FORTY-NINE

“So I guess one of my biological folks was a vamp?” Thad asked Regin and Natalya on their fifth day of trekking.

As Chase and Brandr walked behind them in easy conversation, Regin and Natalya hosted day two of their vampire crash course. They’d started it yesterday, mainly to counteract all the things “Mr. Lothaire” had been telling Thad:

“You can teach yourself to half-teleport, becoming as good as invisible to spy on people… Valkyrie blood tastes ambrosial. … Stealing money from humans is rewarding both financially and spiritually. … Females crave being bitten—they lie if they deny it. …”

Regin peered around for the vampire, her hand unconsciously falling on the schwag sword she wore at her hip. Lothaire was MIA yet again. He often went off by himself.

Natalya told Thad, “Most likely your dad was. Vampire females are as good as extinct.”

Thad was aghast. “No females?”

Natalya patted his shoulder. “You can date other species, Tiger. Don’t you worry. I’ve already thought of some ladies to relieve you of your big V. One’s a nymph—”

“Over my dead body,” Regin said. “Two-bit hookers, every one of them.”

Thad scratched his head. “Mr. Lothaire said every male needed a purring nymph or two chained to the foot of his bed. As pets.”

Natalya gasped. “All right, lad, no more talking to Lothaire.”

Though Regin was strong enough to confront that vampire over his crimes against the Valkyrie, unfortunately, Lothaire had come in handy.

If their crew of six passed groups of evil demons, he always appeared in time to defuse the situation. The demons fawned over him like he was Elvis or something, saving them a fight—and saving them time.

They were already cutting it close to get to the boat. For the last five days, they’d pushed hard through the mountains, but the never-ending storms and wind made for slow going. And on the second day out, they’d spotted throngs of Wendigos teeming in the forests below, so their crew had clung as high as possible to the rocky peaks, taking extra time.

All the while, Regin had continued to sense another Valkyrie, yet couldn’t pinpoint it enough to go searching. She’d asked Chase about it, but he’d sworn no other Valkyrie had been in the facility.

“Nat, are my fangs looking any bigger?” Thad murmured, his tone dire. “Be honest.”

As Natalya oohed and aahed over his “manly” fangs, Regin only half-listened, glancing over her shoulder at Chase. Earlier, he’d tried to draw her into conversation, but she’d been too out of sorts. Now she was lost in her own thoughts, about to introspect like a son of a bitch.

She feared she might be a jot more than infatuated with this reincarnation. Like on her way toward falling-off-a-skyscraper-onto-your-face in love with him.

Which she could never allow.

But gods, that man appealed to her in so many ways. Regin liked that he was complicated, and that he was trying. She admired that he’d overcome so much and was striving to be a better man.

Other males might feel sorry for themselves or rail against fate. Not Chase. He just picked himself up again and again.

For each of the last four nights, the two of them had gone off by themselves. He’d never tried to kiss her mouth or make love to her—as if he knew she’d pull the plug on their arrangement. After they’d slaked the worst of their need, they talked into the morning, with her curled against his chest. He’d pet her hair while she traced his scars, wishing she could take away the pain that had rendered them.

Last night, he’d finally told her of the days and nights he’d been a captive of the Neoptera. Though his tone had been brusque—as if he were relating a military report—he’d physically reacted to the memory. Sweat had dotted his upper lip and brow, his eyes lit with misery.

Afterward, when he’d eventually passed into a fitful sleep, she’d lain awake, dazed, wondering how he could possibly have endured that pain.

And to what end? Why would he survive so much just to have his life ended now?

Though he slept little, when he did he continued to dream about his past lives. One night, he’d experienced the battle when Gabriel had captured Regin’s ship. Another night, he’d relived the Spaniard’s wicked bed play with her. She’d woken to Chase’s fingers plunging deep inside her as he stroked himself in time.

His intense gaze had swept from his busy fingers to her mouth. When he’d wet his own lips, she’d quickly said, “No kissing.”

“I can wait you out, Valkyrie,” he’d rasped. “Now that my prize is in sight. …”

Each dream sent her panic escalating. Soon he would remember all, and then Aidan would rise to the fore, taking over.

Declan Chase, the man, would be no more, his life just a memory, his body soon to perish.

The cycle continued, the curse grinding on.

“I need your help,” Declan muttered to Brandr as Regin climbed ahead with Thad and Natalya.

Brandr raised his brows. “You know that’s what I’m here for.”

Declan did know that. The man was proving to be a staunch ally. Still Declan had difficulty asking others for assistance. “How do I talk Regin past that curse?”

Brandr said, “You don’t, if you want to stay alive.”

He ground his teeth in frustration. In his mind, the rescue from the island was as good as done. All her conditions could still be met. The only thing that stood in their way was this curse.

Declan intended to eliminate anything in their way, to do whatever it took to claim her as his own. The last few days with her had been amazing. Life had never been so bloody easy for him. He didn’t have to disguise his accent with her, didn’t have to hide his body. He felt no strain.

He’d never imagined that a woman could fit him so well. He liked the way she thought, liked that she said outrageous things and threw mud in his face. Regin had flavor.

His lass was the opposite of soulless.

They’d talked deep into the night, getting to know each other better. She’d confided her secret fear—ghosts—and her addiction to video games. And she was droll. Though he was out of practice laughing, his lips had curled when she’d itemized the things she’d made demons eat.

The one subject she refused to talk about? The distant past. She feared him remembering more, feared triggering that damned curse. “What do you suggest then, Brandr? Because I’m no’ givin’ her up.”

“As if you could.”

“No, I’m done for. Would be happily so if I could get her to feel the same way.”

“Have you considered trying to become immortal?”

Three weeks ago, Declan would’ve been insulted by this question. Now it made him regret that he couldn’t be. “You think I’d immortalize this battered body?” He waved his hand to indicate his chest. “Besides, I know the risks inherent in turnin’. I just want a few decades with the lass.”

“You won’t get it. If you sleep with Regin, you’ll die. Period. The only chance you have is to become an immortal before you claim her.”

“And how would I do that? You know the transformation is no’ foolproof.” The catalyst to become another species was death—and it didn’t always work.

Demons turned only a fraction. The Lykae had better odds, but it often took a newly transformed werewolf decades to control his inner beast—if it could be tamed at all. “Can you transform another into an immortal berserker?”

“I have no idea, but if I had to say, I’d go with no. I’ve never heard of it happening. The ones with most success at this are the vampires. Which would never work.”

“Aye, I despise them, could never become one.”

Brandr lowered his voice. “And we know how Regin feels about them.”

“She hates them for killing her man.”

“Regin hated them long before that. Her mother’s entire race was exterminated by vampires.”

Declan ran his hand over his face. “I did no’ know that.”

“And if you did become a vampire, her Valkyrie blood would be irresistible to you. There’s no way she could spend eternity as a host to one of them, not even for you. Face it, Chase, your only hope is to abstain with her.”

Declan caught Regin glancing over her shoulder at him with silvery eyes. “Then I’ve no chance in hell,” he said dryly. “But I’m no’ convinced of this, Brandr. I’m strong—stronger than I’ve ever been. I’ll no’ go out so easily, now that I’ve something to live for.”

“I wish it were that simple. Listen, Regin has alliances with the witches. They might be able to help you—if you don’t claim Regin before we reach New Orleans.”

“The witches will do no favors for me.”

“We can figure something out. But only if you can wait …” Brandr trailed off as Lothaire approached them. “What do you want, leech?”

He rubbed his tongue on his fang. “Chase’s end of the bargain.”