Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) (43 page)

Shoving the corner back into place covering her, Gideon straightened. He looked across the great expense of the mattress to where his brother stood, expressionless and too still.

“You know what this means,” Gideon murmured quietly, and all he got in response was an equally quiet nod.

Turning away, he marched to the bathroom and soaked a hand towel in lukewarm water. He wrung it out and peered up at the gilded mirror suspended over the sink. His tired and furious self stared back. Strands of damp, gold hung limp over his brow. Others stood in tufts where Valkyrie had sunk her fingers into them and held on. Those memories didn’t elicit the happy glow he had always imagined they would draw.

Magnus had moved away from the bed and stood by the window. Gideon could see the side of his brother’s profile as he studied the night outside. His hands were clasped at his back and his posture was relaxed, but Gideon knew better; his brother was pissed.

“You know this will mean war,” Gideon remarked as he went to Valkyrie.

He didn’t need to check to know his brother would never look as Gideon brushed aside the coat and turned her off her side onto her back. The smear of blood between her thighs nearly broke him.

“We are already at war,” Magnus replied evenly. “This will only make it worse.”

Gideon didn’t reply as he cleaned his mate and redressed her, careful not to allow himself to dwell, careful not to linger too long on her skin, no matter how pointless that was now. He was careful not to stare. Somehow, mate or not, every part of that moment felt tainted, violated, and wrong.

“It’s not your fault,” Magnus murmured, still staring at the window.

Gideon said nothing. He tucked her blades into the tops of her boots and straightened. His own clothes lay where he had tossed them over a chair. He dressed quickly, his mind set on what he needed to do.

“Take Valkyrie,” he told the other man. “I want a word with her highness.”

“Gid—”

Flipping the collar of his coat, Gideon turned on his brother. “Take her.”

Without waiting for a response, Gideon charged to the doors and out. The hum of music and laughter continued to fill the place despite the hour. He wondered how long it would continue. How long would they drug their young women and pass them off to get impregnated by any warrior that would have them? That much he agreed with Valkyrie; the women were treated like cattle. They were drugged and raped and used as breeding stock, because in all his boasting, Kyros never once mentioned marriage to the girls they chose. And while Gideon never judged other cultures, he hated the draconian for everything they stood for.

The trip to the throne room was done without interception. No one stopped him, or asked why he was headed that way. He didn’t understand why until he reached the gold plated doors and found Kyros waiting for him. The sight of him seized the fury Gideon had kept in check the entire walk up and dosed it in gasoline. It exploded with a rage that seemed to burst off him in waves. It was a wonder Kyros couldn’t feel the burn of it.

He took a step forward, arm up, palm held open like a crossing guard. “The queen is not accepting—”

Gideon never slowed his pace, never so much as faltered. His anger rode him straight up to the other man, and with a swing that screamed up his arm like fire, he knocked the draconian off his feet. All five knuckles connected with Kyros’s jaw, snapping it shut and flinging his dark head back. Blood spewed from his mouth where Gideon was certain Kyros had taken a chunk from his own tongue. Then the bigger man was soaring backwards and slamming into the doors, cracking them open. The force of their collision with the walls behind them resounded like thunder throughout the corridor.

Gideon stormed forward just as Kyros smacked into the floor, a massive dark blur that skidded five, six, ten feet before coming to a screeching halt at the base of the queen’s golden throne, and her feet. Kyros didn’t move.

“What insolence is this?” the queen hissed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Gideon retorted with every ounce of revulsion he could muster.

The queen’s nostrils flared. “How dare you—”

“You drugged Valkyrie,” he cut her off savagely. “You ruined her.”

Dark eyes narrowed and he didn’t miss the flicker of triumph in them. “I did nothing she did not bring upon herself, Caster. That girl is as foul and loathsome as her father. She got exactly what she deserves.”

Without thinking, Gideon took a dangerous step forward before he remembered his mother’s warning never to raise his hand to a woman, and what he yearned to do to the queen was so much more than just raise his hand. He balled them into fists instead. The queen gave them appraising glances, possibly contemplating just how much more she could push before he was on her. Gideon wanted to tell her not very much. He was barely in control.

“You have sentenced her to death,” he snarled. “Is that what she deserves?”

There was a shadow of surprise across her face before it was quickly gone and her chin had come up a notch in dismiss. “Perhaps it is time that Arild Devereaux learns what humility is; once he has lost his daughter—”

“He will learn nothing from this,” Gideon said. “Do you honestly believe his daughters mean anything to him? He will behead her himself and walk right over her body afterwards without a single glance back. And I won’t allow that. He will not come near her because, because of you, she now belongs to me in every possible way and I will fight for her until the day I die, and when Arild comes for her, I will go to war to protect her and I will come for you.” He took a slow measured step forward, stopping when the toes of his boots struck the bottom step of the dais. He lowered his voice. “You may have strength in numbers, your highness, but I will slice through your last warrior until my blade is at your throat. You have put my mate’s life in danger and I will not rest until you and Arild Devereaux are bloody pieces at my feet.”

“W
hat did you do?”

Gideon ignored his brother’s question. He scooped Valkyrie from the other man’s arms, cradled her close to his chest and started the long process back through the jungle. Somehow, the trip seemed effortless, like he could sense every branch, root, and rock before he even came upon it. His strides were strong and confident. Maybe it was the hot stream of blinding fury that continued to pulse like an agitated heartbeat, but he made it to the road without faltering once.

Neither he nor Magnus spoke as they walked to Gideon’s car. He slid Valkyrie into the backseat, rolled his coat under her head, and slammed the door shut behind her. Magnus was already in the passenger’s seat, waiting for answers.

“She’s alive,” was all Gideon was willing to part with.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Gideon didn’t answer him. He started the engine and shot them into the night.

Valkyrie stayed asleep throughout the entire drive, and even when Gideon turned down the path towards Final Judgment, she remained in peaceful slumber. Gravel crunched beneath gravel, filling the deafening silence within the car with its sound. Gideon could almost feel his brother’s scrutinizing gaze boring into him through the darkness, could feel the weight of his thoughts pouring through the space between them like toxic gas. He almost couldn’t wait to get home and away.

Instead, he drew into the spot, cut the engine, and sat staring at the glowing patches of light cut into the night from the windows of his home. The night had already ended. His father would have sent the demons back and the place would be filled only with the people Gideon loved most, yet he hesitated, his guilt overpowering his desire to run inside and throw himself into his mother’s arms.

“Take Valkyrie inside,” he told the silent man next to him.

“Where are you going?”

He had no idea. Anywhere but inside.

“Just go.”

“What happened wasn’t—”

“Go!” he snarled. The horn blared under the violent attack of his fist.

Magnus never so much as flinched, nor did he speak again. He slid out of the car. The entire frame rattled under the slam of the door behind him. Gideon didn’t watch as the back door was opened and Valkyrie was gathered up in his brother’s arms. He continued to stare at the wheel, long after Magnus had taken her inside and the entire world was a muffled hum in the confines of his car.

He lay his head back, closed his eyes and prayed to The Mother, Lilith, prayed for wisdom and strength, for he had neither at that moment. Everything in him was a tangled cacophony of chaos and he was lost in it.

He dropped his face into his hands.

“Please don’t let her die because of me.”

There was no answer.

There never was
.

T
he world was a pale glow of approaching dawn when Valkyrie pried her eyelids open. The room was vaguely familiar despite being bathed in a dark pool of shadows. Her body ached in ways it never had and there was a pull in the back of her navel that was quickly filling her with an anxiousness she didn’t like. It persisted even as she forced herself upright, ignoring the whisper of sheets as they slid down her fully clothed frame to pool into her lap. Her movement jostled the figure curled up on the other side of the bed.

“You’re awake.” Gideon pushed up as well, his dark profile a rigid shadow. “How are you feeling?”

Memories of the previous night swayed before her mind’s eye, like watching the events while swinging. It all teetered and blurred in too many places.

Valkyrie rolled her gaze over her room at Final Judgment. Absently, her hand went to the place between her breasts. The fingertips massaged the ache there.

“How did I get here?” she wondered. “There are holes...”

There was a quick flash of Gideon’s face, of his mouth under hers, his breath warming her skin. Just as quickly, it was gone. Valkyrie wasn’t overly surprised. It wasn’t the first fantasy she’d had of him, nor, she surmised, the last. But it was such an odd time.

“What happened?”

His features remained tense, the way people looked when they were about to deliver heartbreaking news.

Her stomach dropped. “Gideon?”

He reached for her. His fingers were blocks of ice against the side of her face. “It’s all right,” he murmured.

Her insides turned cold. A sour paste filled her mouth, making the bile brewing at the back of her throat impossible to contain. Bells shrilled between her ears in a screech of panic.

“What is?” She demanded, the tremor difficult to miss. “Why is there pain...?”

Her hands were caught when she started to yanked the covers off. His grip was a little too tight, a little too anxious.

“I’m so sorry, Kyrie...”

“What...?”

An unimaginable chill swept through the room with an angry vengeance. The darkness pulled closer about the bed despite the blinding blush pinkening the windowpane as dawn climbed higher across the sky. Her hands shook as she kicked free of the sheets and pushed unsteadily to her feet. Someone had removed her boots, her blades were silver slivers of steel on the nightstand. Her feet pressed flat against the hardwood.

The place between her legs spiked with her first steps and she gasped, pitching forward to brace herself against the side of the bed. Her knees wobbled even as her hand went to cup the mound beneath the soft leather and felt the tenderness there. Her breathing raced from her lungs in tufts of air that sounded much louder in her ears as the sickening realization finally hit home.

No. Please, no.

“Valkyrie, wait—”

There were tears blurring her path as she stumbled her way to the washroom. Her heart muffled the bang of door striking plaster. She hit the wall with her shoulder, all the while fumbling with the fastens on her pants.

She had no idea what to look for, or what to expect when she forced the leather down around her knees. But she knew, even before it struck her that she wore no panties.

Her vision dimmed. The room tilted dangerously to one side. Her kneecaps struck the marble, but the pain was nonexistent. She couldn’t breathe.

“Valkyrie!”

Gideon was there, scooping her up and pulling her into his lap. His embrace was suffocating.

“It’s okay,” he ground into the top of her head. “It’s okay.”

“Someone touched me,” she gasped, not seeing how anything was okay. “I’m ruined.”

“Valkyrie...” The pain wrenching his features emulated hers exactly.

“Who did it?”

He seemed unable to move, or speak. He watched her as though somehow her suffering were tearing him in two.

“Who?” she screamed at him.

The muscles in his jaw bunched once before he spoke. “I did.”

It was as though he had taken his blade and thrust it deep between her ribs and straight into her heart. The pain of it was insurmountable. It was without measure or name. It echoed through the room and through her skull like shards of fragmented glass.

He had done this. He who had been her one and only friend. He who had been the only person on earth she had ever truly trusted with every part of her. He had betrayed her in a way that could never be repaired. He had marked her for death.