by Angel Lawson
Or maybe, the real question is…why don’t I believe in us?
I leap off the bed and run to the door, swinging it open. Marshal is at the end of the narrow corridor, head bent from the low ceiling. The boat lists to the side and I rest my hands against the walls to keep myself upright. “Wait!”
He turns, stone-faced, but his eyebrows shoot up as his gaze rakes over my body. He swallows thickly. I look down and see that I’m wearing a flimsy silk and lace top with matching shorts—something I assume was under that ridiculous dress.
I did not come out here to get sidetracked. I came out here to…
“I want it,” I say.
“Want what, exactly?”
Oh, he’s not going to make this easy on me.
“You. I want you to be part of this. To be part of me.”
My ring burns against my skin, happy that I’m relenting. Marshal crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “How do I know you don’t just want to use me for my body.”
I laugh. And curse. Because what the hell?
But what he said before must be true, that he’ll take whatever I will give him, because he walks back toward me. “Do you mean it?”
“I do.”
“And we can stop fighting?”
“I doubt it,” I confess, “that seems to be built into our DNA.”
“I’m not sure I know what that is, but if you mean it’s just our natural, primal instincts, I agree.” He runs his nose along my neck, inhaling my scent. It’s a weird thing he does, a disturbingly sexy thing. “I smell them—Armin and Rupert, mixed with the sulfur and brimstone of this gods-forsaken place. They’re fully bound to you now.”
My skin prickles in anticipation and my heart pounds with his touch.
“But you’re right, the loss of Miya is severe.” He kisses my neck, then my jaw, and covers my mouth with his as he walks me backwards into the tiny cabin, slamming the door behind us. “It’s weakened your power.”
“You can smell all that?”
“How do you think I found you down the alley back in the fourth circle?”
“You smelled me.”
He nods, pulling at the lacy straps of my top and kissing my shoulders. “You have a distinct and specific scent, Valkyrie. Zero fear. All power. With a delicious blast of sex.” I laugh, because he’s ridiculous and I have no idea if he’s telling the truth or not. “Oh, and a hint of vanilla.”
“What do we do?” I ask as my knees hit the edge of the bed. “How do we go forward a warrior down?”
“You don’t think I’m man enough to make up for Miya?” He pulls off his shirt and drops his trousers, revealing his very aroused and ready length. I reach out and stroke the velvet tip, making him shudder. Every ounce of bravado melts away.
“I don’t,” I tell him, running my finger down his chest. “Miya was very powerful in his own right. Strong and commanding.”
His eyebrow lifts. “And what about me?”
“You? You’re dirty. Ruthless. Ridiculous. You’re the one that makes me feel when I’m lost. You’re the one that pushes me harder than I think I can go. You were the first, Marshal, the one that drew me out when no one else could.” He peels off my top and slides off the bottoms, nudging me back on the bed. I wait for the switch to flip, for him to lose control—to consume me—but he seems intent on going slow, which is more disarming than I ever would have imagined. “Maybe you and I have been bound together a lot longer than I realized.”
Lightning flashes outside the small circular window, brightening his face as I cup his face and he kisses me. Thunder follows, rolling across the sky as he crawls over my body so that I’m beneath him, arching my back to get closer. His hand slides down my side, over my hip, caressing a finger down my inner thigh. I run my hands over his sculpted muscle, feeling the quiver of desire. With his tongue hot against my breast, Marshal brushes my core with his knuckle, eliciting a groan from deep in my chest. He smiles down at me, wicked and amused.
“What?” I breathe, wondering what’s entertaining him so much.
“I knew I’d get you to admit that you wanted me.”
His arrogance, along with the sway of the boat, spurs me into action, using my strength and his distraction to flip him on his back giving me the upper advantage. He doesn’t miss a beat, reaching for my breast, running his thumb over my peaked nipple, grinning wildly. I rake my nails down his chest and he growls in delight. I lick my way down his body, teeth grazing his belly and hips. I stroke the fine hair leading downward and he squirms against me; hot, hard, and ready.
I need Marshal, I want him, but he’s right. I had to admit that he’s a part of this. I have to claim him, not the other way around. Lifting up, I take him in whole, in one quick plunge. He pushes up and wraps his arms around me, kissing me as he stretches my insides, filling me with his size. I roll my hips, and he pulls me to him, hands trailing down my back. It’s intimate, our faces inches apart, our breath mingling as we move.
The storm outside grows, the swells of water crashing against the side of the ship. Rain pounds overhead and thunder and lightning split the sky as we make love, actual love, for the very first time.
There’s a point where it’s too much, it’s all too much, and his movements, they brings me over the edge. My body trembles, and I drop my mouth to his shoulder, muffling my groan against his skin. Marshal holds me against him and rolls us back over, driving himself deep inside. It’s then that I hear the words tumbling from his lips, the chant of my name, the profession of his devotion, the final, guttural swearing to protect me until his last breath.
It’s then that he thrusts a final time and warmth spreads through my body, pulsing in my veins and stretching across my limbs. The boat continues to rock in the storm, but Marshal has stilled over me, mouth inches from mine, eyes connected. We’d had sex before, but this was something different. A release—a melding. We both knew it.
Another bolt of lightning zings past, making my hair stand on end. We look out the small window out at the raging storm outside.
“So I guess that thunder and lightning wasn’t the gods celebrating our union,” he says reaching for his clothes.
“No. I don’t think so.”
He tosses me a satchel, inside are my leathers. “You had these the whole time?” I glance down at the silky undergarments on the floor. “Where did those come from.”
He grins. “I may have taken a few liberties with your clothing while you were asleep.”
“Pervert!” I sling the bag at him, but he catches it in one hand, bending to kiss me hard on the mouth.
“Yeah, but I’m your pervert.” He tugs on his pants, tying them at the waist. The storm continues to rage, growing more intense by the second. “Get dressed, Valkyrie, something tells me we’re about to enter another circle.”
I peer out the window trying to see anything in the pounding rain. There’s only one Immortal left, only one ring to pass out. The God of Death is out there somewhere in that violent, raging storm.
And I’m going to have to figure out how to get him back.
26
Luke
Footprints aren’t the only clue Hildi left behind. The strong scent of smoke wafts down the river, alerting our group to a problem before the town is visible. When we finally do catch sight of a few buildings, it’s clear they’re still smoldering. Rupert grimaces and his hand lands on his stomach, a signal I’ve learned means he can sense something.
“What?” I ask, wishing for a crystal ball right now. Ever since we discovered Hildi gone at the safe house, I’ve felt both lost and frantic.
“She’s not here,” he bends and touches the ground, “she was, and I have little doubt whatever destruction took place here had something to do with her, but she’s gone.”
“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Elizabeth asks. “Can you tell?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sensing that—not specifically. If I had to guess I’d say she came through, got what she was l
ooking for, and moved on.”
“Agis?” Elizabeth asks.
I shake my head. “Circle four is greed. That doesn’t seem like Agis’ thing.”
Armin shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Maybe Dylan or one of the other Guardians foresaw that she wouldn’t be here. Maybe that’s why he told us, specifically, to find a boat to the River Styx.”
I have no problem skipping the next circle—which I assume is what really is in the town ahead. Greed brings out the worst in people. Maybe even more than gluttony and lust. Gods, they’re all bad. Once we get through five, we’ll be nearly finished—except for facing my father that is.
I have no doubt number five is going to be a challenge.
I look over Elizabeth’s head and nod toward the water. “There’s got to be a port here and someone willing to carry us to our destination.”
“To the River Styx,” Rupert says, “and hopefully to Hildi.”
“Yes,” I reply, adding, “and to the fifth circle.”
“Which is?” Armin asks, face pinched.
“Anger. It’s a violent place, filled with rage and turmoil.”
He and Rupert share a look, and the prince says, “Ah, and that’s where we’ll find Agis. We’re all warriors, but Agis—”
“Is always looking for a fight,” Rupert concludes. “He is the God of Death, after all.”
They speak so casually—so easily about him and his flaws. I suppose that’s what happens when you spend an eternity enslaved and fighting battles for the God of War.
“I’m sure my father will be happy to tug on any unfinished business Agis has—any losses he’s never gotten over.”
Again, the two Immortals share a look and grimace.
“What?” I ask.
“Agis’ entire life is bound in death, anger, and regret. Something changed in him when he met Hildi—he was able to look outside that pain and toward a different kind of future,” Armin replies. “He had someone to look after—someone to protect—even if he went about it in his own, complicated way.”
“At least,” Rupert says, “until she rejected him and sent him away.”
What they’re saying slowly dawns on me. “So his biggest regret is losing Hildi, and she’s going to get to him before we do.”
Armin nods, his jaw tight with tension. “Yes.”
After that, none of us speak, we all just move, our destination finally clear. We aren’t just looking for a boat or the River Styx, we’re looking to save Agis and whatever destruction my father is hell bent on raining down.
27
Hildi
The boat heaves in the choppy, stormy waters. Waves pound over the deck. As Marshal and I emerge from our room, it becomes obvious there is no turning back. It was like a magnetic force swirled on the riverbed, drawing us closer and closer into the storm. It’s obvious from the electricity in the air, and the slow shift of reality, that we’re in the fifth circle, which means that Agis is somewhere either in this storm or out there causing it.
“I don’t like this,” Marshal says, grimacing after another slash of lightning cracks through the dark sky. “How do we even find him in a monsoon like this?”
The boat continues to draw closer to the center of the storm and there are a few moments where I’m not sure the boat we’re traveling on is going to make it. The hull whines and the wooden boards creek. The sail shreds to tatters, the wind sharp enough to cut like talons. Marshal and I are thrown back and forth, his strong arms wrapped around me, determined to keep me close. Never have I been so afraid. Not back when I fought for Odin. Not in the battle with the Morrigan. Not in the arena as I started to bleed to death. The energy of the storm is wild, kinetic. My brain feels like it might explode. I cling to Marshal, wind and rain lashing against my face. Wondering if this is how it ends. Is this how we die?
Despite my fears and the turbulence, the vessel continues forward, gliding with a singular path. There’s no escaping this circle and just when I think Lucifer and the gods plan on us drowning at sea, the oddest, most disturbing thing happens.
We sail into the eye of the storm. One minute we’re under the full assault of wind and rain, the next gliding through calm, clear skies. A ring of gray, furious clouds surround us, with a blinding blue sky above. The boat actually seems to stop, as through an anchor has been dropped. It only takes a moment to realize that despite the weather, we’re not in a land of peace.
We’re in a literal circle—a ring, surrounded by the storm. In the center is a small island made of pale sand. The only thing on it is a tower—similar to a lighthouse; tall with a balcony circling the top. A shadow passes over the tower, a shadow created by viscious black wings. They’re attached to a man caught in the throes of battle, a massive sword in his deadly hands.
My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the cut, bulging muscles of my winged lover soaring through the sky. Beneath him is an army of demons crawling from a gaping hole in the water’s surface, each one uglier and deadlier-looking than the last. Agis fights the swarm, like a mortal swatting at flies. At first, I’m unsure what he’s doing, but it becomes clear that he’s protecting the tower from the water demons. What’s so important to him that he’s become a mad fury of cutting, slicing, beheading and gutting?
Once they’re dead, murky, dark blood colors the water and by an invisible force, maybe the one that pulled our boat into the eye, drag the dead back from where they came. Despite his victories, Agis rages; his howls piercing my soul, never wavering, just resuming his bitter fight.
I stand on the deck where I can feel him, the cord between us wound round and round. I know that Agis doesn’t need a ring to feel bound to me. I realize now that’s not what they’re for. They do help keep the immortals grounded to reality, breaking the spell of the circles. The ring on my finger—one I’ve always worn, is how I’ve stayed focused and alert this whole time. It’s how the Immortals, once they wear them, are immune to the dangerous fantasies of this realm.
Agis isn’t wearing a ring and it’s clear he’s fully lost to Lucifer’s tricks.
“How do we get to him?” I ask. Marshal’s fingers link with mine. “None of you recognized me when I entered the circles and with that level of rage, I’m pretty sure I’ll be dead before I can even get the ring out.”
Marshal’s jaw tics. “I could try to distract him.”
“Did you suddenly sprout wings?” As if to make a point, Agis soars through the air, swooping down to pull a demon out of the water. Even from this distance I hear the snap of his victim’s spine. In the next instant, he’s gutted another, intestines slipping into the water. He may be the physical incarnation of a hurricane. “No offense to your fighting skills, but I’m pretty sure he’d slaughter you first.”
Marshal sighs, the bravado he constantly wears slipping from his face. “We’re out-classed, Hildi. On a good day, Agis overpowers us, but here? I don’t know what we can do.”
If I hadn’t been looking over his shoulder at that very instant, I wouldn’t have had an answer. But I am, and I watch as a second boat is pulled into the eye, and I smile when I spot the passengers, wet and battered, emerging onto the deck.
My stomach twists, and I squeeze his hand.
“I think our odds just got a whole lot better.”
The other boat is half the size of ours, and it looks like it sustained damage in the storm, but just seeing my friends, lovers, and allies alive makes my heart swell.
Armin doesn’t wait for the board that is placed between the two ships to get secured, he takes a flying leap, landing on the deck and pulling me into a massive, bone-crushing hug.
“We agreed—no leaving.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell, him, nuzzling my face in his neck. “I had to work some things out—alone.”
“Or work someone out,” Elizabeth says, crossing over with dainty footsteps. She smiles at Marshal and he grins in return. I probably should keep those two apart.
“How did you find us?” Marshal a
sks.
Rupert tosses him the book, then scoops me into his arms. “Dylan sent us a message in the book. Luckily, you left that behind. It also didn’t hurt that Hildi left enough of a trail for us to follow.”
I frown. “What kind of tracks?”
“The burning village was a pretty big ‘Hildi has been here’ signal,” Luke says, walking up and not quite looking at me. Is he mad? Did I do something to piss him off?
“You do have a way of leaving destruction in your wake,” Rupert says, kissing me under the ear. “Especially when you’re with Marshal.”
A roar sounds from where Agis continues to fight, his body never seeming to tire. Armin swallows and nods at him. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Welcome to the fifth circle,” I say. “Anger, rage, violence. Right here on the Devil’s playground, the River Styx. Seems fitting for the God of Death, don’t you think?”
Agis is still going strong, his rage unrelenting. I have to assume that under all the anger he’s hurting—caught in this cycle of desperation. I know that deep down, Agis can be gentle. He revealed that side to me when he came to me as my winged lover. But now…
“I don’t know how to get to him,” I say.
“Maybe it’s like Armin in the arena,” Marshal replies. “We go in, get the ring on his finger, and snap him out of it.”
Rupert gazes out at the battle in the center of the eye. “That seems easier said than done.”
“There’s six of us,” Marshal says, ever confident. “And we have a sure-fire weapon—his mate.”
Rupert raises his eyebrow, like he’s considering the idea, while Armin crosses his massive arms over his chest and says, “I don’t like it.”
“It may be our only choice,” Rupert says. “Maybe she can distract him long enough to get the ring on his finger.”
“So what? You just want to use me as bait or something?”
“You said it, not us,” Marshal says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “We’ll go in the other boat and get close enough to him to make our attack.”
