Dreams of a Dark Warrior (18 page)

fire in her vein. Sweat broke out on her face. Every muscle in her body began to knot.

She gritted out, “When I escape—”

“Valkyrie, no one has
ever
escaped this island.”

“Nothing but a rol cal … of dead immortals?”

“Precisely. Now, tel me what language you speak to your cel mate.”

“Immortalian. No? Immoratlivan. Immortinian!”

“Do you
want
me to hurt you?” Another bead inched down the line.

“I want you to go fuck yourself!” she bit out just before it hit.

Her back bowed, her sharpened claws slicing into her palms as she fought the urge to shriek. Lights

flared and thunder rocked the building.

Blood trickled from her nose. She tasted more in her mouth.

If he does it again, then my decision’s settled.

“I’m told the effect is cumulative—it wil continue to worsen.” Though outwardly calm as he explained

this, his face had paled even more. “But if you tel me about the Valkyrie’s weaknesses, I’l administer the antidote.”

“Weaknesses? So many. Foremost, we’re … ticklish.”

A third bead dripped down.

“You’l pay!” The pain was blistering, like acid eating away at her from the inside. She threw back her

head and shrieked as her body seized. Her arms wrenched violently against her restraints.

Pop.
Her shoulder dislocated. Light bulbs shattered above them.

Going to kill him. Going to do the deed myself!
When she’d final y endured that wave and faced him once more, her vision was blurred by a film of blood. Dots of crimson had begun to seep from her pores.

He narrowed his eyes. “Your glowing has lessened. Is it emotion-based?”

She spat, giving him a slow, bloody grin. “This wil hurt you … more than it ever hurts me.”
Must make
him remember.

“And again, you act as if we’ve met.”

“I did know you,” she said. “Long before al this. Don’t you remember me?”

Like a shot, he was on his feet and around the table, his hand gripping her throat. He squeezed her

windpipe as he demanded, “Were you there that night?”

She gasped, “Wh-where?”

“Were—you—there?”

“Aidan or not … I am going to serve it to you!” Her leg shot up to punt his groin, but he deflected her

kick with his other hand.

“What did you cal me?” His grip tightened.

She wheezed in a breath. “Prick!” What night was Chase talking about? She couldn’t think!

Squeezing harder, harder. “Why did you cal me Aidan?”

Losing consciousness. Heart pounding wildly. “Want to know? Bring me … to your office tomorrow.

Just you and me. I’l tel you . …
everything
.”

When her head slumped forward and her glowing dimmed even more, Declan left her in the room,

barreling to his quarters.

He just reached the toilet before vomiting the contents of his stomach. After heaving over and over, he

eventual y lurched to his feet. Hands gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, he waited for his balance to return. For his control to return.
What is happening to me?

Administering that poison had affected him nearly as much as her. Though he’d done the same to

hundreds of other prisoners.

When he’d tortured Lothaire yesterday, he’d regretted ending the session, wishing there’d been more

flesh left to torment.

After Regin, Declan felt like
he’d
been tortured.

And she’d cal ed him Aidan. As had the berserker. If they’d intended to make him paranoid …

It’s bloody working.

Staring into the mirror, he muttered, “I fuckin’ hate her.” Yet he stil felt that pul toward her.

Even as I was ready to squeeze the life out of her.

A mortal hunter and his immortal prey.
But then, perhaps I’m not quite mortal.
He shuddered.

She wanted to meet with him in his office? What was she planning? They were
always
planning

something, living and breathing deceit.

He removed his gloves, then scrubbed his face with two handfuls of water.

To do as she asked was madness, but he needed the answers he’d promised Webb. And Declan knew

he wouldn’t be able to torture her again.

Why not try meeting her? Having a female prisoner alone in his office would raise some eyebrows, but

Declan couldn’t care less about that. No one would dare naysay him in his own instal ation.

I need to know why she called me that name.

After rinsing his mouth, he staggered into his room, sinking into his chair at the console. He pul ed up

the Valkyrie’s cel on the screen.

Vincente and another guard were just returning her, wearing thick gloves because the poison seeping

from her skin was lethal to mortals. Vincente laid her on the floor with more care than the other guard

would have.

The Valkyrie’s body convulsed with each wave of pain, her glow nearly extinguished.

Declan should be observing her impassively. Instead, bile rose in his throat.

As soon as Vincente closed the cel , the male halfling yanked off his shirt to wipe the blood from her.

The fey knocked his hand away before he touched Regin’s skin and got himself poisoned. Then she

punched the Valkyrie’s shoulder directly below the joint, forcing the bal back into the socket.

Before Regin passed out, she whispered something to Natalya in that unknown tongue, the maddening

language he couldn’t even identify.

Whatever Regin said made the fey appear
relieved
. Declan had just put his head in his hands and

started to squeeze when he received a screen message from Webb:

Let me know how your session with the Valkyrie

went. Productive, I'm sure. Update: information

about their weaknesses takes precedence over

al other inquiries, i.e., her source of energy or the vampire’s ring. …

Then Declan’s path was fixed.

FOURTEEN

A
gain,
Valkyrie?” Carrow the witch said as Vincente escorted Regin once more.

When the guard had shown up to cuff and retrieve her and she hadn’t been gassed first, she’d known.

Chase had taken the bait.

“What can I say, Carrow? The magister loves my company.”

In an urgent murmur, the witch said, “I saw how you fared his
company
yesterday. Maybe attempt
not
to enrage him tonight?”

On it.
“I go with a peace offering. Check it”—Regin leered down at her own chest—“I’m braless.”

Carrow shook her head. “Crazy ass Valkyries.”

When they passed Brandr’s cel , Regin told him in Old Norse, “My time here grows nigh.” Though her

attitude was confident, she knew several factors would work against her.

First, she wasn’t a golden-tongued and persuasive Valkyrie; in fact, she was considered just the

opposite—abrasive and smart-assed.

Second, she didn’t do subterfuge, preferring to be brutal y honest at al times.

Third, she had earned a reputation for flying off the handle with little provocation.
Justly
earned. Her emotions were notoriously volatile.

Yet now she would have to pretend to be attracted to a man who’d mercilessly tormented her? Instead

of giving in to her need to play-dress him in his own intestines?

One move open to her. “
His
time grows nigh as wel .”

Brandr was at the glass in a heartbeat. His light green eyes were bloodshot, his handsome face wan.

Chase must’ve worked him over too. Stil Brandr said, “Regin, don’t do it! I’l warn him.”

For al that she and Brandr had never gotten along, she couldn’t fault his loyalty. “Stay out of my way, or you break your vow. …” She trailed off. Were those
staples
peeking out just above his shirt col ar?

Dear gods, Chase had ordered Brandr’s vivisection? If he’d do it to his one-time best friend, he’d do it

to her.

When she and Vincente reached the hub connecting two other wards, the guard squired her into one

fil ed with offices and labs, al empty this late. They fol owed it to the end, then entered a dark-paneled office.

Chase was already there, seated behind a large desk. He wore his uniform as usual, his dress

immaculate. She could even scent boot polish. His hair was off his face again, and he wasn’t as pale as

usual.
Nice lips,
she realized with a start.

“Lemme guess,” Regin said. “You had your introductory spiel al planned, but rational thought deserted

you when you saw me strol in braless.”

Chase’s angry gaze raked over her breasts. They were pressing against her tight T-shirt even more

than usual since her arms were bound behind her back.

“Leave us, Vincente,” he commanded.

Without any expression, the man did.

“For the record,” she continued, “it’s not my fault I came in here looking like Chesty LaRue. You caught

me on laundry day, so I have no undergarments on. Though I wil cop to a little extra spring in my step for your benefit.”

He subtly adjusted his legs behind his desk. Hard-on. Zing!
Regin one; Chase zero.

Yet his resentment only seemed to increase.

She didn’t know when Chase might summon her again—if ever—so she had to make this one chance

count. To rekindle his memories, she needed either to coax him to kiss her or to provoke the berserker

inside him.

Sex or protracted violence should do it.

“Yeah, weirdly, our cel doesn’t have laundry facilities. So I figure I’l wash undies at one time and

outerwear at another, always keeping some cover for the cameras. I’m not shy, but frankly, I’ve had my

limit of men chubbing themselves to videos of me. It’s moved from simple idolatry to something more

sinister.” She sauntered over to his desk, hopping atop it, sitting on his papers. “A little too
Caged Heat,
you know?” Those angry eyes were rapt on her bouncing breasts.

Between gritted teeth, he ordered her, “Remove yourself from my desk, Valkyrie.”

“Fine, huffy.” She hopped down and began exploring his office. He said nothing, merely restacked his

papers as he observed her.

The décor was modern and posh. Aside from the large mahogany desk and matching floor-to-ceiling

bookshelves, he had a luxe leather couch and chairs. Office cabinets had been built into the wal s. Two

enormous windows revealed a temperate forest shadowed by night. Only so many places in the world

where trees like that grew. …

Yet there were no pictures or decorations. The bookshelves were empty.

She turned to him. “I’m just relieved
you
weren’t one of the men going fap-fap-fap to my vid. Or
were
you?” she asked with a stage wink, but his demeanor remained frosty. “So, what’s with the gloves? The

rumors say you don’t like to touch others, or be touched. Care to comment?” She settled on the couch,

drawing one knee up to her chest. “I wonder how you have sex. Or maybe you don’t.”

He’d turned off his anger, his interest, everything. A light extinguished. “You know nothing about me.”

“The Blademan’s blade is sheathed, huh?” She gave him a slow grin. “I vow to you that I know you

better than you know yourself.”

“So you keep saying.”

Survival time, Regin.
She took a steadying breath.
Aidan would want me to live.

Besides, she didn’t have any choice. Lucia needed her help; Regin needed to survive. Yet stil she had

difficulty with this plan. Centuries of secret hopes and waiting warred with the need to save Lucia—and

herself.

Valkyrie won. “Yeah. A long time ago you were cal ed Aidan the Fierce. I’ve known you for over a

thousand years.”

The tension in him eased somewhat. “And yet I’m not even forty.”

“You reincarnate. A lot.”

“Reincarnate. And often, too? Now, this sounds interesting,” he said with a sneer. “How many times

would this make it?”

“This is the fourth time that I know of.”

“Do I look the same?” He was clearly toying with her.

“Your eyes are the same, but the rest of you is always different. I can recognize you, and you always

sense I’m familiar. Even now on some level you do, don’t you? Our little torture session probably hurt you just as much as me.”

“You’re insane,” he said easily,
confidently
.

“I vow to the Lore that I’m tel ing the truth. You know I’m bound by that vow.”

“Only when it’s made to another of the Lore.”

His darkening expression warned her she was on thin ice. Of course, when had that ever stopped her?

“I know you don’t want to believe you have
anything
in common with me. But you
are
of the Lore.” She heard his leather gloves clenching beneath the table, knew he was probably envisioning strangling her.