C13 Cinderella among the wolves

Horror hit me in the gut, cold and jagged, like a rusty blade tearing through my insides. My mind scrambled to make sense of his words, of the weight they carried. Hell—nine factions. One for humans, one for supernaturals, and the rest for the chaos in between. And the thought of a demon like King Hades ruling over one of them? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

I swallowed, my throat tight as I tried to process it. If King Hades had dominion over one faction, then who ruled the others?

“Wait,” I gasped. “What exactly is a pocket dimension?”

Fenrir let out a long breath, clearly irritated. “A pocket dimension is a contained space, a bubble, where the boundaries are held in place by a larger power—the Sixth Faction of Hell, to be specific. You still following?”

“Are you...” I could barely choke out the words. “Are you the devil who runs the Sixth?”

Fenrir stiffened. His eyes narrowed, the light from the fire casting deep shadows on his face. “That’s my sister,” he said through clenched teeth, a venomous edge in his voice.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to force the panic back down into the pit of my stomach. His sister? What kind of family were we talking about here? “Does that make you a Prince of Hell?” I barely whispered the words, my pulse racing. “Do I have to bow to you now? Call you Your Highness?”

“No,” he laughed bitterly, though it had no humor in it. “I’m not some fairytale prince.”

I opened one eye, careful not to let my gaze linger on him for too long. He was sitting beside me now, his eyes fixed on the fire as if the conversation had already worn him thin. But I couldn’t stop staring at him. His profile was perfection—sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and those eyes. Those eyes that seemed to look right through me.

A twisted knot of frustration tightened in my chest. It was maddening how his exterior could be so... perfect while his attitude was anything but.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering which question would earn me an answer that didn’t make him want to tear me apart. “If this is Hell,” I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest, “where are all the demons?”

Fenrir sighed, barely sparing me a glance. “Didn’t I just explain that?” His voice was low and rough, irritation lacing his words. “We’re in a pocket dimension.”

“But I didn’t see anyone else,” I pushed, my voice quiet, yet firm. “No demons, no souls... just plants.”

His lip curled slightly, a mockery of a smile. “Didn’t anyone teach you the difference between the living and the dead?”

I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to snap at him. He was trying to provoke me, trying to push me into a response, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Fine,” I muttered, shifting to a more direct question. “Why is it just us here? Where is everyone else?”

His gaze darkened, his eyes flickering with something dangerous. “Your beast is roaming my lands.”

My eyes narrowed. Beast? Was he talking about the wolf?

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to hide the skepticism in my expression. He was hiding something. It felt like he didn’t want to talk about the absence of other life because he’d eaten them all.

Before I could say anything more, his hands shot out, grabbing mine and pinning them above my head in a swift motion. His weight came down on me, pressing me into the furs, and my breath hitched. Had I said that out loud?

He leaned down close, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Is that what you want?” he murmured, the words laced with something dark, something that made my stomach twist in both fear and something else I couldn’t quite name.

My mouth went dry, my chest rising and falling erratically. My heart thundered in my ears, my gaze locked with his, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the pull of it, even though I knew I should look away.

“I didn’t mean to imply…” My voice faltered, and I quickly tried to backtrack. “I didn’t mean to say you’re a cannibal. It was just a slip.”

The laugh that followed was low and rich, full of something wicked. It vibrated through me, resonating in every nerve, every part of my body. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, that sense of dark promise. His proximity was overwhelming, his presence almost suffocating. He was too close—too hot, too untamed—but somehow, my body responded before my mind could catch up.

“What’s next, then?” he said, his smile sharp and dangerous, revealing his teeth. “Is this the part where you tell me, ’My, what big teeth you have’?”

I froze, the phrase ringing a bell in the back of my mind. I had heard it before... somewhere.

“Are you quoting Little Red Riding Hood?” I blurted out, my voice high and shaky. It seemed so fitting, considering the situation. The dark, hungry wolf looming over me.

His irises burned with white magic, and my stomach twisted in response, as though the intensity of his gaze was physically pulling me in. The low, guttural growl that rumbled from his chest sent a shiver through my spine, making me freeze in place.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Forget it," I muttered, my voice trembling slightly.

His breath was scorching, fanning across my skin, and for a moment, I felt a warmth radiate from him that made my insides clench. My body betrayed me—my pulse quickened, and heat spread through me, though I tried to ignore it. Thoughts of what it would be like to give in to the tension between us flickered briefly in my mind, but I pushed them down. Focus, I reminded myself, and I turned my gaze toward the fireplace instead.

The flames danced, almost as though they were awaiting Fenrir's next move.

"Let go of me," I said, twisting beneath him, my hands pressing against his chest in an attempt to shove him away. "If I said something wrong, I’m sorry."

His eyes flicked to mine, his lips curling into a snarl. "You belong to me."

My teeth ground together. Great, just great. This was the reward I got for surviving the hell I’d been through—getting trapped in a realm of fire and gods with one who could probably break me without breaking a sweat.

I sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This was probably some strange power play. A test of dominance, or whatever it was wolves did. But he wasn’t just some wolf—he was a god.

"Just tell me what you want," I said, keeping my voice steady. "And what you’re offering in return."

Fenrir paused, his grip loosening on my wrists, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said he hesitated, like he was unsure of something. After a moment, he sat back, turning to the fire, his gaze locking onto the flames.

The fire roared back to life, almost like it was eager for his attention.

“I need you to help me leave this place," Fenrir said, his voice soft but firm. "In exchange, I'll give you the strength you need to make those who wronged you pay.”

I felt the weight of his words settle over me, their significance slowly sinking in. Revenge. The promise of vengeance on those who had taken so much from me. It was tempting. So damn tempting.

I nodded, though my mind raced. "Can I ask something?"

His jaw tightened, and he flared his nostrils, his gaze still on the flames. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just annoyed, but he said nothing. I took that as permission to go on.

"Are you really a Norse god?" I asked, unsure if I should even be asking such a question.

A small, bitter laugh escaped him. "I go by many names. The Vanargand is one of them. But yes, I’m the son of Loki and Angrboda."

“And your sister... she’s... what? The devil?”

His eyes flashed, a brief flare of something ancient and untamable sparking behind them. "My sister is Hel, Queen of the Sixth Faction."

“Of Hell?” I asked cautiously.

His gaze turned to meet mine, his expression unreadable. "Naturally."

I hugged my knees to my chest, thinking about the mess I’d found myself in. There was something so chillingly casual about Fenrir’s words, as though this kind of thing was normal for him. But there was one more thing gnawing at me—something I needed to understand.

“If you can leave anytime you want, why do you need my help?”

He exploded to his feet, and I flinched, scrambling backward, fear curling in my chest. He paced the room, growling, muttering under his breath. His body tensed, his muscles flexing with each step, and his hands clenched, as though fighting to hold back a storm of rage.

I held my breath, wishing I hadn’t asked.

When he finally stopped, his gaze shot back to me, his face tight with frustration. "The only time I can step outside of this damn place is if someone sacrifices in my name. And even then, I can only move within a small radius. Thirty feet at most."

I frowned, confused. "But why do you need me? You’re a god. You can’t just break out?"

He let out a growl of frustration, then tore the pot off the tripod, barely seeming to care that it was scalding. I winced, expecting him to burn himself, but instead, he dropped the pot with a clatter, producing two ceramic bowls out of thin air.

I raised an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

He looked at me with a smirk, though there was little humor in it. "Comes with the territory."

He poured the broth into both bowls, the savory smell making my stomach growl despite myself. It was a harsh reminder of how long it had been since I’d eaten anything decent.

"The only way I get out of here is if someone sacrifices an animal to me. And even then, I’m bound to this place—this... altar. It's not freedom, it's a leash."

I swallowed, suddenly less sure about my earlier thoughts of helping him. "How long can you stay out?"

His lips curled into a bitter grin. "Until sunrise or sunset, depending on the sacrifice."

I couldn’t stop my gaze from falling to the bowl in my hands. It smelled so good, too good. My body yearned for it, but my mind was screaming to be cautious. "If I eat this... will it keep me here forever?"

Fenrir snorted, rolling his eyes. "That rule only applies to the living. You’re already dead, sweetheart. And if you try to leave without my help, the reapers will drag you straight to the Fifth Faction.”

I sagged against the back of the chair, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “I’m not evil.”

“Neither are most people here,” he replied, his tone flat. “But that doesn’t matter.”

I took a small sip, the broth rich and warm, comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. “So, why are you here?”

He looked down at his bowl, his fingers tracing the edge absently. "Two thousand years ago, something happened. The realms split, and my sister blamed me for it. She’s kept me here ever since, trapped in this place, because she’s too proud to admit she’s wrong."

"Sounds like she’s the real villain here," I muttered, before taking another sip.

Fenrir’s laugh was hollow. "Yeah, something like that."

There was a heavy silence between us. My wolf—the part of me that used to guide me, that fierce, loyal presence—was gone. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on her until now, and in this moment, surrounded by firelight and gods, I felt more alone than I ever had before.

"What happens if you leave this place?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the crushing loneliness.

"Start my own pack," Fenrir said simply, draining his bowl. "Find a mate. Have a few pups."

I leaned back, staring at him, unsure if I was supposed to be impressed or horrified. “And that’s it?”

He tossed the bowl behind him without a second thought, watching it vanish into thin air. “What’s wrong with that?”

I stared at the space where it had disappeared, then back at him. “It’s… really nice.”

“Fenrir is honored by your approval,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

I tightened my jaw, trying not to snap. Did he really have to act like such a jerk?

He stepped closer, his imposing form filling my space. The air felt heavier as he towered over me. “Your answer?”

I willed myself not to look at his chest. “How do I start?” I forced the words out.

His eyes darkened, a hint of impatience flashing through them. “Did you think it would be as simple as waving a hand and setting me free?”

“No,” I retorted, my irritation rising.

“When I send you back, you’ll need to ask around. Find someone who knows—maybe a shaman or dig through one of those ‘electric books’ you call tablets.”

“A computer?” I questioned, still struggling to wrap my mind around everything.

“When you set me free, I will return your wolf to you.”

I lifted the bowl to my lips, letting the warmth of the liquid fill my senses. It wasn’t just nourishment; it was something else, something ancient. It soothed the gnawing hunger inside me, and for a moment, it felt like power was seeping through me, mending the gaps where my desperation had been.

“What is this?” I asked, looking into his eyes.

“My magic stew,” he said simply. “Now, do we have a deal?”

I didn’t have to think. “Yes,” I said softly, my voice steady, though my heart raced in my chest.

He lowered himself beside me, his gaze searing into mine, as if testing me, reading my every thought. The fire danced behind him, casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones and flickering in his wild, messy hair.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. In that moment, everything about him screamed of power and divinity, of something far older than I could ever comprehend.

“Do we have a deal?” His voice, deep and commanding, settled into my mind, leaving no room for doubt.

The world seemed to fall away, leaving only us, his eyes locked with mine, the weight of eternity pressing in on me. My heart fluttered, then stilled, overcome by his presence. My voice barely escaped me, barely a whisper.

“Yes,” I breathed, my answer floating between us like a fragile thread. “I will find a way to set you free, and in return… you’ll give me back my wolf.”

He leaned in, closer, until I could feel the heat radiating off him, the earthiness of his scent invading my senses. My breath hitched, and for a split second, I wondered if I had said enough, if he’d be satisfied.

But Fenrir wasn’t done.

“We seal the deal now,” he said, voice low, intimate.

I barely managed to ask, “How?”

And then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant almost, like he was testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, and the warmth of his touch spread through me like wildfire. His fingers wrapped around the back of my head, pulling me closer, anchoring me to him.

The world blurred, the intensity of his kiss spinning my thoughts into chaos. Every part of me felt alive, electric, as though my soul had been touched by something infinite. His lips were desperate, like he hadn’t kissed in centuries, like he was starving and I was his only sustenance.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I kissed him back with a hunger I didn’t know I had, losing myself in him. I pressed my body closer, every nerve in me screaming for more.

The kiss was a storm. His growl, the press of his chest against mine—it all spun around me like a wild, intoxicating dance. My back arched, and I responded without thinking, caught in the flood of sensations.

It felt like the universe was shifting. Like everything in me was breaking apart and being remade with every touch, every caress of his lips. It was overwhelming, overwhelming in the way nothing had ever been before.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. His lips lifted, leaving a cold space where warmth had once been. The room seemed to dim, and I felt something heavy in my chest, a hollow ache.

I'm was alone again.

I opened my eyes, blinking into the dark, disoriented. The earth beneath me was cool, like I was buried in it. I gasped, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Fenrir had returned me to my body, but now, I was… buried. Underground.

I was alive. But I was alone.