Dreams of a Dark Warrior (24 page)

“So I might not have documented my work with handy trophy pics, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve

put a
god
on ice two times before, and I’m keen to do it a third!”

A red film covered his eyes, and he roared,
“Trophy?”
He buzzed Vincente to come get her—before

he throttled her. “Get out of my sight.”

TWENTY

L
ate that night, once Declan final y slept, his body was restless, twisting in the sheets, his mind assailed by dreams. …

“What manner of creature are you?” Treves asked the woman before him.

He’d hoped they’d be enemies no more, and even now she was sidling closer to him.

“You do not remember me?” In his tent, her face proved even more radiant, her eyes and hair shining

like sun-struck amber.

“I have not met you, had never seen you before this morning.” Except in dreams. Yet as soon as he’d

heard her voice, he’d felt a stirring in his chest. “Are you a witch?”
One who’s bespelled me?

“No. Not a witch.” She removed her swords and cloak, revealing her strange garments—an armored

vest of stiffened leather over a fine linen blouse and a kirtle so short that her thighs were visible above her high boots. He swal owed. She had taut, smooth thighs made to cradle a man’s hips. Not that he

would know from experience.

“I am a Valkyrie, an immortal. One of Wóden’s cherished daughters.” She said these words as if they

should have some meaning to him. “Have you heard of us?”

“Only myths carried from the lands of the North.” He recal ed that the Valkyrie were a type of warrior

goddess.

This female expected him to believe she was one among them. And why shouldn’t he? What else could

explain her glowing skin and smal fangs, or the pink claws that tipped her delicate fingers?

He removed one gauntlet to run the backs of his fingers over her high cheekbones, his lids growing

heavy. Her skin was impossibly soft. With each touch he marveled that such a female was in his keeping.

My prize, and an earned one.

His forfeiture of that castle would enrage his king, who had steadily been losing patience with him.
I
might have a price on my head already.
No matter. As Treves gazed down at her, he knew she would

be worth any consequence.

And answering to another was a yoke that had never sat easily upon his shoulders anyway. He and his

king would come to terms over this.
Or I’ll pluck that crown from his head.

“You know that I am Treves. What is your name?”

“They cal me Regin the Radiant.”

“A fitting name,
belle
.” When he tucked a wild braid behind her ear, his eyes widened. The tip was
pointed
. “A Valkyrie’s ear?” He was captivated by this creature, now taking her hand and smoothing the backs of her little claws over his face. “Why do you seem so familiar?” And how could he feel half in love with her already? As if he’d fal on his sword should they be parted?

“We met, ages ago.” She seemed alternately sad and excited, brows drawn one instant, a breathless

smile blooming the next. “But if I tel you, you wil think me crazed.”

“No more than I, to have dreamed of a woman I’d never seen.” Ever since he’d come to this castle,

he’d been beset with dreams of her.

“In a past life, you were a berserker, a warrior in Wóden’s guard. You served my father.” She paused,

then added, “And you’d planned to wed me.”

Wed her? He drew even closer. “I do not know who you believe I am, but I wil gladly be this man.”

Her eyes searched his expression as she said, “You were cal ed Aidan the Fierce.”

Clearly her affections had already been claimed by this Aidan. “Why do you think me him?” She had

mistaken Treves for someone else.
I cannot surrender her.

I
wil
not.

“Your eyes glowed like a berserker’s. And I
sense
it’s you. The fact that you’ve dreamed of me

convinces me beyond doubt.” When he cast her a dubious look, she said, “You’ve been re-embodied,

your soul housed in another form.”

Could this be true? Could his soul have lived on from another time?

From his earliest memories, nightmares of angels and devils and biting snow had plagued him til he’d

thought he’d lose his mind. Always his chest had given him pain. His parents had feared that his aching

heart was weak, that he would die young. As a man, he’d warred to escape the turmoil within him—

placating his inward black thoughts with outward black deeds.

Now the ache had disappeared. Perhaps his heart had always been strong, yet it would beat for this

female alone. “How could I have returned?”

“When you died in my arms centuries ago, you vowed that you would come for me. I do not know how

you’ve done this. Sometimes we’re not meant to know al the things that are possible in the Lore.”

“The Lore?”

“It’s our world. A world of immortals, where myths and legends live.”

She is an immortal; I am not.
“You wil
not
return to this land, Valkyrie,” he commanded, his voice rough from the thought of losing her. “Your place is with me.”

Her face brightened even more. “Then remind me why I chose you above al other men.”

“I know not how to remind …” He trailed off when she began unraveling the ties to his armor, her

desires clear. He couldn’t rip off his chain mail and tunic quickly enough.

Yet even as his manhood swel ed in his trews, he had to admit, “
Cher,
I’ve never lain with a woman before.”

“You have.” She smiled, beginning to divest herself of her own clothing. “You just don’t remember yet.”

His gaze was riveted to her deft fingers unlacing that leather vest. She shrugged from it, then stepped

from her kirtle, leaving her garbed in only her blouse. It was so short he could nearly glimpse the juncture of her thighs—and so transparent he could clearly see her breasts.

He gaped at the ravishing sight before him, then swal owed audibly. “I’ve never wanted anything more

than you in my entire life.”
You are my life. Somehow I know this. …

She stood on her toes to press tender kisses to his neck, his chest. When she murmured, “Take off

your boots,” they were as good as gone.

“And your trews.”

He tore them off his body.

She backed toward his bed, curling her finger, beckoning him to fol ow.

After drawing off the blouse, she lay back like a radiant offering. So stunningly beautiful, she took his

breath away.

The first woman to grace his bed.
And the last.

Once he’d lowered himself beside her, she reached for his rampant shaft, cupping her fingers around

it. His hips bucked uncontrol ably to her silken touch, and a groan was wrenched from his lips.

She began fondling him with languid strokes that made him lightheaded. The pressure within his

manhood mounted as she rubbed her thumb over the crown, seeming to revel in the moisture there. “Ah,

cher,
I grow near—”

Without relinquishing her hold, she guided him to lie back. When she straddled his hips, he was

transfixed, scarcely comprehending that he was about to know her ful y.

She positioned his length beneath her, then began to lower her body upon it. With each of her panting

inhalations, her breasts rose and fel so temptingly. His hands covered that supple flesh, kneading with

delight.

Her tight sheath nearly robbed him of his seed. Gritting his teeth, he struggled not to shame himself.

She lowered herself as far as she could, her curling Valkyrie claws digging into his chest.

—
As they should.—

Was he going mad? The thought faded when she rose up and inched back down, her core damp and

quivering. Rising up. Slipping down.

—She needs me to master her, to overpower her strength.—

How could Treves know these things? Sensing them to be true, he seized her waist, forcing her to her

back. When he spread her thighs and seated himself deep between them, she moaned with pleasure, her

breasts bouncing as he began to thrust.

He dipped down to kiss her. As his mouth slanted over hers, her lips parted, her little tongue seeking.

With his first taste, dizziness swept over him.

“So sweet,” he groaned against her lips.
Like drugging poppies.

At once, memories overwhelmed him. Crimson spatter in snow. Being kept from her when he would

slaughter anything that separated them. His savage need to claim her.

He drew his head back, his gaze narrowed. “No one keeps me from you, Reginleit.” When he realized

his very accent had changed, his jaw slackened with shock.

I am this man she spoke of.

Which meant that she
belonged
to him. “Mine. Woman, you are
mine
.”

“A-Aidan?”

Blood surged within him as a frenzy took hold. “I have come for you.” Love for her pounded in his

chest, matching the fever of his need.

Her eyes went wide, the irises pure silver. “You’ve remembered me!”

“From the moment I took your lips.”

“H-how?” She arched beneath him. “How could you return?”

He didn’t know; as he drove into her body, it didn’t matter. “Nothing keeps me from you.
Nothing!
” He cupped her face, pul ing her up to him. “Tel me that you belong to me.”

“I belong to you.” Her claws sunk into his back as she gasped and writhed. “Ah, gods, I’ve missed you

so much!”

He felt her sex tightening around his shaft, knew she was about to climax.
I will take her over the edge,
will make her scream with abandon.

“Fol ow me!” she cried.

“Wherever you lead.”
Plunging into her madly, he did. …

Declan woke with his back bowed, his hand on his cock, precisely two quick pumps away from

spending.

“Regin!”
he bel owed when his seed erupted. He fucked his fist, imagining it was her tight little quim as lash after lash of scorching semen struck his torso. He yel ed until his voice went hoarse, until the

pressure final y ebbed. …

He was left gasping for breath, sprawled on his bed—with no pain, no anxiety, no strain. Only after-

shudders from the most powerful ejaculation he’d ever experienced.

He’d masturbated to a dream about a detrus and had come so hard, his spend had nearly reached his

chin.

I hadn’t
known
I could come so hard.

How had he lived without this for so long?

He groaned, wal owing in a kind of sick satisfaction. The guilt would arise soon enough, but for right

now, he lay stunned, his limbs boneless.

Sick.

What was happening to him? Just like the Treves she spoke of, Declan felt like he was going mad.

And, as in the dream, he’d begun having those stray thoughts, as if someone else was inside him.

In the end, Treves had been
taken over
by Aidan, the berserker’s memories overriding the knight’s, sublimating them.

The fuck that will be happenin’ to me.
No, this was an entrancement. Regin was a born kil er, an

unnatural, deathless female. Damn it, he didn’t feel this way about her.

Go run, go train. Go
kil
something.
But relaxation made his muscles lethargic, not with sleepiness, just

… ease.

Yet soon enough humiliation begun to burn within him. Here he was, nearly comatose with pleasure

after stroking off to one of them.

Where’s your iron will now, Dekko?
With a bitter curse, he forced himself to rise and wipe off his chest.
Stay away from her. Ignore her. Fight this—

His private line rang. Webb.

Just in time to make the humiliation and guilt complete. Declan crossed to his console, answered the

cal .

“You sound like hel , son. You losing your voice?”

There was something in Webb’s tone that immediately set him on edge. Paranoia gripped him yet

again. “No, sir.”
Just my mind.

Webb wasted no time. “I’ve received some disturbing reports about you and the Valkyrie.”

“No doubt from Fegley.” Though Vincente was privy to Declan’s dealings, he didn’t suspect the man for

even a moment.

“Perhaps it was. The fact remains that I’ve heard disconcerting things.”

“She delivers information to me,” Declan said. “Information
you
ordered me to get.”

“Then why haven’t any transcripts been uploaded?”

Because Declan needed to edit them first—so her pleas for him to kiss her never went on record.