Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
"Um…hi." I hug her back, taken off guard by her warmth and exuberance. It's unexpected, especially in a place like this. And then her words register, crashing together with Dax's cryptic comment from earlier that he'd show me how he knew I was thinking about sneaking out of the window. I gasp, pulling back to look at Abigail. "You knew about me?"
"I saw you," she says, bobbing her head. Her red braid bounces with the movement, little baby hairs around her face shifting too. "It's what I do. See things."
"She's a psychic?" I ask, looking to Dax for confirmation.
"She isn't like the humans you see on television, Valkyrie," Adriel growls. "She's a powerful Seer. One of the most powerful we've ever known. What she sees always comes to pass. Always."
I flinch at the rebuke in his tone, as if my question somehow offended him even though I didn't intend it to be offensive.
"I'm like you," Abigail says, her soft tone a stark contrast to his. "One of my ancestors was a Valkyrie. There are others like us here."
"They see the future too?"
"Nei, elskan-ljós," Dax murmurs, placing his hand on the small of my back again. "Not all. Not even most. Some sense when things are going to happen. Some can predict the weather, or wars. Some are skilled with healing. But most possess no gifts at all."
"There are no others here as strong as Abigail." Malachi meets my gaze. "At least, there weren't."
"Awesome," I say with false enthusiasm. So I guess that means I'm as much an oddball here as I have been my whole life. It's an uncomfortable realization. One I should be used to by now, I suppose. But when you've always been the weird one, the one who sensed things no one else did, people always look at you differently. No matter how hard you try to fit in, you always stand out anyway. I guess I get to do that here too.
I don't relish it. For once in my life, I don't want to be the girl with a dead mom and a murderous father. I don't want to be a freak of nature. I just want…what? I've never known exactly how to answer that question. It's like the answer is on the tip of my tongue, but it eludes me.
Dax shifts beside me and my gaze flickers in his direction. Even in profile, he's one of the most handsome men I've ever met, so fierce and radiant. Like the sunrise on a battlefield.
An answer bubbles up from deep within my soul. One that terrifies and excites me in equal measure.
Him. I want him.
I want his lips on mine again like they were upstairs.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought, but it refuses to budge. It's in there now, stuck. He's in there now, burrowing deeper the longer I'm here. I didn't tell him, but that's why I wanted to flee. Not because of Valhalla or the Forsaken or any of the not-quite-believable things he told me. But because, out of all of them, he's the thing that scares me the most.
I don't want to fall for him. I don't want to need him. Love is pain. I learned that lesson early. My father taught it well, over and over until his kind of love killed my mom, leaving me alone in a world that didn't want me. Opening myself to this man feels like opening a vein. Only, I might just bleed out this time. Because there's something about him that makes me want to open it.
How is that possible when I don't even know him?
Because your soul is bound to his. Might as well accept it, dummy.
I ignore that little voice, ignore the implications. What other choice do I have?
I know what he wants from me. Fate of souls and worlds and the whole dang universe.
If this is adulthood, I'd like to cancel my subscription, please.
"Are you hungry, elskan-ljós?"
My stomach growls at the mention of food.
Malachi laughs loudly, making me blush. I guess he heard that, then.
"Come. I'll feed you." Dax leads me across the living room toward the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it's beautiful. Granite and cedar dazzle me everywhere I look, as if the room sprang up from the mountainside. Even the modern appliances blend into the room, the stove and industrial-sized chrome fridge somehow complementing everything else. It's far more functional than I expected for a home this cut off from civilization.
"If I ask exactly where in the Cascades we are, would you tell me?" I question, perching on a wooden stool at a massive center island.
Abigail, who followed us in, hops up onto a stool beside me while Dax crosses to the fridge, pulling it open to rummage around.
"We're close to the volcano," she says. "When it isn't snowing, you can see the top of the peak. Sometimes, you can even see it venting steam."