Bridge Crossed: Bridge of the Gods

1

I

eased from sleep into a half-waking state. Warm, firm lips pressed the tender spot just behind my ear. The air I pulled into my lungs was cold, laced with true winter. But the body behind me, skin to skin, cradled against my every curve?

That was not cold. Leaving the steady thrum of sleep, my pulse quickened.

Heimdal smiled against my skin. His mouth trailed down my neck. One hand, matching the pace of his lips, slid down my naked body.

He brushed his palm across one breast, friction teasing the nipple. As he nipped at the curve where my neck met my shoulder, he cupped the breast, working the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A different pressure grew against the curves of my ass. I shifted, deliberately rubbing against that length.

Heimdal groaned, a low, lazy sound that shivered against my neck. I bent my knees and curled my spine, arching more firmly against him and drawing my legs slightly apart. Encouraging him.

He drew back, creating a space between us that ached with his absence. The arm beneath him, as we lay there in my bedroom spooned together, slid between the mattress and my hip. His fingers brushed the top of my thigh and delved between my legs, where they parted my outer lips and stroked the inner.

My turn to groan. Heat surged into my belly. Heimdal’s fingers stroked and dipped, working a rhythm that was unpredictable but unrelenting. My hips moved, dancing against his hand. His other hand continued to tweak and massage my breast. His breath warmed my neck, as his teeth nipped my sensitive flesh.

Then both his hands went to my hips. Steadying me. Holding me ready. The hard, hot length of him slid against me, and he pressed against my now-slick core. With a slow, steady push that drew another moan from me, he entered me.

And then stopped, seated in me but not moving.

Gods. I turned my head to the side. But I didn’t move my body. I most certainly did not want to twist away from him. What are you trying to do to me?

Heimdal’s chuckle hummed along my skin. Slowly, he worked his mouth up my neck again. Nipped at my ear. His one hand left my hip and slid again between my legs. With great deliberation, one finger circled my clit.

I tried to arch against him, but he was already there, deep inside me. I tried to arch away, to create the friction inside me that I ached for, but he held me securely.

The hand that was not otherwise occupied closed on my hip, holding me steady. He drew out of me, but only the slightest bit. Then he ground in again, deep. Deeper. All the while, his finger circled and pressed.

He rocked inside me, barely thrusting but never stopping. Finding places inside me I hadn’t known were there. His finger never stopped, either, and a steadily-rising tension filled the pit of my stomach.

His breath against my neck quickened. His fingers gripped my hip harder. Gradually, his pace increased. The first waves of an orgasm rose inside me, swelling out from his finger on my clit and the steady grinding of him inside me. Gasping, I rode out the shivering climax.

Heimdal’s rhythm changed, slowing. Pausing. Then he shifted his weight on the bed and planted both hands on my hips.

He drew out of me, nearly all the way. And drove back in again. Slowly. Hard. Filling me until I nearly cried out.

Out again. In. His pace increased to near frenzy. The orgasm I’d already had spiraled out into new waves and came back for me again. As Heimdal drove deep into me, his own release throbbing into my core, a second orgasm rocked through me.

And then my alarm went off.

Heimdal groaned and fell against me. With his mouth against my neck, he laughed.

There are some things in this world that I could live without.

I reached for my phone, slapping ineffectually against the bedside table a couple of times before snagging it with one finger and dragging it toward me. I did not want to leave the warmth huddled against my back and deep inside me. Not yet.

I tapped the stop button on the alarm and tossed the phone onto the table. Then I curled back against the man behind me. In my bed, which had been returned to a state of normalcy since we’d recovered my belongings from my crashed Jeep.

Heimdal had taken care of that, too. I hadn’t asked for details. I enjoyed riding on the back of his Harley, but it was October now. Even under ordinary circumstances, October was probably too cold for bikes.

Mmm. I leaned harder into Heimdal and wiggled my butt against him. Then again, there are things I lived far too long without.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. Leaned forward over my shoulder and kissed my mouth. Sort of. The angle wasn’t what you’d call perfect for a real kiss, but our lips and tongues brushed.

Then I sighed. With incredible reluctance, I disentangled my body from Heimdal’s. When he grunted an objection, I said, I have to get to the rental office. I promised Maureen.

And with the new girl I’d hired to watch the store side of the building, I really did need to be there. Even if I’d much rather be here.

I staggered out of bed and reached for the fluffy flannel robe I’d taken to keeping on the nearby chair. Maybe I didn’t need extra warmth in my bed these days, but I needed it outside.

Heimdal frowned and leaned back against the pillows, all hard muscles and mussed blond hair and scruffy beard that made me want to lose the robe and climb right back into bed again. Over his sky blue eyes, his brow furrowed.

This is not how this is supposed to work. The corners of his sexy mouth turned down. I’m supposed to be protecting you.

I’d been smiling vaguely, simply because I was happy. His words and his tone, though, they reminded me of doubts I’d still been struggling to set aside.

Protecting me. By sucking my magic back into the niflsteinn and abandoning me again.

The niflsteinn was no longer an option, of course. Heimdal couldn’t use it on me because we’d used it on Loki, to take away the magical poison that Odin had used in his attempt to kill Loki.

An attempt that I’d interrupted. And hadn’t that turned out to be a great choice?

Although even now, even knowing what Loki had become capable of, I wasn’t sure I could have made any other choice. Whatever Loki had been guilty of, the execution Odin had planned for him had been horrific. Inhumane.

We are not human, the memory of Odin’s voice reminded me.

I studied Heimdal’s face and tried to decide. If the niflsteinn had still been an option, where would we be right now? Not living together in my cabin on Cox Lake, I was willing to bet. Not spending every night—and sometimes mornings and other random times of day—unable to keep our hands off each other.

Heimdal had said he trusted me. He’d granted me joint custody of the rune-covered silver box that held the niflsteinn.

But I knew what he’d said back then, too. Back when he’d used that same stone on me.

Trust me.

I wanted to trust him.

I did trust him. I did.

Heimdal glanced up and caught me staring at him. Narrowing his eyes, he reached for me, as if he intended to draw me back into bed with him.

I stepped back, just out of reach, and smiled. I have to get ready for work.

As I turned toward the bathroom, I heard him getting out of bed.

2

SINCE

Claire’s ill-fated attempt to escape through it, I’d had the tiny cantilevered window in my bathroom repaired. While I let the water run and waited for it to create puffs of steam in the bathroom’s chilly air, I stood with a faded rag rug between my bare feet and cold linoleum flooring and peered between the window’s slats.

It was snowing. Hard. Probably not just here in North Dakota, either. The phenomenon seemed to be a worldwide thing. Maybe it wasn’t snow, exactly, everywhere. But it was something.

The snow would pass in a matter of minutes, I knew. And people had already gotten used to the freakish storms that had gradually become part of our daily reality. Even as climatologists scurried to discover the weather’s cause, people left their homes each day prepared for any kind of weather. They’d grown accustomed to the need to pull to the side of the road and wait for the blizzard of the moment to pass. They wore heavy coats and filled their pockets with hand warmers, even if the sun was out when they left home.

Human adaptability was nothing short of amazing.

When I got out of the shower and padded barefoot into my bedroom to get dressed, the scent of cooking eggs and bacon greeted me. At some point, I’d maybe have to encourage Heimdal to learn to cook something different. For the moment, I was just grateful that he was here.

You’re going into Grand Forks today? I raised my voice so he could hear me from the next room. Dropping my robe, I slid into clean panties and bra.

Heimdal didn’t answer right away. As I shifted my jeans up over my hips and buttoned them, I turned to look back at him.

My little cabin was divided into roughly three rooms—bathroom, bedroom, and a larger living space that covered all the other bases. An island countertop containing the stovetop divided the kitchen area from the wood flooring where an old couch served as living room and an equally-derelict table and chairs served as dining room.

With my bedroom door standing open, the whole thing was really more just one big room. Heimdal stood behind the countertop, dressed in nothing but his dark jeans. How he stood to wander around half-naked, I couldn’t comprehend. His Asgardian nature, I supposed. I couldn’t exactly object.

Heimdal held a spatula raised in one hand and a particular look in his eyes as he watched me.

Peeper. I slid into a blouse, dark blue with tiny white flowers, and draped a cable knit sweater over my arm. As I buttoned the blouse, I walked toward the kitchen.

"You were right there." A smile curled across his mouth, but he lowered the spatula and returned his attention to his cooking.

I threw the sweater over a chair and walked behind him. Laying one hand on his bare and very muscular back, I reached around him and snagged a crisped slice of bacon off the platter.

Hot, Heimdal warned. And yes. Grand Forks. I thought to check the homeless shelters again.

I crunched one end off the bacon. It sizzled against my tongue. Ow. Hot. I paused to chew and swallow. Do you really think they’d go there?

Probably not. But I’ve checked every other place I can think of in the surrounding area. Heimdal turned slightly toward me, cupped his free hand against my cheek, and kissed my temple. We’ll find Loki. I won’t give him the chance to regroup and come back for you.

For me. For Heimdal. For the niflsteinn.

Outside the cabin’s row of tall windows, the snow had stopped. Sunlight glistened on low drifts of pure white and glittered off the glassy surface of the lake. Wind rumpled the bare black branches of naked trees. Already, pockets of melt sagged in the otherwise-pristine surface of the snow.

The seasons had become impossible to gauge. But I knew exactly how many days—weeks—it had been since Loki re-entered my life.

Claire’s been with him a long time, now. I leaned my forehead against Heimdal’s shoulder. Behind him, the cooking eggs popped and sputtered.

We’ll help her if we can. Again, Heimdal’s lips pressed my forehead. Then he turned back to the eggs, presenting me once more with his back. I know you want to help her. But you should want to keep Loki away from that poisonous magic even more.

Can’t I want both? I planted both my hands at the base of Heimdal’s back, warming my fingers. Then I leaned into him and slid my hands around his waist. The coarse hairs on his stomach rasped beneath my palms.

You can want whatever you please. The husky note in his voice made me smile.

I glanced at the wall clock above the cabin’s front door. And sighed, because the answer to Heimdal’s not-quite-a-question was no. I planted a kiss between his shoulder blades and with great reluctance removed my hands from his torso.

Heimdal slid the eggs out of the pan. I reached around him for one of the plates and carried it toward the table.

I could get used to this house husband deal. I slid into my chair, setting my plate in front