When Wolf came back hours later, Freya was sleepily clinking at the strings of the harp with one finger. So relieved, she almost cried out she said.
“You´re back!”
But he was weary, his massive body still agitated from the battle and he looked like a real warrior. There was a blood stain on his cheek and a cut on the palm of his hand. When his raging eyes caught her own they softened, the sight of her calming him.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Hardly,” he said walking over to her. “The blood is someone else’s.” He removed the cuff, not bothering to apologize for the discomfort.
“I really liked being tied to the harp, by the way, thanks for asking,” she muttered. “Mozart sounds lovely with one hand.”
“Who´s Mozart?” Wolf asked, his shoulders moving aggressively and Freya hid a smile.
“Forget it.” Freya looked down on his palm. “What about this?”
“A Bauk did it with his word,” he shrugged. “Nothing to make a fuss about.” But he looked like he enjoyed the fuss. Freya grabbed some frost from the top of the harp and cleaned his cheek.
“All better now,” she said. “Battling doesn’t suit you, you know.” He scowled and she confessed. “Fine, I take it back. It does.”
“It´s what I´m used to doing,” Wolf said, standing up and Freya rose from her seat.
“Do you like it?” she asked and he looked at her as if the question was illogical.
“I live for it.”
“Wolf,” she began fleetingly. “Have you ever been badly hurt in battles?” Freya had never seen him without clothes, only seen glimpses of his skin. That first night in the tower, she had tried to remove his sweater but he had clasped her hands before she´d been able to. She wondered if he was covered in wounds. Freya didn´t mind if he was, but she wondered why he would be so self-conscious about it.
“Less times than I can count on one hand.”
“But…but so how do you die?”
“Why are you asking me that?” he asked. “Are you planning on ridding yourself of me?”
Freya laughed nervously and his eyes narrowed.
“Silly,” she said, playfully hitting his arm but he didn´t appreciate the humor and she gulped. “I…I just wanted to know.”
“Out of sheer curiosity?” he asked with brows raised and she nodded, breathing out. “I suppose if I should tell anyone it would be you.”
Freya´s mouth fell. He trusted her with his life! Maybe more than he had anyone else. But Wolf didn´t notice her reaction and continued.
“I must be set on blaze and decapitated.” He talked about it recklessly, as if it would never happen.
“I guess that sounds like a difficult thing to do,” Freya said, suddenly feeling nauseous. But not impossible, especially not for someone like Swarog.
“What is it?” Wolf said, when the ground beneath Freya´s feet seemed to shake and he steadied her, his eyes tender. “Nearly fainted out of worry for me, did you?”
“Yes,” Freya said with a pale smile and it wasn´t a lie. She couldn´t bear to think that this beautiful, strong male in front of her could possibly die in the battle. A battle caused by her. If she kept thinking about it, she would never go through with it. Freya let his white hair swirl between her fingers and he seemed surprised by the gesture but he pulled her in his arms, his hands descending down her back and then he just held her.
“You´re not allowed to die, you hear me?” Freya whispered and she could hear some kind of rumbling in his chest. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “I mean it.”
“Sweet female,” he soothed with wonder in his voice. “Never has anyone cared if I live or die.”
Freya pulled away a little.
“But, surely you´ve had other females care about you?”
“None that mattered to me and so I never mattered to them.”
Did that mean that Freya mattered to him?
“But what about the Frost Giants? They cared a little, right?”
“Frost Giants are as old as time. Life and death means little to those who were there when it was created.”
“Then I feel for you,” Freya breathed.
“Your heart bleeds for me?” A rare smirk flashed on Wolf´s face. “Good, a queen should feel for her king.”
Queen?
“What?” Freya stuttered but Wolf shot her a silencing glance as if daring her to contradict him but Freya couldn´t process this. OK, so apparently she did matter to him. A lot. He had planned their whole future together. The last time Freya´s future had been planned it had ended with Swarog and this time it would do the same. A small voice told her to be careful when history was repeating itself, but she blocked that voice out.
“When were you to tell me all of this? Sometime between the tower locking?” she asked and suddenly Wolf looked a little ashamed.
“I´m telling you now and I will not lock you in the tower anymore. From now on, you sleep with me.”
A sudden, forbidden thrill shot through Freya at his words and she told her body to calm down. Sensing that some of his guard was lowered she asked.
“Can I ask you for a favor?”
“What kind of favor?” he asked, immediately suspicious.
Freya took a deep breath.
“Remember what I told you about needing water?”
“What about it?”
“Well, I need it. If I´m kept away from it for too long, I´ll die.”
A sharp expression cut through Wolf´s face and for a slight moment Freya thought she saw panic.
“There is a stream behind the castle. I´ll take you there.” He grabbed her hand, ready to drag her away but she stopped him.
Freya bit her lip.
“Actually, would you mind if we went back to my river?”
“Forget it.”
Freya stroked his arm, feeling his pulse quickening and his hand immediately flew to her hips and breast, squeezing them gently at first but then almost too hard and she purred.
“Just for a short visit. I just want to see the other god´s, tell
