Dreams of a Dark Warrior

devils and biting snow had plagued him till he’d thought he’d lose his mind. Always his chest had given him pain. His parents had feared that his aching heartwas weak, that he would die young. As a man, he’d warred to escape the turmoil within him—placating his inward black thoughts with outward black deeds.
    Now the ache had disappeared. Perhaps his heart had always been strong, yet it would beat for this female alone. “How could I have returned?”
    “When you died in my arms centuries ago, you vowed that you would come for me. I do not know how you’ve done this. Sometimes we’re not meant to know all the things that are possible in the Lore.”
    “The Lore?”
    “It’s our world. A world of immortals, where myths and legends live.”
    She is an immortal; I am not.
“You will
not
return to this land, Valkyrie,” he commanded, his voice rough from the thought of losing her. “Your place is with me.”
    Her face brightened even more. “Then remind me why I chose you above all other men.”
    “I know not how to remind …” He trailed off when she began unraveling the ties to his armor, her desires clear. He couldn’t rip off his chain mail and tunic quickly enough.
    Yet even as his manhood swelled in his trews, he had to admit, “
Cher,
I’ve never lain with a woman before.”
    “You have.” She smiled, beginning to divest herself of her own clothing. “You just don’t remember yet.”
    His gaze was riveted to her deft fingers unlacing that leather vest. She shrugged from it, then stepped from her kirtle, leaving her garbed in only her blouse. It was so short he could nearly glimpse the juncture ofher thighs—and so transparent he could clearly see her breasts.
    He gaped at the ravishing sight before him, then swallowed audibly. “I’ve never wanted anything more than you in my entire life.”
You are my life. Somehow I know this. …
    She stood on her toes to press tender kisses to his neck, his chest. When she murmured, “Take off your boots,” they were as good as gone.
    “And your trews.”
    He tore them off his body.
    She backed toward his bed, curling her finger, beckoning him to follow.
    After drawing off the blouse, she lay back like a radiant offering. So stunningly beautiful, she took his breath away.
    The first woman to grace his bed.
And the last.
    Once he’d lowered himself beside her, she reached for his rampant shaft, cupping her fingers around it. His hips bucked uncontrollably to her silken touch, and a groan was wrenched from his lips.
    She began fondling him with languid strokes that made him lightheaded. The pressure within his manhood mounted as she rubbed her thumb over the crown, seeming to revel in the moisture there. “Ah,
cher,
I grow near—”
    Without relinquishing her hold, she guided him to lie back. When she straddled his hips, he was transfixed, scarcely comprehending that he was about to know her fully.
    She positioned his length beneath her, then beganto lower her body upon it. With each of her panting inhalations, her breasts rose and fell so temptingly. His hands covered that supple flesh, kneading with delight.
    Her tight sheath nearly robbed him of his seed. Gritting his teeth, he struggled not to shame himself.
    She lowered herself as far as she could, her curling Valkyrie claws digging into his chest.
    —
As they should.—
    Was he going mad? The thought faded when she rose up and inched back down, her core damp and quivering. Rising up. Slipping down.
    —She needs me to master her, to overpower her strength.—
    How could Treves know these things? Sensing them to be true, he seized her waist, forcing her to her back. When he spread her thighs and seated himself deep between them, she moaned with pleasure, her breasts bouncing as he began to thrust.
    He dipped down to kiss her. As his mouth slanted over hers, her lips parted, her little tongue seeking. With his first taste, dizziness swept over him.
    “So sweet,” he groaned against her lips.
Like drugging poppies.
    At once, memories overwhelmed him. Crimson spatter in snow. Being kept from her when he would slaughter anything that separated them. His savage need to claim her.
    He drew his head back, his gaze narrowed. “No one keeps me from you, Reginleit.” When he realized his very accent had changed, his jaw slackened with shock.
    I am this man she spoke of.
    Which meant that she
belonged
to him. “Mine. Woman, you are
mine
.”
    “A-Aidan?”
    Blood surged within him as a