"I don't recognize a lot of this. I guess my tastes are kind of shallow."

"There's nothing shallow about you." He reached up and tugged at the collar of my coat, and I let him slide it off and toss it onto Frey's ravaged bed. Then he took his own coat off and threw it on top of mine. I turned back to the CDs.

"You want to play one of those?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Just looking."

We stood like that for a long time, close enough for me to feel his breath on the top of my head, too long for him to believe that I hadn't seen every CD in the stack.

"Jenna?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

I dropped my gaze to the carpet, contemplating what to say. I assumed he was used to being alone in his bedroom with girls. They had probably all worshipped him and were grateful to be there. But I didn't want to be one of them. I wasn't one of them. And I felt a surge of anger that he didn't know that.

"Hasn't anyone ever said *no' to you?" I asked, my voice a little too hard.

"What?" He put a hand on my shoulder and spun me to face him.

I crossed my arms. "Has any girl ever said *no' to you?"

He stared for a moment. "What is this about?"

"I justaI don't know what you want."

"What I want?"

"What you expect."

"I don't a""

"I mean, like now, we're here and I don't a" "

"I don't expect anything. Jenna, I just a""

"I just don't want you to think a""

"Think what?"

"That I'm like them. That I'm a""

"Like who? That you're a""

"Like her."

"Who?"

"Brianna."

He stared.

I huffed. "I don't want you to think that I'm like her."

"How could I possibly think that? You have nothing in common."

"You."

"What?"

"We have you in common."

"What?" He scrubbed at his hair.

"You slept with her, didn't you?"

He froze with his hand on top of his head. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and exhaled. "Did she tell you that today?"

"I was hoping she was lying."

His jaw clenched. "Sweet girl."

"You must have thought so at some point."

"Don't do that." He opened his eyes. "It wasn't like that. It didn't mean anything."

"Did any of them?" I said to the carpet. "How many Briannas have there been?"

He didn't answer.

"Well?" I said.

"Please don't ask me that."

"That many?"

"It doesn't matter. I wasn't the same person then."

"You're different now than you were a few weeks ago?"

"Yes."

I lifted my arms and dropped them, looked up at him.

"I've been different since the day I met you, Jenna," he said. "That's not my life anymore. So it doesn't matter how many Briannas there were. What matters is that there's only one you. I don't want to lose you."

The idea of this somehow made everything else seem insignificant, which was exactly the kind of pitfall my mother was so determined that I avoid. Stepping around him, I went to the foot of his bed and dropped down on the mattress, let my hands fall into my lap. He followed and sat beside me, careful to leave a space between us.

"I don't expect anything of you," he said quietly.

I looked down at my hands, feeling stupid in the wake of my pettiness and insecurity.

"This is exactly what she wanted," I said.

"Yep." He reached over and wove his fingers into mine. When I looked up at him, he smirked. "Please don't let her ruin this."

At first I didn't understand his expression, and then I realized he was using my own words. It was what I had said about Tyler at Ringsaker. I laughed and pushed him backward. He pulled me down with him, cinched his arms around me and looked into my eyes.

"You know what?" He said.

"What?"

"I'd trade every single day I've lived for just one day with you."

"Every day you've lived on the earth?" I asked, baiting him.

"Every day." He said. "Ever."

Chapter 19.

I heard the rumbling in my sleep before I felt it, but even then, the warmth of Bren's body next to mine, the safety of his arms around me, the sound of his heartbeat as I lie against his chest kept me firmly tethered to my dream world. He must have ignored it too, because only after the stack of CDs against the wall crashed to the floor did we push ourselves up and gaze around, the world shuddering beneath us, and realize we were looking at an earthquake.

The door swung open and Frey stood on the threshold, staring at Bren with wide eyes.

"Not cool." He said.

"Is it natural?" Bren yelled over the clatter.

"Doubt it."

"Come on." Bren grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed, and the three of us ran through the apartment and out the door. Outside, Bren and Frey stopped for a moment to look around, but there was no one in sight, so we ran over the bridge and past the lodge along the evergreens, Bren with a steady hold on my arm to keep me from falling. We stopped at the base of the deck, where the last few people were still running for cover as the ground shook on.

It was only a moment before three yellow jackets appeared from the right, getting brighter much too fast, even from my vibrating perspective. Then Frieda, Dag, and Val surrounded us, peering off in every direction as if the source of the quake could be spotted.

"Are you alright?" Frieda reached behind her and gave my hand a brief squeeze as she scanned the top of the bunny hill.

"Fine," I said. "My mothera"

"She's fine." But the voice was not Frieda's. I looked behind me to face Skye, her gaze brewing with blue-violet thunderheads. "She's underneath a conference table with Mr. Neil and some others."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded once and moved behind Frey, turning her back to him so that she faced out toward Ringsaker.

"Let's go up," Frey said, motioning toward Skye's watch. "Find out what the hell's going on."

"It may not be safe now," Val said.

"If it isn't, then it's not safe anywhere." Frey's impatient voice carried over the noise. "Let's go."

"We've just come from there, nothing has changed," Dag said.

"Things have escalated." Frey's eyes were wild. Dag lifted a hand to his shoulder, but he shook it off. "Perhaps now Sif will be more forthcominga"

"Forthcoming?" Bren spun on him, his face hard as stone, his fingers pressing into my arm. "Are you saying she lied to us?"

"Stop it," Frieda yelled. "This is not the time." But they were fuming, gazes locked. I put my hand on Bren's shoulder, but before I could speak, my eye caught motion on the abandoned mountain above us. Atop a tall, rocky cliff between two black diamond trails, a plume of snow was sweeping through a stand of evergreens, rolling toward us at avalanche speed. As the churning cloud hit the edge of the bluff, it ran over in a rushing fall and crashed against the ground below to kick up in a white fog.

Out from behind a tall, dark pine slid a figure dressed in metallic brown, a matching motorcycle helmet obscuring his face. He skirted the last two trees in a perfect Z, his poles sweeping the air like divining rods, and headed toward the edifice. My breath caught in my throat. I watched, unable to make a noise or do anything but stare as he stooped, braced one quick hand on the ledge and flipped in the air, his body still, his skis crossed as he neatly tumbled over himself to straighten again and ride the fall to its misty bottom. He disappeared for a few seconds before emerging.

"God," I said. It was no more than a whisper, but everybody turned to follow my gaze. He was gliding by us now, his skis hissing on the snow, his jacket unzipped a few inches to reveal a triangle of smooth chest. He flipped his visor and, turning backward on his skis to maintain contact, set his dark eyes on each one of us. He regarded me last and held my gaze for a long time, receding fast toward the guest quarters beyond the lodge. As I watched, he raised a pole and pointed it at me, arm outstretched, head lowered to glare out from shadowy depths of lash. Finally, he dropped his arm to his side, threw a glance at Bren, pivoted, and disappeared behind the first building.

The earth settled.

When I looked to Bren in the new quiet, he was still staring, jaw clenched and violence in his eyes.

"Loki." He said.

Chapter 20.

"Son of a bitch." Frey said, breaking out from the center of our loose circle to stare at the fresh ski tracks in the snow.

"Who was that?" I rubbed at my arms. I'd left my coat back at the apartment and hadn't noticed the cold until now. Val wrenched his jacket off and handed it to me. I pulled it on, sinking into its oversized warmth.

"Thanks," I said, turning back to Bren. "I don't understand what's going on."

They were all silent, but Bren's expression was brooding, hateful. I took a step back, taking in his tense shoulders, his clenched fists, his shallow, rapid breath.

"Bren?" I tried to make my voice soft, unsure if I wanted to be heard. After a moment, he turned and regarded me with an empty stare. My blood went cold. I shivered as the storm finally cleared from his face. He stepped toward me. I flinched without meaning to and he hesitated for an instant, then pulled me against him.

"It's okay," he said. "Everything's okay."

Skye crossed her arms and turned away.

I wanted to see their expressions, to know what was happening, but the look on Bren's face had filled me with fear. I let him hold me for a few moments before I stepped back.