Jono didn’t go slow, and he wasn’t gentle, holding Patrick down with firm hands while he fucked him hard. Every moan, every hitched breath that escaped Patrick’s mouth spurred Jono on. He didn’t stop until Patrick came with a shout, Jono’s name on his lips as he shuddered through his orgasm. Jono dug his knees into the bed as he chased his own release, grinding his cock into Patrick until he came with a harsh groan.
Patrick’s eyes were closed, his fingers fisted tight over his head. Jono let his wrists go, the skin there red from pressure, but not bruises. Patrick blinked his eyes open when Jono touched his cheek with gentle fingers.
“We’re in this together, and I’m always going to trust you. That’s never going to change, love,” Jono said quietly before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Patrick’s mouth.
Patrick turned his head, catching Jono’s mouth with his, kissing so sweetly that it felt like an apology when he had nothing to apologize for. Jono gently pulled out of him before getting them underneath the blankets. Jono wrapped his arms around Patrick, holding him close, refusing to let him go.
Patrick stroked calloused fingers over Jono’s hips. “Where were you hurt?”
Jono shifted, grabbing Patrick’s hand to place it over the spot on his ribs that was healed up now. “Didn’t go deep.”
“A silver knife laced with aconite doesn’t need to go deep.”
“Bloke is dead and the demon is gone.”
Patrick rested his forehead against Jono’s chest. “Demons are never gone.”
Before Jono could reply, the hotel room door opened. He twisted a little on the bed to look over his shoulder as Wade walked in, one hand over his eyes and a bottle of air freshener probably stolen from housekeeping in the other.
“You better be decent,” Wade warned.
“Decent enough,” Patrick muttered.
Wade parted his fingers and cracked open one eye. Then he scowled and started to aggressively spray the air freshener. “That’s my bed you’re in. The other one was yours.”
“We can switch.”
“No. You can get me my own room.”
Patrick lifted his head and squinted at Wade. “Did you steal that?”
Wade stood at the foot of the bed they were in and sprayed the blankets on every word he spoke. “My. Own. Room.”
Jono’s eyes watered and he sneezed. “I’ll pay for it. Get out so we can get dressed.”
Wade sprayed the bed one more time before leaving, grumbling under his breath. Patrick sighed and pressed his forehead against Jono’s chest again. “I have a meeting I need to get to.”
“Okay.”
“I’m still mad.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
Patrick shifted in his arms and kissed him on the mouth before getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Make it up to me in bed like that and maybe I’ll forgive you, or you can sleep on the couch when we get home.”
Jono would make it up to him every night if that’s what it took.
14
“I thought the Chicago PCB had the case?” Patrick asked, staring through the doorway at the woman seated in the interview room on the fifth floor of the SOA field office.
“They did, but since the Sigfodrs are people of interest to our investigation into Westberg, the SOA took it over,” Benjamin said.
Patrick took a sip of his coffee, the Starbucks deep roast a far cry better than the office brew Benjamin had. “I bet that’s going to cause some friction.”
“It always does.”
“Who’s interviewing her?”
Benjamin slapped Patrick on the shoulder, giving him a mean smile. “You are. We were waiting for you to get back from your nice little break.”
Patrick gave him a sidelong look. “I was up for over twenty-four hours and got into a fight with Dominion Sect mercenaries.”
“And that’s why you got a break, but now it’s time to work.”
Patrick shook his head and took another sip of coffee. He mentally steeled himself before entering the interview room. He closed the door behind him but didn’t lock it. The room had no windows and no cameras, giving them a false sense of privacy. Patrick didn’t make the mistake of calling the goddess by the name people knew her by in myths.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sigfodr,” Patrick said.
Frigg watched him take a seat with those unearthly eyes of hers. They were red-rimmed from crying, but her makeup looked perfect. Patrick wasn’t sure if it was a show for the authorities or if she really had been crying over Odin. Immortal relationships were complicated, and Patrick didn’t understand them at all.
“There is nothing good about today,” Frigg said.
Patrick sat down at the small table across from her. He placed his coffee in front of him before discreetly writing out a silence ward under the table, letting static wash through the walls. “How are you holding up?”
“How do you think?” Frigg asked tightly. “The Dominion Sect has my husband.”
“Yeah, I know. I tried to warn him.”
“It is not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either.”
“I was speaking to the kitchen staff when he was taken. If I was there—”
“If you were there, you’d have been taken as well.” Patrick shook his head. “You think Ethan wouldn’t love to have you both? The more gods he can tie to a sacrificial spell, the better. Ethan’s people did a snatch and grab and got the fuck out of Dodge because that was the only way to get to Odin.”
“They should not have been able to contain him.”
“You guys might be taking tithes from politicians, and Thor might be accepting prayers as payment for his mead, but it’s nothing how it was in the past for you. That doesn’t give you power. It barely makes you something to remember. Ethan has Macaria and he’s got the entire Dominion Sect praying for
