Dreams of a Dark Warrior

waiting warred with the need to save Lucia—and herself.
    Valkyrie won. “Yeah. A long time ago you were called Aidan the Fierce. I’ve known you for over a thousand years.”
    The tension in him eased somewhat. “And yet I’m not even forty.”
    “You reincarnate. A lot.”
    “Reincarnate. And often, too? Now, this sounds interesting,” he said with a sneer. “How many times would this make it?”
    “This is the fourth time that I know of.”
    “Do I look the same?” He was clearly toying with her.
    “Your eyes are the same, but the rest of you is always different. I can recognize you, and you always sense I’m familiar. Even now on some level you do, don’t you? Our little torture session probably hurt you just as much as me.”
    “You’re insane,” he said easily,
confidently
.
    “I vow to the Lore that I’m telling the truth. You know I’m bound by that vow.”
    “Only when it’s made to another of the Lore.”
    His darkening expression warned her she was on thin ice. Of course, when had that ever stopped her? “I know you don’t want to believe you have
anything
in common with me. But you
are
of the Lore.” She heard his leather gloves clenching beneath the table, knew he was probably envisioning strangling her. “Look, let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you more info about the Lore thanyou’ve ever gotten out of any prisoner, and you’ll grant me some concessions.”
    “Such as?”
    “As long as I’m giving you information, you don’t torture me or Carrow. Or Brandr and Uilleam MacRieve any more than you have,” she said. “Or Natalya and Thad. Just lay off me and those friends, and I’ll divvy.”
    She could see the wheels turning. He fully believed she was nuts. But he also was weighing the odds that she’d reveal something he could use.
    Again Chase took the bait. “Agreed. So tell me, Valkyrie. How did you and I meet?”

FIFTEEN

    Y ou were a warlord in the Northlands,” the Valkyrie said.
    Declan waved her on. But, as she’d done before, she seemed to be wrestling with a decision.
Likely deciding the best way to deceive the mortal.
    Or perhaps this wasn’t a game. Many of the older immortals grew maddened. She might believe what she said.
    Yet her eyes looked lucid. “A
berserker
warlord.”
    He froze. Of all the factions she could choose … Brandr had looked familiar to him. As had Regin.
    No, this was some sort of scam, a plan to undermine him. He stifled his anger, knowing he would have to tolerate this bullshite in order to garner information from her. “Tell me what you consider a berserker to be.” To even pretend this was a possibility rankled, but he didn’t see an alternative.
    “A berserker is a mortal born with uncommon speed and strength,” she said. “He worships the bear and can channel its ferocity into a berserkrage, making him as strong as the most powerful beings on earth. At least temporarily. Afterward, he’s debilitated.” She cast him a measuring glance.
    He evinced no reaction, even as a suspicion began to arise.
This might all go back to … Nïx.
    “The berserkers swore allegiance to Wóden and fought battles in his name.”
    Though myths rarely corresponded with reality, Declan had researched the Valkyrie’s. “Wóden is allegedly the father of the Valkyrie.”
    She nodded. “I’m the daughter of gods. Well, two of my three parents are.”
    “How is there a third parent?”
    “When a maiden warrior calls out for courage as she dies, Wóden and Freya strike her with lightning and rescue her to Valhalla. I was in the lightning.” She glanced at his expression. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
    “Immortals are notorious for aggrandizing their own origins. But I’ve learned never to discount any-thing completely.”
    “Fair enough.”
    “Though I do wonder, if your parents are
deities
, why would they let you be captured by me?”
    “Wóden and Freya sleep to conserve power. They take sustenance from worship, and the last few centuries have been lean on the Norse god devotion.”
    If any of this was true …
Information here for the taking
. “Who is the third parent?”
    “She belonged to a people called the Radiant Ones, an ancient race of mortals who glowed. Does it soften you toward me to know that a mortal woman birthed me?”
    It … surprised him. “Where is she? Where are the Radiant Ones located?”
    “She’s long dead. They all are. I’m the last one of my kind.”
    “How did they die?”
    “Like I