Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
"I fear nothing, brother," the scarred man snarls, a menacing, deadly sound.
The other man takes a step toward him, a growl rumbling from his chest.
"Enough," the beautiful man beside the bed says, barely even raising his voice. It cracks across the room anyway, deep and rumbling. He never even takes his eyes off me. "My Valkyrie is awake."
The argument between the men beside the door immediately dies. All four of them turn to look at me, seemingly startled to find me awake.
I shrink backward on the bed, cowering under the blankets. I'm not afraid. But they're massive, deadly. And I'm five-foot four, snuggled in a bed that doesn't belong to me, not entirely sure what's going on.
"Hi," I squeak, my heart pounding.
"Don't be afraid, little Valkyrie," the beautiful giant crouched beside the bed croons, his deep voice like water tumbling over rocks. "You're safe here. If you suffer, I suffer with you. I would rather let the entire world crumble into darkness than see you hurt. I will do whatever it takes to protect you from harm. No matter what, you will always be safe with me. That is my vow to you."
"I…" My eyes shift across his face, the solemnity of his vow reverberating deep within my soul. I don't have to ask to know he means it. I feel it as if I spoke those words myself.
This strange, beautiful man would let the world burn to protect me. No, that's not true. He'd burn it himself to protect me. The sudden urge to cry is overwhelming. I curl my hands into fists beneath the blankets, letting the bite of pain as my jagged nails sink into my palms ground me.
"I know you. Who are you?" I ask when I'm sure I can speak without sobbing. My voice shakes, but I don't crack.
"Ja, you do. You called my soul, binding it to yours. My name is Kyron. I'm known to most as Reaper."
"Reaper," I whisper.
"What's your name, little Valkyrie?"
"T-Tori. Tori Golding."
He whispers my name like a kiss, his amber eyes flickering across my face. I fight the urge to shiver, acutely aware of the five other people in the room, watching us intently. But I can't seem to focus on them. I can't pull my eyes from Reaper long enough to look at them. He's claimed my undivided attention in a way that isn't quite natural. It's as if my entire being is hyperfocused on him, vibrating on his frequency.
I've never felt anything like it before, but after days of nothing but pain and fear and grief, it's a delicious reprieve.
"W-what are you?"
Reaper hesitates for a long moment.
"You aren't human. I know you aren't."
"Nei, we are not." Reaper sighs. "We're Fae, little Valkyrie."
Fae. I suppose that should mean something to me, but it doesn't. Not really. I mean, I've heard the term. I read a lot of books. I even heard the men who kidnapped me speak it. But he might as well have told me he was from Pluto for all the good that does me.
The girl by the door must sense my confusion. "Do you know anything about Norse mythology, Tori?"
I shift my gaze in her direction.
"The Fae aren't from here," she says, her voice soft. "They're from Álfheimr, one of the nine realms the Scandinavian people celebrated. Their world was destroyed a long time ago. Those who remained guarded Valhalla." A shadow passes over her eyes. "But Valhalla is gone now too. The Fae have been stranded on earth for the last three hundred years."
My eyes flit back to Reaper. "You're three hundred years old?"
"Nei. I'm quite a bit older than that, little Valkyrie."
"I…" I trail off, not sure what to say to that. Not sure what to say to any of it, honestly. Part of me—the logical part—wants to reject what I'm being told out of hand. Other worlds don't exist. People from other worlds don't get stranded on earth. And no one lives for quite a bit longer than three hundred years.
Except they aren't lying to me, and this isn't the first time I've heard these words in the last few days. When they thought I wasn't listening, I heard the men—monsters—who kidnapped me whispering about Valhalla and Valkyrie and portals and the Fae. I thought it was gibberish. I thought I imagined it.
I don't think I imagined anything. Somehow, my dull, ordinary life has become inexplicably tangled with things far beyond my comprehension. What I know about Norse mythology wouldn't even fill a thimble.
I guess you get to learn now, don't you?
"Are you okay, solsken?" Reaper asks.
I bite my lip and nod, not trusting my voice. And then I realize I have to speak anyway, as two dozen questions battle for dominion, crashing together in my mind like the sad wreckage of…well, whatever my life has become.