Dreams of a Dark Warrior (31 page)

hel would.

“I’l catch up on some sleep now,” Declan told her, his eyes riveted to the case.

“You’l need to. Webb scheduled you for Slaine’s interrogation.”

“It hasn’t been done?” Perhaps his commander’s confidence wasn’t total y gone.

“Slaine was too injured from Fegley’s ham-handed capture. The subject’s been recovering for days.”

Declan had been at the capture, had seen the terrible power that demon had wielded. Though he’d

never admit it to another, Declan couldn’t have brought in Slaine uninjured either. “When is it scheduled?”

“Eighteen hundred. Gives you twelve hours to rest up.” She held up the case. “Your new, improved

formulation should help. As you ordered, it’s much stronger—you can go every other day at least.”

As soon as he had the case in hand, he parted his lips to dismiss her, but she merely said, “Get some

rest,” and left.

Alone, he turned the monitor back on, staring at the Valkyrie. What wouldn’t he give to sink down behind

her, draw her close, and sleep like the dead?

A dangerous thought. A nearly undeniable pul .
I’ll be taking my dose now, before I do something even
more stupid.

He opened the case, fil ed a syringe. His chest ached for something intangible; his vein swel ed

greedily. He gave in to at least that need, plunging his syringe.

Ah, fuck me, that’s strong.
Like the old days.

He col apsed back on the bed, the needle stil in his arm. Chemicals rushed through his brain, his

thoughts clouding. But his wasted mind remembered something he’d been too enraged to recal before.

Right before Declan had tried to kiss Regin, she’d told him she couldn’t do it. …

Blackness swal owed him.

When Regin awoke that morning, the grapevine had news. Chase had just come back from some

mission after disappearing for days.

And she didn’t know how she felt about his return.

Al week she’d been consumed by guilt, conflicted over her loyalties, pacing that cursed cel . Every time

she railed at herself for not kissing Chase, she would remember the excitement of being with him, the

pure sexual charge of his game. That night, for such a brief window, Regin had
liked
him.

Until Webb had crashed the party.

The man was obviously close to Chase, had cal ed him
son
. In turn, Chase had gazed at the man with clear respect.

But after Webb’s interruption, Chase had been disgusted with Regin and so ashamed of what he’d

done with her. She couldn’t stop recal ing the pain in his voice, the hurt in his blazing eyes.

Now she awaited her “examination,” knowing her time drew near. Chase had been enraged—he would

never stal for her.

Altered …

Every hour that passed was grueling. Natalya was regaling her with tales of old battles to keep her

distracted, but time pressed heavily on Regin. She was continual y lost in her own thoughts.

One spot of good news in this ordeal? Carrow had somehow survived Oblivion and lured her target,

Malkom Slaine, into the Order’s trap. On the day of his arrival, Regin had seen the vampiric demon—

arguably the biggest, meanest looking brute she’d ever beheld—dragged half-dead down the ward.

Yet after al the witch had risked to meet her end of the bargain and save Ruby, Chase had broken his

word; he hadn’t freed them.

And he’d cal ed the witches treacherous?
Bastard
.

But as far as Regin knew, Thad and MacRieve hadn’t been singled out again—

Gas hissed from above, clouds of it beginning to diffuse from the ceiling. Though she’d expected

exactly this at any second, Regin stared up in disbelief.

Natalya murmured, “I’m so sorry, Valkyrie.”

Regin shrieked with frustration, pounding the glass of her cel . She held her breath as long as she

could.
Fight it!

Vision growing hazy, lids so heavy …
Both she and Natalya col apsed to the floor.

When Regin woke, she was strapped to a table with bindings she couldn’t break. Her claws were like

razors, but she couldn’t wield them.

An IV snaked from Regin’s arm; electrodes covered her skin. She craned her head around, saw Dixon

and other scientists in white lab coats. In the corner, Fegley stood smirking.

Chase wasn’t here? Regin spied the camera above. Probably watching it from the comfort of his room.

She refused to give him the show he expected, wouldn’t scream or cry.

He’d once told her that she would beg for mercy, but she’d be damned before she did. She was

Reginleit the Radiant, an ageless daughter of gods.

“Shal we get started?” Dixon asked the others, her eyes glittering above her mask as if with

fascination. “We have
a lot
to cover in a short amount of time.”

Bone saws and scalpels were lined up on a table. When Regin saw the shining metal of a chest

cracker, her bravado faltered. She turned to the camera. “Chase, you have to remember me! You’l

regret the living hel out of this if you let it happen!”

One of the scientists casual y remarked, “Commander Webb has expressed a particular interest in this

one.”

Regin shrieked, “I’m going to eat Commander Webb’s heart!” Her stress made the lights flare. Al the

technicians hunched down, their eyes darting.

“Dr. Dixon, her pulse is two fifty and climbing.”

When Dixon raised a scalpel, Regin gazed at the camera. “I can withstand this, Chase. But can you?”

TWENTY-NINE

D
eclan woke to a pounding on his inner chamber door.

Vincente, no doubt.
He turned bleary eyes to the clock.
It cannot say half past five.
He’d slept almost twelve hours?

Dreamless hours in a deep black void.

He flushed with a queasy kind of shame to see the needle stil in his arm. Plucking it out, he eased to

his feet. Dizziness washed over him as he lurched toward the bathroom.

A single dose had rocked him.
Every other day at least.

More pounding on the door.

Declan yel ed, “I’l be there in a goddamned minute.”

In the bathroom, he stopped and stared at the countertop where he’d touched the Valkyrie. With

narrowed eyes, he recal ed her tel ing him, “I can’t do this.”

Hadn’t she pul ed back from him?

Yet even if she’d decided not to go through with her plan, how much of that night was real? He

wondered if she’d desired
him
or merely reacted to a man’s touch. She’d said she hadn’t been with a man in two centuries, but surely that had been one of her many lies. …

He faced the mirror, barely recognizing his reflec-tion. Pupils dilated, skin clammy. He turned away in

disgust, then stepped into the shower stal .

Under scalding water, he scrubbed his body, washing away al the traces of his hunt, of his twelve-hour

stupor. He rol ed his shoulders back, but couldn’t work out the tension knotting there.

When he hung his head under the spray, pressing his palms against the tile, his gaze fel on his track

marks.
As bad as I was in Belfast.
Declan hadn’t thought of himself as an addict since then, but now there was no denying it. He could shoot up for the rest of his life, chasing what he’d felt with the Valkyrie.

He’d tasted peace with her. Somehow, she was the key. To be denied her … ?

Christ, what did he even want from her? Having never been satisfied in this area of his life, he had no

idea what he needed. No target to aim for.

Al he knew was that he wanted
more
of Regin. More time with her, more contact …

More.

He’d waited his entire life for this, comprehended with perfect clarity that he’d waited for her.
I can’t go
back to an existence like before.
Grim. Soul ess. Strain.
I won’t.
He’d eat a bul et first.

Which meant he had to make a choice. He either accepted Regin as his, while accepting her nature

and what she was.

Or he ended himself.

He exhaled a long breath as he admitted the truth to himself—he
didn’t
see her as he did the rest. No longer. The Neo hunt had only crystal ized what he’d already wrestled with.

When Declan looked at her, he didn’t think of her as some vile detrus; he thought of her as … his.

He
could
accept her. He gazed down at the scars covering his body. Regin would never accept
him
.

You’ve come full circle now, Dekko. How ironic.

Hating those marks so bitterly, he threw back his head and bel owed with misery, slamming his fist into

the tile.
Want her so fuckin’ much.

The pain in his hand felt welcome. So he did it again and again til the tile cracked and shards piled

around his feet.

He raised his face to the spray.
Take her, escape this place.
He could
make
her love him. Somehow.

He’d had better odds. But then he’d come back from worse ones, too.

Turn his back on his duty? On Webb, the only friend he had in the world?

Slow down… just think this over.
Tonight, after he completed the interrogation, he would go running, giving himself a chance to contemplate everything. He’d cover the entire island if he had to, but he would make a decision.

He dried himself, then dressed in his fatigues, boots, and pul over. Last came the hated gloves. They

were too tight today, especial y over his bloodied right hand.

Everything felt confining, as if his skin itched. He loosened the strap on his watch. Ten minutes til six.

He stormed from the room, nearly leveling Vincente on his way out. As Declan strode down the

corridor, the man fol owed.

“Magister Chase, I’ve been knocking and cal ing for hours.”

“Not now.” He spied Webb waiting at the door of the interrogation room.

“This is urgent—”

“Right on time, as usual, son,” Webb said, before immediately dismissing Vincente. “That wil be al .”

The guard left with a cryptic glance at Declan.

“We’ve heard good things about your hunt,” Webb continued. “A pristine job, and back early, too.”

Declan had always soaked up the man’s praise. Now guilt surfaced.
I’m thinking of betraying him?
The man who’d given him a home, a job, purpose. “Thank you, sir.”

“We have high hopes for Slaine’s questioning. Don’t let me down.”

“No, sir.”

Webb slapped him on the back.

As Declan entered the interrogation room, he was struck anew by the massive size of the creature, by

its vampire fangs and demon horns. No, Regin didn’t look like a monster or a murderer, but this large

male did.

“Why have you taken me?” the demon demanded in thickly accented English, renewing his efforts to

get free.

“Al in good time, Slaine.” Declan felt sweat beading his upper lip. Christ, that hit was stil roiling in him, and he hadn’t eaten al day. His hands shook. Would Slaine notice?

Dixon entered then, ready to col ect samples from the demon.

“His blood’s been drawn,” Declan told her. “The second your lab’s done, you’l destroy it.” If a mortal

drank that blood …

“But his orders—”

“Destroy it!”

She nodded, but she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Paranoia flared again.

Once Dixon col ected the vials and left, Slaine said, “What do you want with me?”

“There’s much interest in you. In your
genesis
. Today, you’re going to tel me al about it. And tomorrow, my physicians wil examine you, to see what makes you faster, stronger.”

“So you can make more like me?”

“So we can make sure your kind is never miscreated again.”

“Maybe you should just … cry?” Natalya said as she sat on the edge of Regin’s bunk.

Regin lay on her side, curled up as much as the ghastly wound al ow. Under her shirt, pasty skin had

swel ed up around an angry line of seeping staples. Her skin was dim al over. “Leave me alone,” she

said in a deadened tone. With effort, she turned to her other side away from the fey.

Ignore the metal wire holding your ribs together, ignore the staples in your skin.

Natalya was undeterred, actual y beginning to stroke her hair. “Crying can be therapeutic. Or so I’m

told. Never have done it myself. But I do know the pain wil fade soon.”

Regin wasn’t afflicted only with physical pain—though that had been worse than any she’d ever known;

humiliation seethed inside her as wel . For her entire adult life, she’d been a creature with which one didn’t fuck. Now she was defeated, and at the hands of a man who should’ve defended her.

How the demons and vampires in the ward had gloated!