Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3 Read Free

stop.
    “We will return with you, Odin, but whether or not Fenrir will transform back into a wolf is not up to me.”
    *
    Running his hand through Freki’s ruff while Geri sat at his feet, Odin closed his eyes against the bloody images burned into his retinas. He could not believe what he’d seen. The women at the brothel were not the only ones to have suffered at Fenrir’s hand, but at least they were still breathing. Fenrir had laid waste to the men at the tavern. Not one of them had survived his fury. Arms and legs had been removed; hearts had been dug from chests as if Fenrir had wolf’s claws rather than a man’s fingers.
    Odin knew Fenrir was a dangerous creature, but Loki was starting to look more dangerous. His unpredictability alone was enough to warrant a higher degree of caution. Fenrir’s many years of restriction to Asgard were necessary, but now Odin realized that he’d grown lax, especially in his vigilance of Loki.
    With a thought, Odin faded from his palace in Asgard and traveled to Nidavellir, to the home of the dwarves. It was a dark land with impenetrable, black, jagged mountains rising from the ground like daggers. The air was infused with petrichor, the smell of rain on dry earth. A few sparse trees dotted the landscape, but serrated chunks of black stone prevented any other type of vegetation from growing. Although the sun did try to break through the thick clouds hovering over the mountains, it did little to bring any light to the landscape.
    Despite the dimness, the palatial home of the dwarf king loomed ahead of Odin. Made of gold and gems, the whole building glowed as if backlit, the gems gleaming brilliantly. A path of gold led the way to the front gates, proof of Hreidmar’s avarice. Odin walked the short length, knocking on the golden door and waiting.
    A few minutes passed and then the small sliding door in the center of the larger door slid open, revealing the stone-colored eyes and bulbous nose of a dwarf. His flinty eyes narrowed for a moment before widening.
    “All-Father? What are you doing here?”
    “I have come to see the king.”
    “Yes, of course,” the dwarf stammered, quickly sliding the door closed. The larger golden door swung open a moment later. Odin’s gaze fell low to the ground, taking in the small creature looking up at him. Only coming up to Odin’s hip, the dwarves were a small, ugly race of beings. This dwarf was dressed in a dark gray tunic and pants, both made from a rough fabric that reminded Odin of the crude shale covering the land around the palace.
    But despite their small stature and hideous appearance, the dwarves were experts in smithing and crafting, and a valuable tool to Odin.
    “Is the king expecting you?”
    Odin smiled. “No, I don’t believe he is.”
    “Follow me, then, and I’ll take you to him. He would want to see you.”
    As they walked, Odin glanced around at the building Hreidmar called home. Everywhere he looked, he saw the king’s greed. Precious rubies and diamonds were embedded in the walls, around the windows and doorways. Even the floor was inlaid with sapphires of the deepest blues and amethysts large enough to rival the size of his fist.
    They eventually came upon an intricately carved golden door, a large gilded knocker in the shape of a dragon’s head placed somewhere near Odin’s knee. As the dwarf knocked on the door, the rubies of the dragon’s eyes glittered with the movement.
    “Enter,” came the booming voice beyond the door. Odin’s escort gave him a small smile and pushed against the solid gold. Inside, Odin squinted against the brightness of the room, the sconces on the walls reflecting back the radiance of the gilded surfaces.
    “Odin, my old friend; it’s been too long,” Hreidmar said, drawing the All-Father’s attention his way. The king of the dwarves was only slightly taller than the man who had led Odin to Hreidmar, but his features were much the same.
    Flint-colored eyes.
    A large, misshapen