Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

with the target to gain her trust and then so called-innocent rats out all her secrets to the bad guys. Could Astrid be a plant?

“He’s complicated,” I say after a pause. No acknowledgment of the pregnancy thing. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.

“Do you love him?”

“More than I thought I could love anyone.” It’s a painful truth, one that leaves me vulnerable to hurt.

If your enemy knows where your heart lies, they’ll know just where to strike.

She flashes me a smile then and I see that underneath her tattered sarong and stringy hair, there is a very pretty person with the promise of rare beauty in a few years.

She likes this topic, likes the thought of happily ever after. “So, have you ever been in love?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t wait to fall in love.”

Maybe Astrid is a better actress than I am, but I actually believe her. I want to ask what she’s doing here, why the FBI put her in this place with me.

“What’s it like?” She tucks some hair behind her ear.

“What’s what like?” As we walk, I scan the room looking for doors or windows, or something I could climb to get to the air ducts that are a good fifteen feet overhead.

“Falling in love.” She casts me a shy smile.

“It’s not for the faint of heart.” Only the one door, no windows, more of the same industrial cinderblock architecture.

“Was it love at first sight?” she probes.

“Not even a little bit. No, he sort of snuck into my heart when I wasn’t looking.” Damn tricksy wolf.

Astrid’s gaze meets mine. Her blue-gray irises flicker. Swirl.

My breath catches. Oh gods. Is it possible?

I shift my own gaze, the way Nahini taught me, so I can view the soul plane. It’s not a skill I’ve practiced with much, but when viewing the aura of a living being, it’s invaluable.

Most souls are blue, bright blue, like an electric storm flash. But a scant few glow golden like the summer sun on a field of wheat. They are not of this world, the beings the gods fear above all others.

Addy’s. Chloe’s. And now Astrid’s.

The girl the FBI has in their custody isn’t a fae. She’s a fate.

I let out a shaky breath. Does she know the truth? Should I tell her?

“Nic?” Astrid tips her head to the side to study me. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” The word comes out in a dishonest sounding cough. “Just really ready to get out of here.”

Her smile is faint and she shakes her head. “There are worse places to be.”

The words send a chill rocketing through me. “Like where?”

“On the streets,” she licks her lips. “I won’t ever go back there.”

“Someone hurt you.” My heart clenches and my murderous impulses surge to the fore.

She just looks at me with her eerie gaze.

“You won’t go back to living on the streets, Astrid. You’ll come with me.” I don’t know where the declaration comes from, but I can’t leave her behind for the FBI to experiment on. Not when she might be related to my adopted family.

She stops and turns to face me, putting her reed-thin body directly in my path. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not, but we’re jailbird buddies now. Who else can I talk to about my time in the trenches?”

She smiles a little at that and then continues to walk around the indoor track silently.

I, Nic Rutherford, teenage serial killer and daughter of Underhill have a new soul to protect.

Maybe two. My hand rests on my still flat belly.

Gods help them both.

Aiden surges up out of the water and away from the goddess of love and beauty. The wooden tub has morphed into white marble, the water in it swirling in rainbow hues.

Bifrost. That was the familiar scent. Someone tethered the magic from the bridge to Asgard in his bath.

He’s been transported to Freya’s temple in Asgard. He hasn’t been here in centuries. Nothing has changed. The goddess favors white and it is reflected in the milky flooring and arches, rugs, chaises and pillows.

Even the flames burn white-hot in the white stone firepit in the center of the space, as though the element dare not disobey the goddess’s preference.

“Why have you brought me here?” he rounds on her with a snarl.

Ignoring his ire, she stands, letting water sluice down her perfect body. “Welcome home, Váli. I have spoken to the All-father on your behalf. He has agreed to release you from your banishment.”

Her arms reach out as though to embrace him.

He steps away, not wanting to be any closer to the goddess. “Why would you do that?”

She trails one finger down his sternum. “Because you belong here.”

He shakes his head and retreats further. “I don’t. You like playing games, Freya, but I’m not the same boy I was when you used me long ago.”

She actually laughs at that. “I used you? I don’t remember you complaining when you were naked in my bed.”

Maybe once he would have believed her honeyed lies. But having accepted Nic as his mate, he understands just how one-sided his relationship with the vain goddess had been. How empty of real feeling. “You found me the day I first saw my father with Angrboda. Pretended to offer me comfort. I was drowning and had no one to confide in. You manipulated me when I was vulnerable.”

She drops her arms to the side, her gaze narrowing. “And you enjoyed every minute of it.”

“Yes, because I was young and alone and didn’t have anyone else watching out for me. I was just a toy to you. But no longer.”

She moves around him, surveying his body like a side of beef. Though he’d spent most of his life skyclad, her scrutiny unnerves him and he covers himself with his hands.

“Shy?” Her tone is mocking.

He lifts his chin. “Send me back.”

She sighs and snaps her fingers. Within moments, they are both dressed, him in loose white trousers and a matching vest, her in a diaphanous red dress with