Bjorn Cursed Read online

  “Not until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She tried to tug her hand from his, but he held fast. “Let me go, Bjorn.” The lights from a nearby flashing neon sign were reflected on her blond hair, giving it a slash of red. It was too much like blood.

  He flashed back to the past—her dark blond hair coated in her blood, her lifeless eyes staring up at him. A shudder went through him. Never again. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  She compressed her lips, and her chin tilted up.

  Damn, he’d forgotten how stubborn she could be when she wanted to. “I can stand here all day.”

  She tugged on her hand again, but he kept ahold of her.

  “Hey, buddy. Let the lady go.”

  He almost rolled his eyes at the Good Samaritan. Where had this guy been last night when she’d been facing three attackers? “Stay out of this.”

  The wind gusted in their direction, giving him a whiff of the guy walking toward them. He was just over six feet tall with broad shoulders, long brown hair, and a thick beard.

  A fucking wolf shifter.

  Bjorn didn’t need this kind of interference. He’d prefer to keep Anja in the dark about that part of him awhile longer, at least until he had her safely away from the city.

  Shoving her behind him, he faced the wolf. She rested her hand on the small of his back. Was it to keep the link with him or to help calm him? Didn’t matter as long as she stayed put.

  “You okay?” The wolf moved to the side so he could see Anja. “If you don’t want to go with him, you don’t have to. I can see you safely into the Starbucks and you can call a cab or someone to come get you.”

  “I’m perfectly safe,” she told him. “Thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary.”

  “You sure? You can come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

  Call him suspicious, but Bjorn didn’t trust the wolf the longer he was near him. There was something not quite right. Some tone in his voice. Excitement. That was it. The guy was hyped up for some reason. He gave a discreet sniff of the air and caught the lightest scent of another wolf.

  “Where’s your friend?” he asked.

  The Samaritan frowned. “What friend?”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” His wolf was growling so low and deep inside him, his entire body was vibrating. This man and his friend were a threat to his mate, to their mate. Because his wolf had also claimed Anja as his own.

  The man’s frown turned into a smirk. “You’re smarter than you look. He’s right behind you.”

  Bjorn angled his body so that Anja was against the wall and no one could come at her from behind. “You don’t want to do this,” he told his adversary. “Walk away.”

  The guy laughed. “I don’t think so, man. You have no idea what you’re facing.”

  Actually, it was the other way around. This guy and his friend had no idea what they were dealing with. As the first Norse werewolf, he had some unique abilities, including masking his scent. His wolf was the ultimate alpha hunter, crouched still and silent, waiting to attack. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than any other werewolf alive.

  “Who are you?” Anja asked. “What do you want?”

  It wasn’t her way to sit back and let another take care of her.

  The Samaritan shrugged. “Your picture is being circulated among certain people. Word is there’s a million-dollar bounty on your head. Me and my buddy were wandering home after a night out and we saw you two playing tug of war on the sidewalk. It caught my eye. Fate has smiled on me. I could use a million bucks. Who’d you piss off, sweetheart?”

  “Odin.”

  Her blunt response made the werewolf frown. The corners of Bjorn’s lips twitched in spite of the tense situation. His Anja would not be intimidated by these men.

  The Samaritan shrugged. “Not sure who that Odin guy is, but as long as his money is good, I don’t care.”

  Bjorn smirked, wondering how the god would feel about that. He’d been hands-off for so long that even this werewolf had no idea who he was. He lived for attention, thrived on it. The whole movie deal these past years had only fed into it. Although he hadn’t liked sharing the spotlight with his sons. But that was Odin. Not exactly father-of-the-year material.

  Not that Bjorn could criticize, considering what had happened to his own children.

  “Odin. You know? The one-eyed Norse god.” Anja smiled sweetly at the guy.

  “You’re crazy, lady.”

  The other wolf came up alongside the Samaritan. They looked enough alike to be brothers or cousins. “You were right. This is the woman in the picture. Lucky for us.” He flashed his fangs at Bjorn and gave a low growl.

  “Is that supposed to scare me?” His wolf was practically smirking, if such a thing were possible.

  Both men frowned, seemingly perplexed by his lack of reaction.

  “Let me guess. I bet that scares a lot of people, maybe even impresses them. You’ll have to do better.”

  The Samaritan frowned. “I’m done fucking around. Give us the woman.”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll take her,” the werewolf continued, completely unaware of the danger facing him. It was a wonder the species had survived if they were all so oblivious. They’d gotten complacent, relying on their superior strength and sharp fangs instead of their intellect.

  The most dangerous weapon in the world had always been and would always be the mind. A thinking warrior was one who lived to fight another day. They weren’t going to back down, were full of their own self-importance, so sure they couldn’t lose in a fight.

  When the Samaritan reached out to grab Anja, Bjorn intercepted him. He wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist and squeezed.

  “What the fuck?” The guy glared, his eyes flashing golden, his fangs dropping. His buddy was getting nervous and glancing around.

  “Oh gods,” Anja gasped, getting her first glimpse at the sharp, elongated teeth.

  Pissed she’d seen it, he applied pressure until the bones in the man’s wrist snapped, which wasn’t easy, since shifter bones were a hell of a lot stronger and thicker than a human’s.

  The guy’s legs buckled. His knees hit the ground, his breathing erratic as he clenched his teeth against the pain. Likely he wanted to howl but had enough of a sense of self-preservation to hold back.

  “Well, what do you plan to do?” Bjorn asked the Samaritan’s friend, keeping his tone light and conversational, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. These two were nothing compared to what he’d faced in his lifetime. They were a nuisance, a speed bump rather than an obstacle.

  The guy held up both hands and took a step back. “Just let him go. We’ll leave.”

  “If I do that, you’ll text that number you mentioned and tell them you saw us in hopes of getting some kind of payment. I can’t have that.” The guy on the ground tried to move, but Bjorn increased the pressure. He went pale and subsided.

  “Take out your phone and your friend’s. Toss them on the ground. Do it now.” They couldn’t afford to make a scene for much longer. Even in New York, someone would either call the cops or they’d drive by.

  The guy quickly got both phones and dropped them.

  “Get them,” he ordered Anja. Most people didn’t memorize numbers but relied on technology. Not that the men wouldn’t be able to get the number again if it had gone out to all werewolves, but this would buy them enough time to get out of town.

  As soon as she’d scooped them up, he released his captive and shoved him back. A police siren gave a whoop and a cruiser pulled in beside them, lights flashing.

  Fuck, he did not need this.

  The one rule they all lived by was to not allow humans to know about them. That would not end well. Paranormals were vastly outnumbered. Their survival hinged on them being nothing more t
han myth and legend. Bjorn was banking on that to keep both men quiet.

  Two officers got out of the car—one blond and white and the other dark-haired and dark-skinned—hands on the butt of their weapons. They were in their thirties, fit and alert. “Is there a problem here?” the blond one asked.

  The Samaritan climbed to his feet and managed a smile for the officers. “No problem. I got a little too fresh with my buddy’s girl.” He gave a shrug.

  Bjorn kept his mouth shut, even though he really wanted to slam his fist down the guy’s throat.

  The officers gave all three men a hard stare. As if by some unspoken signal, the blond officer kept his attention on the men while the dark-haired one spoke with Anja. “You okay, ma’am?”

  “I’m fine. We’re sorry if we bothered anyone.” Her calm and the small smile she gave the officers eased some of the tension. Bjorn was pleased both men were genuinely concerned about her.

  Anja’s hand stroked his butt. It took him a second to realize she wasn’t copping a feel but tucking the confiscated phones away before the police saw them. Then she discreetly tugged down the hem of his T-shirt to cover them.

  “Why don’t you two move along?” the blond cop instructed the troublemakers. “Let your buddy and his girl be on their way.”

  “Sure thing, officer.” The Samaritan smiled at the man. He was still favoring his wrist, but the bone would already be mending.

  Werewolves healed at a phenomenal rate. There were only two sure ways to quickly kill one—decapitation or removing the heart. You could also bleed them out, but that took time, and werewolves were nothing if not resilient. He’d even seen wolves recover from having their neck broken. It had taken a long time, but they’d done it. Anything else would leave you with a wounded, pissed off creature that would hunt you to the ends of the Earth.

  The injured wolf winked at Bjorn before he sauntered down the sidewalk with his friend by his side. “Be seeing you…buddy.”

  This was not over. Not by a long shot.

  Chapter Nine

  The men in the blue uniforms climbed back into their car and drove away. She knew who the police were. She’d spent what little free time she had in the afterlife learning languages and customs from those with knowledge of such things and a willingness to teach her, a practice she was very grateful for now.

  Even with that rudimentary education, the reality of the world was jarring.

  Knowing something and witnessing it were two totally different things.

  “We need to get out of here.” Bjorn grabbed her arm and towed her behind until she picked up her pace and moved up alongside him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Those two are not going to leave us alone.” He glanced over his shoulder, searching the area behind them.

  “You really think they’ll be back?” A million dollars was a fortune, too much money for most men to walk away from. Even she was shocked by how much of a bounty was on her head.

  “Yes. Besides the money, they’re angry, and their pride has been hurt.”

  “But who are they? And why would Odin send them after me? It had to be him. Or maybe it was Freya. She has to know I’m gone.” Sweat beaded on her brow. Her heart beat so hard her chest hurt. She rubbed her hand over the ache, but it didn’t help. “And those weren’t men. Well, they were, but they’re more. They had fangs.” Very sharp, very deadly ones. “Are they vampires, like Asher?”

  Bjorn stopped at a corner, waited until the light changed from red to green and the screen flashed “walk,” before crossing. He kept his body between her and where they’d come from. He was protecting her without thought. It came as natural to him as breathing. It always had.

  “No, they’re not vampires. They’re werewolves.”

  “Werewolves?” Just when she thought the night—or day now, she supposed, since the sun was up—couldn’t get any crazier. “He can change into a wolf?” How could they defend themselves against such creatures?

  “Yes.” He kept scanning the streets.

  “You really expect them to come back?”

  With a shrug, he led her across another intersection, tugging her to a halt when a car cut in front of them without stopping. Just walking the streets of this place was dangerous. Not that it mattered when she had a god after her. And apparently werewolves as well.

  “You broke the man’s wrist.” Odin had indeed changed her husband. She had no idea how much, and it worried her.

  “I wish it had been his neck,” he grumbled. “He’ll heal quickly. Likely already has. Werewolves heal at a phenomenal rate.”

  He had centuries of knowledge she didn’t, in spite of her living in the hall of a goddess. “Have you fought them before? With the Brotherhood?”

  It was easy to see that group going after a rogue werewolf. They were all tough. All deadly in their own right. But how did her husband fit in with a vampire and a fallen angel?

  “Yes, I’ve fought them before.”

  She waited, but he left it at that. When no more information was forthcoming, she pushed. “Why are werewolves after me? Why would Odin involve them and not vampires or demons or whatever else exists in this world?” She really had no idea what other kinds of creatures existed.

  “Because wolves are personal to him. Don’t forget about Geri and Freki. They’re wolves who walk alongside him, just as his ravens Huginn and Muninn accompany the Allfather.”

  Was that the only reason? “Are you saying he created werewolves?”

  “Werewolves, or legends of them, exist in many cultures, older ones than ours, but the Norse wolves are the ones populating the world today. It’s complicated.” Bjorn had to wait as a huge truck with vegetables painted on the side backed into an alleyway. When the truck was only partway on the sidewalk, he guided her around the front. “But basically, they exist because of Odin.”

  “It would make more sense if Fenrir, the eldest son of Loki, was responsible. Both his children are wolves.” She’d never seen either and hoped she never would. They were said to be evil and cruel.

  “Might make more sense, but that’s not how they came into being.”

  All the fine hairs on her arms stood on end and a chill went down her spine. He sounded so sure, as though he was absolutely certain.

  “Bjorn—”

  “Can we discuss this later? We have company.”

  He’d always had a sixth sense about such things. It was one of the reasons he’d been such a fierce warrior. “Where?”

  “Two behind and at least one ahead.” Bjorn jerked his head to the left. “Across the street.”

  She didn’t need him to point out which man he meant. Over six feet tall, he wore jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. He looked similar to the ones who’d accosted them earlier. “Do they all look alike?” she muttered. “Is it a requirement or something?”

  Bjorn’s fingers tightened around hers, but he was smiling, his lips tilted up slightly, his eyes filled with laughter. He hadn’t forgotten for one second they were being stalked and hunted, but he’d always been good at living in the moment. It’s how they’d been raised, as much a part of them as their physical appearance.

  Laugh when you could, cry when you needed, revel in the joys of life, fight for honor and glory, and die well.

  “What can I do?” She would fight alongside her man, no matter what they faced.

  “Stay close. When I tell you to run, you run.”

  “Where are we going?” It bothered her that she had no idea where they were or where they were headed.

  “My truck isn’t much farther. About four blocks up the road. When we get there, turn right. It’s the black one.” He rattled off some letters and numbers. “Crap, can you even read them?”

  “Yes. I have some knowledge of this world. Not everything, but I understand much, including how to read the language.”
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  “Good. The truck will have a piece of metal on the back with those on it. Here are the keys.” He reached into his pocket and pulled them out. “Hit this button when you’re close.” He showed her which one. “That will unlock the doors. Get in, hit this other button, and wait for me. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Got it.” She gripped the keys and put her thumb near the button he’d showed her. Her heart was racing as they kept a fast, steady gait. She wanted to run, but that was the wrong thing to do. Any animal would take that as a challenge, see her as prey, and sprint after her. And these men were essentially animals in human flesh.

  Werewolves? They were the stuff of myth and legend but, like the gods, were real. Their kind never came to Freya’s Hall. Odin was rumored to have all sorts of beasts in Valhalla, but she’d never seen proof, as she’d been unable to leave. That had been part of her pledge to the goddess, which is what made her being here all the worse.

  Her vow had been broken.

  “Another one just ahead.”

  “Should we detour?” She pulled her attention back to the present situation. Her immediate goal—protect her husband.

  “That’s what they want. They’re trying to herd us down that street, which means there are likely more of them. We go straight. They’ll do nothing until we make the turn onto the quieter street. As soon as we do, you run. I’ll hold them off and be right behind you.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “I know.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. It was over far too soon. She licked her lips, wanting to savor his taste. It was familiar yet strangely new. Maybe because of all the years they’d missed. They were both different people than they’d been when they’d wed and started a family, shaped by their experiences. But one thing hadn’t changed. He was still a hunger in her blood.

  He groaned. “Stop looking at me like that, woman. Now is not the time.”

  She knew he was trying to lighten her spirits. Tension radiated from his big frame. He squeezed her hand. “Get ready, Anja. It’s just there on your right.” He kept his voice low. “As soon as we reach the corner, run hard and fast, and don’t look back.”