by Jane Cousins
It was a question Stephanie couldn’t answer since she’d never been in love before. Though surely it wouldn’t feel like this. A spectrum of uncomfortable feelings that came and went like waves smashing against the shoreline. Accompanied by a roiling, heated churning in her gut every time a gorgeous Demoness looked at Galen with avarice in her eyes.
Hmmm, perhaps she was just feeling competitive. Valkyries liked to win. There was nothing more satisfying than claiming a trophy. Yet that didn’t explain why she found him so amusing. Looked forward to seeing him. Hated when he walked away from her. Even though the rear view was magnificent and she too often found herself fighting the urge to bite that delectable, muscular ass of his. To mark him… to… blast, she was definitely feeling territorial when it came to Galen.
But she wasn’t in love with him. No. Absolutely not.
Thankfully Welst said something that snapped Stephanie to attention, and she was forced to push aside all the ridiculous and unhelpful feelings that assailed her and that she didn’t understand.
“Yeah, you should really consider my offer. After all, in the very near future everything’s going to change, isn’t it?” Welst’s thin lips lifted into what was a very satisfied, arrogant smile.
“Change?” Stephanie fought to keep a frown off her face, instead batting her baby blues several times in clear confusion. “Why would anything need to change?”
Welst tugged at the high collar of his doublet. “Well, he’s on the matrimonial path. About to tie the knot. I can’t imagine any future wife of his wanting Galen’s secretary to be working so up close and personal with her mate, magically melded or not.”
“Oh, yes.” Now that familiar awful jabbing feeling had joined the roiling in her gut. “Say. Did you see that Guard go stabby yesterday at the beach party? I’m surprised you didn’t jump in with your sword and save the day.”
“I heard all about it. Unfortunately, my mother had called a meeting of the trade delegation. We were all safely tucked away in the grand conference room.”
Safely… Stephanie couldn’t help but think that was an important choice of words to use. Yes, the Queen, her son, and all their important trading partners had been absent. Though it had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? After all, the Guard had shown no symptoms of Knustabber. Why, the greatest risk at the party had been Galen turning stabby. Though thankfully he had rock solid control.
“Funny.” Stephanie thought back over the attendees at the beach party, not sure why, but one individual in particular had caught her eye. “I thought I saw one of the Queen’s Shaman there.”
“Oh, those creepy dudes? They’re always skulking about. Turning up one moment. Disappearing the next.”
That might be true, but Stephanie had the distinct impression that the Queen’s three pets were kept on rather short leashes. That they didn’t go anywhere without Laynn’s knowledge. So if the Queen hadn’t been at the beach party, why had one of her mystical dogsbody been there? To watch? To report? Something more sinister? And if they were so magical and all that, why hadn’t they stepped forward and subdued the stabby Guard?
Hmmm, she had a feeling she had gotten all the information she could out of Welst. Time to make a hasty exit before the Demon began drooling down her top. “Well, I’d better get back to the suite. Galen’s no doubt waiting to give me another round of dictation. So dedicated. So relentless. It’s a challenge for me to keep up with him sometimes.” Yeah, make of that what you will, Wanker. Stephanie fluttered a few fingers Welst’s way, waving goodbye, before bouncing off.
She had a vague… very vague idea of what might be going on here, though it seemed too Machiavellian and sinister to be true. The question was, how was she going to prove her theory? More troubling, even if she was right, how was she going to save Galen from having to go through with a forced melding in order to avoid turning Berserker?
Heavens, why… why were those jabbing pains in her gut coming hard and fast now at the idea that her time with Galen was about to come to an end? Every jab seeming to represent the second hand of a countdown clock. Turn stabby or marry? Either way she would lose him. Grrr, Stephanie really, really hated to lose.
Yeah, that was it, all these horrible emotions practically swamping her meant she was nothing more than a bad sport. Because if that wasn’t the reason she was feeling so dreadful, then there was only one other possible explanation… and she absolutely had no idea had to deal with the fact that she might… just might, mind you, be in love with Galen Darvyn.
Damn, she knew she should have skewered his brain the moment she laid eyes on the big, gorgeous lug.
Chapter Eighteen
If you’d asked Galen how he’d be spending his final days on this Realm, he might have guessed a non-stop sex marathon with a gorgeous Valkyrie. He was darn sure he wouldn’t have said paperwork. Yet, here he was adding client notes and instructions for the lawyers who would be picking up his workload once he’d shuffled off this plane and gone on to the fiery great below.
And you know what? He didn’t mind. Seriously. Because the view from his desk, well, it was glorious. Stephanie was sprawled on her stomach across their bed. All her focus on the laptop screen in front of her as she watched gory footage of the Western Front, and ate popcorn.
She made quite the picture in tight white short-shorts and a pink gingham tank top. Her bare feet idly swinging back and forth unconsciously as she hooted, hollered and yes… snort laughed occasionally.
Galen couldn’t believe that just watching her, it made him happy, to see her happy. Which, he realised is all he ever wanted for her now. To have a long and happy life, even if he couldn’t be a part of it.
“You know. You never did tell me what you are conflicted about?”
“Hmmm.” Stephanie tapped a button to freeze the screen, rolling to her side. Damn, the Demon was looking urbane and all kinds of sexy in black trousers and a silky olive green shirt. The sight of him made her heart race and stomach tense in anticipation. Stephanie tamped down on the sudden urge to touch him and not stop. Get yourself under control, Valkyrie. There were no social events scheduled in the Palace this evening and she was determined to spend their free time conducting research to support her theory. “What was that?”
“That conflict you’ve internalised. I was wondering if you are ever going to share what it is? I am kind of an expert in it, after all. If you needed some advice or a fresh perspective, maybe I could help?”
“No, I’m good.” She turned back to the screen, hitting the fast forward button. Jumping ahead a few decades before hitting play. Unfortunately, she couldn’t settle, all too aware of Galen’s attention still directed her way. Hitting the stop button, she rolled to the side once more. “You’re going to be a pain about this, aren’t you?”
Galen didn’t bother to reply, the edges of his lips quirking upwards answer enough.
“Oh, fine. Such a nosy Demon. If you must know, for the past decade or so, as a Battle Valkyrie, I’ve been a little… dissatisfied.”
Galen was honestly surprised. “I would never have guessed. You certainly speak about going into battle as if you love it.”
“I do… or I did. It’s not the fighting I’m having qualms about. Well, it is and it isn’t.” Grrr, just thinking about all the small irritants and missteps being made by Corporate, it made Stephanie want to grind her teeth. “I love warfare, don’t get me wrong. Problem is, more and more over the last few years my hands have been tied due to Management. Suddenly the schedule is full of nothing but ridiculous corporate events. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Bonding exercises. We’re barely allowed to maim anyone anymore, let alone kill them. Paint ball is a bonding exercise, not battling a Battalion of Valkyries.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And it’s not just that.” Now that Stephanie had begun to unload, she couldn’t seem to stop. “Suddenly all our suppliers are half-assing it. Yet no one in Legal or Accounting is cracking down or doing any quality control audits. The meat i
s fatty. The sheets thin and scratchy. Don’t even get me started on the towels. Worse, there’s a whole raft of management initiatives that are just silly. Assigning campsite management in alphabetical order, so everyone takes a turn? Madness. I love my Sisters. Every one of them can battle until the sun goes down, but when it comes to organising food, ale and a camp set up? Some are just completely useless.”
“A-huh.”
“Some of my Sisters love camp managerial duties. Bickering with the supply staff. Riding roughshod over the transport and set up crews. They live for that shit. So why not just ask for volunteers? It’s like Management don’t even care anymore. Take Legal - who really need a good kick up the ass - they could totally use someone in charge who’s a take no nonsense firebrand. Accounting is another Department that could use a good group slapping. I don’t get why they aren’t making clients pay extra levies for stuff like buffing out fingerprint smudges and drool from our armour.”
“Mmmm-huh.”
“It’s not like I’m saying ditch the corporate events. Just make those engagements short and sweet. You know, the market we should really be tapping is the Deities. The Gods. The Goddesses. They’re always at each others throats, battling over stupid stuff that a good old fashion battle could help resolve. Plus, they are always getting their shit stolen. Who better to get it back for them than a Battalion of Valkyries? Right? Right! Don’t even get me started on the quests, challenges, and contests they have going on. Who better to step up as their champion than a Valkyrie?” Stephanie realised she might have been getting a little loud there towards the end, but she was finding Galen’s lack of input to be annoying. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Seriously? I’ve just unloaded a whole ton of my crap on you and all you can do is sit there and nod your head like a bobble doll?”
“You don’t need me to say anything, sounds like you have a three-point plan already locked and loaded for when you take over. Better conditions for the Battle Valkyries will win their support, smart move. Re-vamp Legal and Accounting, which will put the fear of Stephanie into everyone at Headquarters, a savvy manoeuvre. Lastly, source new untapped markets for clients. Which will not only bring in more work and increase your profit margins, but increase employee job satisfaction as you reduce your reliance on corporate events.”
Stephanie heard every word Galen said but her brain had kind of stuttered on one particular sentence. “I am not taking over. Me, go into Management? Please. I’m a Battle Valkyrie, born and bred.”
“You said it yourself, you’re unhappy with the status quo.”
“I said I was dissatisfied.”
“Okay, then. Don’t stage a corporate coup, just carry on as you are. Turn up, sing happy birthday to some sleazy schlep, then spend the next four weeks knocking him and his friends around the battlefield. Keeping the violence to a minimum of course, in case one of your clients stubs a toe and sues you for everything you have.”
Grrr, Stephanie hated the picture he painted, but still, her in Management? “No. Just no.”
Galen shrugged casually. “Fine, don’t do anything to improve conditions for yourself or your Sisters. These types of problems, they are bound to take care of themselves eventually, right?”
“I will not be manipulated into doing something I do not wish to do.”
“Hey, all I’ve done from the beginning of this conversation is agree with you. Don’t give me the blue eyed glare of death for being on your side.” Damn, he loved that fierce look focused his way, it made him think of stripping her bare and kissing every inch of her, starting with those luscious lips.
Stephanie was suddenly wildly horny as Galen’s ink black gaze sizzled with heat. Yet, the direction of his gaze, on her lips, it also made her very uncomfortable. Made her think of kissing. Reminding her of how vulnerable such an act made her feel. Especially considering she didn’t know exactly how she felt about the gorgeous Demon sitting across from her. And she certainly didn’t want him to know that she was… teetering on the edge of being… having feelings for him.
Wrenching her gaze away from Galen was surprisingly difficult, thankfully there was a frozen image on the laptop screen that caught her attention.
“Who is that?” She stabbed a finger at the screen depicting a hulking blood and mud splattered Conflict Demon, frozen in the act of tearing one of the Morghdorn Horde into two separate pieces. The Demon’s mouth wide open, caught in mid cry, his eyes unfocused, filled with nothing but blind all-encompassing rage. He wore ragged black pants, with no shirt, his broad chest showcasing multiple healing wounds and several badly oozing cuts. What had caught Stephanie’s eye though was the three glittering stars that appeared stapled into the Demon’s flesh above his heart.
Galen stared intently at the screen, trying to see past the layers of mud, blood and matted grime. “I believe that’s my Uncle Flagstaff.”
Flagstaff, Stephanie had heard that name before somewhere, where? “What’s up with the stars?”
Galen grimaced. “They are honorary. Being a Prince and all, my aunt had him designated Leader of the Berserker Battalion. He has an incredible kill rate. So the title is somewhat deserving. Even if he is incapable of giving any actual commands or any of those poor bastards capable of following them.”
“He features heavily in the footage I’ve seen so far. How long has he been fighting?”
“Flagstaff? Pretty much since the beginning of the conflict... I think.”
“How many are there now?” Stephanie had been trying to keep a rough count but the media footage was edited a little roughly and all those grimy, blood soaked, stabby Demons sort of looked alike.
Galen shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe five, perhaps six hundred.” He glanced once more at the frozen image of his Uncle and looked away, hoping he wasn’t looking at his own future in a few short weeks.
“You said you lot don’t get off watching this footage… I mean, that you Conflict Demons can’t feed from it. So why is there so much media coverage? There has to be thousands of hours available here. Who is watching it?”
“No idea. Perhaps Laynn uses it to keep the Court mollified that we are holding the line.”
Hmmm, Stephanie stared at the look of blind rage caught on Flagstaff’s frozen face. “What did you do with them… those that turned stabby before this conflict started?”
Galen frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe discreetly killed them? Though you would think our history would be littered with bloodbaths if that were the case. When they turn, things get very nasty, very quickly.”
“What are the odds, of a male being triggered prior to claiming?”
“Roughly one in every two hundred.”
“And how many of your brethren have gone down the forced meld path to avoid turning stabby?”
“Um… maybe just over a hundred. For most it’s not an option, unless they are wealthy or connected.”
Stephanie considered the numbers of Berserkers she’d been watching on the screen and did the math in her head. “These numbers don’t add up. If what you are saying is true, and they are all but impossible to kill, then there should be a heap more Berserkers around. Instead, with the numbers I’ve seen in the footage, I’m calculating that your unmated males only commenced turning stabby roughly… seven hundred years ago.”
“That… can’t be right.” Galen was having trouble concentrating all of a sudden.
“What about when your father was young, or his father, did they mention friends or relatives turning stabby?”
“I…” Galen frowned, losing his train of thought.
Stephanie grew concerned, Galen appeared to be struggling to form words, it was unlike him. “Is there a list somewhere of the Berserkers?”
“There must be some sort of record. Though if there is, I’ve never seen it.” That was strange, wasn’t it? Those poor creatures should be honoured, memorialised. “You know, it’s funny… if you asked me to name the last few Demons who turned stabby, othe
r than the Guard on the beach, I don’t think I could.” What the Hell was going on? His head throbbed in pain the more he tried to get his thoughts in order.
“This war you are fighting, against the Morghdorn Horde, when did it start?”
Galen opened his mouth to answer, but no sound would emerge. That was fucking weird.
“Okay. Forget that question. How about this one. You’ve always shared a border with the Morghdorn, was there tension before Laynn’s reign?”
Galen was pleased to discover that his voice had returned. “No. In fact, I remember one of my great-aunts telling me that the Morghdorn were peaceful, forest dwellers, literally tree huggers. She always wondered what could have happened to turn them into that.” Both their gazes shifted to the screen. The Morghdorn Flagstaff was in the process of tearing apart was a sleek, spiky creature, its dark skin hard and shell-like. From head to toe the creature was a series of shifting shades of brown and black that intermingled. It had large eye sockets, but no apparent eyes. It hands and feet tipped with vicious looking long claws, like you might find on a large bird.
“Tell me about your aunt’s Shaman pets?”
Galen frowned at the abrupt change in topic. “What about them?”
“Who are they? Are they Conflict Demons with magic? Is that a thing?”
Galen grimaced, no words would come. He looked at Stephanie in frustration. “I…” He struggled, his throat felt uncomfortably tight. Swallowing hard, he tried again. “Th…” But nothing would come.
“Hmmm, interesting. Okay, nix that question. Seems like your aunt’s pets have all sorts of secrets going on and they want to keep it that way. Let’s try this. There are three of them? Just nod or shake your head.”
Galen nodded.
“Are they Conflict Demons?”
Galen shook his head and then added a shrug.
“How long have they been in this Realm?”
Galen held up seven fingers.
