh…” She swallowed, “…let you be close.”

“And let me be debaucherous and engage in manly tests of strength when I feel the need,” he prompted.

“And that.”

Björn held out his big hand. “Then I feel we have a bargain, little queen.”

She took it gingerly, letting him squeeze before he let go. “Now,” Björn said, turning back to the parking lot to watch his boat, “Take me to town so that I may acquire gifts for my friend’s funeral.”

“With money,” Shannon added.

He actually flinched at that. “With money,” he muttered.