Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
"Tori, Tori," he chants, raining kisses all over my face when the storm passes. "My Valkyrie. My heart. My world."
"Kyron," I breathe, more in love with this wild, beautiful Fae than ever. Our souls tied more tightly than ever.
Chapter Eleven
Reaper
Iwake to a terrifying scream ripping through the safehouse. My heart slams against my ribcage, fear for Tori shooting through me. I instantly reach for her, my blood running cold when I feel nothing but cool sheets.
"Tori!" I rip the sheets off, lunging to my feet as I call my lyststål to my hands. Light blazes around me, illuminating the room.
"Reaper!" she cries, stumbling into the room from the bathroom, her eyes wide with fear.
I'm at her side in two steps, pulling her behind me.
Another scream rips through the safehouse, far too close. Far too female.
"It's Abigail," Tori whispers, her voice shaking.
A vision? Gods alive. It must be a brutal one if so. Even as I think it, the Seer screams again.
Tori sobs. "We have to go to her, Reaper. She needs us."
I hesitate, torn between keeping her here where she's safe and taking her out there, where she might not be. Her sobs win out. This is Abigail. The bond they're forging is unlike anything I've seen in three hundred years. They aren't simply sisters-at-arms, but blood-bound by ancient magic, one breathed into existence by the Gods themselves.
"Stay behind me, little Valkyrie," I demand, determined to keep her close.
We cross the corridor, the cement floor cold beneath my bare feet, the eerie wails of Abigail echoing off the walls. I swallow my dread, Tori's hand clutching mine as we approach her chamber.
A group of warriors mill outside her door, stoic and grim in the face of her pain. Malachi and Dax stand shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, keeping them back. As soon as they see me and Tori, they split apart, letting us pass.
The sight that greets us is one straight out of a nightmare.
Abigail thrashes wildly on the bed, her eyes wide and unseeing, her thin nightgown tangled around her. Adriel and Damrion hold her down, stark fear stamped across their faces.
Tori trembles at my side, whimpering. I curse under my breath, wanting to shield her from this, but knowing I can't. The visions are only going to get worse as the war rages on. It's all but guaranteed.
Rissa stands at the end of the bed, tears in her eyes. Tori rushes to her side, wrapping one arm around her waist. They cling to each other, desperate to help the sister, but afraid to touch her out of fear of amplifying her vision and making it worse.
Abigail goes rigid on the bed, her body contorting as another scream is ripped from deep within her. It sounds as if her very soul is being torn apart.
"Gods," Damrion mutters, his eyes damp as he watches the girl he loves suffer, helpless to do anything to stop it.
"We're here, bittesmå ljós," Adriel chokes out. "We're right here with you."
Abigail screams again.
Tori cries out and lunges forward.
"Nei!" I cry, jumping forward to cut her off, but there is no stopping my stubborn little Valkyrie. She places her hand on Abigail's leg, determined to comfort her anyway she can.
Everyone in the room flinches, waiting with bated breaths for my mate to fall to her knees, screaming bloody murder.
She doesn't fall. And she doesn't scream. Abigail's vision doesn't sweep her away, perhaps because she still hasn't been able to reach her Light, save for the time she healed me.
But with Tori's touch, something changes.
Abigail's screams quieten to whimpers. Her thrashing body falls still.
I watch in silent awe as my little Valkyrie soothes her fallen friend with a simple touch. She uses no Valkyrie Gift. None save the ancient magic that makes a Valkyrie who and what she is.
As soon as Rissa sees the change in Abigail, she springs into action, rushing forward to help comfort their sister. Damrion and Adriel do the same, no longer holding her to the bed, but running a soothing hand across her brow, and down her arms.
"We're here," Adriel whispers. "We're right here, Abigail."
"Wake up, ást-meer. You have to wake up now," Damrion says, a plea in his voice I've never heard. Damrion doesn't plead. He doesn't beg. He commands, he orders, and he demands. But for this tiny, mysterious Valkyrie, he pleads.
Abigail falls silent and then sits upright with a choked cry, forcing Damrion and Adriel to take a step back. Her eyes are wide and dilated, fear blazing from the depths. "The Valkyrie," she cries, grasping for Damrion's arm. "You have to find the Valkyrie now!"
"Shh, ást-meer. It's okay. Everything is okay."
"No!" Her voice cuts through the room like the crack of a whip. "The Forsaken are going to kill a Valkyrie. You have to find them!"
Tori gasps sharply, a pitiful little cry of denial that breaks my heart.