Chapter 40 - Rhyland
Rhyland
Six fucking days of sleeping alone while Dani camps out in Bryn's quarters. Six days of watching my mate exhaust herself in the training ring, pushing Bryn through drills like a woman possessed. Meanwhile, I'm stuck brooding with Erik, who's about as comforting as a stone wall with fangs.
Six fucking days of handling my own business like some horny teenager who just discovered his right hand.
My body's so wound up I'm ready to explode, and not in the fun way.
Every time Dani walks by, my cock stands at attention like it's trying to salute its commander.
This self-imposed celibacy is a special kind of torture that's got me acting like I'm back in puberty, discovering what my dick's for all over again.
And the worst part? She knows exactly what she's doing to me. Every little sway of those hips, every "accidental" brush against me—she's playing a dangerous game, and my control's hanging by a thread thinner than Erik's patience.
Six days of watching Erik and Bryn dance around each other in the training ring like two wounded predators.
Every time he tries to help, she shuts him down hard.
Something went down in that ice cave that neither of them is talking about—and whatever it was has turned their usual tension into a fucking glacier of awkward silences and avoided eye contact.
The tension between them is thick enough to choke on, and neither one's talking about what really happened. Just more secrets and silent suffering to add to our growing pile of shit to deal with.
Whatever happened on her little jaunt through the skies with Gullfax didn't do shit for her attitude either. She gave me the cliff notes version—something about a memory valley and dragons that look like goddamn otters, gifting her a tattoo.
Sure, it's probably some big damn deal, but I'm too pissed off to give a rat's ass right now. My mood is six feet in the goddamn dirt right now, and I can't bring myself to give a shit about whatever privileged information Gullfax decided to share with her.
If she thinks I'm going to keep playing this game of emotional hide-and-seek while she proves her point about honesty and trust, she's got another thing coming.
The Valkyries stripped Bryn of her command—a dick move that made my blood boil. These self-righteous bitches think losing a wing makes her less of a warrior? One wing down, and suddenly years of battlefield glory mean jack-shit. But their realm, their rules, and all that political bullshit.
Bryn's turned into a ghost of herself, moving through the halls like a shadow.
Dani keeps throwing sunshine and motivational speeches at her, but you can't fix a warrior's broken spirit with pretty words.
Dani's anguish burns through our bond every time Bryn shuts down another pep talk.
My mate's heart bleeds for her sister, and there isn't a damn thing I can do except watch them both suffer.
Fuck this whole situation sideways.
Tomorrow, we hunt down another one of these ancient bastards, and my gut's already churning.
The last Einherjar nearly took my mate's head off—watching her throw down with that ice-powered asshole nearly gave my heart a restart.
But fuck me if she didn't shine like a warrior goddess, all fury and power.
My fierce little mate, serving up divine ass-kicking with a side of sass.
Meanwhile, my silver-haired brother is still being a stubborn asshole, finding every excuse in the book not to claim Bryn. "She needs time," he says like he's some emotional expert.
Bullshit.
I see right through his righteous act—he's scared shitless she'll reject him.
And I get it. Having your mate tell you to fuck off?
That's a special kind of hell that makes death look like a vacation option.
But watching him dance around Bryn like she's the plague is starting to piss me off.
Man needs to grow a pair and face his fate, one way or the other.
"Planning to burn holes through her skull with that death stare?
" I growl over my mead, watching Erik's eyes track Bryn like a heat-seeking missile.
The girls are huddled by the fire, while we're doing our best to drink the longhouse dry.
At least the alcohol takes the edge off this fucking hunger for Dani.
These days, feeding's become a drive-by affair—she lets me bite, then dances away. My fangs ache for more than just a quick taste, my body screaming to pin her down and remind her exactly who she belongs to. This celibacy bullshit is going to drive me insane.
Erik keeps up his brooding silence, silver eyes locked on Bryn like she might disappear if he blinks. "For fuck's sake," I slam my cup down. "At least tell Dani the truth about the mate bond. Your secretive shit is getting real old, brother."
"Your sexual frustration is hardly my primary concern," Erik's voice cuts like ice, though his fingers tighten around his cup until the metal creaks. "Bryn has made her choice clear with that Viking warrior. I won't force a bond where it's not wanted."
I growl low, watching my brother retreat behind his walls of self loathing.
Fucking martyr.
"Listen well, brother," I lean forward, letting my voice drop to a lethal whisper.
"You have until midnight to stop this ethical martyrdom bullshit and claim what's yours, or I'm telling Dani everything.
Your choice if you want to keep hiding behind that silver-haired wall of denial, but I'm done letting your emotional shit cockblock my entire fucking existence. "
A flash of feral silver breaks through Erik's careful control. "You overstep," he warns, but there's a crack in his mask now. Good.
"No, brother. I'm just getting started."
"You know nothing of my situation," Erik's voice stays measured, but his eyes flash. "Bryn needs stability, not complications. Especially now."
"Bullshit." I drain my cup, setting it down. "She needs her mate, not some Viking dick who can't even look her in the eye since she lost her wing. You think I don't see him flinching every time she moves? Like she's damaged goods?"
A low growl rumbles from Erik's chest—the first crack in his precious control. "Watch yourself, brother."
"Or what? You'll brood at me harder?" I lean forward. "That warrior treats her like shit. Meanwhile, you're over here watching her every move like a starving man, planning fifty different ways to kill him in his sleep. How's that working out for you?"
"I've lived centuries without a mate," Erik's words are clipped, precise. "I can endure."
"Yeah? And how many of those centuries did you spend watching her fuck someone else?" The cup in Erik's hand crumples like paper. "That's what I thought."
"You push too far," he warns, but there's a tremor in his voice now.
"No, brother. I'm pushing exactly where it hurts. Because watching you two dance around each other is fucking pathetic. She's your mate. Fight for her."
"Fight for her?" Erik laughs. "While she lies with another? While she bears fresh scars, I failed to prevent? Tell me, brother, what exactly am I fighting for?"
"A mate who's trying to prove she's still worth something after losing everything.
" I slam my hand on the table, making the cups jump.
"You think she's fucking that Viking because she wants him?
She's trying to prove she's still desirable, you stupid fuck.
And every day you stay silent just confirms her fears. "
Something dangerous flashes in Erik's eyes. "You presume much."
"No, I observe while you wallow." I glance at Bryn, catching her eyes darting to Erik despite her conversation with Dani.
"She's watching you right now, wondering why the man she's drawn to won't even acknowledge her existence.
Meanwhile, you're here drinking yourself stupid and pretending it's noble suffering. "
"Enough." Erik's voice drops to a lethal whisper.
"Not even close to enough. You want to know what that Viking bastard said about her yesterday? Called her a 'broken bird' when he thought no one could hear. Said she's 'still useful in the bed, despite everything.' Like she needs his fucking pity."
The table splinters under Erik's grip, his careful control finally shattering. "He said what?"
I lean back, watching the predator finally wake in my brother's eyes. "Oh, now you want to do something about it?"
Erik's fingers uncurl from the splintered wood with deliberate slowness. His face smooths back into that practiced mask of indifference, but I catch the slight tremor in his jaw.
"Your attempt at manipulation is noted, brother," he says, voice arctic cold. "But Bryn's choices are her own."
"For fuck's sake," I growl. "You and your selfless sacrifice routine is getting real old. You think you're protecting her? All you're doing is proving every doubt she has about herself."
"And you believe forcing a mate bond would solve this?" His silver eyes narrow. "Perhaps I should follow your example—throw her over my shoulder and demand submission?"
"At least I'm not watching my mate settle for less while pretending it doesn't gut me.
" I catch Bryn's reflection in my cup, the way her wing droops when Erik won't meet her gaze.
"You think I don't see how she flinches every time that Viking touches her?
How she checks your reaction? Pathetic doesn't begin to cover this situation. "
"This discussion is finished." Erik rises with fluid grace, but I catch the slight shake in his hands. "Some battles aren't meant to be fought."
"No," I stand too, blocking his retreat. "Some battles are exactly what's needed. But hey, keep hiding behind your duty and honor. I'm sure watching another man claim your mate won't haunt you for the next few centuries."
His mask slips for just a second—long enough for me to see the raw agony beneath—before snapping back into place. Without another word, he turns and stalks away, his rigid posture screaming control while everything else about him bleeds defeat.
"Fucking idiot," I mutter, watching him go. Across the room, Bryn's wing twitches as she tracks his exit, her face a mirror of his hidden pain.
I've barely settled my ass back into my chair, reaching for what's left of my mead, when all hell breaks loose behind me.
"You're worthless now." That bastard Viking says to Bryn, his words slur like shit in sewage. "Just a washed-up Valkyrie. At least you're still good for one thing."
The scattered laughter from his warrior buddies sends my blood pressure spiking. These fuckers think this is funny? Let's see how hard they laugh with their spines decorating the walls.
"Fuck you, asshole!" My mate launches forward like an avenging angel, but I'm already there, pulling her back against my chest. As much as I'd love to watch her turn this bastard into Viking confetti, this isn't her fight.
"Know your place, little mortal," the drunk fuck sneers, mead dripping from his unkempt beard like dog slobber.
"This is between me and my broken Valkyrie.
" His meaty paw swings toward Bryn's face with all the grace of a dying troll.
"Come now, wingless one—time to earn your keep.
You may have lost your warrior's pride, but you still have other. .. uses."
"Fuck you, Gunnar," Bryn snarls.
I feel Dani's power surge against my restraining grip. My own beast claws at its cage, demanding blood. Where the hell is Erik? His mate's about to get—
The sound of a slap cracks through the longhouse like lightning. Bryn's head snaps sideways, a red handprint blooming on her cheek like a battle flag. Her wing flares, more in shock than pain.
The longhouse goes dead silent except for this soon-to-be-dead fucker's breathing. Even the fire seems to hold its breath, waiting for the storm about to break.
And it will. Because this asshole who's about to die—that's Erik's mate he just struck. And my brother? He's standing in the doorway, his eyes promising the kind of death that'll make the ancient Norse hells look like a summer vacation.
"Bryn!" Dani's cry rings out, fury and pain twisting through her voice. "How dare you touch my sister—I will kill—"
The rest of her threat dies in her throat as Erik moves. One second he's in the doorway, the next he's got Gunnar by the throat, lifting the bastard clear off his feet like he weighs nothing.
I lean back against the pillar, pulling Dani flush against my chest, my arms locked around her waist like steel bands.
Her heart's racing against my palms, but my attention's on Erik.
About fucking time my brother woke up and remembered he's got fangs.
Been watching him play the noble martyr so long I was starting to wonder if his balls had permanently retreated.
But that look in his eyes right now? That's the predator I've been waiting to see. That Viking fuck is about to learn why you don't touch a vampire's mate—and from the way Erik's eyes are blazing, it's going to be one hell of an educational experience.
Front row seats to a Viking's worst nightmare, and honestly? Couldn't happen to a more deserving asshole.