Dreams of a Dark Warrior

likely perceive his turmoil. Just as Lothaire had.
    Time to face the facts, Dekko.
Regin might be telling the truth.
    Lothaire had confirmed that reincarnates existed. Hell, Lothaire had specifically said Declan was the berserker Aidan.
    If Declan could accept that he was a reincarnate, then what would stop him from accepting he was a berserker? And vice versa?
    Which would mean that some long-dead warlord was fighting to take over his already damaged mind.
    And I’m ceding territory to him.
    This would be the first time Declan had felt such a loss of power—and an impotent loss of will—since the night those things tied him down and fed from his flesh. …
    Am I more a part of
their
world than I’ve ever feared?
He narrowed his eyes as he passed prisoners.
Are they all bloody lookin’ at me?
    Going mad. Long time coming.
    When he turned to stare one creature down, Declan caught a reflection of his eyes in the glass. Dear God, were they glowing?
    He knew how to fool psych evaluations, but how could he disguise a physical reaction like that?
    And lying to Webb would prove much more difficult. He could almost see the disappointment and disgust on the man’s aging face.
    No, Declan couldn’t accept this, couldn’t simply surrender his entire existence.
Fight it all the way down.
    Which was why his footsteps were taking him to Regin. She was the key. Hadn’t she said he’d remember all with their first kiss?
    He was ready to test it out.
Fuck it
. To prove either him or her a liar at last.
    Chase stood outside Regin’s cell with his eyes blazing, looking … shell-shocked.
    For some reason, his soulless, cold façade seemed to be cracking right before her eyes.
    He opened the cell without the usual b.s. security protocols, then stormed inside. His hand shot out to seize her upper arm, yanking her to her feet.
    Though Regin didn’t resist as he cuffed her, Natalya snapped, “What the hell are you doing, Magister?”
    She told Natalya in the old tongue, “This could be my last chance. Let it go.”
    The fey backed away and answered in the same, “Good luck, Valkyrie.”
    The cell door closed behind them. As Chase dragged her down the corridor, his grip on Regin’s arm was like a vise.
    “Chase, let up!”
    “Silence.”
With another yank, he forced her along the ward to his quarters.
    They passed Carrow’s cell. She was indeed absent, but there were three new inmates in addition to the sorceress from before: two more Sorceri—Portia, the Queen of Stone, and Emberine, the Queen of Flames. Both hard-core evil.
    And then there was Ruby, the motherless little witch, imprisoned in this house of horrors. Had Chase himself been the one who’d orphaned her?
    The girl gazed up at Regin. Her green eyes were puffy from crying, but she put up her pointed chin and defiantly wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Kid’s just like Carrow.
    And if Chase got his way, Ruby would likely never leave this place. At the thought, Regin’s temper redlined.
    When they passed Brandr, he banged on the glass. “What are you doing with her, Aidan? Calm yourself!”
    Chase didn’t answer, only tightened his grip on her arm and hastened her past.
    Brandr’s roar of frustration echoed down the ward.
    Once they were inside Chase’s office, he clasped her around the waist and lifted her onto the back of his couch. Standing before her, he gazed down at her face. “You wanted us to kiss, Valkyrie?”
    Now?
He wasn’t the only one who could feel rage. It would take everything in her not to turn away in disgust. Could she control her temper for once?
    “Answer me.”
    Keep it cool, Regin. Smile and be flirty. Say nothing insulting.
But she couldn’t come up with anything else!
    “Your lightning’s going off like mad.” His brows drew together. “And your eyes … stark silver. Why are you shaking?”
    She bit out, “Waiting. For. Your kiss.”
    He exhaled with annoyance, dropping his hand.
    “You’re not going to do it?”
    “As soon as I’m confident you will no’ bite, female.”
    The Valkyrie folded in her lips, as if to stem her words.
    Declan had never seen this furious and terse side of her. He found he didn’t like her quiet, had grown accustomed to her informing him of what she was thinking at all times.
    The idea that she wouldn’t be receptive to his attentions had never occurred to him. And he wasn’t quite sure how to go about this. She wasn’t even the same species—
God preserve me
—and he hadn’t kissed