Dreams of a Dark Warrior
Page 37

Don't forget to do that." He pulled another beer from his pack. "Going to see if my girls are thirsty." He trudged ahead to join Regin and the fey.
Brandr seemed resigned to Lothaire's plan, but added, "If this works, Chase, you still can't kiss her."
"Because her lips drug men? Is that even true?"
"Aidan once admitted to me that her lips were like a drug, but I don't believe he meant literal y. Hel , you two were locked at the mouth most of the time. However, I do think it makes you remember your past life sooner."
The idea of losing himself to Aidan's memories no longer sounded so bad. Especial y if Declan's
memories of torture, of addiction, of hurting Regin would all fade. Instead, he'd remember what it was like to be respected by his men rather than feared, to be adored by Regin rather than hated. "You truly believe in this curse?" Stranger things had happened in the Lore, but Declan had been cursed before and knew how it felt. Wouldn't he sense his impending doom now?
"I've seen it happen too many times," Brandr said. "So no kissing her, and no berserkrage with her. And by no means can you claim her."
Not claim her? If that Valkyrie parted her thighs and actual y wanted Declan between them ...? "Boyo, understand me"-his gaze pinned Brandr's-"if I get a chance with her, I'm f**kin' takin' it."
Chapter FORTY-THREE
Is someone out there in the dark? Regin's ears twitched. Watching me?
She still ed in the water of the stream she'd found not far from their camp.
With narrowed eyes, she scanned her surroundings-a marshy plateau cradled high in the mountains. Here the stream widened into a chest-deep pool before spil ing over into a waterfall.
Her sword and her recently washed clothes were laid out on a nearby boulder, a mere lunge away.
A second passed. Then another. Could just be the misting rain that continued to fall.
She continued her bath, scrubbing sand over her arms in agitated swipes, fearing she might be on the verge of introspecting again.
The unmerry band of six had traveled all afternoon and most of the night, but had decided to break till dawn. Though Regin was good to go-her chest had healed completely-Brandr, Chase, and Natalya needed to eat, were out hunting right now.
And Thad had begun to flag. Three beers hadn't helped him. He'd grown maudlin, missing his family, friends, and school. Regin had told Natalya, "The kid needs to be drinking blood, not suds."
The fey had replied, "Are you offering, Valkyrie?"
No matter how much Regin liked Thad, she wasn't ready to tap a vein for any vamp. Not hating a vampire was one thing; fil ing an empty beer can with your blood to feed one was another. ...All afternoon, Chase had been ignoring her, just as he had when she'd been in that cel . Unable to stand it, she'd taken Brandr aside, demanding to know what the four males had talked about. He'd shrugged and said, "Ask Declan." She'd smacked Brandr on the back of the head and stormed off.
But she couldn't stop thinking about Chase, about the scars he'd revealed to her. They'd looked old, which meant he must've been young when he'd gotten them-
The memory that had tickled her consciousness the night before finally surfaced, and she recalled the picture he'd shown her of the couple who'd been eaten alive by Neoptera.
Those curling, deliberate wounds the man and woman had suffered matched the distinctive shapes of Chase's scars. She remembered the ragged tone of his voice, the knotting of his shoulders. The way he'd pounded his fist on the desk.
A gasp left her lips. They were his parents.
Declan Chase's mother and father.
Had he watched the Neos devouring his family as his own flesh was stripped?
The couple had been middle-aged. Which meant Chase had been young when the creatures had ...had fed on him. She shoved the back of her wrist against her mouth.
He must've barely survived. How terrified he had to have been.
She gazed at the cloudy night sky. Yet just because she could understand his motivations didn't mean she could forgive his crimes. He might have had nothing to do with her vivisection, but he'd still tortured her, he'd still brought her and her friends to this hel -on-earth island as his prisoners.
Had MacRieve and Carrow even made it out of the facility alive? Was that vemon Malkom Slaine out stalking the witch and her ward? Regin had faced a vemon in the past and was lucky to have escaped with her life. They were phenomenal y strong and fast. If Slaine wanted revenge, then who could possibly protect Carrow?
And because of Chase, Regin had been kept from Lucia. She had no idea how her sister was faring out in the world. Would Lucia be foolish-or desperate-enough to face Cruach alone?
Regin ducked her head under the water. What would she want with Chase anyway? There was no happily ever after with him. He scorned immortals. As of yesterday, he was a jobless, homeless drug addict, with a target on his back the size of the entire Lore.
And that was if he lived. If they didn't kiss or have sex. Otherwise he'd kick it before anyone in the Lore got a chance to off him-
She still ed when she sensed Chase nearing. Couldn't ignore me for long, eh, Paddy? She peered over her shoulder, found him standing at the edge of the water.
Without his cuffs. Damn it, Brandr.
Then she frowned. Chase's mien was determined, his dark brows drawn together over his blazing gray eyes.
Determined to do what?
His pul over sweater and pants seemed tighter on him. As if he'd grown over the day, which made no sense-
He grasped the bottom of that pul over to remove it. Does he think he's coming in with me?
"Pool's taken. Run along, Chase." He didn't, so she opened her mouth to deliver a caustic chew-out. The words died on her lips when he dragged the sweater over his head, revealing his flexing torso.
His scars seemed to be stretched flatter than when she'd seen them last night, as if his chest had grown. As she surveyed his torso, she found herself staring as much at his sculpted slabs of muscle as she was at the scars covering them.
Rock-hard ridges descended to the low waist of his camo pants. Her gaze dipped to his flat navel, then to his goodie trail. And lower ... She swal owed. He'd begun stiffening in those pants.
She yanked her gaze up, determined to look at anything else. Around his neck he wore dog tags, and a big, butch military watch was strapped to one brawny forearm. With the combat boots, low-slung pants, and tacticool accessories, he looked good. Even scarred, he looked better than good.
Was he gorgeous, like the original Aidan had been? No. But he was intriguing.
And right now, Chase looked like a man who knew what he wanted and who was on the cusp of taking it.
Magister Chase, the man, was ... sexy.
When he sat on a nearby boulder, pul ing up one knee to unlace a boot, that eight-pack of his rippled.
She watched with a reluctant fascination as he removed both boots.
Then he stood, his hands at the fly of his pants, pinched fingers tugging down his zipper. She was going to tell him to stop. Any second.
Shoulders back, he let the pants drop, stepping from them.
Breathe, Regin. His shaft was semihard and growing, rising from a patch of crisp black hair. Pulsing with aggressive jerks, it distended before her eyes. Behind that taut flesh, his bal s hung down, heavy but visibly tightening.
The clever and relatively young Declan Chase met two out of her three criteria.
He'd always been generously endowed, but this ... Her claws were curling for it.
Stop staring at his dick, slore.
Yet the rest of him affected her almost as much. His legs were powerful y masculine, dusted with black hair that led up to his groin. His h*ps were lean, the muscles up his sides flexing.
She was transfixed. But when he took a step closer, she snapped out of it. "Thanks for the view of your junkyard." She turned away, continuing to wash her arms. "But you'd do well to stay away from me, Magister."
"No' a magister anymore, no' one of the Order."
She shrugged. "Oh, because you've lost your instal ation?"
"I'm no' a magister anymore, because you wouldn't be a magister's woman." He strode into the water.
Chapter FORTY-FOUR
Declan edged closer.
In a way, this was like a military op. Yet never had an objective meant this much to him. And in no plan of attack before had he ever felt this much conflict within himself.
Stripping in front of her was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Storm a Cerunno nest? Routine.
Attack a demon stronghold? Child's play.
Putting himself under her scrutiny to risk certain rejection? Grueling.
He'd somehow held himself still as she'd leisurely inspected every inch of him. For some reason, he didn't think she was repulsed by the sight of him. God in heaven, maybe even the opposite. When her eyes had flickered, he'd grown hard under her gaze.
Nothing to lose, Dekko. If this didn't work, then at least he'd be freed from one of his vows to the vampire.
Her slim shoulders tensed as he eased up behind her. Heedless, he reached forward and pulled her hair off her nape. About to kiss the smooth skin above her torque, he leaned in-
She threw an elbow back, catching him in the mouth. "Don't you dare!"
As he'd hoped, that one hit wasn't enough, was only the shot that set off an avalanche. She whirled around, fist drawn back to pound his cheek.
He shook it off, swinging around to kiss her neck.
"Stop that!" She punched his mouth again. He pressed his newly bleeding lip to the other side of her neck.
"What is wrong with you?" Another hit to his face left his jaw singing.
But he merely rubbed his chin over the tip of her pointed ear. Every time she struck, he responded with a kiss or touch. "Is that supposed to hurt, Valkyrie? You hit like a wee girl."
"A wee girl!" she screamed, punching his kidney over and over, backing him toward the shore.
Never had he been so happy to take a beating. Of course, she wasn't at ful Valkyrie strength, and he was lingering on the very cusp of berserkrage.
When he tripped backward onto land, she leapt atop him, straddling his waist as she dril ed his face like a punching bag.
Instead of deflecting her hits, he grasped her perfect br**sts, groaning from the weight of them in his hands. Soft, damp flesh against his palms. Her ni**les were tight points. ... With a groan, he rocked his h*ps up beneath her.
She knocked his hands away; he let her.
"You keep ticklin' me like this, Valkyrie, and I'll think you want me to tickle back." Was she even aware they were both na**d and she was straddling him? He could feel the heat of her quim against him, slick warmth in the cool air. "I can do this all night, lass."
"You prick!" she yel ed between breaths, hammering his sternum. "Maybe I can't land a painful punch because of all the drugs in your system!"
His gaze bored into hers. "Never will touch them again," he told her, and he meant it.
"Or maybe you don't feel my hits because of all that ugly scar tissue buffering you!" She dragged her claws over the marks.
Shame fil ed him. Anger ignited. She'll never see past them. Just as he'd known.
Then his eyes narrowed with realization. "I might be ugly, Regin, but something's got your claws curling."
She'd seen him completely undressed, and she was still getting aroused. Wanting to roar with triumph, he grew more aggressive, leaning up to brush his lips over one stiff nipple.
After a heartbeat's hesitation, she backhanded him away.
"Slower to defend on that one, no, lass?" He pinned her arms to her sides so he could nuzzle her other nipple. Though she resisted, he took it between his lips, tasting that bud, tonguing it ... With a hoarse groan, he began to suckle, his eyes rol ing back in his head.
Had she moaned? His c**k pulsed painful y.
In a siren's voice, she said, "Chase, let me go. So I can touch you."
Yes! Without releasing his suck on her nipple, he slid his hands down to rest on her hips.
"You want my touch, Blademan?" She reached back, raking those claws up his thighs, leaving bloody furrows. "That's all You'll get from me-pain!"
He sucked her harder, til her nipple throbbed to the tip of his tongue. Pain? He felt none.
Gods, Chase's mouth was so hot on her breast, his lips closed tight around the peak.
He was thrumming, the muscles of his torso flexing sensuously beneath her. She'd never truly comprehended how big Chase's body was next to hers. So like Aidan.
Yet so different. A Celt with a wicked tongue and a gravel y voice.
His kiss tempted her; but for right now, it felt better to smack him around. She shoved him back, slapping him across the face.
"That's it, Regin, do what you need to."
"Oh, I will ." The last three weeks had been like a pressure cooker, and now she was about to explode. Every hit made a knot inside her unfurl. He wasn't the only one who could feel rage-and seeing the blood she'd drawn all over his body made it ebb.
One of his eyes was swol en. His lip was busted. The skin over his broad cheek was split. His legs were bleeding.
And still he was hard as rock.
He took her h*ps and settled her lower on his torso, pressing her to his erection. "I want you so much. It's like a fever in me."
She knocked his hands away. "Why would I ever want you back? You think I'm just going to forget all you've done to me?"
"No, no' forget. But I can salvage this thing between us. I'm ready to do whatever needs to be done."
"Salvage, huh? See, I've been remembering more from last night. You suffocated me." She boxed his other ear. "Was it hard to do?"
His face went cold, evincing that cruelness she'd hoped never to see again. "Just pressed down till you went limp. What's hard about that?"
"Ugh!" She backhanded him again.
"Of course it was bloody hard," he roared, the tendons in his neck straining. "One of the hardest things I've ever done. Brandr was about to puncture your goddamned heart. Happened anyway."
"Your hands were steady enough when you were cutting off my air!" Another resounding slap.
"Because they f**kin' needed to be! Damn you, woman, you died! And there was ... nothing I could do." His voice was thick.
Was Chase feeling an emotion other than hate? Dim memories arose. Her face damp with tears?
Chase murmuring in her ear to hold on for him?
She narrowed her gaze. "Did the big bad Blademan lose control of his emotions last night?" Slap. "Did seeing me like that compwetely bwake your wittle heart?" Backhand. "Did you cry man tears?"