Page 56 of The Stolen Bride

Movement drew my attention to the side, and dread slapped me. A scene played over the walls, like a movie projected onto a screen. Viktor had sunk into another vargbane root coma. Would this happen every time he slept now? Poor Viktor. I stroked his fevered cheek. At least I knew he could battle his way free, both with and without me.

What scene did he showcase today? With both anticipation and regret, I left the warmth of his side, stood and tiptoed over for a closer study. Hmm. Okay. I pressed my palm over my roiling belly. I doubted he meant to broadcast this one. He stood in front of a stunningly beautiful woman with strawberry blond hair and clear blue eyes. She wore a royal gown of shimmering emerald, a match to his eyes. The bodice sparkled with countless tiny gemstones whilethe skirt billowed around her ankles. A crown of gold adorned with glimmering jewels rested atop her head. She grazed the tips of her nails over Viktor’s bare chest.

My back stiffened. A former love interest?

The projected Viktor gave a sharp shake of his head and backed up. A negation to whatever she’d said as well as her touch. The refusal didn’t deter her, and she tugged at the buttons of her bodice. Scowling, he gave another shake of his head and seemed to bark curses at her. She only worked the buttons faster. He reached out to stop her.

A wingless Deco strode into the room, spotted them, and blanched. When he gained his bearings, he stormed their way.

Oooh. This must have occurred before he’d signed on for Team Evil.

He got in Viktor’s face and shouted. Viktor shouted right back. Small pinpricks of red dotted Deco’s irises, soon forming a ring. Then another and another, until his eyes glowed. Within seconds, Deco launched at Viktor, swiping and snarling, wings budding from his back. The shifter king fought with the intention of murder while Viktor defended, never delivering a killing blow. Though he could have. Multiple times. I imagined growls echoing as the pair clashed in a primal rage.

In the wild frenzy, they slammed into the beauty—and she did not survive the encounter. She dropped, blood trickling from her mouth, her eyes dulling until no life remained inside them.

The men froze, the wrath between them momentarily forgotten. Then Deco dove to his knees and did everything in his power to patch her wounds. But he failed.

My hand fluttered to my throat as thewar between the two men began to make sense. Deco’s desire to hurt Viktor’s firebrand, whatever the cost. Viktor’s resistance to end his enemy. One sought vengeance, the other redemption.

Chapter

Fifteen

Finding Your Cinderella Moment When Every Dance is a Killer Tango

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

Iknelt beside the still sleeping Viktor, a sultry softness invading places inside me no other person had ever reached. I understood the King of Turuls so much better now. His unraveling. How he’d grown feral to separate himself from the pain of his friend’s loss. The guilt of accidentally killing the other man’s beloved. Depending on the powerful Valkara to help him. No doubt believing he didn’t deserve a happily ever after of his own.

I traced my fingers along the line of his strong jaw. Brighter flashes peppered the walls, as if my action inspired a new line of thought. A different scene danced there, the edges tattered as if it had been dragged through a briar patch. I saw an untamed forest, the ground carpeted by tangled roots, moss, and fallen leaves. An unnatural lightshrouded a grove the size of a football field, pulsing with colors.

A massive stone occupied the center, letters of an ancient language carved into the sides. Atop it balanced a spherical object that radiated an otherworldly energy I could almost feel. The outer shell glimmered with a mother-of-pearl exterior, with deep cracks stretching from top to bottom, dividing the object into ten distinct sections. Each glowed with a unique hue.

This must be the Starfire of legend. Which meant what I was viewing happened over a thousand years past. Lifetimes ago.

Viktor’s legacy.

My own.

I began to shake. A crowd encircled the stone, a varied group from every walk of life. Nobles, soldiers, peasants and everything in between. Mostly men with a handful of women woven in here and there. Viktor stood near the front.

In the sky, dark swirling clouds gathered above their heads. No one seemed to notice, yet tensions mounted. Wind whipped through the grove, scattering leaves and debris. Rain started to fall, soon pelting them. Still, the crowd inched closer to the Starfire, utterly transfixed.

Through the memory, I experienced the almost irresistible force luring everyone forward, hoping to touch the stone. In real time, my own hand lifted.

A bright flash of lightning raced across the scene, temporarily blinding me. Did the lightning come from the sky or the Starfire? With it came a surge of primal rage. Wave after wave of aggression. Unimaginable fury. Despite the lack of audio playback, I heard the curses bellowing between spectators as their bodies convulsed and their eyesflashed with neon rings. Viktor’s gold. Another’s green. His red. Hers blue. Purple. Blue. Shades in between, all the colors found on the Starfire.

I suspected what came next and shuddered. A red haze that fine-tuned the senses. An ice-cold force that took over and blotted everything else out. The need to cause death.

Except, the scene blurred and faded as war erupted, as if Viktor couldn’t remember the slaughter. Or hated facing the moment he first broke.

No other scene took its place. Maybe that was a good thing. As much as I wished to learn more, I knew we couldn’t stay here forever. Deco still prowled just out of reach, seeking my death as his vengeance. He’d probably sent a new group of shifters to hunt me. Plus, my mission hadn’t changed. I must rescue my sister as quickly as possible, which meant I needed a plan. And my partner.

I returned my gaze to Viktor. Hazy light from the crackling fire bathed him. Yet again, he appeared almost boyish, with his hair spilled beneath him, his features relaxed, his lips soft. Mostly, he struck me as beautiful. A complicated commander with a fierce spirit, a brusque manner, and a downright sizzling vibe.

Gently patting his cheek, I said, “Snarls. Tor. Baby. Vik. Pudding pop.” I should give him a better nickname. Something as good as Love. Err Lovie.

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