by Jane Cousins
Stephanie’s heart began to race and warm tingly shivers travelled up and down her spine as Galen’s other hand wrapped around the back of her neck. His head began to lower, his eyes on her lips. Nope, no more kissing. Although she was certainly up for some sudsy fun shower time. Ducking Galen’s lips, she reached out, grabbing him by the waistband of his loosely done up trousers and began pulling him towards the bathroom. Sex, food and then they would go on the hunt for more information. Together.
There would be no more talk of killing Galen, or him turning stabby.
Some way, some how, Stephanie intended to sort out this mess so that Galen could remain hale and hearty. Even if that meant finding him a gorgeous Demoness to wed. One no doubt who would have a very fragile - temptingly snappable - neck.
Hmmm, more and more she was beginning to think she would be required to kick the entire Palace Guards’ butts along with the one belonging to the snooty Queen to find out what was going on. An idea she was perfectly fine with. In fact, bring on the violence. First though, the hot, steamy, shower sex. Best way to save water was to share with a buddy. And Stephanie was all about the environment… and sex… and killing of course.
Chapter Seventeen
Galen stared sightlessly at the paperwork in his hand. He didn’t like that Stephanie was currently wandering around the Palace, in search of information that would help them figure out what plan his aunt had in play. He wanted to be out there too. Watching her back. Unfortunately, it had become abundantly clear in the dining room this morning, as they ate breakfast, that every occupant in the Palace was weirdly fascinated and somewhat fearful of Galen now.
What happened on the beach yesterday had titillated and fed his conflict hungry brethren. They couldn’t help but gather and loiter, wondering if more lovely waves of violent conflict might be in the offing if they remained in his vicinity.
At the same time, they were tense and worried. From the whispered rumours they’d managed to overhear, the word going around the Queen’s Court was that Galen might be contagious. Which was impossible. Yet no better explanation was on offer. Given the Guard Captain categorically stated the underling who had spontaneously gone stabby had no medical history in regards to displaying any unmated Knustabber symptoms.
Which was unheard of, until now.
Grrr, throwing the file aside, Galen shifted his attention to the perfectly made bed. Housekeeping had cleaned and aired the suite while they’d been at breakfast, erasing all signs of the night he and Stephanie has shared. As if it had never been. That seriously annoyed him.
He should have been plotting his own demise but all he could do was keep re-playing all the hot and heavy moments from last night, and let’s not forget this morning in the shower. It was making him wildly horny. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about how wonderfully responsive Stephanie was as a lover. Demanding. Playful. Strong. Fun. Passionate. Tireless. A perfect match for him.
Hmmm, but he kept coming back to the way she had deliberately ducked her head away from him this morning, when he tried to kiss her. Which got him thinking about the number of times she’d distracted him throughout their long night together, avoiding his lips time and time again.
Stephanie wasn’t averse to kissing. They’d locked lips when she’d been sitting on his lap buck naked back at the cavern. Lucifer, what a potent kiss that had been.
They’d kissed again the other evening, on the balcony. In fact, that kiss jump-started his brain, essentially snapping him awake. Bringing him back to himself. How? Or should that be, why?
Because there had been something about that kiss his inner Demon hadn’t liked. No, something had been missing. Missing?
Drumming his fingers absently, Galen pushed aside his own feelings and carefully reviewed his memories of the events that took place on the balcony when he’d all but lost control of himself. Everything Stephanie had told him was true. She had willingly allowed him to sweep her up into his arms and carry her off into the night. Clinging to him rather enthusiastically as he recalled.
When he’d been tearing off her clothes, now that he thought about it, there had been nothing but wanton eagerness shining in her blue gaze. They’d been going at it hot and heavy, she’d reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him. Yes, Stephanie had been the one to initiate the kiss.
There was no denying that it had been a good… great kiss, full of passion, and need… so, what, in the name of the Fiery Pits, did his inner Demon think had been missing? He couldn’t believe it would be so prissy, but he couldn’t help but think his inner Demon had been protesting the lack of love. Oh, it was totally on board with the banging of boots, but that kiss, without Stephanie’s claim infusing it, just highlighted their frustrating disconnect. It had severely grated, jarring him from their hedonistic dalliance.
Stephanie hadn’t kissed him again since that night on the balcony. Perhaps she’d just been caught up in the moment, and after doing so… realised that she’d gone too far. Sex with a Conflict Demon was one thing, but she, being brutally honest, wouldn’t want to lead him on.
By not kissing him, was she already consciously uncoupling from him? Trying to tell him without words what he already knew. He was a casual hook-up to her, nothing more.
He should just be satisfied with whatever crumbs she was willingly to give him. Though he never thought he’d see the day when fantastic sex had become the equivalent of table scraps.
Because he craved all of Stephanie, her heart, her love… her claim on him. Without that, though the sex was stupendous and physically satisfying, on an emotional level, it left him feeling strangely hollow.
Damn, now he understood all the women throughout the centuries who has accused him of being emotionally unavailable and holding a piece of himself back. Oh, how the mighty - thinks he’s all that lover - had fallen on his own sword… or should that be cock?
Yeah, let’s not go with that metaphor.
It was perhaps only fair that he have this startling self-realisation, given his days on this Realm were numbered. He’d been a self-indulgent, selfish prick. Thinking that because he satisfied the women he took to his bed sexually, that that should have been enough for them. He’d never made them any promises. Given any indication that he was up for any kind of commitment. Although he had kissed them, carelessly, thoughtlessly, one and all.
And kisses, as he had finally come to learn, were on a whole other level than sex.
Sex was a physical need that could be easily met. A kiss? That was… more internalised, involving head and heart. Making a deliberate choice to be vulnerable, to close your eyes, and completely trust your partner in that shared moment. A pledge. A vow. And Stephanie would not want to mislead Galen. Without words she was letting him know loud and clear, she would never claim him.
Intellectually he had known that truth for a while now. Though perhaps a small, infinitesimal part of him had been hoping that when he asked her to kill him, that she would make some declaration. Give him some sign of hope for… them.
Yes, she had refused his request, which should have been a positive. Except then she’d blithely offered to get serious about helping him choose the least offensive non-soul mate bride on offer. Not just a negative. It was a gold boot to the groin in regards to any last shred of hope that she would ever claim him.
Lord Lucifer, what in the name of the Nine Circles, was he going to do? Turn stabby, or die by his own machinations? They were two opposing options. Both equally abhorrent. Either way he was dead, gone. Mentally, if he turned Berserker. Physically, if he engineered his own death.
And that was the problem with his second option. He wouldn’t… couldn’t take the final step himself. Every instinct he had screamed that he’d fight back if he attempted suicide by attacking the Palace Guards.
His Valkyrie had made her opinion very clear… though if he annoyed her enough? No. She’d been appalled by his request and he would not use her and leave her to bear the brunt of remorse.
S
o what avenues did that leave open to him? Hmmm. He’d heard the only useful thing his Cousin Welst did was train for two hours daily in his Salle. Perfecting his duelling technique.
Oh, yes, he really liked the idea of facing his cousin in challenge combat. Killing him. Hey, no, that wasn’t the plan. Letting his cousin kill him? Grrrr. No, somehow he doubted his inner Demon would be okay with allowing that to happen.
But what if… what if he could fight Welst to a mutual death?
Yes. His inner Demon whilst not enthusiastic was more accepting of that idea. Galen even had the perfect excuse to challenge Welst. The throne. The right to be declared the acknowledged Heir apparent.
He should track down the dickhead right now, get this over and done with… but, hell, he wanted just a little more time with Stephanie. Working side by side with her to unravel the mystery of what was going on with his aunt. More importantly, the sex. He just wanted another night… or two or three, of touching, teasing and tasting his Valkyrie. Pretending for just a little longer that he had his whole life in front of him to win her claim.
Damn, he had it bad for the Valkyrie. Yet he acknowledged that he was a lucky bastard to have even met Stephanie. To have caught a tiny glimpse of how good it could have been between them. It was perhaps more than he could have hoped for, given he was caught between a rock and a berserker stabby place.
* * *
Stephanie jogged in place, lifting her knees high, working to get a sweat up. Glancing down she double checked her ammunition was locked and loaded. Excellent, sweat glistened across her cleavage and the hot pink, tiny sports bra she’d magic’d up ten minutes ago, was working overtime to keep her bodacious rack to a minimal, but still highly visible bounce. Her black running shorts clung to her ass like they’d been painted on. For a touch of whimsy, she magic’d out the black running shoes for ones that matched her bright pink top.
Reaching up, she tugged at her ponytail, making sure it was high and tight. She was ready. Time to get this show on the road. Jogging around the corner she ducked into what the Palace servants referred to as the Salle. The room where Prince Welst practised perfecting his talent with various sharp swords and an array of other pointy weapons.
It seems Wanker fancied himself a master swordsman. More than one female staff member had shared that information with Stephanie, wrinkling their nose in distaste unconsciously. She could only guess that Wanker used that title to intimate that he was a master of sword play in the boudoir as well. Such a wannabe.
Being intentionally loud, announcing her approach, it wasn’t a surprise to find Welst posing, reclining on a green satin bench, his legs outstretched and casually crossed. The room, and its occupant, had an air of renaissance France about them. The walls covered with elaborate green and gold flecked wallpaper. Large ceiling to floor mirrors hung around the room so Welst could check his form from multiple angles. Overhead, three massive chandeliers sparkled and glittered.
Stephanie felt like she’d stumbled into a play for the Three Musketeers, but the only one dressed to suit the room was Welst. He wore skin tight, dark brown trousers. Matching knee-high leather boots. And an old fashioned dark blue doublet, fitted, so that it drew attention to his broad chest, and muscular physique.
With the three suns streaming blue and green light into the Salle through two large open balcony doors, back lighting Welst, Stephanie had to give him props for staging the scene to his advantage. He looked liked leading man material. Then her sharp eyes noted the subtle shoulder, and if she wasn’t mistaken, chest padding in the doublet. And those boots might look normal but it was clear that hidden lifts had been added.
Honestly, if the Demon didn’t want to come off second best when it came to Galen, then he should stop cutting his hair like his cousin and cease trying to copy his brooding scowl. The one Galen did so effortlessly, but on Welst? It looked like the Demon was suffering from the first stages of food poisoning.
“Hi.” Stephanie bounced over like her legs were springs. Coming to a stop in front of Welst she continued to jog in place. “Hope you don’t mind. I can’t stop moving, if I cool down too quickly I get cramps.”
“Um, sure.” Welst forgot to brood as his gaze locked on Stephanie’s bouncing bosom. “I’m surprised my cousin let you off that tight leash he has you on.” Welst was all sullen and sour. He’d had definite plans for the blonde bimbo that had been blown out of the water when Galen had so forcefully swept her up into his arms the other evening, with clear sexual intent. But not before embarrassing Welst, smashing him aside like he was some irritating bug. “You know he’s just using you, right?”
“Who?” Stephanie kept on bouncing, hiding her amusement at the way Welst’s eyes flicked up and down in their sockets, following suit.
“My cousin… he’s just using you for sex.”
“Well, yes. He made that very clear in the job interview. You have no idea how rigorous the hiring process was. He’s a very demanding boss in every way. It’s all spelled out in my job description.”
Welst’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and he glanced up to see the blonde looking nothing but serious, as she finally ceased jogging in place and began stretching. Immediately Welst’s attention dropped to her cleavage as she bent forward and began touching her toes. “You… having sex with Galen, is listed under your official duties?”
“I’m a personal secretary; I attend to all his needs.”
“That’s… that’s not right.” The lucky bastard.
“It’s not?” Stephanie straightened and began side stretches, making sure to pull her shoulders back. Discreetly biting her tongue to keep from howling with laughter. She really shouldn’t be teasing Welst but honestly… the Demon took himself way too seriously. Plus, his gloating over Galen’s situation? it annoyed her. “But I really don’t mind. Galen is very good in that department… if you know what I mean?” She blinked wide, earnest blue eyes Welst’s way. “He’s young, really fit and way hot. I could do a lot worse when it comes to a boss.”
“You could come work for me.” Welst really liked the idea of having this gorgeous simpleton at his beck and call. He watched as she lifted her right leg straight up, her calf resting against her ear. Bloody hell, she was flexible. “I’ll double your salary.” He watched as she swapped legs. Damn. “Triple it.” She turned, presenting him with one delectable ripe ass as she settled into the downward dog pose. “Plus I’ll include a clothing allowance.” Though preferably she wouldn’t be wearing much of anything in his company.
Stephanie stood upright, rolling her shoulders and neck slowly. “That’s a really good offer… but leave Galen?” Whoa, she had a strange physical reaction to saying those last three words, her gut tightening painfully.
“You haven’t been foolish enough to fall in love with him, have you?”
“What? No!” Oops, that came out a little sharper than she intended… and sounded just a tad defensive, as if she might actually be carrying a torch for Galen. Which she wasn’t.
More worrisome, even self-absorbed Welst seemed to think perhaps she wasn’t telling the truth. “Coz we Conflict Demons, we really don’t commit outside our own species. Well, except for a couple of my third cousins who married Rage Demons. Oh, and my Uncle married a Vulcan minor deity. Okay, so occasionally we do, but usually those mates are all rage, anger, destruction and death. But you and Galen? I’m just not seeing it.”
Grrr, she could totally be about rage, anger, destruction and death. Just hold still Prince Wanker whilst she called her hatchets. Watching his head bounce across the floor would totally mean she’d won this argument.
Heavens, why was she letting what Welst was saying get to her? This had started out as a joke but suddenly the shift in conversation was making her feel… uncomfortable.
“Galen’s a superior bastard, thinks he’s all that. And you’re so innocent and trusting.”
Damn, this guy really was a self-absorbed moron. Stephanie forced what she hoped was a sweet smile, but
jiggled in place just in case she got it wrong. Sweet wasn’t really in her repertoire. Thankfully Welst’s attention immediately dropped to her double d’s. “That’s really nice of you to say. But there’s nothing between Galen and me but work… and sex… just sex… no emotions.”
“Poor kid. You don’t see it, do you? The way you talk about him? How protective you are of him? You’ve clearly fallen head over heels for the bastard.”
It was like being hit by Thelda’s war hammer. Love? Stephanie felt dazed and confused. She did like Galen. Was mightily impressed with his stamina and skills in the bedroom. Found him surprisingly funny. Even when he got scowly and growly, and attempted to order her about, that just kind of revved her engine. And yes, it annoyed her when he was all thoughtful; feeding her, seeing to her comfort, tending her injuries… but it also kind of made her feel weirdly warm and fuzzy deep down inside.
She… no, she couldn’t be in… love. She was a gold boot stomping, twirling hatchets, taking off heads where she liked, kind of Valkyrie. She was a battle hardened warrior. Who fought hard, drank harder and satisfied her sexual urges with the nearest likely – didn’t look as if he would break too easily - candidate. She didn’t do commitment. Unless it was to her Valkyrie Sisters and the battle at hand.
But… Goddess and Creator, she’d had several opportunities to bust out of this Realm, and she hadn’t taken them. Sure, she’d given her word to Galen, that she would help him find his mate or a suitable bride to be melded with by the Shamans. Though she’d had her fingers crossed at the time, since she’d only offered to help so they could bang boots. A goal she’d achieved many times over last night.
Yet the idea of leaving him, to deal with this situation alone, it was abhorrent. Because she kept her promises, not because she loved him… because she didn’t, did she?