Page 81 of The Last Valkyrie

“No, I think not, younglings,” Korvan said in a silvery-smooth voice. He flicked his hand in our direction, eyes flashing pink, and spoke an order. “Go.”

My half-brothers faced our group.

Canute gained his bearings and lunged at the winged creature—

Korvan slammed his wings into that great tower shield and used it as a diving board, sending him fluttering up into the sky with Ma wrapped in his arm. He slapped the air with his wingsa few times and gained more height, getting smaller, getting away . . .

With rage and uncontrollable madness spilling a curtain of darkness around me, I summoned my dragon wings and inadvertently pushed my mates away as they sprouted from my back and snapped open.

I hardly knew what to do, but instinctively my body reacted andpushed, launching me up into the air—

Only for a hand to grab my ankles.

Shocked, I looked down as my wings flapped fruitlessly.

Grim was holding onto me, a regretful, pained expression on his face. “Vini, no, please! He’s too powerful for you alone!”

I tried to kick his hands off me, not wanting to listen to my largest mate . . . yet I knew he was right.

Sven yelled, “Rav, your brothers!”

I veered my eyes to where Korvan had been standing, and found Damon and Eirik with their weapons drawn . . .

And their eyes were pitch black.

They looked like fucking aliens from another planet.

“No, oh gods,” I whispered, slamming back to the ground on my feet. “Eirik! Damon!”

From a pocket of the village not far from us, screams erupted. Not the shocked screams of people seeing the Gothi getting his throat slit in front of everyone, but the cries of anguish and fear that came from an attack.

I heard the steel a second later, and saw the first hint of smoke and fire in the purple sky.

“We’re under attack!” screamed one villager.

“What are they?!” yelled another.

Dark shapes spread into the clearing in front of my longhouse, red eyes like predator wolves searing through the dark gloom. Black blades rasped out of scabbards. I noticed a telltale white knot of hair atop one of the figure’s heads.

“Dokkalfar!” Corym wailed.

My elven mate spun and met blades with Gresh’kellen, a heartbeat away from getting skewered by the dark elf emerging from the shadows.

I quickly counted the dancing shapes as they took up arms against me and my families.

All seven of the remaining dark elves from the elf portal were here, in Selby Village, laying waste to the town, its inhabitants, and the men I loved.

I tried to call the power of my dragonkin lineage into my muscles, my bones, my veins, but I couldn’t focus long enough—

Sliding steel met my spear. I twirled the blade away with spinning wrists, dancing backward.

Sven and Grim joined each other to face another foe directly beside us.

Across the overturned table, Hallan drew a sword from his belt, made two quick moves against the dark elf nearest him—

And grunted as his sword swept through air, while the ducking Dokkalfar dragged his blade across my stepfather’s belly.

Hallan stumbled back as his guts spilled out of his stomach, groaning in shock and awe at the steaming pile of innards plopping on the ground in front of him.

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