Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  “Because of Celeste, I know each player came to Earth with a single weapon. She chose a sword that leaks poison, but what about you?”

  “The bunker.”

  “Wow. And you’ve actually won wars?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile. Odd.

  “The others don’t have bunkers of their own?” she asked.

  “What they have, they had to build upon arrival here. I merely had to pick a spot and have the bunker portaled in. Their safe houses, way stations or whatever they want to call their homes on Terra are not equipped with advanced technology like mine. And I knew I could win weapons the first day of battle. Which I did.” He paused, his next words poised at the end of his tongue, ready to escape. Do not appear too eager. “Have you recalled anything about Gunnar’s sword?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I’m picking up thoughts about liquefying and bonding, but nothing else.”

  What liquefied? The people he cut? But Knox had seen no evidence of that. Bonding—to whom, or what?

  Had she told the truth? Did she know more? Never trust a combatant.

  Perhaps he would have to take a page from Celeste’s war manual and seduce information out of Vale.

  His body reacted swiftly, intensely, his shaft going rock hard and straining against his fly.

  Control. He shifted in his seat, peered out the window. The sun had begun its descent, turning the sky into a maze of brilliant colors.

  “Are vehicles able to travel at night?” he asked.

  “Yep. Thanks to headlights.” She messed with a knob beside the wheel, and lights glowed in front of the car. “Why are you guys given Rifters? Transporting to a new location in seconds only prolongs the war, giving everyone an escape hatch.”

  “The kings and queens insisted. They wouldn’t send their warriors to fight without assuring they had every available advantage, and an even playing field. Also, I suspect they are easily bored. As immortals, they live a long time, and need new amusements. I think tales of our exploits, and the uncertainty of the wars, excites them.” He pointed to a corner up ahead. “Turn there.” Once she obeyed, he instructed her to take another turn, then another, until they reached a dead end. He frowned. “We’re close but not close enough.”

  “Do you have the safe house’s coordinates?”

  He rattled off the latitude and longitude, and she punched buttons on a screen in the center of the dashboard. An automated voice offered direction—and almost died a quick death when Knox unsheathed a dagger.

  “Calm down, Mr. Overreact. Navigation isn’t out for your blood.” Vale steered down different roads, following the correct path, passing other cars.

  As they approached one of the larger buildings, he thought he spied Rush of Nolita. The pale-haired male with eyes as dark and fathomless as Knox’s shadows owned a crossbow capable of shooting three arrows at once, at three different targets. He usually stuck to swampy areas, so what was he doing here?

  Kill him, claim the crossbow. “Stop the vehicle,” Knox demanded.

  “Let me find a spot to—”

  “Here,” he snapped.

  “If I stop here,” Vale snapped back, “I’ll cause a wreck and people will get hurt. Including us!” She snaked another corner before coming to an abrupt halt at the curb. “All right. Now what?”

  “Now we hunt.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KNOX SLID HIS gaze over the sea of mortals striding along the sidewalks. If Rush had another combatant with him, he wouldn’t sense the arrival of others. If Rush rolled solo, it would be a completely different story; the moment they stood within range of each other, he would sense Knox, but Knox wouldn’t sense him, not with Vale at his side.

  Wait. Had he just thought the words rolled solo? What hellish update to his translator was this?

  “I spotted a combatant named Rush,” he explained.

  “Rush,” Vale echoed with a frown. “Comes from a swamp kingdom...handsome, seemingly seducible, tricky, volatile temper, noncommittal.”

  “Swamp, yes. Handsome and seducible, no. Not for you.” Knox was the only male Vale would be seducing.

  He cursed. In a perfect world, no one would have the power to seduce him, ever.

  “If we remain together,” he added, shoving the words past gritted teeth, “I won’t sense him in the crowd.” He would have to remain alert, undistracted and rely on sight and instinct.

  “Hint taken,” she replied. “I’ll stay in the car and keep the motor running in case we need to make a fast getaway when local PD chases you down for sword fighting in public.”

  Leave her behind, outside his bunker? Every muscle in his body rebelled. “You’ll come with me.” He grabbed the duffel bag, reached for the door. “Let’s go.”

  {Wait.}

  The eyaer’s command stopped him cold. What was wrong?

  Extreme patience was a skill he possessed...usually. However, he’d spent the past thirteen centuries in stasis, and he was primed and ready for the next battle. The next win. Also, a part of him liked the idea of eradicating one of Vale’s enemies.

  {Danger lurks nearby.}

  So what? Danger always lurked nearby.

  “My first official hunt,” she said with a tremor. “Warning. I’m going to slow you down out there. I won’t mean to, but it’s bound to happen.”

  He latched onto her wrist. Scanning, scanning, he said, “We must wait.”

  “Sure, but just so you know, the mental pep talk I’m giving myself has an expiration minute.” Paling, she wiped down the interior of the car and said, “Or do you just mean we need to destroy our prints first?”

  Scanning... “According to my instincts, we will be placed in unnecessary danger if we leave the car right now. I have no desire to put you—either of us—at risk.” No other signs of Rush. Had the male already rifted out of the area?

  Vale settled back in her seat with a soft puff of breath. “Those instincts ever steer you wrong?”

  “No. People are liars and cheats, but my instincts remain a faithful companion.”

  “People are the worst,” she agreed. “Most people, anyway. There are exceptions.”

  “Agreed.” Ignore the heartache. “I had a daughter. Before she died, there was no one better.”

  He gnashed his molars. Why had he shared such a personal fragment of his life?

  “Oh, Knox.” Vale pressed a hand against her heart. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  That was the second time she’d expressed remorse for the great tragedy he’d suffered, and it made him feel as if up was down and down was up, and he’d gotten flayed alive in the process.

  “What happened to her mother?” she asked softly.

  “Don’t know. She left after Minka’s birth, wanted nothing to do with me or the babe.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vale repeated. “Minka is a beautiful name.”

  “In my language, the word minka refers to an infinite amount of time.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she pressed a hand over her heart. “You took one look at her and knew you would love her forever.”

  Yes, exactly. Vale understood. He’d known he would be forever transformed.

  She sniffled and said, “Stupid dust. Allergies, amirite?”

  “Dust sucks,” he said, mimicking her sassiest tone.

  A laugh burst from her, genuine and sweet, lighting up her delicate features, giving him the same thrilling high usually only achieved with victory.

  Focus!

  “FYI, we need to abandon the car ASAP,” Vale said. “Before a cop runs the plates. And I’m pretty sure we’re currently fish in a barrel to other players.”

  FYI. ASAP. Run the plates. Would he ever understand the Terran vernacular?

  Sensing his confusion, she said, “Acronyms. FYI—for you
r information. ASAP—a super amazing penis. I kid, I kid. As soon as possible.” She tapped her chin. “You know, if I can steal a cell phone, I can search for reported sightings of other warriors. Considering you guys appear out of nowhere whenever you walk through an invisible doorway, I’m sure people are taking note.”

  Cell phone?

  “Although, it might be smarter to steal money and buy a phone since there are so many security measures on preowned devices—dude. I can’t believe I’m falling back into a life of crime so easily.” Moaning, she rested her face in her upraised hands. “Carrie is looking down and shaking her head with disappointment.”

  “Who is Carrie?”

  “Another exception.” She looked up and offered him a soft smile. “She was my favorite foster mom.”

  As she explained different aspects about the foster system—moving from one strange home to another, some nice, some not so nice, some bad enough she’d had to run away and live on the streets just to survive—he had to fight to listen. So beautiful. So kind.

  Stronger than he’d realized.

  “The word favorite indicates you had more than one foster mom,” he said.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I had many. Carrie is the only one I stayed in touch with after I was declared an adult, but she died a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry your father let this happen to you,” he said. He hated the thought of Vale rejected by the man who was supposed to love her, without a family of her own...cared for by others, like Minka...suffering as Minka had, suffering so much she’d felt she had no recourse but to run away.

  Oh, how he’d enjoyed killing Minka’s foster family.

  The need to exact vengeance on Vale’s behalf consumed him, to lay the heads of her tormentors at her feet. Forget the war, if only for a little while. What will one personal errand hurt?

  Only everything! “Let’s not share other personal details with each other,” he croaked. As he’d warned Shiloh, making friends during wartime was foolish.

  Hurt flashed over her features, but she bucked up fast, donning a blank mask.

  He hated the hurt, and he hated the blank mask, too.

  Knox needed out of this car. He needed fresh air and action, and he needed to get Vale’s sweet scent out of his nose before he ruined his life simply to make her happy.

  Desperation gnawed at him as he reached for the door handle. “Let’s go. I think the danger has passed.” His instinct had gone quiet.

  “Yeah. Good call,” she said, her prickly tone making a resurgence. “As the old adage goes, sharing is erring.”

  If he managed to get through the day without ripping out his heart and handing it to her, he’d consider it a win.

  He exited the car and draped the duffel bag over his shoulder, breathing deeply. Varying scents were mingled together, blessedly obscuring Vale’s perfume.

  As soon as she stood at his side, he took her hand—ignore the rightness of it—tucked shadows around his weapons and led her down the sidewalk. Men jumped out of his way while women stopped to stare.

  “Hey, look it. We match,” Vale said. “Black shirts and leatherish pants seem like our uniform. Team Knale. No, Team Valox.”

  “We are not a team,” he said out of habit. In Iviland, he was used to being an object of both fascination and ridicule. Unbothered, he focused solely on his mission. Nothing would distract him from his—

  Had a mortal just stripped Vale with his gaze?

  Something dark and hot blazed inside Knox. Something akin to rage. Over something so trivial? And did Vale have to roll her hips so sensually?

  She bumped into one man after another, as if physical contact with strangers was her greatest ambition.

  “If your walk wasn’t a living example of a mating call,” he grated, “you wouldn’t fall into gawking males quite so often.”

  “Um, you’re welcome.” She held out her hands to reveal four miniature leather pouches. “I distracted the guys so I could filch their wallets. I think I got enough to buy a phone.” Free of Knox’s grip, she withdrew sheets of green paper from each of the pouches. “Yep. Plenty.”

  She’d been picking pockets, and he’d had no idea. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

  Do better. Be more aware.

  After she’d tossed the wallets into a metal bin marked United States Postal Service, her stomach gave a loud rumble.

  A new prickle of guilt had him barking, “I told you to eat a piece of fruit.”

  “And I did. But I’ve gone two weeks with very little food, so my body is demanding more, more, more.”

  He relaxed but only slightly. “Very well. I will provide for you.” He shouldn’t enjoy the thought. No, he shouldn’t.

  Scenting meat and bread, he reclaimed her hand and led her in front of a short, squat man with silver hair who was holding a small brown bag. The food must be inside.

  Silver paused, looked up and paled. “C-can I help you?”

  “Your food. I want it. Give it to me.”

  Without a beat of hesitation, Silver extended the bag.

  Vale yanked Knox away before he could claim his prize. “Sorry, he’s usually an indoor dog,” she called over her shoulder. Then, glaring at Knox, she said, “You’re going to get yourself arrested, and I will not post bail.”

  Whatever that meant.

  “You can’t just take things from people,” she said.

  “Why not? You took a car and multiple wallets.” Might equaled right.

  “I took in secret, out of necessity. And I’m eaten up with guilt about it!”

  The fact...didn’t settle well. “We’ll visit Ronan’s safe house, buy our phone, then purchase food. If her highness is amenable?”

  “Her highness is,” she said with a mocking curtsy.

  His internal navigation sent him around two more corners, until he came upon a large brownstone. “This is it.”

  Tone as dry as sand, she said, “I should have guessed someone’s ancient safe house would end up being a coffee shop.”

  Knox entered, cool air chased away by warmth, weapons still hidden by shadows. Vale remained behind him. The aroma of... He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it.

  “I’m going to order a couple drinks,” Vale muttered.

  “Do what you must.” As he moved around the building, studying walls, tables and chairs, even the floor, she stood in line and spoke with someone standing behind a wooden counter.

  Beneath a new bouquet of scents, he detected Ronan’s telltale fragrance; something that made him think of a desert oasis bathed in sunlight. The male had visited recently, but hadn’t stayed long.

  Knox decided not to bother questioning the Terrans. He wouldn’t trust anything they said.

  Would Ronan return here?

  If Knox waited and Ronan did return, their brawl would catch the notice of the authorities. Witnesses equaled trouble.

  Involving mortals wasn’t forbidden, but complications would follow. He’d have to whisk the warrior to a secondary location, an act with just as many problems.

  Thinking to examine the back of the shop, Knox moved behind the counter. A frowning mortal tripped over, calling, “Sir! Sir! You can’t come back here.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “What are you hiding?”

  “My apologies,” Vale said, sidling up to Knox. “He’s from, uh, somewhere else, and doesn’t yet understand our customs.”

  His eyaer was dormant, which had to mean no danger lurked in back. Therefore, he allowed her to draw him outside into the fresh air.

  “Going behind a counter, any counter, is prohibited,” she said, handing him a hot paper cup. “In other words, a big fat no-no.”

  “Drinking something you picked up in Ronan’s territory is also a no-no—my no-no, which is the only one that matters.” He dumped both cups in the nearest trash
can. “He could have paid the servers to poison our drinks.”

  “First, modern people wouldn’t—Never mind. For profit, they totally would. Second, we’re immortal, remember? If Ronan poisoned the coffee, and that’s a big if, we wouldn’t die. Would we?”

  “No, but we could be incapacitated. Then combatants would attack. Then we would die.”

  “Thanks for ruining every meal I’m ever going to eat.” She sighed. “Let’s go purchase our phone.” She took his hand and tugged him in the opposite direction. “I saw a store with burners back this way.”

  “We are going to burn our phone?”

  “No, no. Burners are a type of phone. They’re untraceable, and we won’t have to sign a contract or pay monthly fees to access data.”

  More nonsense. Just how technologically advanced had this world become? What new dangers awaited him?

  When a male whistled at Vale, Knox spun and glared. The man withered before racing away.

  “My hero,” Vale muttered, and though her tone was mocking, she peered up at him, her hazel eyes wide, her sexy red lips parted, as if waiting to be kissed.

  His body responded, all systems go. His heartbeat sped up, his core temperature rising. Muscles tensed, but not in preparation for combat. A stray thought left him reeling: I want to be her hero in truth.

  He ground to a halt right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Vale halted just as abruptly. They stood there, staring at each other, panting, snared by a force greater than ambition, deeper than need, more electric than awareness. Inside him, barriers seemed to fall.

  The world around him faded, the erotic scent of her perfume thickening the air, heating his blood... Boiling his blood. He’d thought he’d escaped that scent when they’d exited the car, thought he’d eluded the sensual assault.

  He’d only delayed the inevitable.

  His shaft hardened painfully. His vision hazed, Vale becoming his sole focal point. The things he wanted to do to her... The things he would do.

  She was a fantasy come to life, temptation made flesh, and the essence of all three of Iviland’s vales. A ray of sunlight in his very dark world, a source of irresistible heat...and a force that guided him straight to his doom.