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)
“You force its hand, its will.” A voice wheezes from a body broken, bloody on the ground, half burned. “Odinfather will have this realm and everyone in it.”
“His reign”—the massive Giant raises the hammer—“is over.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Rey
Aric’s eyes flash white—pure, blinding white—and then he drops.
The sound that rips from his chest isn’t human. It’s a roar, deep and guttural, shaking the walls as he collapses to his knees.
“Aric!”
I stumble forward just as blood—shimmering silver, not red—slides in rivulets down his back. It traces the curve of his spine, pooling at the fresh mark burning into his skin. Othala, the rune of inheritance. My throat closes. It’s carving itself into him.
He braces on his hands, shoulders heaving, fingers clawing the floorboards as though holding back something massive, something ancient. His breath frosts in the air between us, white clouds spilling with every ragged exhale.
“Aric, hey. Look at me.” My voice breaks, but his eyes are locked somewhere else, not seeing me, not seeing anything but the storm tearing through his body.
I drop to my knees beside him, wrapping my arms around his torso. The ice sliding off his skin stings mine, but I force him upright, half dragging, half carrying him to the bed. He collapses onto it, chest still rising in frantic jerks.
His lips move. Barely. A mumble, broken syllables slurred together.
“Frost…”
I lean closer, my hair falling around us like a curtain.
“Odinfather…frost…”
My stomach twists. He’s not dreaming—he’s remembering. Gods, what is he seeing?
I pull the blanket over his trembling body and back away, my hands shaking as I grab my clothes off the floor. Every piece I slide on feels mechanical, like I’m dressing someone else, like this moment isn’t real.
When I look back, he hasn’t woken. He’s still caught in whatever vision is clawing at him, silver blood drying like war paint across his skin.
Unsure what to do, I start to inch away from the bed. Aric’s hand lashes out and captures mine. He strokes his thumb along my wrist, cooling—and healing—my skin.
“Tired,” he croaks from the bed.
“You should rest.”
“But the night was going to end so well, with you naked.”
I laugh despite being worried. But I don’t leave his room. I linger beside his bed.
“It would be easy if I didn’t like you,” I admit, as if what just happened between us wasn’t earth-shattering and world-bending. I can feel him all around me, like I no longer exist on my own.
“Life is rarely easy, and sex complicates everything—even really, really good sex with ice, and frost, and shivering—”
I cup a hand over his mouth. “Stop or you’ll have an orgasm without me.”
He clasps my hand in his. “Impossible. No man left behind.”
I laugh again. He cracks an eye and holds the blanket up for me to lie back next to him.
I don’t hesitate.
He peels the covers back farther, and I dive in against the golden heat of his skin, the body of a Giant carved from storm and shadow. I gulp.
“I’m not a piece of meat, Rey.” His mouth tilts in a lazy grin. “Giants have feelings, too.”
My cheeks flame. He catches it, of course.
“Wow,” he murmurs, tracing my jaw with his knuckles. “She blushes. Pretty. Where else do you blush?”
Before I can answer, his hand slides lower, cupping my breast, then gliding down my stomach in a slow, deliberate path that makes my pulse stutter.
I gasp as he flips me onto my back.
“Thought you were tired,” I breathe.
Shut up, Rey. Not the time to remind the man he’s tired.
“Second wind.” His palms spread wide over my hips, pinning me. “Don’t tell me how to feel. I’m hungry now.”
The meaning hits me the moment his head disappears beneath the sheets. A teasing kiss. Then the cool brush of his breath between my legs.
His hands grip my thighs. “Blush,” he whispers, icy air fanning heat where I need him most. My body arches in answer.
“Still worried about you,” I pant. But we both know that’s not true.
“Good.” His laugh is dark, wicked. “It’ll make me more determined to hear you scream my name.”
The rest of his words are lost when his tongue touches me, cool and devastating, each stroke unraveling me further.
“Gods—” I choke out.
He laughs against my skin, the vibration shattering me. “Don’t you know? The Gods are sleeping. They won’t hear you.” His voice is a promise, hungry and sure. “You’re stuck with me.”
I almost laugh, but it turns into a gasp. “No place I’d rather be.”
His head lifts just long enough for his dark eyes to cut into me, sharp and raw. “Same.”
And then I’m gone again—lost in the way he tastes me, claims me, makes me forget about heroes and fairy tales. Who needs a savior on a white horse when the storm itself is in your bed?
I clench the sheets in my fists as I lose control. It’s lightning. Chaos. Ruin. I see stars, and in that moment, I know: If this is what love is, then let me fall for the monster. Even if he hasn’t been fully unleashed yet.