Page 138 of Fallen Gods

Suddenly, he’s there, dragging me in by the shirt and slamming the door behind me. At first he looks like he’s going to yell, but when he speaks, it’s in a low growl.

Somehow, that’s even scarier.

“How long have you known?”

I swallow hard. “Only since this morning. Reeve—Lokicornered me in the elevator.”

The silence between us is so thick, I’m now definitely wishing he’d yell.

“You should have told me,” he finally says.

“You’re right. I wanted to.” I could launch into some excuse about bad timing, how he was vulnerable enough already, or how I didn’t want to be the one to hurt him. Or how we were, you know, distracted by mind-blowing sex. But he’s right. I should’ve just blurted it out. He deserved to know.

“I’m sorry.”

Aric’s jaw tightens. His voice drops, low and dangerous. “You think saying ‘sorry’ erases anything?” He shakes his head. “This is what your family does, Rey. Odin imprisoned Laufey. Thor betrayed Alvaldi. You…broke me.” He sighs. “Should’ve seen itcoming a mile away.”

“No! Aric, please—”

“History’s just repeating itself.”

“We’renotthem.”

But he’s stopped listening. “Lure the Giant with love and then take what you want, destroying everything.”

“Stop. Please. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to lose you—”

“Lose me?” He laughs, sharp and humorless. “That’s rich. You don’t give a shit about how this would affect me, only how it could help you.”

“That’s not true. I just panicked because every single moment I’m with you, I fall harder, and I realize I may not be able to do it, Aric! I may not be able to save everyone, and for once I want to be really selfish. I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist!”

His face falls just briefly before he glares. “Well, there’s a replacement Giant on the table now, so—”

His words land like perfect little punches. I move before I think, shoving him hard enough that the icy plaster at his shoulder spiderwebs and a chunk falls away from the wall. He stares down at the pieces, then at me. “Are you kidding me right now?”

He doesn’t care about the plaster. He cares about the lie.

“My turn,” he breathes. In one fluid motion, he reverses our positions, lifting me into the air and pinning me against the icy division. The cold digs into my skin with a sweet, sharp sting.

“That all you’ve got?” I ask with an arched brow.

My hands are on his shoulders, my feet off the ground so we’re eye to eye.

One heartbeat. Another.

I wrap my legs around his waist.

Then his mouth finds mine.

It’s hungry and fierce—all the anger funneled into a kiss that robs me of breath. He bruises and claims, and I can taste thefury on his lips, the pain on his tongue. I claw at his back, fingers finding skin that sparks under my touch. With each press of my hand against a rune, his body hums to life, begging to be set free.

“Still mad?” I gasp when his mouth scorches a trail to my neck.

Aric answers with a series of kisses down my throat, each one more insistent than the last until the urgency becomes undeniable. He moves with me and against me—and before I know what’s happening, our hands are everywhere, ripping, fumbling, clothes sliding to a heap on the floor. Shoes scatter along the way. I’m not looking at the mess. I’m watching his eyes.

They flare white as lightning as we become one. The runes along his spine pulse against my palms, small constellations of light that walk up his back. I feel the hum under my hands, the way the air tastes metallic and sweet, like the edge of something monumental. The edge of an awakening.

It’s not pretty, this surrender.