Humiliation seared through her.
“They’re a part of you, and there’s nothing about you that I don’t like, but I won’t add to them.”
Kirby swallowed past the lump in her throat.
“Tonight, if you scream, it’ll only be in pleasure.” He trailed his thumb along her cheek. “Are you good?”
She wanted to be. She needed to be. This was part of the mission. Why couldn’t she nod?
He cupped her face between both palms. “If you go, I’m going with you this time. And I don’t plan on leaving this planet for at least a few more centuries.”
His sincerity soothed and warmed her. It didn’t matter that he’d never been able to save her before. The promise rang true and quieted her inner demons. Gwydion wanted her for her. There were no demands or judgments here.
“I’m good.” She meant it.
“Remember your safeword,” he whispered.
Defiance. It made her smile.
If anyone around them was bothered by the delay or the whispered conversation between her and Gwydion, it didn’t show in their expressions. Some had turned to other stages, but she still had a captive audience.
With the shadows chased from her mind, lust was free to race in again.
Gwydion glided his hand down her neck, to stroke her breasts through the thin lace of her bra. His movements were deliberate and teasing. Light enough to tantalize. He caressed her nipples. Her neck. Her ass. The inside of her thighs. He stroked each tender patch of skin, until she was swaying against her restraints and her body hummed for more.
When he kissed a path down her breastbone, falling to his knees as he went, she whimpered. Desire licked at the edge of her senses, and climax hovered just out of reach.
He pressed his fingers into the crotch of her panties, and she bucked against his hand, wanting to feel more. The scrape of his teeth over lace made her groan in anticipation. He shoved her panties aside and buried his face in her pussy. Each lick and suck and groan amplified her desire, cranking her anticipation another notch higher.
The relentless attention made her head swim and chased away everything but the now. Ecstasy raced over her skin, and orgasm sped up quickly. She screamed when she came, grinding into his face even after his touch was too much.
Gwydion stood and kissed her hungrily, sharing her taste and devouring her gasps. “Gods, I love the way you taste. The sounds you make,” he murmured against her lips.
She was pretty fond of them too.
He moved behind her. The sound of his zipper was louder and more distinct than any other in the room. He molded himself to her back, his cock digging into her ass cheek.
“I’m so glad you told me yes to tonight.” His low voice in her ear was rapidly becoming one of her favorite sounds. He reached between her legs from behind and glided his fingers along her slit. “You’re the most stunning and deadliest creature here, and no one sees past your beauty. That’s a shame.” He dipped near her opening, teasing, but didn’t enter.
“Subtlety is part of my job.” Her reply was breathy.
He pulled back enough to trace the same path his fingers had drawn with the head of his cock. “Not tonight. You should show these pretentious assholes who you are.”
“A TOM reject?” That didn’t hurt the way it had in the past.
“The last fucking Valkyrie,” he growled, as he unhooked her restraints from the bar above her head. “Show them how beautiful you are. Spread your wings. Be you.”
It was impossible to deny him. The desire to obey was overwhelming. She felt the ground drop away, and they lifted into the air. Light and glitter swirled around them—Gwydion’s doing. How much of the show was illusion? It didn’t matter. Every eye in the room was on them. She felt it. She wanted to bathe and revel in it.
He slid inside her, and she forgot anyone but them, floating a few feet above the ground as he thrust in and out. “Finger yourself.” His command was tangible.
She dipped her hand between her legs, to stroke her clit.
He gripped her hips, and pounded harder with each thrust. The world feel away, and pleasure soared in her chest. She clenched around him as she came again. He spilled inside her, and for that brief moment, they were one.
As he slowed, they descended, until her feet touched the dais. Slowly, the world swam back into view, but she only cared about Gwydion—the way he felt when he slipped out of her, his gentle touch as he adjusted her panties, the caress of his lips along her shoulder blades when her wings faded from sight.
Kirby felt multiple sets of eyes on them as they stepped from the stage. Whispers flitted toward her. Of admiration. Who was she? Could she really be...? No. There were no more Valkyries.
She heard it all, and it heightened the lingering euphoria.
“That’s one way to grab the Hooded Spirits’ attention.” Starkad’s voice was dry and flat in her ear.
Fuck him, for trying to kill her buzz, but she needed the reminder. For a few minutes, there hadn’t been any prophecies or past lives or gods hunting here. There was only pleasure.
And that was a dangerous way to exist.
She and Gwydion made their way back toward the edge of the room. A flash of something familiar caught her attention. Her mood soured before her brain registered what she was seeing.
One of the waitresses had a body Kirby would recognize anywhere, and the blue eyes that stared back at her, like those of a deer stuck in the headlights, were the same that haunted so many of Kirby’s dreams.
What the fuck was Brit doing here?
Chapter Thirteen
Brit was an idiot, to think she’d be done with this covert shit when she walked away from TOM. And here she was, pretending to be wait staff at an orgy for the gods that was supposedly hosted by some of the oldest among them.
She’d pulled a dozen strings, several to the point of severing, to get in the door tonight. Her apron and lingerie didn't hide anything from the guests. At least here, no one was allowed to touch her without asking first. That was a nice change.
It would all be worth it, though. Hel was supposed to be here, and Brit knew how to destroy her. Fire. Brit had also spent half the money Starkad gave her on the purchase of a weapon. The pins that held her hair back would become flaming daggers—small, but enough to drive through a god’s heart.
And the mask Brit wore did more than cover half her face. It changed the appearance of the bone structure underneath, so she looked like someone else. She just had to hope the disguise held up until she found Hel and executed her.
The goddess took everything from her and would suffer the consequences.
The distinct murmur that swept through the crowd was a sharp contrast to the whispers and moans from seconds earlier. Brit’s skin prickled. She followed the turning heads to the center of the main room.
Longing and jealousy joined the tension churning inside, bubbling until they threatened to make her ill. The white mask didn’t do anything to hide who Kirby was. She carried herself, knowing the room was watching, and she radiated an invisible strength that was intoxicating even from several meters away.
It figured she’d not only be here, but also as a guest. A twinge of bitterness mingled with the cauldron in Brit’s gut.
And Kirby was on Gwydion’s arm. Trickster doctor-god, who didn’t like to see people in pain? Bullshit. Gods reveled in suffering. Didn’t matter who they were.
Where was Starkad? There was no way Brit read his relationship with Kirby wrong.
Brit wasn’t missing anything about the sparks that flew between Kirby and Gwydion on that dais—Kirby writhing in ecstasy, with Gwydion practically worshiping her.
Desire thrummed between Brit’s thighs, begging for attention.
Would anyone see her or care, if she vanished into a dark corner and relieved the desire that pulsed under her skin? No one was watching her. They were all fixated on the stunning couple who’d just left the stage.
Brit backed away from the crowds.
From prying eyes and hands that might want to help. She needed to enjoy this moment herself. No one was here, tucked behind the pillars.
“So much for not seeing me again.” Kirby’s flat tone cut through Brit’s thoughts.
Brit was sick of being phony, especially around Kirby, so all she managed was a tired smile. “Hey.”
“Uh huh.” Kirby regarded her coolly.
Gwydion’s arm was glued around Kirby’s waist, and that dagger he carried wasn’t a sex toy, or his. Kirby could inflict eons of pain with her mind and make the experience linger—Brit had experienced it firsthand. What the fuck did she need with a dagger?
“I hope you enjoyed the show.” Gwydion was easier to read. Distrust and caution spilled from him.
Kirby glanced at him, and the hard lines around her eyes softened. “Do you think Aeval—”
“No.” Gwydion snapped off denial. “She’s a lot of things, but selling people out after a promise is the kind of karma that even bites a fairy in the ass. And she liked you.”
“Excuse me—what?” Brit didn’t want to get involved in another conversation like the last time she saw Kirby, where most of what was said went over her head and no one cared to fill in the blanks for her. She’d walk away now—this wasn’t why she was here—but Kirby and Gwydion had to be at the party for the same reason she was. So why couldn’t she unstick her feet from the floor?
Kirby met her gaze again. “Is this how you define going your own way? If you wanted to stalk me, there are easier places to start.”
“Stalk you?” Brit had a hard time summoning indignation. She’d considered following Kirby, but the only way to move on was to put the entire past behind her. By pretending Kirby wasn’t still alive. By killing Hel. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. I’m certainly not interested in watching you fuck someone else.” Or she hadn’t been, until she saw it. There was definitely more lust than jealousy at the fresh memory.
“Uh huh.” Kirby stared at her.
Brit knew better than to talk to fill silence. That was how secrets were spilled. The longer Kirby watched her, the higher the heat cranked under Brit’s skin. Why did things have to be like this? Why had she fucked up so many—
Kirby gasped and clawed at her throat, before flying back to collide with the wall behind her. She kicked the empty air, her feet several centimeters above the ground, and fear crept onto her face.
“She’s here for me, Valkyrie. As are you.” Hel’s voice sent ice spilling over Brit.
She reached for the magical weapons pinning her hair in place.
Then every muscle in her body was locked in place.
KIRBY REFUSED TO PANIC. She’d been in dangerous situations before. No others where a goddess of death had her pinned to a wall and was crushing her throat and chest, but still... Clawing at the empty air wasn’t helping any, so she forced herself to relax. To see if she could grasp any breath at all. If she couldn’t, would she die?
Her earpiece sizzled and popped, burning skin, but she didn’t have the voice to yelp in pain.
She wanted to sob and cry and give up. She wanted Starkad here, not hissing in her ear, asking what was happening. For once in her life, she wanted to be the helpless maiden someone else rescued.
No you don’t. The mental retort surged forward on defiance.
No, she didn’t. Gwydion and Brit weren’t moving either. It was unlikely Starkad would be any more helpful here, and Kirby knew what she was doing. She was the best. If nothing else, she refused to die on anyone’s terms but her own. Especially not Hel’s.
“I was pleased to hear you were still alive.” Hel stalked forward. Even with Kirby’s feet dangling, Hel was taller. “But oh, how far you’ve fallen from what we tried to make you.”
Kirby wanted to retort, or at least spit in Hel’s face. She still couldn’t draw a breath, though. There had to be a way out of this. She had power. She could break this invisible prison. Couldn’t she?
“You were supposed to be a killer. The highest caliber assassin. You’re the last Valkyrie.” Disdain filled Hel’s voice, and her hot breath fell across Kirby’s face.
At least she didn’t have halitosis. Kirby almost giggled at the out-of-place thought. It was easier than acknowledging the blackness that licked at the edges of her vision and the fear that clawed inside.
Hel shook her head. “You only had to learn a little humiliation. Take your punishment like a good soldier. But you weren’t even strong enough to put up with a little feedback. And your life since... You’re a whore to those gods no one wants to associate with.”
She’s right, you know.
Rage surged past hate. Kirby strained against the restraints, struggling despite the fact that her muscles weren’t responding. She pushed until her joints ached, and she swore she felt it all the way to the tips of her hair.
“You’re weak. You’re useless.”
Gwydion growled, a low chilling sound, as soothing as it was terrifying.
“Shut it.” Hel pointed a finger in his direction but didn’t turn from Kirby. “You know it’s true. You’re not cut out for this. It’s why you tried to end things yourself.”
Kirby felt a crack, and the grip on her throat loosened. She tried to be subtle about drawing in a deep breath. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, to tear me down. My own brain tells me worse shit on a daily basis.”
“Hush.” Hel’s grip was back, tighter than ever. “I’m not done with you. He used to do this to you, didn’t he? Back you into a corner? Force you to comply?”
Bile rose in Kirby’s throat, carried on doubt and revulsion. Was Hel talking about Mark? Did they know all along?
“You could have learned something from that. At the very least, killed that fucking asshole. But you had to be the martyr.” Hel’s tone was mocking and disgusted. “Perhaps you liked his hands everywhere.”
She was just trying to keep him from subjecting anyone else to the same. The protest wouldn’t be forced past Kirby’s lips. Why wasn’t anyone coming for them? Why hadn’t this scene drawn any attention?
Hel clucked. “He certainly wasn’t worth trying to kill yourself over. The accusations would have faded. You would have gone back to being in good standing. Or maybe you took the coward’s way out because you knew you were never as good as your peers insisted you were.”
“Enough.” Gwydion shouted. He was loose. Light licked around his skin, brighter than the crystal overhead. The hardwood floor beneath Hel’s feet warped and twisted into branches that climbed up her legs and bound her in place.
Gwydion stalked toward her, an anger Kirby had never seen before flashing on his face. “If I have to rip every limb from your body, I’ll find a way to destroy you.” His low, threatening growl was back.
Kirby nudged her restraints again and felt fissures roll over the layer binding her. The invisible hold shattered, and she dropped to her feet. She rushed toward the chaos to grab the dagger from the inside of Gwydion’s arm. Pressed the blade to Hel’s throat, applying enough pressure to slice through the goddess’s windpipe.
Kirby couldn’t break the skin, no matter how hard she leaned her weight into the blade. Hel smirked. The branches binding her legs crackled with ice and shattered, the shrapnel biting into Kirby’s flesh.
“Stop.” The command reverberated in three overlapping tones, rolling through the ground, and over and through Kirby. It was the most enticing terror she’d ever tasted. She wanted to cower from it, and at the same time wrap herself in its ecstasy.
Three figures in hoods appeared at the edge of the room. “You will not violate our sanctuary this way.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gwydion was fury and destruction, as they stared down the Hooded Spirits. He didn’t care which bridges he burned. He hadn’t felt this need to obliterate for a cause in centuries.
If this was a hint of what Kirby had faced with TOM, he was no longer so forgiving with Starkad. And Hel... He hadn’t summoned the trees in a l
ong time, but if he couldn’t kill her, he could plant her in a forest, to suffer for a few decades.
“Out. All of you.” One of the Hooded Spirits waved a hand, and Hel vanished, then Brit.
“Wait.” Kirby’s clear, strong voice pushed aside some of the haze of Gwydion’s anger, letting him focus the rest.
The hooded figures turned toward her. “Yes?”
“What Hel just did? That wasn’t consensual. She came in here and assaulted us without permission. We were defending ourselves.” Kirby looked more fierce than he’d ever seen her, even in nearly no clothing.
“Ah. The she started it argument.” When the three spoke, their voices were half a beat out of sync, filling the air with a haunting echo. “Yet you came here looking for information about how to destroy her.”
Kirby opened her mouth, but the Hooded Spirits spoke over her. “And she tortured you as a child in this life—a life which you only live because, in your first, you stole a soul from death. You’re not faulted for defending yourself, but on the rest, we won’t offer judgement or opinion.”
“Give us some piece of information. You owe me that, after the sacrifices I made on your behalf.” Gwydion struggled to shove down enough of his rage to keep it from his voice.
“And this is how your wish to waste that debt?” The echo of voices grew more discordant.
Gwydion nodded. “It’s not a waste. Give us this and consider the ledger clear.”
The Hooded Spirits approached, and stopped less than a meter away. All three lowered their hoods.
Kirby gasped. Gwydion didn’t blame her. He knew what to expect, and the sight still caught him off guard. One was distinctly masculine, with a square jaw and hard eyes. His pale hair was a sharp contrast to his dark skin, and he was aggressively handsome. The second was androgynous. Gorgeous features that didn’t lean toward either gender. And the third was a woman more stunning than any other. She looked a lot like Kirby. Not that Kirby would see the same face he did. Each individual saw the Hooded Spirits as what they considered desirable—either to be or to bed.
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