Dreams of a Dark Warrior

Aidan.
    Who for some reason had gutted her in a dirty street.
    He rose, paced, then sat once more. He said nothing, didn’t move, but she knew his gaze was raking over her.
    When she remembered to breathe, he said, “Awake already.” A faint accent tinged his deep voice, but she couldn’t place it. He pulled her hood off.
    She blinked against the low light, noting details as he came into focus. Dear gods, he was big, as tall as the original warlord she’d almost fallen in love with.
    He was dressed all in black, from his jacket and combat pants to his gloves. His skin was pale, stark against the pitch-black hair that hung down past his forehead, partially concealing scars on one cheek. He was middle-aged, probably upper thirties, with a strong jaw, broad cheekbones—and Aidan’s eyes. In this face, they looked cold.
    Though for one brief moment tonight, they’d glowed with a berserker’s light—the telltale sign she’d spied while bleeding out in the street.
    Aidan. She hadn’t imagined it. Hell, she’d been sensing his reincarnation for three decades, had been warned by Nïx for just as long.
    “I have questions for you, Valkyrie.”
    Oh, I’ve got some for you, too. Like why you did a blender on my insides.
    “Answer them truthfully, and you won’t be harmed more this night.”
    This night?
Finally, she nodded. With one gloved hand, he reached for her mouth. With his other, he shoved a cocked pistol against her temple. “I know a gunshot won’t kill you. But it’ll shut you up. Try one of your Valkyrie shrieks, and I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”
    Definitely not an act. Great. Her Viking had come back wrong. She’d figured it would have to happen sooner or later.
Hello, later.
    All the effort she’d gone through to flee from himthese past decades, to spare his current life, was for nothing.
    So why had he captured her? And who were those men with him?
    “Do you understand me, female?”
    When she nodded again, he snatched the tape off, leaving her lips stinging like fire. She bit back a foul curse, growing less freaked and more pissed with each second. Regin’s temper was legendary for a reason.
    “How did your sister Nïx know we’d been following you? And why did she dispatch you to attack my men?”
    “Dispatch?” He must’ve bugged her car! What exactly had he heard? “You know, it was more of a suggestion, like try the prime rib.”
    His pale lips curved into an evil sneer. “Have you ever been shot in the head before? I’ve often wondered what the pain would be like.”
    “I have been, and it hurts,” she answered honestly. “I’ll answer your questions, if you tell me who you are and why I’ve been captured.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I’m Declan Chase.”
    He thought his name was Declan.
But not for long.
    “I work for the Order, a mortal army at war with your kind.”
    “Never heard of ’em.”
I’m screwed.
“Then why have you taken me prisoner? Why not just kill me?” Maybe she was to be a war prize? Then history would repeat itself. She had to bite back a hysterical laugh. “You were coming for me anyway, weren’t you?”
    “You were selected for capture. We also … study unique immortals.”
    Something about the way he said that last part gave her chills. “You mean experiment?”
    “Correct.”
    Yep. Screwed. Her eyes darted around the cargo hold. How the hell could she escape? “And that’s where you’re taking me now? To a jail? Or probably a lab?”
    “We call it a
facility
. Now answer my questions,” he said, his accent growing thicker.
    It was either Irish or lowlands Scot. This Aidan version was Celtic. Before, he’d been a French knight, a Spanish privateer, and an English cavalryman.
    “Nïx knows just about everything,” Regin said. “She’s a soothsayer. In fact, I’m sure she’s already foreseen where you’re taking me. I don’t know why she wanted me to attack your men.”
Unless she
planned
for me to get captured.
Knowing Nïx, she probably considered all this a date that she’d set up between Regin and Aidan. “With her, I usually don’t ask.”
    “We’ll discover it on our own anyway.” The muzzle pressed harder against her temple. “Tell me, then, did you enjoy killing my men?”
    Regin rolled her eyes. “Of course I enjoyed offing them. You guys came to
our
turf, remember?”
Filter, Regin!
    “I should
off
you right here.” He began unconsciously running the muzzle up and down her cheek.
    She could shriek