Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  “Then you went about your day,” she added bitterly, “as if nothing had happened between us. Because you think I’m undeserving of cuddle time. And I know I sound ridiculous and pouty, but I thought it was important to show you every side of me. That’s right. I just implied I’m doing this as a favor to you.”

  Cuddle time? Undeserving?

  She’d been through so much in so little time, had probably felt on edge since all of this started. Then, while they’d pleasured each other, she’d found a way to block out the worst of her circumstances, most likely for the first time. Then he’d walked away, and the uncertainty had come crashing back.

  The way her mind worked was both strangely adorable and utterly heart wrenching at the same time. Their insecurities were similar, and ran deep. Multiple rejections had left scars, and now she expected everyone to find her lacking in some way.

  Vale, his tough-as-nails female, hurt in her heart, and Knox couldn’t abide it.

  “You want to cuddle,” he said, “we cuddle.”

  She bristled, quickly donning her armor. “I wasn’t saying I want to cuddle.”

  “Indulge me, then.” In a lightning-fast move, he picked her up and tossed her to the other end of the mattress. As she bounced, he leaped on top of her and pinned her down.

  Beautiful and enchanting, she laughed up at him. “Fine. I will do this. But only because I’m a giver.”

  “Obviously. Now, you should know I’m a cuddle-time virgin. You’ll have to teach me how to do it. Afterward, I’ll teach you how to sword fight.”

  “Agreed. Oh, and FYI, pickles is your cuddle-time safe word. If, at any time, you become afraid of your emotions, use your safe word, and I’ll try to stop being amazing.”

  “Funny girl,” he grumbled, and rolled her to her side to playfully smack her ass.

  “Lesson one,” she said, cupping his jaw and turning his head so that they were eye to eye. “You have to look at me like I’m the reason you breathe. Yeah, yeah. Just like that.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Now wrap your arm around me, and fit me against the curve of your body. Hold on like you never ever want to let me go.”

  Easy. He didn’t want to let her go.

  He propped up on pillows and pivoted to his side, ensuring her head rested in the hollow of his neck as he draped his arm around her back and relaxed his hand against the underside of her plump breast. One of her legs brushed against his growing erection—he hooked his fingers on the underside of her knee to maintain contact.

  “Fit you against me like this?” He hoped so, because it made him feel necessary to her.

  “Like this.” A sigh of contentment slipped from her as she drew a heart on his chest. “I’d consider this absolute perfection if not for your shirt. Why are you wearing one, anyway? You usually don’t.”

  “Wear a shirt, clean a shirt. It’s an endless cycle.”

  “You go shirtless to avoid laundry?” Her next laugh was music to his ears. “Such a guy thing.”

  “Your turn to answer a question.” He lifted her lovely inked fingers to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. “What do your tattoos mean?”

  “Honestly, there’s no hidden meaning. I wanted to accessorize but couldn’t afford diamonds.”

  One day he would buy her a big—

  Nothing.

  As she traced a fingertip around his nipple, she said, “Will you tell me about your daughter? About how she died?”

  Always before, he’d denied such requests because he’d known the pain of his past could be used against him. But he wanted to share with Vale.

  “She was two when the king—Ansel—forced me to attend my second All War. Though I fought, I couldn’t stop the soldiers as she was marked for slavery in case I lost the battle. Then I had to leave her behind while she sobbed for me to come back.”

  Heartbreak and sympathy emanated from Vale. “Oh, Knox.”

  The rest of the story rushed from him; he knew if he paused, he would sob. “She was supposed to be protected. A valuable asset meant to ensure I eagerly obeyed my king. Instead, she was beaten, abused in horrendous ways and treated as less than nothing. She ran away a few months before I returned, and not even the best hunters could find her. But I did. She’d abandoned the underground tunnels to venture topside, where the hunters wouldn’t go. The extreme climates and air toxins kept everyone but criminals and desperate citizens away. When I found her, she’d been... She was dead, had died only a short while ago, her battered body somewhat preserved by the elements.”

  His voice frayed at the edges. His eyes burned, seared by unshed tears, and his jaw ached as he gnashed his teeth.

  “Oh, Knox,” Vale repeated. She clung to him, her tears dripping onto his chest.

  He knew she cried for all he’d lost, for all Minka had suffered. The woman who had refused to break down in front of him, who had lifted her chin time and time again to forge ahead despite the circumstances, had no defense against his pain.

  I am gutted. He clung right back.

  When she calmed, she said, “Did you punish the ones who’d hurt her?”

  “They died screaming.”

  “I don’t think I should be pleased about the suffering of others, but I am.” She wiped her eyes and nose—on his shirt. “They deserved—”

  “Let’s put a pin in this conversation. Did you just use me as a handkerchief?”

  “Yes.” She blinked at him, all innocence. “Excuse me for being super high maintenance and all, needing a tissue you don’t have.”

  He snickered, and then he barked out a strange sound that reminded him of laughter. This woman. Oh, this woman.

  “Your situation was just as tough as Minka’s,” he said, brushing a damp lock of hair from her beautiful, precious face.

  Her amusement died a quick death. So did his.

  “Some of my foster parents were abusive, yes,” she said. “One or two of the dads tried to get handsy. A handful of foster siblings ensured I understood that I didn’t belong in their family. Trust me, I knew. Then I met Nola and a woman named Carrie, and they showed me the true meaning of love.”

  Aching for the girl she’d been, he cuddled her closer and did something new to him—he petted her. She’d never had a parent fight for her, never felt as if she belonged with a family, so she’d made her own.

  He kissed her temple. They lay in bed, silent, fatigue soon catching up with him. Knox resisted the need for sleep. He wasn’t ready to drift off, wasting precious time with Vale. And did he trust her in his bed, his bunker, unbound?

  Yes. Yes, he did.

  “I want to show you something.” He reached back, opened the hidden panel in the headboard and pressed a series of buttons.

  Above them, the ceiling transformed.

  She gasped. “A night sky scattered with stars.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this an illusion? Or are we really staring up at the sky?”

  “Illusion. This is a standard amenity for luxury bunkers. Living underground, illusion keeps you sane.”

  “I’m awed.”

  The strange surge of affection returned and redoubled, and he peered at her, saying, “As am I.”

  Her gaze met his. Whatever she saw in his expression spooked her, because she hurried to change the subject. “So, um, we should probably get down to business. Erik mentioned he has spies everywhere, has tons of money, hired countless employees and set a million traps. A long-winded way of saying he’s hindered everyone else.”

  He embraced the topic, not yet ready to face the emotions blooming inside him. “Don’t you mean us? He’s hindered every one of us.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Since he’s immortal, I’d bet he’s switched identities a time or twenty. If we learn who he’s been, we can figure out who he is and who he’ll be, and steal his money. We can
hinder him, using his advantages against him, taking away the things he’s come to rely on.”

  A pause. Then, “You know this world better than I do. How do you suggest we proceed?”

  * * *

  KNOX, CHANGING MY life one orgasm at a time.

  He was changing her life one look at a time, too, and it was freaking Vale out a little because it was also thrilling her. Those looks made promises; they said he would kill for her...die for her.

  An illusion, only an illusion, like the sky.

  But frick a brick, a girl could get used to that, to him, to all of this.

  They’d gotten together quickly, their entire relationship a whirlwind. With life-and-death stakes and a looming expiration date, she understood the need.

  Just relax. Enjoy.

  That, she could do. Practically purring with satisfaction, she snuggled deeper into his side. Now that she’d climaxed, eaten and bawled her eyes out, she had no defenses against him or exhaustion. A yawn cracked her jaw, and she struggled to remain awake.

  She didn’t want cuddle time to end. Knox’s strength, warmth and lush sensuality surrounded her in a cocoon of bliss, making their different topics easier to handle. But the best part? He remained open with her. He’d even sought her advice about the war.

  Pulling from spy movies, she said, “We could purposely feed him bad intel online, misdirect his efforts and lead him into a trap.”

  Thoughtful, he replied, “Erik is telling combatants to stop fighting each other to forever halt the All War. Adonis agrees it’s possible. Rush pretends.”

  “Yeah, they hinted at this when they captured me.”

  “Rules state a war will rage as long as necessary, that there’s no time limit. If a winner is never declared, no other realms can invade.”

  “But rules can be broken, right?”

  “Exactly right.”

  Besides, she didn’t like the idea of the AW suspended, the threat of invasion never completely eradicated.

  Clearly uncomfortable, Knox rubbed the intricate tattoo banded around his neck. “What information did Celeste gather about me and my realm? I’m sure she kept a mental file on the combatants. Most of us do.”

  What did his mental file on his little valina say? “Let’s see what else I can unearth,” she said.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on Celeste’s memories. Just as before, some of those memories were hazy, others crystal clear. Knox, Knox—there! His fight with Gunnar...digging deeper...taking charge when the Vikings attacked...deeper still...a shared glance with Celeste minutes before the attack...

  Whoa! Celeste had not crushed on Knox. She’d feared him, his emotionless gaze leaving her cold and shaky.

  Day one of the war, she’d witnessed his first kill.

  Like a movie playing in Vale’s mind, she watched as a man punched at Knox, who dodged and kicked out his leg, his booted foot snapping the other man’s fibula. As he screamed in agony, Knox kicked again, shattering the bones in his ankle, hobbling him completely.

  Another man sneaked up behind Knox, snaked one arm around his neck to choke him out and raised the other—a dagger with a brass-knuckled hilt glinted in the moonlight.

  A dagger she’d seen Knox wield in real life.

  All lethal grace and brute force, he grabbed the man’s wrist and threw an elbow, bent down and swooped to the side, gliding free of the choke hold and using shadows to shove his opponent to the ground.

  He leaped, grabbing the man’s hair with one hand to lift his torso. With his other hand, he forced him to stab himself in the heart, again and again, hacking at the organ to remove it bit by bit.

  Not once did Knox lose track of the fights raging around him. He was the personification of cold determination.

  He was death walking.

  Deeper still. Celeste stood in the center of a massive arena, shoulder to shoulder with other combatants while facing a cheering crowd. Robed Enforcers inspected weapons and Rifters, their hoods drawn forward to hide their faces. Her heart raced.

  Fear had chilled Celeste’s blood. She’d won one war, yes, but only because the warriors hadn’t known about the pheromone—the best-kept secret of her realm. Now, with the High Council involved...what if the truth had spread?

  As a distraction, she focused on her protect-and-kill-if-necessary list.

  Malaki would be first. He owned armor with hidden spikes, and she would use him as a shield.

  Hunter would be next. He had a small, thin wand capable of crafting illusions anywhere, anytime. While Celeste could hide herself for seconds, he could hide her for hours.

  Ranger owned winged boots. If a situation got bad enough, he could whisk her to a new location. Plus, as old as he was, he might be strong enough to take out the fabled Knox of Iviland, who had no obvious weaknesses, had never trusted a partner and, according to rumor, would rather kill a woman than bed her.

  Knox was a slave compelled to do his king’s bidding, and once a command was given, nothing could stop him from obeying it. According to an Iviland soldier her sister had seduced and interrogated in the City of All, where the High Council resided and citizens from any realm could visit—where violence was prohibited—Knox had been forced to kill his friends as a child. So, even if Celeste did the impossible and convinced Knox to aid her, his king could override her hard work with a single demand.

  Icy dread whisked Vale back to the present. She blinked rapidly, clearing her mind, and clutched her stomach to ward off a sudden ache. “I knew you were enslaved,” she said, her voice trembling, “but I didn’t know...”

  He was rigid, emanating humiliation, frustration and rage. “Say it.”

  “Wh-whatever your king decrees, you are forced to do.”

  “Always. No exceptions.”

  She licked her lips. “If he tells you to lie to me, torture me or kill me...”

  “I will lie to you, torture you or kill you. No exceptions,” he repeated, his tone hollow.

  Ouch. If she were smart, she’d gather her belongings and leave Knox in her dust. As long as he was bound to Ansel, he couldn’t be trusted. He was an ambush waiting to happen. So why did she stay put?

  “Since the moment of my birth,” he said, “I’ve been bound by the whims of another, my life never my own. Ansel says he’ll set me free if I win the Terran All War.”

  “And you believe him?” Trying not to hyperventilate, she sat up.

  He stared up at her, bleak. “No. I want to believe, have told myself I have no other choice, but he must know he’d be better off killing me. Free, I would be of no use to him, would always pose a threat to his well-being.”

  “Did he explain how he’d set you free? Maybe we can duplicate—”

  “No.” Eyes like wounds, he toyed with the ends of her hair. “Centuries ago, I cut off hanks of skin and muscle to remove my tattoos. Slave bands. The marks grew back, the ink a taint in my blood, my cells.”

  Cut off... Wow. The pain he must have suffered. Give me Ansel’s head on a silver platter.

  “I want you to understand how grave our situation is,” he said. “I had few friends as a child, but I killed them when Ansel gave the order. I couldn’t stop myself. That is why I’ve never let myself grow attached to others, why I avoid alliances.”

  Until me.

  That. That was why she didn’t leave Knox in her dust. She meant something to him.

  Vale ached for the boy he’d been and admired the man he’d become.

  “With Ronan’s spyglass,” he said, “I can better hunt Carrick of Infernia. He has a dagger able to transform blood into lava. If I can burn away the ink’s taint...”

  He could gain his freedom. “It’s too risky. If you accidentally burn to ash, you’ll be dead. You can’t recover from that.”

  “The very reason I won’t allow him to stab me and simply be
done with it. When the dagger is mine to control, I’ll take every precaution, do the deed here in the bunker, while submerged in freezing water. No one will sneak up on me while I’m injured, so I’ll have a better chance of mending.” A bitter laugh. “Success or failure, it’s a win for you. One less combatant to fight, yeah?”

  Oh, that stung. “If you control Carrick’s dagger, you’ll be immune to its effects, right?”

  “Wrong. The knife you wield cuts you just as easily as the knife your opponent wields. Same goes for a weapon’s supernatural abilities.”

  The same was true for a person’s supernatural abilities, she realized. Look at the pheromone, and the way it revved her motor. Still, she slapped his chest, saying, “I should be the one to kill Carrick, just to be safe.”

  “Or you like the thought of stabbing me.”

  “Yeah, that, too. To be honest, I’m hoping we can find another way to free you—”

  “Pickles,” Knox interjected, his tone soft.

  She pressed her lips together, going quiet. The frustrating man had used what she’d meant in jest against her. Well, no matter. Vale London, superhero, was on the case. She would find a way to free him, independent of the war, without risking his life, and nothing would stop her. Not even Ansel. Which didn’t bode well for her win-at-all-costs strategy.

  Ugh. One task at a time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  KNOX HELD VALE close as she drifted to sleep. He had passed tired a long while ago, reaching a state of pure exhaustion, yet he couldn’t stop playing with his woman’s hair, running his fingers through the silken locks. The contrasting colors mesmerized him. Black-and-white hair against his bronze skin.

  He didn’t know why, and wasn’t going to analyze it, but he wanted to do something special for her, something that would mean more to her than the jewelry she’d once coveted. He knew of only one thing she wanted—her sister.

  He’d convinced Vale to cut ties with Nola as a preventative measure. Had he made the right call? In the bunker, Nola would remain safe, protected. Outside the bunker, she was fair game.

  If anything happened to her, Vale would be destroyed, would blame Knox and probably herself. After blame came hate.