Dreams of a Dark Warrior

the Valkyrie, didn’t hate her, just felt numb when he thought of her.
    Aye, cold as ash.
    So why did I order Vincente to watch over her while I was gone?

TWENTY-EIGHT

    D eclan arrived back at the base at six in the morning, limping, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, his fatigues blood-splattered.
    Returning “home” from battle, like in that dream of Aidan’s.
    When the berserker had washed off the blood and gore, he’d found the Valkyrie waiting for him,
needing
him. Gazing up at him like he was a hero.
    —Her face lights up when I come into view.—
    Now, God help him, Declan’s feet wanted to take him to her cell.
Oh, aye, Dekko. So maybe she can try to finish you.
    Instead, he forced himself to stagger to his solitary, grim quarters. He just needed some sleep. Then he’d think more clearly.
    He gazed around his room—why had he never realized this was his own cell? A soulless hollow space. Just like his life.
    Here he had no sweet kiss and soft woman waiting for him. No family. Just emptiness.
    These goddamned detrus had more of a life than he did.
    He sank down in front of the console, fighting theoverriding urge to see Regin. It’d been a week. Just a glimpse …
    He pulled up the feed of her cell. She was asleep, curled on her side. She wore only her T-shirt and panties, with her hair spread over her shoulder.
    Achingly beautiful.
    He was expected to hate this female as much as the creatures he’d just hunted? To equate her kind with theirs? Impossible.
    He exhaled. Numbing drugs or not, his emotionless existence was clearly over. He did feel, and all too strongly.
    I want her so much. Even while she wants me dead.
    Why wouldn’t she? How many times had he told her he would execute her, or that he took pleasure in hurting her?
    He couldn’t begrudge her actions—she’d taken him at his word and attempted to protect herself, doing whatever it took not to be on the “roll call of dead immortals.”
    All’s fair in war. Best not take things personally.
He was a big boy; if he could dish out the pain, he’d better be prepared to take it.
    No, if he was honest, he’d admit he’d been infuriated by his reaction: disappointment so deep it’d been like a physical blow.
    Declan wanted whatever he’d believed he could find with her. Craved it more than a full needle.
    A knock sounded on his door. Probably Dixon this early. Speaking of needles.
Better have what I need, Doctor.
    He flipped off the screen, buzzed her in. She carried a case.
Very good.
    When she saw him, her eyes widened behind her glasses. “Those hunts really take it out of you. No sleep?”
    “None.” He’d been too busy searching—and too desperate not to dream of Regin.
    “I see. I’m sure you’ve had a lot on your mind as well.”
    Maybe he was paranoid, but Dixon seemed to be acting strangely around him, more reserved. Probably figured out what had happened with Declan and the Valkyrie. If Fegley had, then Dixon sure as hell would.
    “I’ll catch up on some sleep now,” Declan told her, his eyes riveted to the case.
    “You’ll need to. Webb scheduled you for Slaine’s interrogation.”
    “It hasn’t been done?” Perhaps his commander’s confidence wasn’t totally gone.
    “Slaine was too injured from Fegley’s ham-handed capture. The subject’s been recovering for days.”
    Declan had been at the capture, had seen the terrible power that demon had wielded. Though he’d never admit it to another, Declan couldn’t have brought in Slaine uninjured either. “When is it scheduled?”
    “Eighteen hundred. Gives you twelve hours to rest up.” She held up the case. “Your new, improved formulation should help. As you ordered, it’s much stronger—you can go every other day at least.”
    As soon as he had the case in hand, he parted his lipsto dismiss her, but she merely said, “Get some rest,” and left.
    Alone, he turned the monitor back on, staring at the Valkyrie. What wouldn’t he give to sink down behind her, draw her close, and sleep like the dead?
    A dangerous thought. A nearly undeniable pull.
I’ll be taking my dose now, before I do something even more stupid.
    He opened the case, filled a syringe. His chest ached for something intangible; his vein swelled greedily. He gave in to at least that need, plunging his syringe.
    Ah, fuck me, that’s strong.
Like the old days.
    He collapsed back on the bed, the needle still in his arm. Chemicals rushed through his brain, his thoughts clouding. But his