Dreams of a Dark Warrior

rest of my life.” Then he froze. Their faces were wet?
    “You’re cryin’, lass?”
    He jerked his head back, brows drawn in confusion.
    She
wasn’t.

FORTY

    N eed to sleep,
Lothaire thought.
To get information about the ring. Time is running out.
    But he cracked open his eyes when the berserker finally emerged from that back exam room. The male looked shell-shocked. His hooded eyes were bleak but glowing as they searched out the fey. When his gaze fell on her, his body coiled with tension.
    At the unmistakable look he was giving her, she stood, her breaths shallowing. “H-how is Regin?”
    “She’ll be fine,” he said, his footsteps unwavering in her direction.
    Ah, but Lothaire wasn’t the only one watching this transpire. Young Thaddeus’s eyes were flickering.
    Without stopping, Brandr grabbed her hand, murmuring low, “Need you. And you need me.”
    She gazed at Thaddeus—who tensed to act, yet didn’t—then followed the berserker as if in a daze.
    When they disappeared into the night, Thaddeus kicked the leg of a table.
    Lothaire exhaled. “You don’t want her anyway. Her blood’s poisonous to our kind. If you bedded her, you would feel the need to drink her. And at your age, youwouldn’t have the control to stop yourself. Is one fuck worth your life?”
    “Why are you even talking to me? You busted my lip earlier.”
    “So I did.”
    Thaddeus glared. “When you hit me, was that like to. … to get me out of harm’s way? Or something?”
    “I did need you out of the way.”
    “You didn’t answer my question,” Thaddeus mum-bled, sinking back down onto the floor, nursing a bottle of Coke.
    “That’s not what you need to be drinking,
paren’
. I saw how you reacted to the scent of the Valkyrie’s blood.” Thaddeus’s fangs had shot longer, and he’d grown hard, squirming in his seat. His expression had been alternately lustful and aghast.
    If Lothaire hadn’t recently gorged on the magister’s high-octane blood, even he might have been affected.
    “I give you a week, maybe two, before you’re driven to bite someone.”
    “I don’t know
how
to… to bite or drink! But you could teach me.”
    “And what could you possibly do in return?” Lothaire waved a negligent hand. “Play football for me? Break in my jeans really well?”
    “At least tell me what else I am.”
    Lothaire didn’t actually
know
. So instead, he said, “Our slate is relatively clean.” But not quite. “You would do well to keep it that way.”
    He didn’t have time to tutor a fledgling vampire. More important developments were afoot.
    Lothaire needed Chase and the Valkyrie together.
    My Endgame demands it.
    If Nïx had been steering the Vertas, he’d just as easily been steering the Pravus—he could see the chessboard so clearly, hundreds of moves ahead. That soothsayer could foresee people’s actions; Lothaire could predict their reactions.
    Now a blood debt from a Valkyrie lay within reach. But first he needed to set two pawns on a path together. So how to get Chase into Regin’s bed? To rekindle their fabled tale?
    Using all my considerable talent, if need be.
    Don’t move a bloody muscle,
Declan commanded himself. The longer Regin slept and healed, the longer he could hold her.
    And right now, he
needed
to hold her. Withdrawal gripped him hard.
    Normally the drugs would leach little by little out of his system. Now they were just
gone,
sucked out by a goddamned vampire.
    Sweat beaded over his skin, and he had to gnash his teeth to keep them from chattering. His legs were restless and tremors racked him, but he fought to keep still, ever careful not to wake her.
    Because the contact with her battled the worst of his symptoms.
    He’d hurt her; she hated him. And still, having her inhis arms soothed him in ways unknown to him before. He’d been dead-on when he’d realized he was seeking this every time he’d planted a needle in his arm.
Never again.
    An hour passed, then two.
    She’d just stirred for the first time when Brandr returned. He was soaked through, appearing in better spirits. He reached for Regin. “She’s healing, her skin knitting already.”
    Her wound was reddened, but it had indeed closed completely. Declan reluctantly released her, his arms cramping as Brandr collected her. “Where are you taking her?”
    Again, the man’s gaze fell to Declan’s uncovered hands, but he didn’t remark upon the scars. “Out with us.”
    “Then put a goddamned shirt on