Page 26 of Fallen Gods

There’s a strong scent of cedar and fresh rain in his room. I try to stop myself but can’t help but inhale the addicting aroma. It smells like a home I’ve never belonged to and will never know. That’s an intrusive thought I prefer not to dwell on, but dammit, it doesn’t stop me from taking another deep breath and savoring the smell.

Why isthatwhat I fixate on? I shake it off. It’s probably some obscenely expensive designer cologne, and I’m just another person falling for his pheromones.

I glance around the dark room, noting how everything is meticulously placed—his shelves lined with at least thirty books, his bed immaculately made.

I need to know his interests so they become my interests. Karate? Cool, I can join. Run club? I’d rather not, but I’ll suffer to get this over with.

If I’m right, I’ll need to wake him up.

Odinfather didn’t admit as much outright, but I suspect that he no longer has the power to wake someone from stasis. That he needs me. That his powers are waning. How much, he’ll never tell any of us, but it must be dire.

It’s my job to pull Aric out of whatever stasis he’s in, since his memory of Mjölnir’s location would be on lockdown. And if I’mgoing to break that kind of God-tier stasis, I need to understand what keeps Aric standing in the first place.

What he clings to. What he hides. What he’s willing to bleed for.

I haven’t let myself plan much further than that.

Seduce? Marry? Kill?

I laugh at my own joke. I can’t kill him. Marrying him is even funnier, and seduction? He’d hold a knife to my throat.

Good thing I brought my own.

I flash my phone light around the sparsely decorated room. He has a beanbag in the corner that looks like it’s never been sat on. I plop down, put a piece of gum in my mouth, and assess his bookshelf.

He has a few books about architecture and behavioral science. Several history tomes. A whole shelf of classics. I refuse to respect him more just because I see Virginia Woolf.

I get up, walking over to the poster he has up on his wall. It’s a picture of the sea. Fitting. I bet he wants to return and has no idea why.

“You were born of the sea and forests.” I tap the colorful image with my finger and move on to his closet. “It’s only natural to be drawn to them.”

With a sigh, I run my gloved hand over his sweatshirts and pants, his loafers and hiking boots, then bring a T-shirt to my face and inhale.

Forest. Mist. Fire. Water.

Got it.

I may not have a ton of power, other than influencing people’s emotions, but my sense of smell is amazing.

I tuck the shirt under my arm and keep looking around.

Would he be drawn to the hammer’s hiding place the same way he’s drawn to the sea?

I slowly walk toward his desk when footsteps sound, along withAric’s familiar voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. I just forgot my book and wallet again. You know, the whole purpose of me coming up here last time,” he calls.

“Hurry up!” Reeve whines. “I’m starving.”

Shit.Short run, apparently.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I don’t even think. I just duck down, his shirt still clutched in my hand, and roll under his bed. Good thing he actually makes it. The comforter hangs just low enough to hide me.

I pat my waist to make sure my knife is handy. Just in case.

“You’re always starving,” Aric yells back. He’s close.

I’ll need to acclimate to his hypnotic voice. Damn, maybe that’s his superpower. Except…do Giants even have any sort of powers, other than strength? The gaping chasm of what I know about Gods versus Giants has never seemed wider. Fuck you, Odin, for not preparing me better.