captivation with lightning and her “uncontrollable urges” to run out into thunder storms? Valkyrie derived nourishment from electricity, taking energy from the earth. Lightning was how the species was first created—and how Holly was first turned.
She wondered if her “grandparents” had struck her with that comforting bolt, or if the lightning had been drawn to her during her emotional turmoil.
And Holly’s freakish strength that she’d fought so hard to disguise? Valkyrie were preternaturally strong, fierce, and warlike.
As well as amorous…
She remembered the first time she’d been in bed with a male, a schoolmate named Bobby Thibodeaux. They’d been sixteen, and a few of Bobby’s unpracticed kisses had made her crazed. She’d leapt upon him, overpowering him.
Holly had been so caught up, she hadn’t realized how distressed he’d become. She’d eventually registered that he’d stopped kissing her back—and that her fingernails had been digging into his arms, holding him as he’d desperately tried to get out from under her.
As he’d gaped up at her in fear, she’d blinked down at him. As though someone else had inhabited her body, she’d throatily murmured, “I guess we should part ways here?” When she released him, he’d fled.
Once Bobby’s tales had made the rounds at school, no boy would ask her out, so she’d buried herself even more in her studies.
In fact, she hadn’t attempted to be intimate with another male until her first year in college. The only thing different about that encounter was that she’d grown more aggressive and even stronger.
Shaking away that memory, Holly turned to Greta’s page in The Book of Warriors . Greta the Bold had been a master strategist and had led troops of Valkyrie, witches, and Furies in the great Battle of the Plains of Doom.
If the dates of that battle were correct, then Greta had gone to war when she’d been pregnant with Holly. Six years later, Greta had lost her life on the front line in the infamous Eighteen-Night Siege.
Holly was struck by the fact that if a new world existed, then she would have an entirely new history to learn.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, she dragged the weighty Living Book of Lore onto her lap without enthusiasm. Scanning the pages, she found encyclopedic entries on each of the “known species.” After a brief intro, a more detailed history would follow. Flipping through, she found everything from wraiths and sirens, to Wendigos and demonarchies….
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Cadeon asked.
She wasn’t hungry whatsoever. “Do you have anything to drink other than Red Bull?”
He pulled a bottle of water from the space behind her seat, handing it to her. My favorite brand.
“Thanks.” She carefully twisted the cap, determined not to touch—
Crap! She’d touched the bottle rim. With a sigh, she put the cap back on and placed the bottle at her feet.
“Something wrong with the water?”
She debated not answering, but figured he’d encounter all her quirks over the next couple of weeks anyway—the eating difficulties, the germophobia, the endless arranging.
“I touched the rim.” She put her chin up. “There was transference. I can’t drink it now.”
Instead of laughing at her, he reached behind her seat to grab another bottle. He opened it without contaminating the rim, then handed it to her. “These shorter caps must be a pain in the ass.”
Her lips parted. She’d complained to Mei about the newfangled caps just the other week.
“So, you feeling overwhelmed yet?” he asked.
“A tad.” She took a drink. She continued to feel as if she were reading fiction—as if all of this were far too fantastic to be true.
Even when a thousand-year-old demon sat a foot from her.
“Read the book to me, and I’ll add details or explain things.”
“How can I trust you? You said Valkyrie are docile. In The Book of Warriors, I read about Kaderin the Coldhearted, an assassin who
She wondered if her “grandparents” had struck her with that comforting bolt, or if the lightning had been drawn to her during her emotional turmoil.
And Holly’s freakish strength that she’d fought so hard to disguise? Valkyrie were preternaturally strong, fierce, and warlike.
As well as amorous…
She remembered the first time she’d been in bed with a male, a schoolmate named Bobby Thibodeaux. They’d been sixteen, and a few of Bobby’s unpracticed kisses had made her crazed. She’d leapt upon him, overpowering him.
Holly had been so caught up, she hadn’t realized how distressed he’d become. She’d eventually registered that he’d stopped kissing her back—and that her fingernails had been digging into his arms, holding him as he’d desperately tried to get out from under her.
As he’d gaped up at her in fear, she’d blinked down at him. As though someone else had inhabited her body, she’d throatily murmured, “I guess we should part ways here?” When she released him, he’d fled.
Once Bobby’s tales had made the rounds at school, no boy would ask her out, so she’d buried herself even more in her studies.
In fact, she hadn’t attempted to be intimate with another male until her first year in college. The only thing different about that encounter was that she’d grown more aggressive and even stronger.
Shaking away that memory, Holly turned to Greta’s page in The Book of Warriors . Greta the Bold had been a master strategist and had led troops of Valkyrie, witches, and Furies in the great Battle of the Plains of Doom.
If the dates of that battle were correct, then Greta had gone to war when she’d been pregnant with Holly. Six years later, Greta had lost her life on the front line in the infamous Eighteen-Night Siege.
Holly was struck by the fact that if a new world existed, then she would have an entirely new history to learn.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, she dragged the weighty Living Book of Lore onto her lap without enthusiasm. Scanning the pages, she found encyclopedic entries on each of the “known species.” After a brief intro, a more detailed history would follow. Flipping through, she found everything from wraiths and sirens, to Wendigos and demonarchies….
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Cadeon asked.
She wasn’t hungry whatsoever. “Do you have anything to drink other than Red Bull?”
He pulled a bottle of water from the space behind her seat, handing it to her. My favorite brand.
“Thanks.” She carefully twisted the cap, determined not to touch—
Crap! She’d touched the bottle rim. With a sigh, she put the cap back on and placed the bottle at her feet.
“Something wrong with the water?”
She debated not answering, but figured he’d encounter all her quirks over the next couple of weeks anyway—the eating difficulties, the germophobia, the endless arranging.
“I touched the rim.” She put her chin up. “There was transference. I can’t drink it now.”
Instead of laughing at her, he reached behind her seat to grab another bottle. He opened it without contaminating the rim, then handed it to her. “These shorter caps must be a pain in the ass.”
Her lips parted. She’d complained to Mei about the newfangled caps just the other week.
“So, you feeling overwhelmed yet?” he asked.
“A tad.” She took a drink. She continued to feel as if she were reading fiction—as if all of this were far too fantastic to be true.
Even when a thousand-year-old demon sat a foot from her.
“Read the book to me, and I’ll add details or explain things.”
“How can I trust you? You said Valkyrie are docile. In The Book of Warriors, I read about Kaderin the Coldhearted, an assassin who
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