Lion of Midnight (28 page)

“Yes.”

The single word made her legs shake. Cleo wanted a place to sit down.
And a paper bag because I’m seriously close to hyperventilating.

Serge waved his hand, and he disappeared, leaving in his place a tall voluptuous woman. Her hair shone like the blackest night and hung down her back with the exception of a thick braid around her scalp. Pale skin was covered in a remarkable and elegant gold dress that shimmered, giving off a glow around the woman.

“Freya,” Cleo said in shock.
Oh, this is getting to be too much.

“Why have you summoned me?” Slanting her gaze, Cleo noticed people seemed to look right through her. “They cannot see us. Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Cleo forced herself to stare directly at Freya. “Nik.”

“I cannot break his service to Loki. I am sorry.”

“No. Hear me out. I want you to send me back.”

Freya’s eyebrows shot up, and Cleo knew she’d shocked the goddess. “Why do you want to go back?”

“Nik sacrificed himself for me. I can’t live with that on my conscience. Especially not when I may be able to get him back where he belongs.”

“To you?”

Lifting her chin, Cleo responded. “To this time. I won’t demand he be with me.”

“You are full of bravery.”

“Not at all. I’m so scared I want to throw up, and my legs feel like they should have given up long ago. Will you send me?”

Freya sighed, looked at her hard, assessing what she saw.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nik whirled and thrust his sword into the belly of the man he fought. Lifting it, he nearly cleaved him in two. Withdrawing, he ignored the man who collapsed and, instead, turned to his master. Loki. The screams and cheers of the spectators meant nothing to him. He’d been forced to become a prizefighter, a gladiator.

Dropping the bloody sword, Nik continued on past the armed guards toward the small room he now called home. Well, for their duration in this spot. He waited, knowing full well Loki would be along soon. Sure enough, he showed up, disguised as a rich man with three women in tow.

“Good fight tonight, Nik,” Loki said from the doorway. “I even brought you a gift. Some of my finest.”

“Take them with you,” he bit off.

“Why would you turn them down? They’re here to please you.”

Nik raked his gaze over each of the women before staring back at Loki. “Leave them, then, but I tell you now, they won’t be alive come morning.”

Loki’s eyes widened slightly. “Why would you do that?”

“Because they mean something to you.” His tone full of harsh promise.

“I’d kill you.”

“Good,” he growled.

Understanding flared in Loki’s gaze. “Oh, no. I’m keeping you around. I like having you as a pet. Rest up; we leave tomorrow.” He walked away, the women following behind him, and closed the door.

Nik sat down, ignoring the sweat and blood on his body. They’d be along soon enough with water for him to bathe.
Cleo
. He closed his eyes and called forth her image. Her large eyes focused on him with love in their depths.

I love you, Cleo.

Being separated from her was pain. He cared nothing for the injuries he got fighting. They were minor.

“I’d do it all over again if it was the only way to save you, Cleo,” he muttered.

Once the water arrived, he washed quickly and lay down, wishing it would end. Praying for salvation from this pain.

He rode his gray the next morning as they headed for the next destination. His mind drifted as they rode. It touched on his brother and family, Vassi, and, of course, Cleo. The enticing aroma that seemed to touch her flowed over his skin, sending tiny pinpricks of electricity through him. Nik jerked and scanned the area, senses attuned to any and everything. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet, he felt uneasy. Antsy.
Like the day I met Cleo.

That night, he lay under the stars and fell into an restless slumber. The feeling never left, and even as he battled, four days later, it still remained with him.

“You know, Nik, you need a woman,” Loki said one night after Nik had finished his fights.

Stopping by his table, Nik glared at him. “Don’t you have other mortals to torment?” he hissed in a low tone. “Maybe battle yourself, instead of sitting so much.”

“No one could come close to defeating me.” Loki shrugged. “And you mortals are a source of amusement.”

The crowd was loud and very full of drink.

“Are you saying there isn’t a greater swordsman than yourself?” a nearby man asked with a loud belch.

“Exactly,” Loki said, running a hand down his fine attire. Nik snorted in disgust.

“I know one who could.” A different voice, feminine this time, spoke.

Nik watched Loki’s eyes grow hard. The din faded, and the crowd moved slightly. He figured the person who’d made the comment was coming closer. A wave of protectiveness swelled within him, and he frowned.

“No one can beat me,” Loki insisted. “And I don’t fight women. No sport in it. I have other things in mind to do with wenches.” He laughed rudely. “Who do you claim can beat me? And why do you hide your face?”

“The Lion of Midnight.”

Nik’s skin prickled.
No.

A cloaked figure pushed through and stood before them.

Loki glanced at Nik and the men surrounding them. “I could defeat the Lion of Midnight,” he announced. “But I already own him, why would I want to fight him?”

“I didn’t think you were scared to fight a bleeding man.” The response was dagger sharp.

Nik put his attention on the caped woman.
Could it be?
He reached out toward the person, only to have Loki grab his arm. Snapping his gaze to the god, Nik arched a brow.

Looks like you get your wish, mortal. I will kill you this time.

Nik was sore, he bled already, but he was more than ready. A sneer curved up one side of his mouth. “Let’s do it.”

“Bring him a sword,” Loki announced.

Nik was shoved back into the fighting pit and tossed a sword. He kept scanning for the small figure. Loki jumped in, sword in hand.

“Wait.”

All eyes landed back on the covered figure. She stood near the edge.

“That isn’t the Lion of Midnight’s sword. Come on, you know that, Loki.”

Nik willed the person shrouded by a dark brown cape to expose her face. But he kept his gaze on Loki. The god had been pretending to be human so people would bet against him. Now, the secret was out.

“Show yourself!” The god’s demand fell in a low growl.

“Will you fight him? A god against a man who has defeated many already tonight?” A short pause. “Or am I right, and you’re scared?”

“I. Am. Not. Scared. We gods fear nothing.”

“Good. Then, give him
his
sword.”

The cape and hood disappeared, and Nik found himself gazing up at a sight he never believed he would see outside of his dreams, again. Cleo.

Nik stared. That was all he could do. She took his breath away. His body knew who it was, and it moved him toward her. Reaching up, he hauled her down into the pit and into his arms. Then, he kissed her. Devoured her. Life poured into him as her taste was reintroduced to his system.

Cleo. My Cleo!

“Enough!” Loki’s voice cracked like a whip.

Nik growled low, ending the kiss. He turned, deliberately keeping Cleo behind him. She ignored the silent order and stepped out before him. Loki had returned to the form by which Nik knew him best. Handsome and arrogant.

Chin held high, Cleo looked down her nose at Loki. “Give him his sword.”

“Cleo, stop,” Nik said.
What the hell is she doing here? She’s supposed to be safe. Not back here with me.

“And when I win?” Loki asked.

“You have two slaves instead of one.”

“No!” Nik thundered. “Don’t listen to her.” Spinning Cleo so she faced him, Nik shook his head. “Don’t, Cleo. Get out.”

She took one of his hands, brought it to her mouth, and kissed the palm. Then squeezed it. “I can’t Nik. Trust me. Believe in yourself. You can beat him.”

I can’t risk it.

Glancing past her to Loki, Nik watched him hold up a hand, and before his eyes, his sword appeared in it. Palm up, Loki released it, and as if plucked out of the air itself, it floated across the space between them. Nik stared at Blood Drinker. Loki had relieved him of it the day he’d traded his life for Cleo’s freedom. With his right hand, he grabbed the hilt and sighed as the familiar weight sank into him.

Cleo tightened her hold, and he felt something sharp in his palm. She let go and stepped back. Staring into his hand he saw a blue stone. Without looking closer, he knew it was the one from her necklace. The one that would make his sword complete, again.

Turning the hilt, he replaced the piece as Loki blabbed on. The sapphire shimmered and became whole. With one look at Cleo, whose expression was full of her belief in him, he hefted the sword and beckoned Loki.

The god attacked with a vengeance. Metal clanged. Muscles bulged. Nik sweated and bled even more. But, for the first time since Cleo had been sent away to her time, the desire to win raced to the surface. He had to win. Whatever reason she had for coming back didn’t matter. He had to ensure she was
not
Loki’s toy.

Cleo is mine!
his mind roared as he pressed harder, driving Loki back. He swore when the god pulled out another weapon, a short sword. A well-placed kick sent his own sword flying out of his hand. Immediately, Nik jumped back. Someone behind him pushed hard, and he stumbled forward. He saw Loki’s arm and predetermined his next move, so Nik dropped and rolled. When he regained his feet, a low, keening cry left him.

Cleo stood where he’d been. The short sword in Loki’s hand dripped with blood. Hands pressed to her belly, unsuccessfully containing the red liquid, Cleo fell to her knees. The crowd fell silent.

“Noooo!” he cried as pain flooded him. Scrambling over and catching her as she toppled over, he gazed down at her. He cradled the back of her head in one hand. “Cleo,” he said, using his other hand to cover hers and the mortal wound. “No. You can’t leave me. Damn you, woman, why’d you do this! I had it.” Tears welled up as her warm, sticky blood ran over his fingers, coating his skin and staining it.

“I need you, Nikolas Andreyevich. I always did. I know I didn’t tell you sooner, and I’m sorry.”

“Cleo. Hang in there. Damn you, don’t you leave me, Cleo,” he commanded. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I love you, Nik.”

“I love you, too,
snežinka
. Stay with me.” He knew it didn’t matter. He knew she was dying, but if he could will life back into her, Nik would try.

Her sepia eyes fluttered. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“I don’t want to live without you.”

“Nik, it’s okay. You’re free, now. Free.”

“You did this so I’d be free?” he choked out.

“Of course.” The response was so honest and pure. “I need you to be free, Nik.” One tear rolled from each eye. “It’s okay,” she said softly as her breath left her. Then, her chest remained still.

“Cleo.” He shook her. “Cleo.” It came out a strangled cry.

Her sightless eyes peered up at him. Through him. Beyond him.

Nik shook. Laying her down on the ground, he closed her eyes and turned his head to Loki, who still waited. Pushing to his feet, Nik stalked toward him, grabbing his sword with the hand covered by Cleo’s blood. Emitting his battle cry, Nik attacked without a single shred of mercy. All of his anger and all his rage were poured into each swing, every thrust and strike.

His blood boiled, and he refused to relent on his attack. He faked a strike then hit with a different angle. Blood began to stream from the wound, and both of them hesitated.

“I shouldn’t be bleeding,” Loki said in shock and confusion.

The scenery changed, and Nik found he and Loki were back in the meadow he’d fought him in before. No others. No Cleo.

“What the hell is going on?” Nik roared in anger.

Two figures materialized from the air and walked toward them. A man and a woman. Freya, he recognized.

“What are
you
doing here?” Loki demanded, still trying to stop the blood flowing from his arm. “And, why am I bleeding?”

The man chuckled and looked between the Nik and Loki. “Let me answer that.” He waved his hand, and Nik lost his sword, only for it to reappear in the air before the tall, bearded barbarian god. “It means, Loki, this man can kill you.”

Nik smiled ferally at that announcement. “Wonderful. Give me back my sword, so I can do just that.”

“Why do you think I took it from you before I said anything?” the man asked.

Nik didn’t want to talk; he wanted to fight until he couldn’t think straight, and, then,
maybe
the image of Cleo lying dead would leave him. “Cleo,” he uttered on a tortured sigh.

“How is it this mortal has the ability to kill me?” Loki asked.

“So cocky, Loki. How
did
you get the name Trickster if you are so stupid? You gave it to him. Had you read the writing, you would have known.”

Trust me.
Cleo’s word came back to him.
Had she figured it out?
A tiny seed of hope was planted.

“What writing? I read what’s on the blade, and that in no way would give him the power to kill me.”

“There was more than that. Way more. Merotic script. Shall I read it to you?” The unknown god didn’t wait for a response, just began to that very thing. “There were words behind each of the six blue stones. Put together it reads, ‘Love is the immortal guardian of the Lion of Midnight.’”

Nik found himself held captive by the man’s intense gaze. The brown eyes held a slight bit of respect in them.

“The pommel has a message.” With a flick of his hand, the air filled with golden marks, lining up in some order. Then, they changed to words Nik could read. He did so as the man continued to speak. Nik read the message.

God’s kill.

Lion’s kill.

Mortals die.

Love is infinite.

For the Lion to return to full strength

He needs the ultimate sacrifice.

What was once shattered will be healed by this selfless act.

Darkness must fall before day can begin anew.