What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  “It is? Please enlighten me.” Stephanie kept her hatchet perfectly steady, the tip of the spike on top levelled right at the Demon’s eye. If she didn’t like his answer, the skewering could commence.

  “Spoils of war.”

  She blinked, frowning. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s clearly laid out in the contract I was made to sign before entering this plane.”

  “You read the contract?” The six-hundred and thirty-five page contract that they made all participants sign?

  “Of course. An according to section eighty-two, clause twenty-six, sub clause nineteen; if the opposing combatant, in this particular instance, you, breeches the enemy camp. You are within your rights to subdue, steal or appropriate spoils of war.” Galen grinned. “Consider me suitably subdued and claimed, Valkyrie.”

  Yes, it was like a missing puzzle piece had been inserted somewhere deep inside him. He wasn’t out of the stabby woods just yet, but damn, things were lining up. Good fortune was finally smiling his way.

  Stephanie made a sound that was half derisive snort, half amused chortle. Pushing away from the crazy Conflict Demon she disappeared her hatchet. Just her luck, Gorgeous was drunk and insane. “That particular clause relates to bounty and in the rare case, livestock, not you.” She began to swim backwards away from the lunatic. But all he did was sit there, continuing to grin. “Well?”

  Galen couldn’t help himself, he’d found his mate, or rather she’d found him. Even the legalities of the situation were beginning to line up. The contract of engagement hadn’t gone into specifics when it defined spoils of war. He tried to come up with an appropriate response to let the Valkyrie know she didn’t have a legal leg to stand on and only one came to mind. “Moo.”

  Chapter Four

  “Crazy. Mad. Lunatic. Cracked in the head. Whack job. Flat out bonkers.”

  Galen crossed his legs, leaning back in the comfy, wide, red velvet armchair, enjoying the show. His Valkyrie had been working hard trying to clear the rocks, boulders and debris from the cavern entrance and muttering away to herself for almost an hour now. Failing to make much of a dent.

  When she first began attacking the pile he attempted to tell her that the tunnel to access this cavern was a good mile long, but she’d forbidden him from speaking with the menacing flash of a war hatchet and a narrowed, blue eyed glare.

  So he’d done what she asked.

  Dressed in black trousers, matching shirt and black boots, Galen waited, taking the occasional sip of whiskey. Watching on with avid interest, as his gorgeous companion tackled the rock fall that must have occurred whilst he’d been bellowing out his pain.

  He’d made several further attempts at conversation since she’d begun her self-imposed task, but all his Valkyrie had done was pick up the nearest rock, gauge its weight thoughtfully and then stare at him until he fell silent. He was darn sure she had a superb and accurate throwing arm. He contented himself with just sitting there, admiring the way her yellow t-shirt clung to full curves, and how her khaki short-shorts hugged her tight, ripe ass every time she bent over.

  He didn’t know how or where the Valkyrie had gotten the new clothes from but he found himself liking this casual number as much as the skimpy bikini. But then he had a feeling the woman would look good in anything she chose to wear. It wasn’t just the curves she totally owned, but an air of confidence that she exuded that blatantly let you know she couldn’t care less what others thought of her.

  “Balmy. Demented. Nut job. Bat crap cuckoo. Daft.” Stephanie picked up another rock. Displeased to discover behind it loomed only many more rocks. No sign of light or a whiff of the pungent weed bushes that dotted the desolate wasteland in evidence. She had a horrible suspicion that even if she was to dig for hours, days, she wouldn’t make a dent in the blockage.

  Upon exiting the hot spring chamber she’d made a thorough inspection of the cavern where the Demon appeared to be making camp. What an impressive space it was. Large. Far from dank. With a reassuringly high ceiling. A multitude of hurricane lamps lining the walls providing plenty of soft light. The bare floors were covered with thick, soft, colourful rugs. Towards the back there was a king-sized bed with a sturdy, black, wrought iron frame. In the centre of the cavern was a gleaming square wooden table, on either side of which sat two large, red velvet armchairs.

  There was even a small kitchen area off to the right. How the fully stocked refrigerator was being charged was a mystery. The wine rack next to the fridge was stacked full of nothing but bottles of whiskey. Whilst past the kitchen was a door that led to a large, working bathroom, the walls and floor lined with smooth, black stone. There was a massive shower area and a cupboard full of expensive toiletries for both men and women and most annoying of all, a stack of incredibly soft, fluffy bath towels.

  No stiff or scratchy linens for the Conflict Demons.

  “Are you just going to sit there and do nothing?” Stephanie threw down a medium sized boulder and turned to glare at her… cavern companion? Self declared spoils of war? Deranged lunatic she was currently forced to share oxygen space with?

  Yeah, definitely the last one.

  “Don’t kill the messenger, but you should probably know that the access tunnel to this cavern is over a mile long. I’m reasonably confident, given the sound of the earlier cave-in, that the entire length is blocked.”

  Stephanie grit her teeth, balling her hands into fists and resting them on her hips. “You couldn’t have mentioned that an hour ago, before I started digging?”

  “I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, not with all the muttering going on regarding my state of mind. Which is fine by the way. No insanity runs in my family… oh, well, there’s my aunt. But it wouldn’t be worth your life to question her mental status.”

  “You… I… Fucking hell. Are you saying we’re trapped down here? Why are you so calm?”

  Galen gestured to the empty red velvet armchair across from his own, reaching over to pour some whiskey into an empty, waiting glass. “Here, have a drink, take a load off.” He bit his tongue rather than smile as the Valkyrie ungraciously stomped across the cavern, collapsed into the armchair and slugged back the contents of the glass.

  Slamming it back down on to the table, she sent a challenging glare the Demon’s way. He leant over and refilled it. This time when Stephanie picked up the glass she sipped at the contents. “Start talking.”

  “The cavern is comfortable and fully stocked. We have whiskey, running water, and thanks to your grand entrance, oxygen. The friend of mine who set this all up knows where I am, eventually he’ll come looking for me.”

  “Eventually? You mean when this ridiculous faux battle campaign is over? That’s over seven weeks away!”

  “A-huh.” Galen raised his glass in a silent toast. Seven weeks trapped in here with this gorgeous Valkyrie. Seven weeks to insinuate himself under her skin. To wear her down. To tempt, tease and if it came to it, trick her into claiming him. That was if he survived the experience, watching as those ocean blue eyes flared with a killing rage. He waited silently, remaining still and calm. Relieved as the Valkyrie slowly relaxed all those tense muscles and her death glare ratcheted down to a slow-burning, watchful, predatory level.

  Stephanie forced down the yearning to separate the Demon’s handsome head from his body and spill his life’s blood. Thankfully, she wasn’t a bloodthirsty, blinkered, killing machine, she was a planner, a thinker. Killing the Demon right now? What would she do with a decomposing Demon corpse stinking up the place, his blood ruining the carpets? Sure, she could use the fridge to store the corpse, but what about all the food?

  Until she found a way out of this hell hole, the Demon would have to remain breathing. Damn it.

  “I’m Galen by the way. Galen Darvyn.”

  And now she knew what name to carve on his tombstone, handy.

  Galen waited, only to be met with silence, his companion looking in no hurry to divulge any personal information as she sipped more
whiskey. “And you are?”

  She meant to say something smart, like Death, or Grim. But those ink dark eyes of his, there was something hypnotic about them, they made her stomach feel strange, fluttery. “Stephanie.”

  “An honour.” And he meant it.

  “What are you doing down here anyway? No stomach for blood letting?”

  “First my mental state. Now you question my ferocity. You really like to kick the tires before you claim a Demon, don’t you?”

  “We’ve gone over this. I’m not exercising my right to spoils of war. It’s antiquated terminology referring to bounty and livestock. The Legal Department need a good slapping. Lazy twats sit around playing World of Warcraft rather than doing their jobs.” She watched as his lips pursed together. “If you moo again, Buttercup, I’ll be back to questioning your mental state.”

  “Legally binding is still binding.”

  Damn it, why did that fluttery feeling in her gut go berserk as Galen’s eyes darkened as he said the word binding, as if he was intimating silken bonds, furry handcuffs and any number of other kinky restraints. He had to be bored out of his brains down here. Any woman falling through a mountain into his hot spring would no doubt be getting the same slick innuendos right at this moment. Grrr, and why did that thought ignite a hot, burning, flash of killing rage in her gut?

  “So, Stephanie.” He savoured the way her name sounded on his tongue. Hmm, but he was betting the Valkyrie would taste even better. “What do you do for kicks, when you’re not on the battlefield?”

  “I train in preparation for the next battle.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “I also care and maintain my armour and hatchets on a regular basis.”

  “What about outside of work? Hobbies? Interests?”

  Stephanie huffed out a short, impatient sigh. “I fight. I train to fight. I drink and carouse with my Sisters in celebration when we win. I don’t knit. Though I can kill a man forty-seven ways with a knitting needle. I don’t garden, unless I have to dig a hole to bury a body. Don’t even get me started on any game that involves a bat and a ball. Why hand out weapons if you aren’t allowed to use them? And who can stand all that whining, crying and yammering on about lawsuits?”

  “So you go out to bars with your fellow Valkyries?”

  Nosy parker. Getting all up in her business with his incessant questions. It was beyond aggravating. Hmmm, which begged an important question, why hadn’t she killed him already? Not because she liked the way the edges of his lips tilted upwards or how the black shirt he now wore clung to hard muscular planes. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

  “Because for the foreseeable future, you and I are stuck down here together. Other than the hot spring, there’s not a lot to do but converse and get to know one another.”

  “There’s the bed.” Stephanie pointed out.

  Galen’s cock went from semi aroused to rock hard solid in less than one point four seconds. Was the Valkyrie saying what he thought… hoped she was saying?

  It wasn’t a bad idea. He wasn’t making much progress getting to know the gorgeous Stephanie with polite chit chat. If they had sex, well, he didn’t like to boast, but it was one of his strengths.

  He’d wow her with his sexual prowess, satisfy the hell out of her. Bada bing, bada boom; she’d be claiming him before the sweat could dry on her skin, he was sure of it.

  Stephanie stood, stretching, her jaw opening wide as a yawn emerged. “Do you snore?”

  “No.” Galen was saddened and more than a little frustrated, from her query he had the distinct notion that sex was not what the Valkyrie had been suggesting.

  “Fight battles while you sleep?”

  “No.”

  He watched as she started walking away from him towards the bed. Intrigued to note as she moved her t-shirt and shorts morphing into a white tank top and matching short-shorts covered with red lips pursed in a kiss. Her hiking boots disappearing completely, leaving her bare foot.

  Rounding the bed, Stephanie pulled back the ridiculously soft sheets and collapsed face first down onto the plush mattress. Oh, now that was luxury. Why couldn’t they have mattress toppers on their cots that were this comfortable? Seriously, if the Supplies Division bought in bulk, surely they’d get a good deal.

  Hmmm, this was as close to heaven as she was likely to get on this campaign. Except, she could sense a Demon looming over her. “What?” She grumbled, opening her eyes to stare up at Galen who looked clearly bemused.

  “That’s my bed, Valkyrie.” No way would he sleep on the hard stone floor, potential mate or not.

  “I’m not stopping you from using it.” Stephanie waved a languid arm towards the right hand side of the bed.

  Galen was surprised. Once he realised that sex was not being offered, he had assumed the Valkyrie was claiming all rights to the only bed available. Yet here she was, casually suggesting they share. Hmmm, he both loved and hated that idea. To lay beside her, for hours on end? Inhaling her unique scent; blood orange, violet and white musk? It might end up being nothing but endless torture, lying there, wondering if her smooth skin was as velvety soft as it looked.

  Although, any number of things could happen in such a big bed whilst two people slept.

  Adjourning to the bathroom to brush his teeth, Galen stared at himself in the mirror above the sink and couldn’t help but grin. Yeah, anything could happen in the wee small hours as two people tussled for the sheets.

  Back in the main cavern he turned the hurricane lanterns down to a dim flicker before removing his shirt, trousers, and boots. Climbing between the sheets wearing only black jockey underwear, he lay back and breathed a deep sigh of relief. His claiming hadn’t occurred as yet but he was pretty sure he’d found his mate. Or, more accurately, she’d found him.

  The symptoms of unmated Knustabber hadn’t exactly dissipated, he was still wracked with impatience, but there was a new, sexual overtone to that feeling. A burning, heated need. His inner Demon clawing at him for a different reason now. It desperately wanted to touch, taste and tease the Valkyrie.

  Make her come a thousand different ways, until she could do nothing but say the words and claim him.

  Yeah, easy for his inner Demon to take this situation down to the most primal, instinctive level. Galen, the lawyer, the man, knew differently. The gorgeous Stephanie wasn’t just any woman; she was a Valkyrie. She couldn’t be overpowered or strong armed into making her claim.

  Though she could be manipulated.

  It seems that his claiming would call for subtly and trickery. It would require all his wits. To seduce without seeming to seduce. Or better yet, convince Stephanie somehow to do the seducing.

  His inner Demon was restless, its impatience leaking through to Galen. Determinedly he fought for control just as he had been doing every day for the past six months. It was frustrating, but the end to this nightmare was in sight. No forced melding. No going stabby. The answer to his prayers was here, lying next to him, so close all he had to do was reach out and touch her. Yes, anything could happen as they vied for mattress space.

  He had barely had that thought when the Valkyrie’s eyes snapped open and she gave him one last death stare from those baby-blues.

  “And don’t get any lecherous ideas. Any digit that touches me during the night gets lopped off. This is your one and only warning.”

  Just as suddenly her eyes snapped shut and her breathing relaxed, signalling deep sleep.

  Galen grinned, he was pretty sure Stephanie wasn’t a mind reader. More than likely she was just all too familiar with how the male mind worked. Hah, but she wasn’t used to how a Conflict Demon, and in particular, a Demon Prince thought.

  This was going to be a challenge. Don’t touch. Don’t annoy the Valkyrie too much or she’d kill him. And somehow, someway, convince her to seduce him. It could be done. It would just require every sneaky, underhanded, devious play he had in his repertoire.

  He couldn’t wait to get sta
rted. Let the claiming campaign commence.

  Chapter Five

  Grrr. Stephanie jabbed at an imaginary opponent and swung her right leg across for a round house blow that would never land. Kicking out, she ducked and then leapt, stabbing and gutting two imaginary foes and decapitating four more. Stab. Stab. Gut. Kick.

  Stephanie twirled her war hatchets in an intricate pattern. Bobbed left. Wove right. Performed a back leg extension and then spun sideways. Slash. Stab. Slash. It was an exceedingly useful motivational tool this morning to envisage that every one of her imaginary foes looked exactly like Galen Darvyn.

  That irritating, annoying, exasperating, aggravating, disturbing Demon. Disturbing? No, she didn’t mean disturbing, that gave him too much credit. She meant perplexing. Yes. Perplexing.

  Having made a study of the male of the species. Stephanie more often than not took advantage of the fact they were ruled by what hung between their legs. It made them a tad simple sometimes, and exceedingly predictable. Frequently reverting to their basest instincts. Which invariably involved a lot of tiresome posturing and chest beating, in a sad attempt to prove how ferocious they could be. Yeah, like a Valkyrie could take that kind of display seriously.

  From her first training session, Stephanie had been taught the male of any species was rather easy to manipulate.

  Flash them a bit of thigh or a glimpse of bodacious bosom, and they were all but drooling and panting. Confused suddenly, unsure if they wished to kill the Valkyrie in front of them or fuck her.

  From personal experience, Stephanie had discovered that men were on the whole useless at multi-tasking. Give them two competing thoughts and they all too often hesitated or pulled their punches. Making them an easy target for a Valkyrie to lop off their head or thrust a sword or two into an exposed gut.

  Demons, especially ones who wore a human visage, were no different than the rest.