Dana Bell: Howl for Me

But Tyr sighed, his expression one of regret. “It’s Gleipnir.”

There was silence. Even the female was looking at Tyr in exasperation.

“Well. That cleared that right up. Not. How about a more detailed explanation, you secretive ass-hat?”

Fen coughed, caught between laughter and fear. Jeff sounded like a handful.

If he kept taunting Tyr, the god would attack him and Fen would have no choice.

He’d place himself between Tyr and Jeff, take any blow meant for the smaller man.

No one would touch his mate and live.

Tyr merely grinned. For some absurd reason the god looked pleased.

“Gleipnir is made from the sound of a cat’s footfall, a woman’s beard, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spit of a bird.”

“Ew.” Jeff wiped his hands on his pants. “Bird spit, huh?”

Tyr laughed, bringing painful memories to the surface, memories when Tyr was his foster-father and all was right with his world. “The dwarves made it so that tugging on it only makes it stronger. Legend has it that Gleipnir will hold Fenris until Ragnarrok, when he’ll be freed to devour…” Tyr suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“It’s all right. I might carry his blood, but he’s not my family. Not anymore.”

The strength of a warrior flowed through Jeff’s voice. “How can we break him free?”

Tyr shrugged. “Hothead’s been trying for centuries. Did he give you a clue?”

Jeff shook his head. He turned back to Fen, and Fen saw that his eyes were the most beautiful shade of hazel. Fen bet they changed color with the man’s mood. Right now, the brown was predominant, his mate thinking hard over a puzzle that had stymied even the Trickster God himself.

“Wait. It gets stronger when you tug?”

Jeff exchanged a glance with the female who’d spoken. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Don’t pull the sword until you’re sure he won’t hurt you. Logan didn’t say what his temperament was like.”

Fen snarled. He’d never hurt his mate. Never.

He stopped mid-snarl. Tyr had spoken to his father? Since when? The two hated one another.

“Shh.” A strong hand stroked his head and Fen leaned into it, tamed instantly by Jeff’s touch. Jeff’s fingers stroked near where the blade exited his jaw. “I’m going to get this thing out of you. Don’t bite me, ’kay?” Jeff lifted his hand and shook it out. “Blech. Dog drool.”

Fen wouldn’t bite. Not yet. It wasn’t time. He’d bite when he claimed Jeff, not before.

He wanted to howl his agony when Jeff ripped the sword from his jaws, but he held still, only the shudder of his body and a single whine betraying his pain.

Jeff threw the sword away from him and stroked Fen’s head once more.

Fen’s quick healing took over, closing over the wounds, leaving behind not a trace of pain. Even if Gleipnir never came off Fen would be forever grateful that the sword, at least, had been removed.

“Holy shit.”

He stared over at Tyr, who was watching Jeff way too closely for Fen’s comfort.

“What?” Jeff’s attention was now on the bindings, his clever fingers stroking over them once more.

“Logan told me neither Kir nor he were ever able to move the sword.”

Of course not. They weren’t his mate.

“Maybe it needed to be someone of Grimm’s blood?”

Fen shook his head. No, Kir was of Grimm’s blood, and he hadn’t been able to budge it.

“Nope. Kir is Grimm’s son, remember?”

“True.” Fen felt something move on his leg. “Ah. I think I’ve got it.”

The fetters were gone. Gleipnir lay in a pile at his feet.

He was free.

Fen stood for the first time in centuries on all four legs and let loose his song.

Fenrisùlfr was free!

His legs shaky, he placed himself between Tyr and Jeff, rubbing himself up against the delicious man who’d declared himself Fen’s by both word and deed.

Never again would Fen be alone, left in darkness and anguish.

He was free.

Tyr went to take a step toward Jeff, but Fenris growled. Blood still dripped from his jaws, the last of the wounds still bleeding sluggishly.

Tyr pushed the female behind him, his eyes wide. “Could you repeat exactly what you said to him? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Jeff tried to move around Fenris to get back to Tyr and the female. Fenris responded by backing into him, pushing him farther into the cave and away from Tyr. Despite his weakness it wasn’t that difficult; he came up to Jeff’s chest.

Jeff pushed against his rear, but Fen refused to move. “ Jeg er din forlovede, behage spiser ikke meg. Og spiser ikke Tyr, den ville ergre din ny moder .”

“I thought you spoke some Norwegian.” Tyr was grinning. He, at least, seemed to know what Fen’s mate had said.

“Bits and pieces only.” His mate was scowling now. “What did my dickhead brother-in-law teach me to say?”

“Roughly? ‘I’m your mate, please don’t eat me. And don’t eat Tyr, it will piss off your new mother.’”

Fen could hear his mate’s teeth grind together. Hadn’t he known what the words would mean? “Remind me to thank him when I get home.” The resigned tone of voice would have worried Fen if his mate’s hand hadn’t moved to stroke his head again. “Wait, mother?” Jeff laughed, and Fen was enchanted. The man threw his whole being into it, his head back and his mouth wide. Fen bet he did everything else the same exact way. “Never mind. I won’t have to do a thing.”

Fen couldn’t help himself. He reached up on his hind legs and licked his mate’s cheek, his joy making Fen happy. Jeff lifted his shirt to wipe his cheek off, making Fen even happier. He shifted to his human form and petted his mate’s washboard stomach, the lean muscles rippling under his palm. “ Meget pen .”

Jeff pulled his shirt back down and blinked, obviously startled to see him as human. “Travis? What did he just say?”

“That you’re very pretty.”

Fen stood and gripped Jeff’s hand in his. He stared into his mate’s eyes, watching them change from brown to emerald green. “ Mine. ”

Jeff gulped. “Um. Right.” He turned to Tyr. “We need to go now?”

His warrior mate had turned into an unsure, frightened man. Fen was even more determined to protect him. “Go. Yes.” Fen tugged Jeff toward the cave entrance, keeping him away from Tyr. “No stay.” He’d have to get used to speaking again. It had been so long since he’d given voice that forming words, no matter the tongue, felt wrong somehow, his voice far too gravelly, almost like his wolf’s growl.

Tyr nodded. “You’re right. Grimm will be here soon.” He held up his left hand and the stump of his right. “We’ll go first, so you know we mean no harm, Fen.”

Fen growled. Tyr had lost the right to call him that centuries ago.

The female stepped out from behind Tyr. Her scent was similar to his mate’s.

“There’s a lot happening you don’t know, but Tyr isn’t your enemy. He never really was.”

Fen kept the low growl going. The female was deranged if she believed that.

“Not now, Jamie. Once we’re on the plane, we’ll fill him in.”

“On everything.” Jamie was glaring at Tyr.

Tyr nodded. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? So, the female was Tyr’s mate?

“C’mon, vixen. Time to blow this Popsicle stand.” Jeff reached for the female, and Fen pushed him back. If the female belonged to Tyr she wasn’t to be trusted.

He felt a blow to the back of his head and turned, stunned, to stare at his mate.

Jeff shook his finger at him, all hints of his earlier fear gone. Fen’s warrior had returned. “Bad dog.”