Sun's Tear (The Valkyrie's Passion Book 2): A Valkyrie/Shifter Romance (8 page)

I grimaced at the mud staining the front of my top. “Nothing said I had to be pretty to save the day.”

I dug my feet into the loose ground and reached for the next tree. I let out a low groan as I dragged my body up. I used the tree to gain my feet and moved on to the next one. The ground grew drier and firmer the higher I went, and the birch trees gave away to pine trees that left my hands sticky with sap.

I was panting when I reached the top of the rise. I pulled myself over the lip and peered over into a valley. Light glowed from the center of a crater. Trees lay knocked down in a circle radiating from the crater and the slope up the ridge to me was littered with branches.

A drop of pure, golden sun shone in the center of the crater. Heat caressed my face. I wanted to duck down and hide. It was like staring into an open oven. The Sun's Tear was just down there, I only had to slid down and—

Three men stood around the crater. They were bikers in blue jeans, black chaps, and tight shirts underneath black, leather vests—their cuts. A bald man with a graying beard turned away from me to talk to one of the men. On his cut was a large patch of a bald eagle with bloody talons.

“Why are they here?” I gasped, summoning my armor to protect myself.

“What's the word on the Black Wolves?” the bald man growled to something in the shadows.

The Thief strode out. My breath caught as I stared down at the wrinkled, gray hide and thick tusks of the foul creature. Flashes of my time in Utgard shot through my mind. The Thief had gored Heimdall with those tusks.

Why was he here?

“Your men approach the ambush site,” the Thief answered. “The Black Wolves are in position.”

What was going on?

“My end of the bargain is being upheld,” the Thief continued.

“Isn't he an ugly sight,” Loki whispered behind me.

I let out a startled gasp and rolled onto my back. Loki, in his immaculately tailored suit, stood on the slope. I was covered in mud and dead leaves, but he had scaled the rise without even scuffing his expensive loafers.

Damn, why did he have to look so perfect?

“Why are you here?” I accused.

Magnus

The anger faded as the cool, night air rushed by me. Why had Raven sent me that text message? She had been the one that wanted to talk. Now she wanted nothing to do with me.

Was she with Loki?

I growled. I had to keep that poisonous thought out of my mind. She wasn't with Loki. I needed to be focused. I couldn't be stuck worrying over Raven.

What was she doing right now? Maybe she went back to Seattle. She would be safe there. My world was dangerous. She wasn't from it. Maybe it was for the best she left.

No. Fuck that. I wanted her with me. Raven was a Valkyrie. She could handle this. She should be riding behind me, joining the club as we go to fight. She was as tough as any of the Black Wolves, and just as fierce. I would trust her at my side as much as I trusted Big Hoss, Jim, Thomas, and the rest.

It was the wolf inside me. Ever since I woke up as an Einherjer, I had a simmering rage that kept wanting to take over my actions. I wanted to be the wolf. I wanted to rip and rend, to kill and destroy. I had to protect my Valkyrie, and I would do it as violently as possible.

I could become the wolf and wipe out the Blood Eagles. They wouldn't stand a chance against me.

It would be a slaughter worse than what we planned on tonight.

No. I was a man. I didn't need the wolf tonight. I would be in control of my emotions. They did not rule me. Raven was safe. She was back in Seattle. I would track her down when this was all over, seize her shoulders, and show her my love in the most primal way possible.

I would love and devour her until she melted.

The club roared through Covington, announcing our presence to the town. The Black Wolves had come hunting their prey. We sped through the dark streets as we raced to the outskirts of town where the brothel lay.

The Night Owl Bed & Breakfast, as the brothel was officially known, sat atop a forested hill. Only a long, narrow road led up the hill to the crest. There were several off-shoots that led to other residences hidden in the thick woods covering the hill.

I made the turn onto the road, my brothers following. It was time to focus. I tried to push Raven out of my mind. It was hard. Damned hard. She had set up residence in my heart.

I led the snaking column up the hill, running with our lights off now. It was dark. The woods flashed by us. I slowed and turned down the first side road. Big Hoss and his small team kept racing up the hill, wearing masks and no cuts.

It was a shame to hide how they were, but sometimes acts had to be done in the dark. What mattered was the Blood Eagles would know who torched their brothel and shot up their club.

I came to a stop and shut off my bike. I fished out my H&K UMP from my saddlebags and unfolded the stock. I slapped in a magazine and drew back the slide. Around me, my brothers did the same. Thomas nodded to me, his face serious.

“Let's go,” I growled.

We would be on both sides of the road, positioned above one of the turns. When the Blood Eagles came around the bend, we would unload down the hill at them. Their lead riders, hopefully Griff and Talon, would take the brunt of the fire.

We would send them running.

The club all had eager grins on their faces as we settled into the dark brush around the road. Thomas was on the other side, almost invisible in the shadows of the brush, his gun aimed down the hill at the bend.

At the top of the hill, guns cracked. Big Hoss, Thunder, and Skid were scaring out the girls and their johns before they torched the place. A few shots fired would get them all moving. Right now, the girls would be calling for the Blood Eagles to come protect them.

My heart thudded in my chest. My entire body was a coiled spring. With every heartbeat, the tension wound tighter and tighter. My skin seemed stretched over my muscles. My breaths came quicker and quicker.

My hand shook as the adrenaline spiked through my body.

Finally, the faint sound of motorcycle engines drifted through the night air. They were coming. I tightened my grip on the submachine gun and set the butt tight against my shoulder. The Blood Eagles started this fight.

Tonight, I ended it.

In the distance, a flood of headlights rounded the corner as they raced down the main road to the brothel.

“Steady, boys,” I said. It was something I heard sergeants say in war movies. “They're coming right into our ambush.”

Thomas's radio crackled, Vince reporting from his observation post, “They just passed me and turned on the road.”

“Get ready,” Thomas hissed.

“You heard him,” I growled.

The roar of motorcycles grew louder. Through the trees, their headlights flashed as they climbed the hill. I flipped the safety off my gun. Metal clicked around me. My brother wolves were all comfortable with firearms.

“Here they come,” I whispered.

The roar of the motorcycle engines drowned out thought. Their headlights flooded the road as they screamed up the hill. Time seemed to slow. The first motorcycle appeared around the brush. Talon sat on it. His long, brown hair trailed behind him. His thick beard bristled.

He had no cast on the arm I broke.

I almost held my fire. Where was Talon's cast? It hadn't even been a week since I broke his arm. How was that possible? My finger froze on the trigger for a moment. The Blood Eagles screeched around the corner.

They were in the trap. I couldn't hesitate. Talon tried to assault Raven.

I snarled as my finger pulled on the trigger. The gun bucked into my shoulder as it fired off a three round burst. The muzzle flash destroyed my night vision, plunging the world into darkness around me. I couldn't see if I hit.

The night exploded. My pack opened fire. Tongues of flames leaped from the barrels of the UMP's. Boots roared beside me as his gun poured .45 ACP rounds into the Blood Eagles. I joined him, the wolf snarling inside of me as I squeezed the trigger over and over.

Talon didn't fall to the ground, torn apart by bullets. The headlight of his bike went out. Sparks flashed off the metal. We had to be hitting him. His bike suddenly jerked as the front tire blew out. Talon spilled on the road. The Blood Eagles swerved around him as they roared up the hill.

Why weren't any of them falling?

Bullets struck their flesh. The Blood Eagles let out piercing howls like diving eagles. My blood chilled. Something was very wrong. My men hadn't noticed. They were caught up in the exhilaration of the ambush.

“Keep pouring the lead!” roared Thomas, rising up from his crouch across the road as he fired down the hill. “Pour the fucking lead into them.”

I shifted fire to the closet Blood Eagles, a huge man made of muscle and sinew—Crash, their club's sergeant at arms. I fired. My bullets struck him in the chest. Spots of blood appeared. Crash let out a screech but did not fall.

“The fuck,” I growled. “Why won't they fucking go down?”

“Something's not right,” Boots muttered.

The Blood Eagles' bikes went down in grinding crashes. One burst into flames as it slammed into the pavement, spilling burning gasoline across the road. Blown-out tires sent other Blood Eagles skidding into each other. Their riders hit the ground in hard rolls and came up on their feet, unfazed by the hard skids.

Crash leaped from his bike. His eyes glowed in the light of gunfire. Crimson feathers sprouted from his body. His open mouth became a sharp beak. Thick arms became powerful wings. Crash's boots burst as scaled, clawed talons appeared. He arched straight at me, his talons extended like a diving bird of prey.

I turned the UMP sideways, catching Crash's talons on the black body of the submachine gun. I grunted as the force of his dive threw me back into a tree. Crash's wings flapped as his talons ripped the gun from my hands.

“What the fuck?” someone shouted.

“Shit! What is going on?”

“Just shoot the fuckers!”

Gunshots died as I struggled with Crash. His talons ripped at my arms, leaving bloody furrows. I seized his scaled leg and swung the were-eagle. Crash screeched as his torso crashed into a tree. Wood cracked and Crash flopped at the ground.

“Magnus!” Boots growled beside me as another of the were-eagles slammed into him. Talons ripped open his stomach and the sharp beak slammed into Boots's throat.

The wolf snarled in rage inside me as the were-eagle slammed Boots's corpse to the ground. The creature twisted his head and screeched at me, blood staining his yellow beak. Around me, the Blood Eagles tore into my wolves.

My men were dying. My pack.

“Magnus,” the were-eagle that killed Boots screeched. The creature still wore his leather cut. The patch on the front, white with black lettering, identified the bastard.

“Talon,” I growled, my fingers flexing.

“Where's the girl?” Talon screeched. “She still owes me a fuck.”

The rage seized me. The wolf howled for blood. I donned the wolf's cloak as I leaped at Talon.

Fur burst across my skin as I transformed into the werewolf. My vision was crimson. My pack died around me. Talon wanted to harm my Valkyrie. I howled as my body grew stronger, my limbs longer, lankier. A fang-filled muzzle formed, eager to tear Talon's throat out and feast on his blood.

Talon screeched and flapped his wings. He leaped into the air. His talons extended before him, reaching for my flesh. He let out a piercing cry. His eyes burned in the moonlight. I stared at his scrawny throat.

I would wring him until his body broke. No one threatened my Raven.

We crashed together in a fury of claws, talons, feathers, and teeth. His sharp talons tore at my stomach as my claws raked his torso. The world tumbled about us. The screams of my dying pack drove the rage.

It consumed me. I would kill them all. I would rip every last one of the Blood Eagles apart.

We hit the ground. I ignored the burning scratches as my clawed hands seized his wings. I twisted them. Talon screeched in pain as he thrashed beneath me. His talons kicked against my torso, throwing me off of him.

I landed on the road, rolling against a crashed motorcycle. I gained my feet, my hands full of feathers. I lunged back in, snarling for Talon's blood. He had to die. He had to pay for ever touching Raven.

“Where is she?” Talon demanded as I hurtled at him. “Where is your slut?”

His beak jabbed forward like a knife. I twisted and seized his neck before I crashed into him. His life pulsed beneath my hand. “No slut,” I growled. “My warrior-woman. My Boudica.” I squeezed. “You cannot have her.”

Talon let out a gurgling screech as I crushed his neck. His body spasmed. He struggled against my strength. He was weak. His life fluttered beneath my hand. I squeezed harder and harder.

“You can't hurt her!” I howled. “My Raven.”

Talon bucked. His beak opened and closed as he struggled to breath; my grip wouldn't let him. I twisted my wrist. Bone snapped. Talon's body went still before it rippled. His human form returned, his mouth open, his eyes sightless. I howled my triumph as I turned to the fray.

A were-eagle pecked at the corpse of Quick, feasting on my wolf, his wings flapping as he cawed. I threw myself at him, slamming into the were-eagle's back. I was death for these bastards. I would kill every last one of them.

Gunfire erupted farther up the hill. Thomas, Jim, Rick, and Poncho fired bursts at the were-eagles as they fell back up the road. A carpet of dead Black Wolves, their bodies torn and pecked, littered the woods and road leading up to them.

Were they the only ones left?

I howled in fury and charged at the flock of were-eagles flapping towards my brothers, heedless of the bullets whizzing through the night. I crashed into the flock, scattering the scared pigeons. I was a true hunter. Feathers drifted through the air as I ripped off wings, broke necks, and gutted were-eagles.

They screeched and turned. Their wings flapped and their talons slashed. Pain flared down my legs and thighs. I ignored it. I didn't need to feel pain right now. I was beyond it. There was only the killing. Only the berserker rage propelling me to hunt.

They took to the skies, cawing out in fear before me. I howled at the cowards. “Come back! You fucking pigeons. Fight.”

“Fuck,” Jim gasped. “Is that you, Magnus?”

I whirled on Jim, Thomas and the others. Jim's eyes were wide. Blood matted his side. His cut was half torn, hanging on in tattered scraps. He lowered his UMP, staring down at the carnage spread out on the road.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. “What are you?”

“Einherjer,” I growled. “Werewolf.” I threw back my head and howled my fury and grief at the fleeing Blood Eagles. Not enough of their corpses littered the road. I needed to kill them all.

“Fuck,” Poncho groaned, his blond beard matted with blood. He gripped his side. “They butchered us.”

“Impressive, Magnus,” Thomas said, clapping his hands and pushing past Jim. “I knew you were a vicious beast, but I had no idea the fury you possessed. No wonder Raven chose you.”

I let out a warning snarl. Thomas didn't smell right. His grin was twisted. “Who are you?”