Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

ended in a difference in opinion—one that entailed her sucker-punching me in the mouth and me tossing her by her hair. Sorry, Regin, but I’ll always work alone. Besides, the amulet was a good start. Twelve points out of eighty-seven.”
    “What if that vamp finds you again?”
    If he’d been telling her the truth on that ledge, Kaderin figured that would be happening sooner than Regin thought. “I’m sure I can figure out something to take care of him.”
    “When did you blood him? In Russia?” When she nodded, Regin said, “Did he trace before you could kill him?”
    Her face flushed. No, I was too busy grinding on him. “I didn’t have my whip with me,” she said, hedging while still telling the truth. She felt she might as well be wearing a scarlet letter. Or at least a T-shirt that said, “Kissed vampire. And I was digging it.”
    “Regin, why are you so eager to help me out? You seem very keen to get out of—and stay out of—New Orleans.”
    She began nervously tinkering with her iPod. “Nïx told me that... well, Aidan the Fierce is returning soon.”
    “Your berserker?”
    Regin had kissed Aidan—although she shouldn’t have, because her kisses were as drugging as the most powerful mystical narcotics and just as addictive. Even after that berserker had died in battle, he’d defied death to seek her again in another life.
    In fact, he’d reincarnated at least three other times, yearning for Regin so badly that he was cursed to be a Version 2.0, a reincarnate, for eternity.
    “He’s not my berserker,” Regin said.
    “What would you call him, then?”
    She shrugged.
    “What would you call the fact that he perpetually finds you, remembers who he was, and then somehow gets killed fighting to win you?”
    “A game we play?” Regin winced. “Did I just say that?”
    Kaderin rolled her eyes. “Then shouldn’t you be in New Orleans, battering up?”
    Regin glanced away and softly said, “I was kind of thinking that if he didn’t find me this time, he might live past thirty-five.”
    Kaderin didn’t know what to do with this sudden seriousness from Regin, so she said, “What am I supposed to do with this, Regin?”
    “You’re whack, d’you know that?”
    “What if Ivan the Russian was your berserker, and you just didn’t know it?”
    Regin studied the ceiling. “I always know him.”
    “Why don’t you just accept him? Run into his arms?” Freya had taught the older Valkyrie that they would know their true love when he opened his arms and they realized they’d always run to get within them.
    “I have my reasons.” Regin put her chin up, though she was lying on the floor. “They are myriad and complex.”
    “Give me one.”
    Regin faced her. “Okay, I’ll give you one, a Regin Reason Lite. With a situation like this, you have to ask yourself, is the grope worth the slap?” When Kaderin frowned, she added, “You know, is the cake worth the bake?”
    “Oh. So it’s not?”
    “Among other things, I’m not keen on falling for a mortal and cursing every day that passes because he’ll die within a blink of my life. Then to pine for him to return?” She shook her head firmly. “Not worth the bake.”
    “I understand. It’s best to forgo a small amount of pleasure to spare yourself a lot of pain.” Kaderin did understand—so why had she taken pleasure from Sebastian, knowing it would wreck her afterward?
    “Exactly! It’s just self-preservation. No one in the coven gets it. They only want me to live in the moment. Nïx advised me to ‘find and bang my berserker.’ ” She exhaled wearily. “But that brings a question to mind. Are you going to get a male now that the curse is lifting? Word around the coven is that you haven’t had a little some-some in a thousand years.”
    Kaderin saw no reason to deny it. Even before her blessing, she’d been so cautious about trusting that she’d had few lovers. “I’m not so selfless that I would give ‘a little some-some’ when I get nothing out of it. I don’t feel desire like that.” Liar, liar, liar.
    “Maybe not in the past ,” Regin said with an exaggerated wink-wink. “So, what’s your type? Or was? Do you even remember?”
    What was her type? Kaderin flushed, denying her first thought. “I was always defenseless in the face of swineherds.”
    Regin laughed, and when Kaderin chuckled slightly, she exclaimed, “This is so weird! You were all freakishly unemotional before I was even born. I’ve never