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"Tori," I whisper, trying to break through whatever nightmare has taken hold of her. "Valkyrie. I'm here."
Her screams intensify, driving sharp claws straight into my heart.
I hold her tighter, bringing her closer to my chest.
"Wake up, little Valkyrie. I'm here and you're safe now," I say, trying to ground her with my voice.
She flails against me for a few seconds longer before finally going limp in my arms. Her screams quiet to ragged gasps for breath.
I stroke her hair back from her face, crooning to her. "You're safe, solsken. You're safe. I'm right here."
Her eyes flutter open. Such raw fear reflects in the blue depths that it feels like a hammer blow knocking me flat on my back. And then she seems to recognize me. The fear slowly ebbs from her eyes, overwhelming relief sweeping in to take its place.
"Reaper," she chokes, tears dripping down her face. "Reaper."
"Shh."
"I-I saw…death…I saw…" she stammers, unable to form coherent sentences as she simultaneously tries to explain what she saw and push away the images still haunting her.
"You're safe now. I'm here." I press gentle kisses to her forehead and cheeks, desperate to soothe her haunted mind.
"I s-saw you d-die. I felt it."
Ah, Gods. All this devastation for me? The day Álfheimr fell was the last time I shed a tear. I didn't even weep when the last Valkyrie's Light was extinguished, and Valhalla fell to ruin. But my throat grows tight now.
This brave, beautiful little Valkyrie called my soul and taught my heart to beat again. She taught it to weep again, too. My hands—hands that have killed and destroyed without regret in the name of the Light—shake as I dry her tears.
The door whispers shut behind Rissa as she slips from the room, leaving us alone.
"I'm here," I vow to Tori. "Whatever you saw in your nightmare will not come to pass, little Valkyrie. I won't allow it." My lips glide across her forehead. "Nothing will untangle my soul from yours."
"D-do you mean it?" She stares up at me, hope slowly replacing grief and despair in her eyes. "Are our souls really connected?"
"Ja." Now that I have my hands on her, I can't bring myself to pull them off again. I hold her close, running my lips all over her face. My hands run up and down her arms and sides, trying to bring her comfort. And taking a little of my own.
My cock hardens despite myself.
I can't help the reaction. It's instinctive, as much a part of our bond as my need to protect her against all comers. She's warm and vibrant in my arms, and this Fae loves the way she feels.
I've never had a mate. The Fae do not jump in and out of bed for a simple moment of pleasure. That isn't our way. When we mate, it's permanent, as unalterable as the sun. And no Fae oathbound to protect Valhalla has ever had a mate until Dax. We couldn't keep our oath to Odin and protect Valhalla and the Valkyrie above all others when the bond between mates supersedes all else.
But my soul is entwined with hers now. She is my mate. And my body is eager to know hers, mate to mate. Nei, it's not eager. It's desperate. I want her spread out beneath me, lost in a sea of pleasure as I pound into her. That's what this beautiful little Valkyrie should know—pleasure so intense it eclipses everything else.
"Why doesn't that scare me, Reaper?" She tips her face up to mine, the question reflecting in her eyes as she studies me. Tears still tremble on her lashes. Even with them, she's beautiful—a radiant star standing against the Dark. "Why don't you scare me?"
"Because you know I belong to you, Valkyrie," I whisper. "My soul is yours to command. For as long as I have breath in my body, I will be yours."
A river of emotion flows through her sapphire eyes at my words—hope, awe, and fierce pride glimmering like tiny stars in their depths. A tremble passes through her. "I…" she stammers, trying to find words, but they seem to be stuck in her throat. Her lips part again, her breath hitching in the intimate silence between us. "Kiss me, Reaper," she finally whispers. "Please, kiss me."
A surge of desire roars through me, crashing against my self-restraint like a tidal wave. I groan, pulling her closer, desperate to fill her lips against mine. Even through my desperation, I fight to move slowly, trying to give her time to retreat, but she doesn't falter.
I cup her cheek, brushing away the wetness from her lashes with my thumb. Her skin is like velvet under my calloused fingers. She shivers at my touch, but there's no fear in her eyes.
"Are you sure?" I ask anyway, needing to hear her confirmation even though I feel her desire fluttering through the threads of our bond like the wings of a bird.
"Yes," she whispers with such sweet innocence. And such conviction. Fate may have been unkind to this Valkyrie lately, but she isn't delicate. She's as fierce as any of her ancestors who ever stood in Valhalla. And as steadfast.
My heart pounds like a war drum as I lean in. The faintest hint of honeysuckle clings to her skin and hair, sending my senses into overdrive. Her eyelashes flutter closed as my lips descend on hers. The kiss is feather-light at first—barely a whisper of contact. But at the taste of her on my tongue, we both go up like kindling. The raw intensity of it consumes us both.
