Fenris shook his head. “No. It was not. There are those who might say we were lucky.” He rubbed the gray material of his pants that Jamie had called

“sweats” and thought of the brothers he’d never have a chance to know. “We lived.”

Two Months Later…

Jeff stared down at the no-longer-filthy, absolutely hunkalicious man currently sleeping in his bed and frowned. He still wasn’t sure when he’d signed up to be doggy daycare, but there he was. Fenris. The ultimate pissed-off werewolf, son of Loki and the Jotun Angrboda, killer of gods and small fuzzy animals, had his hand curled under his cheek like a child. His long, dark hair was freshly washed, just a hint of his father’s red shining through the thick, dark locks. He had the most beautiful eyes Jeff could ever remember seeing, a true golden brown that shimmered when the light hit them just so. He had a body that had Jeff panting for a taste. He was wide-eyed with wonder one minute and severely over-protective the next, constantly placing himself between Jeff and Travis as if he thought Travis would go all rabid on Jeff’s ass at any moment.

And his laugh made Jeff smile, so full of joy it was even more beautiful than the man’s face. Watching him master the Wii and televisions and microwave ovens had been an adventure, especially when Fen forgot to take the spoon out of the soup he was reheating. He was everything Jeff had ever daydreamed about tangled up in green cotton sheets.

How the hell did someone like Fen wind up sleeping in Jeffrey Grimm’s bed?

Jeff was still having trouble processing it. He had fucking Fenris sleeping in his bed, all curled up like… Well, like a dog. He stifled a chuckle, not wanting to wake his new house pet up. He reached over and pulled up the comforter, covering the naked man’s tempting backside, front side and everything in between. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through that dark hair, knowing it would only lead to Bad Things.

His last Bad Thing had left him with a sore butt and a two-thousand-dollar casino debt in Atlantic City. He was so done with Bad Things.

Jeff backed slowly out of the bedroom and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. If this situation didn’t require a stiff one he didn’t know what did. He reached down into the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of Krogstad Aquavit, a taste he’d acquired on his twenty-first birthday when his father had taken him out and bought him his first drink. He poured himself a shot of the strong, star anise-flavored liquor and threw it back. The burn as it slid down his throat was just what he needed to end a really long day.

Logan, Kir and Jordan were gone, presumably visiting Hel, and didn’t that just freak him the hell out. He smothered a chuckle at his unintentional pun, unwilling to wake Fenris. Morgan and Magnus had left before Jeff, Travis and Jamie and still hadn’t returned. They’d warned him that the trip over the Bifrost Bridge could take a while, especially since they had to hide from Grimm, but he hadn’t expected it to take almost two freakin’ months.

So here he was, with Fenris in his bed. Every night he said good-night and curled up on the sofa. And every night, Fenris picked him up, carried him to bed and curled around him as if Jeff were his favorite squeaky toy.

The situation between Fen and Travis was simple now. Fenris growled when he saw Travis. Travis kept Jamie away from Fenris. And Jeff and Jamie got to meet in the corridor outside their condos. He was coming to hate that gold-patterned carpet. At least the neighbors didn’t complain when he and Jamie set up an impromptu bowling alley at two in the morning.

Teaching Fenris was turning out to be a full-time job. At least Fenris was adapting to things like speaking and toilet paper and when not to chew on the furniture.

Okay, so they were still working on that last one, but he’d gotten a lot better about it in the last two weeks. Squirt bottles worked wonders.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. He ran to grab it before the sound could wake up Fenris. “Hello?”

There was a pause before a hesitant voice replied. “Jeff?”

Jeff damn near hung up the phone. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to speak to your father?”

“Am I speaking to Fred Grimm or Thor?”

Fred Grimm sighed. “Jeff.”

Only his father could make him feel guilty even when he knew he was right, and that pissed him off. “Beat anyone up lately?”

“Stop it. I want to talk to you.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Don’t you hang up the phone, young man!”

“Why should I listen to you? Do you know what’s been happening to us? Do you even care?” Jeff was hissing into the phone, too angry not to show it but unwilling to wake Fen up.

“I know.”

Jeff paused. The agony in his father’s voice… “About Jamie.”

“Yes.”

“So why haven’t you visited?”

“Can I? Can I really? Or will your sister’s lovers kill me on sight?”

“We needed you, Dad. Jamie needed you.”

“If I could have I would have been there.”

“How much juice have you had recently?”

His father growled. “None since Jamie.” In the distance thunder sounded.

Kir might be the God of Spring, and thus spring storms, but Thor was the God of Thunder and therefore violent weather. Jeff bet if his father wished it there’d be a damn tsunami in the Delaware River. “Adam feels the same way. Your grandfather has a lot to answer for.”

Jeff shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t think I can talk to you. Not yet.” Not until Jamie forgave their father.

Fred sighed, the sound weary and defeated. “Then there’s no use in calling your sisters, is there?”

“No. Not for a while.”

“I love you, son. Please, never doubt that. Maybe someday you can forgive me.”

Not yet, he couldn’t. Maybe not ever. “We’ll see.”

The phone call ended with neither of them saying good-bye.

He poured himself another shot, put the bottle away and ambled over to his huge leather sofa. He flopped down into it, the still unfamiliar scent of new leather and furniture polish making him wince. When Logan had told him he’d have his own million-dollar condo in this building right off of Rittenhouse Square, he’d been thrilled. He’d always been an uptown boy with a downtown budget, so he’d barely waved good-bye before shutting the door on his tiny studio apartment and moved into what was supposed to be paradise. He’d taken the key with the wolf’s head and hadn’t looked back.

Then he’d opened the front door.

Everything in his new condo was made of dark, sturdy, thick woods, thick leather upholstery and tile. The chocolate brown leather sofa was flanked on either side by two carved wooden chairs with leather cushions. Each chair was carved with stylized Norwegian wolf’s heads on the ends of the arms. The gray and tan slate tile floors complimented the mocha colors of the walls and the darkness of the furniture. The big flat-screen TV had two video game consoles hooked up to it with four controllers each. They rested on another hand-carved piece of furniture that reminded him of Norway. This one had boats and dragons and shit all over it.

Jeff loved his roots, but c’mon. It was a little too much Norway in his living room. He had the weirdest urge to put a horned helmet on his head, march his ass down to Jordan’s condo and threaten Logan with his spear.

With the way his luck was going Logan would take him up on it and Jordan and Kir would kill Jeff.

Still. He’d seriously consider giving his left nut for some mid-century modern.

He propped his feet up on the hand-painted chest that served as a coffee table. From behind him the sound of deep, bone-rattling snores emitted from his bedroom, proof that Mr. Perfect wasn’t quite so perfect after all. Jeff rolled his eyes and downed the second shot. “Why does this shit keep happening to me?”