Valkyrie's Claim (Academy of Immortals 2)

Hildi

He slams the door, shutting out the vultures in the hall. I can’t look at him. I’ve never, not in my entire life, been so humiliated, so degraded.

I glance to the side and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. In a few hours, I’ve lost myself. I look nothing like the strong, empowered, sexy warrior I know myself to be. My shoulders slump. Blood drips from my fingertips. I spot Marshal behind me, jaw so tense it may snap in two. I turn away, horrified that of all people, he’s seen me like this.

“You’re making a mess on my floors,” he says quietly. I hear his footsteps on the hardwoods as he walks over and touches my shoulder. Something inside me cracks, unleashes, and I spin, my hand already outstretched, careening towards his face. He catches my wrist, slippery with blood, and shining green eyes meet mine.

I don’t say a word. I can’t.

We stand inches apart and I stare at his bare chest, at the planes of muscle and the scattering of hair that builds as it travels downward. He’s caught me at my weakest. My most humiliated, and if he ever wants to get the upper hand, here’s his chance.

Marshal shrugs off his rob, and I close my eyes, still caught in his grip. I feel the flutter of soft cotton graze my legs, then unexpectedly wrap around my sore fingertips.

“We need to get these cleaned up.”

I blink at the softness in his voice. “What?”

“Your fingers. Gods, they’re butchered. What the fuck happened out there?”

I look up, taking in his face, processing the pained expression. “I was cleaning. Marielle walked out and dropped a glass right in front of me and…”

“First, why were you cleaning?” He takes in my uniform. “Spying?”

“Punishment. From Victorine for not going to the challenge yesterday.”

His jaw tics.

“So she made you clean rooms.” He chuckles darkly. “Classic Victorine. Degrading and efficient.”

He unwraps the robe, now soaked with blood, to see if the bleeding has stopped. He gestures to the couch. “Sit. I’ve got some supplies in my bathroom.”

I move to the couch, stepping over discarded bottles of alcohol and stubbed out cigarettes. The room is a mess. Marshal has clearly continued to celebrate Roland’s appointment. I sit anyway, tired from being on my feet all morning.

He returns a moment later, tugging a shirt over his head with one hand and carrying a small box in the other. He rests the box on the coffee table and straightens his shirt. He’s still only in a tight pair of shorts, which are eye level as he rummages through the box. Once he’s picked out a few bandages and a pot of ointment, he brushes off the table and sits across from me. I don’t fight him when he takes both of my hands and rests them in his lap.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell Marielle to fuck off?”

“Yes.” I watch his long fingers pluck a cotton ball off the table and douse it in clear alcohol. He dabs it over the painful, sharp cuts.

“Care to expand?”

I wince in pain and he pauses, looking at me with cautious eyes. I exhale, and h

e continues. “Let’s just say that my disobedience would have caused problems for other, innocent people.”

That answer, and the cleanliness of my wounds, seems to satisfy him. He picks up the ointment and carefully coats my fingertips. The salve is warm, heating my fingertips. It clearly has healing properties. “I’m assuming Victorine held something else over you, too.”

“Are you fishing for details?”

He pauses, locking eyes. “I’m trying to figure out exactly why the bad ass Valkyrie that takes zero shit from anyone was bent over, with her ass hanging out, picking up glass dropped by an inconsequential vampire?”

“I cleaned toilets, too.”

He mutters a curse under his breath.

“She gave me a choice,” I admit, not sure why I’m telling him. Also, sure that I’ll regret it. “I can give her the key, and she’ll stop the challenges.”

“I’m assuming you said no.”