“Not yet, but they’re talking about it. It’s crazy—we never get such bad snowstorms so late in the season,” the shopkeeper said before she turned her attention to me and Bjarni. “Do you two need some assistance?”
“Yes,” I said, because it was becoming quite obvious I had no idea what was appropriate for this age. I barely understood half the words Annabel had used, but I got the gist that she was asking about how the weather might affect our travels.
I set my jaw, not looking forward to the roughened seas. At least I’d been assured the journey to the New World would be faster than the months it’d taken back when the humans first crossed.
The girl pulled several garments from the metal racks, eyeballing me as she picked each piece. Eventually she handed me a large pile. “Here. That should get you started.”
“Thank you,” I grunted, reaching for my belt instead of taking the clothes from her. When I dropped my leather trousers and stepped out of them, the shop girl turned beet-red, a choking noise coming from her throat.
“S-Sir—”
“Oh my God, you barbarian!” Annabel practically leapt in front of me from wherever she’d been looking for her own garments, shielding my legs from the other girl as she grabbed the clothes from her arms. “I’m so sorry! You—come here!”
The last bit was clearly directed at me, and I narrowed my eyes at being commanded by an omega, of all things. Before I could voice a reprimand, she’d grabbed me by the arm and was tugging me toward the back of the shop.
“What is wrong with you? You can’t just drop your pants in front of a stranger!” Annabel hissed as she did her best to shove me into a small enclosure shielded by a curtain.
“It’s her job to dress people,” I said, reflexively closing my arms around the clothes she shoved at me before she ripped the curtain shut between us. “She’s seen men in stages of undress before.”
The omega muttered something that sounded like a curse. “Look, times have changed, okay? These days, you’re expected to be a big boy and manage your own clothes shopping. And you’re certainly not supposed to flash some poor girl working minimum wage! Just… try on what she got and let me know if you need a different size of anything. I think it’s best if you don’t try to talk to her again.”
I scoffed at how ridiculous she was being over my bare legs, but whatever. She was more used to this era than I was.
I tried on multiple pieces of the foreign garments, eventually settling for a tight-fitting gray tunic with buttons all the way down the front, and some equally tight, stiff trousers in a blue fabric. There was a mirror in the enclosure, and as far as I could tell, I looked like a person with clothes.
“This will do,” I said, ripping the curtain back open before grabbing for my sword I’d propped against one of the walls. “Go pick something out for yourself so we can board a ship.”
Annabel didn’t obey. Instead she looked me up and down, and when her eyes reached my crotch, her cheeks blushed a deep pink.
“Let me guess—zippers weren’t a thing back in your day?”
“Zippers?” I asked, following her gaze to my crotch.
“For Chrissakes,” she muttered, taking a step forward and reaching for me.
Something pulled deep in my gut, a sensation of suction that went straight to my balls as her dainty finger connected with the front of my trousers, pulling on the odd metal adornment there. She brushed over the linen fabric of my underwear in the process, and my cock reacted instantly, rising as if to reach for more of her warm touch.
“Oh my god!” she croaked, releasing the trousers as if she’d burned herself. “Why are you all like this?!”
I glanced to her from my bulge straining to burst through the now-closed zipper, but she’d already turned her back on me and was beating a hasty retreat to the other end of the shop.
For a woman who’d been claimed by two alphas and let a third mount her, she seemed awfully shy about the natural desires her touch provoked. I was the one with reason to resent my body’s reaction, not her. She was an omega—a human omega. Divine alpha cock should inspire nothing but desire in her.
I inhaled before I could stop myself, testing the air for her pheromones. I wrinkled my nose at the onslaught of scents hitting my nostrils; hundreds of prior patrons to the shop, the girl serving it, and Bjarni. But also her.
I breathed in again, filtering out anything but Annabel. She smelled of warm honey and thyme, and just a hint of omega pussy.
I shivered, swallowing a groan when my cock thickened further. Idiot. The girl was right—I was exactly as dumb as every other single-minded alpha who couldn’t keep it together when an omega looked their way.
I stared at her across the shop as she fussed with Bjarni’s hair, wrapping it up in a bun and stroking at his beard to tame the wild strands. His eyes crinkled at the corners at her efforts, and he mumbled something to her that made her laugh, the pealing sound ricocheting around the shop.
Something sick and angry rose in my gut as I watched them together.
She wasn’t his, yet none would have known it from the way he acted around her. He had no right to pet her cheek, no right to press a kiss to her shoulder when she turned away to find her own garments.
No right to look at her with such adoration and longing, I just knew he was thinking about the next time she’d need his essence to replenish her magic reserves.
And neither did I.
I clenched my fists until my knuckles cracked, the bite of my nails in my palms finally returning a modicum of sanity to my dazed mind.
Yeah, I got why my stupid brother thought her some prophesied völve worth sharing with even our enemies. I was no stranger to the call of an omega’s cunt, but no one had ever drawn me like this girl did. The longer I spent in her company, the harder it was to keep my walls in place, even if I still found her intolerable.
If a man wasn’t careful, that call could make him throw away his pride and convictions for just a taste of what lay between her thighs.
Perhaps I’d been wrong. Perhaps she wasn’t a human, but an elf—a cleverly placed distraction to have Valhalla’s sons squabbling amongst themselves while Ragnarök ravished our world.
I watched her closely as she came out from another dressing room in odd, modern garments, smiled at the shopkeeper, and paid for our clothes with the rectangular piece of plastic she’d insisted we create along with the passports. Then she returned to me, a careful smile in place as she approached—a silent plea for my obedience as she reached for my hair.
I sat still while she dragged her fingers over my scalp, ignoring the zings of pleasure at her touch while she fastened my hair into a similar style as she had Bjarni's. She might have a golden cunt, but I was prepared for her influence now. She would not trick me like she had my brother.
Thirteen
Annabel
Even with modern clothes and man-buns, Modi and Bjarni looked incredibly Viking, what with their huge frames, pale eyes, and red and blond hair. The fact that Modi refused to part with his sword didn’t help matters.
“Please, you can’t go into an airport with a weapon on your belt! You’ll get us all arrested!” I groaned, turning to Bjarni for help. He’d packed his own sword away without fuss, even going into the airport to get us the necessary forms to check weapons as luggage, but seemed far too amused at my current predicament to interfere.