Having Tove curled up in his arms as he walked down to his rooms was the purest moment of bliss and contentment Zane had ever felt. The son of a vampire earl, his life had never been one of softness or ease, so such moments were rare and highly treasured.

She’d been stiff and wary at first, only relaxing when he’d woven the darkness around them to cover her nakedness. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she’d rested her head on his shoulder and succumbed to his gentle urging into sleep. She dozed as he walked, her breathing slow and regular, with no tension in her curvy frame. If he ignored the fact he held her under with dark magic, he could almost believe that she trusted him to care for her.

The fact he could hold her magically had surprised him. He’d always known he packed more punch than the average vampire when it came to compulsion, but to bring a Valkyrie like Tove under his control… that was unprecedented.

He’d encountered Valkyrie before, of course. If you knew where to look, it was easy to see them while they were out and about collecting souls. Even he could see they were nowhere near as powerful as the woman in his arms though. Lower level warriors perhaps? He didn’t know… it was part of the puzzle that was his little Valkyrie.

The corridors were clear of his brethren. A small smile flirted with the corners of his lips. They wouldn’t risk being anywhere near Tove. It was well known that Valkyrie despised vampires… that their soulless existence was an insult to those who collected souls. He looked down again, fascinated by the way her eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks. She didn’t seem to despise him though… quite the opposite.

Steps slowing as he reached the door to his rooms, he paused for a moment to shoulder it open. She murmured softly in protest at his movement and he smiled, easing her with soft nothings as he shut the door and walked over to the bed.

He placed her gently on the soft surface and stepped back to admire her. She was beautiful. He could spend eternity watching her and call himself a happy man. There was something about her that drew him like a moth to a flame. Something that made even his cold heart ache.

Her hair spread around her head on the sheets like a dark halo. Even in sleep though, she’d turned her head, hiding one side of her face. Temptation ate at him to reach out and turn her chin to reveal what she was so concerned with keeping from him…

He didn’t, allowing her to keep her secrets. They were hers to reveal and he had no right to take that choice from her. His chin lifted slightly, his lips firm with determination. Eventually, she would reveal everything about herself to him. He would know all her secrets—not just those of her body, but those of her heart and mind.

Because he didn’t plan on letting her go. Ever. She’d been his from the moment he’d seen her caught like a fly in a web in that spelled circle.

Naked apart from heeled boots, her pale skin caught the small amount of moonlight from the window. The silvery illumination clung to the luscious curves of her figure like a jealous lover. It highlighted her delicate femininity and reminded him that whatever else they were, she was a woman and he was very much a man. His cock stirred again at the sight of her and at the memory of her body clamped tightly around him.

She was tired though; he’d felt the exhaustion pulling at her when she’d been in the circle earlier. He wouldn’t wake her. He’d let her sleep and simply wonder at her beauty and her sudden arrival in his life.

Gently removing her boots, he lay down and pulled her close. She fit so perfectly against him it was almost as though she’d been made just for him.

With a smile, he covered them both with the satin sheet and settled down to watch his angel sleep.

* * *

Being yanked abruptly out of sleep was not something I was used to. Mostly because I rarely slept, not deeply anyway. I was always one step from full consciousness with a hand on my blades. So to be yanked awake and from a warm place was as disconcerting as fuck. Not to mention it pissed me the hell off.

“Fuck off!” I hissed and reacted (predictably for me) with violence.

Yanking on my arms I slammed my two assailants together, savoring the meaty crack of skull meeting skull as I stepped back and blinked the fog from my brain.

The scene that met my eyes didn’t make any sense. Or rather it made way too much sense. The sort of sense that sent chills down my spine as I looked right into the familiar hard blue eyes of the Valkyrie council leader, Herja.

Tall and whipcord thin, she wore her usual permanent expression of anger and disgust at the world. I didn’t look away. Getting into a staring contest with her was a bad fucking idea, but given her two goons had just pulled me from the bed of a vampire earl, I was fucked six ways to Sunday, in more ways than one.

Herja was the strongest of us, tales of her life used to scare Valk-born girls. She was what we all aspired to be…ruthless, unbeatable in battle, beautiful… the epitome of Valkyrie womanhood. Looking into her face, with it’s even features and perfect skin, I couldn’t help turning my chin a little so the ruined half of mine fell into shadow. I wasn’t ashamed of my wounds, not really, but faced with her cold, perfect beauty… yeah, I have the same insecurities as any woman of any species.

“Want to tell me what you’ve been up to, Tove?” She pronounced my name evenly but I didn’t miss the glance toward my cheek.

Our names are Asgardian in origin, chosen to exemplify our best features. Herja means “devastate,” a well-fitting name she’d chosen for herself after a tragedy years ago, and she certainly lives up to it. She’d once famously left a swathe of destruction through Europe collecting souls for Valhalla…. Those world wars? Fucking gold dust to a soul collector.

My name was a different story. I’d petitioned to change it many, many times but the council had always denied permission. According to their infinite wisdom (aka, they were all dickheads), I deserved to live with it because my own stupidity had rendered it ironic and ill-fitting.

Because Tove? Yeah, it means beautiful, something that I most definitely am not. Not anymore. How’s that for fucking ironic?

I felt my expression tighten, and I lifted my chin. Standing here stark-bollock naked didn’t bother me one iota. Standing stark-bollock naked without a blade in my hand in the middle of a bunch of hardened killers? That bothered the ever loving crap out of me.

“What the hell are you doing here, Herja?”

I didn’t bother answering her question. First, it was bloody obvious what we’d been doing… and second, Herja hated any interspecies “fraternization” with a passion that rivalled the heat of a thousand fiery suns, so her question was a bait. Without making it obvious, I scanned my peripheral vision for Zane.

He was off to one side, slumped half naked between two of Herja’s she-goons. There was blood across his chest, but I wasn’t sure if it was his or belonged to one of the goons. Fear rolled down my spine but I fought it back.

At least he was still alive. That hadn’t been a given. Herja had a lady boner for tracking down and punishing any Valkyrie who got together with any man not Valk-born. A human she’d just about tolerate. Just. Unless she was in a mood. Then all bets were off. And she was in a foul mood most of the time. Generally, the Valkyrie got off with a heavy punishment, but her lover? I’d seen and done some nasty shit in my time, but the stories of what happened to them turned even my stomach.

The sight of Zane like that, unconscious and helpless, hit me deep in the center of my chest. I’d known him less than a day, but the thought of him gone, dead, broke something deep inside me. It was like my heart had been ripped right out of my chest to leave a great, ragged hole. It was the kind of feeling I’d heard those who’d lost their soul mates talk about… those who hadn’t gone mad anyway. But that didn’t make any sense. Zane wasn’t my soul mate. He couldn’t be. He was a vampire.

“I didn’t think I’d see the day when I had to check up on you, Tove.” Herja folded her arms, her expression filled with disgust as she looked at me. “Really? With a filthy vampire?” Her lip curled as she looked me up and down. “Mind you, with your… issues, he was probably the best you could get, but that’s no excuse. You know the law.”

“It’s not a fucking law,” I snapped back, giving the woman next to me the side-eye when she moved as if to grab me. She stopped, dead, worry in her eyes. I turned back to Herja. “It’s just you forcing your own prejudice on the rest of us. Before you took over, there were no issues with interspecies couples amongst the Valkyrie. Were there?”

I might not have been armed, but that didn’t mean I was helpless. And they all knew it. I wasn’t one of the thirteen council members but every one of them in the room knew my bloodline was impeccable… and powerful. My mother had been on the council, and her mother before her, as far back as our records went.

“It’s always been frowned upon.” Herja lifted her chin and glared at me. I was right and she fucking knew it. “We need to keep the bloodlines pure, not tainted with filth like this,” she spat in Zane’s direction.

“Pure?” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. But that’s always been my reaction to stressful situations and, unfortunately, authority (and the reason I’m not on the council). “How about fucking inbred?”

Her expression blanked for a moment and I knew I had her.

“Pure,” Herja hissed again, her eyes wide and more than a little crazy. “Never again will any of our women be forced to endure the touch of base creatures, to be rut upon and forced to bear filthy half-breed bastards. We are Odin’s warriors, divine and incorruptible… the Allfather will ensure our daughters are bred true.”

“Really?” I gaped at her in shock, my mouth running away with me again. I couldn’t help it, not with stupidity like that. “Do you even understand genetics?”

Her response was a snarl, which I took as a yes or that she didn’t care either way. Her next words struck ice and fear into my heart.

“We will remain pure, and those who break the law will pay.” Her gaze flicked to the slumped form of Zane, and the sheer hatred there took my breath away. “He will pay…”

Venom dripped from her voice as the sword slid from the sheath on her back with a rasping sound. Fear held me paralyzed for a moment as I realized that she really meant it. She was about to execute him right there in front of me. Her expression twisted into a rictus of fury, and with malice she stalked toward her prey.

Looking into her face, I realized this was about far more than Zane and me. There was something else going on here…something darker and more dangerous. Rage, fury, malice, resentment and frustration all rolled into one and hardened her expression as she lifted her blade. She wasn’t seeing Zane, that I was sure. Instead, she was somewhere else… seeing someone else.

Shit. My throat closed over, cold fear rolling up my spine. The last thing I needed was this situation getting all mixed up with some crazy vendetta of Herja’s. Whatever Zane was, whatever he’d done, I couldn’t let her do this. I couldn’t let her slaughter him in cold blood.

The psychopomp side of my nature demanded to know why not. I’m a collector of souls, and he was a dead creature… something that shouldn’t be suffered to live.

He’d felt plenty alive enough last night, the little voice in the back of my head argued, and deep down I knew it was true. He played a vampire well, excellently in fact, but he wasn’t one, not really. Whether he knew it or not, there was something else beneath the vamp mask that was vital and alive. The thought of him not being that way anymore… that wasn’t happening. I couldn’t let her kill the man I lo…oh shit, did I love him?

My world stopped dead as emotion burst through the center of my chest like a spear-strike to the heart. It was impossible but I did. I loved him… more than that, my soul resonated with his, with the soul he wasn’t supposed to have.

The soul that would be extinguished by Herja when she killed him and refused him entry to Valhalla as I knew she would. We’re not supposed to. Our place is not to judge souls but simply to shepherd them on to where they’re intended to be, but it’s possible to “lose” a soul. Unanchored to either this plane of existence or the next, it weakens and fades until there is nothing left.

Not. Fucking. Happening.

“Stop!” I threw as much compulsion in my voice as I could, enough to hold a host of Einherjar from Valhalla itself. Herja’s arm stopped in midair, the woman herself frozen as I stepped forward.

Shock reverberated through the room, a murmur going through all Herja’s goons as I held their leader, our leader, in thrall. I ignored them and stepped forward. Inside, the sensible part of my brain screamed blue murder, telling me I was a fucking idiot. Which I was. I’ve always maintained a low profile, shielding my abilities from the Waelcyrie, our battle testers, so that no one was aware of the full extent.

In the cut throat world of Valkyrie politics, believe me, that’s wise. Too many good Valkyrie I knew had met their ends in back alleys somewhere against demons that shouldn’t be loose outside the prison of the third hell.

By stepping out of the shadows, revealing what I could really do, I was totally fucked and I knew it. But screw it. Someone had to stand up to Herja sometime. Although I knew I was dead for this—there were far too many of them here for me to take on alone—I had to do something. Someone had to draw the line against this madness, one that would doom our race into inbreeding and insanity, and it looked like that someone was going to be me. I was a dead Valkyrie walking now, but maybe, just maybe if I could make it all about me, Zane would make it out alive.

In for a penny, in for a fucking pound.

A moment’s concentration, a pull on the power of Valhalla, and I clad myself in armor, blades in my hands. I felt more than heard the whisper of shock that rolled around the room, and even Herja’s eyes widened, about the only body part she could move locked into rictus as she was.

“Stalemate,” I said quietly, stepping up to the woman. I didn’t touch her. Her power was only just contained by my compulsion so anything would break the spell. I figured I only had a short while to get to her before all hell broke loose.

“This isn’t right, Herja, and you know it. End this madness,” I pleaded. “Whoever you think he is, he isn’t… whatever this is about, don’t let the past dictate your future.”

It didn’t work. I knew it wouldn’t as soon as the words left my lips. Her eyes were cold and hard. Too late I realized that they were also calculating. Why I didn’t think and realize that Herja was a sneaky-ass bitch, I didn’t know but… I didn’t. I should have known that she’d have a backup plan. I should have known that I hadn’t escaped the notice of the Waelcyrie and that she’d planned accordingly before facing me.

I’d already started to turn as the pop-pop-pop of transport spells sounded behind me. Fuckers had been hiding, waiting for the right moment to drop in, and the last thing I saw was an armored fist heading for my face.

Then there was nothing but the inky blackness of unconsciousness.