“A warrior never leaves his weapon behind in enemy territory,” Modi growled, his blue gaze suspicious as he stared down at me, arms folded across his wide chest. “Do you want me to be trapped at sea, defenseless?”
I rolled my eyes, and not for the first time in the past twenty minutes.
“You’re a god! You don’t need a sword!” I hissed, keeping my voice low when I registered the puzzled looks from passersby. “Look, you’ll get it back as soon as we land. It’s a safety precaution—they don’t let anyone board with anything that could be used as a weapon. Please, Modi, we have to get to Seattle, and if we don’t get on the next plane, we might end up stranded here. They’re not going to be able to keep the airports open much longer with this weather.”
“She’s right,” Bjarni rumbled, finally stepping the fuck up to help me with the world’s most stubborn god. “Amusing as it’d be to see you try to fight your way through security, we don’t have time. You wanna save that brother of yours? You need to check your sword.”
It was kind of infuriating how easily Modi relinquished his stand once Bjarni weighed in. Sure, they were mortal enemies, but apparently it was much easier to trust him than it was the human omega who’d actually been born in an era with air travel.
I kept my comments to myself, knowing all that mattered was to get all of us on that plane ASAP.
It turned out to be somewhat easier said than done.
Modi had kept it together quite well while we made our way through Oslo, despite what had to be a lot of new impressions coming at him at rapid speeds. However, when it came to making our way through the airport, things got kinda tense.
Bjarni went through security first and I followed him, but when it was Modi’s turn, the metal detector went off and some beta male tried to take him off to the side to get patted down.
I could already see the sweat on the poor man’s forehead as he indicated to Modi that he needed to spread his arms and widen his stance and only got a narrowed gaze in return.
“Please. Do as he asks—he’s just doing his job,” I called out.
Modi gave me a withering stare, but finally obeyed. Not that that put the airport employee at ease—he was shaking under Modi’s glare as he went about patting him down, and his relief that there was nothing of concern on the alpha was visible in his shoulders as he finally waved the redheaded Viking through.
“Never have I heard of such absurd precautions for boarding a ship,” Modi growled when he reached us, his attention darting from us to the many distractions. “They think I’d bother concealing a weapon when it is so easy to toss someone into the waves?”
Only then did it dawn on me that he still thought we were about to board a literal ship.
“Uh… you do realize we’re going on a plane, right? As in flying? In an enclosed vessel? If you toss anyone outside, the whole thing is gonna come crashing down with us in it.”
Modi’s eyes widened for a moment as he looked from me to Bjarni. “Truly? The humans have mastered flight?”
“Eh, mastered might be taking it a bit far,” Bjarni said with a shrug. “But yes, most people cross continents with air travel these days. Unnatural, if you ask me, but faster than sailing.”
The news that we would be traveling via air seemed to quiet Modi for a bit. I couldn’t really blame him—if you’d just learned about the wonders of aerodynamics, it probably took a few moments to come to terms with it. Even if you were a god.
We wandered the airport, waiting for our plane to board. Both alphas seemed restless, their attention darting with every noise and their postures tense. I figured some food might help calm them down and brought them to the nearest burger place I could find.
For once, paying the eye-watering airport prices didn’t make me bat an eyelid, though I did give a brief thought to where the magic balance on the card Modi had helped me create came from. And if there was a limit.
“Eugh,” Bjarni grumbled as he bit into his burger, nose wrinkling in distaste. “One of the worst parts of the modern world—you’ve forgotten what real food is.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Listen to you—Viking food critic of the year over there.”
“He’s right,” Modi huffed, face screwed up in a similar display of distaste. “What is this? It tastes like… air and grease.”
I didn’t bother arguing with them. I happened to like my greasy air burgers, and it wasn’t like there were any magic apple trees around.
Despite their comments, the burgers seemed to go down well enough, followed by all three portions of fries. All of them. I didn’t get a single one.
“How much longer until it’s time to board?” Bjarni asked as I came back from clearing our cheap plastic trays off the table.
“About… two hours,” I said, checking the nearby clock he couldn’t see from his seat across from me. “You guys wanna go hang out in the lobby and wait?”
He grimaced. “Nah, that just makes it worse. C’mon, let’s go for a stroll.”
“Worse?” I asked, moving with him when he grabbed my hand, tugging me along. Modi fell in on my other side, silent but close. The way they flanked me, it seemed they were prepared for any random passenger to burst into the shape of a mountain troll and charge at us.
“There’re too many people around,” Bjarni said, stroking his thumb over mine, though his focus stayed on our surroundings. “Too much noise. I don’t know a single alpha who doesn’t hate airports with every fiber of his being. Patrolling eases the discomfort a bit.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t often I considered the downsides of being an alpha. They were big, dominating, and largely took whatever they wanted without much consequence. Most people I knew would have given their left kidney to have been born an alpha and live life on top of the food chain.
But looking from Bjarni to Modi, it became clear that not everything was so simple. They had a boatload of instincts the rest of us didn’t have to deal with, and it was becoming obvious that said instincts were screaming at both men about this crowded, noisy place not being safe. There were too many people to easily determine who might be a threat.
Bjarni’s hand in mine suddenly felt less like his usual urge to ensure my safety and more like he needed my touch to calm some of his unease. I squeezed his fingers, briefly wondering how many alphas suffered from anxiety. Not that any of them would ever cop to it.
When I looked to my right and caught Modi’s tense frown, pity rose in my gut. Poor guy had to have it even worse than Bjarni—this was his first brush with the crowded reality of modern life, after all.
I hesitated for a moment, not sure if the gesture would be appreciated, but in the end decided I was so used to his dismissive attitude that one more rejection wouldn’t hurt. So I reached out with my free hand and wound my fingers with his.
He jolted, blue eyes darting from our surroundings to our interlocked hands, then to my face. I was fully bracing for a scathing remark, but he just stared at me for a long moment before returning his focus to the people passing us, his hand closing tight around mine.
It was only when we boarded the plane to Chicago that I realized I’d made a mistake.