SEVEN
SAGA
They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but I begged to differ—Hel hath no fury like an alpha forced to chase down an uppity little omega in the middle of a snowstorm.
And not just any snowstorm, either. This was the beginning of the Fimbulwinter, a herald of Ragnarök. I hadn’t planned on seeing it come to pass—the way Arni and Magga had told it, the girl would be a sure thing from the start—but I should have known better, really. Modern women were pains in the a*s. How long had it taken madam to get her sweet behind to Iceland? Oh, just a f*****g decade!
Her parents had hemmed and hawed, unwilling to send their daughter to us even though the goddamn contract was binding. A thousand years it’d been since Arni and Magga secured an oath from the family foreseen to pro
