About to Blow Mari Freeman Valkyrie’s Vow, Book One
For a thousand years, Mist has shepherded battle-slain warriors to their choice of Valhalla or Asgard. It’s the task she was charged with upon her own death, the mission she chose when becoming Valkyrie. Never before has she fallen for one of those warriors. But then, never has she felt emotions like those evoked by Kurt Stone. As an undercover cop, Kurt expected a shortened life. He didn’t expect an afterlife spent jumping from realm to realm, screwing a tattooed hottie who makes his blood boil. He should be choosing his next destination, but he’d rather spend eternity indulging in Mist’s delectable body. The vicious betrayal that led to her death has made Mist reluctant to trust, let alone love. If Kurt can help her face ancient demons, they both might find their idea of Heaven…together.
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About to Blow ISBN 9781419938870 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED About to Blow Copyright © 2012 Mari Freeman Edited by Kelli Collins Cover design by Syneca Photography: Olga Ekaterinsheva, Katrina Blazhievskaya/Shutterstock.com; Fotolia.com Electronic book publication January 2012 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
ABOUT TO BLOW Mari Freeman
Dedication To Kristin Daniels. You are a funny, beautiful woman. The fact that you’re also highly talented, which always inspires and motivates me, is a big bonus that makes me grateful every day. This one’s for you. Without our brainstorming chats, there would be no Valkyrie—and certainly my heroes would have horribly boring names.
Mari Freeman
The Valkyrie Women ripped from the jaws of a tortured life and nightmarish death, recruited to serve Odin and retrieve battle-slain warriors bound for a glorious afterlife. Odin bestows these Valkyrie with power, beauty and immortality.
The Valkyrie Vow To jump though space and time, reclaiming the souls of the valiant, the heroic and the lionhearted. To bravely uphold the laws of Odin. To be a conduit of justice on blood-soaked battlefields.
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Chapter One Quaaludes may be old school, but Mist loved the laid-back hum the drug gave her as it crept through her veins. She’d gotten this particular batch back in the sixties, from a creepy little man in a ramshackle village outside Hanoi. They were good. That had been two days ago. It was one of the few upsides to being immortal and sent from battle to battle, collecting souls. Mist got around. Sweltering-hot rice paddy one day, ancient Persia the next. The pumping beat thumped its way through her body, as if following the hypnotic drug’s path. Hip-hop wasn’t her favorite music but this was the twenty-first century, and finding a club in a town this small playing anything but was near impossible. Fuck, she loved this. She’d been here for hours now and not a fight or battlefield in sight. She must have mis-jumped. It happened. Odin’s metaphysical web that let the girls jump from one spot to another made no sense to Mist. There were loose ends, scary places and mistakes. But no one dared complain to Odin—their creator, and the Caretaker of the Dead—about the inconsistencies. If Mist had made an empty jump with no warrior, she was going to enjoy it before she was needed elsewhere. Right now, she didn’t give a shit about how it all worked. Her hips were swaying, her body dripped with sweat and she was almost high. Someone moved in behind her and pressed against her backside. Mist didn’t miss a beat or bother to open her eyes. She raised her hands above the crowd, stretching her long form without a care as to who was grinding against her ass. She wanted to shake off some of the stress of the last few months. Her schedule had been a bitch. A warm body pressed against hers felt good. Really good.
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The beat changed to something seriously sensual and that body pressed closer. Mist felt the brush of breasts on her back. A chick. Nice. The ’ludes had settled in. Nicer. The girl slid her arm around Mist’s waist, splayed a hand on her stomach and pulled backward, hard, as if fucking her from behind in the middle of the club. Mist was getting hot. It’d been ages since she’d had a woman. Hell, it’d been ages since she’d had time for anyone. But who could keep up with time? Maybe this town wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be when she’d landed here. That delicate hand snaked over her exposed belly and down the front of her leather skirt. It was short—extremely short—making it easy for the girl to reach underneath. Mist leaned back, finally taking a glance over her shoulder to check out her bold dance partner. The hot chick’s eyes were closed. Her face looked like a pretty porcelain mask, with overly made-up eyes and bright cherry-red lips. A tight braid held back long red tresses. She was dressed a little too much like a schoolgirl for Mist’s taste but she wasn’t in the mood to be choosy. Especially since the girl’s fingers had found Mist’s clit. She thrust her hips forward, helping the girl out as Mist let her fingers do their own walking, gripping the hottie’s muscular thighs as her arousal gained momentum. Mist was wet. Her pulse pumped in her clit. The beat changed to a sporadic tempo far too elusive to attempt to follow. Mist felt her legs weaken, her muscles contracting. They were attracting little attention since the dance floor was packed, but one talldark-and-handsome strode by, glanced down and decided to watch the show. Mist enjoyed an audience. She watched his face as he watched Hottie’s fingers dance over her pussy. He licked his lips and looked up to Mist’s face. She liked his eyes. Dark, dark brown. Maybe black. It was hard to tell in the club lighting. He wore long sideburns, trimmed and neat, sexy; they mimicked the square outline of his jaw. Both 8
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his ears were pierced and sported silver skulls. Leather cuffs wrapped each wrist, accentuating thick forearms. The throbbing percussion of the music was like a caress, the ’lude had her all relaxed and Mr. Yummy was still watching her. As Hottie continued working her clit, Mist let her gaze lower. The man’s shoulders were broad and clad in a tight black shirt. His jeans were loose, except around the tops of his very thick thighs. He was sex on toast as far as Mist was concerned. She could have fucked both of them right there and then. One of the many advantages of being a Valkyrie—no moral limitations holding one back. A golden cross suddenly shimmered into being on Mr. Yummy’s forehead. “No!” Mist let her head fall back against Hottie’s shoulder. The relaxing high she’d been enjoying washed away as if she’d snorted a line. “Damn it! No.” He was marked. She searched the room with an angry gaze. So this wasn’t a missed jump. It had sure looked that way for a couple of hours. She wanted to whine but she should have known better than to assume. Maybe she’d taken the ’ludes a little too soon. Fuck. Mist squeezed her muscles as Hottie continued her lovely attention. The action magnified all sensation created by those rubbing fingers and Mist held her breath, arching her back as a swift orgasm blasted through her. She couldn’t have stopped it if she’d tried. She’d been right on the cusp and the girl hadn’t let up, having no clue Mist had been rudely yanked from the moment by work. Her warrior stepped forward and snaked a hand around her waist. The redhead kissed her cheek and melted into the swaying bodies crowded on the dance floor. Apparently she wasn’t interested if men were involved. Mist scanned the room again. This was no battlefield. The man didn’t look like a warrior, though he was fucking hot. She wanted to do him, not usher him to an afterlife.
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But she had no choice, really. His fate was sealed. Even touching him could get her into trouble. She was not to influence. But fuck, he was hot. And smelled like sin. Strong arms pulled her close, positioning his hard-on right against her mound. Mist watched as, ever so slowly, he dipped his head and traced his tongue through the valley of her cleavage. Her body shuddered as he inched up to her collarbone. Her knees gave way as his lips closed on her ear, sucking the lobe into his hot mouth and teasing it with that clever tongue. “My turn,” he whispered in her ear, and that too was making her pussy tighten again. And he was right…just not about what his turn entailed. She closed her eyes and willed herself to summon enough strength to pull back. She had to get out of death’s way. Whatever kind of warrior Mr. Yummy was, he was about to battle and lose. Otherwise, Mist wouldn’t be here. She opened her eyes. The cross on his head was glowing brightly. Of course no one else in the club saw it. It was time. She had to let go. But his hand slipped between her legs and, without hesitation, he slid a finger under her thong and through her wet lips. Mist groaned as she pushed him away. “Sorry, baby.” She stepped backward, looking at the huge bulge in his jeans. “Fuck, am I sorry.” He shook his head and said something Mist didn’t understand. The music overwhelmed his voice and the sweaty bodies on the dance floor swallowed him up as she continued to back away. Though the glowing cross still activated her power, calling to it, calling to the magic Odin had given her at the time of her own death. It was warm within her belly, snaking out and through her body, tingling the tips of her fingers, almost an itch she could scratch if she could find the right spot. The time to take Mr. Yummy was close, and she couldn’t be near enough to influence his death in any way.
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Mist balled her hands into fists as she eased from the crowded dance floor, shrinking back against a dank, dark wall where she could watch the events unfold. The black-painted cinderblock felt gritty, and she wished she hadn’t touched it. No worries. Things would be seriously messy soon enough and a little slime from a tacky dance club wouldn’t matter. Few warriors died cleanly. Another quick scan of the room made Mist wish she hadn’t taken that last ’lude. Something was way out of whack. It didn’t work this way. Generally she only had a few minutes before her warrior was slain. Why had it taken hours for her mark to appear? She spotted Mr. Yummy shuffling away with his hands held awkwardly in front of his body. Two men were herding him toward the door none too gingerly but no one on the dance floor batted an eye as they passed. They just looked like a couple of guys dragging their drunken friend to the car. Drawing on her power, Mist changed her corporeal state so she could flow through the wall instead of following through the door. In her current drugged state, the transformation hurt like hell. She shook off the burn as she reached the outside of the club and spotted the two men and Mr. Yummy across the parking lot. The men maneuvered Yummy to the back of the building, cursing and arguing the entire way, but Mist couldn’t hear the details. Her power was building rapidly now, morphing her into Valkyrie, the Reaper. Men often confused the Valkyrie with the Grim Reaper or an Angel or whatever myths were popular for the time period. She preferred they think of her as a Reaper, if they must label. Angels annoyed Mist to no end. She was no fucking Angel. Once fully infused with her magic, she concentrated on the scene before her. Invisible to the men, she rose and hovered above a classic Gran Torino she’d have loved to own. And she would have one, if she could figure out how to move something that
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large through time and space to the castle Freyja maintained for the Valkyrie. So many dang inconveniences with immortality. Her power was limited. Besides being able to maintain a glamour, Mist had very few magical tools to protect herself on the battlefield. She could levitate when her power was activated and shimmy though some walls. She could even heal most of her own wounds—though wounds from another Valkyrie or a God were another story. Those tended to hang around and cause real damage. And they hurt. She could also jump with a small amount of material goods. Thank Odin! She patted the little pouch of happy pills tied at her waist. She huffed as one of Mr. Yummy’s attackers clocked him across the face pretty good. “Oof!” He’d already taken a few punches to those lovely abs. She hoped they weren’t going to beat him to death. The guy was far too pretty and it would take a while for him to go down. She wasn’t blood shy. No way. She’d seen sword battles that lasted hours, complete with severed limbs and far worse. She much preferred the more modern warfare. Yummy took another blow that sent his body tumbling back. Mist raised an eyebrow when he quickly retrieved a hidden weapon. He was fast—but the second attacker was already holding. He blasted Yummy in the chest before he could even take aim. Mist felt that familiar pull, the draw she had to the slain. It was strong with this one. Didn’t matter, though. He was marked as a worthy warrior and she would give him the proper sending-off services. A job was a job. It wasn’t the worst death she’d seen but she felt a twinge of sympathy, which bothered her. She shook it off. Must have been the strangeness of touching him, wanting him before he’d died.
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Her body hummed with the Source. That energy that would bring him over. One of the men called him a pig as they watched him twitch and bleed in the parking lot before walking calmly to a black car and driving away. When Mist floated down and placed her hand on his body, he changed. All the damages repaired and his glory restored. That touch also satisfied her curiosity. Policeman. “That’s why,” she whispered, leaning over his lifeless corpse. “You are a warrior indeed.” Unable to resist, she pressed her lips to his—and together they left the solidity of his earthly realm.
***** Kurt Stone’s head hurt. Bad. He tried to pry his crusty lids open, but couldn’t see even when he did manage a small slit. His body felt as if it’d been hit more times than a piñata stuffed with pills in a room full of junkies. He relaxed. Maybe if he went back to sleep, he’d feel better later. “Sorry, big guy, but it’s time to wake up.” The voice was soothing, sexy. He wanted to see who it belonged to and just where he was. ’Cause at the moment, Kurt had no clue. Where had he been? He tried his burning eyes once more. They peeled open. He blinked several times and things began to take form. Not that he could make out any of it, but there were at least shapes. “That’s it, Gorgeous.” He felt a hand on his chest. “Kurt,” he managed. The single word hurt to say. “Shot?” “Shhh.” Now he felt a hand on his forehead. “Don’t talk yet. It’ll hurt like the devil. Give yourself a few minutes to adjust. Okay?”
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Okay. She was right. It did hurt. Must be in the hospital. Working undercover had landed him there more than once. But he didn’t remember being on a bust. He was at Club 81, last he remembered. Looking for his snitch. Shit. “Who blew my cover?” Words really did hurt. He tried to move but a searing pain took over everything. He let out a yell. That hurt too. “Easy, Kurt. Death hurts, baby. Relax into it. Your body must adjust.” He felt his cock getting hard from the sound of her voice. That hurt even worse. What the heck? He took several deep breaths, relaxed his burning muscles and, sure enough, the pain subsided and he started to feel normal. Well, not exactly normal. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Maybe he’d been given painkillers, because the screaming pain had suddenly eased. “Very nice, Kurt.” She continued to run her fingers over his chest, repeating some design he couldn’t make out. “You’ll be in your new state soon.” He blinked a few more times. His vision cleared a bit. “Where am I?” “In between.” A hot young woman leaned over him, but she was no nurse. Her black, cropped and torn t-shirt exposed her belly, at least seven different necklaces adorned her throat and her ears had more piercings than he could count. Her jet-black hair was cut short. A swirling tribal tattoo adorned her forehead over one eyebrow and trailed down beside her right eye. Not his type. But he was drawn to her round face and mesmerizing green eyes. “Between what?” “This life and the next. Think of it as a layover.” He looked around at the stone walls. “In a cave?” She shrugged. “Not my…most creative transition. Sorry.” He still didn’t really understand. “So, you’re no nurse.” “Sorry. No such luck.” She smiled. “I’m Mist.” She traced the design on his chest once again. “You were shot down in a parking lot. I’m afraid you didn’t survive.”
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“That sucks.” He would have chuckled if he didn’t know it would hurt. “Yes. No. Maybe.” One more of the designs danced over his skin. He felt all the pain drain out of his body, slipping away from his chest, ebbing out of his legs. It tingled in his toes as it flowed from his feet like water. His vision finally sharpened—along with a memory. She was the one he’d been dancing with. The one the redhead had diddled on the dance floor. He’d been distracted by the sexy little show the two girls had been putting on and had let Herzog’s men get the drop on him. She could even be one of his gang. Maybe Kurt was still in trouble. “I am a Valkyrie, Kurt,” she said, as if reading his mind. Her palm stilled on his chest. It was comforting, no matter the weirdness of the situation. His knowledge of mythology didn’t come in handy very often. Strange to need it now. “Like the myth? You’re here to take me to Valhalla?” Her smile was cynical. “You know your mythology. Not many twenty-first-century warriors do.” She sat back and he had to rise up on his elbows to see her. No problem. The pain was gone. He still felt alive. “You have a choice. I’ll escort you to one of two places. You can attempt Valhalla— or Heaven, as your culture calls it—or you can choose a place that’s a little more…foreign to your circle of understanding. A different life in a different kind of place called Asgard. Kind of a dumpy city, if you ask me, but it’s better than the alternative if Heaven isn’t something you can achieve.” Interesting. She stood and paced away, toward the back of what seemed to be a very large, empty cave. Her hips had a unique sway. Kind of a swing with a bit of a limp. Her skirt was short, her legs clad in black socks that rolled over her knees, and she wore solid work boots. She looked like many of the party girls he’d busted.
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“Not too excited by the term ‘attempt’ in that statement.” “I’m sent to men who fight bravely and with honor. The warrior in you has earned the choice. I know nothing about you, your beliefs or who you might be off the battlefield. Choose Heaven, and we land at the Gates and you get your judgment day.” She turned back to him and shrugged. “If you’re an asshole who beats his wife, you may want door number two.” “No wife,” he said, a bit more abruptly than he would have liked. He’d never married and had no other family who would mourn his departure. Undercover work for years tended to alienate a man from any kind of normal life. That should make him sad, but now he figured it was best. No one left behind to weep on his casket. “But I need to warn another cop. If my cover was blown, Nick’s was too. He does have a family.” “When we get to Asgard, you can speak to someone there. I don’t make ghosts.” She shivered, as if the thought frightened her. “Now, you must answer.” She paced back toward him. Her limp was a little more pronounced from this direction. She squatted down in front of him and, without thought, his eyes zeroed in on the junction of her thighs peeking from beneath the leather skirt. Her panties were still wet from her fun on the dance floor. Despite his worry over his death and Nick, Kurt wanted this chick. Maybe the extra horny was normal for a dead guy. Maybe in death, one could have a hard-on as often and for as long as one wanted. Maybe Viagra angels flitted about flinging blue happy dust. Who knows? “How about we stay here and finish what we started in the club?” She was hot. He was willing. Nothing wrong with that. She shot him with a somewhat surprised expression then stood and attempted to pull her skirt down. “That shouldn’t have happened. Stay serious. Your soul to Heaven’s Gates or this body to Asgard?”
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He sat up and squeezed his thighs. He wanted a little more time. “My body feels strange.” She crossed her arms. “You died. That’s what all the pain and burning was about. This is a shell of your humanity. You can feel and such, but it is not like it was when you were alive.” He chuckled. “I’m not like a vampire, am I?” She gave him a little smile. “No. Not far off though.” She tilted her head. “So…is it Heaven or Asgard? Think carefully, it’s a forever decision. You can’t change your mind.” He liked her smile. “Shit. Can we do it first and then I decide?” He smiled back and added, “Don’t I get a last request or a wish or something?” Kurt lay back, tucking his arms behind his head and crossing his legs. “I’m not a freaking genie, dude.” She sounded angry but she was giving him a good looking over. Kurt knew desire when he saw it. And desire was looking him straight in the crotch. He tightened his cock muscles a couple times to make it twitch under his jeans. Her eyes got bigger. Yeah. She was desire wrapped in Heaven. He’d wanted women before, but not like this one. Yeah, buddy. He wanted her bad. He had when she was dancing with the redhead. That’s why he’d quit paying attention to what was going down around him in the dingy club and let those two pushers get the drop on him. Precisely how they’d fingered him as a cop, he didn’t know, but none of that meant shit now. Mist put her hands on her hips and her brows drew in tight. She was clearly getting agitated. He was starting to like his little Valkyrie. “Are you getting this? You are dead. D. E. A. D. You have to go somewhere.” She looked around as if something had suddenly caught her attention. Something Kurt couldn’t see. “And soon.”
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“Or?” He stood. She wasn’t really giving a guy a chance to think things through. He’d never liked being rushed into decisions. She huffed. “You won’t be able to go anywhere if you don’t pick soon. Oblivion. Get it? You are dead. Dead things have to be put someplace where their souls can exist. You can’t exist here. We’re in a temporary place.” “You don’t have to get all serious on me. I’ll decide. Sorry.” She huffed again. “I know this is all messed up and confusing, dude. You’re feeling all fucked up. But you have to decide.” She walked closer and grabbed his wrist. “Right now.” Suddenly Kurt started to feel squiggy, as if he were dissolving. That couldn’t be good. “Fine. The other.” “What?” Mist’s image was shimmering. “Not Heaven…door number two!” he shouted. And just before the whole of his body felt loose and watery, like his bones were disappearing and his skin was left holding Jell-O, he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her, plundering her sweet mouth, tasting her lips. He had to at least kiss her. Kurt was afraid it might be his last chance. For all he knew, Mist could be the last woman he’d ever see. Now being alone with her forever…that would be Heaven.
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Chapter Two Mist knew they’d jumped to the wrong place before she even managed to wrench herself from his fabulous lips. She growled at him and thumped his chest with her fist, not really punching him so much as illustrating some of her frustration. After taking a moment to breathe and another moment to look around them, she growled again, only this time it was a curse that left her lips, with a frightening, unnatural echo through the heavily wooded forest they’d landed in. She shoved Kurt back. “Hey!” “Shut up for a minute, will ya? I need to think!” And kissing him again would not help. She felt for her magic. It was weak and Mist felt as if there was a layer of muck between her and the power that allowed her to move through the realms. With a huff, she grabbed Kurt’s hand, closed her eyes and attempted to transport them to Asgard once again. For an instant, she thought it might work—but then reality shimmered back into place. They were stranded. Her powers were far too depleted for the jump. She poked Kurt in the chest. “You moron! Do you have the slightest clue what you just did?” He shrugged. He didn’t. She wanted to walk away and leave him right where his ass stood. He’d screwed up their jump. Even though he had no real power—except to make her want what he’d been wanting in that moment. She spun back to him. “What the fuck were you thinking?” “I wanted a kiss. Is that so awful? You kissed me back so it couldn’t have been, could it?” He tried to look smug. It didn’t work. Damn, he was cute, but…
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“No. I mean literally. What were you thinking? At the moment you kissed me?” He shrugged again. “Being alone with you forever would be like Heaven.” With that lovely thought, she did turn away and stomp off. To where didn’t matter. She followed a narrow path through the trees. She’d been doing this job a thousand years, maybe more. She’d been medaled for her efficiency, her bravery. She’d led rulers and presidents to their place in eternity and now…now… She looked around. Everything was alive, but it was off. There were no ambient noises, no other signs of life at all. The air tasted metallic. This was not the real Earth. She was so screwed. Mist could see a nice lake just up the wooded path. She slowed to look over the azure water. Not that it soothed her in any way. Kurt caught up to her as she reached the water’s edge. “Wow. It’s Lake Jordan, Ohio.” Great. “I suppose this is some haunt of yours. The place where you’d like to spend eternity with the last fucking woman on Earth?” “Yeah.” He looked over at her. Somehow the dark t-shirt, silver earrings and sideburns seemed out of place in this medieval-looking environment. “Used to fish up here with buddies.” “Well, you’re not in Ohio anymore, sweet cheeks. We’re lost. And I have no way of knowing where.” She yanked her little pill case out of the pouch attached to her belt. He watched as she poured pills into her palm. All she had left were a few hits of speed, two ’ludes and some Ecstasy. She didn’t want the speed. She needed calm. She popped the blue one, the X. “That’s a bit ironic, don’t you think?” He sat down by the water with his knees up and his arms casually wrapped around them. He looked up at her. “I’m lost in the afterlife with a junkie.” She laughed out loud. “I’m no junkie, Kurt. I’m the Reaper. I come with death.” She plopped down next to him. “No worries, Gorgeous. No addictions for the Valkyrie.
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There are very few things that can alter my existence for more than an hour or so.” But she made sure she had plenty around to keep that feeling going. Maybe she couldn’t get addicted, but she used hard. It’d kept the years flowing and the past in the past. “Wish that was the case for the rest of us.” He looked out over the water. “Saw many a good man destroyed by that shit.” Mist just nodded. The X was working its way into her bloodstream. She needed to relax and think. “There has to be a way to get us out of here.” “So what’d I do?” He looked at her. “You somehow altered my magic. The energy I use to usher warriors is very specific. You changed it. Instead of following the metaphysical ferry to Asgard, we’ve been ushered to a separate reality in a freaky realm. Apparently to your version of Heaven, where I’m indeed the only woman on this Earth.” She looked around. No houses. No sounds of civilization. Not even a freaking mouse. “And I’m guessing you are the only man.” “Sweet.” He lay all the way back and looked up at the sky with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re happy about this?” “Well, heck yeah. I thought nothing was waiting for me if I caught a bullet. Hadn’t thought much about what happened past that. Being here with a hot Valkyrie is the stuff of fantasy.” He winked at her and, despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself smiling. Must be the X. “Fuck.” She flung herself back to lie beside him. The sky was a pristine blue with big, fluffy clouds rolling past. If she’d been a child, she’d have looked for the funny shapes, animals or magical symbols. But she’d never gotten to be that kind of child. “We could.” He rolled over and propped his head up on one hand. Immediately the low, sexy rumble of his voice turned her body’s attention from the stress of the situation to the fact he was lying there, all muscle and man, smelling like
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some kind of incense factory that catered exclusively to her olfactory system. How had this happened? He reached his free hand out and used his index finger to trace the same pattern over her chest that she’d used to pull his soul forth. “What’s this represent?” His touch was gentle and warm. “Nothing so mystical.” She sighed. “I was pulling your soul to me. Keeping it from wandering away.” “Wandering away?” He made the design again. It felt luxurious to have someone do it to her. His touch was sensual, even if he had no magic behind it. “Yeah. Lots of things can happen to it. It could get lost and become a ghost. But no worries. It would eventually make a journey to Heaven. Even if I’d lost you, everyone gets their moment to make a plea at the Gates.” She smiled at the momentary shock on his face. “Might not have done so good with that, huh?” His gaze changed back to red-hot desire as his fingers moved and circled one of her breasts over her shirt. “Maybe not.” She wanted to pull away. To figure out what was going on. She wanted to fuck him blind. Maybe the X had been a bad idea. Maybe she’d taken it on purpose, knowing the effect it would have. She wanted Kurt. She’d wanted him from the second she’d laid eyes on his beautiful form. Why this one? She’d seen Spartan soldiers whose perfect bodies made women weep. She’d seen beautiful and brutal gladiators fighting for their lives in nasty pits against unspeakable odds. And she’d avoided anything that might threaten to be an emotional connection. Yet somehow this small-town vice cop made her want things that simply could not be. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Oh…but you can.” He leaned over and took that nipple in his mouth. No asking. No consideration of consequences. He latched onto her tit and, even through the thin fabric of her shirt, worked it and her into a very pleasant tizzy.
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Kurt shoved up the fabric of her shirt and his tongue made contact with her nipple. Mist felt as if she was about to come already. His free hand grabbed her crotch. Nothing soft or gentle. He gripped it, cupping her, holding tight, and she thrust her hips up to increase the pressure. “You like it a little rough, huh, Reaper?” He kissed her hard, not letting her respond. He knew. She knew. No need to verbally acknowledge the answer. She shouldn’t perpetuate this situation. She should be figuring out a way to get them back to the proper realm. This was work, and Mist followed the rules…for the most part. Off hours, in Asgard, she was something of a loose cannon. She also often hung out in the Sixties. The time period suited her—but Kurt Stone was work, not play. He crawled over her body and straddled her hips. She closed her eyes as he dug the fingers of his right hand into her short hair, gripping, pulling a little, tilting her head back to expose her neck. This was not a good idea. Attempting to remind herself of the rules was near impossible as Kurt trailed his tongue from her chest to her neck, moaning as he moved. She tried to wiggle under his weight. He leaned farther forward and tilted his hips, grinding his hard, denim-clad cock against her mound. Rule number one—claim the marked warrior. Check. She’d retrieved him from the battlefield, such as it was. The tip of his tongue traced her ear, hot breath setting off every nerve ending in her body as it danced across the sensitive lobe. She’d claimed him all right. Her breasts were exposed, as was the huge scar that started in the middle of her chest and scored across her left tit. He dipped his head down and traced the marred flesh with his tongue. He wasn’t the first to do it, but he was the first not to hesitate in
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the slightest at the sight of the tattoo she’d had inked over the ancient wound in some dingy 1966 parlor. No matter how much she wanted it to, the art didn’t stay with her. Remnants of glamour magic kept it there now, but to Mist, it was as meaningful as a permanent tat. Many men were wrenched out of the moment by the scar, by the dark ink. She’d had the tat drawn to look like the wound itself, recently closed with leather-looking stitches that made it appear as if she had sewn the thing up herself. It was quite gruesome, and she loved it. She’d topped it off with a piercing on that nipple. Someone had removed her heart. The scar was a reminder of that day. The day she’d been turned, reborn into what she was now. Kurt tightened his fist in her hair, a reminder of where her brain should be. He took the nipple ring between his teeth and pulled, stretching her tight bud past the point of enjoyment, teetering on pain. She squirmed again and he adjusted the grip of his teeth, catching some of her flesh. Searing pleasure rippled through her abdomen and straight to her pussy. “Fuck me,” she breathed. He let the ring and her tormented nipple pop out of his mouth. The rush of blood back to the area gave her another nerve-teasing thrill. “Maybe,” he whispered against her flesh. Never had a man denied her. She was a Valkyrie, for cripe’s sake. Men wanted to please her, even if they didn’t know why. Just like the girl in the bar. The hottie couldn’t know what had drawn her onto the floor and made her want to satisfy Mist right there. But Mist did, and she loved that she attracted so much sexual energy. Kurt’s touch wasn’t like any others, she knew. He wasn’t drawn to Mist because of her magic. He didn’t move in a soft, dreamy state of arousal. His desire felt hard and deliberate. It was heated, gritty and selfish. No. Definitely not a mortal drawn to her magic.
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But it was way wrong to play with her charge. She knew it. Maybe that fact was adding to the sexual fire. Kurt was forbidden. He was moving farther down her legs, his hand snaking under her skirt. That touch and his primal scent were making her head spin. Wrong was so good. Rule number two—deliver your charge as he wills it. Double check. This was what Kurt had willed. But she had a feeling Kurt’s will wasn’t what the Fates intended the interpretation of that particular rule to be. Nope. Who cared? Right now, the drugs and the sex combined to momentarily erase what a thousand years of meditation had been unable to. It eased the pain of a memory, the one represented by the ugly scar. Still, because of that pain, Odin had come for her and given her the choice most people don’t get—door number three, because sometimes young women are warriors too, even when they choose not to fight physically. Sometimes the battle takes place within the heart. Sometimes they get their hearts ripped right out of their chests. Kurt took her other breast in his mouth and suckled hard. Her body screamed for more. Baser needs were winning the battle with her intellect. Not that it was a very fair fight at the moment. Her X-laced brain was firing synapses all over body. Everything tingled. Kurt was everywhere. His hand fisted in her hair and his lips clamped over a breast and when he slid a finger inside her, Mist thought she would scream. Wait. She did scream. She heard it echo in the strangely silent sky. She kicked her pinned-down legs, trying to pry them farther apart so he could reach deeper than her position currently allowed. He bit down on that aching nipple again. Her back arched involuntarily.
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Mist’s breathing sounded overly loud in her ears and she felt the earth below her, heard its distinct hum. Something about that should have been important to her…something lingering just out of reach. Kurt opened his legs a bit, letting her follow suit, and his finger delved deeper, pressed harder into her swollen flesh, her sweet spot. She shuddered and came, breathless. “Fuck me!” She meant it as an expletive, but he took it as a request. “If you insist. You’re a greedy little bitch, Mist.” He didn’t bother to undress her or release the grip he had on her hair. He leaned on his elbow and worked his pants open and down his hips enough to release his cock. She felt the cold metal of his belt buckle dig into her thigh when he repositioned himself between her legs. Her big boots pressed against his knees as she spread wide for him, anticipating. She loosened the strangle hold she had on the grass and found new purchase on the rounds of his exposed ass. “No need for a rubber?” He was dead. She was immortal and infertile. She shook her head. “Good.” He pulled her thong to the side pushed into her with a long, slow thrust. Much slower and much gentler than she’d expected. She was face-to-face with him and loving the tight, savage look etched over those brows. He let out a primal grunt and she knew the entry speed had been for his benefit, not hers. The veins in his neck popped out with his strain. To come. Not to come. She wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. She gripped his cock from inside and dug her stubby, black-painted nails into his ass from outside. And pleaded for more. He let go of her hair and leaned on his elbows, taking her face in both hands. He drew his hips back so his cock was just inside, teasing ferociously. “You do me.” He whispered the demand on her lips.
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She had to struggle to lift her ass because of the position of her boots and the way his chest pressed against hers. The range of movement from her waist down was only a few inches. Nothing more. The muscles of her lower abdomen strained, the pleasure when she managed to bury his thick member inside blissful. He dropped his head to her neck, licking her jugular, around her jaw. “Faster.” She tried to increase the speed. It was hard. It was good. She pushed up, taking him in again and again, thrusting as fast as she could. Squeezing her ass muscles, gripping his cock. He growled like a predator against her skin. “Faster, baby.” His voice faltered in his desperation. It was matching her need. He gave in and began to return her thrusts. Hard and forceful. She wasn’t able to continue on the offensive and he pounded her, pushing her deeply into the soft grass. Her thong pulled against her clit with each slide. Damn. She wished he’d taken his shirt off. She slid her hands under the offensive fabric and navigated the width of his back, stopping at the optimum place to clench and hold on when she shattered, coming again, letting out a long howl into the evening sky. He drove into her a few more times and then plunged himself as deep as he could, holding there tightly, burrowing his head into her neck at the same time. His body shuddered and his legs twitched as he came. Her own body still quivering, Mist could only hold on.
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Chapter Three Kurt eventually rolled off her. “Oh man…” He felt his jeans around his thighs. Man that was good—but he’d been a jerk. “I am so sorry.” How could he have done that to her? He wasn’t a stingy lover, and certainly never so smug as he’d been since he’d woken up…dead. She laughed. “Sorry?” She looked over at him. She’d closed her legs but her skirt and shirt were still askew. Her breasts and that tattoo still showed. She made no attempt to cover them. “Not usually the response I get at this point, but…” As he scrambled to pull up his pants, his addled brain came into finer focus. “I meant that I was a…um…” He looked down at her as he stood. She looked like she’d been attacked. And more than just by him, judging by all her scars. Four, that he could see. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She sat up and her shirt fell, covering her pretty breasts and her tattooed scar. She twisted her neck and he heard it pop three times. It made his shoulders clench. For a long moment she didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if that was sadness or anger he saw briefly in her eyes. Whatever it was, it was long gone when she stared over the clear blue water of the lake. “No need to fret,” she finally said, getting to her knees. “I’m hardly a daisy.” He scratched his aching head. “I guess I’m not a very good dead guy.” Not that he’d been the best of guys when alive. But his work had made that necessary. Playing the part of a dealer didn’t attract the best kind of girls. How long had he been undercover on that last assignment? Eight months? Nine? He thought of Nick again. Hoped the guy figured out Kurt had died and had gotten himself to a safe house. She laughed and stood, adjusting her little skirt. “The transition is hard.” She straightened her shirt, her face hardening as she pulled herself together. “We’re not in 28
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Heaven or Asgard. Some emotional craziness is to be expected. I needed a good stress reliever anyway. Why else do you think I was hanging around that sleazy club?” He shrugged. Who knew the habits of a Valkyrie? He remembered the girl on the dance floor. He was about to ask Mist about the Valkyrie’s sexual appetites when the ground beneath his feet started trembling. Kurt wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden movement. Mist’s features didn’t waver. No fear or alarm showed in her eyes. “Shit.” She turned and walked back in the direction they’d come from. Her limp was more pronounced than it had been before. “I was afraid of this.” Kurt didn’t like the sound of that. “What might someone like you be afraid of?” She let out a snort. “Well, let’s check the radar here, Sparky.” She stopped right where they’d…landed and scanned the area. It was all trees and rocks and dirt. “We’re in an unknown continuum. Given that the place feels way wrong, I think we should consider it unstable.” “I don’t want to say anything to make myself appear to be any more of an ass than I just did, but what the hell does ‘unstable’ mean, exactly?” Yes. He was well aware the current situation was his fault. He remembered his internal wish as she’d tried to escort him where he belonged. But he still needed a little info here. She turned and he couldn’t help staring. She was still looking very hot in that tight tee and short skirt. He still wanted her. Regardless of how much a slimeball that made him, he wanted her bad. But the euphoria from his orgasm had passed and his brain was now churning enough blood through the gray matter that he could tamp down those feelings and gather the pertinent facts. And maybe he could help get them out of this situation. He had no clue how, but it was worth a shot to ask. She let one hip cock to the side, opposite the leg she limped on. He guessed it took the pressure off. “You actually want more?” He looked around, confused. “More what?” 29
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“I sense your arousal, dude.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “I also sense your need to help me. I do not need anything from you.” “So you know how to get us out of here?” He crossed his arms. Her mouth opened to say something, then closed. She did need help. Her face reddened as she turned away again. “Shut up.” She stomped toward a thick stand of trees. The ground shook again, this time hard enough for the trees to drop some smaller limbs. The earth before them rose slightly and a crack wide enough to lose a small child in flowed across their path like a river. She had to jump to cross, but it didn’t slow her pace. Even Kurt was smart enough to figure their reality was faltering. “Really, Mist. I’m not as dumb as I may have acted earlier. Maybe I can help.” She slowed then came to a stop. “How you acted earlier was perfect, okay? I wanted that. I wanted you. You can drop the Mr. Nice Guy routine. Your honor is fully intact.” Mist pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look. I don’t know where we are. My magic, my power is…programmed to move between about ten different worlds, or realms. I’m not allowed to go anywhere else because there are lots of places out there that are very dangerous—and thousands that I don’t know anything about. Like here. This place…” She looked around again. “It’s not one of my approved locales. My magic feels lost and weak here.” She looked at him, her expression serious. “It’s like I need coordinates to take off and land, like a plane. But there’s no grounding, no connection for my magic here. No air traffic control.” “What’s happening to here?” She started walking again. Kurt followed. “I can only guess.” They were going deeper and deeper into a thick forest. The trail was getting harder to follow.
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The ground rumbled beneath his feet again, bubbled up. Kurt stopped and tried to steady himself by holding onto the side of a tree. It was like roller-skating over speed bumps—and he was standing still. “Guess.” She glanced back at him, her stride not changing as she spoke. “This isn’t an actual realm, best I can tell. Somehow, my magic and your desire created a temporary reality for us.” That sounded really bad. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to know. “Then why are we moving so far into the forest?” She slid to a sudden stop. Her head twisted to the side and he could see her profile. She’d closed her eyes and Kurt thought he saw one of the shiny earrings on the top of her ear twitch. Despite the million questions burning the end of his tongue, he shut up and stood as still as he could. This was her scene and he’d already fucked things up badly enough. If she heard anything… “You know anything about electricity or energy?” she whispered. “This realm is made from energy. In the universe, just like on Earth, energy can’t be created or destroyed. But it can be changed, right?” He nodded and followed when she started moving again, her limp exaggerated as she trudged through thick undergrowth. “Okay, so the realm is changing. I get that.” He stumbled. She didn’t slow down or turn to help him, so he righted himself and caught up easily. “Somewhere is the—” The ground shook again. A loud rumbling rolled past them. It sounded like thunder and it blasted through Kurt like a freight train. Mist barely slowed. “Somewhere is the origin. I feel it. Or maybe the end point.” Not that he was a coward or anything, but… “We’re heading for the end point?” Maybe she was a little crazy after all those years of being a Valkyrie. “You sure that’s such a good idea?” Still, he must have trusted her more than he thought because his pace didn’t slow.
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Kurt had trusted his instincts as a cop for years. But how did he feel about the instincts of a dead man? “No.” She shouted over her shoulder. “We’re heading to where the change happens.”
They had one shot to get out of this at best, and Mist’s plan was based on an educated guess. Boy would she love a ’lude right this minute. It would help calm her. Yeah. Calm her to the point she didn’t care what realm she was currently destroying. No. No more drugs today. As hard as it was to mentally kick oneself while running through the woods on a gimp leg, she managed. Had she been sober in the club to begin with, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation. Didn’t matter now. She looked back at Kurt. He was easily keeping up and not pushing past her as she made her way. Poor guy thought this was all his fault. She saw it written in the tightness of his jaw. She’d let him off the hook for that too. Once she found the source. She was feeling a little desperate. This world was coming apart. She knew they were getting closer, but she had no clue if they’d make it in time. They needed to not be the last thing on this Earth. They needed the force of the destruction—burning hot and strong like a volcano eruption—to use as a catapult. That was, if her theory was correct. She’d heard tales of ghosts or stranded souls using regenerated cosmic energy to break free of a realm and move on to the next life. But those were tales and this was reality—or as much of a reality as she could call her existence. A peal of thunder rolled over and through them once again. She felt the sizzle of energy in her scars, in her eyes, and a tingle of magic fire through the short spikes of her hair. It was close.
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Reaching back, she grabbed his wrist. “This time, no thinking! None. Got it?” A churning, chattering, scratching sound followed more thunder. Getting louder, growing. Her skin pimpled as if she were cold. It was coming toward them. Kurt nodded, his eyes full of fear. Certain he saw the same fear in her gaze, she took hold of his other wrist. “I will get you out of here.” Mist had not lost a warrior yet. She had no intention of doing so now. He nodded. “I believe you.” He meant it. She would have said more but the destruction was coming. She spun them around so Kurt was facing the direction they’d come from. No need for him to see the end of the world barreling down on them. It was scary enough for her, and she’d died a few times already. She gripped his wrists harder and could feel his pulse pounding. “Oh yeah!” His gaze never left her face. She smiled and winked at him. “Don’t let go.” He let out a very unenthusiastic grunt of a laugh and repositioned their hands until they were gripping each other’s wrists. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple and over a sideburn. “You hold on too. I want a chance to, ah…do that right. Nice and slow.” The end of his comment had to be yelled over the crunching and crashing of the destruction behind him. He started to look over his shoulder but Mist yanked his arm, making him maintain eye contact. Winds were whirling, pulling at their hair and clothes. It was getting stronger, like a hurricane she once sat through in Mexico just to feel what it was like. Only this time, the air stinging her face was empty, lifeless, yet as thick as smoke. She glanced—only for a second—away from his face, to the coming end. Her mouth fell open at the sight. A tidal wave of…nothingness, like looking into a mirror with nothing reflected back at you, washed over the landscape, shoving broken trees and giant stones forward,
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pulling other trees and the earth that nurtured them into the abyss. And this nothingness was plowing toward them with incredible speed. No changing her damn mind now. “Hold on!” she shouted…and closed her eyes. And the wave slammed into them. The force of it, the pain of the impact, shoved his weight against her body. She felt his fingers dig into her skin, holding on, gripping her as if his life—or hers—depended on it. But it was his soul she was concerned about. She called her magic as the realm splintered around them and she willed them to Asgard. Mist felt her magic as it tingled its way weakly through her body and his. But it lacked purpose, merely circling them, traipsing through their connection at the wrists and circling back to return to her chest. She could barely concentrate on anything as they tumbled, sucked in by the churning debris. She gripped Kurt tight as something big and hard slammed into her back. Then she felt them being pulled backward, as if caught under a wave in an angry ocean and the current was pulling them out to sea. A deafening crash, maybe an explosion, louder than any she’d experienced in all her battle experience, assaulted her ears. All the air she didn’t actually breathe still seared as it was pulled from her lungs. Her head felt like it was ready to implode. Suddenly she felt her body slam down hard. She’d hit ground. Mist opened her eyes. Stone. Metal bars. The rancid smell of burning oil. She drew in a breath. A real one. She was breathing. Alive and breathing and back in the dungeon. Her father’s dungeon. How was this possible? Where was Kurt? Mist looked down. Well-kept, dainty fingers dug into the fabric of her fine gown to steady frayed nerves. Laughter, cursing and the sounds of men being tortured echoed
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through the wide stone hallways. She was a young woman again, a helpless, terrified girl on the cusp of the ultimate betrayal. She tried to stand, to run, knowing what was coming, but her body didn’t react to her will. The girl she once was started weeping tears of fear and confusion. Mist could feel her terror but she couldn’t use her knowledge of the coming events to move her former self to act. Mist was a visitor in this body and, as such, merely a witness to the coming terror. Claudia, Mist’s twin sister, appeared at the bars and looked down on her with her usual vile countenance. The girl was as ruthless and evil as their father. How they were so alike in appearance and so different in temperament amazed her still. Claudia tilted her head and golden-blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder. “I am sorry, dear Elizabeth. But the page believes it was you—and you know our father.” Mist flinched at the sound of her given name coming from such traitorous lips. She had not been Elizabeth for a thousand years. But she was now. Elizabeth reached out to the bars of her dank cell with a shaking hand to pull herself from the floor. Panic rushed through her fragile body. “What? What have you done this time?” Once more, Elizabeth was to pay for the sins of her sister. A sinister smile crossed Claudia’s face and glee danced behind her sister’s eyes. “No, sister. What have you done?” Elizabeth looked uselessly around the cell for a way out. If her father had her in the dungeon for some offense Claudia had committed, she would suffer terribly. The man had never been in full command of his faculties, and where his daughters were concerned, he was particularly maniacal. She heard her father’s voice down the hall, in the stairs that led from the castle proper—and Andrew’s reply. Andrew would save her! She’d loved him since he’d arrived on their property at nine years old to be a squire to her father. Whatever lie Claudia was perpetrating, surely Andrew would defend Elizabeth. He loved her too. She knew it with all her 35
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heart, through she barely had the nerve to speak to him. She saw it in his eyes and his kind gestures. He’d even brought a flower to her once when she was reading in the courtyard, and kissed her hand. As these thoughts rushed through her former self’s mind, Mist groaned and lashed out at the misplaced trust she’d had in the people around her. And the wasted idea of love. He does not love you! Mist shouted the words, wishing she could leave this nightmarish rerun of her demise. One of the guards met the two men in front of her cell. “Sir Oliver.” The guard nodded. Her father was a big man who was intimidating even outside of his armor. He was respected as a noble knight. In this castle, though, he was feared as a mad man who was prone to fits of unprovoked anger and unimaginable violence. The crazed look in his eyes frightened both Elizabeth and Mist as he peered into the cell. Elizabeth stumbled backward until she hit the cold stone wall. The guard opened the door and entered the small room. Mist still wanted to help her younger self, but there was no way out for her. Even with a thousand years of training and knowledge, she was stuck trembling in fear of the two men who should be protecting her, loving her. “What do you say for yourself?” Sir Oliver’s voice was deep and commanding. Elizabeth could smell the mead on his breath. She was doomed. “I know not what you are asking, father.” She tried to straighten her modest dress in her nervousness. “Don’t act the lady in here!” He reached in past the guard and grabbed her by the wrist. She squealed as her father dragged her to the room they used for convincing men to tell their secrets. She’d been down here before. He’d used the chamber to frighten them into behaving, threatening his own daughters with the tortures he exacted on traitors and enemies. 36
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“I do not know what you speak of, father!” She looked over her shoulder. Andrew and Claudia were standing near each other but not touching. Claudia shrugged. “You were seen with my squire in the stable. If you wish to be a whore, I will send you to the inn and you can earn your keep there with your legs spread.” He nodded to two of the guards. They took her arms and pulled them behind her, pressing her against a large wooden post. “Father! There has been a mistake!” Her eyes darted back to Andrew. Surely he would tell the truth. “Andrew? Tell him this is a lie!” Andrew went down on one knee. “I am sorry, sir. I was unable to resist her charms. Over and over again she came to me, pressing her flesh to mine.” He bowed his head. “Please forgive me. I was weak from drink and overworked from our last sparring when I succumbed.” Mist braced herself for the feeling of betrayal as Elizabeth pieced together the events playing out before her. “Andrew?” she whispered. He did not raise his eyes to meet hers. He did not have to. Claudia’s smug face told the story. They had been caught together in the stables and they were going to let Elizabeth take the blame. She would be punished, possibly banished, and neither the man she had loved for eight years nor the sister she had shared her entire life with seemed to care. Her arms relaxed, no longer fighting against the guards who held her. “Child.” Her father’s voice could not bring her to look away from Claudia and Andrew. “What have you to say for yourself?” It did not matter. Andrew was bearing witness against her. Father would not take her word over his trusted squire’s. Andrew had lain with her sister. Heart broken, she could not care about what may happen next.
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There was no way out for Elizabeth. Mist felt the acceptance. She even cheered it. The choices were limited. She could be sent to the inn, used by every man in the village and any who passed through, or punished here. Her father’s idea of punishment was equal to torture. If she lived through it, she would be made unsuitable and then treated as a servant at best. Mist remembered the moment she’d decided her way out. It was when Andrew tilted his head up just far enough to look at her. He had no remorse in his eyes. No pity for the situation he’d placed her in. He had become every bit the evil knight her father was. Elizabeth turned her head. Her arms were still held, pulled tight behind her back. It would not take much to provoke Sir Oliver to violence in his drunken state. Claudia and Andrew had planned this well. “Your daughter is a whore, Father. But you are too crazed or stupid to see which daughter that truly is. We may look alike, but she is definitely of your ilk.” Elizabeth defiantly met his mad gaze as, enraged, her father raised a battle-axe. “May you both rot in Hell!” And she spat in his face. Mist watched as the dull blade split young Elizabeth’s chest. She could hear the sudden gasp from Andrew as her father reached into the wound and pulled out her still-beating heart. As Elizabeth’s life faded from her body, Mist reached for Odin, knowing he was coming. She felt the burning heat of death… But there was no Odin.
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Chapter Four All was silent and still. She felt weightless and cool. Not Asgard. It didn’t feel like anything. Mist took a moment to try to let the pain of betrayal wash away, but reliving it left the pain raw, as if it’d just happened yesterday. The distance of time was gone. She thought of Odin, and her boss Freyja, and tried to picture the warriors she’d shepherded over the years. Anything to push the images of her family from her mind. Had she jumped again? She felt a grip on one arm. Kurt. More recent events rushed to the forefront and, relieved, she shoved the ancient past to the side to deal with the urgency of the present. Mist opened one eye to see where they were. Kurt was looking around. But he was seeing the same nothingness she was, the nothingness that had overtaken them in the destruction of the previous realm. “Where are we?” he asked. “Nowhere.” There was no light, no dark. She still felt as if she were floating in that empty mirror. It looked like a silvery mist but without moisture. He kicked his legs and smiled. “Like, in space? There’s no gravity.” Mist let her head fall forward. “There’s no anything. Even space has physical properties. This has nothing. Keep one hand on me at all times. I have no idea how stable this is.” “How are we breathing?” He dragged in a long breath. She had to smile at him. “You’re dead. You no longer need to breathe. It’s just habit now. You could stop but you probably won’t. I’ve been doing it forever.” He let his gaze drift over her then wriggled his eyebrows. “You’re blonde. And naked.” His expression changed as his gaze met her chest. “And your tattoos are gone.”
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They were both naked. Mist looked him over. She’d not gotten to see him earlier since he’d not bothered to take off his clothes. His shoulders and arms were rounded and thick with muscle, his chest so perfectly shaped and with only a small bit of hair. His stomach was smooth and his bellybutton was an innie. She almost licked her lips at the sight of his chunky thighs. She was such a leg girl. She, on the other hand, now looked like a Barbie doll. And hated it. “Each Valkyrie was Created.” She heard her own heavy sigh. “Pulled from an unjust death by the ancient God Odin, very much like you were by me. Apparently Odin had a very specific idea of what a warrior might want for his escort. Some of the oldest Valkyrie figured out how, away from the Great Hall of Gods, to use a kind of personal spell so we don’t all look the same.” “Without the spell you all look like this, huh?” His gaze was darting from her face to her breasts, then to her stomach and back to her face. “Not exactly alike, but the tall, golden-Angel look was popular when I was changed over.” She shook her head and long tresses bounced over her shoulders. It reminded her too much of Claudia and her own former self. He traced over her heart and across her now pristine breast with a light touch. “The scars and tat—you make those stay with you on purpose?” He quickly looked at her face. “It suits you, really. All of it. Way more than this. Just curious.” “The scar…it’s how I died. How I lived.” She stiffened, trying to keep the newly revived memories from showing on her face. He put his palm on her chest, over the spot where a heart once beat. “Who tore your heart out?” Kurt’s voice was full of concern, pity. That hurt. She didn’t want pity from him. She shouldn’t want anything from him. But Kurt Stone made her want all kinds of forbidden things. Things she’d sworn off the day of her death. And the Valkyrie Vow had made that even easier.
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She bit the inside of her lip to stop the tears threatening to flow. Not now. Not ever. But Kurt deserved an answer. “My father.” His face showed the expected horror for only an instant. He covered it up well but was at a loss for words. “I need to figure out what I’ve done here.” She looked around again. The business of getting them out of this place would serve as a great distraction. The entire vast area was nothing. Felt like nothing. It held no energy, no air—and she saw no way to get them out of this situation. “Fuck.” He smiled wickedly and offered the exact words he had the last time they’d landed in a wonky realm. ”We could.” She inwardly thanked him for letting the conversation about her past drop and sucking all the tension out of the…space. “I mean we are fucked. This is it. For. Ever.” She did send one small plea for rescue to Freyja, the leader of the Valkyrie, knowing it would go unheard through this timeless place. They must be in Oblivion. She had no magic to send the S.O.S. “Hm. I think I like the dark, tattooed,” he traced the outline of her ear, “and pierced you better.” His touch tickled and sent a rash of shivers down her spine. The weightlessness let the sensation travel all the way to her toes. He didn’t look to be the least bit concerned about hanging out in the middle of nowhere for eternity. For the moment. “Really?” “Yeah. Really.” He rolled his shoulders. “This is a strange sensation. Floating, but not really feeling like I’m floating. It’s different than water. Easier.” She’d been suspended in a strange realm before. But not here. Not lost and stuck with no magic. Kurt may not be panicking, but she was starting to feel the icy fingers of fear reaching for her as she considered their reality. He had no idea what “eternity” meant. Mist had managed a thousand or more years. It wore on you after a while, and she’d had plenty of changes in scenery to help.
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Previously, Mist had wondered why the Valkyrie jumped around in time. Going from pre-Christian Rome to post-WWIII guerrilla warfare, past to future, losing track of what was present and what was past. Always seemed as if it’d be easier to hang out and grab all the valiant from one place at one time. Now she figured this made better sense. It alleviated, if only slightly, the constant feeling of time passing them by. Of being timeless. Kurt’s face was so freaking handsome. At least there was that. And she owed him something. “We’re here forever, Kurt. I fucked up.” The hand not gripping her wrist was still resting on her chest, his fingers at the base of her neck. “I shouldn’t have wished us alone—” “No.” She stopped him. It was time to fess up. “I was messed up. I thought landing in that city, outside that bar, I’d mis-jumped and took the opportunity for a mini vacation. I was due. Rarely am I called on in a normal urban setting, outside a warzone.” A lock of shiny hair fell in her face and she pushed it behind her ear. She hated it that long. “I’d popped plenty of pills. Takes a few to trip when you’re immortal. You shouldn’t be here. You didn’t deserve this. If you had, you wouldn’t have been marked. I failed you.” “So we screwed each other?” He chuckled. “I thought a junkie would be the end of me, but this isn’t exactly what I thought the end would be. Hot chick in space.” Ha ha. “Not exactly the end.” How long would his humor last?
For an instant, Mist looked as if she’d shatter if Kurt touched her, her facial features as delicate as a flower crafted from shaved ice. His hardened Reaper seemed to be feeling something close to affection. And if she could show some affection, she had a heart. Whether she believed it or not was another matter. A hard case, this one. As hard as any he’d seen on the streets while working undercover. He’d kept that horrid job for one reason. He believed he could make a difference. And now, he still did. 42
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“Hey. Why don’t we get married?” The words came from his lips without a second’s hesitation. Her head fell back and she laughed. Hard. So hard, tears streaked down her face and she grabbed her side. It didn’t hurt his feelings at all. The sound of such glee made him smile, even though the lack of an echo reminded him of their unreal circumstances. After several long minutes, she gathered herself and used her free hand to wipe her face. “Oh man. That was funny.” She shook her head. “Thanks.” Not feeling defeated in the slightest, he waited until she was composed then pulled her closer, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. Her expression changed. He recognized the desire, but there was a hint of something else in those eyes. It looked like a sad longing. She blinked and it was gone and nothing but fire remained. His body got instantly happy about its current position and all the soft flesh it felt. “We’re out here until forever. We might as well be married.” She licked her lips and her free arm snaked around his neck. “I’m not allowed marriage. No relationships. Rule number three—make a clean break.” He leaned over and inhaled the earthy scent of her skin at the base of her neck. His cock reacted again. He pressed it hard against her hip. “Number three, huh?” He felt her nod. Her body trembled just a tiny bit. “How many rules are there?” “Three.” He smiled against her collarbone before pressing a little kiss on the delicate area. “Ah. I think you’re out of a job, Mist. My guess is you can ignore those rules.” She nodded again. “It’s…just…been a long time.” He wanted to know what made her push away. What frightened her. “Long time since what?” He kissed her there again, enjoying the taste of her skin. “Since being with someone when I was sober.” Her body shook harder.
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Kurt looked again at the gaping emptiness around them. He could see perfectly, as if it were an overcast day back home. “What happens if we let go?” She shrugged. “Drift apart and spend eternity inside our own heads.” Her voice was still a little shaky. “So we’re stuck together. Why not marry me?” he whispered, and kissed the bottom of her chin several times. He meant it. He didn’t want to let her go even if they found a way out of this emptiness. “Are you expecting the picket fence and the family, Kurt?” She shivered again as he let his head dip down to place a gentle kiss on her nipple. The one now without the scar and tattoo. Her skin was warm on his lips. “Nah. I just always wanted to be married. Really, though, it’s just this…” He kissed her nipple again, sucking it into his mouth and loving the taste of her. He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. “Neither one of us ever had a chance at a real life. A normal one, anyway. We deserve it—a little happiness. Even if it’s born of destruction. That’s why I wanted you so much when I died…um…woke up. I still feel that. I want you. Want to know you.” “You lost your mind?” She shook her head. But he saw into her. Past her exterior. She wanted too. “Valkyrie don’t marry,” she said. “I don’t even have a heart.” “We’ll see about that.”
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Chapter Five “Death has made you crazy.” What did she know about the long-term effects of traumatic death? Mist scooped men up and tossed them where they belonged. Maybe they all went a little crazy when life’s battle was over. For her, it was generally a very tidy thing. She loved that about the job. There had been instances when she’d barely uttered a word to her charge. They’d simply listened to her spiel and made their decision. He kissed her chin again. Why did he keep nibbling on her neck and chin? It was driving her absolutely out of her mind. “Uh-huh,” was all he muttered as he left the curve of her jaw behind and descended on her ear. Now that there were no piercings, it was all naked and easy for him to suck the lobe into his hot mouth. And she cared about this one, too. But why? In a thousand years she’d not cared about anyone, even herself. Especially herself. She wanted to push him away and have a minute alone. Think all this through. But that was out of the question. He’d float away and she’d lose him forever. Him and the tip of his wonderfully talented tongue, which was now teasing her ear. How did he know that would make her all mushy and girly? His hands slid down her back and gripped her ass, pulling them closer, his hot, hard cock pressing into her hip. She let her head fall against his chest. It was a sign of surrender. She knew it. Her body relaxed and she let it meld to his shape. No others forces were at work between them. No gravity pulling them to the ground. No external heat source to affect their bodies. Everything she felt, from the searing flesh on her hip to the gentle coolness of his breath on her shoulder, was generated by the two of them.
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He smelled of wild grasses in a summer field. Gooseflesh tumbled down her back, ending only with the heat of his hands where they held her ass. She felt a tiny spark of internal magic from his closeness. Maybe he wasn’t entirely human. Not that it mattered. He was the last person she’d see and she knew the end here. Only one way to survive nothingness for eternity, and insanity was best suffered alone. She promptly ignored that reality for the moment. His fingers pulled her ass cheeks apart slowly and then kneaded them back together, making it hard to keep her train of thought. She spread her legs a bit, enjoying the sensation of being naked and exposed while floating in this strange nothingness. She felt her moist lips pull apart. He lifted his head and gave her a strange look with a crooked little grin. He cupped her mound and slid two fingers between her folds, gave a few rubs to her clit. She pulled her thighs even farther apart, giving him full access. She let her head fall back as his fingers made their way into her, plunging deeply. As he worked those fingers in and out, he watched her face. It was intensely personal, and she had to force herself not to close her eyes or turn her head away. The lack of gravity immediately became an issue. As he thrust his fingers, she was pushed away. Nothing to stabilize them. So he improvised. One hand gripped her ass, pulling her toward those naughty fingers as they fucked her. How could he take her from sensible and serious to senseless and shattering in a matter of seconds? Hands on his shoulders, she thrust back, cheering on a wave of orgasm as if it might be her last. And here it was, her favorite moment. Those few seconds when she knew she was about to blow. That intense, body-clenching euphoria was as good as it gets. Better than the event, in her mind.
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She was clutching his shoulders tightly enough to leave marks with her nails. Once again, she hadn’t taken the opportunity to explore his tantalizing body or that lovely cock. Shit. “Come.” It was a command whispered into the nothingness—and it worked, as if he’d pushed some button inside her brain. She squeezed her muscles and gripped his fingers. The sultry sensation of Kurt stroking her hard made its way to her toes and back up to her head as her body exploded. The weightlessness of her surroundings and the lightness her body felt after orgasm were a strange cocktail. Mist felt as if she’d chewed up and swallowed a handful of her happy pills. Except nothing from her little bag of magic medicine made her feel this silly. She giggled. It was outrageous. And if she hadn’t felt so good, she would have been furious over it. Later, she’d be mad. Right now, she wanted to wallow in this euphoric swell of new-to-her sensations. Not that she hadn’t come in the last century—she had. But not sober. She’d been careful to contain her sexual activities to nameless, faceless beings, and always during her brief highs. This was different. And the fear that her past could contaminate anything resembling real human connection seemed, well…as ridiculous as being stuck in oblivion with one of her warriors. “Such a sexy smile.” The quiet words pulled Mist from her musings and made her smile even more. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember believing anyone’s compliments. Everyone had motives in Asgard. Even the other Valkyrie. Kurt kissed her breast as he continued his slow finger fucking. She was still moving her hips in unison with those fingers. She could come again so easily, but she wanted something different right this moment. “Spin me around,” she ordered with as much tease in her voice as she could muster in her relaxed state. Kurt looked up from her breast and repositioned her, turning her body as if changing the time on a life-sized clock. She was hanging in space, her face level with his 47
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belly, her feet above his head. Her hair didn’t even fall out of place. In any other realm this would be impossible. She slid her hands over his hips and back up his torso, feeling the tight skin pulled over tighter muscle. Man, this guy was a masterpiece of engineering. While her body had reverted to what Odin had created for her upon her death, Kurt’s was as it had been when he’d died. He was scarred too, a long one that ran over the ribs on his right side and ended almost at his hipbone. She let her gaze inspect him from her upsidedown position. His cock was standing at attention, pointing up at her face. Mist smiled again. She pulled herself closer to his body so she could reach out and touch the tip of his cock with her tongue, run it around the rim oh so lightly. He gasped as soon as her flesh met his. His grip on her calves tightened. She looked up at his face. He was waiting, watching…anticipating what she was going to do next. She had to laugh, out loud no less. She got a mental picture of how the two of them would appear to onlookers. Not that there were any, but… Kurt holding her calves, dangling her body as if he were holding up a prize fish for a photograph. It was strange. From her angle, it was upside down and strange. She liked things a bit different, but this was bordering on silly. Why was she so damned giddy? He scowled. She laughed again. “No worries, tough guy. I’m grinning at the mental image of this position. Not your…um…equipment.” She grasped his cock and pulled herself even closer to his body. To prove her point, she took the head into her mouth and sucked, pulling more of his shaft into the wet warmth. He replied but she couldn’t make it out. Didn’t care anymore either. She felt her legs being pulled apart and then Kurt snaked his arms around her waist. Her pussy was right under his nose and his lovely cock was right at her lips. Thoughts of ice-cream cones danced in her head as she gripped his base. She pulled back and teasingly flicked the underside of his head. His hips jerked and he repeated the identical motion with his tongue, swishing against her clit with the same rhythm and pressure. A game of sorts, and she was willing to play. 48
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“Who caves first?” she whispered against the heated flesh of his cock. He groaned. “We’ll see.” She took just the head of that thick cock into her mouth and ran her tongue in very slow, deliberate circles. His hips tried to mimic the motion. She wasn’t sure if it was intentional or involuntary, but when he sucked her engorged clit into his mouth and circled the needful thing with his tongue, her hips moved too. Nothing to brace against and no gravity to pull at them, their bodies moved with the natural tempo of pleasure. This wouldn’t take long for Mist. He’d already whipped her body and brain into a frenzy that she’d not fully recovered from. She needed to do something to push him over the edge. She reached between his legs and gripped his taut balls, squeezing. She felt his thighs and butt clench. He quickly reciprocated and pushed two fingers into her pussy, working them in and out and matching the tempo of his tongue. Shit. She was going to lose. She inwardly laughed. Didn’t care. She wanted to come again and again. She felt his cock swelling larger still in her mouth. He was close, but she really didn’t want him to come. Not yet and not this way. She took him as deep as possible and then suckled and pulled back, creating as much of a vacuum on his cock as she could with her lips. He groaned and she felt the vibrations of it through his cock. Then he cheated. He slipped one of those fingers out and used the moisture from her dripping pussy to trace the rim of her ass—and before she could respond, he pushed it into her tight hole. “Shit!” She gripped his hips as she felt the wave start. He kept taunting her clit as he fucked both her pussy and ass with his fingers. She was overwhelmed. The orgasm rocked her with a frenzied onslaught of gluttonous ecstasy. Her toes curled. Her hair would have curled if she’d had any control over the long shit. In her delirium, she didn’t even feel him reposition her, but suddenly his cock teased her opening from behind. 49
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“I won.”
Kurt hesitated a few seconds to enjoy the view. He’d won. On so many levels. Eternity may be too long to spend connected at the hip, but right now, looking at the woman before him, it looked pretty fucking good. “Yes, you did.” She looked back at him. This wasn’t exactly doggie-style—no floor to kneel on—but she could bend forward or straighten almost upright at will. Right now she was bent slightly forward. He held tight to one of her hips and pushed her farther, bending her more, giving him a beautiful view of her ass. He pushed into her wet pussy slowly. Her flesh was still throbbing from her orgasm. “God, that’s good.” She tried to reciprocate but she had no purchase, no way to push back. She could only take it from him. And he liked that thought. He pounded harder, using the grip on her hips to move her back and forth, watching the flesh of her ass move each time his hips pressed against her, each time his cock buried deep. Her tight hole was right there, too enticing to ignore. He knew it might send her to the edge, and maybe him too, but he wanted to hear her scream in pleasure. He reached around and traced his finger over her clit, gathering plenty of her juices. She moaned as he teased her clit Kurt slowed his pace when he tormented her little hole. She tried to push against his finger, open farther for him, begging with her body for him to plunder. “Little hottie wants it all, huh?” Mist nodded her head and looked back at him. She was sweating, her face flushed. The musty scent of sex filled the space around them. Her eyes were desperate. “Yes. I do. I want it all.” Somehow he thought she meant more than the sex, but his cock was about to burst so he concentrated on the moment. They had eternity to discuss deeper needs. He
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pushed one finger in, up to the knuckle. Her back bowed, pressing her pussy closer, burrowing him to impossible depths in her warm heat. Kurt pushed her body away from his very slowly, withdrawing tiny bits at a time, both his shaft and his finger. She moaned long and low. He pulled her back, burying himself to the hilt again, and she took in a deep breath. He repeated the motion two more times before sliding another finger into her curvy ass. She let out a sultry, primal howl and he felt her muscles grip him, both his buried cock and his fingers. He pushed them deeper to increase the pressure as Mist came. He held her there, fighting to prevent his own release, but as her body milked his cock, he lost the battle and exploded. He came so hard, he feared if he let go he’d shoot her across the abyss. They floated for a while in quiet silence. He pulled her body up until her back met his chest. His cock slipped from her warmth and he held her close. She was pliant, sated. He ran his fingers through her hair as her head rested on his chest. He looked out into nothingness. Now that the urgent desire to fill Mist had been fed, he thought about the situation a little more critically—and the thought of forever crashed in on him. “Do you have any sense of time?” He felt her stiffen. She didn’t look up. “In general, or now?” “Either? Both?” She turned to snuggle closer and pressed her palm to his chest. “Your heart no longer beats, your blood no longer flows and you no longer breathe or need to eat unless you will it so, Kurt.” She took in a long breath and let it out as a sad sigh, as if to prove her point. “But your mind, your soul…whatever it is that keeps us what we are…it never shuts down. We don’t even need to sleep.” The gray nothing was closing in on him. It was becoming very daunting. Stuck out here, floating forever. “Kind of sucks.” He felt overwhelmed by it all—the situation, his death and the woman in his arms. What had she seen throughout her life?
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Surely far more than he could imagine over a thousand years of immortality.
Mist felt him pulling away. He had yet to let go, but their bodies hadn’t even cooled from the emotional sexual experience they’d just shared and his mind was already exiting the building. She was profoundly surprised at how much pain it caused. Her father had said she was unworthy of anything many times in her life. He’d beaten that lesson into her over and over. Then Andrew, the one person she had trusted in, loved, intentionally watched her die an awful death. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the images from the recent revival of those feelings. She’d vowed to never love again. To never trust. And here she was, letting herself feel for Kurt. And fuck, despite that hurt and betrayal and the vow she’d kept for years, Mist now wanted things she knew she couldn’t have. She’d shut off the want for so long, she didn’t even see it coming. She wanted Kurt, and as more than just a sex toy for the moment. She’d known it when he’d died. It wasn’t just the strange connection she felt to him, it was something she saw in his eyes, felt from his essence. How had she let herself feel that? She struggled to pull out of his grasp and he loosened his hold. She braced her foot against his stomach—and shoved off. “Mist?” He reached for her foot, his fingers grazing the bottom of her left one. The touch she would forever feel. “What the hell are you doing?” “I feel you pulling away.” Her rabbit kick had pushed them several yards apart. He leaned forward, tried to swim toward her in the nothingness. His face was scrunched and angry. “What? Come back here!” He was making a little progress in her direction.
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“Insanity will take us eventually. It’s better this way. Better to be alone.” She knew she was right. She could never trust anyone with her heart again. “I doubt that.” He was still swimming his ass off in her direction but moving only inches at a time. His body really was very nice to look at. That ass was just amazing and she was suddenly having a harder time convincing herself to let go. “Stay with me, Mist.” He stopped struggling. “I need you.” And she needed him. That was the suck of it all. “I can’t.” “You can’t what?” Trust. Love. Feel. All of it, and she did not want to tell him. It didn’t matter. The Valkyrie rules were very clear. She needed to concentrate on the situation at hand. If she’d had a ’lude, she could figure her way out this, drop him in Asgard and get back to her life…afterlife. “What’s your real name?” His words echoed through the nothingness as no others had. She couldn’t have sucked in air had she needed to. No one, in over a thousand years, had ever asked that question. Mist hadn’t spoken the name aloud since her death and her recruitment into the service of the Valkyrie. He reached out his hand. “Your name?” His eyes were so gentle and caring, it hurt her to look into them. “You have to trust me.” What if she could? If she let it happen, would it backfire on her again? He paddled a little closer. “We’ll go crazy together. It’ll be more fun that way.” He smiled slightly. “Your name?” Real, non-drug-induced emotion was pouring through her and Mist’s body was physically reacting. Pain, anger, hurt, joy, passion. She felt them in waves. Feelings she’d spent centuries trying to avoid. She shook her head. Maybe she was going crazy already. Maybe time passed much faster than she’d perceived in this place. 53
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It occurred to her that if she was crazy, then nothing really mattered, did it? She could have what she wanted for once. She looked in his eyes and at his outstretched hand. It would be really easy. All she had to do was reach for him. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Elizabeth.” The tips of his fingers hooked with hers. He pulled them closer together. “Hello, Elizabeth.” The words sounded foreign but she didn’t have time to worry over it. Vibrations suddenly rippled through the nothingness and pressure forced them even closer together. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. “What now?” he asked, but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not really caring. Her ears rang as the nothingness seemed to disappear around them, sucked into some vacuum she couldn’t see. The sound of existence dissolving was deafening. It was her last chance to save him. If she could muster enough of her magic, she could send him on. At least get him closer. Rule number three—make a clean break. No matter what it meant for her. She called to the Source, to her magic. Felt it swelling in her stomach. She put her palm to his forehead. Felt the warmth of her magic, weak but there, doing its thing. The glowing mark appeared. Kurt gave her a confused look. “I need to protect us as best I can,” she lied, and put her other hand on his chest. “Thank you.” He gripped her hips. Those beautiful eyes widened. “No!” Tremors rolled over them. And when she felt as if her body was being sucked through a straw, she did what she was programmed to do. Asgard. “This may sting a bit,” she yelled over the fray. And it did.
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Chapter Six “I’m surprised she made it, to be honest.” It was Freyja’s voice. Mist was sure of it, although her boss’s normally dulcet tones sounded distant and oddly mechanically altered. “She’s a hard case.” The man’s voice was unrecognizable. The pain in Mist’s head was about to kill whatever was left of her being. She couldn’t move to even attempt to massage the pain away. She’d tried, and instantly realized the rest of her body was sharing equally in her brain’s agony. Everything hurt. Mist tried to scream. That wasn’t happening either and only triggered more searing pain. This time in her throat. “Being born again hurts, Elizabeth. Relax into it.” That voice she did know. Kurt. He was alive. Well, not really. But he was with Freyja, and that was a start. His touch soothed her. The pain started to ease. The ringing in her ears quieted to a small buzz. “There you are, dear.” Freyja tapped her on the head and the pain dissipated much more. Mist looked up at her leader’s flowing hair and blue eyes. The woman was the consummate Goddess. All golden and shiny without really trying. “Take a breath.” She did, and nearly choked. Sitting up, she grabbed her burning chest. It was real. Air was filling ancient, empty lungs. Kurt rubbed her back as the unknown man leaned in, inspecting her face. “You want this look? Or the disaster of a look you created?” He crinkled his nose. “I’m afraid I know the answer, but have to ask, you know?” She was confused. Kurt smiled. “I like the dystopian groove, if you ask me.”
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Mist nodded her head then realized she’d not taken a breath—and needed to! The air choked her again. “What the fuck is going on here?” she asked after a long coughing fit. Freyja sat beside her and placed a hand on her leg. The casual contact caused an immediate sense of calm to overtake Mist. It kind of pissed her off but there was no fighting it. Freyja gestured to the man in the white robes. “This is Ethos.” Crap. She was in trouble. Ethos was the producer of the cultures and states of being in Asgard. Mist dragged her gaze away from the big man and forced her attention back to Freyja. “He’s decided that you’re retired—discharged of duty, as of now.” She’d never heard of a Valkyrie being… “Fired?” Ethos was a grand, round man in sparkly, flowing robes. He chuckled. “Not at all. You have been decorated and honored for your service to Odin.” He shrugged, making his face wiggle, and waved his hand in a small circle. “More like excused.” He took a drink from a jewel-encrusted goblet. The throne behind him was sleek metal that twisted and turned all the way up to a grand ceiling. She was in Asgard, no doubt about that. The mixture of ancient and contemporary in the place often amused her. Her brain was clearing. Her body felt like more than just an empty shell. It was strange. And Kurt was sitting here. Mist put her hand on her tattooed chest. “It beats,” Ethos confirmed. “I’m human? Mortal?” “At the moment.” Freyja spoke softly but Mist didn’t miss the dire seriousness in her eyes. “If you wish to, you can remain so. We can send you to any time period.” She shrugged. “Or we can give you the same offer we did when you passed the first time.” Translation—remain a Valkyrie or stay here in Asgard.
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“You get three choices, I only had two.” Kurt leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You must be special.” “She has served longer than most,” Freyja said to Kurt, and then tilted her head to look at Mist. “You also suffered in your first life more than most of the valiant and honored warriors I charged you with protecting.” She put her hand on top of Mist’s. It was still on her chest, feeling that strange sensation of a heartbeat. “In the debacle your friend here created, you learned to let go and finally feel something for someone again—I felt it in the cry for help you sent me. It was a prayer for him and not a summons for your own assistance.” “I thought Odin fucking hated when he lost one of us.” Mist knew the rumors. She didn’t want Freyja to pay so she could be released. The look in Freyja’s eyes was impossible to read as she stood and paced toward a large window that had an impressive view of the ever-changing cityscape of Asgard. “I will worry over Odin.” Freyja crossed her arms. Odin’s temper tantrums caused tsunamis, earthquakes and hurricanes. Mist could only imagine what Freyja would do to soothe the oldest of the Gods. Mist let her gaze swing back to Kurt. He was wearing a strange teal bodysuit. He managed to pull it off somehow. “You must decide. You know the rules,” Ethos said. She was out of time. What had Kurt decided? “And on your own,” Ethos continued. Mist put her hand on Kurt’s chest. His heart was beating strong. Surely he was going back. Most likely to help the other officers his death had left vulnerable. Mist realized she would have done the same… “Mortal.” That one word set her free, and sent them both reeling through time and space with no further conversation.
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***** Mist opened her eyes as the beat in the club changed to a pulsing, sultry song that blasted through the room. She was dancing alone in the crowd. After a second, she realized that was okay—wasn’t it? She was alive. She had a second chance at life. And if she knew Freyja, she had a chance to save Kurt from his death. She spotted the door then scanned the room for the thugs who’d pulled him out of the club the night he’d died, but there was no sign of them. She had to find out if she’d arrived before or after his abduction by the drug dealers. Shoving dancers and one very upset waitress out of her way, she slammed through the door, the coolness of the night slapping her with an unusual amount of sensation. She scanned the parking lot, desperately trying to remember the location of his beating. She had to stop it. Hell, had to see if he had even come back to this reality. Who knew what choices he’d been given? She’d not had time to ask. But just in case… She ran to the right and around the corner of the building. The green Gran Torino was sitting there. She remembered the car. But it sat alone. She listened intently and heard nothing but distant traffic and the muted thumping of the music inside the club. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t here. She leaned her butt against the Torino and looked up at the stars. A breeze blew through her short hair. It was cold, and her brain was still a bit fuzzy. She pinched her eyes closed trying to focus and get past the lightheadedness. There was no body out here. If she’d been too late, there’d be a body. Unless he’d chosen to stay in Asgard. No. Back at the door, she pushed past the bouncer and into the noisy club. The pulsing music was far less appealing. The hanging cloud of smoke stung her newly activated
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lungs. She scanned the dance floor. No Kurt. She made her way toward the back of the club, eyes scanning the dark corners and crowded areas near the restrooms. Mist saw the redhead in the schoolgirl outfit by the ladies’ room door. If Hottie recognized her, then Mist had returned at a point in time later than the first jump with Kurt—probably too late. If not, maybe there was still time. Her chest hurt from the nervous pounding of her heart. She approached Hottie. The girl glanced up from her phone without much change in expression. “Thanks for the dance…and the diddle.” “Nice pussy.” The girl gave her a watery smile. “You interested in more?” She pushed away from the wall and almost fell into Mist’s chest. Her thick eye shadow, so perfectly placed when they were on the floor previously, was now smeared around bloodshot eyes. Hottie looked rather baked. Late-in-the-night kind of baked. It had to be much later. Mist really wished she wore a timepiece of some kind. She gently maneuvered Hottie back against the club wall. “Um. I’m good.” “Peace out,” Hottie said, and made a rather strange hand signal that Mist suspected was meaningless. Mist spun back to the dance floor. Odin’s balls, this time-travel shit confused the hell out of her! It felt like the bar was spinning. She was still weak but tried to focus on the lit exit sign above the door. If it was later, Kurt had to be outside and either he’d died again, and the bad guys had moved his body, or he’d busted the bad guys because he’d known what was coming. But if he was alive, where was he? A strong hand gripped her upper arm. “Shit!” It hurt. “Where’s your boyfriend?” The man leaned in so close Mist could smell his cigarette breath.
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One of the thugs from the alley. Shit! But he was looking for Kurt—which meant he was still alive! “What boyfriend?” She tried to pull away but the other thug, the one who’d previously killed Kurt, moved in behind her. Mist’s struggles only managed to make Thug One grip her flesh tighter. Man, if she were immortal, she’d tear this dude’s nuts off. But right now she was on her tippy-toes, trying to relieve the pressure on her biceps as he yanked her toward the front door. He jerked her particularly hard—right before she felt cold metal press into her skin, above the waistband of her skirt. Mist didn’t have to look to know it was the same gun that had killed Kurt. Now it looked like her turn. She could die again right here and she had no clue if Odin would show up to save her ass again. Doubtful. Thug One slung her back against the Gran Torino, one meaty paw grabbing the neck of her tee and ripping it halfway down her torso. This is not happening. Mist scrambled away from the car to face them, legs shaking. “He’s been blown out. We know.” Thug Two pointed the gun at her head. “Now you can die with him cuz I can only assume you’re a narc too.” He waved the gun at her chest. “Or you can give him up before I blast that tattoo and make all that blood and shit real.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Mist was scared. Really scared. Even when her father had killed her, she’d not felt this kind of fear. Where the hell was her freaking noble warrior now? She’d given up immortality only to live about fifteen freaking minutes before taking one to the chest? Odin would piss himself laughing at her weakness and then berate her for not kicking this guy’s ass. She glanced down at the ground. There were cigarette butts, blood spatters and a few empty shells. Shells that would fit the gun this thug was holding. What the hell…
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Mist felt an odd tingle in her toes and belly that reminded her of her old magic. It grew quickly. Her head burned as the ground shook a little. Mist put her hand to her forehead, felt the heat there and traced it with her fingers. It was a cross. “Oh shit.” “Now, bitch.” The thug poked her chest hard enough to make her stumble. “I ain’t got all night.” A flash of golden light suddenly exploded between them and a rush of power pushed the thugs back a few steps. Shield, another of Odin’s Valkyrie with a reputation for being a bit off-kilter, appeared with Kurt. He looked dazed from the jump, but otherwise unharmed. “Sorry. I got hung up. This guy has some really weird energy.” She shook Kurt. “Pulled me way off course.” Mist nodded and grinned. “Yeah. He does.” Shield let him go and brushed her hand over her thigh, as if to clean off Kurt’s energy. He stood on his own and blinked a couple times before giving her a silly grin. “Best of luck with the life gig.” Shield’s face didn’t convey the sentiment of her words. Probably thought Mist was nuts. But looking at Kurt, Mist was sure she’d made the right decision. Shield shimmered out of existence in an overdone light display. Show-off. Energized, Mist turned to one of the stunned thugs and executed a well-placed kick to his wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand. She landed another directly to the asshole’s nads. He went down hard, but his buddy took offense. He punched Mist, catching her square on the jaw. She saw little lights dancing in her peripheral vision and darkness threatened to take over. She stumbled back and fell onto the hood of the car. 61
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Kurt had regained his senses and was struggling with the second thug. The man was massive, and he and Kurt were rolling on the ground. The other was still cursing her about his balls as he sat up. He was looking for the gun. Mist saw it first—and lunged. The thug made an attempt, but with his bulk, he wasn’t exactly agile. Mist grabbed the weapon, rolled to her back and fired it at the top of his head as he grabbed her foot. The gun clicked. Empty. Mist remembered the shells on the ground. Time seemed to be all twisted. The thug grinned at her then tried to lunge forward. Fine. She smashed the handle down on his noggin. He looked up at her with a puzzled grin just before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his bulk dropped on top of Mist. By the time she’d rolled him off, Mist found Kurt finishing off the second one with a right hook to the jaw. The thug saw his buddy on the ground and rushed off into the night like a scared rabbit. Kurt rushed to her side and inspected her face. She winced when he touched her jaw. That might be broken. He kissed her forehead. “Hell of a first date, huh?” She nodded, too overcome to say anything. She just wanted to look at him for a moment and feel every emotion as a living, breathing human, without the influence of Odin’s magic. They felt pure, weighty. Frightening. “Let’s get you out of here.” He eased her to her feet and pulled her to his chest. After a moment, he tilted her head to look into her eyes. “You really gave up immortality for me?” “Yes. I did.” And she was still glad for it. She trusted he would always be there, would never betray her. 62
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Two police cars came down the street with lights and sirens going. Without looking back at the approaching cars, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Looks like my cover’s blown.” “Yes. It is.” She wanted to scream with desire and joy. “And you’re out of a job.” He kissed her again, this time a little harder, his tongue parting her lips and teasing her for a moment before pulling back. “I am.” He shrugged. “Suppose we can get married now?” Then he kissed her with all the passion they’d shared since she’d first seen him on the dance floor. He pressed her body to his as if he were afraid she’d disappear into shimmering lights as Shield had done. When he relinquished her mouth, Mist was unsteady on her feet, her heart racing and her body screaming for his. She felt a tear run down her face. “We need to at least have dinner together first.” “Fine.” Kurt once again kissed her gently on the lips. Then, before turning to face the approaching police officer, he smiled at Mist. “Dinner, then Vegas.”
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About the Author Mari Freeman lives, disguised as a normal suburbanite, in central North Carolina. When not penning romantic erotica, she enjoys horses, hiking, traveling, good food and friends. An outdoors girl at heart, you can often find her at the lake with laptop fired up, fishing line in the water and her imagination running wild. In her previous lives, she’s held an interesting array of occupations. She’s been a project manager, a software-testing manager, sold used cars, pumped gas at a truck stop and worked in a morgue. Mari’s favorite stories include Alpha females in love with even more Alpha males. She finds the clash of passionate, strong-willed personalities fascinating. She writes contemporary, paranormal and a little science fiction/fantasy.
Mari welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Mari Freeman Beware of the Cowboy Birthright Cougar Challenge: Sin on Skin Hot, Hard 1: Hot, Hard & Howling Hot, Hard 2: Hot, Hard & Hexing Love Doctor
Print books by Mari Freeman Birthright Cougar Challenge: Tease the Cougar Hot, Hard & Howling Plan for Pleasure anthology
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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