Valkyrie Song (Valkyrie Bound #5)

Chapter Five

Stephan

K ara spends most of the evening with her sisters before disappearing into her room. She seems tense and restless as she disappears…the same way she did all night. Something is wrong.

Is it the wolves the warriors spotted today?

Instead of retreating to my room, I bide my time, lingering in the living area…just waiting. The others trickle out in twos and threes. Eventually, the house falls silent. I remain seated in the dark, my eyes locked on Kara's closed door, my instincts whispering at me.

It's well after midnight when she finally slips out of her room, moving on silent feet toward the door. I growl a curse as soon as it closes behind her, and then follow in her wake, staying out of sight as she clings to the shadow around the barracks, hurrying toward the far side of our little village.

At this hour, silence stretches from one side of the village to the other. Save for the warriors on patrol, everyone else is asleep. Or at least in their rooms for the night. The soft whisper of wind through the tall grass and the rustle of leaves high up in trees are the only sounds.

The moon hangs high overhead, offering a glimmer of light. But save for the faint glow of her Light, my little Valkyrie didn't even bring a flashlight to light her way.

Where the fuck is she going?

I fall in behind her, sticking to the shadows to avoid being seen as I stalk her through the dark, my hand itching to spank her luscious ass. It's too dangerous for her to be out here on her own like this. And judging by how confidently she moves, this isn't the first time she's snuck out like this.

How many nights did I miss her sneaking out just like this? How many times did I sleep through her wandering off into the forest alone? The fact that I missed even a single one of these late-night escapades is enough to drive me mad. She could have been hurt or worse, and I never would have known.

She reaches the far edge of the village and pauses. I stop a few yards away, watching her. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she mutters something to herself too quietly for me to make it out and then takes a step forward into the tall grass. Almost immediately, she seems to think better of her decision. She quickly steps back into the shadows of the building again, muttering to herself.

What is she doing?

Talking herself out of whatever nonsense she's up to, I hope.

"I know you're following me," she whispers into the dark a moment later, killing that hope. "You might as well come out."

I growl a curse, stepping out of the shadows. She doesn't move an inch, not even when I stomp toward her. As soon as I step up beside her, however, she shivers slightly.

"Where in the hell do you think you're going at this time of night by yourself, princess?" I growl, hooking my fingers under her chin to crane her head back. Her amber eyes lock with mine, defiance stamped across every stubbornly beautiful line of her face.

"Nowhere," she says. "You told me that I'm never alone, Stephan."

I'm a patient man. In all my life, I've never slept with a woman. I never felt the need until I met her. It's not that there weren't opportunities because there were. When you're in the military, there are always opportunities. But something—some instinct, perhaps—told me that the one for me was out there, and I needed to wait. So I did.

But no one has ever dragged me to the limits of my patience quite as quickly as this infuriating little Valkyrie. With that one sentence, I'm a bundle of competing desire. I want to yank her into my arms and kiss the sweetness from her lips. I want to bend her over my knee and spank the defiance from her. And I want to fall on my knees and worship at her perfect feet.

None of which solves the immediate problem of figuring out what the fuck she's doing out here right now.

"Valkyrie," I growl through my teeth, pressing my body up against hers. "If you don't tell me, right now, what you're doing out here, every warrior in Valhalla is going to hear just how much you didn't mean it when you told me a Valkyrie couldn't bond a human."

"I…" She licks her lips, her wide eyes darting across my face. Whatever she sees there seems to tell her that I'm deadly serious. "Ing needs me," she whispers. "Something is wrong."

Sometimes, I hate being right. Of course she's out here in the middle of the night because the wolf called her.

"How many times?" I ask.

"How many times what?"

I growl a wordless warning.

"A few." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. "The Fae make him nervous, so he usually comes at night."

That's how I missed him. I'm not sure which pisses me off more—the fact that I did, or the fact that she willingly put herself in danger more than once to go meet the wolf.

I slant my mouth down over hers, claiming her lips in a hard kiss. She gasps, and that little sound of surprise grants me the moment I need. I slip between her parted lips, devouring her like the greedy beast I am.

She doesn't try to stop me.

Instead, she whimpers in the back of her throat, pressing her body close to mine. Whatever connection exists between us blazes to life, searing along every pathway between us like a living, breathing flame. I feel her in my head—her trembling desire and nervous excitement—and I want more. I want everything she has.

I spear my hand into her thick mane of hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. My tongue flicks along hers, hot and insistent, until she's boneless in my arms, whimpering and clinging to me like she can't imagine letting me go.

Then and only then do I back off, breathing hard.

"You don't leave the safety of the barracks without me, princess," I snarl against her lips, biting her bottom one. " ég fer tangae sem tú fere ."

"I…don't think that means what you think it means, Stephan," she whispers.

"No?" I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing my lips across her forehead. "I go where you go, Kara. Even to death. If anything happens to you, I follow."

She gasps softly, shock rippling down the tentative bond between us. Her wide, startled eyes meet mine in the dark. My cock throbs at the innocent hope growing there.

"Come, Valkyrie," I murmur, untangling myself from around her before I lose the will to do it at all. "Let's go see your wolf."

"But…"

I cock a brow at her. Whatever protest she was going to utter dies on her lips, quickly swallowed.

I chuckle, lacing our fingers together. Her palm nestles against mine like it's supposed to fit there. I immediately like it. And then I scowl. I can't pull my ímun-laukr with the weapon trapped between us and her hand clasped in mine. It's a painful problem to have…holding her hand or being prepared to defend her life. But protecting her comes first, in all things, in all ways.

I gently shift her around so she's on my opposite side, grunting in satisfaction when her hand is in mine again and my sword-hand is free. She doesn't say a word the entire time. But she peeks up at me, a tiny smile on her lips as if she's amused.

Painful problems require creative solutions. The Fae taught me that.

"Where is Ing, princess?" I ask as we step out into the grass, heading toward the treeline several yards away.

"At the outpost."

The Fae cut the trees back from around the village, ensuring that we'd have clear line of sight if the Forsaken manage to get into Valhalla. We don't want them having a place to hide, and if they're able to open their foul portals inside the borders of Valhalla, we want them right out in the open where we can see them.

Fuck. Is that why they're wasting so many of their numbers? In a bid to get at least one into Valhalla so they can open their portals? Is it even possible? Until the Valkyrie Healed the Bifrost, the way into Valhalla was closed for three centuries, cut off from the rest of creation. The Bifrost has always been the only way in or out…but what if that's no longer true?

It's a grim thought. But it's not a possibility we can outright reject, either. And I'm not the only one who has considered it. If I were, we wouldn't have the warriors scouring Valhalla as carefully as they scour Asgard on the other side of the portal. They're worried about the same thing.

Back when the Bifrost was the only way in or out, Valhalla had always been closely guarded. There were Fae, Valkyrie, and the warriors bonded to the Valkyrie inside the borders at all times, standing in defense of this haven. But that hasn't been true for three centuries. The Forsaken have had three hundred years to plot and scheme. Three hundred years of a defenseless mecca. And Gods only know what they've learned to do with their twisted portals.

For all we know, if they get one across the border, they'll be able to open dozens of their portals just like they did in Eitr.

I need to talk to Damrion.

I flick a glance down at Kara and notice the way she's staring off into space, her brows pinched together as if she's concentrating. What does she hear? I'd kill to know what's going on in her mind right now.

I squeeze her fingers, silently offering comfort.

She fidgets beside me, shivering, and clings a little tighter to my hand. "Something is wrong, Stephan."

"Another rabbit?"

"No." She quickly shakes her head, causing pieces of hair to dance in the wind. "It's not just him. All of the animals are uneasy. Their thoughts are full of anxiety. None are close enough for me to get a good read, but they're afraid." She turns wide eyes up at me. "I've been feeling it growing among them since the Forsaken started trying to get to the Bifrost. But it's worse now."

A frown tugs at my lips, worry coursing through me.

"You don't think…?"

"I don't know," I murmur as we skirt along the edge of the forest, not venturing into the trees. In the dark, it's too dangerous. Even with her Light guiding us, it's safer to stick to the grass and enter only when necessary.

We fall into silence, a groove between Kara's brows as if her mind is on her worries. I think it's been there for weeks now. Does she ever get a break from them?

Ha. Does anyone anymore?

"You've been avoiding me," I murmur, trying to give her something else to think about, at least for a few minutes.

She turns wide eyes up at me. I expect her to deny it, but she doesn't.

"It seemed like the safe thing to do," she admits.

"Why?"

Her gaze drifts from mine. "Because I think you meant it when you said this bond was going to happen anyway," she says softly.

"You don't want it?" My heart clenches in a vise at the thought. Gods. I've wanted nothing but her since I set eyes on her. If she doesn't feel the same way, it's going to rip my heart out of my chest.

She shrugs helplessly. "I don't want someone else to lose, Stephan. And that's how it ends, right? If we survive this, I get to live forever. And eventually, you die." A sad puff of sound escapes her lips. "Why put us through something that's only going to end with you leaving me in the end?"

Fuck. I never quite considered it that way. Perhaps I should have, though. Because she isn't wrong. There's a reason Valkyrie souls are tied to warriors who have already died. Valkyrie don't die unless they're cut down in battle. Disease and old age will never touch her. She'll walk the realms for millennia. And sooner or later, I'll wither and waste away.

Dead warriors don't. They're form and substance, able to move freely between realms with the Valkyrie who holds their bond because a Valkyrie holds their bond. Without that, they'd move beyond the Veil just assuredly as any other soul, unable to remain.

Is that the fate awaiting me and Kara? We bond, and then she loses me anyway?

Nei, I refuse to believe that. Fate can be a bitch of a mistress, but I refuse to accept that the Norns would be so cruel to this little Valkyrie. The bond doesn't form between unequal halves. And it wouldn't form if there were no hope. I was plucked from the tapestry and crafted specifically for Kara for a reason. And that reason wasn't to leave her with half a soul for the rest of eternity.

It damn sure wasn't to drag her into death with me.

We're as inevitable as the stars, as certain as the rising sun. She is mine, and I was born to be hers. I'll scream defiance in the faces of anyone who dares say differently. No one is taking me from this Valkyrie.

No one.

"The Norns don't give hope just to snatch it away, princess," I murmur. "And they don't forge bonds where one can't flourish."

One way or another, I'm claiming her. She'll see that I'm right. And she'll learn that I meant exactly what I said: I go where she goes. Into life. Into death. Into the deepest pits of hell if that's what's required of me.

She sighs softly but doesn't answer.

I decide to let it go for now, but only because she has other worries, other fears. Shit, these days, fear and worry are all that's left. But I won't be one of those for her. I intend to be her harbor, her port. And it starts now.

I tried to stay away. She didn't like that. I tried to do what I thought was right. I was wrong. I don't belong in her shadow. I belong at her side, protecting her, loving her, holding her. She poured her Light into my soul beneath these trees, leaving behind a brand.

It's far too late to erase it or take it back now.

Ten minutes later, we creep toward the outline of the ruins where we met Ing the other day. They stand far more imposing in the dark of night than they did in the light of day. I don't want to let her go in there.

"Kara, wait," I murmur when she takes a step forward, eager to go see Ing and hear what he has to share with her.

"He needs me, Stephan," she protests, glancing back over her shoulder at me. The distress stamped across her face feels like a wrecking ball working on my guts. Whatever the wolf is sending her…isn't good.

What the fuck happened?

I don't know, but I don't like it. The entire forest feels off. Sinister. As if the restlessness and unease the animals feel has transferred to the trees and the dirt itself.

"You stay behind me," I say. "And if I give you an order, you obey it."

She hesitates for only a moment before nodding.

I step up in front of her, drawing my ímun-laukr from the scabbard. Behind me, I feel her Light blaze hotter, searing into me as she calls on more of it. I grunt in satisfaction, pleased she's prepared to defend herself even if the thought that her wolf friend could harm her does seem preposterous to her.

We stride toward the ruins with her Light spilling around us, leading the way. I place my feet carefully to avoid crunching the leaves underfoot. Only to fight a smile when my effort is immediately rendered moot. She tramples through the underbrush without a care, as if she never learned to hunt or track.

Not that I suppose moving in silence matters at this juncture. Ing already knows we're coming. He probably heard us long before we got this close.

I step into the ruins, carefully checking every shadow.

A soft warning growl whispers from the back corner. I focus my attention that way, and see the wolf pacing in the dark, his head low to the ground.

"Ing!" Kara cries, shifting to scurry around me.

I throw my arm out in front of her, halting her in her tracks as my eyes quickly pick out another, thicker shadow at his feet. Another wolf. Only this one isn't moving.

Kara notices the second animal at the same time and cries out softly, a broken sound of distress and horror. She rips herself free of my hold, stumbling forward.

"Kara, nei!" I warn her. "Don't touch him."

"Oh, Stephan." She jerks to a stop as her Light falls on the wolf at Ing's feet. It's badly injured, blood staining his muzzle. One leg is badly deformed, as if it were broken in multiple places.

But the…stench…coming from it is sickeningly familiar. It's subtle, so faint I doubt we'd notice it at all if the animal weren't losing blood so rapidly. But this close, with his blood all over him, there's no mistaking it.

"Don't touch him, Valkyrie. That smell is varulv poison."

She turns wide eyes in my direction, horror stamped across her beautiful face. "Varulv? In Valhalla?"

I nod grimly, glancing at Ing, who still paces restlessly around his fallen packmate. "Can you ask him what happened?"

Kara takes a tentative step toward Ing, lifting her hand toward him. He darts out of the shadows like a streak, pressing up against her thigh. Her fingers sink into the thick fur of his coat, a soothing noise whispering from her throat.

I take another step toward the wolf lying in the mud and muck, keeping my eyes on him. But he isn't getting up again. The poison running through his veins will kill him soon if his injuries don't.

For centuries, the Forsaken twisted the minds of shifters, subjugating their souls. What was left behind wasn't man and wasn't wolf. It was something else—something born of the Dark. The varulv are more demon than anything, and until Tori Healed Reaper of a bite, they killed everything they sank their teeth into.

I'd call her now…but she won't get here in time. No one will.

"Oh, Ing," Kara whispers, her shoulders shaking as she cries softly.

He chuffs mournfully, his grief obvious.

"He says his pack was hunting and they stumbled onto the Dark Ones. The Dark Ones attacked from all sides. They tried to fight them off, but every time his packmates bit one, something happened to them." She wipes tears, her bottom lip quivering. "They howled like they were burning alive. He and…" She pauses for a moment. "His n-name means rider of the hunt, but that's not entirely right. It's a specific hunt. It feels almost…sacred? I'm not sure."

"Oskoreia," I murmur. "The Wild Hunt."

Ing chuffs as if in recognition.

"Yes, that's it," Kara says. "Oskoreia."

Jesus Christ. I glance back at the dying wolf, my blood running cold. I've never much believed in signs and symbols, but I've heard the Fae talk of Oskoreia. Odin only ever called for the Hunt before war. Those who witnessed it knew it meant war was on the horizon and began their preparations.

If this is meant to be a sign that we're running out of time, it's a giant flaming arrow pointing toward the end.

"He managed to get away without being bitten, but he says the Dark Ones attacked Rider as they were fleeing. Rider managed to make it here before…" she trails off, her shoulders shaking again.

I stride forward, pulling her into my arms as she cries quietly. There are varulv in Valhalla. Gods. How did we miss it? Is that what the Forsaken have been trying to do? Not access the Bifrost themselves but get their hellhounds across the border?

I don't know, but I don't like it.

"How many were there, princess? Can you ask him?"

Kara sniffles and nods before pulling back to communicate with Ing. A second later her brow furrows. "That can't be right," she mumbles.

"What?"

"Wolves don't count, so I could be wrong, but I think he's saying there were two times as many as were in his pack."

I glance down at the wolf, my gaze sharp. "How many were in his pack, Valkyrie?"

"Seven."

Jesus. If she's right, there are at least fourteen varulv in Valhalla. Fourteen chances for the Forsaken to strike. And they could be anywhere. Valhalla is miles and miles of forests and valleys and rivers. Even if every warrior inside its borders searches, it'll take days. Weeks, even.

We don't have that kind of time. We never had that kind of time. But we don't have choice, either. Leaving even a single Forsaken spy alive in Valhalla is deadly dangerous. Leaving fourteen of them is suicide.

"We need to warn Damrion," I say grimly. "The warriors need to begin searching."

"What about Ing?" Kara protests. "We can't just leave him alone, Stephan. What if they come back?" Her bottom lip quivers, distress flowing through her eyes. "I don't want him to die."

I can't even communicate with the wolf, and I don't want him to die. He's important to her. That means he's important.

I sigh softly, pulling her back into my arms to brush my lips across her temple. "Ing stays here for now, princess. We can't have him strolling into the middle of the barracks with five hundred warriors who know nothing about him."

She opens her mouth to protest, but Ing whirls toward his fallen packmate suddenly, his fur standing on end. I turn in that direction, a curse whistling from between my lips.

The wolf isn't on the floor anymore, rapidly dying. I'm pretty sure he's past that point. And he's on his feet, snarling at us. Fucking hell. Did the varulv turn him?

That isn't possible. Except…the evidence is pacing toward us, nothing but malevolence in his yellow eyes.

"Kara, you and Ing need to get out of here," I growl, stepping forward to cut the wolf, Rider, off from the two of them. "Now, princess."

"I'm not leaving you!" she cries. And Christ, if this weren't an emergency, I'd kiss that vow from her lips. But right now, I need her safely outside, away from a newly formed varulv with a fresh load of poison pumping through his veins.

"Go, Valkyrie. Now."

She huffs, and I think she's going to obey. But when has a Valkyrie ever done what she's told? In all the combined history of Valhalla, I'm guessing never.

"I'm so sorry, Ing!" she cries, flinging a blast of Light toward Rider.

The confused varulv ignites with a whoosh, a pained howl ripping through the ruins as the area immediately around us lights up like midday.

The sound dies quickly. So does her Light. And when it goes, Rider goes with it. Not even the blood he spilled marks the place where he fell.

Kara drops her hands, her head hanging heavy between her shoulders.

Ing throws his head back, a bloodcurdling howl of grief ripping from his muzzle as he says goodbye to the family that was stolen from him.

I always wondered if animals mourned as deeply as we do.

I guess now I know.