Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Immortals After Dark #11)(41)
Author: Kresley Cole

"I think you could be all of them," she said. "But right now, you’re Aidan’s dark obsession. You’re drowning, Chase, and deep down, you know I’m your lifeline."

He steepled his fingers. "I find it interesting that you tell of a man who turned his back on everything he’d worked for. A knight who ended a siege for a woman. Then on the heels of that you advise me not to run this instal ation?"

"I just recounted what happened with Treves. Besides, he was by no means the king’s lapdog-he’d questioned his ruler’s actions from the beginning and had stood up to him before. There was talk that Treves could seize the throne whenever he felt like it."

Which was why Philip had already had an assassin waiting in the wings. When Treves had disobeyed Philip’s command to take the castle, the king had ordered him poisoned.

For choosing me over a victory, Treves had paid with his life. …

The Valkyrie’s gaze grew distant, her eyes flickering color. When she faced him once more, she said, "Lemme ask you, Magister-have you ever stood up to your boss before?"

Earlier he’d suspected that this tale was all part of a setup, serving her agenda. Now she’d just confirmed his suspicion.

While Declan had been relaxing his guard with her, she’d been working him over, every word she’d spoken careful y chosen. "If I don’t act like your knight, then I’m a lapdog?" In a disgusted tone, he said, "Perhaps I should betray everything I’ve ever known for you?"

"I could make you happier than the Order does." So sure of herself.

"I’m not in this for happiness, Valkyrie. And I don’t question commands, because I believe in the objective-protecting humankind. My kind."

"I think you want to leave all this behind to be with me. Chase, I’m only waiting on you."

"Abandon my mission? Never, Valkyrie! Who would do this work if not for me?" His gloved hands fisted. No one had ever infuriated him like she did! He was supposed to be emotionless by nature. He injected those numbing concoctions every night. So why were these rages still taking him over?

Without thought, he stormed to his filing cabinet, yanking out a worn file of pictures-photos of the casualties in this war. If he ever doubted his purpose or resented the pain in his battle-worn body, he brought out this folder. Nothing could solidify his resolve more effectively.

He wanted to show her what he fought against, and to observe her reaction. To see for myself that she won’t even blink.

"If it wasn’t for me, then the pack of viper shifters that hit this orphanage"-he tossed a set of four photos onto the desk-"would still be targeting easy prey." The graphic pictures depicted the bodies of children and nuns, swol en and fed upon. "They’d been dragged from their beds in the middle of the night, then envenomed until paralyzed. They couldn’t even scream."

She peered down at them, her lips thinned.

"Or how about this?" He flung another picture in front of her. This one showed mauled Wendigo victims with their limbs ripped apart, their bones cracked open. "The Wendigos had sucked out the marrow while their prey was still alive. I destroyed every single one in that pack. Even the humans who’d been transformed into their kind."

As if she sensed she’d do well not to say anything, the Valkyrie remained silent.

The next set of pictures made him rock on his feet; his mother and father tied up on the floor, their flesh consumed to the bone. Their expressions frozen in terror forever. "What about the Neoptera?" he demanded, his voice ragged. "I’ve eradicated dozens of them during my twenty years with the Order."

For some reason, he shoved the picture of his parents in front of her.

And, damn her, her eyes flickered with sympathy. He slammed his fist down on the desk, bel owing, "Don’t you f**kin’ dare feel sympathy for them! They were mere mortals, beneath your notice!"

"Of course I feel sympathy!" She shot to her feet, bristling. "That’s why I’ve kil ed as many of those creatures as I’ve come across! You’re locking up immortals who would be your all ies-"

"Al y with you? You’re indolent. Your own sister said that all you do is fight needlessly and get high."

They were toe-to-toe.

"Oh, you’re one to talk about getting high, Major Tom! You’re flying out of this atmosphere most days."

He ignored that. "You serve no purpose, have no reason to exist."

Again that flash of hurt shone in her eyes. "I have a purpose, you ass**le! Ever heard of Cruach, the god of human sacrifice and cannibalism? Every five hundred years, he rises, bent on turning all of humanity into maddened cannibal kil ers. Alongside my sister, I fight him. Me! I’ve faced him twice before.

Only this time, he’s going viral. We’re talking apocalypse."

Declan had heard of Cruach before, but they had limited intel on the being. Yet another immortal threat. Yet more information for the taking …

"I’m supposed to be facing him right now, but you have me locked up here!" She drew her lips back from her smallfangs, reminding him of what she was. "Because of you, Chase, the world is teetering on the brink of apocalypse, immortals and mortals in jeopardy."

He’d speak with Webb about this, determine a plan of action-

"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."

Chapter TWENTY

Late that night, once Declan finally 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 Woden’s cherished daughters." She said these words as if they should have some meaning to him. "Have you heard of us?"