FORTY-TWO

Regin woke in a rush. She’d been dozing against Thad again, who still snored beside her.

Throughout the night and morning the two of them had slept on and off, recuperating as they waited for some of the battles to die down.

Rubbing her gritty eyes, she glanced around. She saw lots of torture instruments but no torturer. Chase and everyone else were outside the room.

When Thad began nuzzling her neck, pressing his opened lips against her, she smacked him in the back of the head. “Don’t go vamp on me now!”

“Whaa!” He shot upright, his fangs sharp. “Where am I?”

She glanced at his fangs, then down. “Oh, my gods, when do you not sport wood? There are bathrooms in the back, so go burp the worm or whatever.”

Blushing furiously, he muttered, “I-I’m really sorry.” He pulled his T-shirt lower. “I don’t know what’s happening with me.”

“You were either about to bite me or kiss me or both. Not a chance, kid! You’ve got better odds with Natalya—and those are looking up at zero.” At his mortified look, Regin exhaled. “Look, I had a rough night, and I’m taking it out on you.”

“I get it. It’s cool.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “So, uh, Natalya’s totally out?”

“Yeah, Brandr cockblocked you. Sorry. But one day, you’ll find someone nonpoisonous. … ” She trailed off when Natalya came down the steps from the outer door.

Thad shot to his feet, finger-combing his hair.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” the fey chirped as she strolled into the room, looking rested and relaxed. “Come on, it’s high noon, and we’ve got a boat to catch!”

And clearly, you got laid, Regin thought with a spike of jealousy. When she got back to New Orleans, she’d take a lover. No more being faithful to Aidan.

She’d take two. Hell, there was that pack of leopard shifters that’d been sniffing around her. I’ll lift tail for every single one of them.

Regin rose, every muscle in her body protesting. “I’m taking a fiver.” She scuffed toward the lavatory she’d found.

Natalya ruffled Thad’s hair with her knuckles, discomfiting him even more, then followed her inside.

As Regin rubbed water on her face, Natalya hopped up on the next sink over. “So how about those revelations from last night! I suppose they’re hampering your revenge plans. Because of the whole Chase-didn’t-order-your-torture development.”

“Just means he gets to live.”

“Well, the important thing is that I got my revenge.”

Regin tugged up her shirt to dry her face, then peered at her injury.

“Your skin’s completely healed,” Natalya said, her tone impressed.

“There was a lot of lightning last night—it helps. I’ll be as good as new in a few hours.”

“But you’re not glowing.”

Regin shrugged. “It might not come back.” Her mother’s had been forever dimmed. After Wóden and Freya had rescued her from the vampires that killed everyone in her village, her skin had never glowed as it once had. And it’d been covered with vampire bite scars.

I learned to count by them, never knowing how much I was hurting her.

“Oh, here”—Natalya stood, reaching into her jacket—“first time I’ve ever had women’s lingerie in my pocket that wasn’t my own.” She handed Regin her bra. “Though it probably won’t be the last.”

Regin slipped off her shirt to don it, vowing to burn these clothes when they got back.

Natalya pinched her own cheeks, then vogued in the mirror for a few poses. “So, what are you going to do with Chase now? Not going to soften toward him at all?”

Last night, Regin almost had when he’d revealed his scarred skin to her—and when he’d been suffering through withdrawal.

He’d been off to the side by himself, silently shaking in the dark. Going through that alone …

Then Regin had remembered all he’d done to her. “After his laundry list of crimes? Historically, whenever someone abducts, poisons, or stabs me, I don’t do second chances. Historically. I’m going to get on that boat, then get the hell away from him at the earliest opportunity.” She’d find Lucia, and pick her life up where she’d left it.

“No attraction there?”

“Nothing there whatsoever,” she said, ignoring Natalya’s snort of disbelief. “Speaking of attraction. So, you and Brandr? Thad was crushed.”

“The kid’s seventeen. Just turned. In any case, Brandr and I scratched an itch. No big deal.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It wasn’t all that wonderful, to be honest. I was afraid of poisoning him, even with my torque, and he was worried about hurting me. Basically, instead of one of us zigging while the other zagged, we both zagged. But you want to hear something crazy?” She leaned in to say, “I can’t seem to stop looking at Lothaire. I caught him washing off earlier—shirtless—and was gobsmacked by the sight of his body. His physique and face are flawless, like a sculpture or something. Those hooded eyes of his—”

Without a word, Regin turned toward the door.

“What?” Natalya called, following her. “Name one thing about him that’s not perfect!”

Over her shoulder, Regin said, “Maybe his razor-sharp vampire fangs? Maybe the fact that his ‘physique’ is fueled by a liquid diet? And those hooded eyes you were about to rhapsodize over? They’re the color of blood.”

Natalya grumbled, “Details, details.”

They met up with Thad outside the lavatories, then the three emerged from the bunker into pouring rain and whipping winds. Lowering clouds promised more of both. Goody.

As a Valkyrie, Regin could withstand extreme temperatures, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed being soaked and chilled.

They navigated the rock cutouts, then crossed to the nearest clearing. The landscape here was rocky with peaks in the distance, each bleaker than the last, like they’d be named Mount Donner Party or Need-A-Mind-Eraser Point.

The rest of the males caught up to them there. Chase’s wrists were bound in front of him now. Brandr, that ever-loyal ass, must’ve retied them.

The magister didn’t approach her, didn’t try to speak with her, but he cast her a darkly possessive look.

Nope, nothing there whatsoever. At all. Less than nothing.

Declan realized with a jolt of alarm that Regin’s skin was as dim as it’d been last night. Surely her wound was healed for the most part by now—she moved without stiffness—but her skin remained ashen.

What if it never returned to normal? If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll figure out how to fix this.

After an initial glance, Regin didn’t look at him again. No surprise, considering all he’d done to her. And that’d been before he’d revealed his scars.

All night he’d wondered what the hell had possessed him to do that.

She gazed around at the scenery with plain distaste. Though a carpet of firs spread out below them, the mountaintops were bare—not because of snowfall, but because the peaks were too craggy for trees to grow.

He’d always enjoyed the desolate landscape high on the mountains, but she lived in a warm bayou town, resided at the edge of a swamp. If she hated this place now, it’d only get worse the higher they got. The rain would grow nearly constant, the wind gusting.

She pushed a sopping braid from her face. “Another day in paradise.”

Could any female hate a man more than she does me?

Regin’s attention turned to Lothaire, who still looked affected by his nightmares. If vampires experienced others’ memories as if they were reliving them, then how could Lothaire not be tortured by what he’d dreamed?

Declan had once thought he wouldn’t wish his past torment on even his worst enemy. Recalling Lothaire’s bite, he decided, No, I’m good with it.

“How are you going to keep up with us during the day?” Regin demanded of the vampire.

“Overcast skies, superior nutrition, and my purloined army gear for cover.” He tipped his wide-brimmed bush hat toward her. “And you?”

“Isn’t your girlfriend La Dorada coming for you?”

He stilled, as if listening for her. “Not as of yet. Soon though.”

“You stay outta my way, leech, or I will go lord-of-the-flies on your ass.” Again, she instinctively reached back for her swords. Swords that could never be replaced. They’d surely been buried in the facility’s collapse.

Lothaire sighed. “Regin the Eloquent.”

“Eat me.” She passed them all without a glance. “Just tell me where we’re heading.”

Declan said, “If you want to be on point, we’re going west—”

She unerringly turned due west and started climbing. Natalya and Thad joined her, and the three began conversing, mainly answering Thad’s constant stream of questions.

Brandr hung back with Declan, while Lothaire brought up the rear.

In a low voice, Brandr said, “My gods, man, I’ve never seen you look so routed.”

“You’ve seen me only a handful … ah, you mean as Aidan.”

“Hell, even when you were dying, you looked more enthusiastic than this.” When Declan said nothing, Brandr bit out a curse. “Listen, it isn’t over. She has feelings for you.”

“Oh, aye. Very strong ones. Hatred, for instance.”

“If that’s the case, then why couldn’t she kill you?”

“She told me I didn’t deserve her mercy—” Declan tensed when Lothaire closed in from behind.

“Are we talking about the Valkyrie, Magister?”

“Don’t call me that! I’m no’ one any longer.” What am I now?

He was … nothing.

“You’re on a clock,” Lothaire said. “Once she escapes this island, she will leave you behind without a second thought.”

And I’ll follow. That’ll be the way of things now.

Brandr said, “After a thousand years of warring with leeches, I never thought I’d say this sentence, but … the vampire’s right. You have to win her back before we reach the boat.”

“Win her back?” Declan snapped under his breath. “I never had her to begin with!” Dead between us.

There’d been only one night when he’d felt they had a real connection—when she’d been in his home, in his bath. She’d spun him tales so appealing that for a split second, he’d thought about freeing the miscreats she aligned with and flying her to bloody Belfast.

At the time, it’d seemed like madness; now it looked like a missed chance.

But, he reminded himself, there’d been no connection. It had all been an act—one designed to kill him. She might have pulled back at the last minute, but the intent had still been there. “Just save your breath.”

“You can win her,” Brandr insisted.

Declan actually held a measure of trust for the berserker. Yes, Brandr had proven himself repeatedly, but even Declan would admit there was something more. As if they’d known each other …

Now a thread of hope arose at the man’s words. Maybe he knew enough about Regin to aid him. Aye, and maybe you’re chasing the wind. “How can I?” Had he said that out loud? Fuck.

Thad scuffed back to join them, still burdened by his pack. “So, what are we talking about?” He fell in beside Lothaire.

The vampire said, “About how Chase can win back the Valkyrie.”

Chase cast him a killing look over his shoulder.

“Well, men,” Thad began in a solemn tone, “this sounds like a brewski moment to me.”

Declan frowned when he heard a pop-top opening. “You brought beer with you? That’s what filled your pack?”

“Regin said there’s no drinking age in the Lore. And I was thinking I was going to die and all. It’s not just beer, anyway. I’ve got condoms, cologne, toothpaste. Essentials.”

So we have no food.

Brandr said, “Sounds like you were planning on getting laid before you die.”

“I was, until you—how’d Regin put it?—until you cockblocked me.”

That’s my foulmouthed lass.

“What can I say?” Brandr shrugged. “But by all means, pass the beers around.”

Thad handed the berserker one, then offered another to Lothaire, who merely raised his brows. “You want one, DC?” the kid asked.

Declan stiffened. “You didn’t just call me that.”

With a cheery grin, Thad handed him a warm can.

This situation was surreal. Here he was, hiking a mountain trail at the bottom of the world with a reviled vampire enemy, a vampire lad, and a berserker.

And this was the closest Declan had come to male bonding since he’d run with a gang back in Belfast.

Losing my mind. Fuck it. Consider it already lost. A sunk cost. He raised his bound hands and accepted the beer.

“Sorry it’s warm.”

“How I like it,” Declan said, though he could scarcely remember the last time he’d drunk alcohol of any kind.

Thad swigged from his can. “So how far did you guys get?”

Brandr said, “If you want my advice, Chase, you need to convince her that the old Aidan is in there. Maybe make an attempt to be more like him.”

In a disbelieving tone, Declan said, “Be more like Aidan.” I can barely figure myself out … He had no idea what or who he was, but now he was supposed to emulate someone else?

“Start being honest with her. Aidan always let her know what he was thinking. And he fairly much treated her like a queen.”

Lothaire sneered, “That’s the worst bloody advice I’ve ever heard!”

Agreed.

Brandr bowed his chest. “And why’s that, leech? She cared for Aidan once—she will again.”

“Precisely. She cared for Aidan,” Lothaire said. “I knew of Aidan the Fierce—no mortal could kill that many of the Horde without my hearing about it. And I know that he was a bold, blond Viking who was like a god among men. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him.” He sighed. “Reminded me of myself.” Then he jerked his chin at Declan. “Chase here is a coal-haired, scarred, underhanded, emotionally deficient Irishman. Who, incidentally, is loathed universally by immortals and mortals alike.”

Just lay it out there, leech. But Lothaire was right. Who was Declan to compete with Aidan—the man Regin had so clearly loved?

Not for the first time, Declan felt a blistering hatred for the man. A jealousy that ate at him. Even if I might be Aidan. Sunk cost.

Lothaire said, “I have a much better plan.”

“Why help him?” Thad asked pointedly. “When you don’t help anybody else?”

Lothaire exhaled ruefully. “Incurable romantic.”

Incurable romantic, my arse. What was Lothaire’s game? What would he gain by this?

Brandr said, “A millennia-old source of unadulterated evil dispensing relationship advice? We’ll pass.”

“If he takes my advice and it doesn’t work, then I’ll release him from one of his vows to me.”

Declan’s thoughts had been so filled with Regin, he’d forgotten how in deep he was with Lothaire—a vow for all the blood the vampire could drink and an open ended one, for anything.

Which meant … I’ll be killin’ Lothaire as soon as he stops being useful.

Brandr shook his head. “If your advice doesn’t work, Chase could drive her further away.”

“Is that even possible?” Lothaire countered. “Now, the first thing. Brandr tells her nothing, none of that greasing the wheel.” Imitating Brandr’s voice, Lothaire said, “Aw, Regin, he’s been tortured. His life’s miserable. He just wants you so badly, and psst, the poor guy’s a drug addict—”

“You do drugs, DC?” Thad was appalled.

“Did,” Declan bit out. “Past tense.”

Brandr looked like he wanted to kill Lothaire. “If I tried to grease the wheel, it’s because Chase could use some help right about now. All the help he can get.”

Lothaire briefly gazed heavenward. “Chase is clearly a reluctant sharer. Which should incite her curiosity about what’s going on in his head. She’s a disgustingly self-righteous Valkyrie, filled with the need to fix things, to right wrongs. If anything needed fixing …” He waved a hand to indicate Declan from head to toe. “As wrong as he can be.”

Declan remained silent, even though this reasoning seemed sound. Jaysus, Dekko, taking advice from a leech who’s blackmailing you for blood?

His jaw clenched so hard that he almost kept himself from grating, “Second thing?”

Lothaire said, “Ignore her. Regin is accustomed to being the center of attention wherever she goes. In her circle, she’s the showstopper, loud and brash compared to the silent sister she’s always around. If you ignore her, Regin will grow even more curious about you.”

Ignore Regin? When even now his gaze was scope-locked on the back-and-forth swish of her hips and arse? Need hammered at him. Without those shots, lust was riding him hard.

Brandr snapped his fingers in front of Declan’s face. “Oh, yes, this is going to work like a charm.”

“No, it’ll totally work!” Thad finished his beer, offering a second round. When both Declan and Brandr refused, Thad cracked open another one for himself. “I ignored Sally Ann Carruthers for an entire semester. My mom came home early one afternoon and found her waiting for me. Get this—Sally Ann was waiting naked in my bed. Mom dragged her out by her ear.”

Quirking a brow at that, Brandr asked Lothaire, “And the next part of your plan?”

“Tonight we will all make sure she has a chance to go off by herself. Then Chase will use violence to break the ice with her.”

Declan repeated, “Violence.”

“Live by the sword, love by the sword,” Lothaire said.

Thad belched. “I got nothing on the violence. I was taught to respect women.”

“He can respect her in the morning. Or not.” Then Lothaire began outlining a plan for this very night.

With each word, Declan realized the strategy made a certain sick sense. He’d have to go out of his comfort zone, but if this plan could work …

Thad said, “This is definitely beyond my realm of experience. But I do have a tip, DC. My gram told me there’s one thing a man always forgets to do whenever he bungles something—simply say he’s sorry. Don’t forget to do that.” He pulled another beer from his pack. “Going to see if my girls are thirsty.” He trudged ahead to join Regin and the fey.

Brandr seemed resigned to Lothaire’s plan, but added, “If this works, Chase, you still can’t kiss her.”

“Because her lips drug men? Is that even true?”

“Aidan once admitted to me that her lips were like a drug, but I don’t believe he meant literally. Hell, you two were locked at the mouth most of the time. However, I do think it makes you remember your past life sooner.”

The idea of losing himself to Aidan’s memories no longer sounded so bad. Especially if Declan’s memories of torture, of addiction, of hurting Regin would all fade. Instead, he’d remember what it was like to be respected by his men rather than feared, to be adored by Regin rather than hated. “You truly believe in this curse?” Stranger things had happened in the Lore, but Declan had been cursed before and knew how it felt. Wouldn’t he sense his impending doom now?

“I’ve seen it happen too many times,” Brandr said. “So no kissing her, and no berserkrage with her. And by no means can you claim her.”

Not claim her? If that Valkyrie parted her thighs and actually wanted Declan between them …? “Boyo, understand me”—his gaze pinned Brandr’s—“if I get a chance with her, I’m fuckin’ takin’ it.”