Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I trip over something in the dark, crying out as the ground rushes up to meet me. I can't move, can't think, can't breathe as I land hard on my side. Pain radiates from my hip, throbbing through me.
Get up and run!
I try to obey the survival instinct screaming at me, choking on the pain.
A vicious snarl rips through the air, inches from my face. I cry out and rear back, trying to avoid the massive beast lunging at me from the shadows. Its eyes glow an eerie yellow in the darkness, and saliva drips from razor-sharp fangs.
I haul myself to my feet, sobbing wordlessly in terror. But it's too late to run. More of the beasts—wolves—surround me, pushing me back toward the house.
No.
No, no, no.
Icy hands clamp down on my arms from behind, yanking me off balance.
"No!" I scream, thrashing wildly. "Let me go!" I kick and flail, fighting like hell to get free, unwilling to go quietly.
Something covers my mouth, cutting off my air supply. Pure terror fires through me as I realize that my parents' sacrifice was for nothing. They died to keep me out of the hands of the Forsaken. And I fell into them anyway.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Chapter One
Malachi
"We're going to die today," I announce grimly, eyeing the throng of Forsaken milling inside the walls of Eitr. Until recently, those walls and this town, hidden deep in the mountains in Washington, were home to every Fae warrior in this realm.
The Forsaken drove us from the safety of her walls weeks ago. The bastards and their hellhounds have made themselves at home in the time since. There have to be two hundred of them down there, at least.
And the Gods-damned bastards are holding Reaper's mate hostage somewhere in the mess they've made of the town we built with our bare hands. They intended us to trade Abigail, our seer, for her, but we don't trade hostages. And we can't afford for them to get their hands on Abigail, no matter the cost.
If we must all die here to keep her out of their hands, then we all die here. There is no other choice. They cannot be allowed to gain control of Abigail's visions.
"Ja," Adriel agrees from beside me. "But at least we'll take a good number of the fucking Forsaken with us."
I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face as we size up the situation below. We aren't going to take nearly as many with us as we need to take. Until every last one of the bastards are wiped from existence, we can't afford to throw Fae lives away on suicide missions like these.
We can't leave a Valkyrie in their hands, either. Valhalla may have fallen millennia ago, but our oath still holds. Our lives for the Valkyrie. That's what we swore. That oath means more now than it ever did.
The Valkyrie we swore to defend fell with Valhalla, but their daughters are even more powerful than they were, and they're the only things standing between the Forsaken and the end of everything.
If they fall, so does every realm in existence.
I shrug my shoulders, rolling my neck. My skin feels tight over my bones. I'm unsettled in a way I've never been before a battle.
Is this what it feels like to stare death in the face?
Nei, it doesn't feel this way.
I've stared death in the face. I've walked right up to his doorway and laughed in his face. This is not that. It's something else. Something…new.
There's something down there, something waiting. I feel it like a breath on my neck. I just don't know what it is.
"We're getting her back," Reaper growls, his voice a painful rasp. "No one is dying today."
Damrion and Adriel share a look, finally on the same page about something after 2500 years at war with one another. Too damned bad they're in agreement about the odds of our survival being slim to none here. It would have been nice if they could have agreed on anything else in that time.
Nei, that's not a fair assessment. They do agree on at least one other thing—their love for Abigail. The mate bond between the three of them is complex and fragile, but it's there nonetheless. They love her beyond all reason. If they let themselves, they may learn to love one another the same way again.
If we live that long.
"Of course no one is dying today," Dax says, clasping Reaper on the shoulder.
Dax's mate pats him on the arm.
Reaper shakes them both off, pacing restlessly. The torment in his eyes is painful to see. If this is what it is to belong to a Valkyrie… Gods, no wonder the Warriors never survived it. No wonder the Gods themselves forbade the Fae from bonding to one of the women of Valhalla.
A bond like this wasn't meant to survive the Valkyrie who holds it. Reaper has been in torment since the moment Tori was taken. He won't breathe easy until she's back in his arms. A Fae warrior's place is at his mate's side, protecting her above all things. It is who we are. It's our very nature. Every instinct we have demands we protect our mates.