by Angel Lawson
Slow down, I tell myself.
Something epic is happening in this magical tavern. I can’t blow it.
I glance down at Armin’s waist. Gods, the things I want to blow.
The day had been humiliating. The moment with Marshal confusing. But this? What I’m feeling in this room? Morgan was right. Christensen was right.
Balance.
Bonding.
Mating.
With every kiss I feel stronger. With every touch, the pain vanishes in my back and knees from the day of hard labor. With every caress the grief from losing Andi, from losing my immortality, from losing control, vanishes.
Armin kisses me once more, letting his tongue linger against my lips, before stepping away, leaving me breathless.
“Care to share what this is about?” Agis asks in a tight voice. He crosses his legs. In the firelight I see the solid bulge of his cock. He’s turned on, even if he’s still guarded.
“I have a theory,” I say, pushing my hair out of my face.
“No,” Rupert interrupts, “we have a theory.”
She explains it quickly. Convincingly. How when we fell through the portal we didn’t just take the guardians place, we adopted the core of who they are. And that includes their bond with Morgan and the power that comes with it.
“You really believe that?” Agis frowns, his drink forgotten. “Doesn’t something like a mating bond just happen? It’s not really something you can force.”
“Maybe,” she says, her voice losing confidence. “But we’re role playing here. It may take a little massaging to get the magic flowing.”
He raises an eyebrow at Armin. “Do you feel it?”
He swallows, eyes lingering on me, cheeks turning a faint pink. “What I feel with Hildi is indescribable.”
He rolls his eyes and looks at Miya.
“And what about you? Do you believe this? Would you give up your vows for this?”
Miya looks at me, eyes dark and soulful. I want to know the answer to this question, too. So badly that my hands tremble in anticipation.
“I know that after we had sex, things have been different.”
“How so?” Armin asks.
“Over centuries, I’ve mastered the ability to keep a clear mind. To focus on my spirit and the energy around me. That is how I stay focused. It’s how I kill. It’s how I survive.” He licks his lips and the faint light in the tavern makes his jaw strong and sharp. “Since we slept together, I think about Hildi. Often. Always. When I’m meditating. When I’m fighting. Especially when I sleep. That night…it changed me.”
His words stun me. He’s been so aloof, so distant. “It did?”
He swallows and nods. “At first I panicked and tried to pretend it was just the after effects of the venom. But I can’t shake it—or you.”
That night had been intense. The venom filled me with a deep, uncontrollable longing. I had to have an orgasm, to keep myself sane. Miya sacrificed his beliefs to help me, and if we’re right about the bond, that single selfless act may have opened a connection neither of us understood at that point.
“I can’t shake you either.”
“It’s the venom,” Agis interjects. “You were drugged by a powerful vampire.”
Miya’s eyes dart to his fellow warrior. “It was more than that. Do you really think I’d break my vow of celibacy for just anyone? I’ve been tempted a million times.” He looks at me. “There’s something different.”
I ease out of Armin’s grasp and walk over to Miya. I take his face in my hands, cupping his cheeks. I run my fingers over the faint stubble on his chin and bend, kissing him gently. A flood of emotions releases between us, and it takes everything in me not to climb in his lap.
Agis grunts and slams his drink on the table. The God of Death stands, casting a shadow over the room with his large frame.
“I’m done with this,” he says, striding toward the portal entry.
Casting a worried glance at the others, I follow him. I grab the back of his shirt in a futile attempt to get him to stop.
“Why is this so hard for you to believe?” I shout, just before he gets to the tapestry.
He spins, and I’m surprised at the anguished expression on his face.
“Do you really want to know?”
Something about the darkness flickering in his eyes scares me but I say, “Yes,” anyway.
“Because I don’t believe that love can save the world, Valkyrie. I didn’t believe it with the Guardians, and I don’t believe it now. It’s too easy. It’s not enough. Winning a war takes power and bloodshed and strength. It takes strategy and sacrifice. It takes everything from you, and in the end there’s nothing left. Nothing. Especially not love.”
The intensity of his words, the anger laced in his tone rattles me so badly that I do nothing as he walks though the tapestry like a ghost.
I feel like a fool, embarrassed at the simplicity of his argument.
“He’s right,” I say, not turning around. “Love has never won a war.”
A warm hand rests on my shoulder. Another on my hip. I feel a kiss press on the top of my head. I don’t need to turn around to know that Rupert, Miya, and Armin are behind me.
“Every true relationship is a battle,” Miya says quietly. “Sharing souls with another is a fight for survival that involves tearing down walls and sustaining injury. Agis knows that. Probably more than the rest of us.”
“He’s scared, Hildi,” Armin whispers.
I turn around and study the warriors closely.
“Of what?” I ask, searching their faces for an answer.
Rupert finally replies. “Of you.”
The knock comes before daylight, again.
This time I’m sent to the kitchen, where another set of Alante are hard at work, preparing breakfast for two hundred students and faculty. By dawn I’ve cracked five hundred eggs, carried pounds of bacon from the ice box, and sliced loaf after loaf of bread.
Don’t even ask about the butter.
I eye the dishwashing station hopefully, but the Alante in charge, a woman with a hairnet and red knuckles, shoves a platter of food in my direction. “Keep the food replenished, the royals don’t like to see an empty dish. Remove empty platters, dirty dishes, and any other trash.”
“Can’t I wait until everyone has left?”
She shakes her head. “Not my rules. I’m just following orders.”
Of course she is.
I push the trashcan out the door and into the busy room. Yesterday was bad enough, but I’d only been in a few specific floors of the building. The dining hall is massive and every student in the school comes through each morning. It seems extra crowded today—they probably all got the memo that the Valkyrie would be on display and showed up early.
The back of my neck prickles in warning.
Every school dining hall has its own social hierarchy. Academy of Immortals is no different. Underclassmen near the door. The herd in the middle. Popular kids in the back. The overbearing eyes of the faculty on the platform. It was intimidating enough as a quasi-student, but as servant? A cleaning lady? A marked person?
I keep my eyes away from the platform where I sense Miya and Armin watching my every move. They know better than to interfere. I’d told them what was at risk. The Alante, for one. The key is another.
Victorine won’t win.
I push the tray with fresh, steaming platters of breakfast food toward the first set of tables. It’s a group of boys, shoveling forkfuls of eggs and sausage into their mouths. The dishes are half empty, and I replenish them one after the other. A group of students passes me by and I hear a familiar, cackling laughter. Marielle.
“So embarrassing,” she says, pushing her hair over her shoulder. An arm is looped around her waist. Slim fingers, a distractingly attractive forearm.
Marshal tugs her along. “What did we talk about yesterday? No fucking with the help. She’ll spit in your food.”
“I’ll gouge her eyes out
,” Marielle replies. I try to remember when we were friends. Or friendly. It seems like a long time ago.
Marshal directs her to a table across the room. I don’t miss his glance over her shoulder or the smug grin on his mouth.
I look up at the platform, catching the eyes of Armin, Rupert, and Miya. I think about the tavern. The peace I felt. The strength that flowed through us.
“Stop daydreaming, bitch.”
My eyes pop open and one of the boys glares at me as he sloppily chews a mouthful of food. He points to his empty juice glass. “More.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
He pauses, turning his violet eyes on me. They’re filled with disgust. “Are you deaf? Fill the fucking glass.”
His friends laugh, and I will myself not to shatter the whole thing over his thick, royal skull. I fill the glass with bright pink juice.
That’s the first humiliation. The next hour is much of the same. I wipe, clean, refill, scrape, carry. There’s no end to the demands.
“Oops,” one girl says a moment after her full plate of food slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor.
I bend on my knees and pick up the mess.
“My bad,” says a boy standing over me. His pancake slides off his plate, landing on my cheek. It oozes down the side of my face and lands on the floor with a sticky plop.
Luke and Darius are kind enough to skirt around me.
The whole time I ignore the faculty table, where I feel the hard, angry eyes of the Immortals watching. The weird thing is that just by having them nearby, I feel more settled. By the time breakfast is over and the last of the students step or trip over me, I’m covered in syrup, my back aches, and I have to clean the entire empty room, alone.
Good thing we don’t have classes anymore. I don’t think I’d make it.
I’m wiping down the last table when I see a lanky figure by the door.
“Not now,” I say, walking past Marshal to the kitchen. The staff has vanished. Probably finished an hour before. I’m sure they’re in some dungeon peeling potatoes for lunch.
“How long are you going to let this go on?” he asks, following me in. The sight of him in the dank, smelly kitchen hits me as amusing. I doubt he’s ever been somewhere so utilitarian.
“Until Victorine realizes I’m not going to watch her torture students in her challenges.”
“She’s not going to stop.”
“Then I guess I’ll keep doing shitty jobs around the Academy. Got any laundry that needs washing?”
I push the cart toward the sink, tossing the dirty rags inside. I prickle under the heat of his gaze.
“Do you get off on watching me do manual labor? Fulfill some chambermaid fantasy of yours? Make you think of all the kitchen staff you defiled?"
He attacks like a viper, spinning me against the sink. He grabs my hand and rips the bandages off my fingers. The cuts are almost healed.
He pushes his face against my neck and inhales.
“What are you doing?”
But I know. I always know with Marshal.
“Armin, I expected, but Miya? That’s a bit of a surprise.”
“What are you talking about?”
He inhales again, his tongue darting out against my skin. It sends a hot shiver down my spine. He chuckles. “Rupert…I smell his scent on you but not his cum. You haven’t fucked him yet. Could he not get it up?” His eyes roam over me. “No. Probably the opposite.”
“You,” I say, trying to gather my words. Nothing clever comes. “You are so fucking weird.”
He laughs again, amusement dropping his guard. Using all my strength, I push him off. The smile drops as he flies backwards, and his head cracks against the wall. I walk over and kick him in the thigh, inches from his balls.
“You missed,” he croaks. “Or could you not bear to hurt the one thing about me that you like?”
He’s got a point.
“You’re such a pig.”
“And you’re a slut.”
Now I laugh. “Gods, that’s rich. How many girls have you screwed since Roland took over?”
I’d seen the condoms in the bathroom trash. Disposed of them. I’d only felt a slight flicker of jealousy.
He gets to his feet and smooths his hands down his long frame. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Honestly, it was a rhetorical question. I don’t give a shit.”
He swaggers over, cornering me against the wall. “Is it as good as what we had?”
He means Armin. Rupert. Miya.
“Better.”
I roll my eyes when he looks hurt. “Don’t pretend you care.”
“You may know my body, Hildi, but you don’t know my mind.” His jaw clenches and his voice drops. “They’re making progress, you know. Culling the weak. Fattening the strong. The longer this game goes on between you and Victorine, the longer she goes unchecked.”
“What are you saying?”
“This little power struggle you’re in? It’s a struggle of one. You against yourself.”
I look away from the intensity of his eyes, allowing his words to sink in.
“You’re getting played.” He pushes off the wall and walks away, disappearing out the swinging kitchen door.
19
Hildi
“It’s been a long time,” Circe says, sliding the shot across the bar.
I blink, taking in the bartender. We’d been friendly in New York, before I came to the Academy. The room has a flickering, shadowy atmosphere. I search the room for Morgan or one of the Raven Guard. Maybe they have a message for me. Maybe they’ve learned of my punishments and want to tell me I’m an embarrassment to them.
Or maybe, I realize, when no one else is in the room but me and Circe, this is just another weird dream.
I pick up the shot glass anyway. I may as well have a good time, even if it’s just pretend.
“How’s the mission?” the bartender asks.
“Shitty.” I lick a drop of alcohol that slides down my thumb. “I feel like we’re just a hot mess. This whole time I’ve basically had one job. One. And that’s to get the Immortals unified.”
“I told you they were feral the last time you were here. Did you think it was going to be easy?
“I didn’t think it would be this hard.” I rest my elbows on the bar. “I think I have Rupert, Armin and Miya on board. Marshal is a lost cause—big surprise. All he wants to do is make me crazy.”
“Sounds right.” She pours another drink. “What about the other one? The mean, angry one.”
“Agis?”
“I think he’s lost, too.”
Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “Well, that guy seems interested.”
As soon as she says it, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Even though I thought we were alone, it’s obvious that we’re not. I spin on my barstool and see a man leaning against the pool table across the room.
I can’t see his face.
But I recognize his body.
And his wings.
And my body? Holy shit, it reacts the second I see him, instantly becoming hot and wet.
“Do you know him?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.
Circe is gone, just the bottle of booze and two glasses on the bar top.
It’s just me and my winged lover.
Maybe this is just my brain's way of keeping me sane. There’s so much complication with the Immortals. Maybe I’ve conjured up a lover that doesn’t require so much work?
I pick up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, then slide off the stool.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I say, pretending like everything is normal.
“You’ve had a hard few days.”
I snort. “That’s the fucking truth.”
“I thought maybe I’d come and see if I can make things a little better.”
My breath catches in my throat and before I can reply, he’s taken the glasses and bottle out of my hands an
d scooped me into his arms.
“You don’t need a drink.”
“I don’t?” I ask, feeling a little woozy. Gods, he smells so good.
“No,” his mouth hovers over mine, “but I do think I can help.”
I grip his biceps as he kisses me, warm and sweet with passion. My whole body lights on fire, just from the memory of how he made me feel the last time we were together. I whimper against his mouth, craving more.
I look around for a bed, but none have magically appeared. What the fuck, brain?
“This is your fantasy, sweetheart,” he says, reading my mind. He kisses me again, tongue sweeping lazily against mine. I can’t see his face, but I can touch it, feeling the sharp angles of his square jaw, the planes of his cheekbones. I run my hands down his shoulders, fingering the buttons on his shirt. I say a prayer of thanks that his body isn’t obscured the same way his face is.
Gods, he’s magnificent.
I bend, reaching for his belt, but his hand clasps over mine and pulls me back up.
“What are you doing?”
“Tonight is about you. You spent the last two days on your hands and knees, Hildi. It’s time someone provided a service for you.”
A shiver runs down my spine. It’s something about the way he says my name. It’s so familiar. So right.
For once in my life, I don’t argue. I don’t fight back when he picks me up off the ground and kisses me long and hard, making me forget about Victorine, the challenges, and even the monsters prowling beneath the floor.
I allow myself to sink into him, into my dream for once, forgetting the pain and anguish of the day.
It’s daylight when I wake—not the pitch dark of the prior two days. No one has called for me. At least, not yet. I stretch in my bed, feeling full in my belly and, frankly, a little raw between my legs.
My winged lover worked diligently last night, licking, sucking, rubbing, and thoroughly eating me out.
“You look happy this morning,” Elizabeth says from across the room.
“I had an amazing dream.” I shift to my elbow. “Ever have one of those dreams that when you wake up you can still sense? Like it really happened?”
“Sometimes. Once I had a dream where I thought I overslept and got up, rushed around, fumbled for my clothing and then realized that I was still sleeping.” She shakes her head. “I felt like I was in a fog of déjà vu all day.”