Free Transcendent by Lesley Livingston Page A

were tormenters in the netherworld, feeding on the lost souls of those who’d taken their own lives. Which Gwen had technically done, even though she’d done it to break a curse and set Mason’s brother—not to mention the entire city of Manhattan—free. But Mason also figured that the Greek mythological monstrosity crouched above her really didn’t give a crap about the details. While Rafe held the creature’s attention, Mason looked up to see two other winged figures hovering high in the night sky. She tugged on Toby’s sleeve and pointed upward.
    â€œYeah,” he murmured. “I see ’em. Stay alert, kiddo—they move pretty fast.”
    Mason nodded and shook out her shoulders, rolling her head from side to side like she would if she was getting ready for a competition bout. Toby shifted away from her then, stepping casually a few paces closer to the fountain’s edge,giving himself room to swing a knife if it came to that.
    â€œAre you okay if we have to fight?” Fennrys whispered in her ear, suddenly standing beside her.
    Mason hadn’t noticed him move, hadn’t even heard him, but suddenly he was there. His breath was warm on her neck and all she wanted to do in that moment was turn her head just enough so that she could kiss him.
    Probably not the best time , she thought, and nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. Her hand dropped to her hip to rest on her sword hilt again, before she remembered that it wasn’t her sword anymore. She wondered for a brief moment what would happen if she were to actually use the Odin spear as a weapon . . . and decided that it would probably be a really terrible idea.
    Fennrys seemed to think so, too. He dropped his own hand lightly on top of hers, loosening her fingers. She looked up at him over her shoulder. He was pale and the muscles of his neck stood out, taut with tension. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and his pupils were so large that the pale blue irises of his eyes looked like thin rings of ice surrounding bottomless black pools. She was close enough to count the stubble on his jaw and longed to run her fingers over the roughness of it.
    Seriously . Not really the time, Mase .
    With his free hand, Fenn reached for his own long-bladed knife—the one he kept in a sheath strapped to his leg—and, wrapping his arm around her back, eased its hilt into Mason’sother palm. “Toby’s right. And Rafe was right. Let’s not play with our Asgard toys unless we absolutely have to. Okay?”
    She nodded and let go of the sword hilt. “Okay.”
    Good point. How many times could she haul out the Valkyrie before she became that permanently? And Fennrys? What about the monster she’d unleashed inside him? Okay, granted, their mutual visit to Fenn’s Safe Harbor seemed to have taken the edge off the uncontrollable rage urges they’d both been experiencing, for the moment, but she wondered how long that would last. She was already starting to feel like she was spoiling for a fight and, if that was the case for her, how much worse would it be for Fenn, who saw fighting as his purpose in life? Especially now, with the added pressure of his lupine instincts? When did the instinct take over completely?
    Her fingers closed convulsively around the hilt of the knife Fennrys had handed her, and then she made herself relax them into an easy, ready grip—the way Fenn had taught her to hold a blade—and smiled at him.
    â€œThat’s my girl,” Fenn murmured with a grin. “Stay loose.”
    His fingers squeezed hers briefly and he moved away from her again.
    His girl . . .
    She desperately hoped he still felt that way and wasn’t just saying that.
    Mason watched Fennrys move to take up a subtly protective stance in front of Heather, who gave him a look but didn’t protest. The knuckles of her hand, clutching a little silversickle she’d