My cheeks are stinging pink when the monsters once again grab my arms and yank me forward.
A heavy magical barrier sits at the entrance of the temple, a luminescent veil that can barely be seen. They jerk me forward and the curtain of magic caresses my skin as they drag me through it. They all stare daggers at me like their magic is a pass or fail test, and they’re waiting for the outcome.
My eyelids fall closed hard. I’m shit at testing, it’ll reject me. I’ll be left out in the cold to freeze into an icy corpse.
The magic rushes over me in a barrage of tingles. It slips by in an instant, and nothing bad happens… at least… I don’t think.
I pass.
The harsh expressions they all wear ease the smallest amount as they glare down at me. I can see that walking through the barrier and coming out on the other side passes the invisible test I had no time to study for.
Everything’s fine.
The monstrous man carrying my bag strides through the magical barrier, except something snags him. His arm jerks back and he falls to the ground in a billow of snowy air. Long, bony fingers scratch over his skull, confusion seeming to seep into him. Until he settles his sights on my backpack.
Shit.
A drum of noise consumes my ears as my heart pounds harder to see the giant stand once more, his attention on the bag as he takes a deliberate step forward. Just to be slammed back into the snow once more from the simple but strange weight of my bag…
Loki can’t enter here…
Why?
The giant roars, standing quickly and rushing the veil. A meow of annoyance crawls through the silence as the two of them are thrown to the ground, and this time anger lines the asshole’s deathly features. His claws rip open the bag, and he shakes the contents out. A wad of shirts and jeans as well as my infamous hot pink panties topple out and land with a suspiciously heavy plop in the thick snow.
I watch that spot with wide eyes.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.
The giant tosses the bag into the wind before striding through the barrier with ease. A breath slips from my lips, and it’s the first sigh of relief I’ve had the entire fucking day.
Loki’s fine. Everything’s going to be okay.
A scream of agony echoes off the marbled halls in direct contradiction to that thought. It’s a deep and rumbling sound, but I know instantly who it is. Icy sweat dots Torben’s panting body as they forcefully drag him, a creature of Hell, through the magical veil.
And he doesn’t pass their test.
Chapter Eleven
All the Swords
Rhys
Torben is completely and utterly naked.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
Despite the fact that I passed the test that allowed me an uneventful entrance into what they’re calling a holy temple, I’m no saint.
My gaze tracks along the dips and curves of his prone body. Scars mar his sides. Pale lines of wounds long healed rip up his arms and throat, even though it’s all just rugged beauty. Torben is gorgeous. A god in his own right. A majestic, powerful creature.
It’s why I’m confused as to why he’s still passed out cold.
They toss us into barred cells like dogs. Torben needs help, but they do nothing more than slam his face off the frost kissed floor before slamming the door on him. My eyes flit to the icy sword that’s still sheathed within his body like it’s a permanent part of his anatomy now.
It looks painful, the jagged edges gleaming in the dim light like broken glass. Blood wells around the wound, but it’s slowed now. I can only hope the blade is stabilizing anything vital that may have been hit.
I crawl across the gleaming, frozen floor and press myself into the bars made of the hardest ice that secure us in our own cells. The outside walls are made of stone, but everything inside is ice and snow, as if they repurposed the room to fit their needs. I never would have pegged the ice giants for having a dungeon below their place of peace and worship, but tonight has proven that I don’t know much about the world outside the bubble of the pack I grew up in.
