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Reaper shifts positioning, bearing closer to me as if to offer comfort. His massive shoulder brushes mine. His amber gaze is full of unwavering resolve, and in this moment, I understand how he earned the name Reaper. It's a name made for a man who wouldn't hesitate to cut down anyone who dared to harm what he considers his own. He's fierce in his devotion, his loyalty as solid as his unbending will.
"Listen to me, Tori." His voice is soft, as if he understands the storm raging within me. "Fate doesn't ask us what we want. It gives us tasks we may not have chosen for ourselves."
I swallow hard, my gaze tangled with his as my heart races. He lifts a hand, brushing away a loose curl from my face with such care that my breath hitches. His touch is impossibly gentle, filled with an understanding that calms the turmoil inside me. But his skin against mine sears me, heat sinking all the way to my womb.
My nipples harden, a bolt of lust shooting through me despite the seriousness of the moment. It's as if my body doesn't care that my world has been knocked out of orbit. It wants this man ferociously and that's all that matters to it.
I see the same desire reflected in Reaper's gaze, but he controls it far better than I do, ruthlessly quelling it in his attempt to soothe my anxiety. He takes his vow to protect me seriously, it seems.
"You are powerful, far stronger than you think. You are just beginning to understand who you are—who you were born to be," he continues, his voice filled with conviction. "You are brave enough for the task fate set before you."
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I bite down on my lips to stop them from trembling. "M-maybe I don't want to be," I confess in a shaky whisper. "The men who t-took me killed my parents. If that's the kind of sacrifice fate has in store for me, I don't want it. I didn't ask for it."
I try hard not to let those memories intrude, desperately trying to avoid letting in that pain. I know when I do, it's going to break me. Right now, I don't think I have time to be broken. But pain ekes out around the edges of the barriers I've erected anyway, lashing at my heart.
"I know, solsken." His voice grows husky, as if he feels the pain ripping through me. "But we're warriors, Tori. The Fae and Valkyrie are bound by duty and destiny."
His words echo in the room. Duty. Destiny. Both seem so heavy now that they've been laid on my shoulders. I barely understand what either means—not in the same way the men in this room understand them—but I know enough to know they mean sacrifice and pain and grief.
Am I really strong enough to withstand more of that? I don't know. But if I am what they say I am, if I am a Valkyrie—do I have a choice?
I don't think I do because I didn't go looking for trouble. I didn't go looking for fate or destiny. It came looking for me. It plucked me out of my bed in the middle of the night without my consent, and my world has been pain and fear every day since. Until now. Until Reaper.
If he believes I'm strong enough for whatever is coming for me, perhaps I need to believe it too.
Chapter Three
Tori
Silence falls over the room, broken only by the click of Malachi's beads against the wall and the way my teeth chatter together. Everyone looks at me and Reaper without looking at us, doing their best to give us a little privacy where there is none to be had.
Eventually, Reaper slides his hand away from my face, resuming his crouch beside the bed. As soon as he's no longer touching me, I miss the warmth of his skin against mine.
Damrion clears his throat, shooting me an apologetic look. "I wouldn't ask, but it's important," he begins. "Do you remember what happened to you? Who took you?"
"I remember." I force the words out, my voice shaky but firm. The memory of that night is branded on my mind as if forged by molten flame. "They…they weren't human."
"Nei, they were not." Reaper's eyes burn with deadly malice. "They're called the Forsaken, little Valkyrie."
"The Forsaken?"
"Soulless monsters who have given themselves over to evil, stealing the souls of the dead," Rissa says, her tone flat.
"That explains so much," I whisper.
"Like what?" Humor reflects in Malachi's eyes. "The putrid stench of death that surrounds them?"
Reaper shoots him a warning glare, but his question brings a tiny smile to my lips, the first in days. He's funny.
"Yes, that," I say, earning a chuckle from the irrepressible warrior before I sober again. "They kept talking about souls."
"The Forsaken are perversions of nature." Damrion's lips twist as if merely discussing them displeases him. "They're the soul-damned. Humans call them demons, but they came before any religion known to man. They came before humanity. They feed on souls, using them for their dark magic."
"They were evil before evil had a name," Dax supplies, his tone dark. "The only thing they fear is the Light."
"T-the Light?"
"The power of the Valkyrie and the Fae." The Fae with the scar, Adriel, raises his hand. Power gathers around him like a thousand fireflies being pulled inward. A second later, a blazing sword materializes in his hand, made entirely of Light. "This is our power," he says. "We wield Light. So do you."
