Dreams of a Dark Warrior

wasted mind remembered something he’d been too enraged to recall before.
    Right before Declan had tried to kiss Regin, she’d told him she couldn’t do it. …
    Blackness swallowed him.
    When Regin awoke that morning, the grapevine had news. Chase had just come back from some mission after disappearing for days.
    And she didn’t know how she felt about his return.
    All week she’d been consumed by guilt, conflicted over her loyalties, pacing that cursed cell. Every time she railed at herself for not kissing Chase, she would remember the excitement of being with him, the pure sexual charge of his game. That night, for such a brief window, Regin had
liked
him.
    Until Webb had crashed the party.
    The man was obviously close to Chase, had called him
son
. In turn, Chase had gazed at the man with clear respect.
    But after Webb’s interruption, Chase had been disgusted with Regin and so ashamed of what he’d done with her. She couldn’t stop recalling the pain in his voice, the hurt in his blazing eyes.
    Now she awaited her “examination,” knowing her time drew near. Chase had been enraged—he would never stall for her.
    Altered …
    Every hour that passed was grueling. Natalya was regaling her with tales of old battles to keep her distracted, but time pressed heavily on Regin. She was continually lost in her own thoughts.
    One spot of good news in this ordeal? Carrow had somehow survived Oblivion and lured her target, Malkom Slaine, into the Order’s trap. On the day of his arrival, Regin had seen the vampiric demon—arguably the biggest, meanest looking brute she’d ever beheld—dragged half-dead down the ward.
    Yet after all the witch had risked to meet her end of the bargain and save Ruby, Chase had broken his word; he hadn’t freed them.
    And he’d called the witches treacherous?
Bastard
.
    But as far as Regin knew, Thad and MacRieve hadn’t been singled out again—
    Gas hissed from above, clouds of it beginning to diffuse from the ceiling. Though she’d expected exactly this at any second, Regin stared up in disbelief.
    Natalya murmured, “I’m so sorry, Valkyrie.”
    Regin shrieked with frustration, pounding the glass of her cell. She held her breath as long as she could.
Fight it!
    Vision growing hazy, lids so heavy …
Both she and Natalya collapsed to the floor.
    When Regin woke, she was strapped to a table with bindings she couldn’t break. Her claws were like razors, but she couldn’t wield them.
    An IV snaked from Regin’s arm; electrodes covered her skin. She craned her head around, saw Dixon and other scientists in white lab coats. In the corner, Fegley stood smirking.
    Chase wasn’t here? Regin spied the camera above. Probably watching it from the comfort of his room. She refused to give him the show he expected, wouldn’t scream or cry.
    He’d once told her that she would beg for mercy, but she’d be damned before she did. She was Reginleit the Radiant, an ageless daughter of gods.
    “Shall we get started?” Dixon asked the others, her eyes glittering above her mask as if with fascination. “We have
a lot
to cover in a short amount of time.”
    Bone saws and scalpels were lined up on a table. When Regin saw the shining metal of a chest cracker, her bravado faltered. She turned to the camera. “Chase, you have to remember me! You’ll regret the living hell out of this if you let it happen!”
    One of the scientists casually remarked, “Commander Webb has expressed a particular interest in this one.”
    Regin shrieked, “I’m going to eat CommanderWebb’s heart!” Her stress made the lights flare. All the technicians hunched down, their eyes darting.
    “Dr. Dixon, her pulse is two fifty and climbing.”
    When Dixon raised a scalpel, Regin gazed at the camera. “I can withstand this, Chase. But can you?”

TWENTY-NINE

    D eclan woke to a pounding on his inner chamber door.
    Vincente, no doubt.
He turned bleary eyes to the clock.
It cannot say half past five.
He’d slept almost twelve hours?
    Dreamless hours in a deep black void.
    He flushed with a queasy kind of shame to see the needle still in his arm. Plucking it out, he eased to his feet. Dizziness washed over him as he lurched toward the bathroom.
    A single dose had rocked him.
Every other day at least.
    More pounding on the door.
    Declan yelled, “I’ll be there in a goddamned minute.”
    In the bathroom, he stopped and stared at the countertop where he’d touched the Valkyrie. With narrowed eyes, he