Page 11 of Valkyrie Unknown

She pressed the tip of her knife to my throat. “Why the fuck are you here?” Her pleasant shell was gone, and anger bled from her voice.

I wouldn’t be worried about the blade—I could heal from most wounds near-instantly—but magical weapons were different. This one wouldn’t even let me hold it. I wouldn’t assume I was safe from the knife cutting me. “You said you remembered me. You told him my name.”

“I didn’t ask whoyou are. I asked why you’re here. Why the fuck are you back after all this time? No one asked you to find me.”

Technically, Freya did, but I doubted that would make Azzie feel any better. Despite my not wanting to be here, this stranger was intriguing as fuck.

Four

Azzie

There was somuch rage in my head. A level I shouldn’t have. I’d learned a long time ago to control my anger, but this was pushing me over the edge.

“Last Night” by Ian Carey was playing in my skull, with the bass coming in hard and Snoop Dog picking up the chorus with more enthusiasm than would be legal in a town like this. I needed a dozen ibuprofen and a billion more hours of sleep.

I wanted the pain to stop in so many ways, and instead, I was threatening an ancient bear, as if he couldn’t throw me across the room with a single slap.

I should be thanking him. Regardless of what happened when our paths crossed in the past, tonight he saved me. If he hadn’t been there, I would’ve been fucked. So why was I reacting this way?

“This is all but the last place I want to be,” Davyn said.

Of course it was. Because the last time I saw him, he left without a word. At least I didn’t get attached before I lost him, unlike Mom. Unlike Rayne. I tightened my grip on my knife, more to keep my hand from shaking than anything.

The rage surged in again. Every time I pushed it back, it returned. Where was this coming from?

Anger at Davyn, for not being a part of my life?Fuck him.

My vision swam.

“Azzie?” He was studying me, instead of showing any sort of fear.

He hurt you. Hurt him back.

No, really. What was my head doing?

I could ground myself by focusing on my surroundings. The pattern of the comforter, meant to hide stains as much as be attractive. The short carpet under my feet. Orange. Or was it brown? Did it use to be paler? The two queen-sized beds that seemed standard in every single one of these motels, regardless of brand, from here to Virginia.

A phantom ache ran through my forearm. The one he’d broken. The one that held me back for more than a year, as I tried to learn, and it fought to heal.

Davyn had my knife in a blink, but he dropped it with a snarl and stepped back.

Could I lunge for it before he stopped me? My fury swelled. This wasn’t normal. I shouldn’t be losing my control this way.

But a voice in my head was screaming at me to fight. To scream and kick and claw and fuck reason.

Like I said, I like a fight.That was one of the last things the wolf in the bar said. I slipped up with him and let down my guard at the wrong time.

I pressed a palm to my forehead, to push out an anger that wasn’t mine.

“Azzie?” Davyn asked again.

He was being patient. He wasn’t an enemy.

He is. He’s a beast. He’ll hurt you. Fight back.

This wasn’t me. “I think…” Talking was hard. I wanted to hurt. Why wasn’t this a problem with the police officer? That exchange had almost been like watching from outside my body. I barely recognized the Azzie holding that conversation.

He would have gotten in the way. I can handle this.

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