from a thin slice across it from Anso’s blade.
“Who is the vif ?” Athlerod asked.
Vif must be another word for female. Leah wasn’t asking. She didn’t care.
“My mate,” Anso replied.
“Truly? Lucky pokker. She is very beautiful. Lush. Soft. Womanly.” And then he growled as if for emphasis.
His motions brought more blood to the cut on his throat. He swallowed, and it started pooling. And then it began to drip off both sides. Leah couldn’t seem to move. Her breath quickened. Her mouth watered. Her teeth started tingling again. Leah forced her gaze away. Back to Athlerod’s. She regarded him for long moments as he did her. She squeezed her hands on Anso’s bicep. He eased up his pressure.
She had another big, brawny, beautiful man claiming she was the epitome of womanhood? She’d obviously been born in the wrong century.
And here I thought I was fat.
“I know,” Anso replied finally.
Athlerod didn’t move his gaze. He was still entirely focused on her. And his eyes looked a bit moist. He blinked often. And then sighed.
“My brother found his mate, too. But she is a stick .”
The description was said in a desultory fashion, denigrating fashion models everywhere. Leah’s lips twitched at the instant thought. And then Anso replied, and stole her breath. Her wits. Her voice.
“I think you will find when your mate appears...that no matter what her shape, or height, or coloring...she will be the most beautiful creature in existence.”
Leah’s eyes filled. Athlerod’s features blurred as she blinked back the emotion. Anso so rarely linked many words together, and the ones he’d just spoken filled her with light. Joy. She probably glowed.
“Yeah? Well, she is also treacherous. Worse than a Midgard serpent.”
“Did this happen...recently?” Leah asked in a soft tone.
“ Ja. ”
“Your twin...was always with you, wasn’t he?”
“Again ja. So?”
“Oh, Athlerod. I can help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You were with your twin for over a thousand years, weren’t you?”
“Your mate is very nosy.”
Athlerod turned to address Anso. Leah moved her hands to his head and pulled him back to face her.
“You know. I am about done with male machismo bullshit. This is my psychotic delusion, and I’m running the show.”
His eyebrows rose. Anso choked.
“You are suffering Separation Anxiety Disorder, young man. It is manifesting in anger. And self-hatred. You are actually trying to commit suicide, but you are too weak to do it yourself.”
He stiffened. Anso’s knee flexed to hold him down.
“I am a professional! Get it? I can help. If you make an appointment—”
She didn’t get the rest out. A series of tremors raced through the ground, jostling everything in the room. Leah flew upward. Anso grabbed her waist and yanked her to him. Hugged her tight. Everything stationary became a projectile. Athlerod’s body heaved upward before being jettisoned into the cement blocks that had comprised his pedestal. And then the walls started wavering. Large cracks opened up.
“What in hel ?”
Athlerod sounded more angry than hurt.
“I love you, Leah,” Anso told her.
“What?”
“I told you. We did not have time.”
“What are you telling me now?”
His gaze locked to hers. Her heart dropped.
“Boom,” he replied.
More tremors shook the room. Chunks of debris rained down on them. Anso tucked her into his chest and leaned forward, his body taking blow after blow with an occasional grunt.
“We’re going to die?”
Athlerod yelled the question. His voice was disjointed, as if he yelled from another room.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Anso shouted back.
“No!”
Something large hit Anso, dropping them to the floor. He wrapped his body about Leah, absorbing even more blows. The space darkened by the moment. Grew heavy with dust. It was difficult to breathe.
And then a voice spoke through the destruction happening all about them. A large voice. Deep.
“Who is the vif ?” Athlerod asked.
Vif must be another word for female. Leah wasn’t asking. She didn’t care.
“My mate,” Anso replied.
“Truly? Lucky pokker. She is very beautiful. Lush. Soft. Womanly.” And then he growled as if for emphasis.
His motions brought more blood to the cut on his throat. He swallowed, and it started pooling. And then it began to drip off both sides. Leah couldn’t seem to move. Her breath quickened. Her mouth watered. Her teeth started tingling again. Leah forced her gaze away. Back to Athlerod’s. She regarded him for long moments as he did her. She squeezed her hands on Anso’s bicep. He eased up his pressure.
She had another big, brawny, beautiful man claiming she was the epitome of womanhood? She’d obviously been born in the wrong century.
And here I thought I was fat.
“I know,” Anso replied finally.
Athlerod didn’t move his gaze. He was still entirely focused on her. And his eyes looked a bit moist. He blinked often. And then sighed.
“My brother found his mate, too. But she is a stick .”
The description was said in a desultory fashion, denigrating fashion models everywhere. Leah’s lips twitched at the instant thought. And then Anso replied, and stole her breath. Her wits. Her voice.
“I think you will find when your mate appears...that no matter what her shape, or height, or coloring...she will be the most beautiful creature in existence.”
Leah’s eyes filled. Athlerod’s features blurred as she blinked back the emotion. Anso so rarely linked many words together, and the ones he’d just spoken filled her with light. Joy. She probably glowed.
“Yeah? Well, she is also treacherous. Worse than a Midgard serpent.”
“Did this happen...recently?” Leah asked in a soft tone.
“ Ja. ”
“Your twin...was always with you, wasn’t he?”
“Again ja. So?”
“Oh, Athlerod. I can help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You were with your twin for over a thousand years, weren’t you?”
“Your mate is very nosy.”
Athlerod turned to address Anso. Leah moved her hands to his head and pulled him back to face her.
“You know. I am about done with male machismo bullshit. This is my psychotic delusion, and I’m running the show.”
His eyebrows rose. Anso choked.
“You are suffering Separation Anxiety Disorder, young man. It is manifesting in anger. And self-hatred. You are actually trying to commit suicide, but you are too weak to do it yourself.”
He stiffened. Anso’s knee flexed to hold him down.
“I am a professional! Get it? I can help. If you make an appointment—”
She didn’t get the rest out. A series of tremors raced through the ground, jostling everything in the room. Leah flew upward. Anso grabbed her waist and yanked her to him. Hugged her tight. Everything stationary became a projectile. Athlerod’s body heaved upward before being jettisoned into the cement blocks that had comprised his pedestal. And then the walls started wavering. Large cracks opened up.
“What in hel ?”
Athlerod sounded more angry than hurt.
“I love you, Leah,” Anso told her.
“What?”
“I told you. We did not have time.”
“What are you telling me now?”
His gaze locked to hers. Her heart dropped.
“Boom,” he replied.
More tremors shook the room. Chunks of debris rained down on them. Anso tucked her into his chest and leaned forward, his body taking blow after blow with an occasional grunt.
“We’re going to die?”
Athlerod yelled the question. His voice was disjointed, as if he yelled from another room.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Anso shouted back.
“No!”
Something large hit Anso, dropping them to the floor. He wrapped his body about Leah, absorbing even more blows. The space darkened by the moment. Grew heavy with dust. It was difficult to breathe.
And then a voice spoke through the destruction happening all about them. A large voice. Deep.
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