Beast of Burden (3 page)

“Spread your legs.”

Hall did, and Avarr propped a bolster under his hips for better leverage.

“Now watch me,” Avarr growled, his battle-cat very close to the surface. He angled his cockhead at Hall’s entrance and pushed slowly. Containing the urge to thrust hard and fast took everything he had in him.

“Yes. Oh fuck, yes.” Hall reached for him as Avarr continued to thrust deeper.

The heat surrounding him was his undoing, because Avarr couldn’t think past the need to bond to Hall. And Freya had said nothing about a permanent pairing, just sex.

Beyond caring, Avarr fucked his lover, letting his scent reach out and wrap around his new mate. Hall’s cock had become hard again, and with every new thrust, Avarr hit a spot inside Hall that turned the man into a ravaging beast. His eyes turned feline, the pupils now slits.

Hall’s fingers turned into claws and, to Avarr’s surprise, his had as well. Holding each other tightly, they dug into each other’s flesh, penetrating in more ways than one. The scent of blood, sex, and feline magic filled the room.

“Hall, make yourself come again. While I’m inside you.” Avarr grunted, his orgasm rushing fast to overwhelm him.

He pulled back to watch Hall jerk himself off, but he couldn’t stop himself from pumping. And then rapture overtook him, and Avarr roared and raked his claws down Hall’s chest. Furrows that bled and immediately healed soon stank of sweat and power as the mate bond took root. Blood, sex, and the lure of the heart—he and Hall were forever paired.

The powerful surge of energy extended to his orgasm, and Avarr shouted as he continued to come. Hall’s release landed all over his belly in a mess, but the smell of their enjoyment, the sight of so much seed and blood, satisfied his battle-cat’s need to mark his mate.

He twitched and felt darts of pain at his sides above his hips, where Hall’s claws had taken purchase.

“Shit. Sorry,” Hall rasped and removed his hand. He moaned when Avarr withdrew from his body and lay beside him.

After a while, when they’d calmed enough to talk without gasping, Avarr turned on his side and looked over his lover. “You’re a mess.”

“So are you. Those claw marks on your hip aren’t fading.” Hall’s satisfaction seemed to dim. “They won’t fade, will they? We mated.”

Avarr nodded and traced the marks he’d left on Hall’s chest. Ten lines, permanently scarred into his skin. “We’re mated. I didn’t mean to. It just…happened.”

Hall didn’t seem angry. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “All these years, we’ve been waiting for Eira—waiting for us, too.” He nodded. “We had to be one before we could become two—part of a whole. Freya’s family.” The valkyries considered themselves Freya’s children as well as Odin’s.

“We’re already her family.”

“In love, yes. Not by lineage. Battle-cats serve other gods, not like Freya’s shapeshifters and valkyries. If we take Eira to mate, then we join our blood to our goddess. Part of her in all ways.” Hall watched Avarr with what looked like worry. “Tell me true. Do you really want Eira, or is your acceptance of the valkyrie to make me happy?”

Avarr scowled. “Oh no. You don’t get to have Eira all to yourself. She’s
ours
.” To his relief, Hall seemed pleased.

“Good. You’re mine. Soon, she’ll be mine, too. Ours.” Hall grinned. “I can’t wait.” Then he glanced down at himself and grimaced. “Now how about we clean up? Because I have an assload of cum and a sticky belly as well.” He left the bed with Avarr and headed into their private bathing chamber. “Oh, and one other thing. We’re sleeping in your bed tonight because I’m not sleeping in that massive wet spot.”

Avarr laughed. “It’s all good, Hall. Just think. We can finally stalk and hunt down our prey. We’re ready. Time to melt our Little Snow.”

****

Eira spent the next few days keeping a wary eye on the visitors Freya allowed to roam Folkvang. She didn’t like it and neither did her sister valkyries, though the birds and battle-cats seemed to handle them well enough. Everything in Eira demanded she deal with the smug centaurs and sneering gorgons plaguing the feast hall. But Freya had demanded everyone play nice.

Eira
hated
nice.

As much as she hated being spied on.

“What do you want?” she yelled and whirled around, only to find herself face-to-face with…no one. But she knew someone had been watching her, as they’d been since the visitors arrived.

Itching to fight and relieve her frustration, she stomped away from the palace and met with Lowe and the others for a round of training in the field beyond the snow forest. Sun and warmth covered most of Asgard, but Freya liked to keep her pets happy, and many of them loved the cold.

While falcons and ravens fought overhead in massive air skirmishes, Eira took her bow and arrows and spear and hiked through the snow forest. She passed a few frost giants—the only giant friends the gods had—as well as polar bears, ice owls, and snow leopards. Beautiful cats, they smartly kept their distance. Eira might smell human, but she also resonated energy.

An odd contrast, her frail flesh, soft and supple, over taut muscle, god-power, and strength. She could die, but it took an awful lot to kill her. What would instantly end a mortal did nothing but tickle her. She’d take a day or two to heal then be back to full strength. Only a full-on beheading could sever her tie to her goddess.

Once through the snow forest, she found her friends messing around. After a few hours beating on Lowe and a few falcons brave enough to challenge valkyries, she waved at her friends and walked away, hoping for a little peace and quiet.

Now that she’d sated her battle lust, she wanted to go deep into herself and fix her internal vulnerabilities. A valkyrie prided herself on her ability to harness all her strength. Cunning, speed, agility—Eira had it all. So why did she constantly feel disquiet from deep inside herself?

She wished she knew. Leaving behind the training fields, she took herself off into the golden sway of the Sea of Grass and found a large, clear lake by Thor’s mountains. Since the god and most of his people had been spending more time in Midgard lately, she didn’t worry about encroaching on his territory. Besides, he liked Freya’s warriors. A little too much, rumor had it.

She smirked, amused at the apparent weakness in men. Gods, giants, human, or other, men the worlds over were often led by their dicks it seemed.

Not all men.

Her smile faded. Hall and Avarr didn’t seem to be led by much of anything, only duty.

“And what’s wrong with duty?” she asked herself as she stripped down to nothing and plunged into the cold water of the lake.

Swimming and letting the soothing water surround her, she concentrated on why that particular pair of battle-cats bothered her so much. They’d never been offensive. Far from it. She’d never seen them fight, so she wouldn’t call them terrifying. For some reason, everyone seemed to respect their supposed prowess. Battle-cats by nature were an aggressive species. Yet Hall and Avarr never acted like anything but gentlemen.

She wrinkled her nose and continued to float.
Bah. Gentlemen.
That was her problem. She wanted berserkers, battle-hungry monsters, death dealers. She couldn’t help it. A valkyrie could only be satisfied with strength. Not just the appearance of it, but an actual show of fortitude. For all that Hall and Avarr held prominence in Freya’s court, they had yet to show Eira that they deserved it.

If Freya knew Eira had doubts about her pets, she’d throw a hissy. Eira sighed and tamped down her frustration. It wasn’t the goddess’s fault Eira wondered about them. Hel’s bones, Eira questioned everything. She blamed it on Odin’s intelligence and Freya’s stubbornness—both gifts attributed to her, courtesy of her otherworldly parents.

In an attempt to find peace, she pushed all the negative thoughts from her and floated, taking respite from her nerves and letting her mind wander. Inevitably, fantasies of bloody battles turned into images of Hall and Avarr naked and grappling. With each other then with her.

She sighed and would have immersed herself in another fantasy of a rip-roaring three-way when her senses told her she was no longer alone. Calmly pushing herself to the edge of the lake, she rose from the water and picked up her spear, not at all concerned with her nudity.

Then she saw them. Three pushy centaurs and two randy fauns.

“Ah, look, Hero. A snack.” One of the centaurs laughed.

“I bet she tastes good. I’m hungry.” Another reared back, showing an impossibly large phallus that was getting nowhere near her.

“I hear the lightning makes them crackle when they come,” one of the fauns mused.
Horny bastard.
“Let’s find out.”

She smiled, more than ready to take care of these morons. Then two minotaurs arrived. Odd, because she hadn’t realized Athena and Mercury had brought any with them. They made decent enough opponents, she supposed. With the head of a bull and the body of a man, the minotaur frightened most with its size and strength. But nothing scared Eira. She thrilled at the chance to fight against overwhelming odds.

The battle would be anything but easy. The Greeks and Romans had apparently allied themselves together, for whatever reason. No matter. She readied to handle them.

Until a handful of mummies and wadjets—giant venomous snakes—arrived behind their priest, who smiled widely. The Egyptians, too? What the Frigg? Since when did other pantheons invade her goddess’s lands and attack her people without permission?

Uneasy as to what this might mean for Freya, Eira gripped her spear tight. Then all thought left as one of the minotaurs launched himself at her, and the fight was on.

Chapter Three

Granted, valkyries kicked serious ass, but even Eira admitted she was tiring. A four-on-one fight might be fair in Asgard, especially since her power tripled near her goddess. In its own right, her power could normally crush lesser beings. But against three centaurs, two fauns, two minotaurs, four mummies, and two wadjets, not to mention the cheerleading priest, she wasn’t faring well.

They came at her in pairs when one minotaur was enough to give pause.

She had an assortment of scratches and bruises, but she’d severed the legs of the fauns and taken out the eyes of one centaur. The other one that she’d nearly gelded refused to re-engage. The asshole.

“You fight well for a female,” the priest said, sounding surprised. “And especially well for a weak-willed Nordic peasant.”

She’d been using her spear, but now she rolled closer to her bow and arrows. She ducked the centaur standing over them and rolled under him then sliced into his belly. He screamed and reared back, and she grabbed her weapons, now able to strike more enemies with speed. She let fly two arrows, piercing the priest in the throat and one of the wadjets through its opened mouth. Then the minotaurs teamed up and grabbed her in their big, fat, hairy hands.

“Time to see how well you stand up to getting gored, little pretty.” One of them leered at her while the other dragged his sharp-ass horn across her chest. Hel’s bones, it
hurt
.

But she’d been trained to handle worse, and she refused to cry out.

She didn’t have to, apparently, because someone did it for her. Though it wasn’t so much a cry as a loud roar. The minotaurs dropped her like a hot coal and turned to confront something coming very, very fast. She heard the rush of heavy feet and the crackle of trees falling. Trees falling? Something big then.

A minotaur went flying. Then the other landed hard into the lake.

She blinked up to see a black battle-cat clawing through a mummy while the remaining centaur tried to creep up on him. A second battle-cat, also black, suddenly lost all its color. It disappeared and reappeared in an instant to tear into the centaur, scattering horse legs one way and a human torso another.

She had no idea if the centaurs could regenerate or not, but she didn’t want to get on Freya’s shit list. She’d been maiming, not killing. These cats… She gaped, sensing a familiar energy about the pair. “Avarr? Hall?” One of them glanced down at her and snarled, and she hastily scooted back on the ground.

It was Avarr, and he looked plenty enraged. No wonder everyone gave them such respect. He turned to confront the mummies and wadjet remaining, in addition to the shrieking priest trying to weave a spell while blood poured out his throat. She watched as what had to be eight hundred pounds of wild battle-cat crunched and batted through his enemies. Hall joined him, making short work of their opponents. They didn’t stop at those on their feet. The fauns and wounded centaurs also received no mercy.

As the fight wound down, she crept back to her bow and arrows and notched one.

From out of the ground in front of the priest, a dark hole appeared. She had no use for mages and let the arrow fly, notching it in his throat, hoping to stop his spell. He tried to pull it free, so she sent another next to it, lodging it in his neck. He toppled over, dark blood seeping from his wounds.

But the dark hole remained until a giant scarab crawled out of it. Bright red with neon blue pinchers and a venomous bile it could project at will, the scarab had been used with real effectiveness during many an Egyptian encounter. It was the juggernaut of the Egyptian pantheon’s arsenal, and three times the size of one battle-cat.

Not sure if she’d need to get help, because her arrows would do it no damage, she watched Hall and Avarr circle the thing, the great cats eyeing it like hapless prey.

“Guys? This thing is lethal. We should probably get help.” Valkyries were mighty in battle. But more, they were
smart
. Unlike berserkers, who threw themselves into a fight with brute strength and little thought but plowing everything down, a valkyrie survived by her wits as much as her weapons. Tacticians of the highest order, she and her sisters had Odin’s grit and Freya’s love of battle ingrained into their bones.