Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
"I don't…" I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth.
"Here." He grabs a bottle of water from the cedar nightstand and holds it out to me. I take it gratefully, shivering when our fingers connect. A jolt shoots up my arm, piercing through every nerve in my body as it sinks deep.
In that moment as we connect skin-to-skin, we're no longer Tori Golding and Reaper, but one entity consumed by an all-encompassing desire. I feel everything he does—the burning ache in his chest, the overwhelming urge to protect, and the suffocating heat of longing. His emotions roll over me in a hot wave. It's as if our bodies have merged into one, granting me intimate access to every thought and every desire…and giving him the same cart blanche.
His desire feeds mine, or perhaps mine feeds his. I don't know. But in that moment, I want him. God, I want him like I've never wanted anything. The piercing ache hits me like a hammer blow, leaving me trembling.
I gasp and pull away, my hand shaking uncontrollably from the raw intensity of the emotion coursing through me.
The others in the room stir restlessly.
"Helvete," Reaper breathes, his amber eyes practically glowing as he stares at me.
"What was that?"
"The bond between our souls," he says, his voice guttural. "It's fierce." He exhales a shaking breath, his lips kicking up into a grin that's a little bit wicked and far too beautiful. "And desperate."
That's one way to put it. Sweet merciful…
I quickly fumble the cap off the water, spilling some in my haste to do something—anything—other than look him in the eyes. I take a big drink, gulping greedily from the bottle.
When I've finished half of it, I reluctantly twist the cap back on and take a breath, feeling no calmer. I opt to focus on more immediate concerns and leave the supernatural alone for the moment.
"Where am I?" I ask, staring at the soft fur pelt stretched across my lap.
"Eitr, a small town in the mountains a few hours from Seattle."
I stare blankly at the giant with gold eyes.
"This is Damrion, little Valkyrie," Reaper says, his voice gentle, but full of respect. "He's our leader, the last of the Fae of royal blood."
"Oh." I hesitate. "Should I curtsey?"
A ghost of a smile twists at Damrion's lips. "Nei, Valkyrie."
My brows furrow. "Why do you guys keep calling me that?"
The girl rolls her eyes. "It's a respect thing, like calling someone princess or your Highness. As far as they're concerned Valkyrie are the best thing since sliced bread. They were besties in Valhalla for a billion years before Valhalla fell. Since we're the only two Valkyrie they've been able to find since our ancestors were all killed, they kind of go overboard with it. You get used to it eventually."
"This is Rissa," Reaper says, patient affection in his voice.
"We did not serve for a billion years, elskan-ljós," the Fae beside her says, smiling.
"Close enough."
"Her mate, Dax," Reaper murmurs, supplying his name. "The other two are Adriel and Malachi."
"Not even remotely close," Dax says. "But ja, we do have great respect for the Valkyrie. You are the brightest Lights in the nine realms, chosen by the Gods themselves to defeat the Forsaken and save us all. Protecting you is a great honor."
"I'm not a Valkyrie."
Everyone turns to look at me. I fight the instinctive urge to cower against the headboard.
"I'm sorry if that's what you think," I say instead, "but you must have me confused with someone else. I'm just Tori."
"Nei, little Valkyrie," Reaper disagrees, his voice firm. "You are not just Tori. You're a Valkyrie. The blood runs strong in your veins."
I stare at him, dismayed, as my head begins to pound. My heart does too, anxiety slithering through my veins.
"I don't want to be one," I whisper. Maybe that makes me a coward. I don't care. The only thing I know about Norse mythology is about the Valkyrie. They carry the souls of warriors to Valhalla. And now, apparently, they're meant to save all of existence, too. I don't want to do that. If that's why I was kidnapped, count me out.
Reaper shifts positioning, bearing closer to me as if to offer comfort. His massive shoulder brushes mine. His amber gaze is full of unwavering resolve, and in this moment, I understand how he earned the name Reaper. It's a name made for a man who wouldn't hesitate to cut down anyone who dared to harm what he considers his own. He's fierce in his devotion, his loyalty as solid as his unbending will.
"Listen to me, Tori." His voice is soft, as if he understands the storm raging within me. "Fate doesn't ask us what we want. It gives us tasks we may not have chosen for ourselves."
I swallow hard, my gaze tangled with his as my heart races. He lifts a hand, brushing away a loose curl from my face with such care that my breath hitches. His touch is impossibly gentle, filled with an understanding that calms the turmoil inside me. But his skin against mine sears me, heat sinking all the way to my womb.