by Jane Cousins
“And just how do you propose we do that?” Fen scowled down at his rolled up jeans and the water momentarily obscuring his feet from view before it raced back down the beach.
“I don’t know.” Elijah sounded exasperated, perhaps watching them stomp up and down the beach, awkwardly ignoring one another, was getting on his nerves. “Hold hands or something. Laugh. Talk. Try and look like this isn’t some half assed trap, for Goddess sake!”
Fen reluctantly held out his hand. “Well?” His hackles going up as Brodie stared down at it as if it were a venomous snake. “Just hold my fucking hand.”
Brodie slapped her hand into his so hard that two of Fen’s knuckles cracked. “Now what?” She gritted out.
“Relax… talk.” Elijah growled encouragingly.
“What the hell should we talk about?” Queried Fen through gritted teeth.
“You think I fucking care?” Elijah sounded like he was seconds away from storming the beach and slapping one or both of them up the back of the head. “The weather. Climate change. Evolution versus creationism. I. Don’t. Give. A. Damn. Just talk!”
The edge of Brodie’s lips twitched upwards. “He sounds narky. What’s up with Elijah?”
“I think half his body is still encased in a seaweed wrap that Nell’s been trialling lately… Day two? Yeah, he’s probably itchy and cranky as all get out by now.”
“Do not talk about itching.” Elijah practically groaned.
“What about scratching?” Brodie grinned at Fen. “Can we talk about scratching?”
“I will kill you both. I’ve changed my mind, shut up, the two of you.”
They both laughed. Fen tugging on Brodie slightly so she would avoid stepping on a sharp shell.
“Thanks.” She looked at him startled for a moment. The amusement draining abruptly from her face.
Fen’s grin faded just as suddenly as he looked in to Brodie’s fractured snowflake eyes. “No problem.”
They walked along in silence for a few moments, holding hands, the tension between them once more beginning to simmer and boil.
“This is painful to watch.” Elijah suddenly muttered over the comms. “Look, I think it’s time you stage the fight and Fen gets out of there. Maybe this guy already has eyes on you and is just waiting until Brodie is alone.”
“What should we fight about?” Brodie looked over at Fen.
“I don’t know.” Fen shrugged. “What do you and your boyfriends normally fight about?”
“I told you. I have sex. I don’t have attachments or commitments, and I certainly don’t have boyfriends.”
Way to put him in his place. Yeah, Valhalla, just remember you mean nothing to the Valkyrie other than a convenient roll in the sack.
“What about you?” Brodie scowled his way. “What do you usually fight about with your girlfriends?”
“Ditto. You’re probably the longest anyone has lasted in the role, and that was pretend for my mother’s benefit.”
Ouch. Brodie gritted her teeth to keep from wincing. Way to make her feel special, not. She was just one in a long line of meaningless sexual encounters for Fen. Give him a few weeks, maybe even mere days after she was gone, and he’d no doubt have trouble recalling her name.
“You’re squeezing my hand a little tight there, Xena.”
“Sorry. I’m out of practise.” Brodie relaxed her grip slightly. “What about Saffron?”
“What about her?” Fen’s left eyebrow quirked upwards for a brief second.
“Well, she’s been living in your house for months.”
“Not with me, she hasn’t.” Fen denied quickly.
“She bakes for you. Cleans your clothes. Is friendly with your mother… your family. Technically, if anyone is your pretend girlfriend, it’s Saffron.”
“The woman is delusional. Any relationship we have is purely in her head.”
“Yet it doesn’t sound like you’ve ever bothered to correct her assumption.” Brodie frowned. “Despite all your protests, you’re practically leading the woman on. Do you enjoy her worshipful stares? The way she tends to your every need with a breathy smile and a heaving bosom? Is that why you’ve never forcibly removed her from your house? Your life? Why you haven’t broken up with her?”
“There’s nothing to break up from. She’s not my girlfriend.”
Brodie dropped his hand, her fists coming to rest on her hips as she faced him. “She doesn’t seem to know that.”
“Not my fault.” Fen shook his head. Brodie had no idea the number of times he’d tried to politely eject Saffron from his property, from his life. The woman would just not take a hint.
“I think it is your fault. How hard is it to toss the woman out on her butt? I think you secretly like the attention.”
“You’re insane. You’ve met her. You’ve seen how tenacious she is. Short of calling the police, what was I expected to do?”
Elijah’s voice interjected. “Okay guys, this is great, now Fen, storm off.”
“Shut up.” Both Fen and Brodie hissed into their mics in unison.
“No seriously, Brodie. What did you expect me to do?”
“Confront her. Throw her out, change the locks… something…. anything but let her keep sleeping in your bed.” Higher Plains, she didn’t recognise the jealous shrew shrieking, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Fen rolled his eyes. “The house is slated for demolition. Windows are missing, there are no locks. I made it very clear the first time I met Saffron.” Fen was mad, but he wasn’t insane, he left the part out about how Saffron had been lying naked in his bed the first time he met her. “I told her then and there that I wasn’t interested. Would never be interested.”
“And yet you let her keep on living in your house.” Brodie’s gut churned with red hot anger.
“Because I didn’t care! It didn’t matter. I didn’t have to live there. I’d already salvaged all the good stuff and sent it off for restoration. I knew Saffron would have to leave eventually once the demolition crew turned up. Inevitably, she’ll be out of my life for good, I just have to be patient.”
He didn’t care? The words rebounded around in Brodie’s head.
Suddenly she felt hollow and empty. He’d tried to warn her off from the beginning, but had she listened? Oh, no. She’d kept throwing herself at him. And he’d been so polite… sure he’d blathered on about match makers hunting him, and his stupid celibacy vow. But all that really boiled down to the fact that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.
All Fen had been doing since they met was merely biding his time, using her to catch the insane Vulcan throwing super heated rocks around for shits and giggles. But ultimately, Fen knew she would be leaving. Returning home. All he had to do was be patient, eventually, like Saffron, she’d be out of his life.
Brodie wished fervently that she was already home. Already alone, to curl up and lick her wounds. No, that was not the Valkyrie way, she needed someone to maim… someone to kill. “I can’t get home fast enough.”
Fen crossed his muscular arms. “Can’t wait to be out of here, huh?” Lovely, a stupendous night of sex and the Valkyrie already had one foot out the door. He doubted she’d even remember his name inside of a week. “Well, when the time comes, no need for goodbyes. We’ve already said everything we needed to say, right?” He studied her closely, looking for any sign of hesitation, regret.
Brodie nodded abruptly. Goodbyes were for lovers, family and friends. What she and Fen had shared together, that was nothing more than a meaningless holiday fling. Over. Done. “You can storm off now.” She instructed. “We’re finished here.”
Fen nodded abruptly, cerulean eyes for once shuttered and guarded. “Yeah, we’re done.” He swivelled abruptly, storming across the fine white sand, headed towards the car park.
Brodie turned away, she didn’t want to watch him walking away from her, it… hurt too much. Feelings, stupid weak feelings, she hated them. Of course staring out at the gorgeous blue ocean didn�
�t exactly help matters, the sparkling depths reminding her of Fen’s eyes when they twinkled with amusement.
Heavens, was that to be her life now, tormented at every turn by reminders of Fen?
That’s why she desperately needed to get back on the battlefield, where she could paint the world red. No reminders of Fen there. As long as she didn’t have to fight the Faulkfaust demons with their bright blue blood. Yes, back to her life. Where things made sense. The enemy was clearly defined and her job description was set in stone. She wouldn’t have to think, just kill.
Yes, she would bury all these silly, weak emotions. She would lock away all her memories regarding Fen. The way glints of red lit up his chocolate dark hair when the sunshine hit it. How he always appeared to be suppressing a smile. The feel of his calloused hands running over her flesh. The taste of his lips. His smell; ozone, leather, and polished timber.
No, locking those memories away wouldn’t be enough. She’d be too tempted to bring them out, relive them. She needed to find a way to purge herself completely. Perhaps if she replaced him with another man? Brodie bit back a laugh. She needed to be realistic, there would never be anyone like Fen again in her life.
So she would train harder than she ever had before, and she would sign up for overtime, every battle going. She would physically exhaust herself and could only pray that one day, eventually, she would not be tormented by the absence of Fen from her life. Her long, long… lonely life.
Freyja, the sun shining off the ocean was bright today as she felt moisture leak from her eyes in response. Stupid, bright sunshine.
“I’m calling it.”
Brodie jumped, she’d forgotten about the Enforcers, Elijah, the trap. So wrapped up in her own misery. It was inexcusable. “It hasn’t been long enough yet.” She protested.
“It’s been over an hour, Brodie. Anyone? Taite? Caine?”
Brodie was stunned. An hour! She’d been brooding over Fen for an hour? If he’d been standing nearby she would have punched him. Though giving him the power to distract her, that was all on her.
She needed to suck it up and get her head back in the game. Step number one, stay far away from Fen Valhalla until they caught this Vulcan asshole. Step number two, try and stop her heart from racing and her sex creaming every time she thought about him. Step three, find someone to pummel ASAP.
“Fen, what do you think?” Elijah’s gravelly voice was back in her ear. “Fen? …. Fen? Does anyone have eyes on Fen?”
Oh no. No! Brodie was running across the hot sand, Raven suddenly in her hand. There was no sign of Fen in the car park, she was about to breathe a sigh of relief when her gaze was caught and held by a charred, almost symmetrical circle, the size of a wagon wheel, staining the roughly paved car park. The dark surface still glowing in patches, bubbling, where it was too hot to touch. Acrid ozone assailed her nostrils and something else stained the ground… a splatter of blood. Fen!
Chapter Twenty
Waking to the smell of burning flesh and hair is unpleasant. Times that by a factor of ten when you realise the flesh and hair belong to you.
Fen came back to consciousness with a yelp of pain, followed by a series of slurred curse words, interspersed by low groans. His training immediately kicked in, access the damage, do what you can to mitigate the worse injuries.
His wrists. White hot pain gnawed at him. Fen stared down at the manacles clamped around his wrists. The damn things glowed orange, fucking hell, how much heat were they radiating? He could hear his flesh melting.
With a wobbly pulse of power, he sent a current of air to lift the super heated metal away from his sizzling flesh. Shit, he struggled to keep the stream of cooling air steady. Luckily, there was some give in the manacles.
With the metal no longer touching his flesh he could practically feel his warrior healing powers go to work. Still, why was it a struggle? Why did he feel so sluggish? He blinked, ouch, he could barely see out of his left eye, and what he could see was kind of blurred. He definitely had a concussion. But he was guessing that his innate healing powers deemed the severe burns on his wrists, the raw bubbling open wounds that gave him a stomach churning view of his bones, to be priority number one.
Yes, he could live with a blurry world for a bit longer if it meant fixing the mess that was his wrists. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on his breathing, keeping the stream of air magic steady, keeping the manacles away from his blackened, melted flesh. Trying not to flinch or moan as his body slowly began knitting itself back together.
The cooling air also stripped away the heat from the metal. His nose hairs no longer felt in danger of disintegrating, but it still took all his energy, all his strength, just to remain still and heal.
He couldn’t afford any big showy expenditures of magic, like breaking free. Who knew what other obstacles he might yet have to deal with. Better to remain in the manacles and quietly utilise the rest of his energy to heal. There would be plenty of time for breaking free and exacting revenge on who ever had done this to him later.
Speaking of which, where was his host? And where in the hell was he?
As rocky, dirt strewn caverns went, this one was on the spacious side, with a soaring ceiling. No direct light filtered in from outside but it wasn’t needed. Not with the large pool of boiling molten lava situated smack dab in the middle of the cavern, bubbling away, radiating heat and a soft orange light.
He could be any where in the world. Though the pool of lava should narrow it down. No where local to the Southern Sanctuary. Unless the flying Fabio Vulcan dickhead travelled with his own vat of lava.
Fuck, for all he knew he was in Hawaii, where the Vulcan clan hailed from. Hmm, but he didn’t think he’d been unconscious long enough to be dragged that far.
Shit. There was no obvious exit, although tipping his head back and squinting, he thought he might just make out a distant glimmer of blurry blue sky. If that was the case, no way was he getting out of this cavern without wings or some high tech climbing gear. Neither of which he currently had access to.
Priorities. He had to start thinking instead of feeling, reacting. He needed to push down on the pain… the fucking excruciating pain and think. Heal his wrists. Deal with the concussion, and then move on to any other injuries he might have sustained and fix them if required.
Then next on his agenda, if he had any energy left over, he would break free. Although, he squinted upwards futilely, if he couldn’t escape the cavern, it might be better to remain in the manacles, save his strength for dealing with the fuckwit who kidnapped and brought him here. The bastard hunting Brodie.
Shit, Brodie! He was pretty sure she was safe. She’d still been on the beach last time he’d looked, guarded by a dozen very capable Enforcers. Fen’s stomach churned with raw anger, no, he pushed it away, he was sure she was fine. If anyone could look after themselves, it was Brodie. She was probably chomping at the bit right now, disgusted that her chance at confronting her yet to be glimpsed enemy had slipped through her fingers.
And probably completely pissed off that she was forced to spend another minute away from her precious battlefields.
Which was unfair of him, he realised. Brodie wasn’t the single faceted Valkyrie he had at first thought. She wasn’t just all about the maiming or the beheading. She’d given her entire focus to training the self-defence class, studying and getting to know each individual to help them excel. She’d acted like a girl with a crush on a teen heart-throb when she’d met his Dad. She laughed, okay not often, but when she did it was genuine and heartfelt. She was bold, persistent and truthful to a fault.
She didn’t hesitate, when she saw something she wanted, she went after it, whether that be a flag at the top of a hill, or him. His gut tightened in memory of their night together, a word swimming up and slapping him, perfect. It had been pretty bloody perfect. Together, they had been perfect.
But what did that matter? He wasn’t a commitment sort of guy… and even if he was… even if just f
or one moment he considered being that guy, what the fuck did it matter? Brodie wasn’t that sort of woman.
She’d been damn blunt from the very first. No attachments, no commitments, no emotions. She belonged on the battlefield, she’d never wavered from that goal. Never pretended to be anything different than a Valkyrie, born to kill.
Shit, so the problem lay with him. He was the one who had broken all the rules. Fallen in love with a Valkyrie. Love? Fen Valhalla?
For all his loud talk about remaining single and being celibate, he realised what he’d really been doing was abstaining from life. Hiding, protecting himself from getting hurt.
And when he did fall, of course it would be for a woman whose world revolved around war, fighting and bloodshed. Whose heart sang for the battle cry, the smell of blood and the declaration of victory.
Brodie had been very clear from the beginning, there was no room in her life for anything but her swords, training and battle. She wasn’t interested in attachments or emotions.
She wouldn’t be interested in any attempt he made to insinuate himself into her life in the future. She didn’t want to split her focus. Didn’t want anything from him but the chance to get back to her life, her world. And the least he could do, was get her back there. And to do that he needed to survive and find out what the hell was going on, and who was behind all this crap.
Fen reclined back against a convenient rock, regulating his breathing, forcing his body to relax. The Enforcers knew he was missing. They’d be looking for him. In the meantime, he just needed to stay calm, heal, and then he’d try to work out exactly what his captor wanted with him and why he was hunting Brodie.
Half an hour later, Fen stared down at his wrists. They weren’t pretty, the flesh red raw, blistered and shiny. But internally his wrist felt better, a lot better. He redirected his healing powers to his head, careful not to waste his strength, his energy, on dealing with inane things such as his puffy blackened eye, or any of the shallow cuts or bruises that covered his arms or legs.
Finally, between one blink and the next the world came into sharp, clear focus. He shook his head carefully as a test. Still some pain, bruising, but the ache and harsh throbbing had been reduced to a dull murmur. He could see clearly. He could think clearly. Time to get some answers.
