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He had no idea. He wasn’t dying. He thought. But he wasn’t healing at all, either. And he could no longer lock pain away.
But he couldn’t tell her that. She was blaming herself for the injuries he’d sustained, for being too slow to come to his rescue. When it was thanks to her that he was alive. If she hadn’t come after him, if she hadn’t fought for him, made him need to fight for her, he would probably be dead by now.
He just nodded.
She bit her lip, nodded, too.
Then she turned and ran away.
Chapter Three
Vidar watched his mortal savior disappear.
His first impulse was to run after her. Tell her she couldn’t run away from him now that she would have died for him, now that he’d killed for her. His world grew colder with every passing day, and he needed to wallow in the heat of her life and hunger.
He didn’t. And not because the pain he’d tried to ignore had grown overwhelming. It was because she’d run.
He must have mistaken her horror for hunger. She’d probably been processing what she’d done, been through, witnessed. Then her paralysis had shattered and she’d run for her life. She must think she’d been crazy to come after him, probably considered him an even bigger monster than those he’d killed.
Even if she didn’t, even if he hadn’t looked and felt like an animated corpse from a slasher movie, he shouldn’t go after her. All he’d accomplished with this stunt was to possibly maim himself permanently for the eternity he’d still live.
It was better for her to forget she’d ever seen him.
He hadn’t maimed himself.
Seemed Loki had wanted to give him a severe wrist slap by delaying his healing, giving him a taste of what stripping his regenerative powers would mean. For a full week, it had involved more pain than anything he’d ever experienced. But he had healed, fully.
Now he seemed to be just as fully out of his mind.
He was looking for her.
He’d spent the days ignoring the agony as he’d searched, registering only the frustration of each dead end. As he’d healed physically, his mind and senses had come back online. And then, through a mixture of detective work and his ability to absorb psychic echoes—a fundamental component of his shifting power—he’d found her, working in the hospital near the club where they’d met.
He’d shifted to a nondescript mortal form and followed her throughout her day. He’d watched her deal with emergencies in the E.R. with the same decisiveness and fearlessness that she’d shown while facing the scumbags he’d executed. Though dealing with personal danger was a world apart from dealing with that of others, she’d faced both with the resoluteness of a warrior.
Now he watched her walk briskly out of the hospital and into the cold night. Beneath her long coat, she was dressed in another loose, button-down shirt and a flowing ankle-length skirt, evidently her brand of work clothes. With the effect they had on him, the shapeless clothes could have been outrageous lingerie. He was harder than he’d ever been, even more than the other night. Either healing had boosted his libido this once, or her appeal had intensified since they’d shared that experience.
Which wasn’t a reason to follow her. He’d never sought out mortal women before. He’d always thought the benefits not worth the risks. To the women. And then, he’d seen the heartbreak Alvar had once suffered—and caused—when he’d gotten too attached to a woman doomed to age and die.
Not that he was in danger of forming such a soul-deep connection with anyone, mortal or immortal. But his position had always been that he wouldn’t allow his constant battles to invade their fragile lives.
This time, nothing he told himself worked. This woman made him realize he’d been able to abide by his code not out of nobility but because no one had appealed to him so much. He wanted her enough to disregard anything, starting with sanity.
And then, the rules that had applied before didn’t apply now. He wouldn’t live long enough to endanger her. He’d achieve his death, somehow. And the instability he felt in her aura also told him she wouldn’t live as long as she should. If she was willing, he would sate this sanity-compromising lust while they had the chance.
All thoughts stopped as she crossed the street to the nightclub, tried to make her way through the people milling for a chance to enter.
One of the bouncers closed in on her. Vidar tensed. He’d rather not take another mortal apart.
But to the bouncer’s continued health, he just took her arm, escorted her through the crowd with utmost courteousness.
What was going on? Was she a regular here or something?
She sure didn’t look like a typical patron of places like this. But she had been there last week, and she’d already knocked his every expectation about her on its ass.
He should wait until she came out, follow her home to be sure she arrived safely, take a few days deciding whether to approach her again….
By Loki’s Leer. Who was he trying to kid? Valhalla’s hordes couldn’t drag him away now.
