by Jane Cousins
“And what would that be?” Stephanie took the pro-offered piece of paper. For a Demon who had panicked over one little kiss and spent the day avoiding her, Galen was acting strangely relaxed, friendly… and she wasn’t imagining that simmering heat in his gaze as he studied her intently.
Damn, things low in her body began to fire up. He looked so ridiculously good, in white linen trousers and a matching shirt, only three buttons done up, exposing that muscular, broad, tanned chest of his. Phew, was it hot on this Demon plane or what? His dark hair was messy, as if he’d run his fingers constantly through it absently. His jaw clean shaven. And those eyes of his, like pools of bewitching midnight seas beckoning Stephanie to dive in.
“It’s a map.”
What was a what? Oh, the piece of paper. She unfolded it, staring at the sketch of the Palace and the accompanying instructions. She wanted to scrunch it up and hurl it aside. He was kicking her out of the Conflict Demon Realm? Because of one little - didn’t mean a damn thing - kiss?
“After… last night. I wanted you to have options.”
Yeah, yeah. She got it. The Demon was giving her the bum’s rush because she’d stupidly brought emotions into what should have been nothing more than a torrid, sizzling - bang your boots - session. Her bad. But still, hadn’t she proven useful last night at the party? Keeping all the She-Demons and their politically minded parents at bay? It wasn’t like she planned to kiss him again.
“Okay.” She should say something else, shouldn’t she? Something mature and cool. “Thank you.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” Galen eyed her. No hatchets were swinging towards his neck. No outraged gold boot was trying to kick his balls up through his chest.
Stephanie blinked. He thought she’d protest? Or maybe he thought she’d beg to stay by his side. Hanging around like some desperate idiot in case he turned that dark, lustful gaze in her direction once more. Sweeping her up, taking her to the brink… only to walk away over one simple little misstep.
Funny, she thought she’d be gripped by seething anger, wanting nothing more than to commit some violent act against him. Given this was, go on, admit it, perhaps the second most embarrassing moment of her long life so far. (Do not think about sitting naked on Galen’s lap buck naked, no good could come of that memory.) But all she felt was a cold, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt adrift, directionless. It was another novel feeling and she didn’t like it, not one little bit.
Sweeping her legs around, Stephanie did her best not to knock knees with Galen. He was crowded in so close. Probably trying to spare her the indignity of having the Palace Guards overhear this mortifying conversation.
It was surprising then, when Galen abruptly grasped her hands in his, locking her in place, keeping her from making a hasty exit, away from him, away from this Realm. He leaned forward, it was almost like he was going to kiss her, which was ridiculous. But it distracted Stephanie just long enough that Galen had a chance to begin speaking.
“You can’t know how sorry I am. What I did last night… there is no excuse for my behaviour.” He gripped her hands tighter, leaning even closer, his voice low, full of sincerity. “You have to know that I would never… never… I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t ask… I just took… mindless, like some caveman, all but hitting you over the head and hauling you off to my lair.”
Stephanie’s heart began to race, and wonderful heat swept through her gut, dispelling that cold, heavy nasty feeling that had briefly assailed her. “You… let me get this straight. You took off last night because you think you took advantage of me?” Dead sure she’d never accused anyone of doing that before.
“Stephanie, I all but… savaged you. I ripped your clothes off. I was barely thinking at all. Which I know, is a piss poor excuse. It has to be one of the side effects of going unmated Knustabber. Which again, a poor excuse. Unforgiveable. I must have been teetering on the stabby edge last night and focused on you instead. Used you.”
Stephanie frowned. He was apologising for last night? He hadn’t run off because of the kiss. Phew. Close one.
“I was all but mindless. Crude and brutal. My inner Demon has never been so close to the surface before… I can only reiterate how truly sorry I am for my actions.”
That cold, leaden feeling was back, making her stomach feel like a yawning pit. Then she thought about his words, all but. All but mindless? Had there been some glimmer of Galen still in there, still in control of his actions? She’d seen that intense, focused, laser beam look in his eyes as they locked upon her, it had felt personal. Like a connection had been established between them. “Are you saying that any female would have fit the bill late night? That if, say Aspen, had stumbled across your path, you would have swooped her up instead?”
“Hell no. Absolutely not.”
Galen sounded so very certain, that leaden feeling lightened. “Did you choose me because I am so very close to your ideal mate in physical appearance?”
He had argued with himself all day whether to come clean, tell Stephanie the truth, that he loved her. But in the end he’d come to realise that revealing his feelings would only be self-serving, and might come across as some sad ploy to save his life. His Valkyrie no doubt already considered him scum, he didn’t want her to remember him as emotional, pathetic scum.
“All I know is, that the moment I saw you across the room at the party last night, I had to be with you, touch, taste… take you… only you, no one else, Stephanie, only you.”
Welcome heat blossomed in Stephanie’s gut, her lady parts were throbbing in time with her heart beat and she felt strangely giddy. Okay, there had obviously been some assumptions made on both sides last night regarding their hot and heavy almost fuck session, she could fix those. Then, the banging of boots and the breaking of beds could commence.
“Galen, I-” A shadow suddenly loomed, blocking out the largest of the suns. It was her first clue something was wrong. Wrenching her hands from Galen’s, Stephanie swooped up the clipboard, blocking the sword that was whistling through the air, aimed for Galen’s head.
Fuck, Galen stumbled back, just managing to get to his feet, his lounger falling on its side. He saw the flicker of orange flame in the Guard’s eyes, a rictus mask of rage etched on his face. Stabby! The Guard had devolved.
Confusion reigned. Several of the Guards appeared to believe Galen was attacking their stabby colleague. Throwing themselves forward, weapons drawn, targeting Galen.
Others, in a better position to see Stabby’s face, threw themselves into the melee with the intention of subduing him.
Fuck. Galen scooped up the metal ice bucket, using it to block several sword thrusts. Lord below, he should be helping Stephanie battle the Berserker, but he was too busy dealing with several over eager idiots. Ducking as a sword sliced overhead, level with where his neck would have been.
Morons, could they not see their colleague was a whirling dervish, out of control? Grunting, spitting, and all but frothing at the mouth? Double fuck. He side stepped another sword, almost stumbling over the fallen lounger.
Fiery Pits of Hell. Suddenly he found he wasn’t averse to the idea of teaching these panicking idiots a lesson, via a broken bone or two. In fact, he kind of enjoyed the idea of taking a little bit of his frustrations out on the Guards. Okay, which one of these assholes deserved a metal ice bucket to the head first? Choices. Choices.
Stephanie side stepped to the right, allowing the sword wielded by the Guard with the flickering orange eyes to slide off the clipboard harmlessly. She watched for all the normal tell tale signs that would indicate how he would attack next. But his gaze didn’t appear to actually be focused upon her. And his body language? There was little finesse to his attack, just thuggish all out savagery. He appeared to have no concept of fear, or protecting himself, which just made him that much more dangerous as he hacked his sword in her direction. The wind whistling as steel sliced through the air with surprising speed.
The orange flickering gaze? The frothing at the mouth? The mindless rage? The increased strength? No fear or self-preservation? She was guessing she was looking at Galen’s future, berserker stabby. It angered her. The idea of smart, funny, suave, and arrogant Galen, devolving into such a creature. She abhorred the idea.
Ducking low, and using the clipboard like a scythe, Stephanie jabbed hard at Stabby’s wrist. No reaction. Either in this state a Conflict Demon felt no pain or he was too far gone to register anything but pure rage. A formidable opponent indeed.
Grrr, Stephanie bit her lip to stop from cursing as the Squad Captain elbowed her out of the way, blocking Stabby’s next sword thrust. She had to tamp down hard on the urge to call her hatchets and elbow the Captain out of the way in turn. No, being a Valkyrie was still an ace up her sleeve. One she thought she may need yet.
The Captain grunted, blocking several sword thrusts, but Stabby, all but a whirling dervish, gave him no chance to go the offensive. Stephanie was nudged aside rather roughly yet again by two more Guards who were attempting to back up their Captain. She could take a hint.
Whirling, she strode over to the group surrounding Galen, stepping up behind one Guard, who was intent upon gutting him. Slapping him hard on the ear. When he reared back in pain, she ducked in front of him and jabbed her clipboard into the larynx of another Guard, just as Galen swung the ice bucket around and clocked him on the temple.
The Demon choked briefly, trying to catch his breath even as his eyes fluttered shut and he slumped to the sand unconscious. Stephanie whirled on the Guard she’d slapped up the side of the head who was glaring daggers her way and raising his sword.
“Idiot. Look! He’s the one whose gone stabby.” She pointed to the small group fighting off to the side. “Back up your squad.” She rolled her eyes, watching as he stumbled across the sand away from them.
Stephanie studied the fight closely. It was both interesting and disconcerting to watch Stabby blindly rage with the strength of five Conflict Demons. There was no skill or expertise present in his attack. Nothing but pure violence. His sword. His fist. He was relentless, and out of control. Pain, if he felt it, was inconsequential. The number of bodies lying either unconscious or moaning, injured on the sand, grew to number seven, including the one who lay at Galen’s feet.
Hmm, at this rate Stabby would take out the remaining four Guards in the next few minutes and start hacking his way through the party-goers. Who all remained present, staring, eerily quiet, eyes locked on the fight, shock, and something else on their faces, their eyes a little glazed, almost as if they were drunk. Oh, the waves of conflict emanating from the fight, they were feeding.
Stephanie glanced Galen’s way, expecting him likewise to be too far gone, but his ink dark gaze met hers. “What do you need me to do?”
And damn, if that warm glow hadn’t gone from simmering to boil in her gut. She liked that since this was a combat situation he assumed she would take the lead. “Can we kill him?”
Galen shook his head, watching as another body hit the sand, sprawled in an ungainly heap, bleeding profusely. “Ideally, no. He’s someone’s son. Brother. We need to subdue him. One or more of these idiots should have special, be-spelled ropes on them. Contain, then tie him up.”
“Okay. Follow me, bring the ice bucket.”
Stephanie picked up the lounger Galen had knocked over and moved to stand behind Stabby, watching his fist and sword flail about. Trying to determine if there was some pattern or identify a gap.
Damn it, he was too erratic. Oh, except when his sword penetrated the squad Captain’s chest and got stuck for just a split second. Lightning fast, Stephanie stepped forward bringing the lounger down hard over Stabby’s head. Plastic parted, Stabby found himself momentarily trapped by bands of plastic and the iron frame. “Now.”
Stephanie glided to the side and like a well oiled machine Galen stepped up and swung hard, putting all his boxing expertise behind the punch, as the metal ice bucket rammed into Stabby’s temple.
Stabby roared his displeasure.
“Again.” Stephanie instructed but Galen was already hauling back and slamming the metal bucket into Stabby’s temple a second… third… the fourth time was a charm as Stabby’s orange flickering eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled sideways, still trapped in the lounger. Landing awkwardly on his side, his butt pointed upwards at the sky.
All around them the party-goers blinked and breathed deeply, inhaling, taking one more giant gulp of conflict before they began to clap enthusiastically. As if the Guard going stabby wild was all part of some weird entertainment arranged by the Queen.
Galen stepped over to a prone Guard who was suffering sword cuts to the face, chest and legs, grabbing a coiled rope from his belt. Tossing it at one of the only two remaining Guards standing upright. “Here. Tie him up.” Turning, he faced Stephanie. Lucifer, she looked gorgeous. Her blue eyes shining brightly, breathing hard, a small smile playing at the corners of her luscious mouth. His Valkyrie had enjoyed herself. She was in a killing mood. Good, he liked seeing her happy.
Stephanie glanced at Galen, his hair was messy, his shirt torn, the ice bucket, stained red with blood still gripped in his hand. Sweet Freyja, things low in her body throbbed and ached. Stepping forward she grabbed him by the ripped shirt, fisting the material, pulling him close. “Come. We have things to do.” They would drink ale and bang boots.
Though hopefully not in that order.
Galen made no protest, letting his Valkyrie haul him away from the party. Of course Stephanie would want no witnesses when she killed him and made her escape from this Realm. He would not be like that poor bastard back there on the sand, packaged off to the Western Front. Doomed to fight for centuries as a mindless, raging savage. He’d much rather face his destiny right here, right now, at the hatchets of the woman he had come to love and whom he had failed.
It was only right, only fair, that she be the one to take his life.
Chapter Fifteen
Galen was surprised when Stephanie began to perp walk him in the direction of the Palace. Her grip on his torn shirt unrelenting. He’d assumed that she would want to kill him somewhere a little more isolated, maybe step off the jungle path and have done with it. But her destination appeared to be that of the suite they’d been assigned.
To be honest, the thought of inconveniencing his aunt just a little, having to have their room specially cleaned and his body disposed of, it was a small slight, but he could get behind it.
He would never have the answer as to why Laynn had been so intent upon having him magically melded to one of her bridal candidates. But again, if it derailed or upset her machinations, then he was perfectly fine with moving on from this Realm to the Ninth Circle of Hell. May his spirit rest in the eternal fires.
At the entrance to their suite, Stephanie pushed Galen inside, quickly turning to close the double doors and bolt them. No one was going to interrupt them, or there would be blood spilt. She would guarantee it. Facing Galen, she grinned. “Let’s get this done, Demon.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“Let’s start with the bed. Then I like the idea of that wall over there. The shower is nice and roomy, so that should definitely be factored in. And I can definitely see that chair there coming in useful.”
“You really want to draw this out, don’t you?” Fuck, he’d been hoping for a quick death but it seems like his Valkyrie had other plans. He straightened his spine, waiting for the first strike. He wanted her to remember that he faced his final moments with dignity, never flinching.
Stephanie rolled her eyes. Seriously, was he just going to stand there like a lump? What happened to all the take charge action from last night? Okay, he obviously had tight control of his inner Demon right now, but all that heat, need and desire still had to
be bubbling away inside of him somewhere, didn’t it?
Fine, she’d make the first move. By rights it was her turn.
Galen was proud of himself for not flinching as Stephanie approached him. Don’t move. Don’t move. Take it like a Demon. What the… he stared down, confused as Stephanie’s dexterous fingers undid one of the few remaining buttons of his shirt. The tips of her fingers brushing across his ribs, a trail of heat igniting his flesh where she made contact. He stepped back abruptly. He could take death, but torture? He wasn’t sure he could stand still for that. “You might have to tie me up.”
Stephanie smiled, she really liked that idea, Galen at her mercy, but… “Later. And if you are very good, I’ll grab the clipboard, wear heels and those glasses you like so much and you can give me some dictation, Mr Darvyn.” Ocean blue eyes gleamed with mischief and the promise of naughty, naughty things. Stephanie reached out for the final button that remained holding Galen’s torn shirt together, surprised when he grabbed her hand.
“Hold on. What exactly are we doing here?”
“Fucking.” Stephanie wondered if he’d taken a hit to the head during the melee on the beach.
“No.” Galen dropped her hand and took a big step back, away from the gorgeous, oh-so tempting Valkyrie. “No.” Another step away. “No, we’re back here so you can kill me.”
“Kill you?”
“Stephanie, last night.” He reminded her. “I’m not safe to be around.”
Damn it, she’d forgotten in all the fun of bashing a few Demons about that Galen was under the misapprehension that he’d somehow wronged her last night. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m sure you have a whole litany of names you would like to hurl at me.”
“Nope. I think I’ll just stick with idiot… a ginormous idiot. You think what happened last night wasn’t consensual?”