Page 15 of Delinquent Dette (Empty Nests #7)

Sten

Present Day - The Running of the Drakes

“Fucker!” Torsten kicked and shook his leg as a rather amorous, angry, and violent gander attacked his leg. “I was just trying to pet her!”

Frikka snorted and laughed, his whole body aflame with joy and delight. Sten had never seen Frikka so free as he’d been the past few months.

“That’s what Leif said before I broke his leg the last time he gave Frikka the eye hump!” Sten couldn’t help the little puff of pride in his chest at having his family all in one place again.

Sten’s phone rang as he sighed in utter contentment, Sile’s number patching in.

The Drakes had all gotten permission to gather for the running and even a few single Dettes had agreed to attend—since Marc’s heat suppressants were proving very effective, a heat with a Drake was less taboo than it once had been.

“Do not tell me you want to run, too?” Sten listened to the silence as Sile caught up to what he said. It often was that way. The Drake was never prepared for what came from his mouth.

“Well, actually, yes. Shui wants to participate.”

In the background, a gleeful shout from his mate caught Sten’s ear. Fuck, yes! This is like the hatching day where I get much railed!

Sile gasped and whispered sharply, “Shui! Who taught you that word?”

Leo. As if it weren’t obvious.

Sile swore in Mandarin and they fussed at one another for a moment. “Ayaaaa, Zhaidan!”

Their word for Dette was egg hermit , which Sten found endlessly amusing.

Stupid Shijun! Sten lost track of what was being said the moment Shui started insinuating that he would be the one mounting Sile if he got half a chance. And honestly? Good for him.

“We start at dusk. Feel free to come over.” Sten moved his thumb to hang up and earned a cough of rebut. “There something else? I can forget I heard all the commotion of Shui fucking you?”

“No, no, no. Tell everyone. I like people thinking I have adventurous sex quite often, but that is not why I called. It is a little more complex. Fjallarr Nidhogg showed up this morning and is finishing his paperwork. He petitioned to see his great grandson—as well as his son.” Sile coughed again as Sten’s heart skipped a beat.

“Which son? Frikka has no father, so it cannot be Jarl Fjallarr.” Sten snorted and gave Frikka a sidelong glance.

“Let him come. He can see my beautiful pups all grown, my yard full of rare nestblossoms, my horny geese, and my mountain of grandchildren.” Frikka flopped back into the grass and closed his eyes.

“I heard that. What is he on? Is Marc feeding him drugs?” Sile’s comment earned a snort from Frikka. Dragon hearing was no joke. He might as well have had his phone on speaker.

“Nestblossoms are wonderful. That oil Hallr refined has made me quite calm. There is nothing the jarl can do to me here. His words cannot sting. I have my mate, my pups, a beautiful home. My mate is wealthy and my family seats a council.” Frikka rolled onto his front and scooted up, resting his head in Sten’s lap.

“He may come, but nothing will stop me from running with the Drakes once more.”

“You heard him?” Sten stroked over Frikka’s fair hair.

“I heard him. Just make sure he doesn’t have anything sharp…or blunt. Or poisonous.” Sile grumbled as Frikka brightened. “Or electrical! For fuck’s sake, that was so hard to explain to the Brazilian consulate.”

Frikka wilted, brow furrowing. “What about—”

“No! I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking of. Do not murder the jarl,” Sile growled on the other end.

Sten eyed Frikka as Sile muttered in the background about the Drake that allegedly committed fatal autoerotic toaster asphyxiation after stabbing himself two hundred and eighty-six times with a broken mead bottle.

“Two-hundred and ninety-four, ” Frikka corrected.

Sten pursed his lips. Personally, he’d have lost count.

“Look, my due diligence is done. I warned you. Goodbye.” Sile slammed his phone down, swore, and then hung up, likely forgetting you couldn’t slam a phone receiver down with a cellphone. Sten missed that.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, but it wasn’t Jarl Fjallarr.

Hallr pushed his way in right after, welcome to trespass into their home.

Sitting on his hip was a little imperious child with a smattering of freckles and a mess of strawberry-blond hair.

“I know you guys are having the sex-run thing soon, but I was told to show up here with Luka.”

Hallr waved a hand as he marched through and found Torsten, who was still glaring at Willy. “Here, take your nephew.”

Torsten took Luka. They stared at one another with equal contempt. “You’re not going to do a poo on me, are you?”

“No. I know how to use a potty.” Luka rolled his eyes.

“Good. Why am I holding you?”

“I don’t want to see Grandfar Fjallarr and if he puts me down, I run as fast as I can.” Luka sniffed and rubbed at his pink nose.

“You’re a smart boy.” Torsten nodded.

“Not fast enough, though.” He pouted, and Hallr gave him a stern look.

Frikka sat up, running fingers through his mane of hair, a grin stretching wide across his face. “Do not worry, little one. He probably wants to invite you to be Nidhogg once more.”

“But I don’t want to be Nidhogg. I’m Nielsen!” Luka reached his hands out, and Frikka swaggered by to take him from Torsten. He didn’t put him down, though.

“I made that decision a long time ago, little one. I was Nidhogg, but I chose Nielsen. Our Dettes were freer than most, but as a jarl’s son, I was kept as property.

” Frikka gave Luka a hug. “I chose to be free, and your grandpa Sten stole me away. We made the long trip with your father and uncles while they were still just eggs.”

Luka listened, eyes wide. “Why did you leave? You could have stayed and been a free Nielsen.”

Frikka’s face fell as he pursed his lips. “Because a long time ago, a Drake who wanted me but could not have me, destroyed my nest and turned my six eggs to just five. We had to say goodbye to a pup before they even hatched.”

Luka’s bottom lip poked out as if he were about to cry.

“But times were different. Things weren’t as safe.

Dettes lost eggs often. I lost more eggs when our house collapsed years later.

And I was angry, so I made a lot of trouble.

” Frikka held Luka to him, resting his nose against the little frightened boy’s head.

“But we learn. We learn to live, to love, to move on, and do better. I’m still sad. ”

Luka sniffed and laid his head to Frikka’s chest. “But you killed all the bad men!”

“I did. I killed many bad Drakes. I killed Drakes that were bad to me and others that were bad to Dettes. It didn’t heal me.” Frikka swayed in place, letting Luka calm himself as much as Frikka calmed, too. “But you know what made me happier than killing?”

Luka shook his head.

“Seeing all the life that came from it. If I hadn’t lost an egg, then I’d have never come to the new world.

Hallr would have never found your papa, or nestblossoms, or freed all the Dettes.

You would have never been born. Gabriel would never have come back.

Sometimes, sad things happen. They do not happen for reasons, but this is the path we walked, and this is where it led us.

” Frikka kissed the top of Luka’s head. “But, it makes me happy when you say you’ll do better than the Drakes before you. ”

“I’ll do lots better.” Luka cheered up, smiling as Frikka toted him over to play in the fountain.

Sometime later, the doorbell rang again, and Sten stared down the jarl who gazed back at him with something like regret.

With him was Torfi Nidhogg, a rather aloof Dette with light-brown hair and green eyes.

He held a lot of Frikka’s features, being his Dette father.

“We were told to expect you. I apologize for the lack of hospitality, but the notice was short and our plans for the evening are in the next few hours.”

Fjallarr nodded once as Torfi followed him in. Fjallarr didn’t give the home a second glance, only walked the way Sten directed. Fjallarr never was one for small talk or details, so when he spoke, Sten stopped mid-step. “You’ve done well for a Nielsen.”

“Our entire family has. Frikka has done well for himself, too.” Sten gestured with his marked hand, earning a second glance at it. Fjallarr nodded once before pulling the neck of his crisp shirt down, showing off a small mark of his own. He’d mated Torfi. “When did this happen?”

“After your son—my grandson sent us nestblossoms. We need to thank him.” Fjallarr cleared his throat and nudged Torfi, who nodded and offered a smile that made his face far prettier.

“Claiming them as blood?” Sten raised a brow and gestured them through their home.

“I never officially dishonored Frikka. As a volur, I could not dishonor him. The gothar forbade it.” Fjallarr kept a straight face.

Torfi rested a hand on Fjallarr’s shoulder. “I threatened to leave him when he let Frikka leave. I may not be a warm Dette to my pups, but I care for them. I refused to allow him to dishonor Frikka, only allow his name change to his mate’s.”

“I was never his mate. Not until recent.” Sten fought the urge to sneer, but it was so hard.

“When a volur mates, they lose their gift. So you were mates in all but mark, I think. The gods pushed you together, did they not?” Torfi blinked when Sten froze, his heart skipping a beat.

“He told me that… He didn’t say he lost the gift.” Sten’s breath caught. Frikka had seen disaster time and time again, but the madness of seeing it made him what he was. The peace he held without it…

“It must mean there is a new volur. I would hazard to guess one of the Nielsen pups is quite skilled at his wild magic.” Torfi patted Fjallarr’s shoulder.

Cinder…