Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  Now, through her memories, Vale would receive a crash course in combat, making her even more of a threat.

  While other men had made fools of themselves over Celeste, Knox would not be so gullible. He would never trust Vale. Trust equaled betrayal, without exception.

  Do not forget. “When Terra—”

  “Earth.”

  “When Earth was discovered, the queen of Occisor sent Celeste here, betting she would be the one to win it.”

  “Survive being hunted by assassins, keep my home,” Vale muttered. “Got it.”

  There it is. The moment a reluctant combatant began to hope, to plan.

  Knox wouldn’t tell her about the other Terran representative—Erik the Widow Maker—because he didn’t yet know what it meant. To his knowledge, two mortals from the same realm had never joined a war.

  “If I win,” she said and licked her lips, “everything will stay the same?”

  “Nothing will ever be the same again.” He softened his tone. “Since you did not enter on behalf of a king or queen, you will be crowned queen, answerable only to the High Council.” They were entering dangerous waters here, the topic beginning to point to his enslavement to Ansel. These details didn’t pertain to her, anyway; there was no way she’d win. He would take steps... Ignore the guilt! “I’ve shared knowledge with you. Time for you to share knowledge with me.”

  “One, I’ve been sharing knowledge with you since we met. Second, I’m still processing everything you told me. And everything I’m learning from Celeste. But all right, shoot. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “How did you obtain my dagger while I was gone?”

  She winced. “Of course you’d start there. Considering you’re currently vibrating with anger, I think I’ll keep that bit of info to myself.”

  He could torture it out of her, he supposed. But—

  {For now, do her no harm.}

  He ground his teeth. But. The thought of marring her pretty flesh sickened him. She’d been hurt enough. Too much.

  “I’ll figure it out on my own, then,” he grated.

  Knox stalked to the alcove. Spotting a tree limb on the floor, he ground his teeth harder. His shadows were obedient, not sentient; they would have reacted to Vale’s movements in a bid to avoid her, as ordered.

  If she’d gotten too close, too fast...if she’d stood in one spot and waved the limb in another, she would have seemed to be in two places at once.

  Clever female. He ignored a flicker of respect, the flare of dismay. Before the last check-in, he’d told Shiloh not to fall in like with another combatant. Exactly what I’m doing now.

  Knox blanked his expression and returned to Vale’s side.

  Her gaze remained steady on his, the gold a brilliant starburst rimmed by the green. “Oh, goodie. I’m pretty sure we’ve reached my favorite part of the conversation. The moment you threaten me.”

  She mocked him?

  No, he realized. The barest hint of fear wafted from her. She was afraid of his reaction but determined to hide it.

  A clench in his chest, a sensation he was coming to loathe. “For now, I’ll keep you alive. Do not make me regret it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  CAN’T PROCESS. Vale was smack-dab in the middle of another information overload. Any second, she expected her mind to break. So, she pushed out thoughts of wars and high councils and forced assassinations committed by herself or others, and focused on the only puzzle piece she had the power to reshape. Knox.

  As he stalked through his evil overlord lair, doing whatever evil overlords did, she remained splayed on the bed, watching him, bound by those stupid vines, her mouth imbued with the taste of whiskey and honey. Since she’d stabbed him, killed an unwanted guest inside his home and joined a too-legit-to-quit turf war, she supposed she shouldn’t complain about a little light bondage. Plus, she suspected her captor would seize any opportunity to lop off her head.

  Not that a man like him needed an excuse.

  He could don a particular look that said, There’s no line I won’t cross. He tilted his head to the right, his gaze becoming as sharp and hot as lasers, but also as cruel and merciless as ice.

  She’d been the extra-special recipient of that look more times than she cared to count.

  One day, he would make a play for her head, and she doubted he would feel the teensiest bit of guilt.

  One sure way to save herself? Captivate him with her feminine charms.

  Well, not a sure way. But a possible way. All of her past dates would certainly get a kick out of Vale London attempting to captivate with her feminine uncharms.

  Fine. Forget the captivating thing. She’d have to make herself useful. Make him want to keep her around, no matter how great the temptation to harm her. Already he considered her necessary. Which just happened to be her new favorite word in the English language.

  New favorite? Ha! She’d dreamed of being necessary to a man... Had fantasized about it repeatedly, hoped and prayed, before finally giving up and deciding the world could suck it, she was better off on her own, anyway.

  Knox had more than proved his claim. He hadn’t killed her when she’d inadvertently joined his war, or when she’d been too weak to fight back. Also, he hadn’t ditched her, even though he’d really, really wanted to ditch her.

  Allegedly, he had no idea know why she was necessary to him, so she couldn’t capitalize on the skill, or info or whatever it was. But she could test the boundaries of his “instinct,” find out how far she could push him—and then never ever cross that line.

  Bulletproof logic. On the right track.

  She also needed to lay groundwork for an escape. Which she could totally do now that she had Celeste’s memories.

  Vale remembered more about Celeste’s past than she’d admitted to her captor. How to contort to undo knots. How to sneak up on a man and use his weapons against him. Most important, how to steal Celeste’s Rifters, the crystal rings Knox had pocketed.

  The pretties would open a doorway to her apartment in Strawberry Valley, Oklahoma, or allow her to travel to one of Celeste’s safe houses. Places the other woman had set traps.

  The ones Vale saw with absolute clarity—an underground hideaway in the UK and a cave in the Amazon.

  But first and foremost, she needed to heal and regain her strength. If something went wrong, she’d have to start fighting.

  Face it, she was going to have to fight one way or another.

  “How was I able to absorb Celeste’s memories? Any theories?” she asked, only to jolt when the answer clicked. Her screwed up senses. Of course!

  Knox emerged from the closet, surprising her. Dude. She’d lost track of him, a dangerous development; she needed to remain aware.

  He wore a clean T-shirt and a pair of those leather-like pants. In one hand, he carried a large tool box, his biceps bulging. His hair was damp and slicked back. He’d taken another bath and she’d missed it.

  Wait, had she just whimpered?

  “Save your questions for another time.” Never glancing her way, he plucked a piece of fruit with his free hand, then sat at the table. He unloaded weapons and tools, placing them end to end. “I have no interest in listening to your chatter.”

  Oookay. Since he’d returned from the alcove looking shell-shocked, something had changed for him. He’d worn the same expression as Vale during the three worst experiences of her life. The day her mother died, the day her father had taken off, and the day she’d said goodbye to Carrie. What had caused such a staggering reaction in Knox?

  “No worries, big guy,” she said now. “I already figured out the answer. And to be honest, I have, like, zero interest in listening to you mansplain. Silence suits me well.”

  He frowned, as if disappointed in her, as if she should want to speak with him, even if he didn’t want to speak with her.
As if she should move heaven and earth to win him over.

  Men! Half the time they sucked donkey balls. The other half, they sucked regular balls.

  But still, how was Vale supposed to kill Knox? Technically, she had a home court advantage but she also had, like, zero urge to behead him. Could she even go through with it? Celeste had been an accident. Purposely seeking the death of another combatant would be cold-blooded murder. No, thanks.

  Why risk her life, and her sanity, for a world filled with terrorists, rapists and school shooters? And yeah, okay, those craptastic individuals were a minority. But what about internet trolls who spewed venom? And how could she forget the everyday liars, cheaters and thieves?

  Ugh. Earth really was a steaming trash factory. Maybe another species could clean things up.

  Or make things worse.

  Oh, the dilemma! On a search for more information about the different species, she retreated into her mind to poke at Celeste’s memories...she got stuck on all things Occisor instead.

  There, certain women emitted a powerful pheromone that filled anyone within sniffing distance with an all-consuming, insatiable lust. An ability Vale had inherited from Celeste. Even now, the pheromone was heating inside her, preparing to lure Knox to his doom.

  Must use it sparingly, and only as necessary. Never seduce more than one target at a time...the danger...

  She jolted. Danger? Why? The reason teased her, the memory fragmenting, rotating, connecting to others in an odd way, her mind quickly becoming chaotic.

  No, no. Concentrate! The pheromone was dangerous because—why? Fragmenting, rotating.

  Invisibility, intangibility...a sword that leaked venom...

  Vale grabbed hold of the thought with every ounce of her might. The sword. Mine! She couldn’t rely on people, but she could rely on her weapon—

  Fragmenting, rotating.

  Finally, something other than Occisor. She saw a corrupt High Council...saw different men in the brunette’s bed, worshipping her body. But only one man had ever wormed his way into her heart...

  Fragmenting. Suddenly Vale could feel Celeste’s desire to kill Knox. He’d murdered her love.

  Stomach cramp. Knox had taken away the woman’s lover, but Vale had taken away everything else.

  She blinked back a hot sting of tears. Can’t break down. Must carry on.

  A ragged laugh devoid of humor lodged in her throat. Had she really just thought carry on? About a homicide?

  I’m the egg. I’ve already hardened...

  No, no, no. She hadn’t. She wouldn’t. And she wouldn’t kill anyone else, either. There had to be another way to stop the war and protect Nola’s future.

  Yes. That. That was what Vale wanted to do more than anything. To stop the war and protect Nola. And maybe she could find a way to make her sister immortal, too, without having to kill a combatant. Immortal Nola wouldn’t need pain pills, wouldn’t have to go through withdrawal and wouldn’t have to deal with stupid fibromyalgia.

  But what if there wasn’t a way to end the war? Celeste had wanted to end it, too...until she was killed.

  A sob of helplessness bubbled up, only to get snared by a humorless laugh. Good! Show no weakness. Keep it together now, break down later.

  “Female.”

  Knox’s craggy voice pulled her into the present, and she blinked rapidly, focused. He towered beside the bed. Uh-oh. The look. His head was tilted, his eyes both fiery and icy. Worse, the weapons he’d sharpened were strapped to his body.

  “Tell me how you think you acquired Celeste’s memories,” he commanded.

  She luxuriated in the taste of honeyed whiskey, and the sweet intoxication and momentary oblivion. A sensation only he could elicit, one she enjoyed immensely, and another reason she needed to remain here, with Knox, where she could taste individual sounds rather than a bombardment.

  Even still, she snapped, “Read the room. I’m obviously done talking to you.”

  Frowning, he eased beside her, his hip brushing against hers. Will not gasp. Nope. Not me.

  “Do you care nothing about your fate, then?” he asked.

  “Another threat? How original.”

  “Vale...please,” he grated.

  Astonished, she stared up at him. The gruff warrior had just asked nicely. Well, nicely for him. How could she deny him?

  “Only because you spared my life,” she said.

  “Deal.”

  “Three of my five senses are miswired. Or four of six, if you consider the memory absorption thing.” Should she tell him about Celeste’s pheromone? Nah. A girl needed some surprises. “It’s called synesthesia. Usually people only have to deal with one oddity, but I’m an overachiever. I taste sounds, see letters as colors, and picture numbers inside a map.”

  Intrigue lit his gaze. “You taste whiskey and honey whenever I speak...and you like it.”

  “How did you—never mind. I keep forgetting I let info slip when I thought you were a statue.”

  “You called me a sexcake, smoke show and most recently a sex puppet.” Satisfaction joined the intrigue. “You absorbed memories...and abilities?”

  Well, frick. He already suspected the truth. No reason to confirm it, though. She shrugged, and tried to play it cool, even as a blush burned her cheeks.

  He stroked two fingers over the dark stubble on his jaw. “What else is different about you, I wonder.”

  I’m not looking forward to finding out, bud. “How many foes have you killed?”

  “In this war? Only five.”

  “Only,” she parroted softly. So, he’d gained five different weapons.

  Better to kill you with, my dear...

  At least he’d answered. She’d expected resistance. “I’m your competition. Why are you helping me?” Why am I necessary?

  He arched a brow, as if to say, Competition, female? Dream on. “I doubt I’ll tell you, even if I figure out the answer.”

  What did he know? “Any tips or tricks to impart so I can help myself?”

  A pause, crackling with tension. Then, “Trust no one. Suspect everyone of deceit. Soldiers will lie to you, use you and hire mortals to trap you. Paranoia is your best friend.”

  “Ha! That’s just business as usual, then.”

  His eyes did the narrowing thing. “We will rest now.”

  Did he have to make everything a command? “You think you’re going to rest with those weapons strapped to your body?”

  “I never rest any other way. I’m ready for battle, always. You’d do well to follow my lead.”

  “I’d love to, thanks.” She motioned to a dagger with a tilt of her chin. Do not request Celeste’s sword. Not yet. “I’ll take that one. No? Too soon?”

  “You’ll remain unarmed, for both our sakes. We’ve both suffered injuries and must recharge. Before you protest, don’t. You’ll remain bound.” He stood, so darkly, perfectly, intensely masculine, so danged sensual, he was the personification of carnality.

  The times she’d lived on the streets, she’d yearned for a protector. Someone who couldn’t be intimidated or scared away. As a teenager, she’d chosen bad boys, the ones she couldn’t scare away. Knox was something else entirely.

  Only a crazy person would be tempted by his sinister hotness, right? Or maybe just anyone with a pulse. Those eyes. So blue, so deep. Those lashes. So long, the color of a raven’s wings. That jaw. So strong and chiseled. That body. So ripped with muscles, yet also sleek and as lethal as a panther.

  Who am I? Vale never waxed poetic about anything but donuts.

  Now, as she drank in everything Knox, he seemed to drink in everything Vale. Her blood warmed and fizzed. Pleasure fluttered in her belly while heat pooled between her thighs. Her limbs trembled and her nipples beaded, as if desperate to gain his attention.

  Resist!

  A t
antalizing mix of jasmine and dark spices wafted to her nose, and she breathed deep, all but purring her approval. Where was the fragrance coming from, and why was desire fogging her mind?

  Want Knox. Neeeed him.

  He sniffed the air, tension pulling the skin around his mouth taut, bunching the muscles in his shoulders. One step, two, he backed up, widening the distance between them.

  The sweet scent only intensified.

  “Why do you suddenly smell like you’re wearing perfume?” he croaked.

  The truth crystalized in an instant. The scent came from her. Somehow, she’d unwittingly unleashed Celeste’s pheromone.

  How was she supposed to make it stop? And how could she keep the information from him now?

  “Some perfumes are, um, heat activated,” she said. Maybe it was true.

  “You will wash it off.” He returned to yank the vines from her wrists, then wrenched back yet again. “Now. Or I’ll make you do it.”

  As panic chilled her to the bone, the flames of desire cooled, the sweet scent faded, and she offered up a prayer of thanks. But even still, she hastened to the pool, thrilled to splash water onto her overheated skin. Let him assume the water had done its job.

  With her movements, blood hustled back into her shoulders, making her feel as if she were being pricked with a thousand needles.

  “Back to the bed,” he called. “Now.”

  “Can you be any more demanding?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to go back to bed.”

  Eyes glittering with a mix of danger and desire, Knox crooked his finger at her. “Then come to me.”

  Gulping, she obeyed—why, why? Shivers cascaded down her spine as soon as she stood in front of him. “What do you want?”

  “Confirmation.” He leaned over to sniff her neck, and the tip of his nose tickled her skin.

  Do not moan with bliss. Don’t you dare!

  Voice hoarse, he said, “Better.” Before she could protest, he picked her up, carried her to the bed, maneuvered her flat on her back, and retied the vines.