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  “Midgard might be nice,” Ull mused. “But Odin would never let us take off for four years with everything that is going on. The most we could ask for is two, tops.”

  “Then we get graduate degrees. Or do the undergrad thing and doctor up some transfer papers from one of those Scandinavian universities so we go in as juniors. If you’re up for the trip, I’ll deal with the logistics.”

  “Hei hei.” I heard Gunnar’s deep voice before I saw him. He came into the kitchen wearing his standard black cargoes and a tank top that showcased the results of his twice-daily workouts. He dropped his duffle bag at the door and made a beeline for me. “There’s my girl.” He put both hands on my hips and pulled me into him.

  “Hey, babe.” I smiled. “I missed you.” Gunnar ran his nose along my ear and nipped at the lobe. My eyes rolled back as he kissed his way down my jaw, along my neck, and back up to my mouth. He really was an amazing kisser.

  “We were just talking about a vacation,” Ull said pointedly. “Yes, still here.”

  “Sorry, Ull. Gunnar, sit.” I drew back and kissed Gunnar’s cheek just as the timer beeped. I grabbed my oven mitts and removed the tray. Crossing to the cabinet, I pulled out three glasses and filled them with milk, then brought the cookies to the table. The boys loved this recipe.

  “So where are we going on this vacation?” Gunnar asked through a mouthful of melting chocolate.

  “Midgard.”

  “Oh, Midgard. Fun. Hey, isn’t the chick from Elsker’s prophecy supposed to be there now? Are we going to track her down? Ouch! Why’d you kick me, Inga?” Gunnar looked genuinely surprised.

  So did Ull. Eighteen years ago, our favorite seer, Elsker, predicted Ull’s ideal mate would show up at Cardiff University on Midgard. Every time Ull went into one of his dark moods, I counted down the number of days until her arrival. How my friend could think I’d forgotten about this was beyond me.

  “Is that what this is about?” Ull’s brow furrowed. He was probably adding up years in his head. “Oh, Inga. No. I do not want to meet the human.”

  “Just hear me out,” I pleaded. “All you’ve ever wanted is to have your own family. Elsker said your soul mate would be in Wales next year. You go, you meet her, you fall in love, you have baby gods… everybody wins.”

  “Forget it. Elsker was wrong. I do not have a soul mate. Especially not a human one.”

  Ugh, I hated the sound of grinding teeth. For a formidable killer, Ull could do self-pity like no-one else.

  “No, I won’t forget it. Asgard sucks right now. I’m stuck behind a desk, and you’re about to be God of Doom and Gloom. Why can’t we go to Cardiff, earn a couple more degrees, maybe get you a girlfriend?”

  “That is too much pressure.” Ull stared into his teacup.

  “Just think about it, okay, mate? We all need the vacation. And you don’t have to talk to the girl,” Gunnar urged. He always had my back.

  “I will think about it,” Ull agreed. “That is all I will do.”

  I grinned at Gunnar. It was all the opening I needed.

  Chapter Four

  CARDIFF WAS LOVELY. We’d rented a two-bedroom house off campus and I’d done a bang up job of decorating. Between twenty-four hour home furniture delivery and the miracle of internet shopping, Midgard had gotten so much more civilized since our last visit.

  The human hadn’t shown up, and despite Ull’s protests to the contrary, I knew he was disappointed. We’d come all this way hoping to get a glimpse of the alleged love of his existence, and she was nowhere to be found.

  It was obvious Ull was at his wit’s end three weeks later, when I caught him dodging a crowd of giggling co-eds.

  “Come on.” I pulled my friend away from the hormonal horde. “I have something to show you.”

  “What?” Ull dragged his feet.

  “Stop it. I just got you those shoes.” Ull was going to scuff the exquisite Italian lace-ups I’d picked up on the internet. Shopping on Midgard in the twenty-first century was awesome.

  “They’re shoes, Inga.”

  “They are perfection in leather,” I corrected. “And just walk normally. You’re going to like what I have to show you.”

  “Fine.” Ull followed me into the administration building.

  “Good morning Inga,” called the receptionist. I’d been buttering her up all week.

  “Happy Friday, Bianca.” I smiled. “May I please see that form you showed me?”

  “You know I’m not supposed to release confidential information.” The receptionist glanced over her shoulder, fingering her glossy brown locks. “But, it really is the least I can do after those amazing cookies you brought by yesterday.”

  “It was nothing. Here’s the recipe.” I produced a piece of paper, and the girl’s eyes lit up. Humans were so cute.

  “Oh, thank you! I’m going to make these for my boyfriend this weekend!”

  “He’ll love them,” I promised.

  “I hope so.” She crossed to the counter with a piece of paper. “I’ll just give you a moment with this. If anyone asks—”

  “I know. I found it on the floor and brought it to the counter without looking at it.” I winked as she scurried off.

  “An enrollment form. Great Inga. How does this affect me at all?” Ull checked his watch.

  “Well… have you looked at the form?”

  Ull sighed and glanced at the paper. “New student paperwork. So what?”

  His impatience was beyond frustrating. Was he really that dense? “Ull. Read. The. Form.”

  With an incredibly inappropriate eye roll, he did.

  What happened next was adorable.

  “Come on, doll. You have to tell me what he said.” Gunnar pulled the drapes across the doors that led from our bedroom to the tiny garden. Night fell later as the summer went on, and it was nearly eleven by the time we were done summarizing training sequences, approving attack plans, finishing our homework, and doing the dishes.

  “I can’t.” I put my toothbrush down. “It would embarrass him.”

  “Don’t hold out on me, Andersson. I have ways of making you talk.” Gunnar crossed to the bed and turned down the sheets. He patted the downy white comforter with a look that made my insides glow. “Get over here.”

  My hair whipped back and forth. “No way. That’s not playing fair.”

  “Who said I play fair?” Gunnar’s dimple popped. He strolled to my side, scooped me up in his arms, and carried me to the bed. His biceps flexed with each step, hard muscle pressing against my silky robe. I stroked the stubble of his jaw as we moved, feeling the coarse fibers beneath my fingertips. Gods, I loved it when he forgot to shave. With four long strides, we reached the bed. Gunanr laid me on the Egyptian cotton sheets and positioned himself with one knee on each side of my hips. “Now, cough up the intel, woman.”

  “Forget it.” I tried to shove him away, laughing. But Gunnar was insistent.

  “This could be the best Ull Myhr story ever. And as my wife, your property is my property. Including your epic, mortifying Myhr experiences. If you won’t cough it up, I can resort to a more creative tactic.” He ran both palms along the sides of my ribs with agonizing slowness, firmly pressing the taut muscles beneath. When he got to my chest his eyes glazed over. Gods, he was such a guy. The tips of his fingers grazed the outline of the lacy bra beneath my robe. The light sensation brought a rush of blood, and I could feel my skin swell under his touch. I breathed deeply, arching my back just enough to fill Gunnar’s hand.

  “Faen,” he swore. He squeezed gently, then ripped my robe open.

  “Gunnar!” I squealed.

  He ran his fingers along the lace of my bra. “Dritt. You had to wear the black one.” He lifted his hips and tugged the robe free so I was completely exposed. “With the bloody matching panties,” he complained.

  “You were saying?”

  “I have no helvetes idea.” He dropped his head, and I gasped. His mouth was hot against my stomach. His lips moved a
gainst my abdomen, slowly making their way up to what he dang well knew was my weak spot. When he reached the underwire, I stilled. There was one thing Gunnar Andersson did extremely well. Interrogate. And much as I wanted to keep Ull’s secret, I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to stop this.

  “I’m not talking,” I reiterated. “No matter what you do to me.”

  “Oh no?” Gunnar looked up lazily, the proverbial canary eating cat. He wrapped long fingers around my wrists and held my hands together over my head. Then he brought his nose to the top of my bra, running it along the lace. He exhaled softly as he moved, leaving a cool trail in his wake. My body squirmed at the sensation. With his free hand, he pulled at the fabric. He blew gently on the bare skin, then met my eyes with a smirk. “You sure about that?”

  At the moment, I wasn’t sure of anything. Except that I was very, very happy to be exactly where I was.

  “I’m not talking,” I swore. But the words came on a question, and Gunnar decided he’d won.

  “Sure you’re not.” He lowered his head so his mouth hovered just over my now burning flesh. He let out a breath, and I arched again, willing him to drop his head just an inch lower. I felt him chuckle on top of me; the throaty sound made his torso vibrate. “You have something I want, and I have something you want. How about we work a trade?”

  “No,” I resolved. But my body said otherwise. I twitched beneath him, twisting against his hold in a pointless effort to make contact.

  “No can do, baby. I want intel.” He shifted his hips, and a thousand nerve endings sprung to life. That god could do things to me… Gunnar was clearly stronger than I was, in all the ways that mattered.

  I tried a different tack. I softly raised my chin as I pushed out my lower lip. My eyes widened, and I blinked slowly, tilting my head to the side.

  “Dritt, Inga. That’s not fair.”

  “Who said I play fair?” I threw his words back at him.

  He let out a growl and released my hands. They flew to his hair as I pulled closer.

  “Gunnar,” I moaned.

  “You going to talk yet?” His tongue moved in slow circles against my neck, bringing me to the edge of crazy. My hands fisted in his hair, and I turned my face to the side to bite the pillow.

  “Oh my gods, Gunnar. You’re killing me. Can we please just drop it?”

  “Drop what?” He murmured, lips brushing my ear.

  “Exactly.” I sighed. Then, I grabbed his biceps and closed my eyes.

  And that’s how I kept Ull’s secret. Honorable? Probably not. Effective? Definitely. Because Gunnar never knew Ull picked up the admissions form and stood still for so long, I worried someone might walk in on us. When he finally moved, it was to place the paper on the counter with care. His eyes misted over, and he swiped at them so quickly I wasn’t sure the tears had actually been there. He stood for a long moment staring at his clasped hands. When he looked up, his face was reverent.

  “She’s coming in the fall.” Ull’s voice was so hopeful it nearly broke my heart. He’d been alone for so long. We desperately wanted this for him. For all of us. Gods, I hoped Elsker’s prophecy hadn’t been wrong – there was no way we could weather the fallout. “Kristia Tostenson.” Ull said the human’s name on a breath, projecting hundreds of years of solitude into six tense syllables.

  Oh, Great Odin. It was on.

  THE ELSKER SAGA:

  ELSKER

  Copyright © 2013, ST Bende

  Edited by: Eden Plantz

  Interior Snowflakes by: Eden Plantz

  Cover Art by: Rebecca K. Sterling, Sterling Design Studios

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First publication: 2013, ST Bende

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Back Cover Copy

  Kristia Tostenson prefers Earl Grey to Grey Goose and book clubs to nightclubs, but when she transfers from her one-stoplight town to Cardiff University in Wales she falls in love with Ull Myhr. Her new boyfriend isn’t exactly what she was expecting. He’s an honest-to-goodness Norse God — an immortal assassin fated to die at Ragnarok, the battle destined to destroy Asgard and Earth. Kristia’s crazy visions are the only thing that can save their realms.

  Her orderly life just got very messy.

  Dedication

  To my three boys –

  I wished for you upon a star, and all my dreams came true.

  Acknowledgements

  An enormous thank you to my handsome husband – for choosing me, and being my perfect teammate. Jeg elsker deg.

  Mange takk to our amazing boys, the greatest blessings we could have hoped for. Your unconditional love inspires me daily.

  To my remarkable teachers, Dr. Carnicke and Olaug – thank you for sharing your lessons and your names.

  Much appreciation to my dear friend, Stacey Nash, for championing our gods even on their darkest days. To Gary Rubin and Jacqueline Gardner, for your kind feedback on my very rough drafts. And to my lovely editor, Eden Plantz, who shaped my words with such finesse, and went out of her way to see Ull come to life. Again. Takk.

  Huge gratitude to the RagnaRockstars, for keeping me laughing with your appreciation of #ChurchWaffles, #UllInATightSweater, and all things Gunnar. None of this would have happened without the readers, writers and bloggers who make up the best street team in all the realms. Y’all rock.

  And eternal gratitude to MorMorMa, for making me a part of your family and introducing me to Norsk Waffles. Tusen takk.

  The Prophecy of Ragnarok

  With the death of Balder, the powers of darkness will burst from their tethers. Jotunheim shall crack open; a terrible frost shall suffocate all things good. The great beast will attack, the wicked ship sail, and the light of Asgard will dim evermore. Fire shall consume the earth and Darkness shall swallow the sky. No one, God or Mortal, can survive the travesty of Ragnarok.

  -Prophecy of The Norns

  Chapter One

  I MOVED FASTER THAN a salmon down a chute in bear season. It was my only option. If the giant wolf biting at my heels didn’t kill me, then the tree-trunk of a snake twining between my feet was going to finish the job. I pumped my legs harder, exerting every modicum of strength I had left, and in the process, I stepped on the snake’s head. It hissed, a guttural reverberation bouncing around the darkness. I pushed harder. My chest burned, but I’d managed to put a little space between my attackers and me. The wolf growled angrily, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t spare the movement.

  Since it was pitch black, I couldn’t see what I was running towards, and I certainly didn’t see the fissures beginning to form in the dirt beneath my Nikes. My size six sneaker slid into one and I could hear the crack of my ankle breaking before I hit the damp earth. The chasm was getting bigger and soon my whole leg slipped through. My fingernails clung to the soil as it separated from itself, and I felt the chill creep over the ground as the terrible frost settled like a blanket onto everything it could reach. I started to shake – it would be death by freezing, then. But I knew chilled human wouldn’t be the worst thing the wolf and snake had eaten that day.

  “Earth to Kristia! Hello? Are you even listening?” I rubbed my eyes and focused on the frowning face of my best friend since kindergarten. A sprightly brunette, Ardis was everything I wasn’t –
adventurous, perky, self-confident. And at the moment, highly irritated.

  “Sorry.” I shook off the remnants of last night’s bad dream. Ardis Behrman didn’t often grace our hometown of Nehalem, Oregon. Three hundred residents and a solitary stoplight didn’t hold much excitement for a girl studying acting at NYU. I treasured any conversation we had that didn’t require text or Skype.

  “Vision?” She cocked her head.

  “Hardly. Just tired. Nightmare last night.”

  “The weird one about the animals hunting you down?” Ardis wrinkled her nose.

  “That’s the one.” My favorite grandmother’s dark stories from the North were never far from my subconscious. I never understood how any woman in her right mind could lovingly recount the end of the mythological Norse world to an eight-year-old girl. Mormor always had a wicked sense of humor, so I liked to think her intentions were good. Or maybe she suffered from a touch of the crazy. The fact that, at eighteen, I still had vivid nightmares about Ragnarok; well, that spoke more about my own sensitivities than anything else. They were just stories.

  “That dream’s just creepy, Kristia.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So.” Ardis rested her hands on the table. The metallic blue sparkles on her nails caught the light of the coffee shop where we’d had countless heart-to-hearts. “What’s new in Nehalem?”