“Yet here you are, calling me.”
She smooshed down her irritation that his argument matched the one she’d had with herself. “You. Not her. I’m doing it to give you what I have.”
“What could you possibly know that we don’t?” His disdain oozed over the line.
She faltered. That was a good question. Too late to back out now. “How to defeat Hel.”
There was a long pause.
Brit hugged her blankets more tightly around her. Would she ever be warm again?
Starkad finally spoke. “Which is?”
So she did have something he didn’t. Her satisfaction was weak. “I’ll tell you if I get to be involved in whatever you do with the information.”
“No.” There was no hesitation this time. “We’re not doing this again, where you spoon-feed me morsels and hide your true agenda from me.”
“I want Hel gone, so I can move on with my life. There’s no hidden motive here.”
“There’s not? You could have moved on already. That’s what the money and ID were for.”
Of course there is.
She ignored the thought. “Fine. You don’t want what I have? You can go fuck yourself.” She disconnected.
Why did he have to be difficult about this?
Why do I?
She snarled at the empty room and burrowed deeper into her blankets.
MIN COULDN’T WRAP HIS brain around the argument with Kirby. Her reasons for pursing this obsession didn’t make sense. Why did she think it was comparable to his love for her?
While he didn’t look forward to leaving her, he’d promised to go. It was better than being party to this situation. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—watch her destroy herself or her life. Accidental death was bad enough, but she was pursuing the means of her demise.
Daz was packing Min’s luggage. “I hate to see you like this—”
Min knew what came next.
“—but maybe it’s time to close this long chapter of your life.”
There it was. Daz’s ulterior motives lay underneath the comment, the way they always did. Min should mind more. A bit of him was considering the words more closely than he had in the past.
There was an almost overwhelming desire to storm into Kirby’s room and demand she hear him out. To do what she challenged in London, and tell her why they always fell in love. That wasn’t right, though. She wanted proof, and he hadn’t been able to provide that.
Besides, Kirby had made her no distinctly clear, and even if she hadn’t, he couldn’t see this futile mission through her eyes. Which meant he couldn’t stay by her side and let her make this mistake.
Daz loaded everything into the car, and they were on their way to the next city over, where Min owned a hotel. They hadn’t been able to rouse the pilot on such short notice, but they’d fly out in the next couple of days.
Kirby lingered in Min’s thoughts on the drive, and even after they got settled in the new suite. If they were a couple, he’d try again—and again—to make amends. However, that was another part of the problem—he felt like they were, and she didn’t.
“Night cap?” Daz’s stood in front of him, holding a tray with a two glasses, an ice bucket, and a bottle of bourbon.
Min waved it away. “Thank you, no.”
Daz set the drinks aside. “Would you like me to call ahead to Denmark? We can make a stop there. Stay as long as we’d like.”
Min’s favorite club. A place where the worship flowed freely, and he could have his pick of any woman or man, to bestow his blessing on and ravish in front of the crowds. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood. Leave me with my thoughts for a while.”
“Of course. You need time to process. I understand.” Daz took the drinks and stowed them, before leaving for his own room.
Min leaned back on the sofa and scrubbed his face. He couldn’t abandon Kirby, but he didn’t have a choice. If they’d ended things on a different note...
Then what?
He wouldn’t have left.
But he had to say something, to leave the door open for her, while letting her know he wasn’t walking through it unless she asked. He pulled a fountain pen and a heavy sheet of cream-colored paper from his briefcase.
She’d told him not to call her Huntress, and he stopped himself before he put ink on the page. Sweet salutations were out as well.
Kirby,
I’m at a loss for words, but I find myself needing to write this regardless. I can’t promise we’ll never see each other again. I assume our paths will cross, whether we intend it or not. However, as you’ve requested, I will not pursue you romantically.
It ached to write those words, but it was the right thing to do.
This won’t stop me from loving—
A memory?
—the woman I fell for, so many centuries ago. I cannot flip a switch and shut off my emotions. If there ever comes a day when you’d like to speak to me, no matter your reasons, I’m not hidden. You can call me or my office or any place associated with me.
I wish you the best of luck in your pursuit, and I hope for your survival.
Your Servant Always,
Min
That was straightforward, yet still respected her wishes.
Min sealed the letter in an envelope that matched the stationary, then again in a plainer one, to keep the first clean and tucked away from prying eyes. He set it on top of his belongings. He’d ask Daz to make sure it made it back to Kirby tomorrow.
For the first time in his existence, Min understood why humans prayed. It was easier to ask a higher power for help, than to admit there was nothing to be done in so many situations.
If he didn’t know how the silent pleas worked, he’d try one himself. Beg some deity for Kirby’s safety. He didn’t want her to destroy herself over this, whether or not she ended up in his arms.
But the only thing he could do now was hope she figured out her path was a mistake before it was too late.
Chapter Sixteen
Kirby’s mind was fractured into a million pieces. She should be used to it by now, but these shards were new and unfamiliar. She wanted to hold onto the evening with Gwydion. Each time she managed to grasp the edge of the memory, a warm glow spread inside and her heart skipped.
But everything that came after drowned out the pleasant buzz she should still have.
A shower didn’t rinse away Hel’s invisible touch. The scalding water wasn’t enough to sear her words or Min’s from Kirby’s mind. She yanked on a T-shirt and panties. It was too much effort to find anything more complicated, and she wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
A glance out the window showed her Daz, piling luggage into a car. A moment later, he and Min drove away. So that brief, confusing chapter of her life was over. Min’s leaving should be a relief, but parts of her mind argued the decision, loud enough to keep her lingering near the glass until the car vanished into the night.
Kirby wanted to forget it all, but she also wasn’t in the mood for a drug-induced sleep or the nightmares that would taunt her regardless. If she couldn’t ignore it, she’d dive into trying to control it. Or at least having an impact on some of the outcome.
She grabbed her phone, pulled up copy of the prophecies that Starkad sent her, and flopped onto her stomach on the bed, to read. She’d tried starting at the beginning, but all the words and stanzas blurred together. Most of them didn’t mean much without a point of reference. She was using the index instead, scrolling through an alphabetical list and clicking on any keywords that might be relevant.
So far, nothing was panning out. Eternal Maiden of Death looked promising. She clicked the link, to go to the correct entry. The flowery verse didn’t translate directly to English, but it talked about the eternal maiden of death and her wolf-warrior, defeating a goddess of... Kirby stared at the words. Nope, she didn’t know how to translate this. It was death, but in a context she didn’t recognize.
The lock on her door whirred, and the background
noise in her mind shut off. She rolled onto her back, grabbed her HK45C from the nightstand and aimed it at the entryway.
“Don’t shoot.” Starkad’s voice greeted her a heartbeat before he stepped into view.
She shifted her aim to a spot above his head but didn’t back down.
He raised an eyebrow. “Should have thought of that sooner. I was trying to be playful and surprise you.”
“At least I’m not the only one off my game tonight.” She set the gun back on the nightstand. It was tempting to pretend she was pissed off that he’d walked in unannounced. That he had a key to her room in the first place. She didn’t mind with him, though, and she’d used up her supply of righteous indignation for the day.
Starkad set a pizza box on the other bed. The scents of pepperoni and oregano made Kirby’s mouth water and her stomach growl.
He stood at the foot of the beds, in a casual at-ease stance. Always the soldier. Just like her. “You were certainly on earlier.” His tone was light.
A bit more reality horned its way back into her thoughts. He could have been referencing a lot of things, but he meant what she’d done with Gwydion. “Can I help you?”
“You’re avoiding me.”
Was she? That was ridiculous. They talked. They planned. The other night, they’d had an entire conversation about her in past lives. But she knew what he was talking about. Things didn’t feel right between them. “Yes.”
“Let’s fix that.”
We can’t fix this. You can’t just barge in here and force me to talk. Those and a series of other flippant answers rushed to the tip of her tongue. She was too tired to spit any of them out. And she missed what she had with Starkad before everything fell apart. Sure, she’d been torturing herself, lusting after a man who didn’t return the sentiment, but she’d known it. Life was comfortable. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”
“Ah.” He settled on the edge of her bed.
“That’s the best you’ve got? No neutral retort? No same as always?”
Starkad studied her with a reserved expression and the piercing gaze she’d built entire fantasies around.
Today, his silence summoned waves of repressed frustration, that surged into her thoughts so she didn’t know where to focus.
“I remember who we used to be, in my first life,” she said. “Gods, I loved you. I’d have to. Wouldn’t I? To defy Odin the way I did? And a month ago, I knew where we stood. I desperately wanted your attention, and I hovered on that edge between being convinced you wanted me too but refused to admit it, and thinking you only tolerated me out of some sense of obligation.”
Creases appeared on his brow. He still wasn’t going to talk?
Fine. She wasn’t done, anyway. “And now I get it. I understand where you were coming from. But it still fucking hurt. The rejection. The denial. The lack of answers. I want to move past that and forgive you, but I can’t. I definitely don’t want to go back to what we were, even if it was predictable, but I also don’t like cutting this wide path around you. The bad of what you did doesn’t outweigh the good.” Did it?
Starkad still didn’t respond.
Kirby’s anger spiked. “Say something, damn you.” She barely avoided shouting the demand. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t get me to spill my guts to fill empty air. Tell me what’s on your fucking mind. For once in this gods-damned fucking life, tell me what you’re thinking, instead of shutting me out for my own good. Please?” She hated that she ended with a whimper.
He sighed.
She clamped her jaw shut so tightly it ached.
“I don’t regret fucking you in Salt Lake,” he said.
Relief fluttered inside, threatening to push out a sob. She remained passive.
“I do regret that I lost control.”
“You mean actually letting how you feel show?” Bitterness lined her question.
“Yes.”
A tiny little cheerleader was dancing and shaking her pompoms in Kirby’s skull at the confession he felt something. “And?”
“What makes you think there’s more?”
So. Fucking. Infuriating. “I just begged you to be honest with me. If that’s the only thing you’re holding back, nothing will be right with us ever again.”
“If I keep going, the pizza will get cold.” His expression finally shifted to a dry smile. Fucker.
She rolled her eyes. “Fuck the pizza.”
He closed the distance between them and leaned as close as was possible without making contact. “I’d rather fuck you.” His voice was a low growl. “Listening to you with Gwydion tonight was torture, and I didn’t like being on the receiving end. But you knew that.”
“Let’s say I hoped.” Her pulse roared in her ears, and all the pent-up emotions rushed into a new outlet. “I’ve never been certain you noticed.”
“I see all of it. The low-cut tops. The nude sunbathing. I do want you. Marked and whimpering for more pain. Naked underneath me. I used to beat myself raw, jerking off after our sessions. I still fantasize about doing things differently, just once. Shoving my fingers between your legs. Stroking your pussy until you come. Fucking you until both of us forget the world around us. You. Not Ruby.”
This didn’t solve anything. Sex never did. She used it as an escape. Except the electricity that licked over her skin and the way her pulse hammered in her hears insisted this was different.
So did her heart. “If we do this, you have to promise me something.” She forced strength into her voice.
“Anything.”
“Don’t give me that so easily. Not until you know what I’m asking for.” Kirby ached for this to be a new step in their relationship, but she didn’t trust it. She did trust a promise from Starkad. He kept secrets, he blurred the lines of truth, but if he swore something, he meant it.
“It doesn’t matter.” His breath was hot against her skin. “I told you I want to make this right. Anything.”
“That tonight is a beginning and not an end. That we talk when this is over. That you stop shutting me out.” She wanted him so very much, but she wouldn’t go through another round of his regret and her despair.
Starkad tilted up her chin with his finger. “You know it’s not that easy.”
“You said anything.”
“And I meant it. I’ll give you what you’re asking for, but we both have a lot of bad habits to break. There are going to be some stumbles. I’ll make mistakes. So will you.”
Kirby was okay with that. She might not be when it happened, but she expected it to be a difficult process. “Okay. Then one more thing.”
“You’re killing me. But okay.” His reply was gravel.
She leaned in and bit his bottom lip, earning herself a dangerously tantalizing growl. “Don’t be gentle.”
He tugged at her T-shirt, and a loud rip rushed to her ears. The fabric burned with delicious friction across her skin when he tore away the top. The hunger in his eyes made her whimper in anticipation. He bit her shoulder hard enough to mark her, and she groaned into the lingering pain.
A sliver of her was terrified he’d stop at any moment. Push her away and tell her this was a mistake.
He promised. And she trusted that.
He pinned her to the mattress and wedged a knee between her legs. His touch was rough, as he kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples. Any restraints that kept them apart in the past had fallen away.
She shifted her ass on the bed, to rub her mons against his leg. He bit a nipple harder. The grinding and groping built to a frantic pace. If she adjusted her position—if he pinched something new—would she come?
He pulled back, gripping her hips hard to stop the thrusting. “No.” Before her disappointment could settle in, he tore off her panties. “Not yet. Kneel on the bed, back to me.”
“Yes, sir.” She could barely hear herself over the roar of her pulse in her ears. She heard the buckle on his belt, and her body reacted, moisture coating the inside of her thighs.
>
Hand between her shoulder blades, Starkad pushed her onto all fours. He glided his palm over her ass, his touch so light she barely felt it. He pulled away, and nothingness rushed in.
Pins and needles of expectation prickled her skin.
The whistle of his belt sliced the air, and leather slapped against one butt cheek. Kirby gasped at the shock. Fuck, she’d missed this.
Starkad alternated, striking one side and then the other, laying down the lashes to mark her. She clenched her jaw, to keep from crying out and startling anyone in the adjoining rooms. Bliss sank in, blurring the lines between where one strike stopped and the next started, and her thoughts fuzzed at the edges.
By the time the belt dropped next to her on the blanket, she was panting with desire. Her chest clenched with the reminder of what always came next. Starkad’s soothing the wounds, then rocking her to sleep. Neither of them getting off until they went their separate ways the next morning.
Her heart soared when he kissed and bit lightly up her spine, and shoved his hand between her legs. His fingers penetrated her without further warning, but she was so wet, there was little friction.
She sobbed with relief and pleasure. From this angle, he wouldn’t hit a sweet spot to make her come, but the way he filled her with a touch, and the lingering stings on her backside, stole her thoughts and kept her wrapped in a cloud.
He moved his fingers to her clit, pushing her to the edge, then pulling away as her body started to clench.
He repeated the teasing, over and over, until she was lost in need. “Please?” She didn’t have the capacity for more words.
His touch vanished, and her heart jammed in her throat. Then his fingers were back, stroking her clit, pressing in hard. Not easing up when she bucked against his hand, climax washing over her.
Starkad grabbed her shoulder and shoved her onto her back. He pinned a hand to her throat, gaze locked on hers. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Gods, yes.
His smile was one she’d never seen before. It carried unspoken promises that were almost enough to make her come again. He managed to undo his trousers with one hand, knelt between her legs again, and thrust his cock inside her.
Death in the Night (Legacy, #2) Page 14
