The Omega Prophecy

4. Annabel-1

FOUR

ANNABEL

“Father called,” Saga said on his way back from the kitchen where the Lokissons kept their landline. “They won’t be able to make it back while the storm’s raging.”

I glanced up at him from where I’d curled up on the couch after dinner, a thick woolen blanket around me. Bjarni, surprisingly an avid home cook, had produced enough food to feed an army and insisted I finish two full plates before he let me leave the table. I’d been digesting for the past two and a half hours.

“I didn’t hear the phone ring,” I said, the weirdly formal way Saga talked about his dad pulling me somewhat out of my food coma. That, and the prospect of being all alone with the three brothers overnight. A sliver of unease made its way past my sleepy contentment. The snow must have been several inches deep outside by now, the fierce mountain wind tapping on the sliding glass doors like an unwelcome friend seeking entry. Bjarni had lit the fireplace some time ago, but the howl of the storm made me shiver despite the warmth of the flames and the thick blanket cocooning me.

Saga didn’t answer, and the sense of unease tingling at the base of my spine built.

“How long does this sort of weather usually last?” I asked as he sat down at the other end of the sofa, cool gray eyes locked on me as I fidgeted under the blanket.

“Usually we don’t have snowstorms this late in the spring.” The non-answer didn’t come from Saga, and I jolted when I realized Grim was in the room. I twisted around to see he was standing by the big windows overlooking the fish pond. He had his back turned to the nook where I was curled up, seemingly lost in thought as he watched the snow tumbling down. His arms were folded across the wide expanse of his chest. The muscles beneath were so tightly wound I was worried the cords in his neck would snap.

“Usually it takes a couple of days tops, if it’s a bad one,” Saga offered, flashing me an easy smile. “Don’t mind him—we’re far enough north that the weather’s always a bit unpredictable. You’re perfectly safe, sweetling.”

A couple of days. Alone, with the Lokissons. I rubbed my hands along my thighs underneath the blanket, trying to ease the tingle of awareness in my skin.

“Are you feeling all right, Annabel? You look flushed.” For once, Saga didn’t smirk at me, but his darkened gaze unsettled me. His pupils seemed larger than normal, something about the way he tried to suppress rolling his shoulder as he looked at me setting me on edge.

“I’m fine,” I rasped, coughing to clear my throat as I fidgeted under his stare. “Just jetlagged.”

Bjarni chose that moment to push open the door from the kitchen. He was like a breath of fresh air, dispersing the beginning tension in the room with his broad smile and a waft of chocolate following him. He had two large mugs of hot cocoa in his hands.

“Nothing like storm cocoa, hmm, sweetie?” His frosty eyes sparkling as he offered me a steaming mug, handle first. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you.” I forced a smile when he sat down right next to me, not in the least worried about such concepts as personal space.

“No cocoa for me, brother?” Saga’s tone was sardonic as he watched Bjarni slip underneath my blanket as if I’d invited him and casually slung an arm over the back of the sofa behind me.

“You know where the kitchen is,” Bjarni rumbled, without bothering to look in his direction.

I stiffened at the alpha’s uninvited closeness, but the bear of a man didn’t try to touch me this time. He just leaned back by my side, stretching his long legs out on the wide chaise longue and blew into his mug.

I guess so long as he didn’t start sniffing me again... I shot him a cautious side-glance before I looked into my own mug. At least two dozen tiny marshmallows bobbed on the surface of the sea of hot cocoa.

My forced smile softened.

Out of the three alphas, Bjarni made me feel the most at ease. Though earlier he’d practically mauled me in the stables, his demeanor was neither mocking like Saga’s nor cold and scary like Grim’s. His powerful build and the masculine scent that clung to him was all alpha, but there was an affability to him, an irreverence, as well as a consideration that bordered on tenderness.

“Thank you,” I said again.

He winked at me over the rim of his mug with a smile that made the heat from the mug warming my hands travel to my abdomen, easing the tension there just a little.

We sat in comfortable quietude for a while, the roar of the storm as it beat against the windows and howled down through the chimney.

I sipped my cocoa and, at first, relished the warmth it spread through my body. But soon, the heat from it, as well as the fire and my woolen blanket became too much. I kicked off the blanket and rubbed the back of a hand over my forehead. It felt warm and damp against my dry hands.

“Is the temperature heating up again?” I asked, casting a look out the dark windows where Grim was still standing like a sentinel with his back turned. Despite the darkness outside it was impossible to miss the flurries of snow beating against the large panes of glass.

“It won’t be warm again for a very long time,” Grim said, voice dark and solemn. Despite my rising body temperature, a chill traveled up my spine at the sound of it. The third Lokisson affected me in ways I didn’t understand. It wasn’t in the same way as his two brothers, though he was certainly every bit the rugged alpha they were. He didn’t set me on edge because I thought he might get too handsy if I didn’t stay on guard—far from it. No, it was that every time I was in his presence, that persistent sense of déjà vu set in, coupled with a dark sense of foreboding. A coldness, gripping my gut in a tight squeeze.

“You all right?” Bjarni asked, an eyebrow c****d as he looked at me.

I touched my mug-free hand to my face, finding it scalding to the touch. But my mind wasn’t hazed or feverish, If anything, I felt… alert.

I was definitely coming down with something. “I… think I need some water,” I mumbled, pushing out from our shared blanket to set the mug down.

The three of them looked at me then, even Grim, and there was a matching darkness in all their gazes I didn’t understand.

They watched me stumble toward the kitchen in silence. I pushed through the door and headed for the sink. The moment I reached it, the room spun. I grimaced and closed my eyes to stop it. When I opened them again, Bjarni and Saga were on each side of me. I hadn’t even heard them move.

“You need to lie down, Annabel,” Saga said, the words rough on his soft lips.

“Let us take you to your room,” Bjarni agreed. Even his deep voice was pitched lower than normal. He wrapped a strong hand gently but firmly around my upper arm, anchoring me like a tether made of cast iron.

“No, that’s fine, I can make it there on my own,” I said, swallowing thickly as my pulse sped up. Something about their presence, from the rumble in their voices to their flared nostrils and their invasion of my personal space set me on edge. But despite that, and the nagging discomfort of instincts stirred from the close proximity of two alphas, part of me… wanted them to move in closer. My abdomen cramped, ligaments pulling tightly.

I bit down on a pained groan and shook Bjarni off so I could reach for a glass. I filled it with shaking hands and downed its content in three deep gulps.

When I turned back around from the sink, both Bjarni and Saga had taut expressions on their faces, hackles raised as though they planned to move in, to force me back until I hit the refrigerator. For the briefest moment, I imagined what a rough alpha like Saga would do to me if I let myself get caught in a vulnerable position. I could almost feel the cool nip of the fridge door cracking open at his behest, only for him to slam it shut again, my hair caught in the jamb to ensure I couldn’t move—that my throat was bared to him as he leaned down close to my ear and snarled.

This time, the pang from my abdomen almost doubled me over. This had to be a stomach thing, some virus I’d picked up on the way over. Didn’t they say planes were basically flying cesspools?

“Let her get some rest.” I hadn’t noticed Grim slipping into the kitchen, but suddenly he was there, a cold darkness filling the room and calming the smolder in my blood. “She’s not well.”

Saga let out a frustrated snarl as the two blond men turned to their brother, finally taking their focus off me. Breathing seemed easier all of a sudden.

“We only want to help her—remember?” Saga said, barely containing a low growl to his chest.

“She will let you know when she needs our help,” Grim said, folding his arms across his wide chest as he stared his brother down. “Let her go to bed.”

Saga narrowed his eyes, but Bjarni breathed deeply through his nose and stepped away from me. “He’s right. Go rest, Annabel.”

I glanced from Bjarni to Saga and back to Grim, the tension between them spreading goosebumps along my skin. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but I got the distinct impression Grim had saved me from… something. Something I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be saved from, yet the creeping fear up along my spine was impossible to ignore.

“Now.” Grim’s voice was quiet, but the ring of command was unmistakable.

“O-okay. Goodnight,” I croaked. Feeling light-headed yet like lead was weighing down my abdomen, I turned and stumbled out of the kitchen, past the three tense alphas and down the hallway to my bedroom.

I’d barely made it to the door before the cramping returned with a vengeance, my muscles seizing all the way to my spine.

“f**k,” I muttered as I pushed open the door into my darkened room. Fumbling for the light switch with one hand, I managed to scramble inside and then closed the door and leaned bodily against it. Whatever the hell was wrong with me, it seemed I’d only earned a brief reprieve. Still, I was thankful for it. Better to be sick in my room than in the truck on the way here, or at the stables.

I tried to distract myself by surveying the room. I hadn’t had much of a chance as I dropped off my luggage after visiting the stables, but it was kept in the same luxuriously sparse style as the rest of the Lokisson farm. Warm wood covered floors and ceiling, and the pretty lamps on the walls cast a cozy glow around the room. The dominant piece of furniture was a king sized bed with a gray sheepskin sprawled over fluffy pillow and comforters, while two doors led to the small walk-in closet and a spacious en suite.

At this time, I was mostly interested in the bed—namely how damn comfortable it looked. With a groan, I threw myself upon it, sprawling on top of the sheepskin to stare at the ceiling fan spinning cotton candy shadows onto the ceiling. Why they’d turned it on when the snowstorm was shrieking outside I didn’t know, but I was grateful nonetheless.

Even with it on, it was still hot. It had to be the fireplace. The brothers had probably kicked on the central heating too. But it seemed to be working a little too well; my hair was sticking to my nape, errant strands of it now stiff with salt.

“Gross,” I muttered, sitting up to unpack a few of my things. The moment I did, the world tilted much too fast. I laid back down as swiftly and carefully as I could. Fine, no pajamas. I’d sleep in the nude. It was too damn hot for flannel.

I tugged off my jeans, instantly soothed by the lack of thick denim clinging to my skin. My sweater came next, and then my b*a, and finally my panties. I had to peel them loose; as much as I would have liked to have chalked it up to sweat, there was another layer of slickness between my thighs. An unmistakable one.

Dammit. As much as my brain hated the stunts these assholes were pulling, my body was on a different wavelength. Objectively speaking, they were an attractive bunch—Bjarni and Saga were the epitome of tall, blond, and Scandinavian, while Grim was tantalizingly… not. And that polarity was just as sexy as the similarities between the other two.