Calle woke to the feeling of energy both entering him and leaving him. He found himself nicely snuggled against Skaja, his hand resting on the wound on her stomach. Sunlight streamed in from the window and caressed his face. Golden magic exited his fingers and threaded through her, and to his relief, her expression looked much more relaxed than it had the night before.

As he watched her sleeping face, he could deny it no longer. He really was in love with her. The emotion frightened him. Love had the power to hurt. Fiercely. 

And with the future so uncertain... 

She shifted slightly and murmured, “Calle.”

“I love when you call me that,” he whispered, as she had usually only called him fae slave or fae prince up to this point. He nuzzled his nose against hers, earning him a flicker of a smile, but otherwise she remained asleep.

His lips curved into a soft smile. He wanted to wake up like this every morning. Beside Skaja. Smiles and sunlight and happiness. Minus her injuries, of course.

Noticing her still-fragile wings, new fears swirled like dense black fog in his head. The fear of losing her. The fear of never reaching his end goal. The fear of never gaining her affection.

His gaze darted to her dagger harness that lay on the table. Her daggers hadn’t been in there when he’d carried her back to the cottage. That must mean... 

The last place he wanted to venture was to the cliffs where she must have lost them. But he knew how much she loved her weapons. It was worth the risk just to witness her smile when she woke up.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. Her eyebrows crinkled when he stopped the flow of healing magic, but she continued to breathe deeply in sleep. 

He padded across the wooden floor of the cottage, pulled on his boots and cloak, but then he hesitated at the door. Uncertainty pulled his mouth downward as he glanced at his sword leaning against the wall. Did he need it anymore when he had his magic?

Skaja’s voice echoed in his memories. Always, always have a weapon.

At the moment, he had his magic. She had nothing.

Not wanting to leave her without a means of protecting herself, he leaned the sword against the side of the bed and quietly slipped out the door.

The early morning sunshine greeted him like a friend he hadn’t seen in years. His skin absorbed its power like a man desperate for a drink of water. It fueled his magic, flowing through every vein and every pore. Nothing blocked it anymore. He was blessedly free.

He lifted his face toward the rising sun and breathed in the fresh, woodsy air. Birdsong twittered in the boughs. Dewdrops glistened on fat green leaves. Small, woodland creatures scampered across his path. Despite the horror from a couple of nights ago, a few moments of peace reigned in the heavens.

At least until the overpowering stench of death and decay smashed into him.

Calle lifted his cloak to his nose in an attempt to block out the foul odor. His eyes watered and his stomach heaved. Streaks of blood littered the forest floor. A trail of bloodied weapons followed. And then bodies.

In the night, the bodies had been large lumps in the darkness. But in the daylight, they were bloodied people with reeking flesh.

A wave of nausea gripped his stomach as he scanned the damage from the night before. Dozens of bodies littered the cliffside, eyes staring vacantly in their twisted positions as flies feasted on their remains. He knew for a fact he’d only killed a few men.

The rest must have been Skaja.

His eyes widened at what a valkyrie was capable of. And with only two daggers. Not to mention she’d protected him at the same time. If he hadn’t been with her, how many more people would she have killed? How much more blood would be on her hands?

Am I the blackest of black? she’d asked the night before.

Now he understood why the topic concerned her.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to think, only that they’d been cornered by the enemy. Neither of them had had much choice but to fight.

A low growl sounded on his left, and he spun around with a start, only to find a pack of wolves scavenging for a meal. He backed away slowly. The wolf lowered its head, but it kept its eyes on him.

Wary of the wolves, he gingerly stepped across the mounds of bodies, searching for a pair of familiar daggers. He kicked a couple knives out of his way. He sifted through a pile of swords and spears.

But then the glint of familiar metal caught his eye.

Skaja’s dagger lay beneath a man, nearly every inch of the weapon coated in blood. The sticky substance stuck to the handle, and as he stooped to pick it up, he wondered how many lives had been taken by the blade.

A faint power pulsed through the dagger. Reaching. Calling. Summoning. A desperate need to reunite with its other pair.

He allowed the power to guide him. But he stopped short at the edge of the cliff. Waves crashed below him, tearing and clawing at the sharp rocks below. More bodies remained stuck between the unforgiving depths of the ocean and the jutting rocks. Dark red slicked the very bottom.

His stomach heaved again.

Wherever the dagger lay, it was likely long gone by now. Skaja would be disappointed.

However, the magic inside the dagger continued to call out. He hesitantly pulled on the tiny thread. Without warning, the second dagger shot out of the depths below, hurtling his way, and he barely managed to duck in time to avoid the slicing blade.

The tip of the dagger embedded itself in a nearby tree with a thunk.

“All this time and I didn’t even know,” he chuckled to himself as he braced his foot against the tree and yanked the dagger out. “Where did you get this, I wonder?”

When one of the wolves growled again, he turned around and left the cliffside at as quick of a pace as he dared. The creatures didn’t follow. The further he traveled, the fresher the air. His stomach settled into a calm relief.

A burbling stream caught his attention as he stepped within earshot. Soft forest foliage carpeted each of his footfalls. Birds continued to sing in the boughs above him. Sunshine broke through the trees overhead in lovely spurts. The promise of a new, happy day smiled down from the skies.

And his mind filled entirely of Skaja.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her dedication. Even her occasional awkwardness. He loved it all.

He crouched beside the small river and dipped the daggers into the water to clean them. Tendrils of red billowed off the blades, disappearing with each dunk and each splash. Giddiness rose within his chest as a blanket of warmth when Skaja’s possible reaction entered his mind. She would be happy to see these. He knew it.

A small, reflective circle shone on the tree in front of him, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It reminded him of his younger years when he and Joel had used knives to reflect light into the faces of nobles during a feast. 

The back of his neck prickled with awareness, and with a start, he realized someone stood behind him.

His magic reacted on instinct, forming a long, sturdy rod between his fingers. He spun around just fast enough to block the stabbing movement of a dagger aimed for his back.

The blood in his body turned to ice. Cold, despairing fear crawled into his trembling fingertips. Dark brown eyes, almost black, stared back at him. In the darkness of the Pits, she had been weaponless and far less terrifying. But seeing her now in her fierce valkyrie leathers right after witnessing what Skaja was capable of... 

Inari’s eyes widened in recognition the moment her gaze landed on his hair. “You!” she gasped. Slowly, a grin spread across her face. Evil. Excited. Triumphant. “You.”

“Bloody daggers,” he groaned moments before she delivered a lightning fast, expert kick to his stomach. He stumbled backward and barely managed to catch himself against a tree before she attacked again.

She swiped her dagger at his neck, and he dodged out of the way only for the tree to receive the slice. 

In his awkward, unprepared stumbling, he struggled to recall the things Skaja had taught him. Anticipate where I’ll be before I get there. Move quicker when on the offensive and widen your stance when on the defensive.

He ducked beneath her next attack before squaring his shoulders and planting his feet. Inari moved wildly in a dance of silver and feathers. He blocked one attack. Then the next. And when she spun, the feathers in her hair fluttering from the movement, he sidestepped with fancy footwork he’d learned from Skaja and struck Inari in the side.

She gasped and stumbled several feet before spinning back around with one hand clutched to her side. “I know that move. What have you done with Skaja?”

Before he answered, a feral screech escaped her mouth as she produced the staff strapped to her back, swung it with impossible speed, and smashed it against the side of his skull.

Dizziness spun with the shadows in his head, but he didn’t dare give into its tempting pull. He caught himself on the ground and rolled out of the way of her staff as the wood scattered the dirt where his face had been moments before.

He scrambled to his feet and allowed his magic to flow through his fingertips. The transparent golden rod in his hand elongated and sharpened into something deadly. If he didn’t kill Inari first, his hair would hang from her staff like the dozens of others swaying with each of her swings.

Fear pulsed in his veins as he desperately tried to keep himself alive. He’d seen what Skaja was capable of. If Inari wanted to finish him quickly, she would have done it already.

They met each other blow for blow, his golden sword against her dagger. Pain hissed through his arm when he left himself open on his left side. Warmth trickled down his skin. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Inari to look.

Calle ducked behind a tree to put an object between them. But it was as if she moved through the shadows because one moment, she ran toward him, and the next, she trapped him against the trunk.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

One swing he managed to block. Another hacked the tip of his hair. And the next sliced his cheek.

Stinging pain briefly clouded his mind. One moment his back dug into the rough bark of the tree, and the next, he found himself on the ground with Inari poised with her dagger above him.

His magic rushed to protect him, and instead of holding a sword, he carried a golden shield. Her image shimmered like a mirage as she stabbed downward. The shield held.

She stabbed again. The shield cracked.

After one more stab, the magical shield shattered like fragile glass. His heart thundered in his chest as he willed his magic to pool to his fingers, but it wasn’t rushing to him fast enough. He’d already used too much.

Inari lifted her hands and was about to stab downward when a blade pressed against her throat. The valkyrie froze.

“Kill him, and consider our friendship over,” Skaja said in a deadly calm manner, but the dark intensity in her eyes betrayed her fury. 

And her fear.

He scrambled for the knife in his boot and pointed it at Inari’s stomach. Even then, he felt far too defenseless, as he doubted even a simple knife could stop her.

“Skaja?” Inari gasped as she slowly climbed to her feet. “You’ve been gone for weeks! Paula sent me to find you. I thought...I thought this man might have hurt you. He had your daggers.”

Skaja never lowered her weapon, though she stepped between them as if to act as a protective barrier. Her wings drooped considerably. Dirt coated the tips of her feathers from dragging on the ground. Although she wore one of her own outfits, she wore no shoes, which revealed the ribbons of scars on her legs. 

Her knees trembled, whether from weakness, fear, or something else, he didn’t know.

His own hands shook with the realization that he’d almost died. So quickly, a radiant morning had turned to bloodshed.

He swiped at his cheek, only for a smear of blood to come back on his hand.

“Why are you protecting him?” Inari asked, peering over her shoulder where Calle attempted to pick himself off the ground. He found it difficult between all the cuts he sustained, his spinning head, and ringing ears. “He’s a man. The very one I have been looking for. You already know that.” 

“I don’t care.”

Inari’s eyes widened. “What have you done, Skaja? Did you...? You rescued him from the Pits! And you lied to me about it. You said you never saw him.”

“Yes, I lied. But so did Paula.” Skaja glanced over her shoulder at him. Fear still remained in the depths of her eyes. “By valkyrie code, I lay claim to this man. You cannot harm him unless you want to face me in a duel to the death.”

Claim... 

A duel to the death... 

Heat scorched his neck at the lengths Skaja was willing to go to protect him. He knew for certain he had released her from her blood oath. Something other than duty spurred her actions.

“I claimed him first!” Inari argued. “In the Pits.”

“No, you didn’t. Not officially.”

They argued further. Skaja kept her sword raised.

In all his life, he had never been fought over by two women, and definitely not by two valkyrie women with one intent on taking his life and the other intent on protecting him. Although he had no desire to harm Skaja’s friend, he would if it meant keeping his locks of hair off her staff. He’d come too far to end up a valkyrie trophy.

“So...what?” Inari finally said when she threw up her hands in resignation. “You’ve been hiding out here? With him? Is he your lover?”

Skaja’s ears turned red. “No. He’s my...friend.”

“Friend?” The other valkyrie’s expression twisted into shock and appall. “You’re willing to die for him and kill me for him. He’s not just your friend.”

Her ears turned a brighter shade of red, and for one moment, hope slithered past his trembling fear. Perhaps she returned his affection more than he realized.

Sticky blood trickled down the side of his face, blinding him in one eye. He wiped it away, only to realize his head stung and ached. Inari had given him a good beating. Exhaustion weighed down on his shoulders. Exhaustion and dizziness. She’d clubbed his head hard.

“Put your weapon away,” Skaja ordered. “Go back to your home.”

“It’s your home too. You’re coming with me.”

“No, it’s not. Not...anymore.”

Thankfully, Inari tucked away her dagger, and Skaja lowered the blade. He took several staggering steps toward the river where he’d left the weapons. A ray of sunlight broke through the trees above, and he latched onto it, breathing it into himself until it smoldered in his core like fire. Magic healed him enough to walk straight.

But what he wouldn’t give for somewhere to sit. Or lie down.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Skaja watching him with worry in her eyes, but she remained standing between him and the other valkyrie.

“Then I’m not leaving here without you,” Inari continued, arms crossed. “And I promise I won’t harm a hair on your beau’s head.” She muttered under her breath as she stared at his hair. “No matter how much I want to.”

Through the haze of red still dripping in his eye, he pointed one of Skaja’s daggers at her. “Don’t think I won’t be ready for you next time. And why would you try to kill me if you think I harmed your friend? Wouldn’t you try to get information first?”

Inari grinned. “Kill first. Ask questions later.” But then her smile fell. “Skaja, what happened to your wings?”

“It’s a long story,” she sighed.

But even so, she gave a quick summary on their way back to the cottage. Calle followed behind the two valkyries, not daring to turn his back on Inari for a single second. His dizzy mind still spun. His body ached. More than one cut leaked trails of blood. Although Skaja kept glancing at him worriedly, she did nothing to help. Almost as if she were afraid to show any amount of concern in front of her friend.

When they finally reached the cottage, he slumped onto one of the few logs surrounding a dormant fire pit. A fierce ache pounded in his temples, and his caution of Inari flew out the window as he lowered his head into his hands. 

How many times had Skaja saved his life now? He was useless without her. His fighting skills were average, and somehow, he ran into danger at every turn. On his own, he couldn’t imagine himself surviving a single fortnight.

“Here,” Skaja murmured as she sat beside him and pressed a cold cloth to his head.

He winced at the pain, but kept his eyes closed to hide the way the sting summoned tears to his eyes. She dabbed at the wound before moving to the one on his cheek.

“A shallow cut,” she commented. “Might not leave a scar on your pretty face.”

“Huh?”

He opened his eyes to find her blushing from head to toe. A grin twitched at his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Her gentle hands continued to dab at the cuts, but her gaze evaded his. As if to change the subject, she said, “Inari went off to find the griffin she left behind. She promised not to kill anyone while here, especially not you or Joel.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Also, I think you are beautiful.”

The red in her cheeks darkened. Once again, she tried to change the subject. “I was right. You would never make it on your own. I’ve had to save your sorry arse too many times now.”

True and true. 

“I will have you know...I fought against three chupacabras and lived. You were definitely wrong.” 

When her gaze darted to him in her initial surprise, his entire being melted. He desperately wanted to close every last inch between them. He caressed her jaw with the non-bloody parts of his fingers, holding her face captive between his hands. Wide, brown eyes stared back at him, but rather than a frigid storm glaring back, warmth burned hot and bright. Her lips parted, and even in her injured state, her wings moved slightly in response to his touch.

His words escaped as a husky whisper. “May I kiss you again?”

“Calle...” A sweet vulnerability claimed her expression, and her hand covered one of his. “You are covered in blood. Perhaps you should worry about healing your injuries first.”

“I can’t. I’m saving my magic for you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say he loved her but shut it just as quickly. Too soon.

Much too soon.

Instead, he jested, “I rescued your dagger from the sea, and a pack of wolves stared at me as I did it. Not to mention facing the wrath of a valkyrie. A kiss on the cheek then? Hand maybe?”

Her eyes closed and her chin trembled, inciting a frown rather than a smile. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “Inari is my friend but being on the other end of her blade is a dangerous place to find yourself.”

“How did you find me?”

A shrug lifted her shoulders, but then she placed her free hand over her heart. “I felt it in here. My heart was calm, and then suddenly it wasn’t. As if I was feeling your fear.”

Gingerly, he removed her hand from her chest and replaced it with his own. His other hand rested on his chest. Surprise jolted his heart, and in turn, hers skipped to the same beat.

“Synchronized heartbeats.” His smile grew wide, and despite how the action pained his face, it remained steady. “My healing magic is flowing through you, still attaching you to me. It’s only temporary. But we can make it permanent.”

The coy innuendo hugged the space between them.

“What do you mean...permanent?”

“By binding two souls with a blood exchange.”

For several long moments, she stared back at him as if trying to understand it in her mind. “It’s magic?”

“Perhaps a magic of the universe, but not my magic.”

“Have you...done this with anyone else before?”

Her voice betrayed her hesitancy and wariness, and he knew she thought of a certain young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. “If you mean Nyana, no. I haven’t done it with anyone. But I’m willing to do it with you.”

“Why?”

Their hearts beat quickly as one as he lifted his hand to hers. Finger to finger. Palm to palm. “I thought I already made that plenty obvious.” 

Someone a little way behind them coughed gently, and then hacked before they jumped apart. 

Joel.

That bastard.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there,” he wheezed, coughing once more into his fist. He stood at the edge of the clearing, dressed in a green tunic with brown pants, boots, and a matching forest green cloak over his shoulders. A packed bag was slung over his arm.

Joel’s eyes widened when he glanced at Calle. “What in the hell happened to you?”

Inari chose that moment to walk into view with one hand carrying her staff of hair and the other leading a griffin by leather reins. She grinned from ear to ear the moment her gaze landed on Joel’s hair. “Well, hello there.”

Skaja pulled Calle to his feet and led him away from the other two. He glanced over his shoulder, his heart racing with concern.

“We shouldn’t leave them alone.”

“Inari promised to play nice,” she reassured, finally pulling him around the corner of the cottage and out of view. “I wanted to give you something before I can’t anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed quizzically before he inhaled sharply as she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Sparks of heat burst to life where their lips touched. 

Despite her bold advance, her hands hovered with uncertainty. He grabbed them and placed them on his shoulders. His fingertips skimmed her back, her sides, and then he pulled her closer to him by the waist.

Every ache, every fear, every uncertainty fled his mind as he wrapped his arms tighter around her, never wanting to let her go. He dug his fingers through her silky hair and pulled gently to tip her head at an angle to give him better access. His tongue skimmed the seam between her lips, requesting permission. 

Her body froze against him, once again uncertain.

But the moment her lips parted for him, he explored slowly. Carefully. The faintest whimper sounded in the back of her throat. The heat of desire smoldered in his core as he tasted her scent of jasmine and midnight skies.

The quick taste wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Much more.

However, he needed to take this slow with her. Agonizingly slow. No matter how fast she slipped into his heart.

He kissed her tenderly a couple more times, and on the last sweet kiss, she held it for a few long moments before she broke it and hurried away without looking back.

A soft smile tugged on his lips as he touched his mouth and watched her beautiful golden-white wings disappear around the corner of the cottage. His heart thrummed quickly, and he knew his wasn’t the only one dancing to a wild beat.

And she hadn’t even slapped him.