Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Was it wrong to find herself having fun with Rolf of the Night Bloode?
The guy had a sarcastic sense of humor. He was goofy yet lethal, and the combination started to wear on her. Plus, Sylvara—not Syl—couldn’t stop recalling how amazingly he’d played her body. Talk about pleasure.
Even better, he agreed to sit back and let her handle the dark elves creeping around in the shadows. Odd, because they normally spent their days avoiding sunlight whenever possible.
Yet as she stepped away from Rolf and brandished her ax, she noted red eyes glaring at her from the darker shadows of the trees on either side of the path. A glance over her shoulder showed Rolf stepping back against a thick oak, comfortably sheltered from the sunbeams through the overhead leaves.
It bothered her that he walked so confidently near sunlight. She didn’t like the notion of any vampire having an immunity to the one weakness they were all supposed to have. Just one more reason not to trust that Rolf was a regular draugr.
“Well?” she bellowed. “I’m waiting.”
Not to be disappointed, she watched four dark elves slide out of the shadows of the forest. Their kind, with dark skin, white hair, and long, muscular frames, wore dark brown and black garb to better blend in with their environment.
She’d had a few dark elf lovers in her time. They could be creative and usually left her with little to complain about. But they could be xenophobic, even against a far superior class of being, like valkyries. The fae tended to view everyone not fae as barely tolerable. And she had wings.
“I don’t know you,” she said to the largest of the four. He had gems in his earlobe and several studs along the shell leading up to the point of his ear. Probably a senior lieutenant in one of their many armies.
“But I know of you, Sylvara Valfreyja. You are not welcome here.”
“Why not?”
He nodded to Rolf. “Because you walk with the cursed creature there, one of Loki’s favored.”
“I thought you all liked Loki.”
“We do.” The elf puffed up. Not a bad looking guy, but his conceit didn’t seem earned. He spent too much time talking and not enough time swinging that sword at his hip. But…oh.
She nodded at the shadows around them. “Stalling for reinforcements?” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Your reputation is well-known.”
She felt pretty good about that. “See, Rolf? These guys know what they’re dealing with.”
“Shouldn’t you call yourself a who and not a what? That seems a little self-effacing, Syl.” Rolf shook his head.
She sighed. “I don’t guess you guys would rather kill him first?”
“Unfortunately, no. We’re here for you. He can continue his mission alone if he wants.”
She blinked. “Wait. You’re here for me? I’m flattered.”
The dark fae shrugged. “You can either move there on your own, or we can move you there. Your choice.”
“Move me where?” None of this made any sense. The fae weren’t projecting menace but purpose. None of the elves had fired arrows at her or moved to strike. And dark elves weren’t known to want to talk anything to death.
“You are to be escorted to the tavern in Hill Song, just over the next crest.”
“That’s where we’re headed.” She frowned. “You don’t want to fight me?”
“Well, yes. I’d prefer that.” He gave her a sour look. “Unfortunately, I’ve been ordered to guide you instead.”
“I can come back later for a battle once we find what we’re after.”
The elf perked up. “That would be ideal.” He whistled, and a soft wind preceded the movement of his troops, who drifted back into the shadows. Sylvara had the impression of many.
His three companions moved back to accompany Rolf.
“What’s your name, friend?” she asked.
He smiled at her, and she noted a handsome warrior under his bluster. “I am known as Azarain Dralidok. My people are the Bleeding Stone.”
“No kidding? I’ve heard of you guys.” A dangerous group of savage warriors. A fight with Azarain would be fun. Maybe turn deadly.
She walked with him, discussing people they knew in common, including some of her more problematic sisters. While she always thought of her fellow valkyries as family, she knew many didn’t feel the same way about her. But since Sylvara loved a fight, that didn’t bother her the way it used to.
“Yes,” Azarain continued. “There is one of your kind who’s been haunting our mountains for years. She never stays long, always just out of reach. But she’s taken and kept many of our elves.”
Sylvara frowned. “Valkyries don’t kidnap people. We kill, sure. But we’re usually escorting the slain to Odin’s hall or Freyja’s field.”
“Yes, I know. But we’ve never found our kin, and it’s been several hundred years since we last saw some of them.”
“I’ve never heard anything about missing dark elves.”
“Of course not. Why would we boast about our losses?”
She frowned at him. “Then why are you telling me?”
Azarain smiled. “So that after you accomplish whatever it is Hecate wants you to do, you will bring back information on our missing kin before succumbing to a glorious death at the end of my sword.”
“Seems fair.”
Suddenly, Rolf inserted himself between Azarain and Sylvara, baring his teeth at the dark elf. “He’s not talking about the sword at his waist, Syl.” He glared at the guy’s lower half.
Azarain winked at her and smiled, showing off his small fangs. “It’s an impressive length of…steel.”
His companions laughed.
She snorted, pretending she’d known that all along, burying her embarrassment at her naivete. Stupid dark fae. She’d much rather he’d been threatening her with death than with sex. Why did guys always revert to innuendo instead of directness?
She raised a brow in disdain, having perfected the art two hundred years ago when she’d first been introduced to Loki. “First of all, you only wish you could get between my luscious thighs.”
Azarain blinked.
Rolf smiled. “They truly are luscious.”
She ignored him. “Second, when I come back, and I will, I’ll be bringing my A game.” She winked at Azarain, who watched her with interest. “Just wait until I bring you and your buddies with me to Valhalla. We haven’t had dark fae in a good ten years. But you seem the hardy type.”
“I look forward to your return.” His dark smile emboldened her own.
“Er, I feel all the love, I truly do,” Rolf said, remaining between them. “But maybe save all that hostility and perversion until we get back, eh, Azarella?”
“Azarain,” the dark elf snarled. “Watch your tone, vampire. We don’t fear your kind here.”
Rolf snorted. “Whatever.” He deliberately ignored the fae and said to her, “Oh, look, Syl. Hill Song. And there’s the sign for Wydner’s Tavern.”
“Finally.”
A small village came into view, one that looked like something out of a postcard.
Thatched roofs over buildings made of wood and river stone.
The scent of freshly baked bread, apple tarts, and pork pies wafted on a cool breeze.
Elves and sprites, pixies, and adventurers of all kinds gathered to trade in the popular Dark Fae shopping district.
Rolf’s eyesight was better than hers, unsurprisingly. Vampires were a breed apart. Still, Sylvara spotted the tavern moments after he did.
“Let’s go.” She started forward and stopped when Rolf jerked her back. “Hey.”
He ignored her in favor of their dark elf guides, who remained still, watching them. “When we come back, I’m going to rip your head off your neck and use it for bowling practice.”
Azarain frowned. “What’s bowling?”
“Some stupid human custom, no doubt,” one of his friends said with a sneer. “Sad that the draugrs are so invested in human culture. You could have been someone, vamp. Instead, you turned yourself into a lesser being. Pathetic.”
Before he could say another word, Rolf had the dark elf by the neck and ripped his head clean off. Blood poured on the ground.
Everyone watched in silence as Rolf tossed the head aside and said in an odd accent, “I’ll be back.” Then he flexed, which Sylvara found confusing. “Get it? Like Ah-nold. The Terminator? Anyone?”
Azarain made an insulting gesture.
Rolf returned it.
Then Azarain shocked her by laughing. He kicked his companion’s head aside. “Come, brothers. Let’s get back before the fight with the light elves ends. And Sylvara, I’ll be waiting with my hungry sword for you.”
The others snickered, none of them very bothered by the death of one of their own.
“Fuck off,” she shot back.
“I can’t wait.”
They left without a backwards glance.
“Weirdos,” she muttered. “I mean, I’m not super close with all valkyries, but you harm one of us and we’ll return the favor.”
“Same.” Rolf nodded. Then he scowled down at her. “But maybe next time don’t flirt so much or someone might assume you’re available.” He walked toward the tavern.
She hurried to join him after a stunned moment. “What are you talking about? I am available.”
Rolf huffed. “You are not.”
“Oh, so I’m taken? By who?”
“Whom.”
“Answer the question,” she growled.
“Honestly, Syl—”
“—vara.”
“We’re practically engaged. You don’t need to pretend.”
“Engaged?” Part of her noticed the many people spotting Rolf and giving them plenty of space. They might not recognize Rolf as a vampire with his blond hair and ability to walk under the setting sun, but his powerful presence couldn’t be missed.
“I proposed.”
“When?”
“I told you my wedding gift was for you to fight the dark elves. I didn’t intervene.”
“You walked between me and Azarain.”
Rolf glowered. “You liked him.”
“At first. He seemed like he’d be fun to fight.”
Rolf studied her. “That’s all?”
She frowned. “All? What else is there?”
That seemed to cheer him up. “Yes, what else is there?” Then he hurried them past everyone to the back of the tavern. They found the third door Danica had mentioned, one that matched the color of the key she’d given them.
Rolf took the key from her.
“Hey.”
He inserted it into the lock and pushed open the door into an inky black entry. “After you, Sylvara.”
She gave him a wary look. “Don’t even think about stabbing me in the back.”
“With my weighty sword?” He wiggled his brows. “Kinky.”
“Oh, shut up.” She felt her cheeks heat, heard him laugh, and strode into the inky darkness taking them to another plane.
To the underworld and Hades’ Games.