Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

“Yes, and if you try to interfere again, more heads will roll.” She kept laughing. Like she’d just made the funniest joke in the world, doubling over and crying, diamond-tears falling from her blood-shot eyes, her sword keeping her upright.

  Adala let loose a war cry, her sword swooshing down, but there was nothing to clang against. In a cloud of purple and orange smoke and sparkles, Keira was gone.

  Adala panted for breath then sped back to the dead man. His buddy had tried to put the head with the body, physically closing the corpse’s eyes. She knelt beside the man trying to hold his friend together, putting her arm around him.

  Aaron hated how jealous he felt, but he was. God, what had he done having a temper tantrum? Why hadn’t he taken the time to think? His training had helped him so the man who Adala held hadn’t died. And Mack had been training him not to use his temper as a first response. But he hadn’t applied it with Adala, not all of it, not when it mattered the most. He wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself, especially if Adala had already moved on to the berserker.

  Yeah, he needed to talk to her.

  He watched as she cried with the berserker, touching the dead man’s shoulder. Aaron felt like mourning for the loss of life too.

  Felt like mourning if he lost Adala.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE NORNS AND Madde helped Sven recover Erik’s body. They were going to take it to Hebrides, where he’d been born more than a thousand years ago, to give him a proper funeral with a boat.

  Adala cried for Erik. He’d been so sweet, the big, tall, bear-like man. The Norns cried too, which was still shocking. She had seen Skuld do so right before she’d met Aaron. But usually the Norns encouraged nights out, clubbing in Italy, dancing until everyone felt numb. Or they would strong-arm a sad dís into pedicure parties. Or binge-watch some television series. Anything to not...feel. Especially not to cry.

  It was a bit unsettling to watch the Norns cry, but Adala liked it all the same. There were changes happening to the dísir. Big changes.

  Once the Norns, Madde, and the berserkers were gone, she went out looking for Gus, feeling Aaron trailing after her. Hearing him more than anything else. That chain mail was loud.

  He’d apologized, sure. But she was still angry. Mixed with sadness for losing Erik. He’d been a good male. She’d liked him, thought him the kind of soul who would complement Madde. Plus, he’d known love. Adala had wanted to keep talking to him to find out if what she felt was close, even if she was currently pissed off at the object of her affection.

  Gus was hanging out with the goats, flicking his wings from flies, chomping down on new grass. He lifted his head when she approached, and she nuzzled against his nose then neck.

  Hugging the Pegasus, she whispered, “Some protector you are.”

  Gus nodded his head, happy to see her, but returned to the grass soon enough. Aaron stood on the other side of her horse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Damn that chain mail. He still looked like a knight from long ago. Strikingly handsome.

  She nodded and looked down at Gus’s leg and hoof.

  Aaron reached over the Pegasus, touching her hand that remained on Gus’s forelock. “Adala, what I did, accusing you of...it was so shitty.”

  She frowned and turned more toward him. “I’m mad at you.”

  “You have a right to be. I was a shit.”

  “Don’t say that. It hurts me when you say those things about yourself.”

  “But I—”

  “Just use words. It hurts too much when you call yourself a shit.”

  He swallowed and swallowed again, looking at her, searching her eyes for answers. “God, I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you feeling hurt when...I don’t have the tools, Adala. I don’t have the fucking tools. If this were someone else, I’d tell him the same thing, honey. I’d tell him to stop relying on calling himself names, to communicate. But it’s me, and I’m so scared to lose you and I’m so scared to have you.”

  He looked surprised he’d said as much. She was too. And even more hurt.

  She shook her head and glanced down Gus’s leg again, the only spot of comfort in this conversation. “I know. I get it. I’m a big terrible female. I scare you.” She scowled at him. “Why are men threatened by women who know how to protect themselves? What is that about?” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  He raced around Gus, making the Pegasus grunt when Aaron trampled the grass.

  “I’m not scared of that.” He reached for her but stopped himself, his chain mail clattering. “Jesus, never think I’m threatened by your sword skills. And, holy shit, you have some skills. You’re amazing. Your sister called you a master, and you are. I’m in awe of that. I want you to teach me how—”

  She took a step away, shaking her head, her heart collapsing on itself. He called her a master. He looked proud of her. Then what the hell?

  “But you said you’re scared to have me?”

  His face twisted, his jawline kicked, his lips hardened. Oh, but his eyes—they reddened and were instantly glossy. Erik was right. Men resort to anger so as not to cry. Oh, poor Erik.

  Poor Aaron.

  He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. “I have lived a very small life since that battle close to Marjah, because that’s all I could handle. I lived on a particle board in a tree for about a year. Well, not during the winter. It rains so god damned much. And snows a little. Wet snow. Anyway, I sold my apartment because I couldn’t live in four walls. I live in Luke’s parents’ home because it’s about the only place I can breathe. I live like a fucking teenager because I needed my life small.”

  She was very confused by what he was telling her, but she tried to listen, especially as his voice kept breaking, which broke her heart.

  “If I have you in my life, then my life wouldn’t be small.” He licked his lips and looked down at her nude ballet flats. “And...I’m not sure if I deserve anything other than a small life.” He glanced up, his eyes glistening even more. “You didn’t kill my men. I did. I went on bad intel into that village, my guts screaming that it wasn’t a good idea. But I went. Yeah, I was ordered to, but I could have...stopped it. I’m sure I could have stopped it if I had just...done more. But I didn’t. I lost all eight of my men because I fucked up, Adala.” A tear floated down his sunken cheek.

  She stopped breathing when that lone tear turned into a diamond that skittered down his chain mail.

  “It was me. All me.” He shook his head, frowning. “I didn’t get shot once. Not once. Rodriguez got shot seven times. Seven fucking times. The man was a beast, still cognizant when he’d been shot in the head. It just skimmed his skull, but...but I thought he’d make it. He was alive when I put him on the copter. And then he was gone. And I did that. I did all of that. I fucked up, baby. I fucked up and killed eight men.”

  She reached for him, holding him as close as the chain mail and sword strapped on his back would allow. Pulling away slightly, she unhooked the holster for the sword, letting it drop behind him, watching his anguished face as he cried. He held her hips, a light touch, just watching her.

  “I haven’t ever talked about it. I had to make a report afterward, but I haven’t talked about that battle since then. Not even in group.”

  “I’m honored you’d share with me.” She held him again. He had to stoop a little, but soon he had his head on her shoulder as she had hers on him. “You didn’t kill those men, Aaron. You followed orders. You’re a good soldier.”

  He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter.

  “I know you want to blame yourself. I did that too.”

  He straightened and looked down at her.

  Her own tears surfaced. “It’s been more than sixty years since I was captured. Sixty. And I still want to blame myself for getting caught. I’ve had a lot of therapy, even became a licensed therapist in that time, although I was just trying to shrink myself. Funny expression, isn’t it? Like I’m trying to make myself smaller by trying to
deal with my problems. And oh, I had so many problems. I cried all the time. Poor Madde had no idea what to do with that.”

  Aaron smiled. “She is a stoic one, isn’t she?”

  Adala laughed through her tears. “I love that she met you.”

  “It was her. She gave me your feather when I was asleep the night after...everyone died. It was her.”

  Adala laughed again. “My lovely sister is a constant source of surprise for me. Why...how did she—”

  “She said she saw the way you looked at me, and she thought I saw you. She thought that meant something, so she gave me one of your feathers she’d been saving.” He sipped in a breath. “And I did see you that day. I dreamed about you for six years, Adala. I’m so scared I’m not good enough for you.”

  “Oh, honey,” she cried, holding him tight again. “This last decade, I’ve tried so hard to act like I’m healed. And I am. To a certain extent I am. But there’s scars. Even if my body physically healed, and now I have my wings back, I have these scars that are tough and old and maybe some of them are brittle too. And I know you can sense them. The closer you get to me, the more you get closer to them. And I’m scared of that. I’m scared you’ll run from me and all my scars. I completely understand wanting to live small. I shrinked—you know, as in seeing psychologists—and shrinked myself until I was nothing but a fraction of what I could be.” She glanced up, looking at him. “I don’t mean that I doubt therapy. I don’t. But, for me, I used it as a crutch to not live fully.”

  “I get that.”

  “I don’t know what we”—she pointed at her chest then his—“will look like, how this will even work. But, Aaron, with you, for the first time in so long, I realized I didn’t want to live a fraction of my life. I wanted the whole thing. I wanted you to see my scars. I wanted you to know them. I don’t want to live small any longer.”

  He released a slow breath, their eyes locked the whole time. She hadn’t asked him a question, but she was waiting for his answer nonetheless.

  His body trembled. “I don’t either. I want you so bad. And I don’t know what that looks like either, but I want you. In my life. I want to talk to you every day. I want to watch you make embroidered flowers and listen to your music, which is so much cooler than mine.”

  She laughed, tears standing in her eyes.

  “And I want to read to you. I want to take care of you. But, baby—”

  “No buts. Please.” She couldn’t help the whine in her voice, begging.

  “You gotta teach me your mad sword skills. I felt like an ass in there and was an even bigger ass for trying, like a misogynistic jerk, to protect you instead of just letting you do your own thing.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from her. She smacked Aaron on his chain-mailed shoulder. “You scared me. I thought—”

  He cupped the nape of her neck. “I am scared. I might forever fear not being good enough to have you in my life. But”—he emphasized the word, which drove her crazy—“I’ll work on it. Fuck having a small life. I know my men wouldn’t want me to live with this guilt, this shame. They’d want...I want my life big and beautiful and that means with you. If you’ll have me?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SHE’D BEEN BITING her bottom lip when Aaron had asked if she’d have him. Slowly, she tilted her face up, a smile spreading wide.

  “Of course, Aaron. Yes, damn it. Yes!”

  His heart hammered against his chest. “Even though I have a lot to work on?”

  “Don’t we all, honey?”

  He couldn’t help smiling too, remembering their first talk, how he’d said almost the same thing when she’d called herself a freak.

  He’d had this idea, since he’d been discharged, that he’d make himself right again, that he’d figure his shit out and be like the guy he used to be—someone who didn’t feel uncomfortable in big crowds, someone who could breathe normally in all circumstances. But there was no sense comparing who he’d been to who he was now. The guy he’d been hadn’t seen all his men die in less than twenty minutes. The guy he’d been hadn’t survived the unthinkable. The guy he’d been also wasn’t as thoughtful.

  And he liked the man he’d become, despite the fact that he still had issues. Hell, he’d even come to accept those things about himself because Adala had.

  Holding onto her thin hips, he pulled her closer, loving how her face tilted up even more, ready to kiss him, ready for him. But he’d forgotten the chain mail, and when she’d thumped against him, slightly wincing as his bodysuit rattled, he had to laugh.

  “Is there a reason why the Norns put this on me when we landed in the ski lodge?”

  Adala ran her hands over it, sighing. “To utterly frustrate me?”

  “Why’s it frustrating, honey?”

  “Because I have no idea how to get you out of it.”

  Shit. Well, if that didn’t put a jackhammer in his heart, nothing would. He felt electrified, jolted from the desirous look she gave him.

  He swallowed. “You want me...out of this?”

  She nodded, still running her hands up and down his chest, then shrugged. “But I also love it. You look like a knight.”

  He smiled, especially as her eyes went glassy as she gazed at him. It was odd to have something so bulky between his skin and Adala’s touch, like an erotic filter. He felt her everywhere, her caress not enough, and yet at the same time magnifying his lust.

  He moaned. “Can I...can I kiss you, baby?” This whole experience humbled him yet made him whole. He wasn’t sure if he was on solid ground with Adala, but he would do everything he could to get back to that.

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled, probably lifting on her toes as she brushed her lips against his.

  He ached for her as she deepened the kiss. It might have only been a few hours since his blowup, but it had felt like days. Months. Years. He held her firmly, a slight nag in his mind that the chain mail might be uncomfortable for her, but he had to hold her as tight as he dared. Her tongue was in his mouth, pushy, needy, desperate. Good. He needed her as greedy for him as he was for her. He needed her to feel as raw as he was.

  After tangling their tongues for a few minutes, he broke the kiss to find her ear. “Adala, I have to tell you something.”

  “Hmm-mmm?” She shuddered when he rolled his tongue around her lobe.

  “I...I love you.”

  She pulled away, startled. Her eyes were big, wide, and so open she faintly reminded him of an owl. “You do?”

  God, it hurt that she didn’t say it back. But he’d give her time. “Yeah.” His voice croaked. “I do.” He shrugged. “Too soon for that?”

  She placed her hands over his heart. “Aaron, I love you too.” She stood on her toes once again, even with his face. “I love you so much.”

  He held her tightly once more. “Me too, baby. I wanted to tell you before, but I just—”

  “No, it’s perfect, telling me now. This is one of my favorite places.” She leaned back to glance around, pulling his sleeve, walking backward as she said, “Let’s christen it.”

  “Christen it?” He followed her, loving the mischievous sparkle in her bright eyes. “As in name it?”

  She blushed as she took him behind a thicket of bushes, close to a giant oak. “I was trying for innuendo. I’m not good at it...flirting. I never have before.”

  He caressed her pink cheek. “Honey, I think you’re so good at flirting. You’re killing me right now. I just didn’t want to take anything for granted. I hoped you were flirting, but...”

  “Will you make love to me, Aaron? Right here? Right now?”

  He kissed her, not able to help himself in the least because she seemed so impatient, which he loved. Pulling her body against his, he hoped even through the chain mail his want of her was apparent.

  She stopped, pushing on his shoulders. “Oh no.”

  “What?” His voice cracked, the strain of not kissing her too much.

  “No condoms.”

  He smil
ed and took a step back, trying to figure out how to get to his jeans. The chain mail was a long tunic thing, held with a brown leather belt. But he figured out how to get under it to his jeans, fishing out his wallet. It was fat with hope.

  Extracting out a line of condoms, he showed them to her.

  She squealed. “Oh my knight in shining armor—”

  “Shining mail.”

  “Doesn’t have the same ring.”

  “It doesn’t. Sorry.”

  “My knight in shining armor with his—what is that, six?—Trojans?”

  He softly chuckled. “I think so.”

  “We can really christen this place then.”

  “We can christen it at least six times.”

  “When did you get these?” She fingered the foil wrappers.

  He glanced down, still embarrassed he’d had such a weird tantrum. “After I calmed down, started thinking straight, started...hoping again. A man’s gotta have hope.”

  Her face fell, the smile gone. “Aaron, I don’t know how to tell you this. And I’m so sorry. I never thought of the consequences of...being with me. I’m not sure you’re wholly a man any longer. I mean, you are. But you’re not exactly—”

  “I’m immortal-ish. That’s what Madde told me. And so is Luke. I know.”

  “You know?”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know that you cry diamonds now?”

  Well, he hadn’t known that. It took a second to breathe, but when he did it was shaky at best. “That’s...different.”

  “You liked the immortal part better, didn’t you?”

  “Am I going to sprout wings too?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think so. Dísir are female.” She wagged her brows. “But should we...put it to the test?”

  Yeah, having wings might be weird, but he was more than willing to test the theory. Especially if testing meant he’d have to come, which seemed to be the way Adala had gotten her wings back. So, yes, he was more than good with that. He nodded.

  She held his face, pulling him down to her, kissing him while she smiled. He was smiling too, but soon their lips became reactive, electric, animalistic with need. They both gripped at each other, holding one another so close it was difficult to breathe, difficult to do anything except feel. Her tongue was in his mouth. Then his in hers. They traded and parried until he started a slow rhythmic thrust into her mouth, his hips rocking against her at the same time, simulating what he wanted to do to her.