Once again Fenrisson’s jaw clenched. But this time his teeth squeezed so tight, he found himself unable to open his mouth to issue further apology. He could apologize for the shame, for turning wolf like a pup untrained—but he could not apologize for the killing.
“Did you make this killing for a true reason?” his father asked quietly, as if reading his son’s silence.
#p#分页标题#e#
Again he did not give answer. Could not give answer. Could not tell his father of the male, Arvid, who kicked Olafr for the amusement of his laughing friends. Could not explain to his father the fury that had overtaken him, causing him to instantly shift and lunge at the laughing male of eight and ten winters, ripping his throat out before he had fallen to the ground.
His father would consider this teasing a fighting, not a killing offense. He would not, Fenrisson knew, be able to understand why his son had felt such enraged need to defend the brother who had sacrificed his human for the good of his village. For the lives of his parents.
So he gave his father no answer, because there was none he could give.
And eventually his father made a grunting sigh. “You will give me this story, my son. And until you do will you remain the man unless compelled by myself or the moon. And on full moon days will you take yourself to the hot spring and make yourself into the wolf where no one can see. Until you give me the truth, ever the man will you be as Olafr is ever the wolf. Do you understand me?”
“Yea, Father,” he answered quietly, happy for the punishment if it meant this conversation might come to end.
And this be the story of how the next fenrir of the North Wolves came to be known to his village as Fenrisson, Ever the Man, just as his brother came to be called Olafr, Ever the Wolf.
* * *
Years—Centuries later, FJ feels his wolf rippling down his back when he sees his brother attempting to give rut to his mate. He throws his sword down, and grabs his brother. In that moment, FJ knows nothing. Nothing but rage. Red is the only color he sees as he struggles against the male holding him back from killing his brother. His wolf demanding justice against the brother who attempted to take what belonged to him.
But his body is too well trained not to turn. Even with his wolf in full rage, he remains the man, his father’s long ago bidding like a binding upon his beast.
And eventually the red fades and FJ returns to himself. Realizes he and his brother are now in a small, bright room surrounded by many wolves shouting in his mother’s tongue. They speak so quickly, even FJ, who knows well this tongue, cannot follow them.
He turns back to Olafr. “Brother, you have betrayed me!” he spits out in his father’s tongue.
Olafr shakes his head, still looking the large, dumb animal even though he now be in human form.
“Nay, I have not!” his brother answers inside their bond. “I would never! My human—”
FJ has no patience for excuses, but he concedes to use their brother bond when he answers, “Then what would you call your attempt to cover my she-wolf instead of finding your own?!”
“Your she-wolf? Nay, brother. She is not your she-wolf. She is mine!” His brother says this as if these are the truest words ever spoken. “She is mine.”
“NO!” FJ roars, his head flashing red with rage, as he struggles to free himself from the hands holding him back. “SHE DOES BELONG TO ME!!”
Strangely, it is Olafr, the one who knows his human so little, who first stops struggling against the hands holding him.
He stares at his brother in helpless confusion for a very long time before he says, “She is yours.”
“Yes!” FJ yells back. “She is mine!”
To his surprise, Olafr merely nods as if FJ has confirmed a fact.
“But she is also mine,” Olafr says as if also stating a plain fact. “My wolf wants her. My human wants her. My soul wants her. This I cannot deny.”
FJ finally stops struggling, realizing exactly what his brother is telling him.#p#分页标题#e#
“Brother, do you understand my words?” Olafr asks.
Now it is FJ who nods slowly. He does understand. She is his. But she is also Olafr’s.
He and his brother look at each other, coming to a silent, grim agreement. Then do they turn their gaze upon their fated mate and say with one voice, “Varra.”
15
“Varra,” they both say, turning their heads toward me, their gray eyes blazing bright.
Oooh-kay. I have no idea what or who Varra is and whoa, why are they both staring at me like that now? I thought having one wolf staring me down with those gray, Viking eyes was intense, but two…
I’m not sure what to do. Ask the pile of questions booting up in the back of my brain or start inching toward the clinic door behind me? Because these two wolves—Vikings—whatever the hell they are, are staring at me like…like…