Chapter 29 - Danica #2
It's clear my assessment of Erik has piqued her interest, but I'm not sure to what end.
But one thing I do know? If Bryn's looking for a character reference, she couldn't do better than my silver-haired brother-in-arms. Erik's the kind of guy you want in your corner when the chips are down and the world's going to Hell in a handbasket.
"Does this Erik make a habit of playing the gallant savior?" Bryn's tone shifts from curious to annoyed faster than a Valkyrie's sword strike.
I blink, taken aback by the sudden change. "What do you mean?" I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.
Bryn sighs, draining her mead horn in one impressive gulp. "Pay it no mind," she mutters, reaching for the pitcher to refill her drink.
But my mind is already whirring, pieces clicking into place. I think back to the battle, how Bryn took that nasty hit, and Erik was ready to play the hero. Does she resent him for stepping in? Is it some warrior pride thing?
"Hey, don't take it personally," I say gently, trying to smooth over the sudden tension. "That's just how Erik is. He's hardwired to protect the people he cares about, no matter how badass they are."
To my surprise, a flush creeps up Bryn's neck, staining her cheeks pink. She quickly looks away, suddenly fascinated by the intricate carvings on the wall.
"Yes, well, perhaps he should learn to read the battlefield better," she grumbles, a defensive edge to her words. "I am no swooning maiden in need of rescue."
Her reaction hits me like a splash of cold water.
Oh. Oh.
I lean back, studying my sister with new eyes. The way she's suddenly so prickly at the mere mention of Erik, the blush staining her cheeks... could it be? Is my tough-as-nails Valkyrie sister actually attracted to the brooding vampire?
And then there was Erik's reaction earlier. I noticed something in his eyes when he looked at my sister, especially when she held that knife to that Valkyrie's throat. His stare was intense, almost possessive.
The thought alone is enough to make me choke on my mead. I quickly cover it with a cough, trying to hide my sudden revelation. This is... unexpected. And potentially hilarious.
I make a mental note to keep a closer eye on these two. If there's even a hint of sparks flying, you can bet your ass I'm going to be there with a bucket of metaphorical gasoline, ready to fan the flames.
After all, what are sisters for if not meddling in each other's love lives?
"Can we talk about the cosmic-sized plot twist that is my love life?" I say, making Bryn raise an eyebrow. "Nobody saw this coming—not even my guardian angel Seraphina. Dear old Dad was convinced I was corrupted because I bonded with a vampire. Talk about parental disapproval."
"Corrupted?" Bryn snorts, her warrior pride flaring. "By the Gods, our father can be as blind as Odin, and he still has both eyes! The signs were clear in the ancient texts—two saviors, bound by fate and power."
"But if everyone thought Rhyland was dead, what was Plan B?" I ask, swirling my mead. "The prophecy's pretty specific about needing a mate. Who was supposed to be my magical battery charger?"
"It had to be someone of divine blood," Bryn explains, her eyes glinting in the candlelight.
"The gods planned to create another godborn or choose from their existing offspring.
But fate," she smirks, "had its own designs.
You were always meant to be Rhyland's match.
The gods just took their sweet time catching up. "
I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Even the so-called all-knowing gods didn't see this coming. They can take their "chosen plan" and shove it right up their divine asses.
She straightens, all business now. "You leave for the Valhallas Veil at first light. There's quests to be done, before you can reach the Nexus."
"Right," I nod. "So what fun surprises are waiting to kill me when I try to grab this magical rock?"
Bryn's expression turns serious. "The Nexus rises above even the Cloud Palaces, its peak touching the stars.
The stone rests at the top—a sacred site where the purest essence of air converges.
Only those deemed worthy by the winds themselves can approach.
But reaching it..." She trails off, her eyes distant.
"Getting there means visiting Valhalla's Veil—a wasteland crawling with draugr and frost giants—amongst other trials.
And that's assuming the great eagles of Hraesvelgr don't decide to make a snack of you first."
Great. Another magical obstacle course designed to test my worth. Apparently, just asking nicely for these stones would be too easy. At least this time, I've got a warrior sister to help guide me through whatever celestial American Ninja Warrior course awaits at the spire.
"Oh yeah, sounds like a total cakewalk," I say, aiming for confidence but probably landing somewhere between 'mildly hysterical' and 'barely concealed panic.'
"By the Norns, you'll do fine," Bryn grins, splashing water in my direction. "You're the savior after all—what's a little death-defying climb compared to everything else you've faced?"
Her tone carries that perfect blend of sisterly encouragement and warrior's challenge.
The thought of facing ethereal beings who can manipulate air currents while navigating what's essentially a tornado turned sideways? Yeah, that's going to be fun. But hey, what's one more near-death experience in the name of saving the realms?
Islip into our room after my bath, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind me.
The space is small but cozy, tucked away from the main hall like a secret sanctuary.
A hearth blazes in the corner, its flames painting the stone walls in dancing shadows and warm light.
Thick fur rugs cover the floor, their softness tickling my bare feet, while a jumbo bed dominates the center of the room, piled high with more furs that look sinfully inviting.
My man is lounging by the fire, the flames highlighting every ridge and valley of his bare chest. His wet hair is slicked back, and drops of water still trail down his neck and over those intricate tattoos I love to trace.
His leather pants sit low on his hips, and his freshly trimmed beard accentuates his strong jaw in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
He's the perfect picture of a Nordic warrior meets a romance novel cover model.
"How was your bath?" he asks, his ocean-blue eyes drinking me in as I cross the room. His voice carries that deep rumble that never fails to send shivers down my spine.
I pad across the furs, the thick blanket draped around me like a royal cloak. "Good. Relaxing. How about yours?"
His hungry eyes track my movement like a predator, darkening as I slip between his spread thighs. "Would've been better with you there instead of brooding with Mr. Stoic," he growls, his hands finding my hips through the fur.
"Aw, what's wrong?" I tease, enjoying how his nostrils flare as he catches my scent. "Getting tired of Erik's sophisticated company?"
His fingers find the gap in the fur, his breath hitching when he realizes I'm utterly bare underneath.
"Fuck, Angel. Did you walk through the hall wearing nothing but this?
" His voice drops to that dangerous register that makes heat pool between my thighs.
Possessive jealousy flashes in those Nordic eyes, making me grin.
I let the fur slide off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. His pupils blow wide, nearly drowning out that ocean blue as his gaze devours every inch of my exposed body. The fire's warmth kisses my bare skin as I straddle his thick thighs, settling into his lap.
"You're avoiding my question, Rhyland."
His big hands find my breasts, rough palms cupping their weight as his thumbs brush over my nipples. "What question was that?" he asks, his voice thick with need as he kneads the soft flesh.
I arch into his touch, a gasp escaping as he pinches the sensitive peaks. "About—ah—Erik's mood?"
"Because he's being a fucking idiot," he growls before capturing my nipple between his lips. The wet heat of his mouth sends electricity shooting through my body. "And it's pissing me off."
I pull back, ignoring the whimper of protest that escapes my throat. "About what?"The need for answers temporarily overrides the burning desire coursing through my veins.
His big paws claim my ass, yanking me forward until I'm pressed against the impressive bulge straining his leather pants.
"Angel..." he growls, his lips finding that sweet spot on my neck that makes my toes curl.
His teeth scrape along my collarbone, marking a path of fire across my skin while his fingers knead my ass with possessive intent.
"Rhyland..." I try to create some distance, but he's having none of it. He rocks up against my core, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my body.
Frustrated with his noticeable deflection, I grab his face between my palms. "Are you going to answer me or just keep trying to distract me with your considerable... talents?"
A heavy sigh escapes him, his eyes clouding with something I can't quite read. "No, baby. I can't."
The words hit me like a tidal wave. This is new territory for us—dangerous and unsettling.
We've never kept secrets since that first night when he finally opened up to me.
It was an unspoken pact, sealed with trust and strengthened by our bond.
The fact that he's holding something back now makes my stomach tense.
"Why?" The word comes out sharper than I intend, worry starting to gnaw at my insides.
Rhyland's eyes drop, his jaw clenching in that way that tells me he's struggling. "He asked me not to say anything. I gave him my word."
His tatted hands capture my face, forcing me to meet his eyes now stormy with conflict. "Don't look at me like that, Angel. I respect my brother, even if he's stubborn about this. But it has to come from him."
My mind spirals with dark possibilities, each theory more terrifying than the last. The way Erik acted on the training grounds—those intense stares that seemed to burn holes through the air, that suspicious coughing fit that felt more like a cover-up than actual distress.
Is there something wrong with him? Did the wards do something to him?
Or worse—is he showing signs of corruption, like those other vampires who lost their humanity and turned feral?
I've seen what happens when vampires go dark side, and the thought of our refined, controlled Erik succumbing to that kind of madness makes my blood run cold.
What could be serious enough to make Mr. Stoic—the vampire equivalent of a Swiss vault when keeping his composure—swear Rhyland to absolute secrecy?
The possibilities swirling through my head are enough to make me feel sick. Erik's been there for me through everything—the thought of something being wrong with him, something so profound that Rhyland won't even tell me about it, makes me worry more.
"Is he okay?" I press, worry, making my voice crack. "You're freaking me out here. What's wrong with Erik?"
"He'll be fine, baby." The words sound hollow even as they leave his lips, his expression doing nothing to ease my concerns.
I slip from his grasp when he reaches for me, trying to draw me into a kiss.
My bare feet pad across the fur rugs until I reach the bed, crawling under the thick pelts.
Behind me, Rhyland releases a frustrated growl that echoes off the stone walls.
I get it—he's caught between loyalty to his brother and honesty with his mate.
But Erik isn't just Rhyland's brother anymore—he's my family, too.
The thought that something's wrong with him, something serious enough to warrant secrets between us, makes my stomach twist into knots.
I can't lose Erik.
The bed dips under Rhyland's considerable weight as he slides in beside me. I roll onto my side, facing the dancing flames in the hearth, putting my back to him.
"Goodnight," I mutter, knowing I'm being petty but unable to help myself.
Through our bond, I feel his emotions warring—frustration and anger mixing with guilt and worry. The feelings wash over me in waves until exhaustion pulls me under, dragging me into uneasy dreams.