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Chapter Ten

A s soon as she crossed the threshold, her steps slowed to a sedate stroll.

With one foot in front of the other, she was reminded of the walks human couples did when courting in the eighteenth century.

Or was it the nineteenth? She couldn’t recall.

However, she did remember her fascination with watching them from afar while always wondering if Hope would ever walk with her in public.

Would he hold her hand? Would he tell everyone that she was ‘his girl’ like the men of that long gone era had?

“What a joke,” she scoffed. “I seriously get closer to utter insanity every damned day.”

“And we love you all the more for it,” Carys chuckled, her voice faraway, a sign that she was deep in thought but still keeping her eye on Hel.

“Mhm,” Hel murmured in response as she sent good thoughts and admiration through the special bond they shared.

Unconsciously reaching out, the goddess ran the jagged tips of the nails of her dead side along the light granite walls with sparkles of silver, gold, and opalescence adding a Magical feel to the décor.

Tactile distraction was something she’d done since childhood.

The need to feel, to absorb, to confirm she was alive when her mind was reeling had always been a comfort, and on this occasion, she needed to more than ever.

Leaning her head toward the wall, she was fascinated by the vibrations in her fingertips as they resonated up her arm.

Then came the rough, grating sounds. For some strange reason the unique and discordant melody reminded her of the bass line of the Viking Folk song, My Mother Told Me , a tune her father changed to My Father Told Me when she was a little girl.

Just hearing the tune conjured one of the happiest memories she had.

Lost to the unique rhythm created by the soles of her feet hitting the floor and her nails going over, in and through every nook and cranny of the massive granite stones that formed the walls of her home, Hel sang the words in old Norse that translated to:

“My father told me

Someday I will buy

Galley with good oars

Sail to distant shores

Stand up on the prow

Noble barque I steer

Steady course to the haven

Hew many foe-men.”

The eerie, haunting tune brought to mind her kinsmen, the mighty Vikings and all they stood for–the legacy.

It was more than a song, it was the story– the history –of the Northmen who sailed the cold Norse waters to feed their families, support their villages, and protect the life their forefathers had fought and died to forge.

These were the men who first paid homage to the Norse Pantheon.

They believed in the Power and Goodwill of the gods and goddesses.

They prayed every day–sometimes every hour–to each and every Deity.

They even sacrificed a percentage of what little they had to ensure good weather, good sailing, and most of all, good health for their families.

Within the rising harmony, her memories eddied and churned bringing the best and happiest to the surface.

Shock, awe, and happiness flashed in the depths of her soul when a single special memory emerged from the fog of her mind.

It was the only time she hadn’t run from Hope.

He been far enough away as not to incite her ‘flight’ response, but close enough for her to see every detail.

And she hadn’t realized it was him even as her heart and soul filled to overflowing with recognition, completion… love.

There he was, her Mate, the one made for her by the Universe, none other than the Omnipotent Being known as Hope. How had she not known it was him from first glance? A question she’d asked herself millions of times over the years, with the only answer being… At least I figured it out quickly….

Smiling, with a twinkle in his cyan eyes, the hue a perfect match for the water filling the jetties on Dreki Island–the last place she visited with her father before accepting her godhead and taking her place in Helheim, it took the goddess a minute to realize that he was looking right at her.

For just a split-second, a flash in time, she’d thought about going to him.

She’d entertained the thought of introducing her Mate to her father and vice versa.

She’d wanted to tell Hopper that she was ready to be the Mate he deserved.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, she took that time to take in the splendor that was the man made for her by the Universe.

If she was honest with herself, which she always was, Hel could admit that she’d ogled Hopper like a high school nerd staring at the quarterback of the football team. It could’ve been a scene from one of those young adult rom coms Charity was always watching.

But Hel would do it again… and again and…

Tall, but not too tall, probably six-foot-two. Yes, it had to be about that since the one time she’d stood beside him for longer than a second, she’d look him in the eye while wearing heels.

The memory of that spectacular day all those centuries ago was magnificent in its detail.

More beautiful than ever, she was lost to the swirling Magic of Hope’s electrically gorgeous eyes.

Falling into his gaze, she saw the darker blue, glittering gray, and smoky white flecks dancing in their depths.

The tick of the huge grandfather clock in the study kept her grounded in the present, as she traveled through the past remembering the darker lowlights running through his golden blond curls and wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

The backs of her fingers tingled with the need to touch his sun-kissed cheeks and caress the stubble on his chiseled jaw.

And those lips. Those beautiful lips. They were quite literally works of art crafted with the loving touch of the Universe, God with capital G, and Mother Nature just for her. It was so hard to believe and nearly incomprehensible that he was truly hers.

“And he always has been,” Carys whispered. “All you have to do is…”

Not wanting to argue, her only desire to remain living in that moment for as long as she could, Hel didn’t acknowledge or respond to the Dragoness. She simply stayed in the memory, waiting for what was to come.

And boy was it worth it.

Eyes sliding from his jaw to the muscled, column of his neck, her mouth watered with the need to press her lips to the steady pulse that beat with unending strength just under the surface.

She wanted nothing more than to mark him as her own.

Nip the tender flesh in the sensual dip between his neck and shoulders, placing the glyph the Universe had fashioned just for them.

Her mind was instantly awash with the sights, sounds, and sensations of Hope responding in kind.

Goosebumps danced up and down her arms as it played like a movie in her mind’s eye.

The slide of his lips across her jaw. The gentle tickle of his tongue tasting and teasing.

The blunt edges of his teeth nipping, preparing her for the bite that would blessedly tie them together for all time.

His smile widened. She was sure of it.

How had she missed that detail all the hundreds, the millions of times she’d relived that brief moment in time? Had she missed her moment? Was it too late?

Had he felt the same way? Why hadn’t she taken the time to find out? Why did she run away like a scared child when she thought he might come her way?

“Because I am the biggest scaredy cat in the entire universe. Because I fear rejection more than failure. Because I have loved that man for as long as I can remember, and my heart will literally crumble if he looked at me with disgust–if he rejected me.”

“But that won’t…”

“Leave it, Carys.”

Shaking her head, pushing everything but the image of her Mate from her mind, the goddess reached for and held onto that beautiful picture with both hands and the single-minded focus for which she was renowned.

She remembered the way the soft plaid cotton of his shirt lay perfectly on his broad shoulders, outlining their lean, sculpted definition, and prominent, rounded musculature that formed a peak at the top of each arm, then tapered smoothly down the sides.

Her eyes fell to his torso and her heart skipped a beat.

There was no doubt in her mind that there was at least a set of six-pack abs under the pearl snap buttons trailing down the center showcasing the sliding taper to his slim hips that created the distinct "V" shape of the swimmers she’d watched during Olympics.

As she reveled in the memory of her Mate, Hel continued to sing.

The melody grew more repetitive and rhythmic.

There was the faintest bright note, a bit of cheer dancing along the simple, minor key harmony.

It was new, fresh, life-affirming. It filled her heart and soul with the zest for life she was certain Hopper possessed.

It was something they had in common. Just like the unwillingness to relent even in the face of certain danger that flowed through the veins of the Vikings she revered.

Those were men, women, and children who simply didn’t know how to lose.

They didn’t give up. They persevered. They made something of themselves.

“They weren’t afraid of rejection or failure. They powered through every situation with a single-minded focus that allowed them to shake off their defeats–to learn from them–and concentrate on the success they simply knew was to come.”

Slowly nodding, feeling a spark, the Light and Magic of the Mating Bond she shared with Hopper growing, shining, beaming, she added, “They became legend. They make me and so many others proud to be from the Northern Lands. They had Hope. Hope that comes from the man who holds my heart and soul in the palm of his hand. He was there for them. Never let them down. Carried them through the hardships and rejoiced in their victories.”