Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Sylvara glared at the besotted psycho following her through a labyrinth of a garden maze for the past half hour.
He acted like a well-heeled puppy while she did her best to forget he’d made her lose her mind.
Focus on the mission, you idiot. It was all she could do not to slap herself for mooning over a guy.
They needed to find Jormungandr, and Hades had sent a message with instructions to follow this path. Which they’d been following. Forever.
She glanced over her shoulder because Rolf kept walking behind and not next to her, ogling her ass.
“Quit it,” she snarled.
He grinned, exposing pretty, white fangs, and started whistling. Damn it all, but she found herself grinning with him. The vampire had no give. All that sex. All those orgasms. By Freyja’s Bounty, where had this guy been hiding all her life?
Not that she’d ever tell him that.
She’d been with her share of males, though she didn’t sleep with just anyone.
Unfortunately, the ones who tried hard wanted praise if they performed well.
And the ones who didn’t took what they wanted without regard to her pleasure then realized their mistake when they never got an invitation to return.
But not Rolf. He made her lose her mind then followed her around like a big dope, batting his eyes like an idiot and calling her “snookums” and “my silver treasure” and a bunch of other sickeningly cute nicknames that would have her sisters teasing her mercilessly if they heard.
Truth be told, Sylvara kind of liked the flattery. Not that she believed he really meant it. Laced with humor, his endearments amused her. He kept saying he wanted more, and she couldn’t deny she was interested.
Who could have guessed she’d share so much chemistry with a fanger? And the last few times he hadn’t taken any of her blood. Hmm.
“Hey, Rolf.”
“Yes, my bosomy goddess?”
“Goddess?” She made a face. “Hey, buddy, I work for a living.”
“Ah, apologies. No insult intended.”
“Better. But you never answered my question earlier.”
He frowned.
“About the toilet,” she prodded.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. So do you?”
He just stared at her.
She shrugged. “Look, I don’t know a lot about vampires.
I know some of you can survive beheadings.
Apparently, some can handle sunlight.” She gave him a knowing look.
“Not all of you can regenerate limbs. You need blood to survive, but I don’t know if you can eat regular food.
Supposedly, one of the tribes is partial to water.
Some of you turn into birds and others into wolves. And draugrs are big into magic.”
“All true. I guess I can part with a few house secrets. You are mine, after all.”
Again with the “mine.”
Then again, she’d said it to him first, hadn’t she? Why had she done that? Had to have been all those endorphins from orgasms making her lose all sense.
“Just tell me.”
“If you must know, vampires are clean beings. We’re civilized, after all.”
She snorted.
“What? We are. We also like gutting our enemies and killing things that deserve to be killed.” He paused.
“And even some things that probably don’t need to be killed.
But you know, we like to have fun. Nothing better than fresh, rich blood.
Yum.” He wiggled his brows. “And yes, we use the toilet. Happy now?”
She stopped and turned to see his bland expression. But she sensed his discomfort with the conversation, though she couldn’t have said how she knew that. “Holy shit. Are you embarrassed?”
“What? No.”
“You are. You totally are!” She burst out laughing. “Oh man. Classic. I finally found your weakness. Vampires go potty.”
“Laugh it up,” he muttered and cleared his throat.
“We need to flush waste, and we imbibe liquids. Do the math. We also brush our teeth… and floss,” he added before she could ask.
“Some vampires partake in solid foods, but I don’t find it appetizing.
Vampires don’t like fire or the sun. And we don’t usually like lightning.
But I find I’m partial to a little sizzle.
” He touched her arm and hissed. “Ouch. Burn.”
She rolled her eyes.
He chuckled, his eyes warm. “You are the most fortunate of females, you know.”
“Oh?”
They started walking again, Rolf taking her arm and tucking it into the crook of his. Like a lady at a fine ball, on the arm of her gentleman caller. Ha. Yeah, right.
“Not just any woman can capture a Better like myself.”
“What’s that all about? The ‘Better/lesser being’ talk.”
“Well, anyone not a vampire is lesser.” He shrugged in apology. “I didn’t make the rules. The universe did.”
“You keep thinking that.”
“Oh, I know that. But see, the thing is, when vampires take a mate, that automatically elevates the mate to a better status. Not capital B-better. Just a greater status.” He watched her for her reaction, she could tell.
“You’re saying that even though I made you come so hard you were begging me for more, I’m still less than you in some capacity?”
He smiled. “You’ve got a keen grasp of how life works, Syl.”
“You’re a moron.”
“And you use humor to deal with setbacks. I love it.” He squeezed her arm.
She wanted to wring his neck.
“Never fear, my schnookums. I find you irreplaceable.”
“Be still my heart.”
He snickered.
She laughed with him despite herself.
It took them another half hour of walking before they came to a door. “I am so tired of gods making things difficult. Can’t one of these dickbags just make us a portal to Jormy already? But no. We have to follow a path to yet another mysterious door.”
“I can see I’ve been taking Hecate and Mormo for granted,” he said, surprising her. “But in my defense, they’re both really annoying.”
“Oh?” She pushed the door open and walked…home?
“This isn’t Seattle.” He looked around at the grassy field filled with warriors, Odin’s einherjar, the elite warriors she and her fellow valkyries had taken from battle to field his army.
The clear evening sky gave way to ravens and eagles flying overhead to perch in trees in the magical forest surrounding Valhalla, Odin’s grand hall.
“Seattle?” she repeated, looking around but not spotting her many sisters. Though all valkyries considered themselves siblings of a sort, not everyone got along.
“While I was waiting for you to clean up after I left a mess in you for the third time this morning, a visitor flew by and told me we’d find Jormungandr in Seattle. But alas, we are not there. This feels like Odin’s land.”
“What clued you in? Valhalla?” She nodded at the large palace Odin had upgraded a few decades ago, using pieces from Yggdrasil, the World Tree.
The palace sat high so all of Asgard could see it. The roof was thatched with golden shields that gleamed under an early moon, gigantic spears acting as posts around the building. One of his wolves patrolled the western door while the eagles overhead kept an eye on the area.
“Right you are, Rolf of the Night Bloode. You stand in my land.” A large man appeared out of thin air, a raven perched on each shoulder. He stood twice as tall as Sylvara and was more muscular than his son, Thor.
The warriors on the field gave a hardy cheer for him. Odin waved, and they returned to their combat training.
Odin, father of the Norse gods, wore a patch over one eye, his hair a white-blond that caressed his powerful shoulders.
His good blue eye sparkled with mirth and wisdom, his mustache trailing into a flowing beard of frosted gold that reached the middle of his chest. War braids framed his face, mirrored in his beard, tied with strips of giantess gold.
He stood in a short sleeved, dark blue tunic pattered in runes along the collar over a pair of deerskin trousers and massive, black boots.
Whereas Hades dressed in suits to tie in to the modern era, Odin preferred to harken back to the days of fistfights and weapons determining the winner of most contests.
No gray areas, just black and white. Red and dead, where no one questioned who was in charge.
Though she appreciated that way of thinking—she did spend a lot of time in Asgard, after all—the mortal world seemed to do well with rules. Especially because, for the most part, gods couldn’t enter the mortal plane unless using a loophole. Like Hecate allying with the vampires.
For all his grandeur and intimidating presence, Odin got on Sylvara’s last nerve. Always acting as if her presence bothered him, as if she wanted to be in his way, not doing her own fucking business on her own fucking terms.
He raised a brow at her, as if sensing her thoughts. “Well?”
“We’re looking for someone,” she said slowly, spacing out her words.
“I. Know.” He smirked, resembling Loki though no blood tied them.
Rolf coughed to hide his own laughter.
“Fuck you too,” she snapped.
The god and the vampire laughed uproariously.
“We’re supposed to find Jormungandr to stop some cosmic chaos from killing everyone before you can wage a war on the giants,” she reminded Odin. “A little help would be nice, Big Man.”
Odin puffed up. He’d been going by “Big Man” for the last hundred years. She figured to throw him a bone if it would get her to her objective a little sooner than never.
“Very well, valkyrie. Go visit your sisters while I talk to this fine fellow for a bit. I believe Hlokk was asking after you. And Skuld as well, if I’m not mistaken.”
A visit with her aunts would be nice. She started to go then remembered she couldn’t without major repercussions. “I can’t leave Rolf.”
Odin waved his fingers, and her hand blazed.
“Ow.”
“Hey,” Rolf growled. He reached for Sylvara’s hand and stared at it intently. “You broke the spell.” Her vampire didn’t seem pleased about it. Weird.
“Only while you’re here in my domain. But we don’t have a lot of time before it returns. Sylvara, make haste.” He shooed her away.
She frowned. Big boss or not, he shouldn’t treat her like a nuisance. Her eyes burned, rage returning, as it usually did when dealing with him.
Rolf stared at her like a lovesick moron. “You want to smack him, don’t you?”
“What if I do?”
“What?” Odin gaped. “Me? You would dare?” His anger swelled. Not good.
Rolf stepped in with a laugh and tugged Odin by the arm. “Isn’t she great? She’s not scared of me at all either. I mean, wow. What a woman, am I right? You Norse make the best females.”
Odin let out a breath, shot her the evil eye, then turned with Rolf. “We do. We’re a superior people. Much like you vampires, but better.”
Rolf laughed at that.
They walked away.
She stared after them, aware she’d been dismissed so Odin could talk in private with Rolf. What was that about? Before she could make sense of it, one of her fellow valkyries found her. A half-giant bitch named Agatha who never let Sylvara pass without an insult.
“Oh, Sylvara?”
“What?” Sylvara asked, tired of dealing with stupid people. “Look, Hagatha, I—”
The punch to her face shouldn’t have surprised her. But the half dozen of Agatha’s conspirators appearing to gang up on her did. They hadn’t pulled this shit in decades.
Sylvara smiled and adjusted her cracked jaw, reveling in the pain. “Baby warrior wants to play, eh?”
Agatha’s beady eyes narrowed. Then several of Sylvara’s friends appeared, ales in hand as they shot from Odin’s main hall.
“Oy. Cunterella’s on our girl. Hey, Sylvara! Need some help?” her always drunken pal, Ylvari, yelled across the courtyard.
Sylvara noticed the sparring warriors pause, their attention on her and the fuckheads trying to mess with her.
“Hurry up, Yl,” she yelled back. “My time is short, and I don’t intend to waste it on these bitches.”
“Up yours, weakling,” Agatha spat.
“Oh, so harsh and creative,” Bryndris, another of Sylvara’s friends said, joining Ylvari. “Your insults suck, Haggie.”
“Fuck you,” Agatha shot back.
“Yeah,” Helvra, Agatha’s bestie added. “Fuck you, Bryndris.”
“You wish, bitch.”
More Valkyries poured from the mead hall as a swell of Agatha’s allies appeared.
Someone blew a battle horn. The male warriors exchanged bets, as did several of the gods who suddenly appeared.
All thoughts of Odin and Rolf fled Sylvara’s mind. The song of battle transcended everything.
She launched herself at Agatha, who weighed a good thirty pounds more than she did, a half-giant and pain in the ass who deserved every bad thing ever said about her.
It was so on.