“Where is she?” Jora Brynhild, leader of the Valkyries, strode through the halls of Valhalla, her feathered cape slapping against her legs.   

“She was in her room–.”

Jora pushed past the Valkyrie who’d been charged with keeping an eye on Jora’s sister–to stop her from doing something foolhardy. Rune stones covered the small bedside table. A note lay propped against a pillow.

A fist gripping her heart, Jora snatched up the piece of vellum and turned so the light was to her back, illuminating her sister’s ornate script.  

    I love the Valkyries, but I love my daughters more. The ErlKing is coming.

   Halda

Jora crushed the letter in her hand. Her sister was the first half-Norn Valkyrie. With the Norn talent for seeing the future, Halda had become a key tool in the Valkyries’ battle against the ErlKing.

Halda’s note left no doubt in Jora’s mind that the ErlKing was on his way to take what Halda, what all the Valkyries, valued more than anything, Geysa and Runa, Jora’s nieces.

“Gather the others. We fly immediately.”

Halda’s guard hurried from the room. Jora listened to her yells, to the sounds of weapons being grabbed and horses readied. She started to follow, but paused to calm her racing heart and regain the iron control the Valkyries expected of her.

She wouldn’t let her sister sacrifice herself. If the ErlKing was targeting Geysa and Runa, she would stop the otherworldly hunter from getting his prey–somehow. It was her job. She was leader of the Valkyries.

She closed her eyes and fought a wave of doubt. Had the choices she had made so far had been the right ones? It had been her responsiblity to stop the ErlKing and his pack of vile hellhounds from stealing the spirits of the dead, spirits meant for Valhalla. And, with Halda’s help, the Valkyries had been able to cut off most of his efforts, known where the ErlKing would appear early enough to get there first. But their success had come at a cost. Halda’d had a vision days earlier, this one showing the ErlKing–not stealing spirits but Halda herself.

Jora had sought to save her sister by confining her, but she hadn’t thought to call back her neices from their visit to their Norn relatives.

And now it appeared Halda’d had a second vision. Halda’s daughter were the Hunt’s new targets.

Jora stared down at the crushed paper in her hand. If anything happened to the girls, or her sister, it would be her fault.

She had to stop him.

# # #

The wind howled around Halda, whipping hair across her face. She shoved it from her eyes, ignored the pinpricks of pain where it had snapped against her cold skin.

The smell of damp leaves and dirt engulfed her. The woods. The human woods. She’d never been here. The Valkyries didn’t venture into the human world with the regularity of the Norns, and Halda’s mother hadn’t allowed her to visit her Norn relatives.

How Halda wished she’d placed the same restrictions on her daughters.

With stiff fingers she tugged at the leather ties of her feathered cloak, let the cape fall to the ground. She wouldn’t need it any longer. She’d leave it for Jora to find, for her eldest daughter to inherit. After a second’s thought, she tugged at the chain around her neck, felt the metal give. She pressed a kiss to the tiny charm attached there, then placed chain and charm gently atop the cloak. Rising back to a stand, she glanced around.

It was dark, like always when the Hunt arrived. The ErlKing was here, hunting her children. She’d stop him–from that. The runes had told the tale. He would lose what was most precious to him.

An equal exchange for what the Valkyries would lose tonight.

No choice, no escape. 

Halda pulled free the blade she’d stored in her boot. Wrapped her fingers around the hide-covered handle and closed her eyes. She would turn the hunt back to her, then use the weapon.

The ErlKing’s pack wouldn’t survive this night.

But then, neither would she.

Chapter 1

  The peal of a horn pierced into Venge Leidolf–stopping the breath he was about to take, freezing every movement but the beat of his heart. He felt himself being swept away, his human body still standing in a dark street of the human world, but his hellhound spirit traveling…following the horn’s call.

He landed somewhere dark. A biting wind howled around him and shoved against his fur. He padded forward. Packed dirt scratched the bottoms of his paws. The scent of prey, sweat, and blood filled him–a heady potion that urged him to run again, faster, until his feet left the ground and he flew through the clouds. Other hounds pressed against him, all hungry and driven to find whoever or whatever left the irresistible trail of adrenaline and fear they followed.

The noise stopped, and the vision faded with it…releasing Venge. His gaze darted around the dark street, searching for whomever…whatever manned the instrument, but the streets were empty. Venge pulled in a breath and waited. Waited for the call to sound again…for the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain to wrap around him, twist through his very soul. Waited because he had nothing else to do, no where else to go.

When it came, he was ready. This time the call was softer–less demand, more offer, a promise. Venge’s heart beat faster; his nostrils flared. Come, run, hunt, be free…the horn whispered. The call licked at Venge, stoked his desire to give in, to follow. And with nothing to hold him, no reason to care whether he lived or died…he didn’t resist; he shimmered.

“Did you learn what you needed to learn Lieutenant?” Sam asked. “Or do we need to go another round? I’ll warn you first, if we do this again I won’t just spar with you I’ll take you out completely.” 

Kong drew in a deep breath then looked down at her crotch sitting right in front of him. His body hardened with fierce speed. “We’re cool,” he grumbled, then began to sit up. If he didn’t get her off of him now he would embarrass himself in front of the others. 

Sam jumped to her feet and moved away from him. Kong pulled himself up and adjusted his shirt. Boomer and Ricochet just looked at him with blank faces. Walt scrubbed his face with his hands. 

“If you two are finished with the playground antics I need to fill you in on the last of the details.” When they all turned back to him he continued, “You’ll fly out at twenty-hundred tonight. What you do until then is your own business. Your pickup after you retrieve the hostage is at eighteen-hundred three days from now. Any questions?” 

When they all chorused “No Sir”, Walt continued. “Sam, meet me in my office at the barracks. I want to talk to these guys a moment.” 

“That’s not…” 

“Please,” Walt interrupted. 

Sam gave him a quick glare, then turned and left the tent. She couldn’t believe he was going to lecture them about her. He’d never done that before. She could defend herself. Sam ran with lightning speed back to the barracks, her anger pumping her legs faster. This whole situation was crazy. Hadn’t she proven herself over and over again? Why was she letting this particular man get under her skin? Sam stopped in front of her uncle’s office and bent over to catch her breath. A hot shower, she thought to herself, that’s what she needed. She could use the time to calm herself and think this situation through. 

Back at the tent Kong felt Walt’s eyes bore through him. “Sir, I’d like to explain.” 

“No need,” Walt replied. 

“Yes Sir there is. She’s young, in her twenties as far as I can figure. Surely she hasn’t had the years of training we’ve had and you’re asking us to trust her. I’m sorry Sir, but my trust doesn’t come that easily,” he said, looking at Boomer and Ricochet. 

“Is that so? Tell me Lieutenant just what do you know about her?” Walt asked. 

“That’s the point. I don’t know anything.” Kong was working hard at keeping his tone low-key. 

“Okay, let me enlighten you. She’s twenty-six years old and started her training eighteen years ago.” Walt let that tidbit of information sink in. 

“You tellin’ us she started training when she was eight?” Ricochet asked. 

“Exactly. By the time she was twelve she’d gone through four martial arts masters, each one teaching her everything he knew. When she was thirteen, she started coming here and training with my men. She watched, listened and learned everything she could. One day I put her out there with some of the guys on an exercise. Twenty minutes into the session she took out four men. 

“And if you’re worried about how she’ll handle herself if she’s captured by the Taliban, don’t be. Yesterday she went to Jersey to retrieve a woman who had been kidnapped. Our intelligence told her there were only two men. Imagine her surprise when a third walked in. At this very moment he’s undergoing surgery to repair major damage to his penis and scrotum. Now, she didn’t tell me, but I’m assuming the man thought he’d use her for his entertainment since she had let his intended victim go.” 

The men cringed at the thought of what she could have done to him. Kong smiled to himself, these were the answers he needed. She could fight, no doubt about that, his ribs and face would attest to her fighting skills. But now that he knew how she handled herself when she was outnumbered, some of the tension started to ease from his body. 

“What do you mean what am I? I’m Markey Neville, your friend.” 

“No. I saw you in that alley. You aren’t human. You were glowing, your eyes were like fire. My God you threw those men around like they were rag dolls. No human can do what you did. “ 

“Denise please, you’re confused.” If she could just convince Denise that she’d imagined the whole thing, that the trauma of the night had caused her to embellish what had really happened, then everything would fine. 

“Don’t you try that psychology crap with me, I know what I saw. Now leave me and Sandy alone. We don’t ever want to see you again.” Denise kicked at Markey’s foot removing it from between the door and wall. “Freak,” she mumbled before slamming the door. 

Tears streamed down Markey’s face as she left Denise’s apartment building. Freak, it always came down to that one word. It had to be the most hurtful word in the English dictionary. Nonetheless, it wasn’t the first time she heard it and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Markey returned home to find her small house that she rented covered in smashed eggs with the word “freak” spray-painted in huge black letters across the front. The sound of hushed whispers came from behind her as the neighborhood gathered across the street to stare. Lying on the ground in front of her door was a newspaper with a large black and white picture of her. Over it read, “Is this woman a phenomenon?” 

She stepped over it and unlocked her sticky, slimy door and proceeded inside. She knew what she had to do and without any hesitation she began packing. By the end of the day she had called her boss and quit, packed all important items and loaded her car. When nightfall came she slipped behind the wheel and began her search for her new home. 

“Commander Giat?” Central Control hailed him.

Pressing his wrist communicator, he answered. “What is it?”

“The Lady is in holding pattern and has requested a dock.”

“Open the hold.” He’d been expecting Ro back from delivering the Honiker Oil. Ro was his sister Aurelia’s personal droid. Aurelia was currently enjoying a honeymoon in his interrogation chamber with John Blaten, leaving him to take care of the details. He didn’t mind, they deserved happiness. The gods knew they’d waited long enough for the war to end so they could be together.

A buzz alerted him to a visitor at his door. Flipping off the hologram, Michel walked from his bedroom to his living quarters. A touch on the hand scan and the door slid open. “Ro.” He nodded at his visitor. “Did the delivery go as planned?”

“Yes, sir.” Ro gave a mocking salute.

Michel furrowed his brow. Ro was not at all the same droid he’d sent to guard Aurie and he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the new Ro. “Ro, I sent you as a professional soldier droid to live with my sister. What happened?”

“You live with that woman for three years and see what happens.”

He nodded his head. “Good point.”

Flopping in a chair, Ro smiled. “Besides, Aurelia insisted on some upgrades. She wanted me to be more human.”

Michel scratched his chin. “I heard some mention of a pleasure droid. You didn’t…”

“Pleasure your sister?” Ro wagged his brows.

“Ro?” he demanded an answer. If he had been Aurie’s pleasure droid, John would take him apart when he surfaced from the interrogation chamber.

“I’m innocent.” Propping his feet up on a table, Ro asked, “Speaking of Aurelia, have they come up for air?”

“No, and get your feet off my fucking table.” Sitting in the chair across from Ro, Michel kicked the table. It wobbled on its base but since the durable plastiflex furniture was connected to the flooring, it didn’t move.

“I can get abused elsewhere and enjoy it.” Standing, Ro flipped his hand up in a half-ass wave. “I’ll be in guest quarters if I’m needed.”

Michel didn’t bother to reply. He didn’t know why he was so grumpy. Obviously, he needed some down time. He considered contacting General Valant. With John on board, he could ask for a leave of absence. John was certainly capable of commanding The Quest for a few weeks.

The corner of Michel’s lip curled up as he considered a month in a pleasure house on Ha-Tor Three. He could have a different woman every night, a real woman, not the droids available to him aboard the ship. Lately, he rarely took advantage of the pleasure droids. Even the new programming that allowed the droids to shift into any shape requested barely got a rise out of him. Of course, he’d tested the program. The last droid he’d ordered had a perfect likeness to a certain hot lieutenant. It had been a pleasant diversion to fuck her.

Now, in real life, the lieutenant was an excellent crewmember except for her acid tongue that had, on occasion, verbally flayed men to the bone. The beautiful lieutenant preferred women and that was a fact. Such was life.

A diversion was exactly what he needed. A challenge to stir the blood. At thirty-three, he was too young to lose interest in sex.

“Who are you?”

“Blake Alexander.”

When her blank stare continued, he clarified. “Henry’s grandson.”

Recognition lit her features, and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

“I wasn’t expecting you. Henry told me you lived in Oregon.”

“I do.” He nodded, then smiled at her, careful not to show too many teeth. He hoped he looked friendly, not frightening. This would have been so much easier if he’d been expecting to see her here. He suppressed an annoyed growl.

“I came down when I heard the news,” he continued.

She nodded. “The funeral was this morning.” She paused and sent him an expression meant to scold him for not being there. “It was very nice.”

He tried his smile again. “I didn’t come for that.”

If she’d been a cat, all the hair on her back would have stood up right then. “Oh?”

“No. I came to see you.” He tried very hard to keep his tone even. “Of course I didn’t expect to find you here.” He indicated the house in its entirety with one long sweep of his arm.

“You came to see me?” Apparently, it was so ridiculous it bore repeating. “What do I have that you could possibly want?”

“I want to find out what Henry was like from someone who knew him.”

He nearly cringed at the lie and hoped she couldn’t see through him. He’d never liked pompous old Henry in his pompous old houses with his pompous old advice—especially the advice.

“I’d be glad to tell you what I know.”

Blake nodded. She’d actually bought it. This was going to be easier than he thought. A little tug here, little push there, maybe even some seduction, and he’d have everything he needed from her. It might even be pleasant, which he affirmed as he took another discreet glance at her legs.

“So shall we discuss it over dinner?”

Karma’s question ripped Blake from his thoughts. A little forward of her to ask him on a date the first time they’d ever met each other. He liked it.

“Kiss me again. It’s a feat I can’t accomplish on my own.”

Tor returned to her mouth, nipped at her full lower lip, and then licked it. Azari’s mouth parted. He darted his tongue into her moist mouth and tasted her unique flavor. Her tongue caressed his in return. The fingers of her hand entwined in his hair, pulling him deeper into her temptation.

Her innocence beguiled him. His need to be sheathed between her legs grew, as did his desire to surround himself with her openness and candor. In the paleness of his life she offered vibrant color.

Azari parted his robe, and then ran her hand down his chest. She grazed a nipple, and then fondled the nub, teasing him to an aching fullness he hadn’t known in a long time. He slid a hand between her legs. The warm entrance to her body was slick. “Has a man pleasured you here?”

“No. Only I have …”

“I would pleasure you until you thought you were on the top of the highest mountain known to man.”

“Yes. It’s what I want.”

He sucked the pointed nipple of her breast into his mouth. Beneath him she wiggled. “Can you feel where that sensation leads?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Don’t let it stop.”