A Guardians Passion (31 page)

Freya sat down on the bed as her safety nets one by one moved past Geraldine and through the door. Fenris paused until Rayne walked past him before he considered moving over the threshold, and even then, he paused to look at Freya as if she might demand that he stay.

Geraldine gave a dramatic sigh. “Out, wolf.”

Fenris took only one step before turning to look at Freya once more.

Freya nodded, giving him permission to leave.
I’m okay
, she mouthed.

“See if I ever cook smack bones for your ass again,” her mother snarled as Fenris finally crossed the threshold.

“But Ger—”

Geraldine silenced her son-in-law despite his anguish over the threat of not receiving his favorite gravy-smothered short ribs. “I’ll only need a few minutes. I’ll come get you when I’m done,” she added, taking hold of the door and then shutting it behind the big wolf.

Freya’s teeth were clenched together in her nervousness. Left alone with her mother, a force of terror all on her own, she willed herself to be strong.

Geraldine looked her over, eyes scorching Freya with an intimacy she couldn’t bluff past. “We haven’t had time to speak and rightly so. You needed the comfort of your mates more initially, the security of the berserker and his witch. The omega even. So how are you feeling?”

Freya shrugged, wishing that she could have at least pretended her mother wasn’t correct. She had been hunkered down in the bedroom with her mates ever since Fenris had calmed enough to be able to lift Rayne. She hadn’t seen her mother or anyone else after Geraldine had scouted a place where they could all rest. Vaegar had questions, but Ezra had ferried the answers. Even after the lengthy solitude, the loving affirmation that Fenris and Rayne provided, Freya still wasn’t sure of her reply. “I’m fine, Ma.”

Geraldine’s eyelids were closed, an upturned curve to her lips. “How’s the cub?”

“Bun’s fine,” she replied, patting her belly and feeling her cub stir. “Hungry but fine. I can’t shovel food down fast enough for the little fucker.”

“The cub is growing at an accelerated rate. You only have, what, three months to go, and the cub picks up most of its weight in the end.”

Freya considered the advice. “I know. I went to the seminars. I was at the retreat.” Because you sure as hell weren’t trying to tell me anything, she thought.

“Hmm. Yeah. So. You were planning on getting dressed, huh?”

“Can’t walk around old school.”

Geraldine’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t amused. “I’m thinking that you want to head off to a fight.”

“What do you mean?”

Geraldine sucked her teeth in disgust. She didn’t buy the ignorant act one bit. Not that Freya had expected to be so lucky.

“Who the hell am I, girl?” Geraldine asked rhetorically. “Your mother is who I am. And when Vaegar just laid down plans to decimate half of the vampire population and you and your males didn’t even bother to attend the briefing, I began to wonder. Not that I thought you didn’t want to be in line for some payback. The witch was still ill. But then downstairs, when Fenris was doing the chimera thing, you were clinging to him like rag doll.”

Freya lowered her head, knowing what her mother was getting at. Her fingers quivered against the curve of her belly, thinking of Birathan, his tongue, his horrid breath, and how vulnerable she had been to him.

“The asprega—it hurt you?”

Freya said nothing, gritting her teeth instead. Her nails elongated in claws yearning for flesh to rend, bones to break. She had never wanted to destroy a fiend so badly that she could taste it—or was it her own blood brought forth by lengthening fangs? Her eyes rolled back, the allure of transformation singing through her veins until the touch of a palm gently stroking her back calmed her.

Geraldine was standing beside her, gazing down. Freya saw genuine concern in rich chocolate eyes. She could count on one hand how many times her mother had consoled her, but always there had been interest and support. Geraldine had never bought into Freya’s complaints about scraped knees, cramps, lost fights, or missed opportunities. Instead, her mother had always stressed will and strength…things her mother seemed to be able to summon all too easily.

Freya yearned for such iron. The cracks she felt within her made the desire harder to bear. More than anything, she wanted to consider Birathan as a passing joke, yet every time she recalled his threats gave her chills. She was stronger than that, Freya wanted to believe, especially before her mother. “Shit happened. I’m handling it.”

“I didn’t expect any less. And the boys are doing their share, I suppose?”

“Of course. They’ve been comforting…supportive.”

Geraldine shook her head. “And?”

Freya didn’t understand. She looked to her mother for some clue as to her meaning. What else did they have to do other than be at her side and give her warmth? They had proven their love and concern enough.

“I can assume that they know, specifically Fenris.”

“And?”

“And he’s not the forgiving type, I think.”

Freya gave a heaving sigh, finally comprehending what her mother was getting at. “Oh,” she said. “There is something in the works. You can trust that.”

“Look here, child. I know you’re going hunting, and I have a pretty good idea
what
you’ll be seeking to destroy, but Freya, it isn’t just you. I know the boys will guard you, and perhaps they will kill the fiend quickly. You want to see it done. Okay. You do what you have to, but”—she paused, the reservations clear—“don’t you let anything happen to my grandchild.”

As always, her mother saw right down to the soul. “I’m not,” Freya groaned, shaking her head. She would never put Bun at risk. Relying on Fenris and Rayne was one thing, but doubting her safety altogether was what motivated her to see the asprega prime dead. It wasn’t pride, wasn’t solely vengeance motivating her. Couldn’t her mother see? She wondered.

Geraldine sat down on the bed beside Freya, shoulder to shoulder, toffee skin against hazelnut. Geraldine was rigid, but her eyes betrayed her concern that Freya would have loved to fold herself into.

“Don’t look at me like that, Ma.”

“You have me in you, and believe it or not,” Geraldine said, “sometimes I’m as dumb as a sack of bricks and stubborn as cement, all fight and little thought until the consequences are spilled at my feet. We aren’t superwomen, Freya. You aren’t, I’m not, Gaea isn’t—”

“Helena wasn’t either,” Freya sulked. No, the Sohon matriarch had fought, had shown her true nature when at the breaking point, and Freya feared that the same would happen to her, whether Birathan appeared out of nowhere the next minute, the next month, or the next year. “She just…snapped.”

“And you feel like you’re gonna? Snap?”

“It changes from second to second,” Freya admitted. “One minute I want to send them off by themselves, and the next I need to hunt. I want my revenge. I felt… I feel helpless. I am not!” Her words were just as much for her mother as they were for herself. She had to believe them, shook with the conviction of it.

Geraldine said nothing but nodded as if she knew exactly what was on her daughter’s mind. Freya was certain that her mother did. For so long she had envied her mother’s strength, her take-no-bullshit mannerisms, even while longing to have Geraldine’s motherly warmth. Her mother had never been the type to coddle or to console, and whenever counsel was needed, it came a little too frankly. But it was always available.

After a moment, Geraldine slid her palms along her thighs and stood. She looked down at Freya with a nod of confidence. She reached out with her forefinger and drew a gentle line along the length of Freya’s nose.

Freya was confused. Geraldine had done it before, the endearing gesture. Freya couldn’t remember when, but she felt certain that it had happened.

“Look, Freya. I’m not gonna tell you which fights to pick and which ones to sit out, but I want to let you know that in no way should you feel that sending your males out to handle business is a sign of weakness. They are yours balls and bone. They belong to you. I can see it every time they look at you. Giving Fenris the command to bring you the spine of that asprega fucker is strength too.”

Freya didn’t know how to react. Her mother’s words held the weight of common sense. She could see the logic yet fought to retain the demands of her pride. “I want to see him dead, Ma.”

Geraldine reared back and cocked a brow. “You don’t trust Fenris? You seemed to trust him well enough when you influenced him, a Luna, to back down.”

Of course she trusted her mate. She just didn’t trust being alone. “Ma…”

“It’s okay, baby. I didn’t have a war machine. I didn’t have a witch-wolf either, but you should know that the only thing I did when I was pregnant with you was eat cheeseburgers by the sackful and ice cream by the gallon. And watch television. I never fought while I carried you. I wasn’t
that
badass.”

Freya wasn’t going to say it. She wanted to wail and scream that she wouldn’t be safe, but even she refused to accept that would ever be the motherfucking case. “It’s not about me being badass!”

“No.” Geraldine nodded. “It’s about you feeling vulnerable. And you are. Killing that beast with your bare hands won’t change that. Every time your cub stirs within your belly, you are vulnerable, and you are victorious,” she said, her eyes going to Freya’s belly. “You’re already in a war. You know how to attack. You’re my child.” Holding her chin high, Geraldine smiled proudly. “I only hope and pray you guard just as good.”

In that simple gesture, Freya found more strength than any amount of coddling, pity, or empathy could ever generate. Geraldine had never made her feel as if she was incapable, and Freya found that she was grateful for it.

Geraldine moved to the door and eased it open. “I’ll send your boys back. They didn’t go far. I can scent them from here.”

Freya nodded. She felt too weary to move, her thoughts too heavy to sort. Geraldine had pulled aside the curtain to the truth, and it had taken nearly all of Freya’s impetus away. More than anything, Freya wanted only to stretch out on the bed and let her mind drift. She didn’t want to think of Birathan, of the missing mothers, of Di’Amanda or Emily, of anything.

“Gaea made you some meat pies. She and I will remain here. As for the pies, I’ll let the omega know to bring some up,” Geraldine added before slipping from the room.

Alone, Freya lay back upon the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was then that she recalled the last time that her mother had traced her nose. She had been five years old, and she had told her mother she wanted to learn how to fight.

Geraldine had run a finger down her nose and smiled. Her mother had then done the same to the rag doll that Freya carried.

Chapter Eighteen

Freya had made up her mind not to go, but she couldn’t form the words to tell Fenris and Rayne when they finally returned to the room. They had been briefed by Vaegar and shared the information with her. Freya at least had an idea of what elements were being prepared, ordered, and were waiting for the reconnaissance needed in order to spring into action. Freya scoffed at the notion of their efforts, knowing that the true key to finding the females and cubs was Rayne. Without him, they would be taking blind swings in the dark, wasting time on hunting down leads and searching for clues.

Fenris had asked repeatedly if she was okay, as if her mother might have traumatized her, but Freya simply ordered him and Rayne to get dressed.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and Rayne was still seated upon the floor of the bedroom in a trance. Freya was on the bed, back in Fenris’s arms with Ezra in hers. Silently, they waited and watched.

Fenris swore that he didn’t know what signs to expect, but Freya was keen for any disturbance in the air, any flicker in the corner of her vision that would indicate that something was teleporting into the room…be it wytchen or asprega.

Rayne’s face was a beautiful mask of concentration, his jaw sternly set. Occasionally his lips moved, as if he were in conversation with some phantom, but no words could be heard. Apparently, convincing Dona to help them would not be a simple task.

Freya had every confidence that her beta would be successful and was eager for the event—curious as to what her infamous father-in-law looked like, how he would behave, and whether or not she would have to choke the hell out of him just to get his help.

“What the fuck is his father doing that he can’t even answer his son’s call?” Freya looked over her shoulder and up at Fenris.

Fenris shrugged. “He will answer eventually. They could even be speaking now. Rayne can lose track of time when he is in the trance, but Dona has never ignored him; the opposite actually. His father does love him in his own weird way. Us, however”—he scoffed—“not so much.”

She didn’t know exactly what to say to Fenris’s comment that wouldn’t have sounded like an insult, so Freya held her tongue. Praying for patience, she closed her eyes and imagined all the ways her revenge could occur: by her hand, by her mates’, even by nature. It gave her solace.

She had almost drifted off when a pressure against her bladder snapped her awake. She eased her arms from around Ezra’s softly snoring frame and nudged Fenris to release her.

“What’s wrong?”

Freya could think of a million things, but the most imminent at the moment was the critter throwing a tantrum in her womb. She tried to angle Ezra down upon the bed without waking him, but he stirred anyway, turning to her with a curious yawn.

“Bun is punishing my bladder,” she said. “Gotta go.”

Ezra rolled off her to the bed.

Freya scooted over to the edge of the bed. No sooner did her feet hit the ground than Fenris followed. She turned, curious as to where her new shadow intended to go. “I can pee on my own, thank you. I’m okay.”

Fenris scowled, looming over her like a disapproving father. “Freya?”

“Fenris?” she queried back, waiting for his reasoning. After a lengthy stare down, her alpha stepped back. She could appreciate him being protective. Heaven knew that she had needed it, but she would have to stand on her own eventually, and starting off to the attached master bathroom, she looked at Rayne and declared now the perfect time. She stepped inside and pushed at the door, leaving it cracked no more than an inch before heading over to the toilet.