With wet panties? Not really. She crawled under the covers, his near-nudity almost distracting her from the pain of her movements.
He went to the other side of the bed, settling in next to her.
“What are you doing?”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Going to bed.”
She had the feeling that if she tried to kick him out she’d have an argument on her hands. And, really, did she want to kick him out? She eyed his powerful shoulders. Could she kick him out? The man was a god. Was he into the whole divine retribution thing? She said nothing as he pulled the covers up, but she could feel him watching her. He propped the pillows behind his head, sitting up partially. “Okay. Talk.”
Now that he was staring at her, ready to answer her questions, she had no idea where to start.
He smiled. “Yes, I’m really Tyr. Over a millennium ago, Odin declared war on the Vanir. I thought at the time that what he was after were the skills of the Dökk Alfar, but what he was really after was Idunn and her apples. If I’d known then what I know now, Odin and his Aesir would never have laid a single hand on them. I would have burned them to the ground myself.”
“What do the apples do? I mean, why are they so important to him?” She rolled over, resting her head on her arm, watching him.
“The apples make even the gods susceptible to suggestion. Combined with Odin’s own ability to confuse the mind, they made him nearly irresistible. He used them to control the remaining Vanir, the Lios and Dökk Alfar and the Aesir. He had us all convinced that Idunn’s apples were necessary to our immortality. I knew better, deep down, but I couldn’t break the hold Grimm had on me. None of us could.”
“Not until that huge fight the two of you had.”
He nodded. “No way was I selling Guardian Investigations to him.” He frowned, then shook his head.
“I’m not even sure why I was resistant to him, but I avoided him after that, even going so far as to ignore his calls. If I hadn’t, odds are good that when I saw Logan and Kir again, I would have tried to kill them both.”
She bit her lip, thinking about everything she’d learned. “Why did you kiss me?”
He leaned over her, brushing his lips against hers. She had the urge to cup his cheek and rub her palm over his whiskers. “If it hadn’t been for my fight with Grimm I would have come after you a lot sooner.”
He was so close she could see the specks of gold in his blue eyes. “Travis, what the hell are you talking about?” She frowned, confused. “Or should I call you Tyr?”
“Travis. At least for now.”
“Oh. Planning on a name change soon?”
“At some point Travis Yardley-Rudiger will die, and I’ll become someone else.”
“You’ll come up with a different name, right? Oh! How about Timothy, um, Inigo Walter, uh,” she counted off on her fingers, trying to remember all the letters “Anson Zebediah?” She grinned up at him.
A slow grin took over Travis’s face. “That’s worse than what I’ve got now.”
“Really, brain surgeon? Who came up with it?”
He crossed his eyes and raspberried her. She laughed. It was weird, but he was still Travis, even after everything he’d told her and shown her. Knowing that he was pretty much the same man she’d always known helped relax some of the tension that had been tightening her shoulders and back.
Even so, it wasn’t her fault if the laughter had a slightly hysterical edge to it, was it?
“Now what are you doing?” She watched in fascination as he reached under the sheet and pulled off his boxers. He managed to do it without flashing her too, something she wasn’t sure she was all that happy about.
“Getting ready to go to sleep.”
She stared at him. “I thought that was what you were doing when you took your clothes off and made yourself comfortable in my bed.”
“I sleep naked.”
Ho, Daddy. “Not in my bed.” She knew it was panic speaking, but still.
“You’d be more comfortable naked too, you know.”
Her inner slut was nodding, yes yes yes! But common sense was shouting, hell, no! “I’d be more comfortable with your clothes back on.”
He settled down, lying next to her with a smirk. “I promise to peek if you promise to peek.”
“Shouldn’t that be not peek?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Travis.” She glared at him, wanting him to be serious for just a moment.
He snickered. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. You need your rest.” He settled in, pulling the sheet up to mid-chest before reaching for her. She allowed him to pull her close into his body, too stunned to protest.
Her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to send them walkabout on the incredible landscape hidden by one thin piece of cotton. He settled her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her, his hand resting on the curve of her ass. Without thinking she curled her leg, covering his thigh. She shivered at the warmth of his bare skin.
“Comfy?”
His voice sounded strangled. She frowned, adjusting her leg slightly when it pained her. He groaned and tightened his hand on her ass. She looked up into his face.
The heat in his gaze threatened to burn her. He propped himself up, rolling her over in the process, and proceeded to take her mouth in a kiss so fierce their teeth clashed.
She moaned when his hand stroked her side, taking her breast, weighing it in his palm before his thumb stroked over the aching tip. She arched up against him only to pull away, gasping. Pain wracked her body and she gritted her teeth. Every muscle in her abused back had begun to spasm all at once and the agony was blinding.
“Logan!” Travis’s shout echoed off the walls, sounding like it came from everywhere at once.
“Shit! What?” Logan threw the door open and rushed to her side. “What did you do to her?”
Travis scowled at Logan. “I moved.”
“Maybe you should go back to sleeping on the couch.”
Travis snarled, “Fuck no.”
“Boys.” The two men turned to her. “Ow.” She really wanted to be a man about it, but the pain was excruciating. She couldn’t stop the tears that dripped down her cheeks.
“Sweetheart.” Travis stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“Fuck that.” Logan left the room, returning swiftly with a knife. “Give me your hand.”
“What?” She stared at the knife in his hands, wondering what he had planned. Cutting off a finger?
Give her some other pain to focus on, perhaps?
Maybe he was just really crazy.
“Are you sure about this?”
Logan was staring at her, ignoring Travis. “Trust me, Pita. Give me your hand.”
Travis sat up, balancing on his stump. He grimaced when she groaned as even that careful movement jostled her. “If we’re doing this I’m going first. No argument.” He held up his hand, not even wincing when Logan sliced his palm.
“Now you.” Logan took her hand, ignoring her feeble attempts to pull free. He sliced her palm. The pain was minor compared to the one in her back and leg.
Logan took her hand and placed it in Travis’s, palm to palm, wound to wound.
The pain receded as warmth raced up her arm from her palm, straight into her chest. She felt filled with light, glowing inside, surrounded, protected by the light in a way she’d never before experienced. The glow suffused her skin, embracing her in its warmth, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort and strength. It was the same sensation she got when Travis pulled her into his arms; warmth, comfort and that little tingle of awareness only he gave her, amplified. It was like she was breathing his living light.