Valkyrie Reborn Page 10

  He accepted the invitation and sat like the mass-produced wooden seat was a throne.

  “And what are you a god of, Min?” Kirby asked.

  “Passion.” The word rolled off his tongue like silk sliding over her skin. “Life. Love. Exploration.”

  Pleasant shivers glided down her spine, mingling with the hint of fear she’d tasted when he approached. That last bit was the perfect amount of spice. Was he in her head, amplifying her desires? There were limits even to her self-destruction. If she was going to tumble into a pit of vipers, she was doing it of her own accord. “Are you influencing me right now?” If he was, it was similar to the trick Gwydion pulled with the police officers, but instead of changing Min’s appearance, it drove lust straight to her core.

  Min quirked an eyebrow. “Influencing? You’re quite direct, aren’t you?”

  “When the situation calls for it.”

  She didn’t miss the smirk that played on Gwydion’s face. That was sexy.

  “I’m not influencing you,” Min said. “Any deep, intense, carnal cravings you feel are your own.” He could be lying. Each time he spoke, she swore his tongue glided along the inside of her ear, whispering the words.

  She could still think, though. Not that she was listening to herself, but if he was trying to convince her of something, he’d erase her doubt, wouldn’t he? “I never said anything about carnal cravings.”

  “I’m a god of passion. Unless you’re concerned I might influence you to live.”

  A lump lodged in her chest, and a ghost ache stung in her wrists. That hit too close to home. Time to change the subject. “Do you two know each other?”

  “Sure. We hang out in the god club together. Play Texas Hold ’em on Tuesday nights. Never play strip poker with this guy. He likes to lose.” Gwydion winked and nodded at Min.

  A snort of laughter slipped out before Kirby could stop it. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “He only pretends to be intimidated by me.” Min leaned in. “Tell me, my huntress. What kind of woman doesn’t bat an eye at being approached by two men who say they’re gods?”

  The kind who was raised to kill the next generation of immortals. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve got that much spare faith to go around?”

  “Would you bend yourself over my knee if I told you I spank little girls who lie to me?” Min countered.

  Kirby’s imagination plummeted into the gutter, where she not only bent herself over, but she was also willingly bare-assed and begging him to use her when he was done. Fucking hell, she needed to get laid. But she wasn’t impressed by any asshole who thought he was owed her submission just because he demanded it. Especially with the rapid shift from casual conversation to ass-slapping. “Is this where you order me back to your room, so you can teach me how a good girl behaves?”

  “Never. This is where I earn your trust and respect, so I’m worthy of taking you back to my room. As for teaching... I don’t do that. I want you comfortable with the rules before we play,” Min said.

  Gwydion leaned in, mouth near her ear. “You don’t have to respect me first, as long as we both have fun.” His tone was playful.

  She hid her amusement better this time. “How much trust is possible if we’re all keeping secrets?”

  “As much as you give to any stranger you won’t tell your real name.” Min’s reply tugged at that same thread of fear inside. The one he evoked by being here.

  It was probably the best and worst response she could have. Her body was humming a lovely you only live once tune. “None of them have been gods.”

  “And yet, you’re still here.” Each time Min looked her over, another spike of heat flooded her body. But it was more than that. It was as though his dark gaze called directly to her soul.

  “Maybe I’m hoping for at least a little seduction.”

  Gwydion tapped the brim of the hat she wore. The one he’d given her. “Maybe this was never about seduction, and I just wanted to compliment you on your crown.”

  “This is where you listen to what your heart and body want.” Kirby recited his earlier response back at him. Not the whole thing, because the usually had her asking more questions than she was comfortable with. “There’s a lot more innuendo in those words than nice hat.”

  He grinned. “Fair point.”

  “Would you like to be wooed and seduced?” Min grazed his fingers along the back of her arm. His voice was deep and hypnotic. “I’ll tell you how stunning you are. How fierce and beautiful. That the sun rises on your smile and sets with your grief. That the ocean can’t compete with the vast potential I see in your eyes. That the finest porcelain could never compare to your skin. I’ll kneel at your feet and worship you until you sing. I’ll bathe you in oil and shower you in rose petals. I can tell you all of that, and you’ll know I mean every word. But you still won’t trust it or me.”

  “That’s a bit over the top.” But the compliments warmed her to her core. Talk about an ego boost. This setup was too convenient, though. There was no doubt they were hitting on her. “I feel like you’re steering me away from some subjects. Like, how the two of you just happened to be here at the same time, talking to a woman you knew wouldn’t pepper-spray you when you said you were gods.”

  “We were meeting down here regardless,” Gwydion said. “I saw the stunning woman from this morning, and thought I’d say hello. Strictly coincidence, us meeting here.”

  She believed him. The parts he didn’t gloss over, anyway. It bothered her a bit that she so easily trusted everything that came out of his mouth. That kind of naiveté got people killed. Or in her case, stripped of her rank, before being unwillingly saved from death.

  The reminder clenched in her gut, calling back to a past she was here to pretend didn’t exist. “What did you mean when you first walked up to me, by this is usually where...?”

  Gwydion worked his jaw up and down. “Do you want the truth, which is completely unbelievable, or a lie that you won’t accept because it’s not the truth?”

  “Surprise me.” Kirby didn’t know which would be worse, but apparently she wasn’t going to buy his answer either way.

  “Because you’ve lived more than a dozen lives before this one, and whenever we meet—you, me, Min—we always fall madly in love.”

  That was ridiculous. Completely ludicrous. Gods being real was one thing, but reincarnation was bullshit. If that were possible, the gods who ran TOM wouldn’t be so terrified of death. “I bet you say that to all the girls you meet under bizarre circumstances.”

  “That depends on how you define bizarre,” Min said dryly. He grasped her fingers, and heat rushed through her. “Nothing we say is going to convince you if you don’t want to be swayed.”

  What he said was true. So why did his touch, his voice, and the sincerity in his gaze make her pulse race and her heart pound and her panties damp? Because part of her did believe him—both of them—and that was terrifying.

  Then again, the fear was a little sweet, like marshmallows dipped in rock salt. She was down here to lose control and forget about the skeletons in her closet, and fucking two gods... That ranked pretty high on the Ideas so Bad They’re Good list. “Let’s push aside all the half-truths and back and forth for a minute, and admit this is about hooking up.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Promise me”—she looked at Min; he was the one who filled her with the most delicious trepidation—“if I go up to your room, you can hurt me all you want, but you won’t harm me.”

  Min cupped her cheeks between his palms and held her gaze. “I swear it, my huntress. I’ll mark you. I’ll own you. I’ll make you scream with pleasure and pain. But I will never harm you.”

  This was ridiculous. Was she really going to swoon and fall in line, just because he repeated her words back at her? Yes. Freya help me, she trusted every word he’d said.

  Starkad would blow a fuse if he found out she was being this kind of reckless. She was putting herself in dan
ger. She was ignoring everything her training taught her, because two hot men were flirting with her, and she was horny and frustrated.

  And Starkad had surrendered any right to an opinion on who she fucked or how.

  Chapter Thirteen

  5 Years Ago - Kirby

  Kirby felt like she was running through molasses. No matter how hard she pushed; her legs wouldn’t go any faster. Invisible hands snatched at her naked body—grabbing, scratching, leaving heavy bruises and deep cuts.

  Mark grabbed her arm, and a jolt of pain raced over her body. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone. Why couldn’t she make a sound? Every inch of her hurt, as though she’d been stabbed in the gut. Burned until she couldn’t breathe. Shot through the heart.

  “My favorite toy.” Mark flung her on her back and climbed on top of her.

  She hit the ground hard, but the impact was just another tick on the Everything Aches list. Being flayed alive would bring her less pain.

  Laughter rang in the air. Mark’s. Brit’s.

  Knives that weren’t there sliced her skin and peeled back the layers.

  Kirby pleaded with herself to wake up. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted this to stop.

  Her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a start. Her heart hammered behind her ribs and her pulse throbbed in her skull. As the nightmare faded, her room swam into view. But it wasn’t really her room. She was Starkad’s guest. Had she screamed? If so, he’d be here soon, to check on her.

  Part of her hoped he’d heard. He kept her sane after the dreams that haunted her every night. If he hadn’t heard... she had alternatives. Pain. External distraction. That was tempting too. There was a high that came with the slice of razors on her skin. A rush that nothing else could compete with.

  “Kirby.” Starkad’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, watching her with concern. “Tell me what you need.”

  It was their shorthand. She could choose to talk about it or be distracted. She could choose to go back to sleep, but that was the last thing she wanted. Closing her eyes invited terror she couldn’t fight. The one thing she couldn’t pick was him. He hadn’t held her since that first day, after he rescued her. Not that she expected him to, regardless of how much she wanted it.

  “A distraction.” Kirby forced the words out. Diving back into that fucked-up sludge of Freudian ubiquity was less appealing than... Actually, it sat so high on the shitty scale, she didn’t have anything to compare it to.

  He gestured toward the living room, and she followed.

  They’d been here for almost a year, tucked away in a medium-sized suburb, hiding from TOM. For the first few months after Starkad saved her life, she tried to get him to explain why he’d done it. After enough vague answers and obvious changes of subject, she gave up.

  She grabbed a controller off the shelf by the TV, flopped into the overstuffed chair she’d claimed as hers, and powered up the game system.

  Starkad raised an eyebrow, but he mimicked her movements, settling into his own recliner. It didn’t matter what game she loaded; he refused to play one on one against her. She wasn’t great at The Hoarde, but he was worse.

  So they played co-op. Shooting the heads off horde at fifty meters with a pulse rifle was the perfect way for her to forget her dreams. If she let him pick, he’d choose something like Monopoly or RISK, and he’d always win.

  “Map or campaign?” she asked when the loading screen was up.

  He selected his character. “You’re letting me pick? Mighty generous of you. Campaign.”

  “What can I say? I’m a benevolent overlord.” The light teasing was already chasing the shadows from her mind.

  They stepped into the mission and immediately fell into their pace. He’d scout, she’d sneak. He ran into the room and drew fire. She stood in the darkness and picked off the baddies.

  She still wondered why he’d given up everything for her. Not that she minded living with the literal object of some of her naughtiest fantasies, but that was her reason for appreciating the arrangement, not his.

  The first few months they were here, he’d watched her closely. The longer she went without any incidents he was aware of, the more he eased off on the observation. As he gave her more freedom, he told her she could make her own choices. She could stay. She could go. But if she intentionally did anything that put either of them in danger, he’d walk away.

  She didn’t think he meant it, but she was terrified of finding out. There was only one rule of his she couldn’t keep—the one where she was forbidden from hurting herself. The dreams consumed her most nights. People were wrong about one thing—when she died in her dreams, she always woke up after, wishing she hadn’t.

  If Starkad didn’t hear her, sometimes she’d wake him up. Other times, the clawing need for something else overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stay stuck in her own head, so she had to jar herself out. The razors tucked under her mattress were the solution. The first few times she’d done it, she wanted to find that same external pain she felt the night she almost died.

  Then she’d discovered something new. With the right pain and mindset, there was a rush of euphoria that came after. A high she could lose herself in.

  The crash sucked, but so did what came before the high, so she rode the buzz.

  On screen, their exploding Jeep drew her full attention back to the game.

  “Bam.” Starkad tossed his controller aside, and it landed on the coffee table with a clatter.

  She grinned and shook her head. “It’s thirteen grenades to fling us to the secret area.”

  “I used thirteen grenades.” His mocking tone was lightened by his smirk.

  She never lost count. “You used fourteen.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Stupid Easter egg. It’s just for a skull anyway.”

  “A skull that makes confetti explode out of people’s heads.” Kirby was kinder with her own controller as she set it aside. “I’m getting something to drink.”

  “Grab me one of whatever you’re having?”

  Kirby half-shrugged, half-nodded, and unfolded herself from her chair. She felt Starkad’s gaze on her back, as she headed into the kitchen. The lightweight shorts and camisole she slept in were for comfort, but she didn’t miss or mind the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  She grabbed two sodas from the fridge. Alcohol had never been a temptation. It churned in her stomach and made it harder to fight the demons. When she returned, she made a totally obvious display of bending at the waist, to set his drink on the table in front of him. Her reward was worth it. His gaze dropped below her neck, to where her top dipped low.

  When he frowned, hurt slid in.

  She straightened quickly, and turned away, heat burning up her neck. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d pushed too far. He didn’t see her like that. Why did she dare think differently?

  Starkad grabbed her wrist hard, drawing a gasp and yanked her to a stop.

  Her pulse hammered in her ears. Was he interested, after all?

  “Where did the cuts come from?” His soft question was heavy with disappointment.

  Desire plummeted into humiliation. She jerked away and hugged herself. “What cuts? Nowhere. There are no cuts.” She couldn’t face him.

  “Kirby. Look at me.”

  She couldn’t ignore the command. As she turned, she studied her arms and how they crossed over her chest.

  Starkad placed a finger under her chin and raised her head. Concern, not judgment, stared back at her from warm blue eyes. “Where did the cuts come from?”

  A wave of lies rushed to the tip of her tongue, but none of them sounded legitimate. Even if she could come up with something realistic, she couldn’t lie to him. “I... They distract me. When the memories are too much. When it hurts too much.” Humiliation burned through her. He was going to kick her out now. Tell her she was worthless and weak, and force her to find her own way.

  “We need to find you another way t
o cope.”

  We. She didn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the word. “Like what?”

  “Therapy. Talking to someone.”

  Damn him for sounding so kind about the whole thing.

  “I can barely talk to you. And what am I supposed to tell a therapist? A bunch of gods trained me to be a killer, and now I’m tortured because my girlfriend didn’t love me after all?” She pulled away from his touch.

  “I can find you someone who will understand. And you don’t need to trivialize it. This is hurting you. There are ways to make it stop.”

  “I found a way, thanks.” She spun on her toe and stalked from the room. She couldn’t do therapy. Telling someone what she’d been through? Reliving it, even through words? It was hard enough doing that in her sleep. Saying it aloud would rip her to shreds.

  Besides, she could deal with trauma and pain. She was strong. She’d cope.

  STARKAD

  Starkad was lost. He didn’t know how to help Kirby. She slept with her door locked now, and even when she did wake up screaming, she refused to let him in.

  During the day, dark shadows hung under her eyes, and her skin was pale. That was if he saw her. For weeks after he discovered the marks on her skin, she went out of her way to avoid him.

  He hated everything about this. What they’d done to her. Seeing her become a shell of his former student. Knowing this wasn’t the Valkyrie he’d fallen in love with, but adoring this new, younger woman even more. And having her be just out of reach.

  He had a solution, but he didn’t dare suggest it. He’d done it a few times, before TOM, when Starkad was helping Gwydion deal with his demons. It was unconventional, and it was intense. But with her, it would hold a different meaning. He didn’t know if he could ignore the temptation that would come with redefining her relationship with pain.

  It had been almost a month since he confronted her, and she’d all but stopped eating. She spent most of her time hiding in her room.

  The screams were louder tonight than they’d been since he and she first got here. And they didn’t stop. Each time she cried out, it sliced straight to his heart.