Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I storm into the building a few steps behind her, only to curse as a massive gray wolf slinks out of the shadows, surprising the hell out of me. Where the fuck did he come from? I didn't even know there were any wolves left in Valhalla. We certainly haven't seen them since we came through the Bifröst.
"Stop," I growl, hooking an arm around Kara's waist to haul her back against my chest as she takes a step in the animal's direction. I eye it warily, checking for any hint that it's been twisted and demented like the Forsaken's little varulv lapdogs, but find none.
He's not one of theirs.
"Let me go." Kara stomps on my foot and then squirms out of my arms, dropping to her knees in front of me.
My dick throbs as if he thinks he's getting attention, but she doesn't even look in my direction as she holds her arms out to the animal, a bright smile stretched across her beautiful face.
The wolf looks at me with contempt before padding toward her.
I drop my hand to the ímun-laukr in a scabbard on my hip, watching warily as the animal strolls right up to her and allows her to wrap an arm around his massive shoulders in a hug.
He looks at me again, patient acceptance and intelligence shining in his eyes.
"Be careful, Valkyrie," I warn Kara anyway, not convinced this is a good idea in any way, shape, or form.
"He's my friend," she responds, glancing over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and soft. "He's been coming to see me for the last few days."
How the fuck did I miss her frolicking with a giant wolf?
"Where the fuck did he come from?"
"Here." She shrugs like that should explain everything. "The Jötunn and the Forsaken didn't kill the wolves, just like they didn't kill the ravens or the rabbits. They've been here the whole time, reclaiming the land just like nature." She scratches the animal's ears, whispering to him.
I watch her, awed at how fearless she is…and how sweet. Gods, I'm in awe of her in general. Each of the Valkyrie have their own strength, their own set of skills. But there's something about this one and the way she walks between worlds, able to communicate with animals in a way no one else can, that's fascinating to me.
It's almost as if she sees them as equals. Sometimes, I think she prefers their company to that of her sisters or the Fae. I just haven't quite worked out why yet. Because she's still grieving the loss of her family? Because she misses home? I don't know. She holds her cards close to her chest, not sharing much. But when she's out here, away from the eyes of the Fae, she seems more like herself than ever. More at peace than when she's surrounded by the Fae.
I watch her and the wolf for several long moments, letting her soft voice wash over me. Every so often, she tilts her head toward the animal as if she's listening to him. It's almost as if they're having a conversation, yet no sound escapes him, and she speaks only a few words here and there.
I've watched her do the same thing with the ravens and rabbits she stumbles across when she's out here, but I never intruded. The one time I got a little too close, her rabbit friend bolted into the underbrush, causing her to glare daggers at me. I quickly decided not to do that again. But I am curious…
"What's he saying?" I finally ask.
She smiles up at me, her eyes bright. "He's telling me about his day and the rabbit he hunted," she says. "He's grumpy because it got away."
The wolf huffs as if he understands her.
"What's his name?"
"It's not something that can be pronounced. It's more…a feeling." She pauses, her brows furrowed as she tries to explain. "But it means descended from the Great Ones," she says. "He says his ancestors were like royalty here. He's very proud. I call him Ing. It means ancestor."
"Ing," I repeat, both eyes on the wolf.
The animal growls faintly as if responding to the name.
Kara smiles, scratching his ears. It may be my imagination, but it looks like the wolf smirks at me. Does he know how I feel about her? Can he?
Hell, how would I know? I've never spoken to a wolf before.
"What's it like? Speaking to them, I mean?"
"Different," she says, her brows furrowed. "They don't really think like we do or communicate like we do. It's more…images? Sensations? I'm not sure how to explain it. They're more cohesive with some species than others, like they're putting them together to form sentences." A soft laugh spills from her lips. "Ravens can be frustrating. They like to joke and play. They're incredibly smart, but they don't take much seriously. Rabbits are calmer, but sassy. They like to gossip."