by Lauren Dawes
He glowered at her, and using his total focus on her face, Taer reached out until her fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger still lying on the ground. Before he could react, she drove the biting edge into the bone of his bare ankle. The howl that erupted from Darrion’s mouth was primal, setting all the fine hairs on Taer’s arms on end. He leaped off her, staggering back one step and then another.
Adrenaline surged through Taer’s bloodstream and she jumped to her feet. Darrion’s attention was on the dagger buried in his foot, the bloody tip protruding out the other side. He wrapped his hand around the hilt, dragging it clear of the bone it was embedded in. Before he could straighten, Taer snatched a handful of his hair and smashed his head against her raised knee. She took great satisfaction in hearing the unmistakeable crunch as bone met bone.
Blood erupted violently from his nose. Taer closed her eyes and mouth against the spray, her face now covered in both her blood and his.
Darrion lurched backwards before landing heavily on his back, the air wheezing from his lungs. Blood poured from his broken nose, rushing down his chin and cheeks, splattering the floor around his head.
He was blinking as if he couldn’t quite understand what was happening to him. Swaying on her feet, Taer walked over to her katana. She tried to pick it up with her damaged hand, a small cry escaping her lips as she realized her wrist was too badly broken. Using her left hand instead, she grasped the handle and brought the sword up in front of her body.
Darrion was still down, still gasping for oxygen. His blue eyes were fixated on her face as she loomed above him, and he reached up with one hand as if he could touch her, as if he could stop her. His mouth opened and closed sloppily. Was he trying to mock her … or beseech her?
Without saying a word, Taer drove the length of her katana through his solar plexus, pinning him to the ground. As she stood above him, her hand still on the handle, her breathing ragged, Taer found she was unable to enjoy the way Darrion’s eyes widened in surprise and pain. She had thought she would get some sort of satisfaction from gaining the upper hand over her brother’s killer, but somehow she just felt hollow inside.
Blood foamed from the corners of his mouth, joining the fresh rivers flowing from both nostrils. The smallest sound of protest broke past his throat, but that was all she heard. Darrion was unable to hurt her any more than he already had.
Using the last of her energy, and with one swift movement, Taer withdrew the sword from his body and drove the tip straight through his eye. Darrion’s whole body went rigid for a moment, his neurons still firing until the very end, before slumping against the floor completely. The last breath he would ever breathe hissed from his broken body, signaling the end.
She pitched to one side when a sudden, intense pressure began building in her skull. It was as if her whole body was coming apart at the seams, like her bones were suddenly molten and ready to burst from beneath her muscle and skin. The intense pain tore a scream from her throat just as her eyelids were forced opened in the conscious world.
With her chest heaving up and down and sweat breaking out over her entire body, she barely registered the hands squeezing her shoulders or the dark eyes peering into her face.
All she could feel was a creeping … emptiness inside her. Darrion was dead, but somehow it didn’t feel real. She could feel the fresh blood on her face, could smell the tang of it, but even those tangible signs weren’t enough for her.
Someone shook her shoulders and she blinked slowly.
“—Taer!”
Her world was tilting on its axis, and she felt precariously close to the edge. Taer fought against the feeling, focusing on what she now recognized as Korvain’s voice. This was familiar. This she knew.
“Korvain,” she croaked, still fighting the rolls of nausea.
His gaze dropped to her body, to the blood that was caked all over her skin.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he demanded. “You’re covered in blood.”
“Darrion,” she said, her dry throat stopping her from saying any more.
“Darrion did this to you?” he snarled. “I’m going to end that mother-fucker myself.”
Taer shook her head, the slight movement hurting her whole body. “Darrion’s … dead,” she whispered, right before a waterfall of blissful, pain-free darkness crashed over her.
*
Taer blinked against the weak lamplight beside her bed, her right hand coming up to shield her eyes.
“Try to lie still for a little longer,” Eir said from across the room.
Taer dropped her hand and turned her head slightly to the left. The Valkyrie was sitting on her bed with her back pressed against the wall, her legs brought up to her chest. The large circles under her eyes said it all. She had been doing some serious healing, and if Taer had to guess, she’d been the one on the receiving end.
“Your wrist isn’t completely healed yet, but I took away most of the pain,” the goddess said. “As for your other injuries, they’re healed, too, although the internal injuries will still cause you a little pain and I’m afraid I can’t do much about the scarring.”
“How—” Taer rasped. She coughed, winced, and tried again. “How long have I been sleeping?”
Eir looked at the clock beside her bed. “Six hours maybe—not too long.”
Taer let the reality of what she’d done sink in. Darrion was dead. She had avenged her brother, and released every single Mare still bound to him through the blood contract.
“Is she awake?” Korvain asked quietly from the doorway.
“Yes. Come in,” Eir said, sliding off the bed and excusing herself from the room. Taer watched Korvain take up Eir’s former position on the opposite side of the room, his expression serious.
“Tell me everything.”
Taer did exactly that, recalling every detail of their fight. By the time she was finished, the serious expression on his face had been replaced by a look of pride.
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” she said. “He was able to hurt me even though I was the one who had infiltrated his dream. How was that possible?”
Korvain shook his head. “Darrion had many secrets, Taer. I don’t think anybody truly knew the extent of his abilities or skills.”
Taer reflected on his words for a moment. “Why did I feel like my body was being torn in different directions when he died?”
“I suspect it’s because you were in his dream, and once he was killed, you were violently withdrawn from his head.” Korvain shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ve never killed someone in their dreams before. I wasn’t sure it was even possible, in fact.”
She frowned. “Let me get this straight. You wanted me to kill Darrion in his dreams even though you weren’t sure it could be done?” Korvain nodded. “That’s fucked up,” she added bitterly.
The bastard had the nerve to smile at her. “I’ve never seen someone with such an instant talent for dream walking, Taer. Even though it killed me to do it, even though it went against every instinct I had to protect you, I could see no other way. You needed to be the one to kill him. It was risky, but I had to plant the idea in your head to see whether you would try.” His smile grew until she could see the tips of his fangs. “And it was worth the gamble, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled, still unable to believe he would do that. Looking down, she could see the dried blood still coating her body. “I need to take a shower.”
Korvain got up from the bed. He helped her to stand and led her into the bathroom down the hall, which took a lot longer than normal since her whole body ached. When the door was firmly shut behind her, Taer stripped out of her bloody and torn clothes, dropping them to the tiled floor. Shuffling to the vanity, she stared at her reflection in the mirror above it.
The blood on her face had been cleaned off, but there were still smears here and there. Her eyes drifted down to the mottled skin surrounding the larger, deeper wound on her shoul
der. Darrion had inflicted two wounds on her now—two wounds too deep and too savage to heal properly. She would carry them for the rest of her life, and she swore then and there that she would wear them with pride.
Because she had defeated the one who had taken so much pleasure in her pain.
She had taken his pleasure and made it her own.
Darrion was dead.
And Adrian had been avenged.
Epilogue
Henry Craine brushed some lint from the lapel of his white shirt and placed his gun on the desk blotter. The sharpness of gunpowder was still an acrid sting in his nostrils, but as he looked down on the body of his former employee, he felt …
Nothing.
Galen had been a pawn.
He had been a sacrificial lamb, and his work had great value to Craine.
Glancing at the gold face of his watch, Craine picked up his suit jacket and shrugged into the expensive black fabric. The garment fit him like a glove, and he took delight in knowing it had been paid for with blood money.
Stepping over the corpse on his office floor, Craine opened the door and stepped into the large foyer. One of his bodyguards was standing beside the elevators, and when he turned his head he found another staring impassively in front of him.
“Leaving for the evening, Boss?” the first guard asked, his hands still clasped together in front of him.
“Yes,” Craine replied.
The man turned and jabbed at the button beside him, the elevator doors opening swiftly with a small chime. The bland music piped into the car leaked out into the foyer as Craine stepped inside the car. He kept his eyes on the bodyguard stationed across from the elevators, keeping his expression tight and in control. Once the door had closed, though, Craine turned to look at one of the mirrored walls.
Slowly, the image in the reflection started to melt away. The black eyes gave way to pale green, the dark hair to blond. With one final shudder, Loki threw off the last of his disguise and gave himself a Cheshire-cat grin.
Everything was coming together as he’d wanted it to. Galen had played his part, and now Loki would take over. He had wanted a way into Bryn’s inner sanctum, and from what Galen had told him, that was exactly what he had. They would recognize Galen at the club now, which meant that Loki could simply assume his identity and walk right in there.
He was the ultimate Trojan Horse.
But he knew Bryn’s Mare had to be removed from the scene if he was to succeed. So his plan now was to go to Boston to do exactly that. He would have his revenge on the All-Father by snatching away his precious first Valkyrie.
Loki hit the emergency stop button on the elevator, bringing the car to a smooth stop after a slight shudder. Looking back at his reflection in the wall mirror, Loki started to change his appearance once more. Within seconds, Galen was staring back at him. Loki’s mouth flexed, trying out his new fangs and his new body. It was a lot stronger than the human’s had been, and he could feel the energy flowing through the muscles and bones.
Punching the button to get the elevator going again, Loki rode it all the way down to the bottom, stepping out into the lobby. With a new sense of purpose, he strode from the building, fading directly to Boston and setting his plan for revenge into motion.
Glossary of terms and proper nouns
Aesir (n)—The sky gods. It is their belief they are superior to all other races in the Nine Worlds.
affinity (n)—The weapon that a Shadow Walker uses as their preferred weapon. It is said that the weapon will choose the Mare while they are training for the Final Test.
Agarwaen (adj)—After a Shadow Walker has completed their training and survived the Final Test, this is the title they are awarded; literally translated as bloodstained.
Andhrímnir (n)— The chef of the Aesir. Andhrímnir is responsible for the cooking of the beast Sæhrímnir in Valhalla every day.
Asgard (n)—The former home of the Aesir.
Fade (v)—To dematerialize and rematerialize in another location with a thought.
Fall, the (n)—The time when the Norse gods were no longer worshiped and therefore lost their power. The Fall was the tipping point that destroyed the Nine Worlds, breaking down the highly organized and coveted hierarchy built by the Aesir. Factions split and different species within the Nine Worlds were strewn across the human world. Some prospered while some merely survived. The gods favored the cities created by humans while others, like the dwarves, preferred the furthest outposts of human civilization.
Final Test, the (n)—At the end of a Mare’s training to become a Walker, a gladiator-style battle takes place where the last man (or woman) standing is awarded the title agarwaen.
Frigg—Odin’s wife; the goddess of fertility, love and marriage.
Hel—The goddess of the underworld.
Jotunn (n)—A giant.
Mare (n)—A dark elf. Pure-blooded Mares are widely believed to be extinct, after a campaign by Odin over a thousand years ago to eradicate their species. To escape persecution, dark elves bred with light elves, creating half-breed children whose features helped them to pass as light elves. Mares are usually no shorter than six feet tall. Their appearance is humanoid; however, they have fangs that are not for the taking of blood for sustenance; rather they are used for sexual gratification.
Morier (n)—A derogatory term for a Shadow Walker; literally translated as dark one.
Odin—The father of all gods and men. Sometimes referred to as the All-Father.
Quinary (n)—A group of five Mares training to become blooded Shadow Walkers. At the conclusion of the Final Test, one of the five will become agarwaen. They will be the victor of their quinary for that year.
Sæhrímnir (n)—A magical boar-like beast that is killed every day, and resurrected every night, to feed the fallen warriors in the halls of Valhalla.
Shadow Walker (n)—Shadow Walker is the ancient name for any Mare trained to be an assassin, because of their ability to “wrap” shadows around them to conceal themselves. However, due to extensive interbreeding with the light elves, many dark elves have lost the ability to shadow walk, but the name remains the same. Shadow Walkers are feared for their ability to enter a person’s dreams and manipulate them. They are commonly referred to as nightmares.
Sleipnir—An eight-legged horse owned by Odin.
Svartalfheim (n)—The original world of the dark elves, located between the land of the light elves and the dwarves. The majority of the dark elves who lived in Svartalfheim before the Fall were slaughtered there by Odin and his Valkyries.
Valhalla (n)—An enormous hall within Asgard that housed fallen battle heroes.
Valkyrie (n)—A beautiful warrior female created by Odin to take the bodies of men slain in battle to Valhalla. They are immortal only while their swan feather cloak is in their possession. If this cloak is stolen, the thief is entitled to seven years of service from the Valkyrie. If the feathers are plucked from the cloak, the Valkyrie can be killed by a mortal wound.
Vanaheim (n)—The land of the Vanir, which was situated below Asgard, constantly reminding the elemental gods of their place below the Aesir.
Vanir (n)—The Vanir are the old gods who ruled before the Aesir. Sworn enemies of the sky gods, they are the masters of sorcery and elemental magic. They live on Vanaheim.
Acknowledgments
I wrote this book while I was pregnant with my first child. I also went through the whole editing and re-editing process between nappy changes and midnight feeds. I sacrificed spending time with my baby girl to have Dark Desire ready to go out into the world, but that wouldn’t have been possible without some pretty remarkable people. I couldn’t have done it without the help of my truly amazing husband, my friend Katie or my in-laws and my mother who all traveled great distances to help out when they could.
To my husband, his wealth of military knowledge and personal experiences has helped shaped Mason into a ‘real’ marine. There aren’t too many men out there who wouldn’t bat an
eyelid answering questions about guns and war zones.
I also need to say thank you to my brother. As with the first book, he kept me on track and focused on the end result.
And to Joel and Tara, thanks for the emailing sessions and phone calls to try make Dark Desire the best that it could be. Thanks for taking a chance on me and my characters, and for being so flexible with my crazy life.
About Lauren Dawes
Born in South Africa and raised in Sydney, Lauren Dawes is an urban fantasy/paranormal romance writer and the author of the Dark Series.
In 2009, she quit her full-time job teaching English as a Second Language to finally begin writing “that book”, letting her over-active imagination pour out onto the digital pages, much to everyone’s horror. The catchphrase “I didn’t know you had such a dark imagination” only fueled her to write more, where her love for Norse mythology and gods finally got the spotlight.
She currently lives with her husband and daughter in whatever city they happen to be posted to, and her cat, Oscar, who has inspired more than one character quirk or scene in her books.
To find out more, visit www.authorlaurendawes.com.
First published by Momentum in 2014
This edition published in 2014 by Momentum
Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000
Copyright © Lauren Dawes 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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