Page 56 of Their Property
T-Bone’s face hardened and he pulled Kyrie to him with his good arm, cradling her against his chest as he returned to his feet.
“Get the bikes ready,” he growled to Dyno and me. “We’re leaving.”
SEVENTEEN
KYRIE
The valkyrie looked to be in a pensive mood.
She was relaxed, sitting on top of a boulder in the same foggy landscape I’d seen in this dream before. For once, her hands were free. Her shield and axe leaned against the rock while she looked off somewhere in the distance.
The raven was there too, preening his feathers and making soft vocalizations rather than his intense cawing sounds.
“I’m somewhere safe,” I heard myself say. “And you know this. You know when I’m in danger or not.”
The woman’s head tilted just a fraction, the corner of her mouth lifting like she was pleased with my observation.
“Can you speak?” I asked her. “Do you understand me?” She didn’t respond, and I repeated the questions in Icelandic. If she was a figure of ancient Norse legends, maybe she needed to hear a language close to her own.
Again, I got no answer from her. But I wouldn’t be deterred that easily.
“Who are you?” When she didn’t react to that, I tried, “Who amIto you?”
That got her attention. Her head turned slowly until she looked at me straight on. I still couldn’t see her eyes or the top half of her face. Only her nose, mouth, and chin were visible under her winged helmet.
The valkyrie laid her forearms on top of each other, hands near her elbows. Then she gently swung her arms from side to side, as if rocking a baby.
I woke up aching everywhere.My feet, arms, legs, even inside my lungs and throat. Turning over in bed, I was beyond relieved to find a glass of water on the nightstand and gulped it down greedily.
Once my thirst was sated, it took me a moment to get my bearings and figure out where I was. This wasn’t my suite at the Sevier capitol. The room was much smaller, barely bigger than the futon I had just slept on. Wood paneling covered the walls—a dated design choice, but the tiny bedroom was cozy and my bed had been piled high with blankets. I wrapped one around my shoulders as I slid my feet to the floor.
I winced at the ache shooting up my legs the moment I put weight on them. Why did everything hurt so much? I sat back down and leaned forward over my lap, rubbing my pounding head as the night before returned to me in disjointed flashes.
Running barefoot over a stone floor, my hand clenched in T-Bone’s. Coughing endlessly, fighting to breathe while he slammed his fists, shoulder, and foot into the door over and over. And then staring up at a fiery sky with the three Sons of Odin huddled closely around me. My head shot up with a gasp as it hit me all at once. Explosions. Screaming.
T-Bone kissing me.
How messed up was it that the capitol had been attacked but my mind latched onto that kiss above all else? I brought my bruised fingers to my lips, remembering the friction and press of him against me, his tongue invading and claiming my mouth. It had completely overwhelmed me but in the best way. A familiar heat rushed between my legs, concentrating there now just as it did last night.
I stole another nervous glance at the bed, walls, and simple furniture in the small bedroom. Was this…his house?Theirhouse? It dawned on me that I knew so little about the Sons outside of their work life. Did they all live together, as married partners would?
Only one way to find out.
My second attempt at getting out of bed was more successful than my first, despite my feet still killing me. Pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, I made my way to the door and slipped out of the room.
A much larger, open room greeted me on the other side. It reminded me of our shared loft in the capitol, with a couple of couches and armchairs around a stone fireplace. There was a bar and open-concept kitchen at the far end and a dining table where someone was using a sewing machine.
The machine whirred softly, the sound accompanied by a soft humming from the person bent over it in concentration. I walked toward them, my steps light on my tender feet. “Um, hello?”
The machine stopped and its user looked up. A black woman, probably in her thirties, blinked at me in surprise, her long eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks. “Sleeping Beauty finally awakens,” she said by way of greeting. Her voice was low and warm, with a soft rasp to it that made me feel immediately at ease.
I certainly didn’t feel beautiful though, and I ran a self-conscious hand through my tangled mess of hair. “Guess I’ve been out a while, huh?”
“Almost a full day.” She tossed a long braid over her shoulder as she got up from her chair. “Have a seat. You hungry?”
“Yes, thank you.” I nodded and slid into the chair next to hers at the sewing machine. Up close, I could see that she’d been sewing a patch of a black fist onto a leather Sons of Odin cut. I glanced up at her putzing through the kitchen.
“I’m Tiff.” She pulled items from the fridge as she spoke, turning a dial on the stove until it clicked three times and blue flames appeared on a burner.
