Knox tossed Vale and the bag onto the bed and spun, facing the rift, positioned to kill anyone who dared follow him through. Five seconds. Ten. Vale muttered incoherently about coffee beans. He needed to tend to her, and soon, but didn’t allow himself to look at her. Fifteen seconds. Twenty.
The rift wove back together at last.
Knox sheathed his daggers and rushed to the bed to examine his guest. Her lips were tinted blue, her cheeks were chapped and too pink, and the rest of her was too pale. Once vibrant hazel irises had dulled and were now glazed with pain; her movements had become uncoordinated.
When mortals were exposed to cold for a long period, their bodies sacrificed their extremities to care for their internal organs. Vale had reached that stage, and was no longer able to shiver.
“Tired,” she managed to whisper.
“Stay awake—that’s an order.”
“Trying...”
“We need to warm you up.”
“Warm...yessss,” she breathed.
“We must do it slowly.” Too quickly, and her heart could burst from the strain created by uninhibited blood flow.
But how? The bunker had no fireplace.
The bath was controlled by a mix of magic and technology. With simple vocal commands, he could heat the water to his specifications. He could even heat different areas to different temperatures.
Very well. “I need to remove your clothing, Vale. All right? A bath is the best way to get you warm.”
“Yes, anything. Hurry.”
Motions strong and sure, he removed her jacket, thermals and tights, leaving her in a bra and panties. While some of the garments were strange to him, his translator supplied the proper words—until his brain short-circuited, and his jaw went slack. Her body. All feminine curves, ripe sensuality and wicked temptation.
Desire delivered a hard one-two punch to his gut—desire he couldn’t control or override. He rubbed a hand over his mouth.
Ignore her appeal. Do not stare.
She was curvier than he’d expected, with plump breasts, a trim waist and delightfully rounded hips. On the flat plane of her belly and thigh were multiple tattoos of flowers. Some petals appeared raised—to cover scars?
Yes, oh, yes. Someone had hurt her.
Ignore the rage!
Knox slid his arms underneath Vale’s exquisite frame, then lifted her against his chest. Light as air. Though she hadn’t succumbed to sleep, her limbs remained lax, her head lolling back and forth.
For a moment he missed her indomitable spirit. Which was foolish. Her indomitable spirit would cause him nothing but problems.
Knox carried her to the tub, and he plucked a piece of fruit from a tree along the way. After kicking off his boots, he stepped into the cool water, stopping when the surface reached his navel. He was shirtless, but still wearing pants for the sake of the girl—mostly.
“Gauge the female’s core temperature, and heat gradually to prevent complications from hypothermia,” he commanded, ensuring her face remained above the surface of water.
As they soaked, he ate the fruit, his stomach grateful for nourishment after being empty for so long. At the same time, the grit and grime from battle washed from his skin, and the antiseptic qualities of the self-cleaning water disinfected any lingering wounds, speeding up the healing process.
In the ensuing fifteen...thirty...forty-five minutes, the water warmed to an Iviland summer of old. Hot, but not stifling. Finally, Vale’s coloring brightened.
Relief suffused him. Allowing her to float on her back, he kept one hand under her head and moved behind her, her luscious little body stretching out before him, a buffet of sensual delights.
His muscles clenched all over again, his blood growing hotter than the water. He wanted to see all of her, every nuance. If he activated Shiloh’s lenses, he could. Shouldn’t he study every inch of his enemy in great detail? Shouldn’t he look...touch...or even seduce her to his side? One kiss and—
He recoiled. One kiss would ruin centuries of hard work.
During training, instructors had repeatedly warned their charges never to kiss a woman. You’ll find your downfall in her lips. Knox had understood the reason why the moment he’d witnessed a couple locking lips. The two had lost sight of the world, no one and nothing able to gain their notice. The absolute worst thing that could happen during war. Or ever. Even when you were free, you had to remain ready for battle.
One day, though, all of that would change for Knox.
When Ansel and the entire royal family were dead, and the High Council and its army of Enforcers had been eradicated...then, and only then, would Knox discover the rich pleasures derived from devouring every inch of a woman. Maybe he would even consider starting a family.
Never again would someone have the power to take a child away from him.
Vale moaned and blinked rapidly. Appearing dazed, she swept her gaze over him—
And gasped. She wrenched upright and scurried to the other side of the tub, shock and horror glittering in her kohl-rimmed eyes. Long locks of hair clung to the lace that shielded her breasts. In the light, multiple silver piercings glinted along the shell of her ear.
“You.” Somehow, she turned the lone word into a thousand accusations. “The murderer.”
“Yes. Me. An immortal made for war. Killing is what I do, what I’m good at. I do not live by societies’ rules, and I’m abhorrent to those who do—those who’ve never had to fight to retain their liberties, those who are content to let others do the fighting for them, only to scoff at the results.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re immortal.”
“I am. And I apologize for not bathing naked—the way you prefer me.”
A blush spread like wildfire over her cheeks. “You heard me in the cave.”
“I did.” And he’d enjoyed every proclamation.
“Well, the list of things I know about you is growing. An immortal soldier who enjoys disemboweling his victims, teasing strange women about full frontal, and just all-around sucks.”
His translator was supposed to update automatically, like the bunker, but he had trouble deciphering her meaning. He sucked—on what? It was supposed to be an insult, he was sure...but how?
He wouldn’t ask. Her opinion meant nothing to him, because she meant nothing.
As she cast her gaze over her body, tremors rocked her, sending ripples through the water. When she caught sight of her undergarments, the roses in her cheeks deepened.
Rather than draping an arm over her breasts, she jutted her chin and glared at him, all look your fill but never touch, stunning and impressing him. Delighting him.
“Where are we?” she asked. “Wait. I remember. The air...you created some sort of door.” She blanched. “How did you create a door?”
“I will ask questions, female, and you will answer.”
Now she flinched, as any intelligent person would when he used such a harsh tone, but this one bowed up a second later, as if gearing for a fight. “I have a name, you know. I’m—”
“Don’t care.”
“—Valerina Shaylynn London,” she said, then acted as if he’d begged for more information about her. “My friends call me Vale. And I know what you’re thinking. Valerina is a ludicrous name. I agree. And also, if my name is Valerina, why does my nickname rhyme with hail rather than pal? Funny story. As a child, I couldn’t pronounce—”
“Enough!” Knox had no friends and wanted none. “What were you doing in the ice prison, Valerina?”
She humphed. “You didn’t let me finish. You may call me Miss London. My sister and I—You remember her, yeah? The sick girl who needs her medicine? We were lost and looking for shelter. And I knew you belonged in prison. I knew it! What crimes did you commit, besides cold-blooded murder? Only all of them?”
Ignoring her questions, he b
arked, “Tell me everything. How you found the cave, and why you were lost in the area. Leave out no detail.”
“No, thanks. I’ve seen this movie. Once you learn what you want to know, you’ll have no more use for me, so you’ll slice and dice me, then call it a day. Why don’t we switch things up? You tell me everything, then I slice and dice you.”
Knox crossed his arms over his chest. Usually, when someone threatened him, they died. So why did he admire this female for her bravery?
“Slicing and dicing won’t kill me,” he said. “I can regenerate organs and limbs.”
“So, how do I kill you, then?” She batted her lashes at him, all innocence. “Asking for a friend.”
Enough. “Back to a subject that matters. Before we arrived in my bunker, you agreed to answer my questions. You will hold up your end of the bargain. What you will not do—issue another threat. Because I won’t ignore the next one. I’ll make you regret it.”
Paling, she scrambled up the pool’s rocky ledge. Where did she intend to go? Knox swam the distance and dragged her back into the water.
As she struggled for freedom, her feminine softness rubbed against his masculine hardness, and he hissed in a breath. “Be still, Valerina.”
“Rape wasn’t part of our deal.” Despite his threats, she nailed him with an elbow to the chin, her patented move. “You know what? Screw our deal. I refuse to answer your questions until my sister is at my side. Alive!”
He tightened his hold. Do not let her continue to rub against you.
He didn’t try to stop her.
Resist the urge to rub back.
He rubbed back.
She wiggled with more force—rub, rub, rubbing, so wet, so warm—his resistance crumbling...
Will grind against her so hard I’ll wring—
With a growl, he tossed her away from him, lest he do something they would both regret. She slipped under the surface, then came up sputtering. When she opened her mouth to most likely deliver a stinging retort, he realized and accepted he couldn’t intimidate her. She wasn’t like other people, which meant he shouldn’t treat her the same as everyone else.
“Do not elbow me again, and do not run,” he snapped. “And do not make me warn you again.”
Another flinch, sheer terror radiating from her. But the terror didn’t last long. She sneered and saluted him, saying, “Sir, yes, sir. Anything you say, Commander Douche.”
Well, well. Her prickly exterior was a type of armor. He recognized the signs. After losing Minka, he’d been a walking, talking wound, predisposed to roar at anyone nearby. Anything to hide the hurt. If he’d let his emotions overtake him, Ansel would have exploited his vulnerability, and made everything worse.
He felt a wrench of sympathy for Vale—and a pang of connection. “How did you receive your scars?” he asked, giving voice to his earlier curiosity.
“A brute just like you didn’t appreciate my finer qualities,” she said.
His hands fisted. “Was he punished?”
“Oh, yes. I cut up his face. For the rest of his life, he’ll see a reminder of me every time he looks in the mirror.”
“I’m glad.” Now, to figure out how to proceed with her. Interrogation had never been his greatest strength; he tended to rely on aggression, and pain. But the thought of crushing this female held no appeal.
Perhaps if he pretended to be reasonable, she would respond in kind and actually be reasonable.
Worth a shot. Water rippled as he softened his stance. “Give me ten minutes of your time, and absolute honesty. That’s all I’m asking...Vale. In return—”
“You’ll take me back to the mountain, so we can search for my sister,” she interjected with a nod. “Yes. Okay. Agreed.”
No. In return, he wouldn’t take harsher measures against her. Let her assume whatever she wished, though. He couldn’t be blamed.
“Tell me how you reached the prison,” he prompted.
“I was on vacation with Nola. We went for a hike in the Khibiny Mountains. One second we were surrounded by grass and trees, the next we were surrounded by ice. We stumbled upon a cabin, and our guide left us to die. Two weeks later, we were running out of food and decided to venture out to find help. That’s when we came upon the...prison.”
“What do you know about the All War?”
“Nothing.” She arched a dark brow. “What do you know about the All War?”
And he’d missed her spirit?
Again, he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you know about vikings?”
“The basket...foot...base...sports team? Or the ancient, uh, barbarians?”
“Barbarians. Do you know where they reside, or what they are doing?”
“I think they’re busy feeding worms. Underground. Because they’re extinct.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling?”
He pursed his lips. Exactly how much time had passed since Erik had used the Rod of Clima?
“Wait.” Vale jolted, as if excited and dismayed all at once. “Were you frozen in Viking times?”
“Yes.” They’d died out? “What year is this?”
She told him, and he jolted. He should have been prepared for the answer, since he’d known centuries had passed. He just hadn’t realized he’d gone thirteen hundred years without speaking with Ansel...or that Seven had gone just as long without making contact with the High Council.
To Knox’s knowledge, no All War had ever lasted more than five centuries.
He should contact Ansel now. The king had requested countless meetings throughout Knox’s confinement, but he’d been unable to respond.
No, he decided. He would wait. The king would want answers he couldn’t give, might even command him to do things he wasn’t ready to do. He would hold out and make the king open communication with him.
“The news is stunning to us both, I see,” Vale said. “I mean, you’re walking, talking proof that sci-fi is real. I shouldn’t fangirl, right, because you’re a killer and all.”
“Fangirl?”
“How were you imprisoned? A curse? Magic? It was magic, wasn’t it? I knew myths were steeped in truth. How did you survive the ice? Your immortality?”
Her excitement drew him, a force too strong to deny. Slowly, every motion measured, he swam toward her. As she clocked his every movement, some of her excitement ebbed. She became wary, but also...fascinated?
He stopped directly in front of her and straightened to his full height. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle hit his awareness, more delicious than before, and he was grateful he still wore pants.
But any second, his erection might break the fly.
Focus. Resist her appeal.
Can’t. “Tell me, female. Do you have a clan? Better yet, do you have a man?”
* * *
A STRANGE MIX of panic, exhilaration and astonishment provoked the edges of Vale’s mind, and she fought to maintain her composure.
Revealing your emotions gave others power over you. No, thanks. But come on! Myths were real, and Knox was part of one. She’d always secretly suspected fiction was more than fiction.
Once, she’d admitted her thoughts online. Within days, internet trolls had utterly annihilated her with comments about “conspiracy theories,” telling her she was a nutjob and shouldn’t procreate, and the world would be better off without her.
Go screw yourselves!
Hogwarts might actually exist, and mutants could be hiding in society. Maybe he was cursed. Or an incubus—a male demon who had sex with sleeping women. He was looking at her as if he was starved, and she was an all-you-can-eat buffet. The change in him stole her breath.
Did he look at every woman that way?
I’m not disappointed. I’m not.
Fight his appeal. Murderer, remember?
Dang it, maybe she was the one who’d gotten cursed. She’d stepped into that cave, and everything had changed. Her senses had heightened, and her body had developed an instant crush on the most inappropriate man on the planet.
Who was this man, really? What was he, exactly? Why did his eye sockets sometimes turn black? What powers did he possess? Besides creating invisible doorways and surviving an ice prison without physical injury for over a thousand years, of course. And how was he more beautiful with every minute that ticked by?
Maybe she could—and should—leverage his horniness to aid her escape. No other reason.
Or maybe she should just skip the crap altogether and engage prison rules, showing him who was boss.
Truth was, Vale would do horrible, depraved things to help her sister. Nola was still out there, withdrawal symptoms soon to hit, unless she or Zion found new pills.
Where had he taken her? Somewhere like this? Whatever this was. The rocky walls, stone floor and cenote told her they were in a cave of some sort, but that made no sense. Trees couldn’t grow underground without sunlight, yet four fruit trees flourished amid zero rays.
“Vale?” he prompted.
Right. He’d asked her a question. “By clan, I assume you mean family. Yes. My sister, who still needs my help. Our help. And by man, I assume you mean husband. Yes,” she said. A lie, sure, but only technically. Sometime in the future, she would get married, and the claim would be true. “I’m his moon and stars, and he’ll pay a huge ransom for my safe return. He’ll pay even more for my sister’s safe return.”
A muscle beneath Knox’s eye ticked like a bomb about to detonate. “There will be no ransom. The male can do without you for a short time.”
His voice...so rough and raspy, still so intoxicating. Once again, she got drunk on the sweet taste of whiskey and honey.
Wait. He’d just implied he had no plans to keep her long-term or chop her up into little pieces and eat her.
Let’s get this Q and A wrapped up.
“Why am I here, Knox?” She used his name, hoping to spur him into using hers. The more he saw her as a living being with hopes and dreams, the kinder he would be, probably. “What is it you really want to know? And what is this place?”
Shadow and Ice Page 7
