Page 120 of The Last Valkyrie

These weren’t the feathery wings of angels, but rather the scaled, leathery tools of dragons and demons that brought unique sensations of their own to our coupling.

Sven couldn’t hold on and pumped his cum deep into my womb, stepping aside only so Grim could take over and do the same—mingling the two men together and turning me into an absolute mess.

It was the most erotic night of my life—the night I lost control over my dragonkin power and let the wings join the fun, all while Magnus utilized his shadows and put me on a literal pedestal of darkness so these five men could fuck me into oblivion and make me forget about every awful thing I knew was to come.

If this was going to be our last night of peace, it was everything I’d needed and more. It showed me their unbound love for me, their total inability to reserve and control themselves when they were around me in a heated situation.

It showed how I commanded their every need, want, and desire, and how that would never change, no matter what we faced ahead.

Chapter 38

Ravinica

FROTHY WHITE WATERFALLSspilled down the planes of my mind. Perhaps it was innuendo for the unhinged night I had with my men, before promptly falling asleep well-fucked and satiated.

In my dream, I looked up at the torrential water from below, getting spattered with drizzle along my front.

More innuendo, surely.

I smiled . . . but the smile fell away as something familiar took over. An odd sensation that I was being watched, even in this strange, peaceful dream set in the middle of nature.

A green jungle surrounded me, the sun shining bright in the sky. Insects clicked and birds flew overhead, and I was reminded of Folkvang, that unbelievable, storybook land the goddess Freyja called home.

Here, nature ruled.

“Past, present, future,” a voice said in my head.

I spun away from the waterfalls, my brow furrowing. “Who’s there?”

My voice echoed off the leafy trees and branches around me, no one answering.

“One is decided, one is happening, and only one is yet to be determined, Ser’karioth.”

I recognized the voice.

A shape took form in front of me, emerging from the thick tree line, out of the one dark patch the sun couldn’t hit in my dream.

He wore a gray coat of fur, sword strapped to his waist. A burly figure with kind eyes, discerning eyes. Smiling at me, his black-and-gray hair glinted in the sun.

“Swordbaron Korvan?” I croaked.

This was the man who had raised me. Taught me to be a fighter.Notthe wicked being I had encountered recently at Selby Village.

Yet everything inside me told me that Korvan’s smile was wrong. Unreal.

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