Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5) (16 page)

“Aye, I’m stumped,” a black-haired, Scottish witch said. “It sounds a bit like what Caleoden the Brave once did with the knowledge he trapped inside his tomb, but that was a specific place that he put a spell on. This is a spell inherent to the knowledge itself, which is above my pay grade.”

The other two witches, who’d had to drink three cups of conjured coffee to become truly sentient, offered their regrets.

“Damn,” Sylvi said. “I really thought you would know something.”

“Normally, we would. But you’ve got a real mystery there.”

“Thanks anyway,” Sylvi said.
 

He followed her out the door and down the garden path.
 

It took them the rest of the day to track down the other two people that Sylvi wanted to talk to. Lea, the Historian, wasn’t hard to find. But Aerten, the Celtic goddess of fate, was a tricky matter that required Vivienne to visit the Celtic afterworld to retrieve her.

Neither had known anything. It was unexpected and very, very bad. Sylvi had been fidgety all day, her anxiety clear through her movements. By the time Aerten had told them she knew nothing, Sylvi’s gaze showed the strain that Logan felt.

“I was convinced someone would have an idea,” Sylvi said as they walked back to her cottage. The worry that had been missing from her voice the night before was very evident now. She’d drawn her staff from the aether and was squeezing it with a white-knuckled grip.

“We’re running out of time,” he said as he held the door to her cottage open for her and she slipped through. As soon as he shut it behind them, he shed his false face and settled comfortably back into his original visage. He’d worn different identities for so long that resuming the face he’d been born with felt strange, but welcome.

“I know we are,” Sylvi said.

“And it became clear today, from the sheer size of this place, that there could be an enormous number of betrayers.”

“I know, all right?” She shoved a hand through her hair and paced the room. Tension radiated from her. “I’ll figure this out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet!” She continued to pace, a short back and forth line in front of the hearth.

“You could ask your mother. She would know.” He sure as hell didn’t like Freya, but as goddess of magic and the mother of all Vala, she was damned good with spells and enchantments.

“No! No way. Did I ask for her help when you kicked me out? When I was starving and freezing in Norway and had no idea how to survive on Midgard?” she asked, using the old Norse word for earth. “No, I did not. I didn’t then and I never have. I never will.” Her chest was heaving and her jaw was set.

“Have you even seen your mother since we left Asgard?”

“You mean, since we were kicked out of Asgard? No. She’s attempted to contact me a few times, but no, I have not.”

Though he liked the idea of Freya not getting what she wanted, he couldn’t help but think that contact with her mother might do Sylvi some good. “Perhaps she was trying to apologize?”

“For kicking me out of my home? She should have tried harder to keep me there. She’s one of the Aesir. Her power is rivaled by few. She could have overturned my eviction.” Behind the anger on her face, he could see pain. Whatever he had against Freya didn’t extend to him wanting Sylvi to hurt. And she did hurt. More than he’d realized. It was starting to make him feel ill, to think of what their past had done to her.

He’d made the right choice in rejecting her all those years ago, right?

Of course he had.

“She’s powerful, Sylvi, but no god is
all
-powerful. Your mother couldn’t overturn your fate once you’d been evicted from Asgard, not if all the other gods were against her.” He’d never met anyone as stubbornly unforgiving as Sylvi. It was hurting her more than protecting her.

“Fates, I can’t handle this right now.” Sylvi spun on her heel and stormed off.

Sylvi stomped into the kitchen and yanked open the pantry in the corner. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light and dusk was already falling, so she had to poke around in the gloom until she found the slender glass bottle. She yanked it down and poured an inch of the whiskey into a chipped glass tumbler.

One sip revealed that it wasn’t what she was looking for. All the whiskey in the world wouldn’t help her at this point. She thrust it aside with a disgusted sigh.
 

Damn it, Logan was really getting to her. He was pointing out all the things she didn’t want to think about—her mother, the problem with the knowledge trapped in her staff, her attraction to
him.

It shook her up. The first two were bad enough, but she kept thinking about what he’d said last night. He wanted her back. He wanted her to use him for her magic.

She’d been pushing it out of her mind as an unviable option. It was a truly terrible idea and staying away from Logan was the only smart thing to do. She
knew
that. No matter how badly she wanted him—and she did want him very badly, if she were honest with herself—it was a stupid idea.
 

Their past was proof that it was a dumb idea. He had hurt her too badly and could very well do it again. She was being smart in this lifetime—looking out for her own best interests in the long term, no matter what her hormones made her want to do in the present.

But her thoughts turned toward Logan at every spare moment. They had for centuries, anytime she was feeling weak or nostalgic.

They’d had some truly excellent times, as long as she didn’t think about how it had all ended. If she could just have the good times without the bad that would inevitably come…

“Are you all right?”

She spun at the sound of Logan’s voice. He stood in doorway, blocking out most of the light from the living room.

“I’m fine.”

“That whiskey says otherwise.”

She glanced down at her untouched glass. “What? Sometimes I like to sit in my dark kitchen and drink liquor alone.”

“How about you pour me one? That way you’re not drinking alone.”

He wanted to keep her company while she was feeling shitty? She kind of liked that. She got up to grab another glass. He was sitting at the table when she returned. She pushed the glass and bottle across the table so that he could pour his own.

They sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke. “I meant it when I said I wanted you. I do.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You’re tough, beautiful, smart.”

“If I were so smart, I’d ignore you.” She sipped her whiskey. The tension in the air was so thick she swore it felt like waves lapping at the shore. It made heat coil low in her belly.

He leaned forward, his voice dark and deep. “You could be smart and use me to get the power necessary to access the knowledge in your staff. Use me for your magic.”

“So this is just for the knowledge then?”

He chuckled. “Oh, no. If you wanted to be with me, no magic included, I’d sign up in a heartbeat.”

“So you’re just trying to win me over by telling me how good it would be for my magic?”
 

“I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
 

She liked that idea. More than that, she liked the heat in his gaze. She wanted to ignore all her misgivings.

Perhaps she could be with him if there were firm expectations and restrictions on what went on between them. Using him for her magic was the perfect excuse.

She’d found a pretty good loophole. And she really did have no idea how to access the knowledge within the staff. Being with him under these pretenses was a bit of a lie to herself and a lie to him—that she was only being intimate with him for the magic—but she could believe it as long as she put in a little effort. She was already believing it, in fact.

She’d just have a taste of him and stop herself before she went too far. She didn’t need to actually have sex with him to get the benefit. As long as she made him come, it would work. No emotional involvement. Her heart would stay her own.
 

If they didn’t have full sex, she wouldn’t even need birth control since Mytheans couldn’t carry disease.

“Are you all right?” Logan asked.

“Um, yeah.” She nodded, trying to play it cool. But how could she, given what she’d just decided? She took a running start off the cliff of stupidity and said, “I’m going to take you up on your offer. For my magic.”

“Okay,” Logan’s voice was rough.

She looked up to see him watching her with blazing midnight eyes. His fists were clenched on the table and his entire body was taut. She swallowed hard.

“There have to be some restrictions, though,” she said.
 

“All right.” He unclenched his hands and laid them flat on the table. She watched avidly as his long fingers stretched out on the wood. He had strong hands. And if he touched her with them, she’d utterly lose it.

“You can’t touch me,” she said.

“What?” His voice was sharp with disappointment.

“Seriously. You can’t. And I’m not going to come.” She couldn’t have all those feelings, all the lovely endorphins, and still keep her mind separate. If she had an orgasm, she’d end up a pile of messy emotions right afterward and then she’d really be in trouble. She’d just have some pleasure, but not all of it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“That’s a terrible idea,” Logan said. “I saw what you were like last time. You were miserable. How long does that last?”

She shivered a little at the thought. “A while. I’ve done it before when I needed the magic but didn’t really like my partner. I can take care of myself.”

When she didn’t really like her partner? Where had she been that she’d been desperate enough to use herself like that?

“Don’t feel sorry for me!” Her voice was sharp. “I see it in your face.
Don’t
pity me. My choices were my own and I’m content with them.”

He hated the idea that her life had brought her to that point, no matter how far in the past it had been. When he’d kicked her out of his life, he’d put her in that position. It was his damn fault.
 

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I’ll be fine.” She bit off the words. “We do it my way or not at all. You can’t touch me, and we don’t go all the way. I make you come, then I use the magic to unlock the knowledge and you leave me alone.”

Her gaze was so hard it was clear she wouldn’t budge. This was by no means perfect. He wanted her all to himself, unbound by restrictions. He wanted to be able to touch her and taste her and bury himself within her heat. To feel her clench around him. But the best he could get was her rules.

He would take it.

“All right,” he said. “However you need me.”

“Good. Go into the bedroom.” Her voice brooked no arguments. This was not the Sylvi he’d last been with when they’d both been inexperienced and naive. They were both different now.
 

He got up and preceeded her into the small room, ducking beneath the low doorway. Old houses weren’t built for a god’s height. She followed him in, not bothering to turn on the lights. The illumination from the hall spilled into the room, highlighting a moderately sized four poster bed, end tables, and dresser.

“Strip,” she said.

Holy shit, she was giving him orders. His cock got hard at the thought just as his mind rebelled that he didn’t take orders from women in the bedroom. But he yanked the shirt over his head and set to work on his fly. Clearly, he was wrong. It was just that the right woman hadn’t yet tried to boss him around.

Soon, he stood before her, naked and hard as a post. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her eyes raced over him and her lips parted. His shoulders went back involuntarily.
 

“On the bed.” Her voice was now hoarse, the businesslike edge shaved off.

He lay down and watched her go to the dresser and dig around in the top drawer. When she turned to him, she held a number of silky scarves in her hand. Her eyes glinted.

His cock throbbed and his breath grew short. “What the hell?”

“So that you can’t touch me. Arms above your head.”

He swallowed and put them up near the posts, his eyes glued to her as she walked slowly toward him. The contrast of his nakedness and her clothed form only added to the tension. She tied his left wrist, her hands quick on the silk. Instead of walking around the bed to tie the other, she leaned over him until his lungs filled with her sweet scent.