Fenrir
“You have five seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doing here.” I slam my office door and walk around my desk, taking a seat. In this room, my brother and I will speak Old Norse. My pack believes my family is from Norway, so if they do happen to hear us talking, they won’t understand what we’re saying, but it won’t seem unusual to them.
Jörmungandr stares at me with a raised eyebrow. He sits in the seat in front of my desk and adjusts the black suit jacket he’s wearing.
“I don’t know how humans wear these things. What happened to loose-fitting garments?”
“They still wear them,” I mumble. “Now get to the point, Jörmungandr,”
“Heard you go by the name Finn here. That’s what I read in the little dark girl's head. She’s an exquisite-looking woman, by the way.”
I roll my eyes.
