Subversion, p.8
Subversion, page 8
“Starkad taught us hand to hand combat.” Magnus didn’t flinch. “He was harsh, but he was always fair.”
Dahlia’s scowl deepened. “Yeah. They’re all great. Go. Have fun.”
Magnus studied Dahlia, then gave her a quick hug. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Dahlia’s tone softened. “You too.”
Apparently that was that. Frey took Magnus’s hand and they vanished.
Time for a little bluntness. But only a little. I turned to Dahlia. “I’d like you to try stashing the woe is me for a minute or two, if you can.”
“Excuse me?” Shock rippled from her.
“I get it. The gods are assholes. Frey and I both get it, and it’s why we do what we do.”
“If this is a just get over it speech, I’m not interested.”
“It’s not,” I said. “I will never disagree that your upbringing was horrific. I’m surprised more of you don’t need intensive therapy.” They actually probably did, but a lifetime of never show the world how you really feel had far reaching effects.
“I’ve gone to war with the gods for the man I love, and I’d do the same for you.” As the words passed my lips, I tasted their potency. They carried more weight than I’d expected. “But I can’t protect you from yourself if you choose self-destruction. Frey didn’t do any of those things you were talking to Magnus about.”
“You’re right, he didn’t.” Dahlia’s concession surprised me. “But he did make that call to Artura after I asked him not to.
He made a judgement call, to protect you.
I didn’t get the words out because she wasn’t done talking. “And he was deceptive about it. He snuck away. He didn’t even tell you, did he?”
I was grateful the answer was no because the last thing I wanted to do was lie to Dahlia, or have been complicit in a lie. But I’d never questioned him not telling me—he made a decision he knew I’d see the reason in. “Immortals do have experience. That doesn’t mean we’re flawless. Obviously.”
She huffed out a tiny sigh in response.
Frey appeared in the same spot he’d left moments earlier. “The Tailor will be here soon. After you’re done with him, we’ll refine your routine.”
“All right. Thank you.”
I managed to hide my pleased shock that Dahlia replied. I understood both sides of this disagreement, and things would be so much easier if they did as well so we could move past it.
The Tailor arrived. I wasn’t sure what kind of supernatural creature he was, besides fabulous. Today he wore red and blue hotpants, a satin spaghetti strap tank top, and had streaks in his hair that matched the shorts.
Dahlia remained tight-lipped through most of the measuring. The silent treatment was frustrating, but the lack of sound made it easy for my mind to wander to other portions of the conversation with Frey last night. If Dahlia did have access to the dragon part of her still, which I suspected was the case, could I teach her to embrace it?
I didn’t know.
Dahlia was acceptably polite and charming with The Tailor, though I watched Frey’s frustration grow every time she brushed his words aside.
The Tailor finished his work and his tools vanished. “May I speak with you for a moment, my dear?” He extended a hand to Dahlia.
“Of course.” She let him grasp her fingers and lead her away a few meters.
As they spoke in words hushed enough even my sensitive hearing couldn’t pick up the conversation, my curiosity grew. It wasn’t a long talk, though.
They rejoined us. “I’ll be done in two days.” The Tailor handed Frey a stiff fabric card that would serve as a receipt of sorts, then vanished.
“What was that about?” I asked Dahlia.
She worked her jaw, glanced at Frey, and said, “Nothing.”
I wouldn’t play games with her if she was withholding important information, but I’d let her simmer on her decision a little longer before I pushed the issue.
SIXTEEN
DAHLIA
When The Tailor pulled me aside, he asked, “What are you?”
“I don’t understand.” There were a lot of ways I could answer his question, but the way awe lined his curiosity made me think none of them were right.
“All of my gifts are centered around appearance,” he looked me over as he spoke. “And I can see the same in others. I know Fenrir is a wolf from looking at him. But you…”
My breath caught. Could he see the dragon? Was it there after all? “Yes?”
“Your aura is a stunning prism of possibility. As if you could look like whomever you want.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “I assume, from what I see. You didn’t know?”
I shook my head.
“If you’re going to perform, it will be a neat stage trick. But I do hope you’ll explore it thoroughly.”
Me too. “Thank you.”
I wanted to tell Fen when he asked, but I was still upset with Frey and not ready to let his deception go. However, I did obey when he said it was time to practice. It was almost second nature, no matter how hard I’d tried to escape—a god said do and I said on it.
“Do you want to go over what we practiced the other day?” Frey asked.
He was being kind, and I’d have to communicate with him to get anywhere. “Yes.”
Fen started the music, and I summoned the existing choreography to the front of my mind. Or I tried to. It wasn’t a complex dance, but I couldn’t get the rhythm right with the cantina band. I skipped forward a step too soon, then swung round a quarter twirl too much.
“Are you all right?” Concern peppered Frey’s question.
I didn’t sleep well last night. The excuse came easily, but didn’t feel right. I also wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. “I’m fine. Just warming up.”
“All right.”
I could feel Fen’s gaze boring into me, but I didn’t dare look. I took the routine from the top.
And stumbled over my own feet on my first twirl.
Then again. And again.
With each stumble or missed step, a new self-recrimination bounced in my thoughts.
I could’ve been a dragon. I could’ve been one of the most notorious hunters. I could’ve been omniscient. A killer. A daughter...
But I couldn’t be any of those things because they weren’t me. Even if I wanted them, which I didn’t, I was a child surrounded by gods.
The thing I hated the most about all of that was the bitterness in my own thoughts. That and the lack of control I had over my destiny.
“Dahlia.” Frey’s bark cut through my wandering thoughts.
I couldn’t hide my wince, but I did manage to swallow my I’m sorry. I wasn’t wilting under this pressure.
He sighed softly. “This isn’t working. How would you like to do things differently?”
My mind froze on the question. What was the right answer?
This wasn’t school. This wasn’t the past. He didn’t want a right answer, he wanted my opinion.
But did he? After last night, could I be sure that mattered?
I hated feeling like this. That I couldn’t move past these doubts. That he’d lied to me. I pushed resolve to the front and adopted a straight, rigid posture. “I’ve got it. Let’s take it from the top.”
“All right,” Frey said.
Fen restarted the music, and I flowed into things. The steps were easy. I didn’t have to take off my clothes during practice, I just had to sway with the music. I could do this in my sleep.
My toe caught on the floor and I stumbled.
“Damn it, you fucking know this.” Frey’s sharp tone sliced me to the core.
I was a grown-ass woman and I wouldn’t cave to the child whimpering inside me. But I also couldn’t summon a response.
“Stop. Music off.” Frey scrubbed his face. “I won’t apologize for the call I made last night.”
“Fine.” Wonderful. Fantastic. Fuck him.
“But I am sorry about the results, and I’m very sorry I was dishonest about my intentions.” Frey sounded sincere.
I didn’t like everything he said, but I did believe him. The hurt wasn’t gone, but it was soothed. “Okay.”
“Come here,” Frey said.
I stared back.
“Now.” His tone was firm and commanding, which spoke to those insecurities clawing at me from the past, but it was also kind. A reminder of why I’d come here in the first place. Frey wouldn’t hurt me. I knew that.
I stepped closer.
Frey grasped my fingers, spun me as he pulled me to him, and pressed into my back. I stiffened at the abrupt contact, until his warmth spread over me. This was intimate. Safe.
He rested his hands on my hips, and some of the tension drained from my neck. The room changed. We were in a large dance studio with a hardwood floor. There was something freeing about not being surrounded by NEON.
Frey settled his mouth near my ear and murmured, “Forget the routine for a moment.” As he talked, he moved my hips, and I felt him swaying behind me to the same motion. “Just focus on feeling your body.” He glided his palms up my sides, our movement never stopping, lifted my arms and moved his hands out to meet mine.
A smooth guitar chord filled the room and bled into the faster Whenever, Wherever by Shakira.
The external stimulus, the calmness and security of it, made it easy for me to step outside my mind, which was exactly what I needed.
“Right now, all that matters is what your skin tells you. What you hear.” Frey’s voice was still in my ear, his breath hot on my neck.
Somehow, everything else was falling away for this moment. He had the ability to influence people’s emotions, especially enhancing anything associated with passion. He could be doing that now—manipulating my reactions.
But he wouldn’t. Even if I didn’t know that, I could sense it, which was an odd kind of certainty, but I trusted him regardless.
And Frey’s touch felt good. His nearness was freeing.
He drew my hands back, bringing in my elbows, and hooked my fingers behind his neck.
I turned to press my cheek into his, relishing the simplicity of this moment and the heat thrumming between us. My thoughts wouldn’t be held at bay for long, but I could pretend it was possible to ignore them a little longer as he gripped my hips again. This was all sway. All fluid and natural.
And every association I had with this moment was tied to me. To us. Yes, I’d learned the basics of stripping for TOM, but dancing in general, what I did when I needed to let off steam, what Frey and I were doing now, I’d gotten into for me. I did it for me. And he was the reason I’d dived deeper into the different styles. The music.
None of this was about my past.
Frey took my hand, tossed me away in a twirl, and spun me back in. My smile peeked through without my permission as he crossed my arms over my chest, leaving me hugging myself while he held me.
“How are you doing?” His question rumbled through my back.
“Real good.” My answer came without hesitation.
“Ready to crank things up a smidge?”
Whatever that meant, I was up for it. “Sure.”
The music slid into a thrumming rhythm that beat out joy with each beat. A laugh escaped without my permission as the absurdity of the moment caught up to me.
“What’s so funny?” Frey’s question was kind. He still spoke in that smooth, low voice that was kind and seductive and commanding all at the same time.
“This is like a scene in a movie. A stupid, fun scene that makes no sense in the real world, because ordinary people don’t randomly break out in dance.”
Frey dragged his nose up my neck. “This isn’t random, and you’re not ordinary.”
A pleasant shiver spilled through me and I spun to face him. I draped my arms around his neck and pressed as closely as physics allowed. “No?”
“Definitely not.” He gripped my hips and thrust against me.
This wasn’t choreography. As we lost ourselves in the music it was writhing and abandon. The music spilled through me and I let it guide my body. Frey barely led, as dancing melded with desperate grinding driven by instinct.
Fen joined us, his unyielding body against my back, pressing me between them.
This was the kind of scorching safety that would burn me alive but never harm me. I tightened my grip around Frey’s neck, and wrapped my legs around his waist. Fen held me up. It was impossible to tell where one of us ended and the next began.
The music stopped, and silence crashed around us.
“Guess the playlist is over,” Fen growled into my shoulder.
My heart hammered against my ribs from exertion and my pulse raced with desire and anticipation. The world threatened to rush back in, and I fought to hold it back.
Fen settled his hands on my hips, and I unlocked my legs as Frey lowered me to stand on my own feet.
His gaze held mine captive, his lifetimes staring at me. I didn’t know where the thought came from, but it was all there—pain, grief, love, and celebration were all reflected in his eyes. “I’m sorry I deceived you,” he said softly.
There it was. The real world. “I’m sorry I’ve been so reactionary about… everything.”
“It’s a lot to take in, but you need to try.”
“I’m scared.” The words shredded me with truth as they tore past my lips, leaving a void and relief at the confession.
Fen leaned his forehead against the back of my skull. “You’re allowed to be. I don’t care what Hel or anyone else taught you.”
His permission shouldn’t be necessary, but it nearly made me sob.
Frey brushed his lips over mine. “We will help,” he murmured. “But you have to let us.”
I would’ve nodded, but I didn’t want to break the contact. “I will, but please…” My request caught in my throat. It was the terrifying kind of weakness that should’ve been beaten out of me a long time ago. The kind of dependence I shouldn’t have
Frey and Fen were more a part of my world than almost anyone. My list of people I never wanted to lose included them and Magnus—who was as much my sister as anyone ever would be.
“What is it?” Fen asked softly.
I swallowed hard. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Frey rested his forehead against mine, completing this precious, self-contained circle.
“We won’t,” Fen whispered into my hair.
SEVENTEEN
FREYR
I didn’t realize how much Dahlia’s presence, her trust, meant to me, until I thought I might lose both. Watching her seize up with doubt was heartbreaking, and I knew that was exactly what I saw.
With her reservations gone, and her being on speaking terms with me again, the rest of the day of practice went smoothly. She was confident in the dance, she added her own flair, and the finished product was a stunning sight to behold.
“Am I good enough to dance in your club?” Dahlia’s tone was back to playful as we wrapped up the rehearsal.
I gripped her chin loosely and raised her gaze to mine. “I’ve never had anyone better grace my stage.”
Her cheeks, already flushed from exertion, turned a darker shade of pink, and her shy smile was worth a large fortune.
Captivating.
The peace wouldn’t last long—not because of her, but because of the strife we were inviting to the front door, but tonight I wanted to enjoy the calm and I wanted Dahlia to be part of that. I dragged a thumb over her bottom lip, relishing her tiny sigh. “What do you want for dinner? Anywhere in the world.”
“Pizza and Ragnarök.”
I raised an eyebrow. She didn’t mean the event.
“You want to order takeout and watch movies?” Fen asked.
Whoever named an action comedy after the eventual end world had a twisted sense of humor. One I was still undecided if I appreciated, though they did have a misguided sense of our history.
“Not just takeout,” Dahlia said. “The best fucking pizza in the world. Besides…” She was in the mood to watch Hela and Loki suffer.
I fully expected that one day she’d present an edit of the movie where Fenris lived and made friends with Hulk, Loki didn’t have a redemption arc, and Hela’s death was much more graphic and prolonged. I offered my hand. “Let’s do it.”
The three of us ported back to the apartment.
“I’m going to shower real quick,” Dahlia said.
Seeing her like this—carefree, relaxed… herself—was infectious. “Do you need help?”
“I need pizza. With extra meat.” She was back to normal, without question.
I grabbed the ponytail she’d adopted halfway through the day, and tugged enough to elicit a gasp. I dragged my nose up the side of her neck to nip her ear. “Pizza now. Extra meat later.”
“Bad. But also hot.” She grinned and spun away toward the guest bedroom.
I ordered two meat lover’s deep dish pizza from our favorite place—between Dahlia and Fen there wouldn’t be leftovers. He and I moved in comfortable silence gathering plates, glasses, and beers from the kitchen and setting the table.
“I’m glad she’s talking to you again.” Fen’s tone was low.
Me too, but the comment tugged at a thread of thought I hadn’t realized was there. “It means more to you than it did a few days ago. She does.”
Fen sighed. “Yes. But I think the feeling has been there longer than that. Don’t ask me what it is, I don’t know. She needs us. But we’ve never met anyone else like her. What if we need her too?”
“In what way?” I hoped he had an answer, because part of me agreed with him, but I couldn’t say why.
He shrugged. “Like I said, don’t ask me to define it.”
“She’s got a lot of growing up to do.”
“She’s got a little, and most mortals do.”
I meet his gaze, eyebrow raised.
Fen chuckled lightly and shook his head. “How would you react if you found out you were a dragon?”
