Chapter 41
Erik
Idon't recall moving. Don't remember crossing the space between us. One moment, I'm by the door; the next, my fingers are locked around this assholes throat, fangs bared in the firelight.
His pulse throbs against my palm, each desperate beat a reminder of how easily I can end his miserable existence. The acrid stench of fear mingles with stale mead as his feet dangle uselessly above the floor.
"Touch her again," my voice cuts through the silence like frozen steel, "and I'll paint these walls with your entrails."
He chokes out a wet laugh, blood vessels bursting in his eyes. "Defending... damaged goods?" His words wheeze past my grip. "The great... vampire... playing hero for a... broken bird?"
The bones in his throat creak beneath my fingers. "Choose your next words carefully. They may be your last."
"She spreads... her legs... like a common whore..." Snot trickles from his nose. "Maybe... you want... sloppy seconds?"
Something snaps—a darkness I've kept chained for centuries breaks free.
My fist connects with his jaw—bone crunches beneath my knuckles.
Again. And again. Blood sprays across the floor, his face caving like ripe fruit.
I slam him into the nearest table, wood splintering beneath his bulk.
Each punch lands with surgical precision, centuries of combat experience focused on prolonging his pain.
"Erik!" Dani's voice barely penetrates the red haze. "Stop!"
I grab his throat, ready to tear it out—then warmth spreads across me. Dani's palm presses against my chest. My heart hammers against her touch, betraying everything. Her eyes dart between me and Bryn as pieces fall into place. There's no judgment in her gaze—just quiet acceptance and relief.
"He's not worth it," she whispers, fingers curling into my shirt. "Let him live with his shame."
The piece of shit whimpers beneath me, his face a masterpiece of purple bruises and flowing blood.
Gunnar crumples to the floor. My gaze finds Bryn's—dual-colored eyes wide with shock. Something electric passes between us, unspoken yet deafening. The welt on her cheek feeds the inferno in my veins.
I tear myself away before the beast breaks free. The longhouse door splinters as I burst into the night. The Arctic wind does nothing to cool my rage. My boots crack through ice-crusted snow, leaving violent impressions.
Without Dani's intervention, that Viking's blood would have painted those walls.
The thought of his hands on her, that mark on her face—my control splinters like the ice beneath my feet.
Through it all, Rhyland smirked from his corner, watching my composure snap because someone dared touch what's mine.
The evidence accumulates like battlefield casualties. That Viking bastard's ham-fisted attempts at dominance. His meaty hands presuming ownership while her wing pulls tight against her spine. The dead look in her eyes at his advances.
Bloody fucking hell.
Her tells are impossible to ignore now: the delay before acknowledging his touch, the subtle shift when he approaches, the way her eyes would find mine across the longhouse like a silent plea.
These truths burn through my defenses like acid. Rhyland, subtle as a war hammer, forced me to confront what I've been denying. Yet she still chose him—chose that bastard's abuse over everything I could offer.
"Erik, wait!" Bryn's boots crunch through the snow behind me, but I lengthen my stride. Looking at her now would shatter what remains of my control. Her choice was clear enough—let her return to her arrogant brute.
The stable's warmth envelops me as I stride inside. Flickering torchlight dances across rough-hewn beams, casting restless shadows. Sweet hay and leather tack fill my lungs as I plant my feet in the center aisle, seeking any anchor against this storm.
Wood groans as Bryn heaves the stable doors shut. Her footsteps echo off the stone as she approaches. "You didn't have to do that. Why do you always feel the need to protect—"
Something snaps. I pivot to face her, my pulse racing. "Because." The word tears from my throat. "Are you truly so blind?"
The purple welt marring her cheek feeds my rage—another failure to protect what's mine.
"Blind?" Bryn's laugh cuts sharp and bitter. "I see perfectly clear. I'm half a Valkyrie now—stripped of my command, my honor." Her wing trembles with tension. "What good am I to anyone?"
"You truly believe that?" I stalk toward her, each step measured despite the rage and need coursing through me. "The warrior who's trained harder than any other? Who fights with more skill using one wing than most possess with two?"
"Don't." She backs away, but her scent betrays her—sweet honey and lightning, laced with arousal. "I don't need your pity."
"Pity?" The word tastes like poison. "Is that what you think this is?" Another step closer, backing her toward the stable wall. Her pulse quickens, and her pupils dilate. "You think I defend you out of duty?"
"Why else would you?" Her voice wavers, but her chin lifts in defiance. "I'm broken, Erik. Damaged. Even the Valkyries don't want—"
"You are magnificent." The words tear from my throat as I close the distance.
"Every scar, battle, triumph, and loss make you who you are.
" My body cages hers against the wall, close enough to feel her heat but not quite touching.
Her scent floods my senses, making my fangs ache.
"While you chase validation from lesser men, you fail to see your own worth. "
"And you think you know my worth?" Her breath catches as I lean closer, her arousal spiking sharply enough to make my cock hard as steel.
"I see everything." My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Your strength. Your resilience. Your beauty." Each word brings me closer until barely a breath separates us. "The way you move in battle like a goddess of war. The fire that burns in your eyes when you fight."
"Stop it." Bryn ducks under my arm, retreating deeper into the stables. "You don't get to say these things. Not now." Her scent betrays her—desire mixing with fury.
"Why not?" I follow her measured retreat, every step a predator stalking prey. "Because it challenges your carefully constructed self-hatred?"
"Because it's lies!" She whirls on me, backing into a support beam. "Look at me, Erik! Really look! One wing, stripped of rank, fucking an asshole just to prove I still can—"
"And how's that working for you?" My words cut sharp and precise. "Does his touch satisfy? Or do you lie there, thinking of someone else?"
Her cheeks flush, pupils blown wide. "You arrogant bastard—"
"Tell me I'm wrong." Another step closer. Her scent drives me mad—lightning in a bottle, crackling with defiance and need. "Tell me you don't feel this."
"What I feel doesn't matter." She edges sideways, but I match her movement. "I'm not what I was. Not what I should be—"
"You're everything you should be." My voice drops to a dangerous growl. "Strong. Fierce. Untamed." Each word brings me closer as she retreats. "You think losing a wing makes you less? It makes you more. Every battle, every scar—they're proof of your warrior spirit."
"Pretty words from the perfect soldier." Her back hits another wall. "The great Erik, always in control, always—"
"Control?" A harsh laugh escapes me. "You think I'm in control when you're near? When I have to watch that scumbag, put his hands on, what's mine?"
"What's yours?" Her eyes flash dangerously. "I belong to no one, Erik. Not the Valkyries, not that asshole, and certainly not—"
"You've belonged to me since we landed in Valor's Watch." The truth finally breaks free, raw and unstoppable. "One look at you, and my entire world shifted on its axis."
The memory of landing in Valor's Watch slams into me—that first moment I saw her when the mate bond exploded through my system like fire. Everything I thought I knew shattered instantly, and decades of control and careful planning were obliterated by glancing at those mismatched eyes.
Her laugh is sharp, brittle. "Right. The mighty Erik claimed the broken Valkyrie. Is this pity or—"
"You're my mate." The words hang in the torch-lit air between us. "My true mate. I knew it the instant our eyes met in that training ring."
"Don't." She shakes her head, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice. "Don't mock me with—"
"You think I'd mock this?" I close the distance, letting her see the truth in my eyes. "Why do you think I've barely held my sanity since we arrived? Why your pulse calls to me like a siren's song? Why the mere thought of another man's hands on you drives me to murder?"
"That's..." Her voice falters as understanding begins to dawn. "No, that's impossible. I was meant for—"
"Rhyland. Yes, I know. But fate had other plans." My fingers hover near her cheek, not quite touching. "I've fought this since that first moment, watching you from afar, telling myself you deserved better than a cold-blooded killer."
"You're lying." But there's less conviction now, her body betraying her as she unconsciously leans toward my touch. "You can't be..."
"Search your heart. You've felt it too—this pull between us. The electricity whenever we're near. The way your body responds to my presence, just as mine aches for you."
Bryn jerks away, stumbling backward into the shadows. "No. This isn't—I can't—" Her wing brushes hay from the stalls, sending golden strands dancing in the torchlight.
Her eyes betray what her lips deny—desire warring with doubt, need fighting fear. Nearly a thousand years of patience crumbles at the sight.
To hell with restraint.
"Fuck it."
In less than a heartbeat, I cross the space between us. My hand catches the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in silken strands as I crush my mouth to hers.
Lightning explodes behind my eyes. Her gasp melts into a moan that vibrates through my bones. She tastes like storm clouds and honey. My fangs scrape her lip, drawing blood that sets my senses ablaze.
Her body arches, wing wrapping around us in feathered warmth. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as her curves press against me, her thundering heart matching mine.
I press her against the stable wall, swallowing her whimpers. Her tongue meets mine, sending sparks down my spine. The scent of her arousal spikes, making my cock throb against my leathers.
My mouth blazes a trail down her throat, across her collarbone, seeking lower—tasting salt and storm, each kiss drawing desperate sounds.
Her breasts press against my chest, the stiff peaks evident through her shirt. I palm one, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. The weight fills my hand perfectly as my thumb traces circles. Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking me back to her hungry mouth.
Gullfax's mocking whinny echoes through the stable, his golden head bobbing over the stall door. I tear my lips from Bryn's just long enough to growl, "Mind your business, stallion," before returning to her intoxicating mouth.
Her tongue slides against mine, soft and teasing. Each breathy moan vibrates through my chest, threatening my control. This kiss consumes me, shatters me, remakes me.
The stable doors crash open. "Bryn, are you—oh, sweet Odin's ravens!" The Valkyrie's wings snap tight as she spins, practically flying back through the doorway.
Bryn tears her lips from mine, chest heaving. "This was a mistake. We can't—I can't."
"Running away?" Ice edges my voice as I feel her pull back. "That's not like you, little bird."
"Don't." She straightens her disheveled shirt, but her hands shake. "Don't call me that. This isn't—we aren't—" She releases a frustrated breath. "Once you have the stone, you'll return to Midgard. Your duty lies with Dani, with protecting the savior."
"And what about my duty to you?" I step closer, but she backs away. "To us?"
"There is no us!" Her wing flares defensively, but I catch the pain in her dual-colored eyes. "I'm bound to Zephyria. This is my home, my purpose. I can't just abandon everything I've built here."
"Then I'll stay." The words escape before I can stop them. "If Zephyria is where you need to be—"
"No." Her voice cracks. "My sister needs you. The realms need you. I won't be the reason you abandon your post." She lifts her chin, but I see the tremor in her jaw. "I'm a broken Valkyrie who can barely fly. What could I possibly offer—"
"Everything." I catch her wrist, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers. "You offer me everything. And if you think I'm letting you go because of duty or distance or your own damned stubbornness—"
"Let me go, Erik." But she doesn't pull away, her body betraying her words.
"Never." I draw her closer despite her resistance. "We'll find a way. Between realms, between duties. But don't stand there and tell me you feel nothing when every beat of your heart screams otherwise."
"You don't understand," Bryn wrenches her wrist free. "I can't be what you need. I won't be." Her wing wraps around her like armor. "I've spent centuries building my life here, my reputation. I won't throw that away for some... some magical bond that claims we're meant to be together."
The word 'claims' cuts deeper than any blade. "This isn't just some spell, Bryn. You feel it too—"
"What I feel is irrelevant." Ice crystallizes in her voice. "I've survived this long without a mate. I don't need one now, especially not a vampire who can't even protect my own sister without help."
The deliberate cruelty of her words strikes hard. My hands fall to my sides as something vital shatters in my chest. "Bryn—"
"Go back to your duties, Erik." She turns away, her wing trembling despite her harsh tone. "And I'll go back to mine. It's better this way."
She turns, boots clicking against stone as she strides away. Each step echoes like a death knell in my chest.
My knees give out the moment she's gone.
I slam a fist into the stable floor, stone crumbling beneath my knuckles.
Each breath feels like swallowing glass, the mate bond screaming in agony at her rejection.
The pain is unbearable—a crushing weight that threatens to collapse my ribs and tear my heart from my chest.
I press my forehead to the cool stone as I fight for control. But how do you control this? This soul-deep devastation that comes from having your other half look you in the eye and choose to walk away?
A sound escapes my throat—something between a growl and a sob. The stable walls press in, every shadow a reminder of her absence. Even Gullfax has fallen silent as if the stallion senses the breaking of something fundamental.
Let the shadows take me. Let oblivion claim what's left of my cursed existence. Without her, there's nothing but darkness ahead.