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)
It’s my job to pull Aric out of whatever stasis he’s in, since his memory of Mjölnir’s location would be on lockdown. And if I’m going to break that kind of God-tier stasis, I need to understand what keeps Aric standing in the first place.
What he clings to. What he hides. What he’s willing to bleed for.
I haven’t let myself plan much further than that.
Seduce? Marry? Kill?
I laugh at my own joke. I can’t kill him. Marrying him is even funnier, and seduction? He’d hold a knife to my throat.
Good thing I brought my own.
I flash my phone light around the sparsely decorated room. He has a beanbag in the corner that looks like it’s never been sat on. I plop down, put a piece of gum in my mouth, and assess his bookshelf.
He has a few books about architecture and behavioral science. Several history tomes. A whole shelf of classics. I refuse to respect him more just because I see Virginia Woolf.
I get up, walking over to the poster he has up on his wall. It’s a picture of the sea. Fitting. I bet he wants to return and has no idea why.
“You were born of the sea and forests.” I tap the colorful image with my finger and move on to his closet. “It’s only natural to be drawn to them.”
With a sigh, I run my gloved hand over his sweatshirts and pants, his loafers and hiking boots, then bring a T-shirt to my face and inhale.
Forest. Mist. Fire. Water.
Got it.
I may not have a ton of power, other than influencing people’s emotions, but my sense of smell is amazing.
I tuck the shirt under my arm and keep looking around.
Would he be drawn to the hammer’s hiding place the same way he’s drawn to the sea?
I slowly walk toward his desk when footsteps sound, along with Aric’s familiar voice.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there. I just forgot my book and wallet again. You know, the whole purpose of me coming up here last time,” he calls.
“Hurry up!” Reeve whines. “I’m starving.”
Shit. Short run, apparently.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I don’t even think. I just duck down, his shirt still clutched in my hand, and roll under his bed. Good thing he actually makes it. The comforter hangs just low enough to hide me.
I pat my waist to make sure my knife is handy. Just in case.
“You’re always starving,” Aric yells back. He’s close.
I’ll need to acclimate to his hypnotic voice. Damn, maybe that’s his superpower. Except…do Giants even have any sort of powers, other than strength? The gaping chasm of what I know about Gods versus Giants has never seemed wider. Fuck you, Odin, for not preparing me better.
I race through my memory of Marvel movies, which were about half right, according to my father. What the hell can Giants do? Make shit cold? Or is it that they like to live in a cold place? I shake my head. If they scared Odinfather enough that he wiped their memories, they definitely had more going for them than excellent body heat and the ability to make a snowman.
My breath catches in the back of my throat when the door to his room opens, and the wind carries his scent through the open window I forgot about.
Shit. He’ll know I was in here. First things first…I pray he doesn’t realize I’m still in here.
Floorboards creak as he slowly makes his way toward the edge of the bed.
“Reeve, I swear, if this is another prank you put a freshman up to, I’m going to murder you.” He sniffs the air. “I mean it. You know I haven’t been able to sleep for two days; stop messing with my head. You got me. Can we please go eat now?”
The floor creaks with each step Aric takes across the room until he’s leaning over to close the window.
He fishes something out of a dish by the door, muttering about dumb-shit brothers under his breath, then heads out again, pulling the door closed behind him.
My heart is lodged so far up my throat at the near miss, I just lie under his bed for a full five minutes. Not smelling his T-shirt. Just catching my breath.
When I’m sure he’s not coming right back, I slide out from under the bed, pausing just long enough to smooth the comforter.
The next five minutes are spent moving through drawers—methodical, fast. I pretend not to notice the tight pull in my stomach after confirming what I already suspected: black boxer briefs. Of course.
My face is still warm when I open the drawer beneath his sink and three pill bottles rattle against one another. I lift each one, read the labels. Nothing I recognize.
I slip out my phone and snap a photo.
I tell myself it’s for his own good. That maybe this will help free him.