TWENTY-ONE
MAGNI
I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any shittier than I had when the Lokissons had bested me back in the glade—and yet there I was, sprawled alongside the road without even a view of the night sky. Not that I could have seen it anyway with the rain coming down in sheets that had soaked me through long before I’d toppled over like an old log. My face was in the mud, some of which had made it into my nose and mouth, and I was too weak to do anything about it besides wheeze.
I should have gotten my a*s back to Asgard. I should have at least tried. With my arm the way it was and the rest of my body slowly deteriorating in kind, the last thing I needed was to pursue my wayward mate across what amounted to the Asgardian backwoods.
I needed healing. I needed rest. I need
