by Kristi Jones
"Immortals? You're telling me that you're immortal."
I clasped my hands, drew myself up to my full, and rather intimidating, height and caught his gaze. "You said it yourself. How many soldiers have you seen survive a hit from an AK-47 at close range?"
I let the question hang between us in the sand-saturated air.
The man dropped his hands, his shoulders sagging. "Head injury," he muttered to himself. "Has to be." He reached up, running his fingers through his cropped hair, searching for a wound.
"You are not injured."
He looked so confused, so frightened. I stepped forward, unable to resist the urge to envelope him in my arms, to try to allay his fears.
His head snapped up, his eyes suddenly alert, guarded.
“I can explain.”
“No,” he said, then turned and ran, sending up clouds of sand with each step.
I should have expected it.
It was time to show him who I was, to show him there was no escape. I took one running leap. It was only a small show of power. I aimed my landing perfectly, coming to rest not more than two feet in front of him, blocking his escape.
He locked his legs and fell forward to keep from running into me full force.
"I'm sorry," I said, speaking in sepulchral tones. "I don't want to frighten you. But you must not leave. It isn't safe."
He shook his head, but he met my gaze. "Are you real? I mean, am I losing my mind?"
I moved toward him, one careful step at a time.
His body went rigid, but he held his ground. I reached up and touched his cheek. He flinched against my caress, then stilled. His skin was hot to the touch and oh-so-very-soft. He had smooth skin peppered with grains of sand, and the feel of him, the vulnerable strength of his soft, mortal flesh, the tense muscles, the ephemeral physicality of him stilled my beating heart. He wet his lips, full parted lips that called to something deep inside my ancient soul, and for the first time in my long, long life, I wished I was a simple mortal. I wished that I could press my lips against his, taste his breath and take it into mine. I wished, against all reason, that I was not a Valkyrie.
"What is your name?"
"Jess. Sergeant Jesse Moran."
"Jess," I said, dropping my voice, adopting the same gestures I'd seen him use with the girl. "My name is Sabrina. I'm not going to hurt you. If you'll just sit down, I'll try to explain."
Chapter Three
Sergeant Jesse Moran was silent and avoided making eye contact. He had a wary, hunted look, as if I might be Medusa and one glance could suddenly turn him to stone.
We sat opposite each other, the small fire crackling between us. The temperature had dropped. It would be a cold night after all.
"So," Jess said. "Assuming for a moment that I'm not crazy or suffering a traumatic brain injury, why don't you go ahead and explain?"
"What do you want to know?"
He laughed, a harsh, cynical laugh that didn't match the compassion I'd seen earlier.
"I'm sorry. What do you want to know first?"
"Well, for starters, what exactly is a Valkyrie?"
I pulled the pins from my hair and ran my fingers through the long strands, grateful to be back to familiar territory, for while I had never rescued a soldier before, I had marked them and explained their fate. Of course, usually I was on my way to Valhalla and not breaking rules and hiding out in the desert with my contraband.
"Valkyries haunt the battlefield. Our mission is to find the heroic, courageous warrior, to mark him and bring him to Valhalla."
“Mark him? What does that mean?”
“It means we claim that warrior.”
“Claim him for what?”
“Well, for Valhalla.”
"What's that? Valhalla. I've heard that word before."
"It's a great hall, a castle if you will. It lies between worlds and so offers the best of both." In theory, that is. From all accounts, Valhalla wasn't what it used to be.
"What do you mean, the best of both worlds?"
"A chosen warrior is granted the gift of everlasting life. He is still human and yet immortal. As a reward for bravery, the marked warrior receives everlasting life as a young man. Like us, he will have his five senses and so enjoy the taste of mead, the sound of music, the smell of fresh bread, the sight and touch of beautiful women."
"Wait a minute," he said, stopping my litany of rewards. "Between worlds? Where is that?"
"Beyond. Beyond this world that you know."
"And you? You live between worlds?"
"Yes," I said, surprised by the question. No warrior had asked me that before.
"So you go out and pick up men from the battlefields," Jess said, a note of sarcasm lacing his words, "take them back to Valhalla, wine and dine them, then head out to the battlefield again... what, when you get bored?"
I laughed, pulling my hair over my shoulder. "Not exactly. To tell you the truth, Valkyries tend to avoid Valhalla."
"Why is that?"
"You ask a lot of questions for a mortal."
"Most of the men you capture aren't curious?"
“I didn't capture you," I said, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding. "I'm trying to keep you safe."
Jess nodded, twisting his lips. "Feels more like capture, but hey, it's your party."
"Well, most men are dazed and confused, rarely inquisitive. And dead."
I didn't mean for the words to sound like a lecture, an accusation, and I regretted them the moment the fear leapt back into his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant. I just ... I've never been in this position before."
"What position is that?"
"Violating the rules of engagement."
"How did you do that? What rules?"
"I'm not supposed to interact with mortals. Not unless I'm marking them for Valhalla."
"So, you interacted. So what? Thanks for saving my life and all, but I have to get back to my unit."
"I'm afraid you can't do that. Not yet."
"And I'm afraid I don't have a choice. I can't go AWOL, no matter what violations you've committed."
I didn't want to tell him about Death. I didn't want to push his mental state too far. Of course, I could keep him by sheer force, but I didn't want to do that either. I realized with a blushing sort of embarrassment that I wanted him to like me. To trust me. I was left with no choice but to tell the truth. At least, as much truth as I thought he could handle.
"When you saved the girl..."
"I didn't save the girl. If anyone saved the girl, it was you."
A heavy silence fell between us. The fire crackled and snapped, gleaming off Jess’s enticing skin.
I cleared my throat and started again. “When the girl drew her weapon, she must have known she was inviting Death.”
“What does that mean? Inviting death?”
“It’s hard for me to explain to you, a mortal, but Death keeps an eye out for situations that will give It a soul. It wanted the girl.”
“You’re talking about death like he was a person.”
“Not a person, no,” I said, shaking my head. “But Death is a being, of sorts. It can take on the guise of any life form. It can move from one life form to another, though it is weakened during the times between bodies, and Its purpose is to collect souls.”
“God,” Jess said, running a hand through his hair, blinking. “What does it do with the souls it takes?”
I shrugged. “Depends. Some are taken to Its lair, of course. Others ascend. I don’t really know what happens to them after that.”
“But you collect souls yourself.”
“No. I can mark a soul for Valhalla. The souls I do not mark? I’m not sure what happens to them.”
“I don’t understand,” Jess said, shifting his legs, moving into a crouch, legs splayed wide, resting his arms on his thighs. “If you’re a goddess, you’re part of the—you know—the afterlife.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t one
cohesive system that accounts for everything in the universe. There are other worlds, worlds apart from the mortal life you know on earth. There are worlds beneath this world and above. Each of these worlds has a history and a litany of gods and demons, mortal creatures, and immortals.”
Jess shook his head. He rose to his feet and began pacing. “This is crazy. It’s just crazy.”
“I know it must sound crazy, but the universe is a swirl of strange worlds and strange creatures, full of unexplained and inexplicable things. On some level, you must know this.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. I guess I’ve learned that on the battlefield. It’s one of the hardest things to accept in combat. You can draw battle lines on a map, you can plan a mission down the last detail, but the real thing is, well, it’s a mess.”
He took my breath away. He stood there, silhouetted against the star struck night sky, puzzling over the mysteries of the universe with me, as if it were quite natural. He was overwhelming and captivating and completely attractive.
“I know this is overwhelming, Jess,” I said, getting to my feet and trying to keep my voice steady and reassuring, “but you don’t need to work out the mysteries of the universe right now. We have a bigger, more immediate problem.”
Jess just looked at me, his jaw set as if he were bracing for my next words.
“Death has an overdeveloped sense of smell. It’s a relentless tracker.”
“That makes sense I guess,” Jess said, uncomprehending and so sweetly innocent.
“I’m afraid, well, it’s possible that It has your scent now,” I said, meeting his eyes, “It’s angry with me for setting in motion a chain of events that saved the girl. It was counting on having her soul, and I believe It will want revenge. An accounting.”
“What are you saying? That It will find the girl and kill her?”
My heart filled with pity and some other, welling, crashing emotion that I had no words for. “No, Jess,” I said, shaking my head sadly, “I’m saying that It wants you, and if I don’t find a way to stop it, Death will find you, and kill you.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why you can’t go back to your unit just yet. I have to find a way to keep Death from following you there.”
“Can you do that?”
“I will, Jess,” I said, going to him. I put my hands on his shoulders, turning him to face me. “I’ll do everything in my power to free you from Death. I promise.”
Jess stepped away from my touch. That muscle in his jaw twitched, and his fists were clenched. I’d frightened him, moving so close, so fast.
"We should get some sleep," I said, stepping away from him. It hurt to see the fear in his eyes, but I shouldn’t have expected anything else. He was only human, after all. I busied myself building a bed using Jesse’s emergency blanket, kicking away stones that might dig into his flesh while he slept.
When it was complete, I stretched out on the blanket with slow, deliberate movements. I laced my hands behind my back and looked up at the stars, giving him time to relax. Jess watched me with wary, hooded eyes.
"You're not going to do anything weird, are you?"
"Weird?"
"I don't know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You don't crave human flesh at midnight or anything like that, do you?"
"I'm a Valkyrie, not a Fenrir."
"A Fen-what?"
I propped up on my elbow and smiled at him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Jess. I did just save your life, remember?"
"Just keep your hands to yourself."
"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. But I wasn't sure I could keep my word. His green eyes had turned a dark amber in the moonlight, and I was mesmerized by the light playing across the planes of his face. He was so soft, so fragile, and yet so strong. I felt an almost irresistible urge to run my fingers along his jawline, to test its mettle.
We lay side by side underneath the emergency blanket, our bodies close, but not touching.
I counted the stars mapped out above me. I knew their positions as well as I knew my own face.
I listened to the rhythm of Jesse's breathing.
"What do you see up there?"
"The stars. The unchanging, never-ending stars."
"That's one of the things I like out here. Back home in Houston, well, you can see stars on a clear night, but not like this."
"Light pollution."
"Yeah."
"You said 'one of the things' you like out here. Are there other things?"
He shifted his body ever so slightly. Was it my imagination, or did he move closer?
"I don't know. I guess it's crazy, but I like the people. The simplicity of their lives, except when...” His voice trailed off.
"Except when they're armed."
Jess laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that reverberated through my body. "Yeah, except when they're armed."
A desert wind brushed past us. "It's getting cold."
"Here." I pulled the edges of the emergency blanket over us. Jess tucked the edge of it under his body, shutting out the rising wind.
"Good night, Sabrina."
"Good night, Jess."
It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. I lay beside him, the blanket holding us in a cocoon of heat, counting the stars. Valkyries feel cold; we eat; we have the ability to feel pain. And pleasure. But we have no real need for sleep.
Not all goddesses get the five senses, but the gods decided to endow us with these gifts so that we will have empathy for the mortal men on the battlefield and better understand the reward of Valhalla and the pleasures it will bring to the chosen warriors. And so I lay beside this mortal man, relishing the warmth of his body.
Sometime in the night, while I was tracking a satellite gliding across the night sky, he nestled against me. His hands found my waist, and his breath caressed my neck.
The warmth of his breath drove me mad with wanting.
For the second time that day, I did something without thinking. I pressed my body against his, an unwitting smile curling my lips. He snuggled closer, and I wrapped my arms around him. I could feel his manhood pressing against my thigh.
Stop. Stop this.
But his arms were tightening around me, and the heat of him sent my thoughts into a tumble, silencing all rational thought. I knew he was only semi-awake and most likely unaware of what his body was doing. He was in that sweet spot between dream and reality, and his body was responding only to my warmth—but I didn't care. I wanted him. I'd wanted him from the moment I saw him kneeling in the dirt, his gun at his feet, his sad eyes on the girl. That moment of total surrender had touched my withered heart like nothing else in my vast experience.
He shifted, getting into a more comfortable position, giving his hardness a place to rest just inside my thigh. I pulled his arms close and kissed his forehead. It was too much. He woke and started to pull away.
"God..." he mumbled, looking at me with bleary eyes.
"No," I whispered, "just me." Before he could leap to his feet, before he could shame me with his disgust and fear of my kind, I reached for him. My left hand rubbed against his incontrovertible need.
A sound emanated from his throat, a soft, surrendering growl. Unleashed, I rose to my knees, straddling him. I threw back my head, arched my back, and rubbed against the thick rod pushing against the restraining fabric of his fatigues. His hips rose to meet mine and we fell into a synchronized rhythm. When the muscles in my thighs began to burn, I collapsed against his chest. His lips brushed against my neck. Oh, how I wanted to look down and kiss those soft, giving lips.
Instead I moved away from his impending kiss. I freed him from the restrictions of button and zipper with one quick motion and grasped the pulsing heat of him.
Jess groaned again, louder this time.
He began kissing my neck in earnest, and the desire to meet his lips raged through me, a rising crescendo beating out a frantic rhythm inside me. He ran his hands under my shirt, but I couldn't have that either. I had
to have him, and if he found my wings, he might run. Run screaming into the blackened desert. So I reached for his hands and moved them to my own zipper. "Take them off."
We traded places. Jess pulled at my fatigues and panties. He ripped off his t-shirt. He was on his knees, facing me, his cut chest and chiseled biceps silhouetted against the starlit night. I unlaced my boots with quick, determined hands and watched him shed the last of his clothes.
I gasped. "You're magnificent."
He smiled down at me, his even, white teeth winking at me. The lust in his eyes was a familiar sight, but my body's reaction to it was not.
I reached for him again, straddling him and pressing his face against my breasts. "Envelope me, Jess. Cover me."
I opened my legs and guided him into me. He kissed my neck, nipped my ear. Our breath mingled together in the cool night, but I did not let his lips touch mine.
A sound, a moaning, purring sound rose from somewhere deep inside me. It had been so long since I'd let a mortal man touch me. The sound seemed to drive him mad.
He ran his hands down my back, gripped the soft rise of my buttocks, sucking at my neck, thrusting into me. I rose to meet his rhythm, relishing the feel of him, the delicate power of his mortal body.
How long had it been since I'd felt the pulsing hot flesh of a mortal man? Too long. His manhood plunged into me, hitting a place so deep inside that I let out a long, echoing cry of pleasure.
When it was over, I had to physically bite my own flesh to keep from pressing my lips against his. I wanted to feel his kiss, meet his eyes, hold him inside my very soul. But a kiss was impossible.
For when a Valkyrie touches the lips of a mortal man with her own, he is marked. A marked man ascends to Valhalla. And to do that, the marked man must die.
With his body wrapped around me, his arms circled tightly around my waist, I savored the feeling of the warm sticky juices of our lovemaking sealing us together in the cold.
When he spoke, his voice startled me. "Sabrina," he said, his lips against my ear. "Sabrina."
The timber of his voice when he said my name sent a shiver along my spine and down between my legs. It was like a touch, his voice. A vibrating caress.
