What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

“I’d like you to take a memo, Miss Smith. You’ll need to sit on my lap, of course.”

  Stephanie magic’d up the tiny black suit she’d worn two nights ago, forgoing the lacy camisole and underwear. She adjusted the black glasses and checked to make sure the fuck me black stilettoes matched the outfit. Perfect. All she needed now was the clipboard, ah, there.

  Galen, sat down on the large armchair, his gaze locked on Stephanie, admiring her long bared legs in the mini skirt. “Well hurry up Miss Smith, we don’t have all day.”

  “Yes, Mr Darvyn. Coming Mr Darvyn.” Stephanie’s core creamed as a confident arrogant smile settled on Galen’s lips that let her know that very soon she would be coming, no doubt screaming his name as she did so.

  Bring on the dictation.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Is it always that fast?”

  Whoa, as criticisms went, that all but demolished his male ego. Who in the blazes was Stephanie comparing him to? Personally, Galen thought he’d done some of his best work last night between the now shredded sheets.

  “I’m just saying, one moment he’s your everyday Conflict Demon, the next, wham, he’s hacking away with his sword like a Demon possessed. Friends, foe, it didn’t matter to him, did it? You could tell from that look in his eyes that all he wanted was carnage and blood.”

  Galen idly trailed a finger down Stephanie’s spine, admiring the way that the bluish rays of Ausal, the first of the Realm’s suns to breach the horizon, played across her velvety smooth skin. “Instant Berserker mode. And no, I’ve never heard of one of my brethren turning so fast. I understand the Palace Guard are screened constantly for symptoms. Either someone failed in their job. Or stabby Guard spontaneously turned. Which I would have thought impossible. He seemed fine earlier in the day. No outbursts of anger or increase in appetite.”

  “Zero to Berserker in one point five seconds.”

  “There’s my future right there. Not pretty, is it?”

  Stephanie’s head shot up so she could glare at Galen. Resolutely ignoring the sight of that bare chest, refusing to get distracted. “Don’t say that. That is not going to happen to you.”

  “Please, we both know that I’m not going to be claimed by my mate in the ten days I have left before the wedding my aunt has planned for me.”

  “You don’t know that.” Stephanie declared, even as uncomfortable little jabs low in her gut made her want to squirm. “We have the list, or at least an outline, you just need to fill in the particulars.” Grrr, those annoying little jabs were only grown sharper. She hated this topic.

  “No. I need to be realistic here. The chances of me being claimed by my soul mate? Slim to none would be my best odds.” A Valkyrie claiming a Conflict Demon? What had he been thinking?

  “You are not going to spontaneously turn stabby. You told me yourself you have weeks, perhaps months left. Besides, you have iron control. You won’t let some pesky ailment get the best of you.”

  “Pesky ailment?” Galen laughed. “You saw the Guard yesterday. Did that… thing he became look like it could be fixed with an aspirin and a cup of honey tea? I refuse to go down that road, I won’t be a mindless, raging savage.”

  Grrr, suddenly those sharp jabs dissolved, replaced by a burning roiling that felt as if Stephanie had somehow managed to swallow molten lead. “So you’ve decided to choose a bride from your aunt’s selection and go through with a magical forced meld?”

  “No. I… I need to ask you a favour.”

  Galen suddenly looked so serious and scowly gorgeous that Stephanie was grateful she wasn’t standing, because her knees felt wildly unsteady, even though she was lying down. Trying to lighten the mood she attempted a joke. “Don’t worry, I was definitely going to leave you a five-star rave Yelp review for services rendered last night, no need to ask.”

  The edges of Galen’s lips lifted ever so slightly in what could have almost passed for a smile. Stephanie’s roiling gut lurched, whatever Galen was about to ask her was vitally important to him.

  “Stephanie… I… last night was great.” Great? Ten hours of constant fucking and he could only come up with great as a descriptor? Lame. Damn, where had all his smooth courtroom banter moves gone? “And this is beyond crass. The timing and everything… it’s just, I trust you to get it right. At the last moment I might baulk. Or my inner Demon might try to fight back, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’m sure-”

  Stephanie frowned, resting her chin on a raised hand as she stared at Galen trying to guess what the hell sort of favour he could want from her. What could he possibly be waffling about? Valkyries were renown for two things, sex and killing. Oh! “You want me to kill someone?”

  “Yes.” Galen was relieved his Valkyrie had gotten to the point for him.

  “Sure. Who?”

  “Me.”

  “Excuse me.” Stephanie sat up, suddenly weirdly conscious she was naked. Calling her shellan she fashioned it into white short-shorts, and a blue t-shirt. Hopping off the bed she backed away from Galen who’d sat up also but didn’t make any move to leave the bed. He just sat there, watching her reaction to his request… FOR HER TO KILL HIM. What the fuck?

  “I’m not suicidal. This is not my preferred option, believe me. But you saw that thing out there yesterday. Imagine me turning into that? I’m nothing but a ticking time-bomb. And the thought of spending centuries on the Western Front, fighting the Morghdorn Horde? Okay, I won’t actively be aware of it, but that’s the thing, I won’t be me anymore. Knustabber, when it takes me, will effectively wipe me, Galen Darvyn, from existence. All that will remain will be some manic, frothing at the mouth, killing machine.”

  “But to ask me to…” She couldn’t say the word.

  “Do you know how the Berserker Units feed? They don’t stop, they don’t need to because all around them, in the killing fields, is conflict. They, in effect, are feeding constantly. Re-fuelling constantly so they can keep hacking away… century after century.”

  “That’s horrible.” Stephanie loved a good battle but she also enjoyed sitting around swapping tales with her Sisters.

  “Yes, it bloody well is. Even worse, being Berserker, they are almost impossible to kill. With strength and stamina almost double what a normal mated Knustabber Demon experiences. And thanks to the medical support teams, backed up by hundreds of security personnel keeping them in the hot-zone, unless a Berserker is killed outright, when they are seriously injured they are tranquilised, patched up and released back on to the killing fields. Again and again and again. My Uncle Flagstaff, one of the first to turn stabby, has been fighting for over six centuries.”

  “I…” Stephanie scooped up Galen’s trousers, throwing them at his head as she continued to pace agitatedly back and forth. “It sounds like a horrible existence. But you have alternatives… going through with the magical forced melding for one.”

  Galen yanked on his trousers and stood up, pushing back his hair. “I don’t think-”

  Stephanie stormed towards him, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You need to stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Thinking! You’re being overly dramatic. Yes, your long term prognosis is harrowing. But you do have other options open to you. Okay, fine, the timeline to find your mate is probably unrealistic. Luckily, you have a boatload of eager She-Demons ready and waiting to be your bride. And yes, yes, I know being magically melded won’t be great for you. But you’ll be alive. Still able to practise law, which you love.” Stephanie couldn’t imagine a world without Galen in it, he needed to say yes to her plan. There would be no killing.

  “Steph-” He wanted to explain how impossible that path for him was now that he had met her, connected to her, loved her.

  “Besides, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, for the duration. I know I’ve been an incredibly negative Nunalgathea, but I can help you narrow down your options. There are some beautiful She-Demons in the running for your hand. Savvy. Smart. They’d make great par
tners.” Grrr, that molten lead she’d swallowed was bubbling away merrily, feeling like it was eating away at her innards and strangely, her heart. “Not to mention excellent mother material for your future offspring.” Stephanie glared up at Galen, willing him to agree with her plan. He wasn’t turning Berserker. And no way was she going to kill him. The solution was obvious. If they worked together, they could definitely find him an acceptable bride and the Shamans could force a meld union. “What. Do. You. Say?” She punctuated each word by stabbing him in the chest with her finger.

  “Negative Nunalgathea?”

  “Everything’s always doom and gloom with her. Every spot on her sword is rust. Every creature she kills has twenty-four sons who are suddenly out for her blood. Every guy she boffs has a jealous wife and sister-wife who will swear vengeance out on her ass.”

  Galen captured Stephanie’s finger that was still relentlessly poking him in the chest, stilling it. “Wouldn’t want to be a Nunalgathea then, would I?”

  “No. Besides. That weird stuff we thought might be going on with your aunt? There’s definitely something there worth investigating.”

  “Yeah?” Funny, how just holding Stephanie’s finger like this quietened the turmoil in his head and gut. Just like last night’s session between the sheets had glutted and satisfied his inner Demon so much, that even despite the increased appetite that had been riding him for the last six months, it felt like he would never need to feed again.

  “Are you paying attention to me or staring down my top?”

  Galen’s ink dark gaze flared with heat. “Can’t I do both?”

  “In my experience, rarely.” She tugged her finger free and backed away, disliking how she suddenly felt weird without his touch, almost… bereft. Tamping down on that, Stephanie began pacing the room once more. “I found out some interesting things the night before last, from the Pake, that I thought you might like to know.”

  Galen hadn’t given up on convincing Stephanie to end his life. But he was willing to give her some breathing… thinking time. To let his request sink in. She did love killing things, and here he was offering her an easy target.

  Hmmm, perhaps that was the problem, being an easy target. Maybe if he came at this from a different angle, annoyed her into killing him? Or attacked her? Though he’d kind of attacked her at the party the first evening here, and she’d enjoyed that according to her.

  “Galen? Are you listening to me?”

  “Sorry, distracted.”

  “Head in game, eyes off my boobs.”

  Galen nodded, willing to let her think her breasts were the cause of his inattention. “Start from the beginning again.”

  Stephanie issued an irritated sigh, but secretly, she was pleased with Galen’s distraction. She didn’t court a male’s attention. Not unless she was trying to kill, annoy, or control him. But for some reason she wanted Galen’s liquid dark gaze on her, following her every move, full of heat and promises of more banging boots time. Sweet Freyja, hadn’t she had her fill last night? Obviously not.

  “Stephanie?”

  “Yes. As I was saying, Helfeg, the head of the Pake trade delegation, was telling me that they and the other trade parties have been in deadlocked talks for well over an Earth year now. All the parties have tried to walk away several times, but Laynn has been stalling, promising to rectify the stalemate within the next few weeks.”

  “Weeks? You think my forced meld wedding has something to do with this trade deal?”

  “The timing fits and listen, there’s more. That icky fish delicacy you were telling me about?”

  “Gellagh. Very rare. Very expensive.”

  “Except it’s not. Not rare anyway. There’s loads of it, according to Helfeg. The problem is in the catching and transportation. Very few of his kind want to do it because the stink of the fish gets into their feathers… and there was a whole lot of yada, yada after that about marital problems and banning Gellagh fisherpake from restaurants and concerts because of the reek.”

  “I’m surprised the trade delegation don’t just throw a heap of money at the problem.”

  “Yeah, I think historically they have been. Problem is, all the Pake are so wealthy now they don’t need more money. But that all changed the other night, after the Pake tasted mead for the first time. It seems they’ve finally come across something they would be willing to start farming Gellagh for again.”

  “Look at you.” Galen smiled with pride. “Solving other Realm problems with a simple drinks order. Clever Valkyrie.”

  “Thank you. But that won’t solve the other trading partner’s problems. The Bellan Swarm, according to Helfeg, are resisting mining any more piracha. They say their mountain region is becoming unstable. They have quadrupled the asking pricing for a ton. And the Idelski are refusing to pay such exorbitant prices.”

  “Have the Idelski run out of money? The war has been going on for centuries.”

  “They maintain their coffers are healthy. However, it seems they have begun to lose… faith in the Conflict Demons ability to keep the Morghdorn Horde at bay. Helfeg let slip the Idelski have been actively searching for new potential champions. And they have been demanding Laynn make several concessions regarding the management and staffing of the Front before they will agree to continue financing their share of the war effort.”

  “They must know how dangerous adding new personnel to the mix would be. Anyone on the battlefield is a possible target to a Berserker, friend or foe. Whoever takes up the Idelski cause would find themselves fighting on two fronts.”

  “Which has been your aunt’s argument. But it seems the Idelski are unhappy with the current status quo. They keep demanding a change be made and are seeking some kind of reassurance before they commit any further funding.”

  “Some kind of change on the Front? That’s obscure. Perhaps it really is just about the money for the Idelski.” Galen looked around their sumptuous suite and thought back over his exhaustive hike around the Palace yesterday. “Though, it doesn’t seem like we Conflict Demons are feeling the pinch. If anything, the Queen has reported that our finances are doing extremely well. Our low taxes are indicative of that alone.”

  “Wars can be weird. For some they are a bottomless drain on resources, manpower and money. For others, war means nothing but profit. Spending money, to make money if you will. The food producers, weapons manufacturers, the transport companies, and a multitude of other suppliers. Employment figures skyrocket because so much support staff is required. Even with your Berserker Units you mentioned a ton of medical staff, security and I’m guessing a load of military generals sitting well back behind enemy lines, overseeing the whole mess.”

  “I’d never thought about it before but the Western Front siege, it’s been rather good for our economy. Yet it’s a war we can never win or lose.”

  “What do this Horde want exactly? Land? Revenge? Riches?”

  “No one knows. They aren’t exactly known for their conversational skills. There is no reasoning with the Horde. They may not be skilled fighters but they are mighty in numbers, procreating hundreds of fresh troops every day. Throwing themselves at our borders relentlessly. Thanks to the Berserker Units, we’ve held the line steady for centuries now.”

  Stephanie frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of two sides that are so… equal over such an extended period of time. Warring, but never gaining or losing any ground.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that is unusual.”

  “Is there any footage of the fighting?”

  “Tons, I understand. Though, it’s incredibly tedious to watch. Lots of churned mud, blood and body parts flying. We can’t feed from media footage, so I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

  “Hmmm.” Stephanie would make some time to view that footage. “You know, this negates your aunt’s motive, in regards to forcing you to wed. If she doesn’t need a cash injection, why is she so interested in you and your condition?”

  “Ah, she explained all that
the other evening when she requested a private chat with me. It seems, despite my very vocal protests, there are many political movers and shakers at Court that deem me the most suitable heir to the throne in this current climate. I made it very clear to Laynn that I held no such aspirations, but as she said, perception is what matters most. Right at this moment in time, I am considered to be the best and strongest bloodline relative for the job if anything were to happen to her.”

  “So in effect, by making your marriage a political one, she’s securing her position. Everyone loves a royal wedding I suppose. And by doing this, controlling it all, it appears as if she supports and controls you.”

  “It would seem so. Yet I still don’t understand the personal time and effort Laynn has invested to ensure a simple wedding takes place. The parties? Having her Shamans search so desperately for me? Bringing me here, against my will, when we had a plan and an agreement in place?”

  “You know what else is curious? For such a political creature, your aunt hasn’t shown any favouritism towards any candidates. Surely, some, with particular family connections, would be deemed more advantageous than others?”

  “Yet she’s allowed me carte blanche when it comes to my choice of bride. Perhaps she has a mystery perfect candidate she intends to introduce at the last moment.”

  “A ringer waiting in the wings? Possibly.” Stephanie started to pace again, trying to burn off the uncomfortable heated churning that was roiling so heavily in her gut. “You know what gets me? The timing of all this. You developing Knustabber when you did. The ongoing trade stalemate, and Laynn’s recent promise to the delegation of an imminent resolution. The big question remains, how does you marrying resolve the trade talks? Yes, you are a Prince and the potential heir to the throne. But big deal-” Grrr, now those little sharp jabs were back along with the roiling in her gut. Maybe she was hungry. “…you marry. But how does that resolve the Idelski’s concerns, so they will return to coughing up big money to finance their share of the war?”

  Galen shrugged. “We need more information. Which we won’t get remaining here in our suite. But first.” Galen moved to intercept Stephanie, catching her hand in his. “We never did get around to defiling that sinfully large shower stall last night in all our endeavours.”