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)
“Tell me a story,” I blurt, tears in my eyes. “I can’t sleep. Silly, right?”
I swipe the tears from my cheeks and suck in a breath to keep from hyperventilating. I didn’t realize how much hearing her voice would affect me. I’ve been so strong for so long.
“A bedtime story? Well, how could I refuse?” She sighs. “Lie down, and when your eyes are heavy, I want you to nod.”
I get comfortable, lying on my back, then slowly, I nod, smiling because of course I know she can’t see it.
When I was little, my father used to tell me that my voice could conjure monsters. I had no clue he’d made it up to get me to stop talking so much. Back then, he was the center of my universe and I orbited around him, basking in his glow. So of course I believed the story, and it terrified me. So during Laufey’s bedtime stories, nodding it was.
The absence of words was my safe space.
“All right, I felt it.” She laughs low in her throat. “Good strong nod tonight, Rey.”
My throat aches as more tears slip down my cheeks.
“Do you remember the story of the wolf pup?” she asks, her voice steady, melodic. She always has a calming presence, even when the world spins into chaos. It’s like she’s tucking me in, like I’m seven years old again.
“The pup was small, scraggly,” she continues. “He followed the hunters from the village, hungry and limping, hoping for scraps. They laughed at him. Said he was weak. Said he’d never survive the bitter cold of the mountains. But still, he followed. Night after night, step after step.
“And one night, when the fire burned low, the hunters betrayed one another over the last piece of bread. They fought until none was left standing.
“But that little pup? He knew he didn’t need to fight. He didn’t need to be the strongest or the fastest. He just needed to survive while they fought one another. He was patient and persistent and eventually, they destroyed themselves. And then he licked the crumbs from the snow. He was the last one left to howl while their corpses bled into the ground.”
Her breath hitches, just barely, like she’s holding back her own tears.
“Courage, Rey, isn’t always winning the fight,” she whispers. “Sometimes it’s staying out of the fight altogether. It’s howling.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to hold in the sob, but it still breaks free, shaking my whole body. Because even if she never said the words outright, I know. This—her stories, her voice—is her way of loving me.
And it’s the one thing my father could never stop.
We hang up in the comfortable silence of family. I turn on my side and stare at the wall I share with Aric.
Blood of Odin. I may be his blood, but I won’t let it define me.
I’ll be the one who howls.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Aric
I know it’s Rey before the third knock. Is she seriously doing this tonight? She has to be exhausted after today.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little happy to see her, though. I yank the door open.
Same routine as last night: she slips in barefoot, clutching her chipped mug like it’s sacred; fills it at my sink; drinks it like my water’s somehow different from hers. Then she wanders straight to my bed, pats the spot beside her—like I need the reminder—and stretches out as if she owns the place.
I should leave. Go crash on her floor. Anywhere but here.
But temptation sits there staring me down, unapologetic and undeniable.
It means nothing. It means nothing. I keep lying to myself even as I give in, crawl in beside her, and pull her against me.
Because when I say nothing, I mean everything.
She means everything.
I can’t explain it, and part of me’s afraid that it’s just the runes or the monster inside me that wants her—not me. Or maybe it’s the situation. I’m not sure.
For now, I’ll hold her because I can, and in the morning, I’ll push her away because I should.
She nuzzles into my neck, soft and warm, and I bite back the groan that claws its way up my throat.
“You’re more tolerable when you don’t talk,” I rasp, trying to keep the walls up.
Her lips brush my neck. Oh shit. Not expecting that. My body jolts like she just lit a fuse. I force myself to stay still, to breathe, but then her hands slide over my back—slow, searching—until they slip under my shirt.
Her palms press against the runes.
The constant burn beneath my skin—it quiets. It just…rests. Her touch anchors me, drags me under, and I realize how bone-deep tired I really am.
My eyes fall shut before I can stop them.
Sleep swallows me whole.
And that’s how it goes for the next two nights.