Nothing had changed. At least not outwardly.
Her dark blond hair cascaded over his arm. Her skin was fine and soft, and far too pale for his liking. She was big for a woman at five-ten, but he was still a foot taller. Her lips were slack, but they always tilted upward in a smile whenever she saw him. Didn’t matter if he’d been gone for weeks or months on a trading trip or if he’d been out to tend the animals in the morning.
Only she had looked at him as though he was special, as though he’d been built for more than just war. She’d made him want to be a better man.
And he’d let her down.
Not this time. The vow solidified inside him until it became the very blood that pumped through his veins and powered his heart. It sank into the marrow of his bones. Whatever it took to protect her, he would do it.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. An immovable object, Maccus waited, bare arms crossed over his massive chest, exposing myriad tattoos of knives and ancient blades. His black gaze fell from Bjorn’s face to the woman cradled in his arms. His brows snapped down and a scowl covered his face.
“Who is she?”
Bjorn growled and bared his teeth, his wolf perilously close to the surface. A dagger appeared in Maccus’s hand, manifested from his body, one of his tattoos made real.
He should never have brought Anja here. What had he been thinking? That suddenly the Brotherhood would be warm and welcoming after centuries of them mostly going their different ways?
They’d be more likely to turn against him once they knew who she was. They had women of their own to protect.
He took a step back, keeping Maccus in sight. Yeah, this had been a stupid move. He should’ve run for the hills where he could shift and be at his strongest.
That was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to having. What would he tell her? Hey, I was so angry and out of control after you died that I managed to get Odin’s attention. And guess what? He turned me into a berserker wolf that killed not only everyone who harmed you but their families, too. And I bit anyone who got in my way and turned them into werewolves.
That would not go over well.
But that was a problem for another time. Right now, Maccus was the bigger threat.
“I’ll take her and leave.” All his years of service to the Brotherhood should grant him that much leeway.
“What’s going on?” The female voice broke their standoff. The knife disappeared in a flash, returning to Maccus’s body to become a tattoo once again. He swept one big arm in front of her, stopping his woman from getting between them. What did Maccus think he was going to do? Drop Anja and attack Morrigan?
“You should leave us,” Bjorn said. “Things could get ugly.”
Morrigan ignored him and turned her attention to Maccus. She was likely the only one in creation who didn’t walk in fear of the man. “Who is the woman?” she asked. “She’s hurt and needs attention.”
“It’s complicated,” Maccus began.
Morrigan dragged her fingers through her short cap of red hair, her green eyes flashing. “When isn’t it?” She rubbed her hand on Maccus’s arm. “Whatever is going on, this woman needs help.”
Maccus’s scowl deepened. “I’m going to regret this. Come in. While you’re here, she’s safe. My life would be a living hell if I did anything else.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Morrigan nudged her man. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, a smile twitched at the corners of Bjorn’s mouth. Morrigan led the way into the living room and motioned to the sofa. “Put her down there. We don’t have much in the way of medical supplies, but I can get towels and warm water.”
Maccus raised his hand, staying her before she could leave. “Who is she?”
He went to his knees and laid his precious load gently on the cushions. He brushed her hair back from her face. Raising his head, he met Maccus head-on. “This is Anja— my wife.”
Chapter Three
“I knew you were going to say that. I fucking knew it.” Maccus yanked out his phone, his movements abrupt as he made the call. “Get over here. Now.” He hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket.
Morrigan had her hand on her mouth as she looked from Anja to Bjorn and back again. “How is that possible?”
He grazed the tips of his fingers over her forehead and along her cheek, still not able to believe she was real. As long as he’d lived, he’d never met another woman who’d tugged on his heart, mind, and body in equal measure.
“Might as well wait until Asher gets here so I only have to tell the story once.” Because that’s who Maccus had contacted. There was no one else he’d bring into this situation.
That Anja still hadn’t stirred since she’d passed out worried him. Her heartbeat was strong and steady, which was the only reason he wasn’t totally losing it. She’d been afraid when she’d lost consciousness. The terror in her voice had all his protective instincts heightened.
“She took a gunshot to the upper arm. I’m not sure what happened to her hand.” He wanted to remove the makeshift bandages and inspect the damage but not until he had the proper supplies to deal with her wounds.
Morrigan disappeared down the hall and returned with a warm, wet cloth and a towel. “It’s not much, but at least you can clean away the dirt and excess blood. After you check her injuries, make a list and I’ll get whatever you need.”
Bjorn nodded, unable to look away from his wife’s face. There were no wrinkles on her skin, no gray in her hair. Looking at her, it was hard to believe she’d borne him three children. His gut clenched as their smiling faces rose from the depths of his memories. He prayed they were safe in the afterlife, even if their young lives had ended too soon.
He had so many questions, not the least of which was how she’d gotten here.
“Anja.” He ran his hands over her forearms and the rough material of her tunic. Her clothing was traditional. He hadn’t seen their like outside of a museum or Hollywood in a long time. It suited her wild and untamed spirit, though he had no doubt she’d look right at home in modern clothing. “Wake up.”
Tension grew inside him until he feared it—and he—would snap. Maccus understood the implications of him finding his wife walking around the city, even if Morrigan didn’t.
His wolf was silent, a deadly predator waiting to be unleashed.
The elevator bell chimed. Asher entered with his woman, Jo, beside him. The vampire and vampire hunter were an unlikely pair, but they belonged together. Just as he and Anja did.
“What’s going on?” Asher asked. “We were on our way over for the meeting when I received your rather abrupt…command.”