Rogue Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Seven)

by Brenda Trim

  “It’s over now, I’m here, dulzura. I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

  “For once, I’m grateful for your possessive nature. If you hadn’t come back…. I wasn’t sure how I was getting out of this one. I was so engrossed in the file I found that I never even heard them come in. Thank you,” she murmured, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

  He brushed loose strands of hair away from her face, looking at her injuries. Nothing serious. She would heal within the hour, but he hated seeing even a tiny scratch on her beautiful face. Leaning in, he lightly kissed her mouth.

  When she parted her lips, his tongue delved inside, tangling with hers. He pulled her even closer, mashing their bodies together as his hands roamed to her backside and squeezed her firm ass. He wanted nothing more than to take her on the office floor, but they needed to get moving before Von arrived.

  Reluctantly pulling away, Santi met glowing green eyes and smiled. It felt good knowing she wanted him just as much. “Let’s get out of here. I have somewhere I want to take you,” he said, helping her to her feet.

  “What do we do with these two?” she asked, looking down at the dead males.

  “Let Von worry about this mess. They’re his problem. He won’t suspect you since you use your… what is that called anyway?”

  Her smile lit up the room and calmed his racing heart. “It’s called a stalvajer. It’s made of a god-forged metal and can slice through anything, even concrete. They had me tied to the chair before I could release it. I’ve never failed to call it to action in time.” He sensed her terror and anger over being so helpless.

  “I have no doubt that you would have taken care of these goons. Although I’m glad I could show my mate my outstanding prowess.” He chuckled at her eye roll and grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait, first I want you to see this file I found. It might be nothing, but Von is depositing a lot of money into this restaurant. Maybe it’s a link to the maker of Angel’s Kiss,” she informed, handing Santi the folder.

  He opened it and scanned the material. She was right. It was a shitload of money. He knew exactly where the restaurant was located, had even had lunch there a time or two with Orlando when they were out on cases.

  “I say we definitely check it out, but first I need you to come with me. I’ll follow you to your house so we can leave your car there and then you can ride with me,” he suggested. She put the folder back in the filing cabinet then he grabbed her hand, twining their fingers together.

  She didn’t pull away which Santi took as another good sign. Baby steps, he thought, hoping she was slowly beginning to trust him. He just prayed that their next stop wasn’t going to bite him in the ass and send her running in the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nerves fluttered in Tori’s belly and she wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. Shit, she was a young adult again going on her first date. Worse, she was certain she looked a hot mess. Was her hair a rat’s nest after that fight? Resisting the urge to smooth it, she clasped her hands in her lap as she sat beside him in his vehicle.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Breath caught in her throat at the same time it went dry over the smile he threw her way. “It’s a surprise, dulzura. Surely you’re familiar with the concept.” His teasing was almost as devastating as his smile. Damn her hormones. She wanted to hate him for what he’d done to her brother, yet every time she turned around he did something endearing.

  Rolling her eyes, she hated that she couldn’t hide her arousal, which perfumed the air. Ignoring the way his nostrils flared, she looked out the window to see that he was turning into the Arboretum. Excitement bubbled as she wondered where in the ginormous park he was taking her.

  As he turned down several streets, she saw the telltale signs they were heading to the Japanese Gardens. She recalled the media in the late 1950s spouting how Seattle was on the cutting edge, being the first public construction of a Japanese-style garden on the Pacific Coast after the war.

  Tori didn’t spend much time around humans and rarely ever bothered with their issues, but there had been several times when racial and political tensions made that impossible, even for supernaturals that held themselves apart, so developing this park had been a big deal.

  Leaning forward eagerly, she saw that the area was just starting to bloom again. Supernatural vision allowed her to see even the minute details in the darkness. Japanese maples, cherry blossoms, and numerous other native plants dotted the area. Despite not being in full bloom, the area was stunning.

  “What are we doing here? Isn’t it closed?” she asked. What the hell was the male up to?

  Parking on a one-way street, she gazed back in alarm. No one was behind them at the moment. “Trust me,” he murmured evasively.

  “That’s a work in progress. You didn’t start off on the best foot,” she replied dryly.

  Picking up her hand, he kissed the back of it while cradling it in his warm grasp. “Duly noted,” he replied as he let go of her hand and climbed out of the car.

  Scrambling to follow him, she slammed her door as he reached her side. A hot band wrapped around her waist as he guided her down the road to the main entrance.

  “I told you it was closed. This was fun. Let’s go.”

  Turning to head back to the car, he wrapped his arm tighter, refusing to let her budge. “Not yet. Come on.”

  “I am not climbing the fence, Santi. I may be capable of stealth as an assassin, but I have no desire to use those skills because you want to visit a garden in the middle of the night,” she commented as she smiled tightly.

  He tossed back his head, his deep laughter echoing around the area and causing her heart to trip and desire to spike. “I don’t make a habit of breaking and entering on dates.”

  “So this is a date?” she asked.

  He knocked on the wooden gate, the mischief behind his eyes telling her she was in for an adventurous evening. Her response was cut off when the gate creaked open, and a tall, slim human greeted them.

  “Good evening, Mr. Reyes. Right on time. Everything is set up as requested. Do you need a map?” the male asked, handing him a rusty lantern that reminded her of the traditional Japanese pagoda.

  “Thank you, Ben. I know the way,” Santi responded. She relaxed at his side, relieved that he had obviously made arrangements of some kind to be in the area.

  Hand at her back, Santi led her into the lush garden. The area was extremely well kept, making her wonder how many individuals it took to keep the weeds at bay and the grass neatly cut. Small stone pagodas and Japanese maples along with distinctive bridges permeated this area of the park.

  “Do you go to these lengths for all your dates?” Shaking her head in disgust at the biting tone of her voice, she tried to tamp down the jealousy at the mere thought of him with another female.

  “I’ve never had the desire to do such a thing with any random date, but I’ve always wanted to have a moonlit picnic and go for a swim with my female. Plus, you inspire me,” he said as he shrugged.

  Warmth spread through her as they passed a small stream that was lined with soft lights. “To throw me in that pond, no doubt,” she teased, making him laugh again.

  “Well, I do love a wet T-shirt.”

  “So, you’re a breast man then,” she observed looking down at her chest. No wonder the Goddess paired them together, she thought.

  Nodding, he murmured, “The Goddess blessed me with a bounty.”

  Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she went for distraction. “You’re what? Five hundred years old? How is it that you’ve never done something like this before?”

  They turned a corner and she gaped at the number of floating lanterns that filled the large pond. Lights twinkled everywhere she turned, in the trees and around the shrubs. In the middle of it all was a blanket with baskets, and off to the side was an easel with a blank canvas.

/>   “When you go big, you go real big,” she professed. Caught completely off guard, she didn’t know what else to say. No one had ever done anything this romantic for her. Her last boyfriend’s idea of romance was to put on porn and serve her cold pizza.

  “Aw, now you’re just being mean. I didn’t think I looked a day over three hundred,” he replied. She laughed at his stricken expression and the dramatic way he flung his free hand over his heart. Supernaturals didn’t age much past their transition, so he appeared no older than thirty. “And I’ve seen your work. This is my subtle way of saying I’d like to see this on canvas,” he said, gesturing towards the scene around them.

  Crossing to the easel, she glanced around. “I’m going to need more than a canvas to paint,” she observed.

  A small groan of appreciation escaped as he bent to pick up one of the baskets. Best ass ever. The satisfied smirk he sent her over his shoulder had her rolling her eyes.

  Holding out the open basket to her, he admitted, “I had no idea what you used or what you’d need so I asked the guy at the art store. There are brushes, oil and acrylic paints, and a palette. I got a whole set of painting knives, not knowing what you preferred.”

  Picking up a brush, she ran her fingers across the bristles, noting he had bought the best. “This is perfect, and I’m glad you picked up oils. I prefer them to acrylics. It’s what I started with all those years ago. So,” she continued, grabbing the wooden palette and a tube of white paint and squeezing some onto a corner, “have you never had a serious relationship?”

  The familiar activity and scent of the paint loosened knots she typically carried near this frustratingly sexy male. The mix of emotions he elicited was going to be the death of her.

  “Yes, but it was a long time ago and I never did anything like this for her. Like I said, I never wanted to. It probably added to the split between us, but we both knew that we weren’t Fated Mates so....” He trailed off, shrugging.

  Narrowing her eyes at him as she continued dispensing her colors, she wanted to throttle the male. “There’s more to the story. Lots of couples have fallen madly in love and not been Fated Mates. Spill it.”

  He chuckled bitterly. “I cared greatly for Maribel, but I never gave her my whole heart, and she didn’t give me hers. I met her shortly after I left home and she was a refuge I needed at the time.”

  Sadness and regret emanated from him when he spoke of leaving home, telling her that had more to do with the story than anything else. “Why did you leave home?”

  “That’s a long, sordid story that you don’t want to hear.” Setting the basket of art supplies down, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began pacing.

  “I get that you don’t want to talk about this but don’t assume I don’t want to know, because I do. Besides, my skeletons are probably bigger than yours.” Wanting to place him at ease, she went about painting the image he’d gone to such lengths to create for her.

  “White or red?” he suddenly asked. She glanced over to see he was holding two bottles of wine.

  “Red, please. For a beer guy, you sure picked some fantastic wine. Duckhorn makes a great merlot. I haven’t bought it in forever because I’ve been saving up for my studio. Have you ever been to Napa Valley?” she asked, wanting to ease the tension rolling off him.

  “No, I haven’t. I’m not much of a drinker, but I’ve seen Angus buy it before and the females seemed to love it.”

  “You should go sometime. It’s a great place to visit. Tons of vineyards, gourmet restaurants, and the scenery is breathtaking. Brittany and I have gone several times. I end up carrying her drunk ass back to our room every time,” she added as she laughed.

  His breath was hot on her neck as he stopped to watch her paint. Desire had her leaning back against his solid length. His hands landed on her hips, and he drew her closer. “I’d like to visit with you sometime. I can carry you back to our room and ravish you.”

  The image his words created was vivid and enticing. Sounded perfect to her, if she could get past what he had done to her brother. Miguel had been no saint and she knew there was more to that story, but he hadn’t deserved to be killed.

  Taking a step to resume her work, she returned to their previous topic. “Tell me about your family and why you left home. Was it to become a Dark Warrior?”

  Heat blasted her back. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No. I’ve been told I’m a bit tenacious.”

  “And, here I always thought Gerrick was tenacious with his drive to kill skirm. Boy, was I wrong,” he muttered on an exhale, his breath once again hitting her neck. She had to force herself to hide her response, not wanting to distract him. “I grew up on a farm in Mexico with my parents, two brothers, and sister. We raised cattle and sold them at auction. Our farm was in a remote area outside a major city, so were isolated from the pack.”

  Spinning around, she accidentally painted a pink stripe across his black sweater because he was so close. “You grew up a cattle farmer?” she asked, aghast at the idea. She couldn’t imagine him herding cows and shoveling shit. He was a hardened warrior with a justice complex who thought he was above the law.

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, I was raised breeding hundreds of head of cattle. It was a simple life in some respects.”

  “Is that why you left? Because it was too simple?”

  “No, it’s not. I left for far worse reasons,” he replied tightly, reaching for her rag to wipe at the stripe.

  Smiling at the way he merely spread the paint around, she set her brush and palette down and grabbed the rag from him. Uncapping the small bottle of turpentine he had in the basket, she used a corner of the rag to get some of the paint off. Realizing she was making matters worse, she stopped. “That isn’t going to come out, and now I’ve made you smell like gasoline. You’re going to have to take that shirt off.”

  “You didn’t have to douse me in smelly accelerant if you wanted me naked,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he tugged the sweater over his head.

  Shaking her head, she admired the muscled planes of his chest and asked, “What do you mean by worse reasons?”

  Running a hand over his bald scalp, he met her gaze with an unreadable expression. It was a combination of tortured, sorrowful, and angry. “I couldn’t face my siblings after I killed our father. I was a coward and didn’t want to have to answer their questions.”

  She gasped, her hand flying to her throat as his horror washed over her. “You killed your father?” Maybe he was the coldblooded murderer she’d thought months ago.

  Creating the perfect romantic evening didn’t mean he was sane. Sociopaths lulled their victims into a false sense of security all the time. She was an assassin, but she had standards.

  “I can see the disgust and judgment on your face. Before you grab your stalvajer and end me, know that my father was a bastard who deserved death. He abused my mother for centuries in the most horrific ways imaginable and got away with every second of it. No one listened to her pleas for help. Not the previous Omega and not the human police, and he ended up killing her one night.”

  “Oh Goddess, Santi.” She couldn’t imagine the horror of a small child witnessing such abuse. Watching someone terrorize and eventually kill a person they were supposed to love, cherish, and protect gave not only nightmares, but also embedded doubt and insecurity. You always questioned if you were going to be next. How did one get past that?

  “Worst part was, he lied to my siblings and said she was gored by a mad cow. I knew the truth though, I saw him when he was drunk and lost control. I swore I would make him pay for what he’d done, so at the first opportunity I wrapped my hands around his throat and choked the life from him while he was drunk, then tossed his body into the incinerator. My siblings assumed he took off to die somewhere in grief over losing our mother,” Santi spat, shaking his head.

  “They never understood how twisted he was even thou
gh they saw how he treated our mother. How could they believe he would be upset and leave? A being capable of that kind of abuse wouldn’t give a shit,” he rushed the words out as if he couldn’t stop them. He had been reluctant to share with her and now it seemed as if he wanted her to know everything.

  She placed her hand over his chest; his heart pounded beneath her palm, and the look in his eyes implored her to understand. It was impossible to see what he’d done as the vengeful male she’d painted him to be. She wasn’t convinced he was entirely innocent in what had happened to her brother, but she knew enough now to know there had to be more to the story.

  And it wasn’t surprising that he’d chosen to become a vigilante given his history. It was intolerable to him that anyone got away with committing a crime. They needed a heavy hand to keep others safe from harm. He was that hand.

  “You shielded them from the worst of who he was and spared them the trauma you lived with every day. Don’t blame them for what you did. They are making decisions and judgments without all of the information. But, don’t worry, I have no plans to release my stalvajer, and use it on you. I have no doubt in my mind that I would have done the same thing in your shoes.”

  Surprisingly gentle as he stroked her cheek, he changed the subject. “Now that you know all of my dirty secrets, tell me something about you. How did you become a Valkyrie?”

  His masculine scent wrapped around her, beckoning her closer. “I suffered a fatal wound protecting my master’s castle during the Russo-Swedish war and was plucked off the battlefield and taken to Valhalla. There, Freya brought me back to life as a Valkyrie. I have no memories of my mortal life beyond my violent death.”

  Eyes wide, his jaw dropped open. “That legend is true then? I’ve not really associated closely with Valkyrie, but always wondered which myth was true. Does lightning really give you added strength?”

  A corner of her mouth lifted at his enthusiasm. “Yes, that part is true. For me even more so because it not only feeds me but also my weapon. It’s one reason Freya sent me to Seattle. Here my stalvajer is continuously fed by lightning. I’ve never run out of juice,” she quipped.