Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  She feigned left, darted right, but pain and blood loss had slowed her momentum. At least she’d managed to avoid decapitation. This time.

  To his surprise—and gratification—she pivoted at the last second to slice a line across his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

  Out for the count?

  No. He cursed. His head was still attached to his body.

  Stop at nothing. Ansel’s words reverberated inside his mind.

  Struggling to breathe, he summoned shadows. In seconds, darkness filled the bunker, blinding Vale, while his view remained unobstructed.

  He studied her, this woman he so adored—his next victim. She stood, head up, shoulders back, sword raised, legs braced apart. A warrior’s stance. His ally until the end, willing to fight for him, even if she had to pay a terrible price.

  With a roar, Knox dove on her. They landed on the bed and bounced on the mattress, Vale absorbing the bulk of the impact. Air gusted from her, his heavy weight crushing her. The wound he’d given her gaped open, a river of blood pouring out.

  He ripped the sword from her grip and rose to his knees. She whimpered. Did she try to stop him? No. Did she try to flee from him? No again.

  She surrendered to him, accepting his inability to defeat the compulsion.

  Though she couldn’t see, she tendered a sad, watery smile up at him. “It’s okay, baby. I understand. If you’re going to die later, I’m happy to die now. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. I’m excited to meet Minka. I’ll tell her all about the wonderful man you’ve become. It’s okay, baby,” she repeated, reaching up to pet his chest and offer comfort. “It’s okay. Do it. Do what you must. I love you, and I forgive you. It’s okay.”

  Baby. She’d called him baby once again. He choked back a ragged howl and raised his blood-soaked daggers. His arms shook uncontrollably.

  About to end her life...

  And she was going to let him do it. Because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him. Because she loved him more than she loved her own life.

  She was going to tell his daughter good things.

  Wonderful man...not even close.

  As Vale peered up at him, love shining in her eyes, he dropped one of the daggers. Only one. Come on, come on. The hand with the weapon shook. Sweat ran down his brow in rivulets now. Muscles strained, some on his side, others on Ansel’s.

  “Help...me,” he pleaded, dismissing the shadows. “Knock me out before—”

  Between one blink and the next, she swiped up the discarded dagger and rammed the hilt into his temple, once, twice, a third time.

  “Harder.” The blade inched toward her neck...toward the pulse hammering with life. A place he’d kissed and licked and wanted to kiss and lick again.

  The bones in his shoulder fractured as he resisted. Inching down...

  Love her so much.

  “Please,” he croaked. His breaths grew more labored. So did hers.

  If he ended her, he would have to watch her eyes dull and her body go limp.

  Another inch.

  Another.

  Accepting her inability to knock him out, Vale stopped hitting him...and stabbed him in the neck.

  The blade exited with a piece of his throat. He welcomed the sting, rejoiced over the burn in his lungs, thrilled as warm blood jetted from the wound...smiled when he sagged forward, his world going dark.

  * * *

  EVEN AS VALE’S heart shattered like glass, she got to work, wiggling out from under him. She was soaked with blood, a mix of hers and Knox’s.

  If they were mortal, they’d already be dead.

  “He’s going to live, and he’s going to live free,” she said, giving herself a pep talk. They were superheroes, and superheroes got happy endings.

  Plagued by urgency, she rushed around the bunker, performing necessary tasks one at a time, trying not to think or worry—trying to just do.

  Get the chains. Lock one of his wrists to the foot of the bed so that he couldn’t chase her around. Dig her Rifters out of his pocket, just in case. Cut off the remains of his T-shirt. Pick up Gunnar’s sword.

  She examined the hilt, searching for the indentations he’d mentioned...yes, okay. They were slight, but they were there.

  Shaking, she forced Knox’s free arm to lift and his fingers to curl around the hilt, the metal resting against his chest as she’d seen in her dream. But just like in the Amazonian cave, the sword remained intact, and Knox continued to bleed. The gaping wound in his throat had begun to close at least. He was healing on his own.

  Frick! It was too soon.

  Was he resisting the bond to the sword? Did he need to be conscious for it? Had she placed his fingers on the proper indentions?

  She readjusted his grip, only to pause. Maybe she should drain him of more blood first? Should she cut off the tattoos, too? Drill holes in his bones, as she’d suggested before? Maybe, maybe not, but she was going to complete every task just to be safe, because she couldn’t go through this again.

  Hating herself, she set the sword aside and used one of the daggers to flay the tattoos from his flesh. Around his neck, his wrists and ankles. More blood poured from him.

  “Lack of blood won’t kill him,” she told herself. Her hand shook a thousand times worse as she labored, sometimes cutting out too much muscle, or severing an artery or vein. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rolled him to his side to remove the marks on his spine.

  Time for another pep talk. “Only beheading, the removal of his heart or burning him to ash will kill him. He’ll recover from anything else.”

  Twice she lost the battle with nausea and had to step away to vomit, but always she went back, sitting on her haunches, cutting, cutting. When she finished with the marks, she tried to use the daggers to drill into his bones, but ended up causing compound fractures instead.

  She posed him with the sword once again. Adjusted the hilt. Readjusting. Readjusting—

  Knox’s entire body jolted.

  Bingo! She fell back, strength beyond her as she watched the metal liquefy and absorb into his skin. He lay there, as still as death, his wounds closing, skin weaving together...the tattoos growing back, too.

  A shriek of frustration left her. What had she done wrong? Unless the tattoos had returned simply because they were part of his immortal makeup, and now lacked power? Beneath the cold lash of fear, hope was like a warm fire.

  When would he awaken?

  As if he’d read her mind and hoped to reassure her, he opened his eyes and bolted upright.

  “Knox!”

  He turned his head, his gaze finding her. She gasped. His eyes were not blue, but silver, the same shade as the sword.

  “Put. Hilt. Back,” he commanded, his voice low and raspy as she tasted her beloved honeyed whiskey.

  She tossed the hilt in his direction. He caught it, held it against his forehead...the silver cleared from his irises, the melted metal bubbling up from his skin, forming into a sword and hardening.

  His arm fell to his side, the weapon tumbling from his grip. Their gazes met once again, and she waited, tense and hopeful...

  “The compulsion to obey Ansel,” he said, sounding amazed. “It’s gone.” With a single tug, he busted free of the chains and wrapped his arms around her.

  What he didn’t do? Try to kill her.

  As she sagged against him, she laughed and cried at once. “If I’d known you could break through chains so easily, I wouldn’t have bothered with them.”

  Really? Those were the first words out of her mouth?

  “They kept me from you. Nothing keeps me from you.” He kissed her neck, her racing pulse. “I’m so sorry, valina. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  “I understand, and I’m good.” She nestled closer, all but burrowing into him. “And let’s not forget I hurt you, to
o.”

  “I will be forever grateful that you did. You stopped me from destroying what I treasure most. You...my sun. You warm me, light my path and guide me, and I would rather die a thousand deaths than harm you.”

  Oh, this man of mine. There was none better. “What will Ansel do when he learns the truth?”

  “I don’t know. I only know he has no more power over me. I’m free of him.” He laughed with unadulterated joy. “Vale, I’m truly free of him!”

  Not to be a total downer, but... “Are you bound to the sword, as feared?”

  “Let’s find out. Hold it, and command me to do something I don’t want to do.”

  Though she hated letting go of him, even for a second, she did it. After picking up the sword, she gave her lips a nervous swipe with her tongue, she said, “Knox, I command you to...smack my butt.”

  She waited with bated breath. When disappointment flared in his eyes, she knew. Yes, he was bound to the sword.

  He lightly smacked her butt.

  “Oh, Knox.” Stomach sinking, she dropped the sword. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, don’t be sorry.” He gathered her close. “We’ve done the impossible. I’m free of Ansel, the power of the slave bands nullified. Now, we will guard the sword. No one will take it from us. We will fight this war on our terms while searching for a way to break the weapon’s power over me.”

  “And a way to win the war, the two of us, together, and save Earth,” she said, her voice soft now. “If we have to, we’ll defeat the High Council, too. We’ll earn our happily-ever-after one way or another.”

  “I’m living my happily-ever-after already,” he replied, and she smiled. “In shadow, you are my light.”

  With their foreheads pressed together, she responded in kind. “In ice, you are my warmth.”

  “In life and in death, your love guides me home.” He kissed her. “In war, you are my prize. In darkness, you are my sun.”

  She laughed with relish. “Sap!” Then she sighed dreamily. “In this world and any other, you are my forever.”

  “Eternity with my Vale. Where do I sign?”

  * * *

  KNOX RELAXED IN the warmth of the pool. Vale’s back was pressed against the ledge while his back was pressed against her chest. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as she ran a cloth over him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he’d never been happier.

  Not only was he free of the vile Ansel, he’d received a pledge of unwavering love and devotion from his woman.

  Would they have smooth sailing for the rest of their lives? No, absolutely not. She was still wanted by the Earth police for the things that had happened in Colorado. The All War promised to be more savage than ever; they were fighting a completely different battle now.

  Everything had changed.

  Earlier Vale had said, “In the words of Gandalf, the battle for Helm’s Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin.” Knox had understood the gist. They had so much more to do.

  Now, the stakes were higher. He had a sword and woman to guard with his life when two other groups of warriors entered the fray.

  Maybe the original combatants would band together to take out the newcomers. Maybe each set of combatants would team up with other representatives from their home-realm. Time would tell. Either way, Knox was glad to have a team in place. Vale, Zion and Bane. His allies.

  He’d never had true allies before, other soldiers willing to put their lives at risk for him, just as he would put his life at risk for them. To his surprise, a strange, beautiful peace accompanied the knowledge.

  Who were these new warriors? What powers did they possess? What weapons did they wield? What was so bad about the representatives of Llura?

  And what if the war could be stopped? What if the remaining combatants could live here, always, a winner never officially declared? Both Vale and Knox would be saved. The warriors would have to turn their sights to the High Council instead of each other.

  Not a bad idea. The High Council had to be dealt with, and soon. Knox would broach the idea to his allies, get their take on the matter. He actually looked forward to it.

  Once the All War and High Council were neutralized, he would return to Iviland with Vale at his side and kill Ansel, as planned—as needed. Until then, Knox would console himself with the death of Ansel’s son. The prince would be the first to taste death in this new war, for Knox could never allow the greedy bastard a chance to rule.

  Now, at least, Knox had time to figure out the best way to achieve each of his goals.

  Vale rested her chin on his shoulder. “Your life was a whole lot less complicated before I stumbled upon your frozen body, huh?”

  “That is true. My life was also a whole lot less exciting.”

  “You aren’t wrong. But let’s be real. Without me, you could have gone farther in the war by now.”

  “I would have remained a slave to Ansel, dead inside. He never would have kept his word, and I would have been forced to fight in another war, and another, until I died.” Knox reached back to comb his damp fingers through her hair and angle her face toward his. “If you think I would change anything that happened, you are sorely mistaken. Adversity brought us together, made us stronger—strong enough to do what needs doing. We wouldn’t be ready otherwise.”

  He kissed her, hard and thoroughly, stealing her breath and destroying rational thought. By the time he lifted his head, they were both panting.

  “Winning your hand in marriage,” he said, gently tracing a finger along her jaw, “will be the greatest victory of my life.”

  She grinned at him. “You want to marry me?”

  “I want to tie your life to mine in as many ways as possible. I want to be yours, in a way I’ve never been another’s. I want us both to have the family we’ve always craved.”

  “Married...a family of my own...yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I accept your proposal, and promise to love, honor and cherish you all the days of my life.” She glided her hands down his stomach and wrapped her fingers around his erection, squeezed. “So, do you know anything about earthly honeymoons?”

  Air hissed between his teeth. “No.”

  “Then it will be my pleasure to show you, baby. Hang on and enjoy the ride.”

  * * * * *

  Gena Showalter’s thrilling

  Gods of War saga continues with

  the story of Bane and Nola,

  coming soon... Don’t miss it!

  List of Combatants,

  as Dictated by Knox of Iviland

  and Vale of Terra

  Adonis of Callum. Male, with a multicolored mohawk and symbols shaved into the sides of his head. (Why? What do they mean?) Wields the Horn of Summoning, which is able to raise an army of animals, men and women, living or dead. Allied with Erik.

  Ammarie of Evain. Female, comes from a smoke realm. Uses a mystical bow and arrow known as The Bloodthirsty, which shoots with 100 percent accuracy. The arrow must taste blood before it will fall; if the arrow continues to taste blood, it will remain active, and has the potential to defeat an entire army.

  Bane of Adwaeweth. Male with a beast trapped within. When the creature breaks free of its inner leash, it can level mountains. Comes from a shadow realm; his greatest weakness is light. Weapon is a pair of goggles that allows him to see through any obstacle. Despised by most other realms, like all citizens of Adwaeweth. Has won two other All Wars.

  Bold “Bo” of Mörder. Male, from a realm of assassins. Wields a hammer able to shatter every bone in an immortal body with a single strike. Allied with Erik.

  Cannon of Dellize. Male, from an ice realm. Wields the Rod of Clima, able to control weather.

  Carrick of Infernia. Male, well-known prince from a fire realm who obeys the dictates of no one. Has strange markings tattooed on his face and body. Those mar
kings pulse with magic and create a temporary force field around him and anyone he touches. Owns a dagger capable of turning blood into lava, burning a victim from the inside out.

  Celeste of Occisor. Female, from somewhere known as a “flowering” realm. Has the ability to temporarily vanish from sight, becoming intangible, and wields a sword that leaks poison capable of nullifying innate abilities. Also produces a seduction pheromone. Has won a single All War.

  Colt of Orfet. Male, with a ring that contains hundreds of tiny bots. Those bots can burrow under a person’s skin and shred their organs; they also act as trackers and spies.

  Domino “Dom” of Rhagan. Male, from a fire realm. Has a metal shield able to surround him completely; it can appear in a blink and vanish just as quickly or remain in place for hours, and it is the only thing capable of withstanding Zion’s metal gloves and Ronan’s sword.

  Emberelle of Loandria. Female. Has a metal band that drapes over her forehead and allows her to read the minds of anyone around her.

  Erik of Terra. Male, former mortal viking. Acquired the Rod of Clima. Claims to desire peace with the combatants. Has built a massive arsenal.

  Gunnar of Trodaire. Male, able to move objects with his mind. Possesses a healing sword. Lover of Celeste.

  Halo of Forêt. Male, with mechanical wings that allow him to fly. Each wing resembles a raven and has the ability to detach and fly on their own. He can walk through walls.

  Hunter of Klioway. Male. Has a small, thin wooden wand—capable of remaking the landscape?

  Jagger of Leiddiad. Male with fangs that liken him to a vampire. Owns a revolver able to mystically reload.

  Kellen of Villám. Male. Has a sickle with unknown power.

  Knox of Iviland. Has won four All Wars, and is about to win his fifth.

  Legend of Honoria. Male, with a matching set of daggers. Hooks at the ends of the blades, brass knuckles for handles.

  Lennox of Winslet. Male with wrist cuffs that may or may not have the power to reverse time.

  Luca of Graeland. Male, with a long-range rifle—able to shoot at great distances.

  Major of Etheran. Male, with a spyglass that can glimpse into the lives of others, wherever they are.