by Susan Harris
With a snort, Erika shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’mma beat their ass anyways. Tell Viv to play track four on my cd.”
With a chuckle and his pointed ears twitching, Felix said, “That’s what I like about you, Erika. You have no fear. A demon could get very aroused watching you fight.”
“A demon better keep it in his pants because the Valkyrie isn’t interested.”
Felix’s laughter echoed throughout the hall as he strode from the door, leaving it slightly ajar, telling Erika she had five minutes. She grabbed a hair tie from the locker and yanked her hair up into a ponytail, tucking the end into a makeshift bun.
Not bothering to tape up her wrists or feet, Erika wanted to feel the pain and fucking own it. She needed to bleed, to feel every punch and every strike and burn away Loki’s rejection.
If your mother did not even want to keep you, then why should someone else?
Words are pretty when spoken by a man, but actions speak volumes.
Loki will toss you aside once he has had you, and it will leave you ruined.
“Erika, none of that is true.”
Erika spun toward him, her fists clenched. “Stay out of my head, Loki.”
Stalking from the room, she tried to reign in the sudden rage that heated her blood, surprised at the growl that rumbled in her chest. Wanting to scream in frustration and anger, Erika bounced on her feet as she came down the hall and paused at the balcony where Felix’s investors gathered.
Upon catching sight of her, fingers were pointed in her direction as they exchanged whispers and murmurs about the Valkyrie. Most people never saw one, until the hour of their death that is. And by then, the dead did not care whether you were a mystical creature from legend or an angel to take them to Heaven, they simply wanted not to be dead.
Felix stood in the middle of the octagon, lifting a hand to beckon Erika down. Her music pumped from the speakers, Trapt’s “Headstrong”, as she climbed atop the railing, a hand on her calf halting her.
“Please do not do this, Erika. I will never ask anything of you again if you stop this foolish quest to hurt yourself.”
“Fuck off, Loki.”
Erika stepped off the ledge to a collective gasp, and made her customary entrance into the ring, hitting the mat and rolling into a crouch with a snarl. Rising slowly, the crowd clapped, smiles aplenty as they sipped their champagne and waited for the blood to be spilled.
Erika’s music cut off abruptly, as Five Finger Death Punch’s “White Knuckles” began to play. Not that you could hear it over the sound of the footsteps that thundered down the corridor before bursting into the arena with a roar. An enraged troll, chained at the ankles and wrists, came toward the octagon, its eyes crazed, salvia dripping from its maw.
Trolls were not the fabled creatures who hid under bridges and tended to have a taste for goats. They were seven-feet-tall creatures with skin as green as seaweed, legs as thick as an elephants, and skin as tough as leather. This particular one had hands bigger than Erika’s body. Gigantic tusks, longer than Erika’s arms, protruded from a flat, wide nose. The troll didn’t wear a scrap of clothing, his thorny penis made Erika blink.
Swallowing hard, Erika spared a glance at Felix. “Dude, a troll?”
“I thought you liked a challenge?”
“I also like my head attached to my neck.”
Felix quirked a brow. “Want to back out?”
Erika dismissed him. “I never back down.”
The troll lumbered into the octagon, and the entire ring shook, groaning from the weight of the beast. The security who wrangled the troll, whipped away the chains, and Felix backed out of the ring.
Erika’s mind flashed back to many a time while under the age of ten, she had faced Danae in a fight that often ended with bloodshed. Neither Erika nor Danae had wanted to submit to the other. Danae’s brute strength was well matched to Erika’s speed and precision. As she had grown, Erika had more than once gotten the better of Danae because the girl had been cocky, arrogant, and under the allusion that being bigger meant she was better.
Erika had enjoyed it every single time she made Danae bleed.
“Valkyrie.” Felix’s voice dragged her back to the present. “Catch.”
Erika’s short blades sailed through the air, and she caught them easily. As soon as her fingers wrapped around the hilt, energy sang in her veins. She might be good with a fist or kick, but with a blade in her hands, Erika was deadly.
“Let’s go to war!” yelled Felix, and the troll took that as go time. As the troll charged her, Erika flashed behind him and grinned. This expedition was all about showcasing the fights and what went down, so Erika would use all the skills in her arsenal. She sensed Loki watching her and tried to block out his presence.
The troll swung his head wildly, looking for her, screaming so hard Erika had to cover her ears. He lumbered around, spotted her, and charged. Erika waited until the last possible minute, and then she ducked, swiping out with her right hand and then her left, catching the troll in the calf, making him bleed.
The troll shrieked in pain as Erika slid underneath him and backed up against the wire of the ring wall. Running forward, she used her speed to walk up the troll’s back and slice one of her blades across his neck, but by the gods, his skin was thick and hard to cut.
As Erika dropped down from his back, the troll lashed out with a meaty palm and smacked her right in the ribs, sending her flying against the mesh wire. She heard the crack as she broke a rib or two. Lungs inhaling hard to compensate for the pain, they burned as she got to her feet, and the troll backhanded her as she tried to get her balance.
The sword in her left hand flew out of her grasp when he grabbed hold of her left arm and shattered the bones from wrist to shoulder with once clench. Erika bit her lip to stop from crying out, staggering back with her left arm dangling at her side. Her shoulder was dislocated, and Erika tried to pop it back into place. The troll came at her again and she thought she was going to die, just like Loki predicated.
A haze of white hot fury sparked in her veins, and she went on a rampage, slicing and lashing out at the troll as he tried to reach her again. Erika ducked and dived, ignoring the agony that burned in her arm. The troll lifted his leg and Erika dodged, but not before the troll stepped on her foot, crushing the bones in her right leg, leaving her unbalanced.
Her ass hit the ring and she scrambled back so that her back was to the wire. Twirling her wrist, Erika flung the blade in her right hand and found her mark, the centre of the troll’s forehead, the softest place on its body. The blade went straight through and penetrated the brain, killing him.
He crashed to the ground, falling backward and taking most of the ring with him. The structure collapsed around Erika, and she was jerked along with the ring, her body screaming in pain.
Her vision swam, nausea swirling in her stomach. She heard Felix call her name, heard their footsteps as they tried to get to her, knowing by the time they got to her, by the time her Valkyrie blood kicked in and started to heal the damage, they would all be too late.
Loki’s aura engulfed her as something warm trickled from her mouth. She heard Felix scream at Loki, who simply ignored the demon as he carefully scooped her into his arms. She could not understand what Loki was saying, and she lifted a hand to pat his cheek.
Then, darkness became a welcome friend.
Ricky
Oh, he was jonesing. Jonesing bad, those two small pills Ricky had left were burning a hole in his pocket. He hadn’t taken a single pill, not even a goddamn painkiller, since Zach had turned up on his doorstep. Ricky’s sole focus had been on his son and only his son.
Like little lashes of fire against his skin the powder keg of magic that coiled inside his veins began to lick out. Clenching his fists to stop the tremble in his hands, Ricky leaned against the cold of the wall and watched his son sleeping on his bed.
Having exhausted himself playing with the team, Zach had fallen asleep in Caitlyn�
�s arms and the vampire had carried him down to the underground sleeping area, sadness in those eerie gunmetal eyes of hers. Ricky, loathe to leave his son, had left the team to chase after Kenzie.
Now, as he sank down to the ground, knees bent so that his elbows rested on their edges, the silence frayed his nerves. Doubt plagued his mind, his eyes never wandering from Zach as he tried to figure out how in the hell he was going to parent the kid. It wasn’t like Ricky himself was the epitome of responsibility. He tended to live his life on the fringe, and he had no idea how to look after himself, much less a child.
As Ricky scrubbed a hand down his face, sweat drenching the back of his neck and seeping into his hair, he cast his mind back to a time where he was the kind of person who could have raised a child, who had a woman he thought loved him, and he loved in return. Ricky had his whole future planned out, until Sadie had trampled on his heart. The night he proposed had been one of the best nights of his life.
Ricky leaned in the bedroom doorway, his eyes fixed on the woman who had just agreed to be his wife as she lay on her stomach, hand outstretched to admire the ring on her left hand, the sheets covering her from the waist down. It was a small ring, but Ricky did not make much on a young cop’s salary and it had taken him twelve months to save up for the modest diamond. He’d known from the very first kiss that he wanted to marry Sadie.
With a smile tilting up the curve of her lips, Sadie cast a glance over her shoulder, the long tresses of her rich, dark hair tumbling off her neck with the movement. She looked at him with such love, it made his heart skip a beat.
“What are you looking at?” she asked him.
“My beautiful fiancée, that’s who.”
She shook her head as he strode into their bedroom and threw himself down on the bed beside her, lying on his stomach as well. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, a silent thrill inside him as she shivered under his touch. He fucking loved that she still reacted to him like this. He hoped that she never stopped reacting that way.
Sadie ran her thumb over the small cut stone, and he suddenly felt self-conscious as he took hold of her hand and said, “I know it’s not the biggest, but if you want to change…“
She lifted his knuckles to her lips. “Stop, I adore it. I was never one for statement jewellery. This is perfect. Stop stressing.”
Ricky feathered kisses down her shoulder. With a sly smile on his lips, he glanced into the eyes of his future wife. “Fionn is going to have kittens when he finds out you said yes. I was told under no circumstances was the princess of the pride to marry a warlock.”
Shaking her head, she said, “You’re enjoying that far too much. Fionn will get over it once he becomes an uncle.”
The image of Sadie, belly rounded and carrying his child, popped into his mind and revved his engine. Nuzzling her neck, letting his hands wander down her bare spine, he grinned and asked, “So how many little minions are we going to have? I think I’m going to enjoy trying to get you pregnant.”
She flipped over onto her back, giving him better access to her body as she linked her arms around his neck and hooked a leg around the back of his thigh.
“I don’t care how many cubs we have, as long as they are happy, healthy, and loved.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Our kids will never worry about being loved. No matter what, they will always feel that they are loved.”
They made love, quickly and quietly, the only sound their panting and murmurings of love and adoration. When they were sated, they lay in each other’s arms, discussing the future and what it might hold.
“Our kids will have normal names,” he told her. “They don’t need to be labelled with some weird ass name that gets them beat up in school.”
“I take it Apple and King are out of the question.” Sadie joked, her chuckle as much as a caress as her touch.
“Hell no!” he snorted. “Our boys will have normal names, like Zach, Matthew, or Daniel. For girls, I like Izzy, Zoe, or Caitlyn.”
“No matter what they are called, they will be loved. You’ll make such a good dad.”
Ricky kissed her senseless, eager to start this stage in his life, and be a better man than his da expected him to become. With Sadie, he would have the family life he never had as a boy, raising his children with love.
“Hey.”
Derek’s whisper broke Ricky free of his memories, and he glanced up at his best friend. Getting up from the ground, he pulled the door of his bedroom closed, leaving it slightly ajar so he’d be aware if Zach woke and was scared.
Reaching for the coffee pot, Ricky’s hands shook as he tried to pour himself a cup, all the while Derek studied him like he did any UNSUB who sat in an interrogation. Ricky inclined the cup toward Derek, who shook his head. Setting the pot down, Ricky sipped the lukewarm liquid, trying to avoid the inevitable lecture that only Derek would give him.
Ricky hoisted himself up on the kitchen countertop, leaving his legs hanging.
Derek leaned against the wall between their two sleeping quarters. His friend waited for a few minutes before he said, “So, Sadie was pregnant.”
It was a statement rather than a question, and Ricky simply shrugged.
“He seems like a great kid.”
“In spite of me, is it?”
Derek sighed and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t get defensive on me because you are angry and confused and whatever else the hell is going on with you.”
“Oh, thank you very much, Derek. Since you ran off without even a mention of where you were going, we had to deal with being short staffed. Caitlyn and Donnie fecking take off to Paris, and then the first goddamn vampire rocked up and tried to start a war with his little Caitlyn-lookalike assassin. It was down to me and Melanie to handle an entire team’s worth of stuff.”
“But you managed.”
Anger rolled through him, like a fire raging through a forest. Ricky knew Derek hadn’t said it to anger him, but to acknowledge Ricky’s ability to handle things without him.
But Derek was wrong, terribly wrong.
Ricky had never been cut out to lead, that was Derek’s jam. Ricky knew deep down he was a good agent. Feck that, he was excellent, but Derek… Derek had that alpha wolf quality, and he probably had when he’d been human, too. Now that he was a wolf, it leaked from his pores like it needed to be known.
When Ricky didn’t answer, Derek gave an exasperated sigh, a sound Ricky had become used to since he started working with Derek. His best friend and teammate ran his fingers through his boyband perfect hair and asked, “If it had been Melanie, what would you have done?”
Ricky glanced down at his shoes. “We’ve been there, remember? I waited like a good little agent for my team to figure out where she was before I ran off half-cocked by myself to face God knows what. I went into that building with you to find her… you didn’t see me running off by myself into a slaughter house without telling anyone.”
“Point taken.”
No apologies, just a simple acknowledgement that Ricky’s thoughts were valid.
They sat there in a comfortable silence for a couple of heartbeats. Ricky felt his jaw tick as the magic inside his veins began to stir once again, this time with stronger lashes of fire against his flesh, and it took all of his stubbornness not to groan with the pain. It felt as if someone was lighting a dozen matches inside his skin and burning him from the inside out.
Ricky blew out a hiss, slid off the counter and went to the fridge that stood off the side. He took out a bottle of water and drained the whole thing before turning around to see if Derek was watching him, which of course he was.
“How bad is it?”
Ricky shrugged. “I think I could burn down the entire city of Cork and not care that my hometown was nothing more than cinder and ash, if it meant I was rid of it. I never wanted to manifest power like this. I spent my whole life avoiding it, content to use little magic to get the job done. I never wanted to be my f
ather’s son.”
“That you will never be, Ricky.” Derek affirmed. “I met your dad only a few times, mostly with you, and I disliked the way he spoke to you, not even as a son, but the way he disregarded the position you held within P.I.T. There are a lot of people who respected the hell out of you for all that you did, as a rookie and with P.I.T. If you had been my son, I would have shouted from the rafters about how capable and brave my son was.”
“I’m not brave, D. I’m simply terrified of being mediocre.”
Derek shook his head. “That you could never be. Everything you do, you excel at. Sarge may gripe and yell at you, but he’s prouder of what you’ve accomplished than you can imagine. Do you remember the first ever case we went out on for the council? Sarge was terrified that you would open your mouth and trouble would spill out…but that didn’t happen, did it?”
Ricky leaned against the fridge and closed his eyes, remembering the first time he had laid eyes on his Da in three years.
After getting a massive warning from Sarge not to open his mouth and simply observe, Ricky stood beside his partner, the moody wolf who barely even cracked a smile, and let a mask slip onto his face. His heart beat like a bass drum, the thought of coming face to face with his Da wringing a knot in his stomach.
He swallowed hard as Derek glanced down at him, concern in his eyes. “You okay?”
Ricky just nodded as he stood in the centre of the very room he’d wanted to avoid his whole life–the supernatural council’s meeting auditorium. Stepping inside had hit him like a battering ram, and his mouth ran dry. Then his father, Xavier Moore, and Chester Birmingham came out to shake hands with Sarge.
“Tom, it’s good to see you again.”
“And you, Xavier.”
Great, just great. His Da and Sarge were friends; he might as well hand in his transfer papers here and now, because his Da would totally get him fired from the team he worked his ass off to get into.
Sarge introduced them, causing a smirk to curl his Da’s lips. Ricky stood ramrod straight while Sarge roamed his eyes from Ricky to Xavier and back again.
