Valkyrie's Call

by Michelle Manus

  “Ah, well,” Random started, following Kyrie and Abaddon into the barn.

  “Is this like your thing with the damn bird?”

  It was nothing like his connection with Nelsen. The bridge of understanding his Aspect had forged between him and the falcon was not one it had ever repeated with another animal. But it would be much easier to let Kyrie think that than it would be to explain that one of his deepest desires was for her to call this place home, and that any home she had would have her horses, so his Aspect kept pulling them here.

  He gave a casual shrug. “You know how my Aspect is. Probably just trying to be neighborly.”

  She walked Abaddon into one of the barn’s large box stalls. It wasn’t until she’d slipped the halter off that his words seemed to hit her.

  “Neighborly? Random, how far from my house are we?”

  He swallowed. “Are we talking on foot at a leisurely stroll, or—”

  “Random.”

  “Like a two minute drive.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “You bought the Addams’ place.”

  He had really, really hoped she wouldn’t think about it that much.

  “You don’t even like the country.”

  “It has its charms. Besides, the city wasn’t good for Nelsen, and this way I’m closer to Jace and Siren.”

  She nodded, but she had that little twist to her lips that meant something still bothered her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Dear goddess, don’t let her realize the Addams never put a house up on this land. Much less a state-of-the-art equine facility. Hells, he’d never intended for her to be here in a situation where he would find it uncomfortable to explain all of this. Fortunately for him, Krissi’s truck chose that moment to trundle down his drive.

  “Where’s the trailer?” he asked.

  “We don’t need it. Much as I dislike the unorthodox way they arrived here, I’d rather everything living was off my property until this is over. That is, if you don’t mind?”

  “May as well get some use out of the place.” His stupid Aspect didn’t seem to understand that this wasn’t winning. It just understood that the horses were staying, that Kyrie was staying, and it did happy little somersaults inside him the entire time he helped Kyrie and Krissi unload grain bins and hay bales.

  Krissi, apparently, didn’t understand it either, because as they hauled the last bale into the hay shed she grinned at him and said, “Congratulations, by the way.”

  Dear goddess, was there anyone in Seclusion who hadn’t realized he had it bad for Valkyrie?

  “Congratulations on what?”

  Krissi blanched at the ice in Valkyrie’s voice as her employer rounded the corner. She looked from Random to Valkyrie and back to Random.

  “On, you know...”

  “Our date,” Random stepped in. “Couldn’t keep it to myself. Terribly excited.”

  “And where would this date be happening?” Krissi asked.

  “Nowhere,” Valkyrie said, at the same time Random answered, “StellaMia’s.”

  Krissi looked at Valkyrie. “You’re going to a fancy restaurant for a date?”

  “Isn’t that what people do on dates?”

  “I guess, I just figured you’d be more the type to, ah—” She cut off at the look on Valkyrie’s face. “You know what? Never mind. Have a good time. I’ll just go start that vacation.” She sped back to her truck and made her escape in record time.

  “Was it necessary to tell her that?” Valkyrie’s perfectly calm demeanor told Random precisely how pissed off she was.

  “The more it seems like a real date, the less cause DuPont will have to connect us to anything. She’s free press. She’ll have spread it over half of Seclusion by the end of the day.”

  “Maybe I don’t want half of Seclusion to know.”

  His temper snapped, even though he knew it wasn’t rational. But if she couldn’t stand even the possibility of her name being romantically attached to his, then he’d clearly been an idiot to think she could actually give a damn about him. “Of course not. You wouldn’t want your precious reputation sullied by being connected to me, of all people.”

  “That’s not—”

  “How about I make it easy for you? No one ever said it had to be a happy date. By all means, throw a glass of wine on me by the end of the night. Everyone will blame me. After all, I’m not the serious type. They’ll assume I said something insensitive and you realized what a huge mistake going out with me was.”

  “Random—”

  “You can even say it loudly. This was a mistake, Random. That is how you feel about me, isn’t it? About fucking me? Just one big mistake. You may as well air all your grievances in public. Hell, maybe it’ll be cathartic for both of us.”

  Valkyrie watched Random disappear inside the house, dumbfounded. He’d been whistling an hour ago because he was happy to be rid of her and now he was upset because he thought she didn’t want to be seen in public with him? His damn mood swings were giving her whiplash. She could’ve brushed it off if he hadn’t sounded so bitter, hadn’t looked so hurt.

  She let out a frustrated breath and walked back into the barn. The horses were all calm as daisies, and no reason they shouldn’t be if they’d been to Random’s place several times of their own accord. She turned Lilith, Azazel, and Dagon out into the large paddock, and led Abaddon to the cross ties.

  The mare huffed out a deep breath, as if to say Why me?, but she stood patiently while Valkyrie brushed her down and tacked her up. The wonderful thing about horses was that they were difficult to bullshit. If her attention wasn’t completely focused on them, they knew it and took advantage. Which was only fair, to Valkyrie’s mind, since if she wasn’t willing to give them her best, she didn’t feel she deserved theirs.

  So Valkyrie put Random out of her mind, and for the next hour the only things that existed were her and Abaddon. She’d only had the mare under saddle a few months, so she warmed her up slowly, taking her through all her gaits until the mare relaxed into the work. She hadn’t ridden her in a few weeks, unable to find the time, the right head-space, so she started today taking her back through all the basic maneuvers she’d begun teaching her; forehand and hindquarter turns, side-passing at the walk and the trot. She moved on from there into trotting and cantering circles with her balanced and curved inward, on from there into flying lead changes.

  A lot of people in the horse world liked to claim that mares were contrary and stubborn. Unpredictable or more trouble than they were worth. But the truth was, a mare would give you one-hundred percent every time. You just had to earn it from them.

  As usually happened, by the time she’d cooled Abaddon down and turned her out with the herd, whatever tension Valkyrie had been carrying had eased. With her thoughts in less of a tangle, she could try and look at Random’s reaction from his point of view.

  No one wanted to be thought of as a mistake. No one wanted someone else to be ashamed of being seen in public with them and that...that must have been how her words had come across.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. Sorry I got pissed, but I’m worried my father will suddenly turn up again. If he at all thinks you’re important to me, he’ll probably kill you if I don’t kill him first. No, she could never tell Random that.

  She walked into the house to find him baking. Again. “How do you possibly have any sugar left?”

  He didn’t verbalize an answer, didn’t even look at her. He just pointed at the counter where a very large, clear storage container was half full of sugar.

  “I guess if you buy that much it’s hard to run out,” she muttered as he extracted a baking sheet from the oven. A dozen cookies were spaced in even rows. They were the degree of perfectly round she’d thought only existed in mass-manufactured products. They were also her favorite: chocolate cookie with chocolate-chips.

  “Did you need something?” he asked.

  Shit. She’d come in here to try and smooth things ove
r and instead she’d judged the amount of sugar in his possession. Why was she incapable of ever saying the right thing around him? Why was it that whenever she meant to be nice, or neutral, she turned into a complete bitch? Maybe she should try to say horrible things to him. Maybe then she’d end up saying things like, The cookies smell amazing, or, You look nice today, or some other kind of inane conversation starter.

  He set the baking sheet on a cooling rack and leaned back against the stove, his arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow lifted in silent demand.

  “It’s not about you,” she tried.

  “Few things ever are.”

  “I mean the...date.” She nearly choked getting the word out. “Not wanting a lot of people to know. It isn’t about you. About being seen with you, specifically.”

  The long line of his body tensed. “Are you seeing someone?”

  What? “No.”

  “Then what are you concerned about?”

  “I can’t explain it. Look, I just thought you should know, okay? It isn’t you. I’m sure there are lots of women who would be happy to publicly go on a date with you.”

  He stared at her, like he was trying to figure out if she was putting him on. Then he burst out laughing. Full-on, doubled-over, hands-on-his-knees laughing.

  She felt her cheeks flush hot. She was never fucking apologizing to him again. “What is so damn funny?”

  He straightened, still laughing, and wiped tears—actual fucking tears—from his eyes.

  “You just gave me the, it’s-not-you-it’s-me-and-you’ll-make-someone-else-a-wonderful-boyfriend-someday speech and we’re not even in a relationship to break up from. You’re fucking priceless, Kyrie.”

  He transferred a cookie to a small saucer and handed it to her. She stared at it, confused. “So are you mad at me or not?”

  He shook his head. “What’s the point?”

  That didn’t seem like a question that had an actual answer, so she steered the conversation in an opposite direction. She lifted the saucer. “I don’t suppose you have...”

  He rolled his eyes and pulled a whipped cream canister from the fridge. It wasn’t the pre-made kind found in grocery stores. No, it was one of the sleek, silver canisters like baristas used, the kind that required a CO2 cartridge and made whipped cream from actual heavy cream when the trigger was depressed. Because of course it was.

  She settled onto a barstool, ate the cookie, and tried not to feel guilty about hurting Random’s feelings. Then she watched him eat his own cookie and lick whipped cream off his fingers and tried not to feel anything at all.

  She failed, miserably, and suddenly she was remembering him licking her in some rather interesting places, and wondering what it would be like if he was licking whipped cream off of her, and—

  She stood up so fast she sent the bar stool skidding backwards. “I need to go home and pack clothes.”

  Random stared at her. “Right now?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  “Okay.” He stretched the word out.

  “So, I’ll just go.” She grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

  He sighed. “Glued to your side, remember?” he said, and followed her out to her Jeep.

  8

  Valkyrie tossed yet another black tank top out of her closet. Her wardrobe was not something that had ever concerned her before, so she’d never paid much attention to it. An in-depth inspection proved it consisted of jeans, yoga pants, tank tops, and the evening gown she’d worn to last year’s Gathering Ball. Approximately eighty-percent of the clothing was black, and none of it was appropriate to wear on a date.

  At least, she didn’t think it was. She didn’t really know anything about dates. Even if she’d been willing to risk wearing something in her closet, none of it qualified as casual elegant, which was the dress code listed when she’d Googled StellaMia’s. What the fuck did casual elegant even mean?

  Valkyrie had never understood this stuff. She’d never had any interest in it, and her mother had never tried to force it on her. After her mother had died, her father had taken over her life so completely she’d never have even figured out how to put on makeup if it wasn’t for YouTube. Even then, she’d only had the patience to watch the videos long enough to figure out how to pick a foundation shade and not stab herself in the eye with mascara.

  “It didn’t take you nearly this long to pack my clothes.” Random stepped into her bedroom.

  “I thought I told you to stay downstairs.”

  “I got bored. It’s not like I’ve never seen your room before.” He frowned. “Though I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in this state. Did a tornado blow through here?”

  Valkyrie grabbed the pile of tank tops off the floor and shoved them into her suitcase. She turned back around in time to see Random picking her bra off the floor. One of her actual bras, not a sports bra. It dangled lazily from his index finger as he held it out to her, a grin teasing at the corners of his lips.

  Well, if he hadn’t realized she had no boobs to speak of before, he certainly had now. She snatched the lingerie from him and threw it in the suitcase.

  “I hadn’t pegged you as the lace trim type. I do love it when a woman surprises me.”

  She refused to blush. She was too damn old to blush. “It was on sale,” she said shortly.

  He stepped closer, and his eyes took on that interested smolder capable of destroying women the world over. “Was anything else lacy on sale?”

  The matching underwear had been, as a matter of fact. “Why do you care?” she asked.

  “Just gathering information. Would Random Tremayne really take a woman to dinner if he couldn’t tell you what her underwear looked like?”

  “You’d be more likely to know than I would.”

  “That’s just the thing though. I don’t. Never taken a woman dinner before.”

  As if. “I don’t believe you’ve never eaten dinner with a woman.”

  “Eating dinner with a woman is much different than taking a woman to dinner. I’ve done the former plenty. Never bothered with the latter.”

  “Then we’d better hope we both manage to convincingly fake it.”

  “Indeed.” He stepped closer. Too close. Whatever aftershave he wore smelled like it was probably named something like Waterfalls and Sin. It made her want to bury her face in the curve of his neck and breathe him in. “Which is why we should probably practice.”

  “Practice what?” He shouldn’t be allowed to stand this close to her. It screwed with her head.

  “Kissing.”

  Her gaze had been burning a hole in his collarbone, but it snapped up to meet his, now, and that was a mistake. His dark brown eyes held a touch of heat, and she couldn’t help but note that the two of them were conveniently right next to a bed.

  “I don’t need to practice. I know how to kiss you.” I’d really like to do it right now.

  “I’m not sure you do. The first time we kissed, you broke my nose. The second time, you jumped me. The third time, you destroyed my soul. I’d like to know that if I need to kiss you tonight, none of those things will happen, as none are appropriate for public consumption.”

  Yes, her body agreed, let’s practice. “In what scenario do you envision us actually needing to kiss?”

  “Let’s see, you and me on a date? It’s a hard pill for most to swallow. You’d be surprised what a well-placed parking lot kiss can do for the credibility of a fake date. So may I?” He lifted his hand, brushed the backs of his fingertips along her cheekbone.

  Yes, she wanted to say, yes, you definitely may. “It isn’t necessary. I can guarantee none of the previous reactions will occur.” Which was a complete lie. Oh, she could guarantee she wouldn’t punch him. She could also guarantee she wouldn’t destroy his soul, because that was an exaggeration. He was prone to those where she was concerned. It was his pride she’d destroyed, and she could avoid doing so again.

  No, it was the not-jumping-him outcome she couldn’t guarantee wo
uldn’t happen again. Because when he touched her, she never wanted him to stop.

  “Perhaps I need to be convinced,” he murmured.

  Perhaps she needed to convince herself. “Fine.”

  She kissed him. She’d intended for it to be a brief, dispassionate action, but the second her lips touched his, he came alive. His mouth met hers hungrily. His hands settled on her waist and she stupidly wrapped hers behind his neck, let her fingers bury themselves in the soft silk of his hair. His tongue parted her lips, thrust inside her.

  She wanted to press her body against his, to arch into his touch like a satisfied cat. She wanted to rip his clothes off and throw him on the bed, to have him beneath her. The thought almost made her moan, but she couldn’t do that. If she did, he would know exactly what affect he had on her. He would know she wanted him, and she’d never be able to resist him if he was hellbent on giving himself to her.

  Sex was what Random did.

  She broke the kiss and leaned back against the hold he had on her waist. She held her breathing steady, held his gaze, which had gone from heated to a full-on bonfire.

  “As promised,” she said, her voice even and cool. “I haven’t harmed you, fucked you, or said anything cruel.”

  The warmth in his eyes dimmed. His hands dropped from her sides and he stepped back, brushing his hands off on his shirt. Brushing her off, she thought.

  “Wonderful. I’m glad that’s settled.”

  She felt anything but settled, but she said, “Me too.”

  “I’ll let you finish packing. Meet you in the car.”

  He turned and walked out. Slowly, casually, and without even a hint of the aching need that rampaged through her.

  Walking out of Valkyrie’s room was the hardest thing Random had ever done. What the hell had he been thinking? Kiss me, Kyrie, prove it doesn’t mean anything.

  She hadn’t been able to hide the desire in her eyes, no matter how calmly she had spoken to him. Not that it mattered. So what if she wanted him? She clearly didn’t want to want him. Just because her body wanted to fuck his didn’t mean she did, and he didn’t want her body. Well, he did, he just didn’t want only her body. He wanted her. Kyrie.