Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"I don't want to talk!" she cries, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Don't you get it? I don't want to…I don't want…" Her shoulders shake, the blade wavering.
"Don't want what, ljúfr?" I ask, my voice soft.
"I don't want to remember leaving them there to die!" she sobs, the blade winking out as her knees buckle. "They t-told me to run, and I did. I j-just…left them there!" Her expression crumbles as she collapses beneath the weight of her grief.
I'm at her side in two steps, pulling her into my arms as she cries in a way I doubt she's cried since the Forsaken ripped her from everything she knew. Sobs wrack her body, tears pouring from her.
I tuck her face against my shoulder, rocking her gently in my arms. Each shuddering gasp twists like a knife in my heart. I did this. I pushed her, demanding she face this. I can tell myself that it was necessary all I want, but that doesn't make the sharp blade of guilt any less painful as it pierces my heart over and over again.
She may be Valkyrie, but she's a woman, too. One who has endured unimaginable trauma. One who watched her parents sacrifice themselves to save her, who was ripped from everything she knew and thrust into a world of monsters and magic. One who needs time to heal, to trust, to find her place in this terrifying new world.
Did I trample all over her fragile trust, shattering it beyond repair already? Faen. Am I already loving her all wrong?
Nei, I don't believe that. I can't believe that.
"I'm so sorry, ljúfr," I murmur against her hair, stroking her back in soothing circles. "My intent was not to cause you pain. I intended only to help you."
But she doesn't respond, lost to the torrent of anguish pouring out of her. I rock her gently, whispering words of comfort in every language I know. Anything to let her know she's not alone. That I'm here, and I'll always be here.
She cries until she has no tears left, until her sobs fade to hiccupping breaths and soft whimpers. Until her body sags against mine, exhaustion pulling her under.
I press my lips to her crown, breathing in her sweet scent and the salty tang of her tears. "Rest now, Valkyrie. Let me watch over you."
A shudder runs through her. For a moment, I think she might pull away. But then she sags against me completely, the last of her resistance crumbling.
I gather her closer, one arm banded tight around her waist, the other cradling her head to my shoulder. In this frozen moment, as she dozes in my arms, nothing exists outside this room—no looming war, no ominous prophecies, no impossible choices. There is only Marion, soft, warm, achingly vulnerable, and mine to protect.
Gods. Who is she?
Chapter Four
Malachi
"How is she?" Reaper asks as I step off the bottom step into the living room a while later. My brothers and Stephan, the Blooded human warrior who works with us, all turn to look at me where they're cloistered near the front door.
"Sleeping," I say, scrubbing a hand down my face. Already, I feel like I'm too far away from her. Every time I leave her side, I feel the same way. But war won't wait. It's already pounding on our door. "Healing."
It's the same answer I give every time they ask.
Damrion nods, his lips pursed as he glances at our brothers, who are all staring up the stairs. It's a familiar sight. We've already been through this twice now, first with Rissa and then again with Tori.
"Does anyone else feel like we've been here before?" Dax asks wryly, crossing his arms.
"Ja," Reaper groans. "Except this Valkyrie isn't trying to escape through a window."
"Or convince us to let her out," Dax retorts, one brow arched.
"Touche." Reaper grins at him.
"Why isn't she trying to escape?" Stephan asks.
Instead of looking at him, my brothers look to me for answers. Even now, I'm not entirely sure what to tell them. There's far more to my Valkyrie than meets the eye, but unraveling the mystery of her past may be beyond us. The people who held the pieces are dead, killed by the Forsaken the night they kidnapped Marion. And she holds herself responsible for what happened to them. Grief is a powerful thing. Cutting through it to the heart of what she knows may prove impossible. Especially if I've already pushed too far in my quest to protect her.
She needed to let herself feel it…but that doesn't mean she'll easily forgive the fact that I made her face it. She's Valkyrie. No one holds a grudge quite like a Valkyrie.
"Her parents told her about this world," I murmur eventually. "At least they told her enough that the truth wasn't a shock to her like it was to Rissa or Tori."