by Chloe Cole
Night had sucked the last of the light from the sky by the time they glided back down the mountainside and walked up the pathway to the château, arms locked around one another’s waists.
Drake and Willa were going to lose their minds, but he needed to make sure that he had a chance to speak to them both alone before they saw Taya.
“Did Mina say where she planned to go after she brought you to me?” he asked, tugging at a strand of silky hair as Taya nuzzled his shoulder.
“She said we wouldn’t see her for a while because she had some business to take care of back in France, and not to worry if she didn’t call.”
He nodded in response but didn’t reply. Because he knew what his gentle love did not. The wolves in power here in Montana might have shown leniency in a recent case of a shifter turning a human, but the European Council of Shifters would not take such a thing so lightly.
Someone would pay for this insolence, and he knew with complete certainty who that someone would be.
Mina.
His stomach clenched as the magnitude of her selfless act humbled him all over again. She’d known what it would cost.
Her position with the Council.
Her freedom.
And, more than likely, her life. The only way the powers that be could ensure that this type of thing didn’t become a habit was to make an example of her.
Which was why he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask her or Willa to do the deed when Taya had asked about it that night.
How could he have lived with the knowledge that he’d placed more worth on his own mate’s life than that of his two friends? No, even if Drake wouldn’t have killed him for suggesting it, the guilt would’ve eaten him alive if something happened to either one of them.
Instead, he’d been committed to taking Taya into hiding and then finding a safer way. Since he was a child, there had been rumors. Old wives spoke in hushed whispers of a “worthy few” humans being changed over the years by gypsy shifters who traveled small groups across Eastern Europe. He had hoped he could find someone who would see what he saw in Taya and agree to change her. They lived so far off the grid and under the Council’s radar that the risk of them ever finding out who’d turned her was almost nil. An un-punishable crime.
But all that planning was moot now, because Mina had thrown herself on the knife.
She’d risked it all for he and Taya without a single thought for her own safety.
“Etienne? Is everything all right?” Taya asked, a frown furrowing her brow.
He nodded and tugged her closer, working up a smile. “It’s better than all right. It’s going to be amazing,” he said. Because it would be. He would make sure of it.
Besides loving Taya with every ounce of his being for the rest of his days, the only other way to honor his friend’s sacrifice was to make sure he didn’t squander this gift by doing anything foolhardy.
And he’d make sure to get right on that.
Just as soon as he figured out how to return the favor and save her crazy ass…
Valkyrie’s Choice
Mina Silva has f*%ed up big time.
After breaking shifter law by turning a human into a Valkyrie, she’s on the run from assassins who aren’t going to quit until she’s paid the ultimate price. Her stop in a one-horse Montana town is meant to be nothing more than a chance to regroup, but then she meets the local Sheriff. And he changes everything…
Battle-worn and desperate for a little peace, Army Ranger Dan McCafferty left the military for a quieter life as Sheriff of Styx, Montana. Three missing people and two grisly murders later, he starts to wonder if death and destruction will shadow him forever. When a gorgeous stranger rolls into town, he knows she’s got something to do with all the mayhem, but that doesn’t stop the all-consuming need that takes over every time she looks his way…
Chapter One
"I'll have a shot of tequila. Save the training wheels, and keep them coming."
Mina stared expectantly at the young male bartender, who couldn't seem to shake himself out of the stupor he was in as he gawked at her, motionless.
God save her from college-aged human males. She didn't know how they got through the day half the time. Like one, giant hormone, ready to explode. The scent of this one's attraction mingled with the smell of stale beer and the Axe Body Spray he'd doused himself with, and she willed herself to ignore it.
"Are you all right?" she asked as politely as she could manage, which wasn't very. Luckily, it seemed to jar him back to real life.
"Yeah, uh, yeah, sure. Tequila, you said, right?"
She nodded and blew out a relieved sigh as he sprung into action, plucking out a shot glass and glancing over at the jewel-toned bottles in search of her particular poison.
To be fair to the kid, it couldn't have come fast enough for her.
Jesus, it had been a hell of a few days. One shit-storm after another, really. She'd gone from having to force her way into Etienne's chateau and pissing him off by trying to whisk away his lover, to getting into a massive, bloody battle with a band of shifter assassins.
And that wasn't even accounting for the fact that she'd essentially strapped a giant bull's eye to her back when she'd defied the Council by eventually turning Etienne's mate Taya into one of Mina's kind, a Valkyrie.
While she had saved Etienne and Taya's ass, she put hers into the fire. Because the European Council was desperate for Etienne to mate and produce a dragon shifter heir, they grudgingly accepted Taya now that she was a shifter.
But they were furious that their agent, Mina, had broken their laws to accomplish it.
She wasn't given to sentiment, but the dragon was the closest thing she had to a brother. It tore her heart to shreds to see his pain at the real possibility, hell, near certainty, of losing Taya. When she saw the haunted look in his eyes she knew that the loss of his recently found mate would result in one less dragon shifter in the world. So she'd done what she had to do.
She'd more than earned a few drinks.
"One shot of tequila for the lady." The sandy-haired bartender gave her a shy smile as he set the golden liquid in front of her.
She tossed it back with zero fanfare and relished the burn as it slid down her throat. A drop escaped her lips, trickling from the corner of her mouth, and she caught it with the tip of her tongue.
The poor boy's throat worked soundlessly as he watched, and Mina barely held back a weary groan. Better nip this in the bud and set him straight before he spontaneously combusted. Then she could get back to what she'd come here to do.
Drink.
She leaned on the bar and crooked her finger at him until he dipped his head low enough for his eyes to come level to the swell of her cleavage. She pulled his chin up with two fingers until his gaze locked with hers.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Lance." His voice cracked as he spoke and then cleared his throat before repeating it again with double the bass.
"Look, Lance. I know that not a lot of women come in here. In fact, there probably aren't even a lot of women in this town. Especially ones who dress like me. But if I let you take me home, I'd break you in half. Trust me. You don't want any part of this."
His kind, hazel eyes went wide and his cheeks flamed crimson. He moved to draw back but she laid a staying hand on his forearm.
"That said, I've got a lot of cash in my pocket and I plan on spending it, so what we can do tonight is be friends. You keep filling up that glass, I'll keep tipping you, and you'll have a fat wad of green yourself when you leave tonight. More than enough to take some pretty girl on a nice date. Do we have a deal?"
The flush in his cheeks subsided and he nodded, his aura going from a riot of confused colors to a pleasant yellow as he poured her another shot.
Excellent outcome.
Now everyone who mattered was on board with plan "Get Mina Drunk, ASAP".
Huzzah.
She held up her glass in salute to him and took the n
ext shot down like a champ. Twenty or thirty more of those, they'd be in business.
The shifter metabolism was a blessing and a curse, but never more the latter when a girl just needed to get her drink on. And man, did she ever.
She set the glass down and realized her hand had started to tremble.
Woman up, Mina, she scolded herself sternly. She'd made the choice to help Taya and Etienne, knowing the potential consequences. There was no point in lamenting now. She had to make the best of the situation and figure out where to go from here.
It went against the grain to stay put when she knew she was being hunted, but the best thing about Montana was the massive amount of land and open space. Could be a great place to get lost for a while. Plus, the Council would expect her to leave. They'd probably start their search in bordering states and then spread out--hell, they were probably already doing that--but if her assessment were correct, it would be days before they sent anyone back here to Montana.
At least, she hoped that was how it played out. Because as it stood, she was too emotionally drained and physically exhausted to figure out another plan right now.
She let out a short, bitter laugh.
Plan.
Now there was a novel idea. Had she had even a kernel of one when she'd followed Taya outside the night before, she wouldn't be on the Council's Most Wanted list right now.
You turned a human woman into a shifter.
A woman you've known for less than a week now. And for what?
The answer to that came, swift and sure.
True love. True fucking love.
Her childhood friend had found it, and Taya Briarcroft had returned it to him wholeheartedly. The thought of them losing something so precious and rare because of bullshit red tape and bureaucracy had made her physically ill. So she'd turned the female into a Valkyrie.
And in doing so, she'd effectively crowned herself the Queen of Clusterfuck.
The Countess of Catastrophe.
The Duchess of Disaster.
The Princess of P--
A clink of glass against glass had her looking up to see Lance keeping his end of the bargain, topping off her drink again without being asked.
Perfect.
So she'd slam down another couple dozen of these, walk back to her motel room across the street and possibly even pass out for a few blissful hours. Then she'd get serious and figure her way out of this mess, just like she always did. This certainly wasn't the first time she'd bucked authority, and she'd make damned sure it wouldn't be the last.
She straightened the brim of the black baseball cap she'd donned in a half-hearted attempt to blend in and reached for her drink.
"Mind if I join you?" a loud, cocky voice sounded over her shoulder.
She wasn't a bit surprised when the stranger didn't wait for her answer, instead pulling back the barstool beside her and taking a seat.
She bit back her irritation and offered him a clipped nod before tossing back her shot.
"Nice. I love to see a little lady who can handle her liquor. Happy to get you another, if you're game," he said with a chuckle and stuck out a hand. "Chuck Peters. I own the mill down the road."
She guessed by the way he puffed up his already puffy chest when he said it that owning the mill down the road was something people around these parts were impressed with.
Maybe if she cranked her Bitch-o-Matic Five Thousand up to eleven, he'd leave this "little lady" alone.
"Well, congratulations. I'm sure the cobbler, the tanner, and the blacksmith are green with envy over your achievements."
To his credit, his ruddy face cracked with a wide smile.
"Ah, funny too. I love a woman with a smart mouth."
Interesting. Because, judging by where his gaze had been since she'd turned to face him, she'd have pegged him as more of a tits guy.
Lance silently poured her another, and she sent him a wink in thanks.
"Chuck, was it?" she asked as she turned to face the newcomer again.
"Yep."
"I'm here to get drunk, Chuck. If you want to donate to the cause and buy me a drink, great." She jerked a thumb toward the bartender. "Make sure you tip Lance here when you do because he's saving up for a splashy date with a special someone. But if you're hoping you're going to get me drunk enough that I'll leave here with you tonight and do something reckless?" She snicked her tongue and shook her head. "You're wasting your time. When I do something reckless, I do it way bigger than that."
Like turning a woman into a shifter, thereby bringing down the wrath of dozens of real-life monsters that would make Chuck here wish he'd never left the mill.
But Chuck just smiled again. When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut in.
"Let me guess. You love a seriously reckless woman?"
His patented chuckle became a genuine guffaw this time, and she found herself smiling back grudgingly.
"Actually, I do," he admitted with a rueful grimace. "Just ask all four of my ex-wives. Soon to be five, according to the papers I was served at lunchtime."
Mina, hit by the sudden admission, looked him in the eyes. Big mistake. Never look them in the eyes. They just weren't the windows to the soul, they were the god damned highway to it. It was the second-long crack in that cheery, blowhard veneer...an instant of sad vulnerability that got her.
Her empathic senses connected then roiled with his churning emotions. Sadness, vulnerability, and abandonment rolled off him in waves, and they twisted her gut.
His actions weren't those of a predatory hunter looking for sex. They were the actions of a man desperate for a kind word and to prove he wasn't the loser his exes had convinced him he was.
Lord, she was a sucker. Empathy was the curse of her kind, and no matter how much armor she donned, the feelings of others never failed to penetrate it. Now she was stuck with Sad-sack Chuck and Hormone Lance, for better or worse.
She downed the shot before her and slid the empty glass toward Lance. "I'll take one on Chuck. If he'll have one too."
Chuck brightened visibly and she braced herself for a long night.
An hour and ten shots later, though, she was feeling much more philosophical about the whole thing.
In fact, she was feeling goooood.
Muddy Waters wailed from the jukebox about love and losing and she swayed in her seat, a pleasant hum running through her body as the last of the tension drained out of her.
"The thing about the blues is it gets you right here." She thumped on her chest with her fist and then leaned in to do the same to Chuck. He wasn't as stable as he looked, though, and listed to the side from the blow, nearly toppling in his seat before she grabbed him by the lapel at the last second.
"Almost lost you there, buddy," she murmured as she righted him on his stool. She took a quick glance around to see if anyone had taken note of her unnatural speed and then let out a hiccup-laugh.
No one had seen anything, because the bar was still empty save the three of them. She was safe.
For now.
The ping of fear that came with the thought left just as quickly, thanks to Jose Cuervo, bless his golden-colored heart.
"I agree with you totally," Chuck murmured, his voice slurred. "This was when music was music." He grabbed hold of her arm and used it to play an air guitar solo as Lance doubled over with laughter behind the bar.
Better. This was better. Her problems seemed fuzzy and vague, and she wasn't alone.
Maybe that was the real reason she'd come here tonight. She could've gone to her motel and gotten drunk all by herself. But as much as she tried to tell herself otherwise?
God, was she tired of being alone.
A cool draft washed over her and the sound of the bar door closing had her freezing in place. Heavy footfalls thudded across the wooden floor but she kept her gaze trained on Lance.
The kid's body language spoke of comfort and ease, which in turn reassured her.
He recognized the newcomer.
"Hey, Dan," Lance said, eyes locked on a spot over her shoulder as he swiped a white towel at some crumbs on the bar.
Mina glanced in the mirror behind him to see the vague outline of a massive wall of a man standing a few feet away from her, hands on hips.
"Everyone doing all right here?" he asked in a low baritone.
Chuck, who'd been oblivious to his arrival before then, dropped her guitar arm and wheeled around, letting out a groan.
"Aw, Christ, McCafferty. What do you want?"
"What I want is to make sure there's no trouble brewing here tonight. Any trouble brewing tonight, Chuck?"
Maybe it was all the drinks, but something about that slow, thoughtful drawl and that deep, husky voice sent a wave of heat through her, warming her from head to toe, which irritated her to no end. He was messing with her new friend, Sad-sack Chuck The Miller, and she wasn't about to stand for it.
She was nothing if not loyal.
"There's no trouble," she assured him as she turned in her chair to lock eyes with the newcomer. It was a bad move. He looked even better than he sounded, and that was saying something.
Not that he was pretty. His face had too many hard planes and sharp edges for that, and its fair share of scars. A white line bisected one dark brow, another right across his cheekbone and a third from his chin up to his bottom lip. She closed one eye and focused on that lip. It was a good one. Full but firm. The kind that made you want to suck and bite and trace with the tip of one finger.
Pretty?
No.
But he was a real panty-melter.
She let out a low hiss and shook her head to clear it. She wasn't here to find a Montana man to play with. She was here to drink herself into oblivion. And she was halfway there if only this wannabe Boy Scout would let her get back to it.
"I appreciate the concern, stranger, but I can handle myself, thanks. Chuck is my friend. Me, him and Lance go way back," she lied smoothly. Didn't matter if he believed her, so long as he went away.
