"Seriously, what's his deal?" I prod Rhyland.
Rhyland, in all his Viking glory, stands there with his arms crossed over his chest like he's posing for a Norse god calendar shoot. He gives Erik a quick once-over beforeresponding, "He'll live, Angel. The wards are hitting him hard, just like they're hitting me. It's not every day we're stripped of our powers."
Well, that's reassuring.
Not.
But I guess if Rhyland's not worried, I shouldn't be either. Right?
"Like I said," Bryn continues, "the wards affect everyone differently." She gives me a half-smile that's about as warm as a polar bear's ass. "I never thought I'd actually meet you. But... I'm glad you're here."
Talk about a ringing endorsement.
"Bryn! Your turn!" A voice rings out across the training ground.
"On my way!" Bryn calls back before turning to me with an apologetic shrug. "Let me finish this round, then we can talk somewhere that won't freeze your ass off."
I manage a weak "Yeah, sounds good" while my brain misfires from social awkwardness. Here I am, DNA scientist extraordinaire, reduced to monosyllables like a nervous teenager. But can you blame me? Twenty-eight years of wondering about my biological family, of checking "unknown" on medical history forms, of loving my adoptive parents but constantly feeling that genetic void—and now I'm face-to-face with actual blood family. My sister. A living, breathing piece of my biological puzzle.
After one final glance at Erik (who's still doing his best impression of a malfunctioning robot), I turn my attention to the ring. Bryn strides in like she owns the place, all warrior confidence.
Time to watch my sister—words I never thought I'd get to say—then hopefully some quality bonding time. Preferably somewhere with central heating.
Rhyland
27
I'm trying to focus on Bryn as she squares up against some Valkyrie built like a fucking tank, but Erik's got me distracted. Something's off with my brother, making my predator instincts go haywire. The moment we passed those gates, everything went sideways—my power crackling beneath my skin like a caged storm, my vampire strength... gone.
It was like getting kicked in the nuts by a giant, but then the feeling passed.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask, sidling up to Erik.
He brushes me off like I'm some annoying gnat. "I've already informed you—nothing requires your concern." His refined tone carries that stick-up-his-ass quality I know too well.
Bryn executes a perfect leg sweep that sends her opponent face-first into the snow. "Bullshit," I growl. "I'm handling this power drain just fine. What's got you all antsy?"
Erik releases one of his patented long-suffering sighs. "I'm perfectly fine, brother. The transition was merely... unexpected."
Lying bastard. I grab his arm and drag his ass away from where Dani's watching her sister demolish the poor fucker in the ring. "Erik." I lock eyes with him, but those silver orbs narrow back at me in a challenge.
Then I hear it.
No. No fucking way. Erik won't meet my gaze now as the truth hits me like a sledgehammer to the face. I scan our surroundings, trying to piece together this mystery, but my attention snaps back to the ring as Bryn unleashes an unholy war cry.
She moves like a force of nature, spinning through the air like some deadly ballerina before landing a kick that would shatter mortal bones. Her opponent barelyblocks the strike before Bryn follows up with a combination that's pure poetry in violence—elbow strike to the jaw, knee to the ribs, then a throw that sends the other Valkyrie flying across the ring like a ragdoll.
The other Valkyrie gets up while Bryn's back is turned and bulldozes into her like a goddamn freight train, taking them both down in an explosion of snow and grunts.
Erik's growl is so low I almost miss it, but that sound tells me everything I need to know.
Holy shit.
"Don't," Erik warns, his refined tone carrying a lethal edge that would make lesser men piss themselves.
I drag my hand down my face, scratching my beard like it holds the universe's secrets. "Why the hell not? She can handle—"
"No." Erik's voice cuts through my words like Grave Warden through flesh, those silver eyes promising violence if I finish that sentence. The stick up his ass has officially become a tactical pole.
