I’m praising your cunning, fish god.
Looking down at Thori, curled in his lap, Njord felt all smugness drain from him.
I don’t feel all that cunning, old friend. I left little Talvi to rule the kingdom alone, but I’m no closer to finding Ahti and Vellamo than I’d been years ago. And now that I’ve finally captured Thori, I feel like all I do is protect him.
Nonsense,Jökull hissed.Why not use the runes as they were thrown for you? You find him desirable, no?
Well…
Was she right? Did he lust after the man who’d brought nothing but pain and destruction to his sister’s kingdom? Of course, Thori was gorgeous beyond measure; anyone with eyes could see that. But desire?
Why not take him as your lover? What better way to humiliate the Æsir? And this way you won’t even have to treat him cruelly.
Njord hesitated. He hadn’t seen it this way before, but Jökull was right. Thori already trusted him to some degree, and he’d seen the look in his eyes when Njord had wrapped his hand around his cock. His need had been fueled by the potion, but hispleasure had been real. The trap was perfect. If he lured Thori in just a little deeper—if he played this right—he could bring him to spill Asgard’s secrets. And that could cost theÆsirthe upper hand in their millennia-spanning conflict with Vanaheim.
Jökull bared her teeth in a dragonish smile.
I like your thinking,Njord said slowly.
Good. Don’t forget my words. I want you to be happy.
Thori stirred in his arms, his brows furrowing as if he were having a nightmare.
I guess you’re in for another round. Svanhild doesn’t do things halfheartedly.
Njord had the distinct impression of being laughed at. He watched as Jökull’s blue scales turned translucent and her sharp-toothed smile faded into the darkness of the tent.
Inhaling a deep breath, his vision cleared. The seeing dream passed, and once again it was only he and Thori in the tent.
Had it really been Jökull who’d visited him? He could believe it. The fabric between the worlds was thin tonight, the air saturated withseiðr.
Thori groaned, shivering even as his skin heated up again. What had Svanhild mixed into that potion?
“What’s going on?” Thori slurred.
Njord ran his hands down his shoulders, relishing the feeling of Thori’s muscles flexing under his fingertips.
“You’re really affected by herseiðr, huh?”
Blinking, Thori opened his eyes and looked up at him. His gaze was glazed and unfocused, and it was clear he was still under the influence of the potion and the ritual unfolding around them.
“I—”
His lips parted on a soundless moan.
“I know, I know. It’s going to be fine.” Njord soothed. “Can you sit up for me?”
Thori struggled to rise from his slumped position, and Njord pulled him flush against his chest. He couldn’t help but marvel at the perfect expanse of Thori’s naked skin, warm and soft under his touch, bronzed from the summer’s sun and dotted with freckles. Thori of the thunder was indeed beautiful, and he fit perfectly into Njord’s arms. The way he melted into Njord’s touch had no business feeling this good.
“It’s not that bad,” Thori mumbled. “You don’t have to—I can—shake it off.”
“I doubt that.”
A deep blush spread across Thori’s cheeks. He flinched in Njord’s embrace as a particularly intense wave ofseiðrrolled over them. Talvi and Håkon seemed to be enjoying themselves; their powerful blessing surely tangible for everyvalain the realm. But Thori wasn’t avala. Still, Svanhild had made him susceptible to the magic that flooded the land, and Thori was absolutely powerless to shut it out.
“Oh—Hel—”
Curling in on himself, Thori pulled his knees to his chest, obviously still thinking he could see this through on his own, or maybe that Njord would leave him to his fate this time.
