Sleipnir

Chapter Eighteen

Odin exploded to his feet, fists clenched. His flame-red eye blazed. Released from momentary paralysis, the wolves leaped to the ends of their chains, snapping and snarling in belated efforts to reach me. I ignored them. I didn't bother even to glance over my shoulder—when you're that badly outnumbered details don't matter.

The one-eyed god snatched up an enormous war axe and raised his arm to hurl it. Bunched muscles on his throwing arm flexed, and I prepared to dodge—

And an outraged bellow rose from thousands of throats.

Odin paused. I resisted the temptation to glance around. What was going on? His eye flicked over the assembled host, which peripheral vision told me had surged to its collective feet. Then his gaze returned to me. He regarded me the way a man might watch a rattler he'd accidentally roused in the grass—only to discover that it was a cobra instead.

His expression reminded me of the hopelessly mad Loki. Slowly, and with the reluctance of a man forced to surrender at gunpoint, he lowered the axe again.

"Now is the time for feasting," he growled unpleasantly. "No battle is joined in Valhalla while feasting continues."

Ahh... No wonder the Einherjar had protested earlier. It wasn't personal; they'd just been enforcing the rules, with Thor acting as Sergeant-at-Arms.

"Never let it be said," Odin muttered, "that I have dealt dishonorably in my own hall."

Huh. He could deal dishonorably all he wanted outside; just not at home, eh? Made sense—he'd lose the loyalty of the Einherjar if he broke that particular oath in front of them.

"Rangrid." Odin's voice had gone oily smooth. "See that our guest is properly entertained for the evening. This is his last mortal night. I would not have it said he spent it unhappily under my roof."

"Yes, lord," she answered, her voice uncertain.

I hadn't taken my eyes off Odin, despite his apparent capitulation. He had resumed his seat and was stroking his ravens to calm. He still watched me narrowly; but he had relaxed back into the throne. I concluded that—for the night, anyway—I was probably safe enough. I began warily to relax. Odin noticed, and accorded me a nasty little smile, but kept petting his birds. I turned my attention to the valkyrie. She was supposed to "entertain" me, eh? This might not be such a bad deal, at that... .

Rangrid twisted around in her saddle. "Coming?" she asked.

"Oh, I do hope so," I answered with a slow grin and a raking stare, "but that'll probably depend on you." I leaned easily back against the edge of the table.

A great bellow of laughter spread in a receding wave as the joke was repeated down the length of Valhalla. Even Odin roared appreciatively. Rangrid actually turned scarlet under her armor.

I heard her mutter, "Just wait until I get you alone."

The laughter redoubled when she grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me across her lap. One shapely hand smacked against my ass with enough force to sting.

"Rangrid," I said in mock surprise, "do you like spankings? For shame, and here I thought you were a nice girl." I twisted around, and gri

She seethed in silence. The nearest warriors fell over each other laughing. My discomfited valkyrie put heels sharply to her stallion's flanks. The warhorse snorted and bounced once; I grunted sharply and decided to cease and desist—until I was in a better bargaining position. We rode out through a side doorway big enough to drive a Clydesdale forty-horse hitch through, and left behind the hooting and cheering.

To my vast relief, the first thing Rangrid did was send away her horse. She removed his tack, slapped him on the rump, and sent him trotting down an interior hallway toward a slave who waited with a bucket and halter. The saddle and bridle she dumped onto a rack; then she led me through yet another door into a suite of private rooms. These chambers were delightfully free of the scents of spilled mead, unwashed corpses, horse sweat, manure, and hay dust—of which the outer chambers and corridors reeked.

"I didn't know Viking halls were laid out this way," I observed wryly. "I thought it was a free-for-all in one big room."

She smiled. "Oh, we valkyries haven't lived out in the main chamber in centuries; not since separate bedrooms were invented."

She peeled off layers of armor, and I watched in fascination as tantalizing bits of her became visible. Once she was down to a linen undergarment that clung sweatily, she pulled her long hair up, and tied it in place, lifting her breasts delightfully beneath the nearly transparent linen. Then she turned to me.

"First, a bath."

I glanced down at myself. My clothes were in tatters, I was filthy from head to foot, and there were acid burns on my skin.

I gri

She laughed delightedly and turned to lead the way into an adjoining chamber. The sway of her hips under the short linen shirt was hypnotic. I followed her like a mesmerized rat chasing the Pied Piper. Once I'd stepped through the doorway, I stopped abruptly.

"Well, I'll be damned... ."

She crooked a brow and her lips twitched. I laughed out loud. Sitting in the center of the room, raised a few inches above a bed of glowing coals, was an enormous oaken barrel full of steaming water. I dumped battered web gear and ski

"There." She eyed me critically from where she knelt. "Yes, a good hard scrubbing will work wonders, I think. I do believe there's quite a man underneath all that dirt."

At the very least, there was quite a bit of me saluting her enthusiastically at her current eye level.

She rose gracefully and pulled off the damp linen in one smooth motion, treating me to a shapely back, trim waist, and firm buttocks. I groaned, and staggered after her.

"Unh-uh, not till we're both squeaky clean," she scolded when I reached out. "In you go." She pointed imperiously at the waiting tub.

I settled into the hot water with a delicious sigh. I closed my eyes, and let the heat soak into my bones. I heard her slip in beside me, and made a pleased sound deep in my throat as she began rubbing me from one end to the other with soap. When her hands roamed between my legs, my breath hissed out between my teeth. She laughed softly, and water flooded my eyes and nose. I coughed and spluttered as she dumped another basin of water over my head and went to work on my filthy hair.

"Witch," I muttered, trying to lean close enough to kiss her.

"Close your eyes before you get soap in them," she commanded.

I obeyed, and she rinsed my hair until it squeaked to her satisfaction.

"All right, lover; your turn."

She handed me the soap, leaned back, and waited.

I rose to the occasion.

Rangrid was soft and warm and slippery. I caressed every inch of her, teasing until she moaned. I soaped the length of her lovely back, and delicately nibbled at the base of her neck. She shivered. I licked her earlobes, then tugged gently on them with my teeth. Her head came back against my chest, and I reached around to trace her lips with one wet finger. She kissed it dry.

I trapped her against my chest and reached around to move my soapy hands across her until her breath came in soft little gasps. She shuddered once, and closed her eyes. A smile played across her lips. I ended by turning her around, and kneaded each foot in turn. I rubbed the insteps, digging in hard with both thumbs, and gently pulled on the toes, until she lay limply against the edge of the hot tub, head back and eyes closed.