"And you believed in this holy cause?" Her voice carries a warrior's understanding of battle yet challenges my past convictions.
"At first. Seven years later, I saw what 'holy war' truly meant. Women and children were slaughtered in the name of God. Cities burned. Atrocities committed under the banner of righteousness." The memories taste like shit. "I began to question everything I'd been taught to believe."
"So what happened?" She leans forward, her breath ghosting across my cheek. "How did the righteous knight become the vampire?"
Her proximity makes my stomach clench. "Siege of Jerusalem. I'd stopped fighting for God by then—fought only to protect my remaining men. One of them, a boy barely sixteen, took an arrow meant for me. As I carried him to safety, a Saracen blade found my back." I touch the spot where the sword had pierced my heart. "I lay dying in the dirt, choking on my own blood when a shadow fell over me. She called herself Lilith. Said she'd been watching me, admiring how I'd evolved from blind religion to questioning everything. She offered a choice—die there in the sand or rise as something new."
"And you chose to rise," Bryn's voice holds no judgment, only understanding.
"Death held no fear for me. But I had men still alive who needed leadership. So yes, I chose to rise." I meet her gaze finally. "I've spent an eternity trying to atone for the atrocities I committed in the name of faith. Perhaps that's my true curse—living long enough to understand the weight of my sins."
I stare into the flames, memories of blood-soaked sand and burning cities dancing in the fire. Faith had been a constant companion once, as natural as breathing. But watching innocent children slaughtered in God's name, hearing priests justify rape and torture as divine will—it broke something fundamental inside me. How could a merciful God demand such barbarism? The questions plagued me like festering wounds, each atrocity I witnessed another nail in faith's coffin.
The cross I'd worn became heavier with each passing day until it felt like a noose around my neck. I'd knelt in blood-spattered churches, begging for answers that never came. In the end, I didn't lose my faith—I buried it alongside countless innocents in shallow desert graves.
"Atoning for your sins?" Bryn's voice cuts through my dark musings, that playfulness softening into something more profound. "Seems to me you've spent a long time punishing yourself for following orders that weren't yours. The real monsters were the ones giving those commands, not the warriors who had to carry them out." Her eyes lock onto mine with startling intensity. "Sometimes the most honorable thing a warrior can do is question the cause they serve."
Her words strike deeper than any blade, piercing through carefully constructed walls. I turn to face her, fighting against the magnetic pull of her presence. "Honor?" A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Honor died in the sand. What remained was..." I pause, studying how the firelight catches the gold in her right eye. "Survival. Purpose. The need to ensure such blind devotion never claims more innocent lives."
"And yet here you are," she counters, "protecting my sister, fighting for a cause greater than yourself. Seems your honor survived more intact than you'd like to admit."
I allow myself a moment of weakness, letting my gaze trace the curve of her jaw. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I've grown better at choosing my battles."
"And this battle?" She gestures between us, her meaning clear. "The one where you're trying so hard to maintain that stone wall of yours?"
The metal protests beneath my grip, threatening to buckle. "Some walls exist for good reason, Little Bird." The endearment slips out before I can catch it, a moment of weakness I instantly regret.
"Don't." Her voice carries steel and storm. "I'm not your 'Little Bird' or anyone else's." She snatches the horn, drinking deeply before fixing me with a glare that could freeze Hell. "And while we're clearing the air, I don't need you playing hero every time a fight breaks out. I've been slaying monsters since before you picked up your first sword. I'm a fucking Valkyrie, not some helpless maiden waiting for a knight to rescue her."
Irritation floods my veins, hot and sharp. "Forgive me for thinking a warrior might appreciate battlefield support. Next time, I'll stand back and applaud while you take on an entire army alone." My voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "Because that's worked out so well for you recently."
Her eyes flash with deadly promise, the dual colors blazing. "Glad we understand each other."
I clench my fists until my knuckles whiten, jealousy and regret warring in my chest. "Or perhaps it's just my aid you find so offensive. You seemed perfectly content accepting help from that Viking bastard this morning." The words escape like poison, and I hate myself the moment they leave my lips. The memory of her in his arms turns my stomach and makes my fangs ache with possessive rage. But I have no right to that anger, no claim to her choices.
Bryn rises in one fluid motion, power radiating off her like a storm about to break. "What I do, and who I choose to do it with," she snaps, with lethal sweetness, "is absolutely none of your fucking business,vampire." She spits the last word like a curse before stalking away, her wings rigid with fury.
I drag a hand down my face, cursing my loose tongue. Lifetimes of careful control are shattered by jealousy and mead. The memory of her anger—gods, even her rage is beautiful—sends heat straight to my growing cock. I shift uncomfortably, my leather pants suddenly too tight, too constraining. My body's reaction to her only proveshow far I've fallen, how deeply this mate bond has already taken root despite my efforts to deny it.
Brilliant work, Erik. Truly masterful diplomacy.
Danica
34
The snow crunches beneath Gullfax's hooves as we trudge through the icy wilderness, the biting wind nipping at any exposed skin. Bryn, Erik, and Heimdall flank us on either side, their steps sure and steady despite the treacherous terrain. Behind us, Baldr rides Sleipnir, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble.
Rhyland's arms tighten around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. The unmistakable evidence of his desire presses insistently into my lower back, and I can't help but roll my eyes at his one-track mind.
"Hey, Lightning Rod," I quip, my breath fogging in the frigid air. "Could you keep your 'sword' in its sheath for a bit? It's getting a little distracting."
Rhyland's deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cold. "Maybe if you stopped playing hard to get, Angel," he grumbles, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I wouldn't be so tempted to 'sheath' it elsewhere."
I let out an exaggerated sigh, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. "Sorry, babe, but your sword privileges got revoked when you joined the Secret-Keepers Anonymous club. Maybe try sharing with the class next time."
Rhyland's growl vibrates through my body, his voice low and dangerous. "You can't resist me forever, Angel." He punctuates his words by yanking me tighter against his muscular chest, forcing a small grunt from my lips as Gullfax maintains his steady pace through the snow. "I have my methods. Or did you forget how persuasive I can be when I want something?"
I open my mouth for what would have been a brilliant comeback, but Bryn's sharp "Shh!" cuts through the tension like a knife. We all freeze, the playful moment evaporating instantly as we strain to listen.
