Howl for Me

Prologue

Long ago…

“No.”

Odin held up the third set of bonds with what Fenris assumed was supposed to be a guileless smile. Fenris knew better. Odin smelled wrong. He always had and Fenris suspected he always would. “But surely this bond will be the easiest of all to break.”

He’s lying. Odin’s stench had intensified. Fenris eyed the whisper-thin thread Odin proposed to test him with. He’d broken the last two bonds Odin had placed upon him, but he grew weary of the game, and Odin seemed far too pleased with himself.

“No. The game grows old, and my patience thin. Find some other way to amuse yourself, Old Man. I refuse to be your toy for the day.” And Fenris curled up once more beneath the tree and closed his eyes, content to drowse in the afternoon sun.

“Afraid, oh mighty wolf?” Odin’s voice drifted to his ears and tempted him to comply with the god’s wishes.

But Fenris was the son of Loki and no one’s fool. Odin was up to something and all the honeyed words in the world would not lure him into giving the Old Man what he wanted. “Go away, Old Man, unless the thought of my teeth in your flesh grants you pleasure. Then, by all means, remain.” And he wolf-grinned up at the god, pleased by the hint of fear he saw.

“But Tyr would be pleased to see your strength once more.”

Fenris glanced over at his foster-father, the one being he trusted more than any other, even his wayward father. Loki had placed him with Tyr in the hopes Odin would spare him the way the god hadn’t spared his brother and sister. He knew that, but at times his father’s avoidance still hurt. The best thing to come of that had been his relationship with the man he respected most in the world.

Whatever Tyr wished, Fenris would do his best to provide. “Tyr?”

Tyr smiled at him gently.

“Perhaps he’d be more willing to play my little game if he has some reassurance, eh, Tyr?”

Fenris tilted his head, wondering where Odin was going with this. He had no desire to play the game, but if Tyr requested, he’d gladly show his strength once more.

“Since you fear such a flimsy, thin rope so much, Tyr will place his sword hand between your jaws. If for some reason you find you cannot free yourself, simply close your jaws on his wrist and we will release you.”

He didn’t trust Odin’s words, but he trusted Tyr’s. “You promise?”

Tyr stepped forward and held out his hand, palm down, his expression gentle, loving.

Fenris laughed and allowed the gods to bind him.