Valkyrie Reborn

by Allyson Lindt

  “I’ve put in a request for us to be teamed up,” he said. “You’re brilliant with a rifle, and I love watching your back. We’d make an amazing team.”

  Except they wouldn’t. She didn’t trust him. She wouldn’t cross the room to spit on him if he was on fire. “We just might.”

  “That also means time on the road together. Shared rooms.” He dipped his head and bit her neck hard enough to leave a mark. “We can do everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” The words burned up her throat. “But I’m not going to be assigned to anyone if you make me late for class.” Her sugary tone never faltered.

  He stepped back. “Oh, love. We both know no one is going to demote or hold you back. You’re TOM’s shining star. But I wouldn’t want to mar your perfect record.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped around him and did her best job of hurrying to class without looking like she was in a rush. Her good mood was gone, lost in the horrific possibility of life with Mark after school. It was supposed to be over after he moved on. No more torment. Freedom for her. If they were teamed up...

  “Cadet.” Starkad’s sharp call cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Are you joining us?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” She took her spot in the front row of the classroom.

  He was their combat instructor. Everyone hated him as a teacher. He was demanding. Abrupt. Offered no leeway. But no one ever complained about being in his class—especially not the girls. He was the best the school had for hand-to-hand combat. And he was sexy as fuck. Blond. Built. Tattooed. Basically a modern-day Viking.

  It was a shame he wasn’t the Seduction instructor. Kirby would climb him in a heartbeat. When thoughts of being with Brit didn’t tease her fantasies at night, she was dreaming of Starkad taking her. Sure, daydreaming about a teacher was dangerous, but it wasn’t as though she was going to act on it. Not the way some of the students had tried to do.

  Still, the things he could probably teach her...

  She squeezed her legs together, to suppress the insistent throb.

  “Now that we’re all here...” He strolled along the front of the class, casting random glances at the students. “Cadet Brit is joining us today. Everyone treat her the way you would anyone else.”

  Which, in his classroom, was with respect. Another thing Kirby adored about him.

  “Let’s pair off. You and you. You and you.” Starkad pointed as he spoke, pairing everyone up. “You and you.”

  Kirby’s heart sank when he pointed to her and Brit. She never sparred with the younger girl. In practice or anywhere. It wasn’t because Brit was bad. She wouldn’t be in this class if she wasn’t one of the best. But Kirby couldn’t make herself go all-out with Brit, who deserved better. Brit needed someone who wouldn’t hold back.

  “Assign me someone else,” Kirby said.

  Starkad narrowed his gaze. “Everyone else already has a partner.”

  “A partner you assigned. Give me someone else.”

  Whispers fluttered through the room like butterflies. Starkad snapped his fingers. “Cadet Kirby, my office. Now.” He pointed at the door behind him.

  She had a lot of fantasies that included those words, but none of them evoked the terror his current expression did.

  He looked at the rest of the class. “No one talks while I’m gone. You talk, you sit this round out, and it goes on your record as refusing to participate.”

  That was enough of a threat to keep the students in line. Like Kirby, they were all months from being assigned to a team and field work. To becoming what they’d trained for. To heading out into the world, unsupervised.

  Kirby marched toward his office with her back straight. The instant she was inside, he slammed the door shut behind her.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” His quiet question was far more threatening than if he’d yelled.

  “I can’t fight her. I’m not capable.” Kirby didn’t know why she told him the truth. She should have come up with an excuse, but the reality slipped out before she could give it a second thought. Worse, her body was reacting to him being this close. Anticipation raced over her skin. Her mind treated her to vivid images of him, pushing her onto the desk and ripping off her top. Of him sliding inside her.

  That was so not what she needed to be thinking about.

  “You’ll fight her.” His words were clipped.

  Kirby shook her head. “I won’t. I’ll take whatever punishment you administer instead.” Spank me, please. That needed to stop.

  He clenched his jaw, and for a few seconds, the only sound in the room were the grunts of the other students, fighting. “You’re not just setting yourself up, by doing this,” he finally said. “You’ve set a bad precedent for her. Now she’s the girl who’s not good enough for my star pupil to spar with.”

  No. That was the last thing Kirby wanted. “So when she fights someone else, she’ll prove that’s not true, and it will be far more effective evidence than if she fights me.”

  “You’ll face off with Brit, and you won’t pull your punches.”

  “Nope.” Kirby shook her head. This was a stupid hill to die on, but she couldn’t do what he asked. She couldn’t bring herself to hit Brit.

  “I see.” Starkad stepped around her and rested his hand on the doorknob. “You’ve made your stance clear. Back to class.”

  She hadn’t won that easily. What was he setting her up for?

  They rejoined the rest of the class, and he clapped. “At ease, cadets.”

  Everyone fell back into their rows. Kirby joined them as the only student besides Brit who wasn’t flushed and sweating. Brit wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  Starkad was right. How did Kirby not consider the consequences of her actions sooner?

  Starkad stood in front of them. “Cadet Kirby is intimidated by the fresh meat.”

  Despite the hush in the room, she swore she heard the mental snickers. That was fine. She’d been picked on for five years, and she was good enough to prove herself.

  “So Brit will join a different group, and the three of them will trade off.”

  What was going on? Kirby clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

  “And Cadet Kirby will spar with me,” Starkad said.

  Well, fuck. Kirby kept her surprise and concern from her face, and stepped forward. She was the best in her class. She could hold her own against the teacher for at least a couple of seconds.

  This was to help Brit save face and keep Kirby from fighting her. It was worth it.

  Starkad took his spot across from her on the mat. She held his gaze, alert for any hint or sign of what came next. He was behind her before she saw him twitch, pinning her arm to her back with enough force to make her grunt in pain. Half a tug more, and he’d break something.

  She bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from whimpering.

  He let go. “You weren’t ready. Let’s try again.”

  White-hot embarrassment flooded her face. She’d watched him teach for more than a year. She could guess how he’d open next, if she focused.

  He executed a move she’d never seen before, that had her twisted on her back, his weight on her thigh this time. If he brought his knee down, he’d break her femur.

  He let her up.

  Nothing about his movements was choreographed. He didn’t give anything away in his eyes or the twitch of his muscles. There was no time for her to react.

  By now, she had to be red from the embarrassment. This was worse than what she’d done to Mark all those years ago. She looked like she was standing still, letting him hit her.

  “One more time,” he said. “Pay attention, Ruby.”

  What did he call her? Was that because her face was so dark? Freya, how humiliating. But she watched. She turned all of her skill and training inward, and grasped something she didn’t know was there. A hint about what he’d do next.

  Kirby couldn’t say how she saw it coming, but she recognized his att
ack the instant his foot flew toward her flank. Her muscles reacted without her input. She countered. She twisted. She stepped inside his reach threw him off-balance.

  Unlike a student sparring partner, he recovered in an instant. He sprang back to his feet and used her momentum against her. He brought his foot down on her ankle.

  Her scream slipped out before she could cut it off, and she crumpled to the ground in pain.

  Starkad snapped. “You.” He pointed at a boy in the back. “Take her to the infirmary. Her ankle is broken, so make sure she doesn’t put any weight on it.”

  Kirby limped away, shame and pain raging inside.

  The doctor told her she’d sustained a spiral fracture, but it was clean. If she kept her weight off it until it was healed and followed her physical therapy strictly, she’d be walking again in six to eight weeks, and fully recovered in three months.

  Kirby kept her grumbling to herself, about all the physical activity she’d need to catch up on after being off her feet for so long. She couldn’t ignore the whisper of relief that pointed out, this way, she wouldn’t be assigned to work with Mark.

  She still had to do her academic work, and there was upper-body and sniper practice she could participate in. It kept her from going stir crazy, but she hated being stuffed back in the infirmary, night after night. It was easier to keep her there than maneuver her in and out of the dorms.

  After two weeks, Kirby hadn’t seen Brit at all. How badly had she fucked up? She’d been worried about destroying their friendship by confessing her love, and now she’d ruined things anyway. She’d have to grovel as soon as she was capable.

  When Starkad stepped into the room one night, she was surprised. He sent the nurse away and pulled a chair up next to Kirby’s bed.

  The harsh lines on his face that seemed etched in place during class were gone. He straddled the chair and rested his arms on the back. “I’m sorry I had to do that.” He nodded at her foot. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice.

  “You did what you needed to, and so did I.” She wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He was even sexier outside of the classroom. Casual. Almost sad. And his eyes were a piercing blue.

  “You can’t do this. Never again,” he said softly. “You can never show favoritism in here. I don’t care how much you love or adore that girl, you hide those feelings like they’re the most precious secret in the universe.” He almost sounded like he spoke from experience.

  A pleasant shiver raced up Kirby’s spine. Who had he loved? Was it another instructor? A student?

  She wanted to deny how she felt about Brit, but the words wouldn’t come. “Why?”

  “You know you have enemies in here, don’t you?”

  All too well. She kept her mouth shut and shoved Mark’s image from her mind.

  “They’ll use your affection against you. They’ll use it to destroy you. That’s why the school has a no-fraternization policy, and we aren’t teaching you to be best friends with each other. Not because we care if cadets fuck each other. It’s because you’ve all been trained to spot anyone’s weakness and use it to your advantage.”

  Right. Trust everyone, unless they give you a reason not to. Then stab them in the back. Beautiful contradiction. “I understand.”

  Starkad worked his jaw. The way his gaze lingered on her made her heart skip a beat. She was just a silly girl with a silly crush, like half of the students in here, and there was no way he was watching her with affection.

  He stood with a heavy sigh. “I’ll see you back in class in a few months.”

  “All right.” Her smile was genuine. She couldn’t help but watch him walk from the room. Lusting after him was at least as dangerous as wanting to be with Brit, but he was just a fantasy.

  Nothing more.

  Chapter Seven

  Now - Gwydion

  Gwydion tried to stay away. He’d never liked Starkad’s decision to hide and isolate Kirby, but he’d complied because the berserker was right. They needed to try something new, to keep Kirby from dying.

  But she hadn’t been a TOM for a couple of years. She’d been on the outside, with Starkad keeping her all to himself. And Gwydion was sick of waiting. He had to see Kirby.

  He’d called in a favor with a friend in Urd, to find out where she’d be next. The kind of thing that would cost him a minor miracle in the future. Kirby was worth it. Fortunately, that friend was Min, who relented because Gwydion wasn’t the only one tired of waiting to talk to Kirby.

  He was strolling down Main Street in Salt Lake City, when an explosion burst through the windows above a twenty-four hour gym. The noise and flash summoned images of the past. Screams erupted around him, and the crowds pressed in. War after war overlapped in his mind. Terror bled into death, and then into battlefields piled with bodies. Sand that didn’t exist clogged his lungs. The whistle of the train became falling mortars in his head.

  He could push past this. He tapped his index and middle finger in an alternating rhythm against his leg, and focused on the pattern. It figured—immortality granted him physical immunity from almost everything he encountered, but it didn’t cure the trauma of having fought in several major wars and a handful no one had heard of, over the last fifteen hundred years.

  Focusing on the drum of his fingers helped center him. A movement caught his attention and he turned. Kirby. She was a few feet away, weaving through the crowd and heading for the explosion.

  It didn’t matter that she was dressed in baggy, filthy clothes, that her hair was currently auburn instead of blond, or that she wore a fierce scowl. Her face was seared in his dreams, and seeing her sent sparks racing along his skin.

  This was the wrong time to approach her. He wouldn’t put her life in danger by distracting her. She entered the building through the back. She’d see if he followed.

  When a group of police approached, concern ratcheted inside.

  It was a matter of suggestion, to make himself look like one of them. He was a trickster god with a gift for impersonation. Adopting the illusion of the same uniforms they wore and fogging their minds to make them believe he’d always been with them was as simple as flipping a switch.

  If only it were as simple to send Kirby a mental warning to get the fuck out now.

  He stuck with the officers as they searched the first floor. Most everyone had evacuated. No Kirby. Maybe she was clear.

  On the second floor, the layout wasn’t as open. All of the doors were closed but one. Gwydion’s stress cranked to full blast. The officers approached with guns drawn.

  The man in front toed the door open.

  Kirby stood near the window, staring at a rifle that lay at her feet.

  What are you doing? Gwydion screamed in his head. Why are you still here?

  “Hands in the air,” one of the officers shouted.

  She complied instantly.

  “Hands on the back of your head, and walk backward toward us.”

  Influencing them to think he was one of them, that he should be there, was one thing. They were distracted and didn’t care, as long as he wasn’t a threat. Could he twist a group of high-strung thoughts to not have itchy trigger fingers?

  Kirby did as ordered. When she was within arm’s reach, one officer holstered his gun, jerked her arms down, and cuffed her, before spinning her to face them.

  Her expression was one of terror. Unshed tears glistened in her wide eyes. She studied her shoes. “I didn’t touch anything. I swear. I wanted to see what happened, and maybe that gun is worth some money, you know? It’s got to be. It’s one of those expensive machine guns, right?”

  “What are you doing up here?” Someone demanded.

  She shrank back. “Everyone was running away. I wanted to see if there was anything up here I could sell. Can I have a buck?”

  If she was even half of what Starkad said, this was an act. She knew what was on the floor, and she could John Wick these uniforms without breaking a sweat.

  But she had Gwy
dion convinced. He wanted to wrap her up. Save her. Take her away from this cruel world and give her whatever she asked for. Then again, he’d want to do that anyway. The homeless-and-hungry act simply amplified existing urges.

  The officer who had cuffed her pulled her closer. “Do you have any weapons on you? Anything sharp? Razors. Needles?” As he spoke he ran rough hands over her arms. Inside her jacket sleeves. When he grabbed her chest, she whimpered and tried to pull away.

  The officer smirked. He shoved his hand in every pocket. Spent several seconds groping her inner thighs and crotch, as she squirmed and folded in on herself.

  Gwydion’s blood boiled. If he killed them all now, just sent the thought through each of their heads that caused blood vessels to burst, their lives would end a few decades early, but in a century, it wouldn’t matter.

  It would also turn this mess into a manhunt for a cop killer. While a flash grenade would spark an investigation, as long as no one died, the same passion and lack of reason wouldn’t drive their actions.

  “She’s just some homeless kid.” Gwydion forced his tone to sound dismissive. “Look at the bitch. Bad dye-job. Too dumb to know not to walk into a crime scene. Do you think she’s got a grenade launcher tucked in her cunt?”

  “I’ll check,” the officer who had searched her offered.

  At least his companions had the decency to look uncomfortable.

  Gwydion grabbed her arm and yanked her away. “Canvas the rest of the building. I’ll have someone take her statement.”

  From the way the others turned away without further argument and headed toward the first locked door, Gwydion probably pushed the suggestion harder than he needed to. Good. Fuck them.

  He led Kirby toward the stairs. The instant they were out of sight of the police, he let go of her.

  “The fuck was that?” She kept her voice low and walked half a step behind him down the stairs. “Why did they think you were one of them?”

  She saw through the illusion. Probably because he refused to use his influence on her.