could ask, he continued, “Now, about every five hundred years, an Accession comes, and—”
“What’s an Accession?” “It’s a force that affects Lorekind by pitting species against each other. Some think it began as a
mechanism to kill off immortals, or we’d never die, continue spawning, and overrun the earth. So every five centuries, unique things happen. And you’re one of them.” “What do you mean?” “With each Accession, a Lorekind female called a Vessel reaches sexual maturity. Her firstborn will be the ultimate warrior for either good or evil, depending on the father’s inclination.” “That’s why those demons wanted to…to…” “Breed with you? Yeah. And the leeches wanted to kill you because they didn’t know if the demons had
already completed their ritual.” Her brows drew together. “Wait. I’m called a Vessel ? Could there be a more derogatory term? By its very
definition, a vessel is of no importance compared to its contents. Vessels are disposable. Couldn’t these Lorekind have gone with baby maker or bun oven ?” “I lobbied for cargo hold, but just lost out.” Again, she recrossed her legs. They were toned, taut—all that swimming had done her right. He wondered what she would do if he reached over and put his hand on her knee, sliding it up her thigh.
There’d be no panties to get in his way….
As if she knew his musings, she pulled the jacket down with a glare. Hell, he might have to turn her over to Rydstrom completely. No. As soon as the thought arose, Cade swatted it down. Call him a glutton for punishment, but he was going to take every second with her that he could get.
“All kinds of factions, both good and evil, will be searching for you,” he continued, “wanting you either bred or dead. Even some of the good guys will seek to kill you.” “Why?” “Because in the last seven Accessions, only one good offspring has been born. The rest are evil.” “So the odds are that mine would be, too.”
“Exactly. They’d act for the greater good, or to ensure their own dominance.” “What if I got my tubes tied or something?” “They’ll kill you to make sure.” And it probably wouldn’t take anyway. She was too far gone into the
transition to Valkyrie. If she had surgery, her body would simply “heal” it. She was quiet for long moments. “This sounds really dangerous, protecting me. Are you doing it just for the pay?”
I’ve been protecting you for months. Because you drive me crazy, and I want you more than is right.
“Yeah, just for the pay. I have a history of taking on tough jobs.” “How much are you getting?”
“Something priceless to my family.” “More specific, please,” she said in a voice she probably used with unruly jocks. Second rule of being a mercenary: Lie through your teeth—but stick as close to the truth as possible to
keep it convincing and less complicated. “My brother Rydstrom—the one we’re meeting—is king of our kind, the rage demons. But his kingdom was usurped by a dark sorcerer called Omort the Deathless. Like the name indicates, he can’t be killed in the usual ways.”
“Usual ways?” “Most immortals can be killed only by an otherworldly fire or by beheading. Omort is immune even to
those means. As you can imagine, he’s hard as hell to defeat. But now, if I do this job with you, I’ll get a sword that was forged specifically to kill him.” “A dark sorcerer.” She pinched her forehead. “It just keeps getting better. I wonder that he doesn’t want
‘the Vessel’ for himself, since everyone else seems to.” That supposition was a little close for comfort. A wicked sorcerer did want her, just not the one she was aware of. So Cade told her the truth: “Omort won’t seek you. He can’t breed with a Vessel. Because he was born of one.” But his half brother Groot hadn’t been. “So if Rydstrom is a king, then you’re a prince?”
“Of a lost crown.” “Is he the one
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