Read A Guardians Passion Online
Authors: Mya Lairis
A Guardians Passion
A GUARDIAN’S PASSION
Mya Lairis
www.loose-id.com
A Guardian’s Passion
Copyright © May 2014 by Mya Lairis
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Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
eISBN 9781623007942
Editor: Jana Armstrong
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone
Published in the United States of America
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
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Dedication
I would like to thank all those who kept pushing me for a sequel to Freya’s tale and who encouraged me to believe that it could be done. This book is dedicated to Ashley Dickerson, my ever enthusiastic assistant and cheerleader; to my mom, Viola, who was always wondering when I would get back to that werewolf story; and to my BFF, Sandy Malone, who always inspires me to work harder and have fabulous dinner parties. I would especially like to thank my diligent and kind editor, Jana Armstrong, and Loose Id publishing for their outstanding support over the years!
Prologue
Freya blamed the slow pace of her morning jog on the crisp three-inch layer of snow. The cool air surrounding her convinced her that she wasn’t nearly as hot or winded as she thought she was, while the extra weight she carried suggested otherwise. What had once been a ten-mile exercise had shortened to two at most. However, Freya was determined to stay sharp.
She reached the lodge, aching, chest heaving, but not ready for rest. She intended to complement her morning cardio with a series of chores out back. There was wood that needed to be chopped, coal that needed to be shoveled, and cleanup around the hot tubs, and with any luck, she would be able to do it alone.
If fate was on her side, then Fenris and Rayne would still be in bed, sated and snoring. Freya had made sure to ride Fenris hard the night before, biting his neck all the while. Rayne had taken a good deal of pleasure from her ass, and both of her mates had bellies full of milk before bed.
Please just give me until nine
, she prayed, giving a glance to the back door. Fortunately, it was still shut.
She went to retrieve the ax from the shed before walking over to the large pile of wood. She placed a thick log on the chopping block, set it upright, and got to work. Her arms burned with the exertion of every swing—good pain, she felt—measuring and slicing perfect widths of wood for the fireplaces and stoves.
Freya made her way through several logs before she took a break. She wiped the sweat that had gathered upon her brow as she considered her pile of finished work. Upon the air, she could smell the rich scent of sausages, eggs, and steaks drifting out of the lodge’s smokestack. Although her belly rumbled in longing, she was much too busy reveling in the high of well-worked muscles to think of breakfast. Time was short. With breakfast started, it wouldn’t take long for wolves to rise.
She set up another log to be split in half, steadying it as she heard the sound she had been dreading all morning.
The back door opened, and a giantess emerged out into the crisp cold. Gaea was an impressive woman; for Freya to admit to it was saying a lot. At four inches short of seven feet tall, Gaea was an impressive woman. Her arms were thick, corded bands of muscle, visible even beneath her cotton shirt. She wore her white-blonde hair parted down the center into two thick plaits, which fell over her shoulders. She had features that could be stern one moment and angelic the next, but there was no mistake that Gaea was a warrior. Even with her dark blue eyes at half-mast, Freya’s mother-in-law betrayed no weakness.
With a tall mug of aromatic mead clutched tightly in her grip, Gaea joined Freya at the woodpile. She gazed hard, scrutinizing Freya from head to toe before taking a long pull from her drink.
Freya didn’t have to wait long for the appraisal she knew was soon to come.
Gaea didn’t disappoint. “You do know that Fenris won’t tolerate this for much longer, don’t you?”
Freya dropped the ax with a powerful swing into the wood. The cloven halves didn’t fall to the ground; they flew several feet away, leaving the ax buried in the block. Freya barely noted it. “Do I look like I’m worried? He can roar all he wants.” She went over to kick the stray log back near the pile she had already started. “Shit. I can roar too.”
Gaea chuckled, her voice much softer than her appearance would have led someone to expect. She muttered something in Icelandic before adding, “Hmm. You poor thing.”
Freya met Gaea’s eyes, growling at the pity wafting her way. “Poor thing.” She balked. “I’ve handled worse than this. Maybe not worse than your son and our damn beta, but if they expect me to lie around, fatten up, and wait for them to wait on me, they can forget that shit. They knew what they were getting into when they presented the mating contract in the first damn place.”
“Freya, I’m sure that’s not what Fenris or Rayne want, but you know—males worry. I’m not saying that you neglect your exercise entirely, but perhaps something a little less obviously strenuous, maybe?”
Freya retrieved the ax and raised it over her shoulder, allowing the handle to rest there. She scowled at her fair-skinned mother-in-law, burning from both exertion and jealousy. “You sit there drinking, what, your third mead of the day, when I can’t drink a drop, and you’re telling me to take it easy? I need to do something, Gaea. I can’t get soft.”
“There’s very little soft about you, child. But even the strongest need to take it easy sometimes.” As if Freya had never chided her about her drinking, Gaea lifted the mug and took two hearty gulps. She licked her lips when done.
Freya returned to her pile of wood and snatched up a fresh log. She had no intention of watching when the scent of the mead alone was driving her up the wall. “Are you gonna start in on my mother? Oh, wait. Maybe your
own
experiences again? I don’t need to hear about all that ‘back in the day’ bullshit.”
“Oh no. Not at all. Your experience is far different from mine or Gerry’s. No. You have a very unique situation indeed. You know what?”
Freya sliced into another log, splitting it evenly before curiosity got the better of her. “What?”
“Here’s the thing. You have two males, two very grumpy ones. They want to cater to you, and I’m only saying don’t deny them the opportunity. They know you’re not weak or soft.”
Freya shook her head, knowing that Gaea had to have had some coaching. She had been living with the woman for nearly seven months, and Gaea had never tried the sympathetic card before. “Has Fen come crying to his ma?” she wondered aloud.
Gaea shook her head regretfully. “No. I wish he had. I wish that he would. But he’s far too busy brooding for that. He is my boy, though, and he is concerned. I know him. I see the way he watches you and worries for you.”
Freya tossed the ax upon the ground. She attempted to bend straight down to gather the many logs she had split; they needed to be taken to the pile and stacked. Yet bending over was not as easy as it had once been. She had to squat. She shoved several pieces of wood into the crook of an arm and strode over to the metal bin where the logs were kept. “No need. When I’m ready to take it easy, I will. No sooner. No later.”
“They are both worried for the cub too, Freya.”
She heaved the wood into the receptacle and looked down at her rounded belly. She ran her palm over the swell beneath her heavy gray shirt. Despite her irritation, Freya couldn’t help but smile as her son shifted within her womb. “My Bun is fine. Gonna be healthy and strong. Aren’t you, Bun?” she cooed as she patted her stomach. It was the nickname she had chosen for her child. “He’s gonna be tough. No. He
is
tough.”
Freya returned to get more wood, blowing a raspberry at her child’s grandmother.
“Freya, could I give you just a small bit of advice?”
“If you insist.”
Gaea did. “Don’t worry so. You’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. Enjoy the ride. It’s shorter than you think.”
Freya wished that she could allow her males to coddle her, but something deep within her was certain that if she allowed them to get away with their behavior while she was pregnant, then surely they would want to continue doting after. Before she knew it, there would be more cubs and more attention. Gaea had given birth to three cubs. Freya’s own mother had only had one; if there was any advice that she wanted, it would have come from the hard-ass Geraldine, but Freya didn’t dare ask. That would have been showing weakness to one harder than granite, and she had her hands full dealing with that already.
She laughed at Gaea’s proposal. “Right. Enjoy all the food you all keep piling up in front of me, allow Fen to baby me twenty-four-fucking-seven, kick back, and let Rayne nurse whenever the mood strikes. I need to get as big as a house and wallow in their attention while they work together to get me pregnant again. I don’t think so.”
Gaea shook her head but provided no counter as Freya finished her chore. For that, Freya was relieved.
From what Freya knew, her mother-in-law was a warrior-wolf, had even battled beside Freya’s mother, but unlike Gerry, Gaea was certainly more laid-back. She didn’t doubt that some of Gaea’s words were genuine, but Freya knew who pulled the puppet strings.
Sure enough, Freya caught Gaea staring at the lodge. She turned, following her mother-in-law’s gaze right to the tall, muscular, silver-blond form of Fenris.
He was leaning on the door frame, a dark scowl on his pale features. Freya did not cower beneath the dark blue gaze of her alpha. She knew that he was invariably incensed because of her physical labor—and from leaving their bed so soon—but Freya showed no remorse. Instead she raised her chin defiantly. “You need something?”