Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I sob his name and choke on hope, clawing at his back, trying to keep him as close as possible. So close nothing can rip us apart—not the Bifröst, not fate, not the Gods themselves. This warrior is mine. If the Norns demand a sacrifice to part the Veil, it can't be him.
I won't allow it.
"Kiss me," I beg. "Kiss me until you're the only thing that exists."
"Kara, princess," he breathes, immediately brushing his lips against mine. "For you, I am the only thing that exists. Ek elska þik. I love you."
I shatter apart, falling to his Light, to his love, with his name echoing from the rafters around us.
He groans my name, burying his face in my throat as my pleasure sends him spiraling over the edge with me. "I love you," he chants over and over, as if he's trying to brand his adoration on my soul. "I love you, Valkyrie."
I cling to him, wrecked and ruined…and whole in a way I've never been.
"I love you too, Stephan."
And, perhaps, that's what makes the bitter edge of fear so sharp. I love him…but I don't know how to save him. I don't know how to keep him. And I'm absolutely certain the Bifröst wasn't wrong today.
His life is the sacrifice fate demands.
And I'm not nearly strong enough to make it.
Chapter Nine
Stephan
"I'm tired of hunting varulv," Malachi complains in a deep rumble, kicking at a fallen log as we troop back toward the village, weary to our bones. "My boots are wet. My feet are cold. And my balls are chafing. We need the Valkyrie."
Dax snorts loudly beside him. "Wear better pants and you won't have that problem, Malachi."
Malachi shoots Dax a withering look, slashing at a branch with his lyststål. "I would not have this problem if the devil dogs weren't spread from one side of Valhalla to the other," he grumbles. "My Valkyrie says I've lost weight."
"Where? In your head?" Rhistel mutters, causing Garrison to boom laughter from behind me.
"I heard that," Malachi growls, turning a dirty look on Rhistel, who flashes him a cheeky grin.
"He's not wrong," I murmur to Dax and Damrion.
"About his chafing balls?" Dax asks, deadpan.
Damrion snorts, stepping over a fallen log.
"Nei." My lips twitch. "About the Valkyrie. We need them." Because the Valkyrie are back at the village and can't be left unprotected, there are only a finite number of warriors we can afford to pull from their guard. It's slowed progress to a crawl. Even with the wolves and ravens helping us, there's too much of Valhalla to cover. And we've covered less than half of it.
We might as well be chasing our tails. By the time we clear one section, the varulv have moved to another. They stay ahead of us for the most part. We've killed less than thirty in the last week. Thirty out of Gods only know how many. One hundred? Two?
The Valkyrie could kill dozen in seconds. They could sweep them from Valhalla in a matter of hours. But we don't risk it because we need them at the Bifröst, guarding it. The force on the other side is far greater than the one here. If they break through, we need the Valkyrie to hold the line.
But Malachi is right. We need them here, too.
"Ja," Damrion says wearily. "We need them."
"Ja," Dax agrees softly.
But none of us suggest asking them to come. We can't. They already have too much on their plates, and it's wearing them down. Ever since the Bifröst responded to Kara, they've been trying like hell to figure out the message it delivered.
Her eyes grow a little bleaker every day, as if she's losing hope that it means anything other than what she fears. Her thoughts grow a little more desperate. I don't think she's the only one. Judging by the way the Fae watch her sisters, worry carving grooves around their eyes, they're as mired in dark thoughts as my Valkyrie.
Abigail barely sleeps. When she does, she wakes screaming. Dark shadows rim her eyes. Damrion and Adriel watch her like hawks, as if afraid she might shatter at any moment. Being away from her is hell for Damrion. He doesn't say it, but he doesn't have to say it. The truth is written in his eyes for all to see.
The Forsaken haven't made a move against us in weeks, and they're winning. We reclaimed Valhalla, and it might as well be a tomb for all the good it's done us.
Kara is terrified the only way forward is with our bond severed. She hasn't said it, but she doesn't need to say it. I hear it in her thoughts. I see it in her eyes. I don't believe it for a minute. The Norns wouldn't have put us together only to demand this of her—of us. Fate is a bitch of a mistress, but it isn't that cruel.