The Valkyrie's Guardian

by Moriah Densley

  Jack shouted in triumph as he finally wrestled her shoulders to the mattress. He covered her body with his and locked his ankles with hers to keep her from fighting back. She snarled, pretending to be livid, and he growled back, wrenching her arms above her head in an iron grip. Cassie laughed and arched against him, and he mirrored the movement as he rested his forehead on hers and made a purring sound in his throat.

  Cassie giggled like an idiot, delighted beyond words. His heated kisses, his breath, his body all conformed to a slow thrumming rhythm. The same war drums pulsed in her blood. He buried his nose in her neck, dragged deep breaths then tasted her skin. Whatever he sensed there spurred him on. She understood why he seemed intent on licking her neck like the last bit of syrup on a dessert plate when his skin started giving off the most maddening scent. She followed it to the hollow between his ear and jaw — a nutty wild mint mixed with a dark woodsy musk. A flavor like nutmeg, with an addicting note of salty citrus. So good. Craving swirled around in her head, a roaring hunger. Jack hummed against her shoulder and braised her there with his teeth.

  The rhythm grew savage, furious, and suddenly it was decision time. She felt so alive with a hundred sensations. Compulsions battled for satiation, her mood swinging from dark and greedy to sweet reverence. The only way out was through it, or so it seemed. Her conscience lurked far behind everything else she felt, but a niggling thought reminded her that Jack was not accountable at the moment, and she was technically taking advantage. Manipulating him.

  It was time to either stop or go through with it.

  Mas e do thoil e, eudail, he begged. His sexy crackled-caramel voice stroked her from the inside out, made her eyes close at the pleasure of the sound. She was guilted into releasing him, somehow. He sounded so sincere, so tender, she couldn’t stand it.

  Cassiopeia. Jack didn’t seem delusional, only earnest. He stilled and she rested under him, breathing hard and watching his eyes spark green fire. He looked around the room, then his free hand darted to the tray on the counter and closed over a scalpel. He turned her hand over and pressed it to his heart. He made a shallow cut above his wrist and paused with the blade poised over the inside of her hers.

  It took a moment, but then she got it. A traditional hand-fasting ceremony. She tried to not gape in bewilderment as she realized he meant to marry her, before he made love to her. It was archaic. Definitely romantic. Slightly barbaric, but then, what about the past minutes was civilized? She’d always known who he was, accepted his heritage. Why not take the whole package?

  Cassie nodded her consent and watched his expression as he held their wrists together, mixing their blood. Their opposite hands crossed to rest over the other’s heart. Jack muttered ceremonial words in Gaelic, they had a musical lilt, and Jack spoke them like they stuck in his throat. She thought he might weep again. He waited, and she was glad she’d memorized the lines, because he expected her to say them back. He corrected her once and smiled, and it stopped her heart. She knew he was satisfied when he exhaled in silent laughter and crushed her against his chest.

  Tha gaol mo chridhe agam ort-sa, Cassie.

  Her heart clenched, she would know that tone of voice anywhere. I love you too, Jack.

  It was the point of no return, and seconds later neither were virgins anymore. It happened with that slow-motion stretching of time that hiked her senses into overdrive. Somehow Jack had calmed from the frenzy that drove them both to near-violence before. He rocked her slowly, caging her protectively with his shoulders. He locked gazes with her, and she couldn’t look away from his kaleidoscope green eyes, burning a bright iridescent color she’d never seen before. He took her hands and laced his fingers between hers, his manner more serious than she’d ever seen him.

  She was glad their first time was slow and sweet. Without her senses in a tangle, her mind had room to think about what mattered; the devotion he didn’t hide from her, the ultra-sexy sight of him carefully restraining his strength, the slow escalation of pleasure building in her core. Cassie stroked her legs over the backs of his, enjoying the way he squirmed when she teased the sensitive nerves behind his knee. She freed her hands and tousled his hair, making sure he understood she was happy, that it felt good.

  Sublime, she breathed as her eyes dropped closed.

  Ceart, he answered in the same tone. Why couldn’t he speak English yet? She’d expected him to jolt awake from his trance long ago, instead he seemed to have drawn her into the dream with him.

  Cassie bit her lip and swallowed a moan, loving the feel of his hair-dusted chest rubbing over hers, the gentle rasp of his whiskers grazing her cheek. She urged him harder, faster, and impossibly the bittersweet tension spun into minutes, hours — who knew? Time had stretched again, drawing each second into infinity.

  Ceart, eudail. He ground her into the mattress and ordered, Siuthad.

  Her body obeyed. Her back arched, her fingers raked down his arms, and she shouted his name as electric rapture seized her entire being. The moment suspended, throbbed through her core, traveled up and down her spine, tingled at the tips of her fingers and curled her toes. Her vision darkened and she nearly fell unconscious under the consuming pulse.

  The most beautiful sight she’d ever seen was Jack baring his teeth, his muscles plumped and straining while his lips chanted her name like a prayer. He lost control. He threw his head back and suffered silently while she clung to his shoulders and locked her legs over his flanks, riding out the storm.

  It took long minutes for him to quit shaking. The tension leached from his muscles slowly. He dropped his head to rest on her chest and let his arms fall over the sides of the bed. He mumbled soft phrases over and over, it sounded like he soothed her, making tender promises he would never say if he weren’t in such a state. His skin heated hers, his pulse calmed in tempo with hers.

  She grazed her fingers over his back, sliding over sweat-slicked ridges and lines. His back was beautiful too, she decided, thinking the deep ridge down the center flanked by symmetrical muscle made a very masculine, sensuous silhouette. She toyed with the twin dimples in the small of his back, then traced the shape of his backside. Tight and muscular like the rest of him. He twitched when she rubbed the indentation joining his hip to his waist, and when he did it again, she figured he was ticklish there. Good to know, for future reference.

  Still her womb throbbed and burned, and she became aware of an unnatural warmth, even hotter than the contact of Jack’s skin made hers. Still after he rolled to the side and tucked her into his arms, her insides radiated with what felt like chemical heat.

  Oh, wow. She knew why. Of course.

  Jack dozed with his face buried in her hair, his breath superhumanly slow and deep, the way she imagined a giant would sleep. His heart beat against hers in languid, strong strokes. The simple contentedness floating from his thoughts made her fall in love with him all over again. He was so happy.

  And now he would be a father.

  She could feel it, the warmth spreading deep in her loins. A growing dull ache like a mild cramp. No known contraceptive works for a berserker.

  How could she have forgotten?

  Did he?

  No one bothered them. Cassie lay silently, turning the situation over in her head. She was pretty sure she’d just married Jack. At least he’d believed it was a done deal. She expected there was a 150-percent chance she’d just gotten pregnant, and couldn’t discover an ounce of regret over it. Anxiety: in spades.

  Cassie listened awhile and decided Jack’s vitals had slowed too much. He was drained of energy, still recuperating. His body had needed calories desperately before this episode; no doubt he’d be in danger soon without a sumo-sized meal. She’d have to do better than a deli sandwich.

  She had to pinch him in a way that was just plain mean to get him to wake up. Even that didn’t spoil his mood. His eyelids were too heavy t
o lift, and she laughed as he struggled to keep them open. That breathtaking lazy smile spread over his lips, and she indulged in one more kiss before turning into a drill sergeant.

  “Jack, wake up!” She propped her head on her elbow and teased, “Since I squished your sub sandwich, can we call it a panini and you’ll still eat it?”

  He chuckled and rolled onto his side. His eyes lowered then widened as he took in her bare breasts. He gazed lower and registered she was stark naked, lying in bed with him. Jack shouted a curse she had never heard him utter before, and he shot up out of bed. He smacked his head on the cupboards and nearly passed out. She scrambled to catch him under the armpits and set him back on the bed. He winced as she tossed the wrapped sandwich into his lap.

  She ordered, “Eat,” the same moment he blurted, “What in nine hells just happened?”

  Cassie bit her tongue and stared him down, trying to judge his condition. That he spoke English and had the presence of mind to slam his mindshield into place indicated he was finally lucid. Meaning … he hadn’t been before?

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, the stubble on his jaw shushing like sandpaper. A cautious, weary look settled in his expression. His eyes shone their normal shade of hazel green. The Jack who woke a moment ago was not the same Jack who fell asleep.

  Oh, no. Bloody hell, she was in big trouble. “Why don’t you eat the sandwich, and then we’ll talk.”

  He scowled, cataloging the wrecked equipment, scattered tools, and the shocking damage to the drywall around the bed. Every plastic implement in a thirteen-foot radius had melted or warped, from the heatwave he’d generated and her electrical tantrum. Guessing by his flared nostrils, he noticed the intoxicating scent branded on them both, but he didn’t seem to believe it.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Chapter 15

  Le mo làimh dheas rid’ chridhe, m’ fhuil a’ cluinntinn d’ anam,

  A’ gealladh mo bheatha dod’ sgiath, mo shìol an fhoghar,

  M’ anam-charaid, nis a ghràidh,

  Mo stòras bhuan gus dia ar dhealach’ tro bàs.

  With my right hand to thy heart, my blood hears thy soul

  I pledge my life for thy shield, my seed for reaping

  My soulmate, now lover, my treasure for life

  Until God shall separate us by death.

  Jack was in a dozen different kinds of trouble.

  Only one reason why he could be naked with Cassie and feel satisfied. If he were a smoker, he’d burn through a whole pack right now. The longer he sat trying to clear the fog from his head, the more he remembered. He didn’t have to try hard — it was memorable. He’d been in control, but he’d been out of his mind. How he got there, he couldn’t say.

  Cassie’s scent was altered. He kept breathing it in, savoring it on the back of his tongue. It was no less tantalizing, but her spunky anise and honey almond scent now had smoky low notes. Earthy and rich, the smell of a claimed woman. The scent of her impending death.

  “What have I done?” He hung his head in his hands. The weight of his actions settled on his mind like an anvil. He imagined Kyros first, livid as a destroying angel. Kyros would grieve the loss of his granddaughter as well as the betrayal of a friend. Jack would regret it second only to what he’d done to Cassie. That he couldn’t bear to think of in detail, not yet.

  His voice cracked, “Why, Cassie? Why did ye let me?”

  She wadded the deli wrapper then sat up from the bed and leaned against his back. It shocked him, the contact of her skin against his. She kissed the back of his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaving his arms free to cover hers. Oh yeah, he liked that, even as he loathed himself.

  She chuckled. “Because you looked so hot wearing a sheet I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I have a thing for Tarzan. Think you could do it again, but with cheetah print?”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t out of pleasure. “It’s not funny.” He didn’t want to ask, but did it anyway, “Can you feel it already?”

  She knew what he meant. “Yes.”

  Yes, she was pregnant. Of course. She was at her most fertile — he’d been driven wild by the scent of it. It wasn’t necessary, just as a bonfire needed no fuel, but it’s why she knew already.

  “So, are we legal, or should we visit the chaplain?” She stroked his neck, chasing shivers down his spine.

  In every way that mattered, she was his. The simple ceremony had sufficed for generations of his ancestors and was more binding than any piece of paper. He couldn’t imagine it was any girl’s idea of a dream wedding, though. “We’re married, according to my clan. I’ll do right by you if you want another ceremony. Just say the word.” Damn, but the words came out like a eulogy.

  “Cassie MacGunn, Mrs. MacGunn,” she tried it out with a Scottish accent. “Why so glum? I thought you were tired of being a wild-oats-sowing womanizer?”

  He kept his mind clamped shut, sparing her the storm clouds in his head. He could find no hint that her weird sunshine mood was an act. “Maybe I didn’t explain this clearly to you before. The reason I didn’t want to have sex with you, is because there is bazillion-to-one odds I’ll knock you up. Too late. The reason that is bad, is because there is about the same odds that the baby will be a berserker male, who will kill you as he is born.”

  “Oh, you made yourself clear the first time. I don’t care. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “You don’t understand. Life has a different meaning in my clan. The men die in battle, and the women die giving birth. It’s been their way for centuries, some ancient code of honor. My mother survived my two older brothers before I killed her. I’m abnormal, even for a berserker. My offspring will be abnormal. And you’re way smaller than my mother. Cass — I’ve just killed you.”

  “I’m not so sure. What if I can heal myself? Or Kyros? Or both me and Kyros plus a team of highly talented medical personnel? This isn’t the highland boondocks.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. But you will.”

  “Either way the baby will live.”

  “Damn you, Cassie.”

  “Better make the nine months worth it.”

  “Ten and a half.”

  “Ten-plus months pregnant? You didn’t tell me that! Okay, I quit.”

  He really couldn’t see the humor in any of this.

  “You look like you need to loosen up. This bed is pretty much scrap, but I’ve always had a fantasy about you and countertops.”

  Jack took her hand and kissed her knuckles, an old-fashioned gesture. He turned her palm over and looked at the shallow cut across her wrist, evidence of their blood vow which she’d decided to let heal naturally.

  Spilled milk, Pandora’s box, Romeo’s poison, Cassie’s death sentence: all too late to undo. He lifted her into his lap and began ten-and-a-half months of pretending to be happy, of trying to make her happy, while knowing he could never atone for it as long as he lived.

  • • •

  One of Cassie’s earliest memories was of Jack, sitting propped against the scarred wall of a safehouse in Marseilles, pouring his heart and soul into a set of uilleann pipes.

  She was six, and he was a god.

  Hours before that, he had burst through a glass window and wrestled her attacker to the ground, in the middle of a chaotic gunfight and house fire. That’s how she met him the first time. Merodach had tracked her family and made an attempt to kidnap her using an attack squad — only one battle in a centuries-old feud with Kyros, who hadn’t known she existed. She met her ninth-great-grandfather later. He was outside facing Merodach, and Jack had gone inside to find her.

  His face painted, Jack wore a fan of weapons on his back like turkey feathers, making him appear like a giant monster. She heard benevolence and righteous anger in his
thoughts over the clamor of voices shouting in French, even as he snapped necks and cut throats.

  She watched in horror as a bullet tore through his shoulder. He rocked back then went down as three black-clad men tackled him. More bustled through the doorway. She crawled under the bed and covered her head with her hands, the frightening thunder of gunshots still ringing in her ears. From her hiding place she could see the limp hand of the man who had startled her awake by grabbing her, dragging her out of bed. The ugly violence in his thoughts had made her ill. Nothing came from the man’s mind now, because Jack had stopped him, just in time.

  Cassie remembered the darkness turning to light in an instant, and it took her a moment to comprehend Jack had lifted the bed. She unfolded herself from the fetal position and saw the giant man smiling, one hand outstretched toward her and the other hand holding her bed, which appeared to be floating in the air. The doorway was lit by flickering red light, and flames licked through the open window. Smoke fogged the room — the house was on fire.

  Come lass, ye’ll be safe.

  She gasped open-mouthed, the first time another extra-sentient had spoken in her mind. The first time she’d encountered another extra-sentient, for that matter. She’d never even heard of Kyros’ term for the hyper-evolved species of human, extra-sentient. She’d always thought she was a freak. Cassie grieved that her mother was always frightened and supposed it was her fault. She was too little to understand how fear of Merodach had haunted the past eight generations of mothers and daughters, back to Francesca, who had been cruelly tortured and slain by Merodach. Simply because she was Kyros’ wife, privy to information about his operations.

  As clearly as it had happened then, Cassie remembered the power of Jack’s searing green eyes and the moment she decided to trust him. She had been shaking with cold and fright, but tucked in his arms as he ran, his heat relaxed her tensed limbs. He rocked her to sleep with the rhythm of his smooth gait. It could have been minutes or hours while he ran, probably at speeds too fast to track with the human eye.