Wolves of Asgard

WOLVES OF ASGARD A novel by H.P. MALLORY J.R. RAIN Wolves of Valhalla #3 Also by H.P. Mallory PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FICTION: Haven Hollow Midlife Mermaid Midlife Spirits PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Witch & Warlock Vampire Esquire Ever Dark Academy FANTASY ROMANCE: Dark Destinies Gates of the Underworld Lily Harper Dulcie O’Neil PARANORMAL REVERSE HAREM: My Five Kings Happily Never After SCI-FI ROMANCE: The Alaskan Detective TRILOGIES: Crown of Lies Dark Circus Chasing Demons Dungeon Raider Here to There Arctic Wolves Wolves of Valhalla Lucy Westenra Other Books by J.R. Rain VAMPIRE FOR HIRE Moon Dance Vampire Moon American Vampire Moon Child Christmas Moon Vampire Dawn Vampire Games Moon Island Moon River Vampire Sun Moon Dragon Moon Shadow Vampire Fire Midnight Moon Moon Angel Vampire Sire Moon Master Dead Moon Lost Moon Vampire Destiny Infinite Moon Vampire Empress Moon Elder Wicked Moon Winter Moon Moon Blade Sasquatch Moon Wild Moon Moon Magic Moon World SAMANTHA MOON ADVENTURES Banshee Moon Moon Monster Moon Ripper Witch Moon Moon Goddess Moon Blaze Golem Moon Moon Maidens SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES Moon Bayou Blood Moon Parallel Moon SAMANTHA MOON ORIGINS New Moon Rising Moon Mourning Haunted Moon Wolves of Asgard Published by Rain Press Copyright © 2022 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory All rights reserved. Ebook Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. TABLE OF CONTENTS Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Epilogue Reading Sample: Wrath of the Gods About H.P. Mallory About J.R. Rain Wolves of Asgard Prologue Freya Blood dripped onto the ground as I wrung out what remained of my dress. It had been an exquisite emerald color and fashioned by dwarven seamstresses many centuries ago. It was simple and comfortable, something I wore when I wasn’t expecting visitors. The frock had already suffered quite a bit before I’d ever set foot in Helheim, wicking away the cold sweat that popped along my skin as Frigg lay waste to my little corner of Midgard in an attempt to drive me out. Now it was so slicked with blood and filth that the original color was gone, the cloth remaining a stubborn red-brown even after multiple washings. At this point, I was just grateful when I could get the damn thing to dry. When it had shed the last crimson drop, I laid the dress out to dry on a nearby boulder and sank onto the ground to wait an hour. Any longer than that, and I was likely to be sought out by one of Hel’s many beasts. Her father may have tipped her to his plans, but she couldn’t afford to allow me to roam freely in her realm. It would raise eyebrows if the Aesir’s supposed ally allowed an enemy to waltz out without so much as raising a hand. The beasts after me had no idea that they were pawns in a game, and one I’d been winning ably… in the beginning. I stretched out my legs with a grimace. Claws had ripped through one of my thighs in an attempt to hamstring me. I’d twisted in time to keep the attack from crippling me, but I couldn’t move quickly any longer. I could heal the wounds with magic, but I had precious little to spare. Furthermore, it would alert every monster in proximity that I was here. The sword and shield I’d scavenged off the first shade would have to do. Shame his armor had been too large for me to use. If I found a taller, slighter man I’d be sure to gut him, just for the use of his armor alone. Minutes dragged by slowly, torture of glacial proportions. I needed to move, to be on the offensive, to find my family before something nasty found me. Crouching on the ground, shivering, wouldn’t do me much good. But neither would letting my clothing get so stiff that it hampered my movement. So, I stayed on the ground, legs drawn up to my chest, thoroughly miserable, counting my heartbeats to gauge the time. Damn Loki. He’d done it this way on purpose. He loved seeing people suffer. An hour passed before something changed—the quality of light, flickering like a candle flame in a darkened room. That usually heralded the appearance of the aspect of someone’s hugr, or what the modern day, largely Christian populace thought of as their ‘soul’. Normally it formed a nimbus around the shade in question, shining in a steady shade of blue or gray. This light was... different. A shade of yellow-green that evoked the memory of pus, vomit, or any number of putrid things. It wasn’t right for a soul to appear that way—and I knew for a fact it was a soul. The most dangerous thing about the monsters that prowled Helheim was their lack of aura. I could never sense the bastards coming. I moved toward the light cautiously, keeping low to the ground. If this was some sort of lure, I didn’t want to give my would-be killers a clear target. The terrain was rocky, skinning my knees and elbows, but it still beats becoming a pincushion. When I finally reached the top of a hill and peered down the slope to the valley below, I was struck dumb by what I saw. It was a soul, not a monster, and it didn’t appear to be a trap either. Extending my magical senses for just a few moments confirmed that. A female shape lay sprawled on the hard ground, eyes wide, mouth fixed into a scream of pain. The light jumped and fizzled like the staticky picture on an old television screen, the woman’s body shifting into different shapes every few seconds. The first was unmistakably Jovi, with her pale hair and