Dreams of a Dark Warrior

situation before you stride into his army’s camp as if you own it. Promise me.”
    “Very well.” Regin shrugged into the cloak, then stepped outside, glancing at the darkening sky. A spring storm neared. “Wish me luck,” she said cheerily, leaving Lucia to pluck her bowstring with disapproval.
    Regin set off across the countryside, hurrying through melting ice fields into the forest. She was so eager that she easily outpaced the oncoming storm.
    As she neared Aidan’s encampment, she heard women’s voices among the men’s. Camp wenches, as usual. What bawdy scenes would she come across this time?
    Perhaps Aidan had a bedmate this very night.
    The thought made her claws straighten with aggression.
He vowed to me
. Yet though she would feel betrayed, her desires were growing so intense that she might just toss the woman away and take her place.
    Nay. If he’d broken his oath, she would not gift him with her innocence.
    I have to know. …
At the edge of a central clearing, she leapt into a tree, adjusting her cloak to keep her glow concealed. Around a great fire sat berserkers of every stripe, all with women or jugs of mead or both clasped in their meaty fists.
    Except for one.
    Aidan
.
    He sat off to one side on a long bench, his blond headin his hands. He looked to be squeezing his temples.
    Brandr, that cur, sat beside him with a wench in his lap and one hand up her skirt, fondling her backside. With his other hand, he clapped Aidan on the shoulder. “There will be other leads, friend.”
    “I felt so certain.” He raised his head, revealing a miserable expression. “Last night, I dreamed I’d found her.”
    Regin stifled a gasp at his appearance. Aidan’s striking face was weary, his mien defeated. Yet underneath the signs of the ongoing years, he was still the most beautiful male she’d ever seen.
    Brandr handed him a jug. “Here. Drink this.”
    Aidan pushed it away. “I need a clear head. We ride north tomorrow.”
    “Forget for one night,” Brandr said with an exaggerated slap of the whore’s bottom.
    Aidan scowled at that, then all around at the men groping and the women writhing. He took the jug, turned it up. When he’d emptied it, he swiped his tunic sleeve over his mouth. “Gods, what was that? It burns my throat.”
    “That was the choice spirits! Now follow them with a choice woman.”
    Nay, do not!
    “For once, Aidan.”
    For once?
He truly had kept his vow?
    When Aidan cast him another scowl, Brandr sighed. He lifted the woman to her feet, telling her, “Go pleasure others for this hour. I’ll find you for the next.”
    Once the two men were alone, Brandr said, “Thiscannot go on, Aidan. I am your friend, and I cannot see you like this any longer.”
    “What would you have me do?”
    “Return to being the leader you used to be. For all the gods’ sakes, Aidan,
I
am closer to ohalla than you are, and you’ve half a dozen years of age on me. Forget this obsession. You think of nothing but her.”
    “And can you blame me? Imagine the woman she would be.” He gazed up at the cloudy sky as if picturing her at that moment, and Regin’s heart clenched again. Then Aidan faced Brandr. “Nay, do
not
imagine her.”
    Brandr exhaled. “There are women aplenty in this camp. Women who burn to bed you. Surely you can replace her.”
    “The idea is laughable. As well you know.”
    “I’d take a warm woman in my hands over a cold Valkyrie in my mind.”
    I am not cold!
    “By the way,” Brandr added, “that was enough drink to put down a horse. You’ll be on your face soon. Mayhap you’ll actually sleep a night through.”
    With a snarl, Aidan shot to his feet, then lurched toward a nearby tent.
    “Go to your lonely bed, old man!” Brandr called.
    Brandr and I are going to cross swords one day,
Regin decided. Then she leapt from one limb to another, settling in a tree outside Aidan’s tent. From there, she could spy the dimly lit interior through the outer flap.
    Inside, he angrily ripped off his tunic, displaying broad shoulders and a brawny back that tapered downto narrow hips. As he moved, his muscles flexed beneath smooth tanned skin.
    Magnificent male.
She hissed out a shaky breath at the sight.
    He kicked a shield on the ground, then knocked a tankard from a table. He was like the approaching storm, his ire building as he began to smash his belongings—weapons clanging, wood splintering.
    Regin tilted her head in wonder, frowning at the mortal’s rampage.
    When