If Rune mastered swordplay, then he could fight his half brother Saetthan on equal footing. Saetthan carried the sword of their ancestors, a weapon passed down through generations. The ancient metal had been forged in the fires of a world being born: Titania, the second of the three great fey realms.
Saetthan was rightly proud of that weapon. But then, he'd always enjoyed lording over Rune anything he'd inherited as the legitimate Sylvan heir.
Orion had said, "Could you match Blace's talents? Become our swordsman?"
Rune showed promise. But he could never be better than Blace.
Just then Uthyr had soared overhead, unleashing a stream of fire. The gigantic dragon had flown into the flames, warming and cleaning his scales. Yet another fantastically powerful Morior.
Orion had gazed up with his fathomless eyes, musing, "Why not take up fire breathing?"
Rune had scowled. Already he'd felt as if he didn't belong here. Blace was the oldest vampire, filled with the wisdom of ages. Sian was the prince of hells, son to the first demon, and a second generation Morior after his sire had died.
Rune? A killer from the shadows and a whore.
"Just as the Morior are limbs of one entity, that bow must become a part of you." Strolling on, Orion had said, "Remove the leathers from your hands."
His archery guards? Rune had called, "My fingertips will be shredded."
Without turning back, Orion had spoken into his mind. --Did you think to become the Archer without pain?--
Rune roused from his memory when Sian gave his fearsome roar.
Battle on.
Sian and Blace began tearing through that army's ranks with little resistance. Rune loosed strategic arrows to cover the two, though they had no need of help. From the icy forest beyond, Darach howled, fresh on the trail of something.
Within a quarter of an hour, victory was nigh.
--Shoot the bonedeath, Rune!-- Blace commanded. --West flank.--
Rune plucked a white arrow from his quiver.
Allixta warily said, --You've configured those magicks to make Morior immune?-- She was understandably nervous.
--You'll soon find out.-- Rune drew his bow to the limit, aiming for a boulder in the rocky field below. He adjusted for winds, gauging the direction with the sensitive tips of his ears.
Silent, he let fly his arrow.
It sliced through the air. When it implanted in stone, the icy rock exploded.
Waves of heat and pressure expanded from the target, scorching snow, striking the closest demons, then sweeping out farther for miles.
All around Sian and Blace, demons fell to their knees with yells of anguish as their bodies broke and broke. Soon their bones were dust, and they could only writhe on the ground. None would regenerate; each would become an immortal burden on what was left of his people.
The battle was over. The bonedeath always ensured a decisive--and talked about--victory.
Watching his enemies helplessly squirm made Rune even more unsettled! He understood why this needed to be done; the show of force would cow enemies and prevent future conflicts. Besides, if the Morior didn't prevail, all these demons would be dead anyway.
But he didn't relish this.
Nix had described the Morior as pure evil, an alliance of monsters and devils. That malicious Valkyrie had long allied with the fey; would she have deemed the outwardly beautiful Magh a monster?
Sian and Blace traced from the devastation and rejoined them with grave faces. No one would celebrate this as a victory.
Rune strapped on his bow. --I wonder why Orion didn't merely destroy this dimension in the palm of his hand.--
Dear gods, had Rune spoken that to the others?
Apparently. Orion materialized that moment, his uncanny gaze boring into Rune. Tonight, the Undoing resembled a demon, a gruesome one like Sian's twin Gourlav had been. Standing over twelve feet tall, Orion had thick-plated skin, two rows of horns, and dripping fangs. But his chilling black eyes were the same. --This demonarchy has strategic value and is filled with resources. Do you harbor other doubts, archer?--
Feigning nonchalance, Rune shrugged. --None, my liege. If I've discharged my duty here, I'll take my leave.--
--By all means,-- Orion said, his demonic expression giving away nothing.
Rune was tempted to return to Josephine, but he couldn't predict his behavior. His hunt for Nix wouldn't resume until night fell in New Orleans. Only one thing left to do.
He traced to the Dryads, his favorite nymph covey. They lived in a hollowed-out tree as large as an apartment building. Each nymph had her own quarters, her "nest." They were spread throughout the interior of the tree's limbs. The main gathering area was a bar at the base of the trunk.
When he appeared inside, nymphs cheered his arrival. They were all topless, their voluptuous bodies painted with leaf designs. Amber jewels adorned them.
The other males present scowled, knowing Rune had just skipped them in line.
"Well, hello, doves." He cast the nymphs his wickedest grin. They crowded around him, fawning, hoping to be chosen.
This was what he'd needed! He'd already fucked most of them, which meant they craved a repeat.
Josephine, however, had woken from a night in his bed with one question on her lips: Will you really let me leave?
Here, he was the best choice, the ultimate for any female to enjoy. Here, he had one worry: deciding which nymphs to honor with his dick.
Second best? Not among these beauties.
TWENTY-NINE
Rune?" Jo called when she woke in his bed alone. She tested her body, moving her arms and legs.
She was totally healed! Time to return to New Orleans.
Yet Rune didn't answer. She rose, gazing down at her many bandages. He'd cared for her. So where was he?
She checked the other rooms he'd shown her. No sign of him. She dimly remembered speaking to him when she'd been in such pain, but not much of what they'd said.
Until he returned, she was trapped in his home again. Which meant Thad remained unprotected, under the control of an evil bitch. Jo shivered to recall Nix snapping her bones like dried twigs.
The Valkyrie wanted her to spy on some guy named Orion and report back. Nix had said he would impact her life in so many ways. That might be true, but Jo had no idea who he was.
Struggling to make sense of that fight, she headed to the bathing chamber. As she unwrapped layers of bandages, more details filtered into her consciousness. Rune had used her as bait for Nix! But he'd also saved her in the end. Why else would the Valkyrie have stopped mid-murder?
He'd yelled as Nix tortured her--as if he were desperate to save Jo. As if he gave a damn about her.
Naked, she gazed down at her body. Black runes covered her. He'd painstakingly crafted shapes from his own blood.
That delicious wine.
She trailed her fingertips over each one, loving his marks on her flesh. She would've healed on her own in a few days, but he hadn't known that. She recalled his panic, and the dread rumbling in his voice.
The dark fey was starting to feel more for her!
After their night together, Jo's own feelings might have deepened into something more than infatuation. Her dreams of his past had affected her as well. Seeing him so vulnerable and young, yet so cocky, had touched her. The love he'd felt for his mother had softened her.
She'd been swamped with disappointment when he'd traced her to the Quarter and told her to run home to her roost.
Huh. That had merely been part of his ruse.
In the spacious shower area, she pressed some tiles, and warm water cascaded from the ceiling. She was reluctant to erase his symbols, but she needed to clear the cobwebs from her head.
She stepped under the water, staring at the drain. The blood washing from her skin colored the water like ink, and quickened her appetite. When Rune returned, would he give her a top-off? She nearly moaned at the prospect.
Could she trust him enough to reveal Nix's
deal? Maybe he and Jo could work together on their mutual Valkyrie problem.
After her shower, Jo padded in a robe to his closet to steal an undershirt. His clothes were rough-and-tumble, many ripped and frayed. She loved his devil-may-care look.
Lady-killer with a big swinging dick? Oh yeah.
But she didn't need to be mooning over a player like him. Nothing mattered more than saving Thad from Nix. As she dressed, Jo replayed the madwoman's every word. Some things stuck out more than others.
The ground should be your best friend. . . . Why would you ever become tangible in a fight? . . . Your mind is your greatest weapon. Use it to strike; use it to defend. . . .
Had Nix given Jo pointers to help with her spy mission? Jo was leery about believing the Valkyrie, yet she got the sense Nix had been telling the truth. Great. Now all Jo had to do was figure out how to use her mind to strike.
The Valkyrie had also mentioned a woman. Had Nix been talking about the one in Jo's waking nightmare, the one who'd emitted power to shore up the sky?
Though Jo wasn't a trusting person (understatement), maybe she should reveal to Rune everything she'd learned and remembered. Damn it, where was he?
Another memory hit her. Just before she'd passed out, he'd told her he was off to . . . service a nymph harem!
Her eyes went wide. "Manwhore!" He was in bed with another female at this very moment. Or females, plural. Apparently, Rune wasn't starting to feel more for her.
That gigantic dickwad.
What was it with him and nymphs? She clenched her fists, and the lights flickered. The furniture vibrated.
She gasped. That hadn't happened since all those years ago at the morgue. She'd all but forgotten it.
Had she just moved the furniture with her mind? One way to find out. She returned to his museum, filled with his precious relics. His priceless ones. What better place to test an unpredictable power!
She eyed a small vase across the room. She inhaled, exhaled, then pictured lifting it. . . .
The vase wobbled!
Holy shit, she was telekinetic! More clearly she saw that vision of the crumbling world and the dark-eyed woman--she'd been using her hand to control her telekinesis.
Jo aimed her palm at the vase and tried to raise it. The thing shattered. Uh-oh. Hope he didn't like that one. She turned to another antique, a delicate-looking box atop a marble pedestal.
Pressing down telekinetically would have to be easier than lifting. She concentrated on flattening the box and waved her palm down. The box--and the pedestal--were crushed.
Awesome!
But she wasn't managing a focused beam like that woman's. Jo needed more practice. Rune's collection was making a great shooting gallery.
She turned to a medium-size bust of some man who'd probably written books Jo couldn't read. Asshole.
BOOM! She laughed as chunks of marble landed all across the room. Okay, not focused, but Hulk-smash was more Jo's style anyway.
Then came the real test. Would she be able to wield her telekinesis while ghosting?
She dematerialized. Floating like a speck of nothing, she gazed from one treasure to the next. Which one to practice on? He'd said these were war prizes, but she'd bet some were gifts from women he'd screwed.
When Jo pictured him in bed with beautiful nymphs--gazing down at them with those seductive eyes--a wave of power blasted from her mind.
The sound of destruction rang in her ears. Crashing, ripping, shattering. Once the dust settled, she blinked in disbelief. She'd trashed everything in the room.
Hulk. Smash.
He was overly proud of his home, would be furious when he saw the damage. Lady Shady gazed around with a discerning eye.
I'll smash it all to bits. Payback for hurting her heart.
She turned to the next room to practice some more. She'd been a killer before. With these new talents, she would be an undefeatable one.
She frowned. Nix had made it sound as if Thaddie was like Jo. If so, how could he cope with changes like these?
With the Valkyrie's help?
Jo had been forced to let MizB raise Thad; she'd be damned if Nix took over from here on out.
Change of plans, Nix. Jo would definitely be getting access to Thad, but not in the way the Valkyrie had envisioned. Jo wasn't going to spy on anyone; instead she'd do what she did best.
Before Rune got another chance at Nix . . .
I'm going to kill her.
THIRTY
Rune's face was buried between two of the finest nymph breasts in Loredom, his hands full of them, and he was kissing his way toward a taut nipple.
Just what he'd needed.
His soon-to-be-shed trews were the only thing preventing him from shoving inside his partner, Dalliance.
The word had been derived from her, the epitome of amorous toying. She had been for millennia. She had long black hair, wide gray eyes, and a body men had actually killed to possess.
She arched her back in readiness, her fingers threading into his hair. His lips closed around a nipple, but his teeth didn't click against a piercing. No warm metal teased his tongue.
Often imitated, never duplicated.
Concentrate on what you're doing! He knew what she liked, could satisfy her in his sleep. The two of them went way back, had shared clients and patrons, fucking for the entertainment of others at exclusive gigs.
Every now and then, they'd hook up for old times' sake. He'd selected her today, instead of a bevy all for himself.
The difference between him and Dalli? She'd chosen her line of work at the outset.
The night Magh had sold Rune to a brothel, he'd just seen his mother's grave and been devastated to learn of her fate.
Then he'd learned of his.
"You've been a whore for so long, I thought we should make it official," Magh said. "Here, you will please your customers, cur. Or perish. At the end of each night, a guard will raise a sword over your neck. If you were a good whore, you'll retain your life. The first complaint you receive will be your last. You had better hurry. Dawn nears, and no one in your long line appears . . . pleased."
The creature at the start of the line had been hideous, yet he'd known he would somehow have to pleasure her, to bury his disgust and ignore the blistering wrath he'd felt over his mother's death.
Please or perish. In the intervening years, many of his customers hadn't been "pleased" with anything less than his body beaten and bloody.
Concentrate. Soon Dalli would notice his distraction. He turned his thoughts to the vampire to stay hard.
His mind raced from one image of her to another. Her little fangs. Her incomparable curves that seemed made for him alone. Her ethereal face when she was about to come. Her flashing hazel eyes when she smiled.
He'd made her smile. She'd smiled in bed with him. Had thanked him.
No! The vampire loved another. All that had been an act. Everything about their night together had been false.
Dalli cleared her throat and sat up. "I called your name twice. But you're not even here, are you?" He didn't deny it. "I can always tell when you check out--your eyes glaze over." She knew more about his early centuries than anyone still living. She alone knew he feared becoming so deadened he'd never feel alive again.
"What's the problem, Dalli? My cock's hard enough."
"Please. I've seen you get it up for a pus demon."
He drew back and sat on the edge of her bed, head in his hands. "Lot on my mind." He stood and began to pace, bare feet silent on the plush carpet of her nest.
She pulled her robe back on. "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"
"It doesn't matter." Maybe on some level he'd suspected he wouldn't be in the moment. Maybe he'd chosen Dalli because he needed a friend more than a fuck.
"Clearly it does matter." Rays of sunlight stole inside from the carved-out window, catching her gray eyes. "Will you not confide in me?"
He shook his head. How could he possibly explain a creature lik
e Josephine?
"I don't ask where you go when you're not here," Dalli said. "I don't ask what you're doing with your life, or what plans you have for the future." She knew he was a secrets master in a shadowy alliance, but he'd given her no other details.
"Which is why we're still friends."
As if he hadn't spoken, she continued, "I've never asked those questions, because I could see for myself you weren't utterly miserable with your life."
He paused his pacing. "Why would I be?"
Dalli rose, heading to her wine service to pour them goblets. "Someone your age with no mate? No offspring? It wears on a soul."
"Speaking from experience?" She was almost his age, the oldest nymph he'd ever met.
"We're talking about you today. And how you are now completely, utterly miserable."
He scowled. "I just want to get laid. It's why I'm here."
"Uh-huh. This has got to be over a female."
"Why do you say that?"
She handed him a drink, then crossed to the settee with her own. "Give me some credit." Taking a seat, she motioned for him to join her. "I've been in the desire game for a long, long while."
He stabbed his fingers through his hair. "There is a girl. She's got me tied up in knots."
"I think you better bring the bottle over."
Good thinking. He grabbed it and joined her, setting it on an amber side table. He sank down beside Dalli. "I've only known her for four days." Out of the millions he'd lived. "In my lifespan, that's a blink of an eye." In Dalli's too.
"Do you think this girl could be the one?"
Maybe? No. No! "I will never have a mate. I've expected no destined female for myself."
"Because of your poison? I know how much you despise it."
I hate it so godsdamned much. Yet for a while, his hatred had faded--because Josephine bloomed whenever she fed from him. She'd craved him. But he didn't want to be dependent on a vampire just because she could tolerate his hated blood!
He didn't want to want someone who loved another.
Even if Josephine chose Rune instead, what kind of future would they have? He would never be exclusive with her, couldn't imagine spending the next several millennia in bed with one female.
Especially when his value to the Morior depended on him sleeping with others.
He emptied his goblet and set it aside. Forget the vampire. "Let's just do this." He rubbed the heel of his palm over his cock until he was hard enough. "Does it matter to you if I'm engaged or not? I'll make you purr. I always do."