by Angel Lawson
“In theory, yes,” Rupert says, having been quiet until this point. “We forgot one thing.”
Elizabeth leans forward. “What’s that?”
“That the Allyrimen warriors had wings.”
A small gasp sounds from the group hovering around my brothers. Armin shakes his head, no doubt recalling dawn breaking, and the white up above not being clouds but wings. It wasn’t until their swords were on us that reality sunk in.
“So you lost.”
Agis chuckles. “No. We never lost.”
“Ever?”
“Not when we were fighting as one.”
That’s the difference. We aren’t fighting together this time. We’re missing Marshal and Roland. One of those can be replaced by the balance Hildi brings to us…but two?
I finish my drink, not wanting to think about it.
Agis launches into another tale, this time about us tracking demons in the tropics. I tune him out, studying Hildi as she leans against the bar. Her position is casual, yet always on high alert. I can’t help but notice the way the leather of her pants hug her curves, or the way the tank stretches across her chest. I know she thinks I keep tight control on my urges, that I’m filled with peace and tranquility, but it’s a constant battle with her around. Especially now that she’s so closely connected to Rupert and Armin. Their bond is strong. Electrifying.
She turns to the bartender and he hands her another bottle, uncorking the top. I expect her to take a sip or go refill Armin’s glass, but she doesn’t. She turns and walks in my direction, easily locating me in the darkened corner.
She approaches and fills my glass, bending and giving me pleasant view of her cleavage.
“You’ve been over here for a while,” she says, tipping the bottle back to her lips, then licking them when she’s finished.
“Just listening to Agis’ stories.”
“He’s a good storyteller.”
“He’s a good truthteller.” The word story implies it’s made up. He doesn’t leave much out.
“Is it hard to listen to him?”
“I don’t need to relive those days. They were challenging enough the first time.”
She tilts her head and the flicker of the candle on the table casts her face in an angelic glow. “When we arrive in Valhalla, the warriors and Valkyrie love to sit around and tell exaggerated tales about the battles we’d just experienced.”
“Did you?”
“Carrying the dead, although an honor, is exhausting, dirty work. We choose their souls before they’re gone. A witness to their final moments—last words—deepest regrets. I always just wanted to wash the blood off my hands when the job was done and rejuvenate my spirit among the living.”
“How did you do that?"
“Sometimes I’d drink. Other times I’d dance.” She gives an example, gyrating her hips. I don’t need a reminder of how sensual she looks moving her body like that. “Then, there were the times I’d find a warrior that needed to take off the edge, and we’d work though it together, you know, in a totally virginal kind of way.”
The idea of her with another warrior sets my blood to boil. It shouldn’t. Hildi has had a long, fulfilled life. Obligations and desires. Just like I have. Just like the others. I don’t judge her, but I don’t like it. It triggers a long-dormant possessive streak.
She’s still standing before me, hips swaying to the beat of the music. She takes a sip of her drink, the motion making her shirt rise up, revealing her stomach. Never in my life have I wanted to touch something so badly. To know the softness of her skin. I lean back and spread my arms over the back of my chair, watching her watch me.
“Can I ask you something?” She walks around the table until she’s wedged between my body and the table.
“Of course.”
“If we’d known one another back then, in that other lifetime, do you think we would have helped one another?”
I look up at this woman, this temptation, feeling my resolve unravel like a thread. I’ve already done it once, under the guise of “helping” Hildi through the venom. It’d awakened something in me that I’ve since tried to manage and control. But the bond is real and fighting it seems futile.
“I’d like to think so.”
She moves quickly, confidently, straddling her legs on each side of my body and sitting in my lap. Heat pools between us.
“I think it’s time we stopped resisting one another,” she says, running her fingers down my jaw. “Can we agree on that?”
“Yes.”
“Then kiss me.”
I clench my jaw. “Once I cross this line, Valkyrie, there’s no going back.”
Her eyebrow raises and a small mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “Promise?”
I run my hand behind her neck, pulling her mouth to mine. Her lips are warm. Her tongue tastes like the alcohol flowing from the bar, and all the noise and stories and tales being told in the main part of the bar vanish as we focus on one another.
I sit up and reach around her, fingers meeting the tie holding back the curtain. I yank it and the fabric falls, closing out the tavern, our friends and allies. Right now, it’s me and Hildi and what we’re about to do to one another is between us.
32
Hildi
There’s an instant thrill to doing something taboo. Fucking Miya a few feet from the rest of my allies is deliciously off-limits. It leads to a different sort of arousal—a quiet perfection that Miya’s years of meditation has prepared him for.
Elizabeth, the smarter of the two of us, knew what she was doing when she told me to wear a skirt. Maybe she’s clairvoyant. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m just thankful that there’s no complicated barrier between the two of us—the mental and emotional one was hard enough to knock down. I shiver when Miya pushes my panties aside and guides himself to my core. He’s ready for me, probably has been for weeks, the tip of his cock slippery and warm. I’m soaked, spurred on by his mouth, his fingers, his hands.
I don’t waste time lowering myself on Miya’s hard arousal.
“Focus here,” he says, tilting my face opposite his. I want to close my eyes and fall down the well of this incredible man, but he’s entrancing—exposing me to something new—looking into the eyes of a lover.
Like everything else with this man, the pace is slow, consuming. I feel him deep inside and across the surface of my skin. He’s not in a rush, but his thrusts are solid, smooth. I want to cry with every stroke. He catches my mouth with his and quells any sound. His eyes hold mine, deep and stoic. How I know when he’s about to come isn’t based on sounds, or erratic movements. It’s a feeling that starts inside, where our bodies meet. Where not just our skin connects but our souls.
My eyes are open the whole time, even as the coil springs. Even as the wave drowns. Even as I struggle for breath.
Even as he comes inside of me, and I’m overwhelmed by that same odd yet assuring feeling of a puzzle piece snapping into place.
We stay like this, connected; physically and spiritually, while the sounds of the room reenter my consciousness. I hear Armin’s laughter, Agis’ deep voice, Rupert’s steady responses. I see the man in my arms, looking more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him.
“Do you think they know?” I ask, still curious about how all this works.
He kisses me, mouth hot. “They know.”
And that sends another wave of arousal through me. One fueled on power and fate.
One that takes us one step closer to winning this war.
33
Hildi
“Calm down! I’m coming,” I shout at the door. Whoever is out there wants to wake up the whole damn Academy.
I shrug on Rupert’s shirt over the tiny shorts. It’s the day after the party at the tavern, and somehow I ended up in Rupert’s room. Not that I’m complaining.
“Do you want me to get it?” he asks, fumbling with his pants.
“Nope.” I kiss him on the lips and cross the room, thinking of how I’m about to
punch whoever is pounding on the door.
I don’t know who I expect, but it’s not Marielle. Her dark hair is swept back over her shoulder and small rubies glint in her earlobes.
“What do you want?”
“I heard I could find you here,” she says, peering around the corner. Rupert stands by the couch, buttoning his pants. His lean, fit, upper body very visible. Marielle raises her eyebrows in approval.
That’s when I notice that she’s carrying something in her hands. A bucket with a thick, wiry brush inside. She drops it at my feet with a loud, echoing clang.
“You’ve been summoned.”
“By who?”
“Victorine, obviously.”
I suppose that is obvious.
“Why did she send you?”
A small smile turns at her bright red lips. “Oh, I volunteered.”
She turns to walk away.
“Hey!” I call. She spins. “You didn’t tell me where to go.”
“The stadium. The challenge is over for the night, but things got a bit messy. They need someone to clean up.” She waits for a reaction. All she gets is a door slammed in her face.
I turn and find Rupert right behind me. He places his hands on my upper arms. “I’ll come with you.”
“Thanks, but no.”
He frowns, marring his boyishly handsome face. “Why not?”
“This is between me and her.”
He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, no, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” I push up on my toes and brush my lips across his. “I’ll see you in training tomorrow.”
His hand catches mine. “You don’t have to face all of this alone, you know that, right?”
“I’m not facing it alone.” I rest my hand on his hip. “What we just did? That energizes me. It gives me strength to get through another day. The bond is real, Rupert, I can feel it.”
He nods. “I can, too.”
“You do your work. I’ll do mine.” He kisses me again, deeper than the time before. A flicker of warmth runs through me. “Hey, speaking of work, did you ever get a chance to decipher that book Agis found in Christensen’s office?”
“Book?” he asks, glancing at a massive stack on his desk. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Be careful, okay?”
He smooths out my hair and kisses my forehead. With that burst of energy coursing through me, I pick up the bucket and head out the door, feeling more prepared to face what’s coming at me than ever before.
The last time I saw the arena, the grass had been green.
Tonight?
It’s red.
There wasn’t a challenge tonight—there was a massacre. And the only thing left is the blood of the victims.
“They’re not dead,” I remind myself. The challenges are illusions. Tests.
I bend and touch the wet grass, lifting my fingers to my nose.
The challenges may be fake, but the blood real.
I gag, holding back the bile. I’d just have to clean that up, too.
There’s no one else on the field—just me and this small bucket and a single brush. A faucet with water sits at the edge of the grass. For a fleeting moment I almost go back and get Rupert. Armin. Miya. Agis.
Even Marshal’s snarky asides would be of comfort, but like I told Rupert, this is about me and Victorine. She wants to break me, and if she wants to break me, that means she’s afraid of me.
Why?
I’m not sure.
I drop to my knees and start scrubbing.
And scrubbing.
And scrubbing.
I don’t know how long I’m there, but at some point, the bucket and brush are taken from me and I’m led back to the dorms. By who? I don’t know. All I see is blood.
My fingers are raw. My knees bruised. My mind numb.
I keep it together in the shower; gentle hands soaping up my body and shampooing my hair.
My gaze is blurred as I’m dressed, and a comb runs through my hair.
It’s not until I get into bed, and hear the unfurling of wings, that I dare look at who’s helping me. Even then, it doesn’t matter. I still can’t see his face. I do feel his body; the strength of his arms as he cradles me. The soothing feel of his hands as he strokes my hair.
“That was—” I start, my voice disappearing in a bubble of sobs.
“Shhh…” he soothes, and I bury my face against his warmth, his scent is heavenly, a rich, spicy musk; it consumes me, taking away the gods-awful smell of blood.
My winged lover sits behind me and pulls my back against his chest, wrapping his arms and wings around me like a shield, protecting me from Victorine, from this harsh, terrible world, until the pain fades.
34
Armin
Rumor travels quickly in the stone halls of the Academy, and by the time I reach the training room the other Immortals are aware that Hildi had been forced to clean up the blood-soaked fields the night before.
“She’s strong,” Miya says, sharpening one of his blades. “I have no doubt she can push through such trauma. She was created to carry the dead to Valhalla. She’s spent more time on battlefields than anywhere else.”
I frown, uneasy. “There’s something about what Victorine and Roland are doing to her that is more psychological than physical. She came here grieving and tired already.”
“He knew that,” Miya notes. “He saw her after the fight with the Morrigan. After Andi died.”
“Are we surprised Roland is exploiting a weakness?” Armin says, looking unusually tired.
“No,” I reply. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Agis reaches for his fighting gloves. “This is why this whole bonding thing is bullshit. It’s putting her at risk, making her vulnerable.”
“That’s not true,” Rupert says, crossing the room from where he’d been adjusting his boots. “We’re giving her strength.”
“You’re getting off,” Agis shoots back. “Something you’ve all needed to do for a long time.”
Rupert’s face twists with darkness, and he lunges at Agis. It’s an uneven match physically, but Rupert’s smart and immediately goes for the back of the knee and his ribcage. Agis buckles, taken off guard, and Rupert knocks him to his knees, pulling out a short but sharp blade and pressing it against his throat.
“Woah!” Miya cries. The two of us rush over and drag them apart.
“What the fuck?” I ask, taking the blade from Rupert and giving Agis a dirty look. “This is ridiculous. We’ve agreed the bond is real, that it’s helping all of us. Well almost all of us—those of us willing to give it a shot.”
Agis hauls himself off the floor. “You know what I heard this morning when I walked out of my rooms? Is that the vampire, Marielle, saw you two together—compromised.” He points at Rupert. Then he swings his gaze at Miya. “And don’t think everyone didn’t know what the two of you were doing behind that very thin curtain at the tavern. Both of you just became targets, and if you think she’ll leave you alone, you’re foolish.”
“So far Victorine has left us alone,” Miya says.
“Has she?” he asks. “Or has she focused all her energy on the one person we need to lead us. She’s fucking with us, boys, like she always does.”
He walks toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Miya asks.
“Train without me. You’ll be fine.”
He vanishes through the magical door.
Miya asks, “What was that all about?”
“If I had to guess, two things. One, he’s trying to protect her, and two,” I run my hand over my face, “he’s protesting a little too damned much.”
Rupert’s eyebrows raise. “You think he believes in the bond?”
I say something I’ve been holding onto for weeks, maybe even before the night Garland was killed. “Not only do I think he believes in it, I think he feels it.”
Miya nods.
&
nbsp; “Yep,” I reply, thinking of the building tension between the two. “But there’s not much we can do, they have to figure it out on their own.”
A group of students cross through the doorway. Luke, Darius, and the others. I point to them. “Until then, we have an army to build.”
35
Agis
I storm through the building, pissed at my brothers.
How could they be so dumb?
Everything they do is just putting one target after the other on Hildi’s back. There’s no discretion, no consideration, no long-term plan.
Roland was right. They’re distracted and thinking with their cocks. And frankly, I feel like if I can get a handle on my emotions and desires, so can they. Especially with everyone fucking like rabbits.
I saw the look from Armin when I left the room. He knows I sense the bond—that I feel it wrapping around me like an invasive vine, choking out any and all other life. Why do I keep resisting it?
I’d told them.
They’re putting a gods-damned target on her back. They’re inciting the punishments. They’re keeping her in their sights. Every touch, every kiss, every fuck…it encourages them to harass her more.
I won’t be a part of that.
It’s probably the simple fact that I’m thinking about the traitor that I end up in front of his quarters. I don’t knock. Roland has no superiority on me. I just walk through the door of his office. He’s behind his desk with two females hovering nearby. One rubs his shoulders. Another stands with a tray of food in her hands. A wide book is open in front of him.
“Agis, my old friend. What brings you here?”
I walk toward the desk and rest my palms on the surface. “It’s time for you to stop.”
“Stop what?” he asks innocently.
“Harassing the Valkyrie.”
Roland’s blazing eyes hold mine. “Finally caved to her seductions? I’ve heard your brothers have.”
“Heard or felt?”
A dark cloud crosses his expression. It’s a fair question. Does Roland feel the same connection that we do? Does Marshal?