Chapter Seven
–Katana–
IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE to convey just how hard it was to keep my fluctuating emotions under control when Torsten’s dark side scooped me up and left me no choice but to sit on his lap on the rocky throne in what he claimed was the Keep. Or at least some version of it.
Almost from the moment he sat down, dug his hand into my hair, and closed his mouth over mine, I knew it was my chance to bring his kinder side back.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his darker, rougher half a second longer than I should have.
It didn’t matter that their kisses were nearly identical.
I wanted to feel both sides of him.
All of him, because nothing had ever felt better when we kissed as though it wasn’t our first but one of many, like we knew each other well.
Yet it still held the intoxicating thrill of a new kiss.
Of coming together for the first time and knowing no one else would ever kiss you so perfectly. Never give you that same rush.
A rush I knew, without question, would be a thousand times more intense when we slept together.
When I let his sizeable, rock-hard length inside me.
Not surprisingly, a painful ache blossomed between my thighs, not only because I longed for that moment but because I knew I had lived it, if only in dreams.
And I knew I had only ever been with his darker side.
Something his kinder side didn’t need to know, as I focused on pulling him back to me through the memory we shared in that chair. That was best for now, because this was our moment, and his kiss was just as potent. Just as delicious.
Yet when it ended and our eyes connected, I knew I would never be satisfied with just the one. I had to have both. Not just the good, but the bad. Not only the good guy, but the bad guy, too. And somehow, someway, I needed to make that happen. Have them all at once. Both at once.
Even as I thought it, I saw how I was working against myself.
How leaving him behind to return to the future would be next to impossible.
So maybe my best path forward was to keep them separate, so I didn’t lose myself to him, them, entirely.
Yet despite that reasoning, I sensed the only way for us to defeat Skarde and keep the crown safe was to help him bring his two personalities into harmony.
To help him accept all aspects of himself, no matter how different they were.
Now, we would have to wait and see whether I truly had any sway, but in the meantime, Torsten seemed to be allowing his darker side to guide him as he led us deeper into the cave, or possibly even the Keep, to a place where I could rest. We had just started up a set of rocky stairs that looked familiar, only to realize, after Torsten asked his sister if she recognized them as well, that she and Taro had vanished.
“Frey?” he exclaimed, looking around in shock, as baffled as I was because they had just been behind us.
“I’m here, brother,” she replied. “But you and Katana are not, nor are the stairs as they were. Instead, there’s nothing but a steep row of jagged, impassable rocks in front of us.”
“Yet we’re right here,” he assured as we went down several steps, trying to see them since we heard her so clearly, but there was no sign of them. “As are the stairs and torches.”
“We see none of that,” Taro said, clearly as baffled as the rest of us. “We hear you, but can’t see you or the torches.”
“So what now?” I wondered, not about to leave without them, and said so. “Maybe we should walk back to the War Chamber where we might be able to see each other again?”
“I don’t think that's going to happen,” Torsten said grimly. “Something tells me the Keep wants us to continue on alone, Katana. That for now we’re supposed to go in a different direction than Frey and Taro.”
He pointed out what I had only just noticed. A dead end where we had walked moments before. One that obviously didn’t exist for the other two.
“If we’re within the safety of the Realm, it stands to reason you are, too, Frey,” Torsten went on. “That said, you should return to where we saw the cherry tree. Something tells me without us with you things will begin to look more familiar this time.”
“Why?” Frey sounded troubled. “How could you know that, brother? And what of Skarde? How will we help protect you from him if we’re not there, as I don’t doubt he’ll pursue you, not us.”
“’Tis nothing you need worry about.” Torsten sounded certain, and I agreed with his assessment. “What matters most is getting back to the real Keep so you can warn them about what’s happening. Mayhap Blaze, Marjorie, or even our head seer, áma, knows of some way to connect with us.”
“Is this what you want me to do, too, Kat?” Taro sounded just as troubled as Frey. “If not, I’ll stay while Frey goes and—”
“No, you should go,” I said, cutting him off, never meaning anything more. “You and Frey need to stick together and keep each other safe, just in case Skarde decides you’re the easier target.”
Torsten nodded in agreement.
“If you’re sure?” Taro said tentatively.
“I am.” I kept my tone strong and reassuring, making sure he heard the confidence in my voice. “You’ve trained me well, so I’m good. No worries, my friend.”
Thankfully, our inner beasts could still sense each other despite the odd barrier between us, and he finally agreed. So did Frey, although begrudgingly.
“Come,” Torsten said after the other two left, holding his hand out to me. “Let’s get you to safety so you can rest.”
“Is that really such a good idea?” I looked at his hand tentatively. “What if your darker side takes advantage of the contact somehow?”
“He won't,” Torsten replied without hesitation, surprising me. “I’m not sure how I know, but I do. Right now, he wants you to rest as much as I do.”
Something about his certainty must have translated to my inner beast, because I didn’t hesitate to slip my hand into his after that, and we continued up the stairs.
When we did, I realized we had done this before, too.
Moments later, a dream materialized before us in such detail that we saw our ethereal selves walking hand in hand ahead of us. We didn’t appear to be much older than we’d been when we kissed on the throne.
“Where are we going?” I wondered, not quite remembering yet.
“I would say they’re going to show us,” he replied. “Or better still, the Keep, such as it is at the moment, will show us.”
“Which version of you is that?” I nearly said, but refrained when they laughed together. Something I couldn't imagine his darker side doing, before a doorway appeared off to the side, and he pulled my ethereal self through it.
“What are you doing?” I asked, even as the scene unfolding became more and more familiar.
“I’m not sure.” His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Whilst the stairs seemed familiar, this dream, or memory as it were, does not.”
I swallowed hard, not so sure I wanted him to see what might be happening in that room.
What I knew I had done with his other half, however scattered the memories were.
Fortunately, when we arrived at the doorway, it wasn’t what I feared it might be, but it did confirm we had been witnessing his darker side.
That he’d been laughing clearly struck Torsten as more surprising than it did me, but then I had a feeling I alone could pull that out of him.
That I could pull out both sides of him and find the best in each version.
In this memory, or dream as it were, his darker side was proving to me that he could protect me no matter what, when he gestured at the scene unfolding, not in a castle chamber but in woodland near a cliff.
A storm was rolling in, and the ominous horizon was breathtaking, from the churning, angry sea to the vivid white lightning cutting across the darkening sky.
“I know this place.” Torsten’s narrowed gaze homed in on his ethereal self, who stood beside a few other fierce-looking Vikings, all well-armed, their eyes aglow with their inner beasts, challenging a wall of warriors opposite them. “I remember coming here afterward...”
I nearly asked after what when his darker ethereal half let out a low, sinister chuckle, issued a battle cry, and raced right at them with his blade drawn, caring nothing about the cliff at his back.
A place where his opponents clearly thought they had cornered him and his men, but Torsten seemed to know better, or just didn’t care, as he crossed blades with the first warrior he encountered.
I might have learned how to battle well in the ways of my ancestors, but nothing could have prepared my ethereal self or me for the sheer drive and ruthlessness that unfolded.
Watching him fight wasn’t just that, though.
It was so much more.
Where I had seen a taste of it on the shore of my chalet, that was nothing compared to how he battled against those he meant to kill.
The way he moved and wielded his blade was mesmerizing, slicing his sword through one man's neck while whipping a dagger into another's leg, striking just the right spot so he could end him when he dropped.
Even though it was just a memory caught in a dream, I could smell the metallic scent of blood on the icy wind and hear the cries of the fallen.
The roars of the victorious. Roars that only grew louder as men became dragons, and I saw Torsten’s great beast for the first time in all his glory, from his shimmering black scales to eyes as golden as his human ones.
He roared fire at the sky, then crashed into a dragon that rushed him, pushing him back, nearly off the cliff, before he snapped its neck and threw it over.
Then, without pause, he swung his great spiked tail and caught another dragon, yet never stopped moving, his beast fighting as well as his human counterpart before he shifted back once their last opponent was defeated.