Rapture (20 page)

She had almost made it. Really. But one of the dragon’s fangs
brushed against her, scraping her leg in hot fury. She screamed, but didn’t
give up as she rolled herself onto the landing, staring at the ceiling above as
fire shot in and licked the rocks. She breathed and watched the fire for gods
knew how long before she finally sat up and assessed her damage.

Her leg was bleeding, but only from one very large scrape. It
hadn’t taken her leg off—always a plus in the Valkyrie handbook. She had almost
forgotten about what she’d been searching for, when a golden light cascading
over the hard ground caught her eye. She glanced at it, her breath leaving in a
whoosh as she peered at the treasure.

It was her father’s shield. The engraving of lightning bolts
shooting down from the heavenly sky lit with the brilliance of the sun, and
Norse scenery below, was unmistakable. Father had treasured it for as long as
she could remember, keeping it housed within the safety of his hall. No
Valkyrie had ever touched it. She doubted anyone had, other than Thor, who had
been the one to create it for Odin.

She approached it slowly, crawling along the rock so she could
keep underneath the dragon’s fiery breath. She hesitantly reached out to the
touch the smooth, golden surface of the shield. It felt odd to touch it when
Father cherished it so. But it had been left here, for her to find. She glanced
over her shoulder at a startling sound, her excitement at seeing the prize
gifted to her by her father melting away as a giant wing flapped in her line of
vision. The dragon floated upward, its ugly snout and eyes peering in at her as
an almost sinister grin crossed its face. It inhaled quickly; she could
practically hear the fire in the beast’s lungs. She gripped the shield, looping
her arm through the straps on the back, and turned just as a wall of fire
rushed in.

Raine ducked behind the shield, using it as protection against the
onslaught of flame and smoke. The fire beat at the shield, and it quaked under
her hold, nearly pushing her back against the wall. It was as she looked down,
keeping her head behind the shield, that she noticed it lying there on the
ground. Even as the shield vibrated and searing heat rushed all around her, she
reached down with her free hand and picked up another scroll.

The flames stopped as the beast inhaled again, and she used the
break to roll open the scroll, reading the inscription inside:

How fare thee, oh tournamanteer

You’ve found your prize, the end is near

You must get free: stealth, skill, or bind

To the crested wall left long behind

Just place yon treasure to its matching design

And prepare for battle, one final time

Another round of fiery hot breath hit the shield and filled the
tiny passage. She closed her eyes, pushing against the shield with all her
might, not allowing the flames to force her back. She wouldn’t give up. She
wouldn’t retreat. The prize—her father’s shield—had reminded her of who she
was.

She was Valkyrie.

The dragon’s long-winded exhale eased, and it breathed in quickly,
taking in another powerful breath. She shoved the scroll down her top and
gripped her Hjörr as she rushed toward the dragon. She reached him in seconds
and struck, her blade clashing against its nose the same way it did before.
One. Two. Three strikes and the beast screeched and screamed, its head rolling
back as it roared at the cavernous ceiling. Her gaze went upward as well and
caught a break in the rock. A jagged edge. Her eyes found the grappling hook
still anchored into the rock at her feet.

Raine gripped and wound the rope quickly. She hadn’t had time to
throw it before the dragon was on her again, more fierce than e’er before. She
dropped the wound rope and grapple, and grasped the hilt of her sword, readying
for more battle. “A little closer, bitch,” she muttered as the hissing jaws and
snout neared her again, her weight shifting back and forth from foot to foot.
The dragon’s enormous wings flapped, suspending the beast in the air and nearly
covering the expanse of the chamber. She’d have to time this right if it was to
work. If not, then she’d be on to Plan B, which had yet to be determined.

The dragon struck, its fangs snapping where she’d just been
standing, leaving her to gawk in horrified awe. Had she not moved at that
precise second, its not-so-pearly whites would have turned her into chopped
liver.

As it was, she had moved, spinning out of the way as the dragon’s
fangs clanged together, causing her own teeth to throb in pain, and stabbed
out, her Hjörr sliding precisely into the beast’s cheek, nearly a foot below
its eye. As it bellowed again, arcing its head back, she drew her blade free
and picked up the grapple, spinning it in the air and releasing it, praying to
Odin and Freyja that it hit its mark.

It did.

She gripped the rope and launched herself into the air, using it
to swing her over the dragon’s head and to the other side of the chamber. She
started to swing back upward, and would have likely crashed into the far wall,
but released the rope and hit the ground rolling. Her skinned leg trembled with
pain, but she paid it no heed and rushed toward the corridor’s opening as the
dragon’s heavy footfalls shook the ground all around her. She stumbled, but
breeched the opening as another loud clang of its teeth sounded from behind
her.

She kept running, looking over her shoulder as the raging beast’s
form disappeared from view. She turned forward again and—

“Whoa!”

She collided with a large, heavy body, her own doing a flip and
somehow landing with a
humph
under him. She nearly struck, only stopping as she peered up
at the male on top of her. “Ferox.”

He smiled and pushed to his feet
before helping her to her own as well. “Did you find your treasure?”

“I did,” she said as she dusted
herself off.

“Did yours have anything to do with
your own realm?”

She paused and glanced up. “Yes. Did
yours as well?”

“It did.”

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the growls,” he said,
and shifted his pack, settling it on his shoulders once more. “I think we
should get going.”

Another loud roar echoed off the
walls. “I agree. Let’s go.”

Ferox angled his head, peering
around her with a single eyebrow raised before he nodded. “Is yours still
roaming free?” At her nod, he glanced down at her skinned leg. “When were you
going to tell me about that?”

She gave it a cursory once over,
feigning as though it didn’t hurt at all. Truth was though, it stung like a—

“Raine,” he said, interrupting her
thoughts. He gave her another popped brow, though this time it was slower and
much more meaningful.

“It’s nothing. We should move.” She
walked past him, wishing she could somehow overcome the slight slip in her
step. Her leg hurt more than she’d let on, and though it could purely be her
mind playing tricks on her, she thought the pain was actually increasing.

“It’s how I found you,” he added
seconds later.

That was exactly how she’d thought he
found her, and she didn’t respond. The way her limbs were starting to burn, she
didn’t feel she could without alerting him that something was wrong.

Chapter Sixteen

Finding her had been far simpler
than finding the treasure. Ferox could scent her blood long before he’d even
heard her, though with the cave vibrating with every roar of whatever beast had
guarded her treasure, he’d known without a doubt he’d been headed in the right
direction—maze or no. When he’d found her, she’d been slightly distracted, and
the knowing of it was eating at him silently.

She refused to talk about it,
refused to even admit there was a problem, but the smell of her blood indicated
to him all-too-well how serious her injury was. By anyone’s standards, it was a
scrape, but gods knew what had caused it; likely the basilisk she’d battled—if
her beast had been anything like his. It might not have ripped her leg free,
but it very well could have poisoned her, and the scents wafting from her blood
made that theory all the more likely in the half hour they’d spent winding
their way through the maze.

“Do you remember the way out?” she
asked, breaking the silence that had formed between them. Her voice had sounded
strained, gritty in a way he’d never heard her speak. He’d much preferred the
sultry sound she’d spoken to him earlier, though that time had clearly passed.

“We’re going in the right general
vicinity,” he responded. “But no, I do not remember the exact way.” He might
have, had her blood not been distracting him so.

Raine slowed and braced a hand
against the rocky wall, exhaling slowly as she peered down at the ground. He
stepped around her, pulling her chin up with a finger. “Will you tell me now?”

She bit her lip, that stubbornness
making an appearance for a few seconds before it washed away. “You should go
on. My strength wanes. I believe the dragon’s bite was poisonous.”

Damn, it was as he feared. “Can I
help? Do you know of an antidote?”

She shook her head, her face
morphing as if a fresh wave of pain rocked through her.

“Would you mind terribly if I tried
something?”

“What were you thinking exactly?”
she asked, eyeing him through the pain.

“You’ve learned how my people
survive. It is also how we heal. What if I gave you some of my blood?”

Her eyes widened at the same time
her mouth dropped wide open, revealing her pink tongue and white teeth. “That’s
just—”

“An idea,” he interrupted. “I can
try to drop it on the wound, and see if anything happens.” She tried to turn
away, clearly not wanting him to see her revulsion, but he refused to let her.
“What will it hurt?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know.”

“Could it be any worse than what you
feel now?” He looked at her for so long in silence, watching the expressions on
her face as she had her own internal debate. And never before had he wanted to
know someone’s thoughts. Was she formulating some sort of rejection? Was she
actually considering accepting his offer? In truth, he didn’t know what it
could hurt. It had simply never been done before.

Raine nodded.

She accepted? He quickly moved
toward her. “Here, sit down. It should make this easier.”

She sat down, and at Ferox’s
prodding, straightened her leg so it lay directly in front of him. Ferox
dropped to his knees and opened his mouth before striking his wrist with his
fangs. His blood welled, and he cupped some in his palm, rubbing it on the
wound. She jerked away at first with a muttered curse, but he kept a tight hold
on her ankle.

“How is everything feeling?” he
asked.

Jaw tight, she replied through her
lips, “How do you think it feels?”

He would have snorted at her tart
reply, but he couldn’t. Not with her being in such pain. Within minutes she no
longer tried to pull away, and her breathing slowed.

She sighed in relief and sank down,
no longer supporting herself on her elbows. “How did you do that?”

“Do you feel better?”

“Remarkably. How?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know it would
work.” Yes, ingesting blood certainly helped vampires heal, and he’d wondered
ever since he’d come to Brelaan if vampire blood could help others. Something
in him had just told him it would. And seeing it help couldn’t have given him
more pleasure.

They stayed there in silence for a
while, and she finally rose to her feet. “We really should get going. I am much
better now. There is no reason to wait.”

“Agreed,” he said, stretching as he
rose to his full height. Her wound still looked horrid, but even he could see
that it had somewhat healed. “Let’s find the exit. If we keep an eye on those
treasures, they’ll let us know if we get close.”

“Good idea.” Raine nodded and
reached into her pack, extracting the shackle. Once it was firmly in hand, they
set off down the passageway. Screeches and roars echoed through the cave.

“I think there is another contestant
in here.”

“If not more,” Raine replied.

She was right. There could be more
than one in here by now.

Sometime later, the manacle began to
illuminate. “I knew it would help,” she said, smiling sideways at him.

“I do believe it was I who suggested
it,” he teased back, only letting a little of his laughter seep through his
voice. They had found the entrance—or exit, depending on how one viewed it—and
were now standing face-to-face with the boulder, trying to figure out how to
make it open. “Could there be another smooth surface?”