Read Online Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole - Free Book Online
Authors: Kresley Cole
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the bat. “Don’t worry, dearling. You’ll fly out tonight. I promise.”
“Are you talking to me or Bertil? Oh, me? Then, fine.” She gunned the car even faster, speeding toward the Quarter.
Lucia, I’m on my way … just hold tight.
“Tell me where my victims are.”
TWO
L ate for what?
What the hell had the soothsayer meant? Declan was half-tempted to confront Nïx, but she was not to be engaged, by his commander’s order.
So for now he bided his time, pursuing the pair of Valkyrie. Since his Humvee stood no chance of keeping up with Regin’s sports car and maniacal driving, he’d tracked her vehicle while he listened to their conversation—or what he could make out over the static. It was as if an electrical field had interrupted the relay.
What he’d heard had made little sense to Declan—talk of berserkers and cannibals and some absent sister. All he knew for certain was that Regin had been dispatched to kill.
Not who, not where, only why.
An example killing.
Historically her enemies were the vampires and certain species of demons. She might lead him to an entire nest of their kinds.
Once he’d reached the Quarter, he quickly spotted Regin’s car, parked half on the street, half on the curb. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar car treated like junk. He’d throttle her just for abusing a car that fine.
He parked a couple of blocks away, then hurried into the crowd, searching for the two. Though he was several minutes behind, he swiftly reencountered Regin sauntering down Bourbon Street alone.
Easy enough to track her. She left a trail of slack-jawed men in her wake.
And they reacted not only to her glowing skin. The Valkyrie walked with an otherworldly sensuality, her hips swishing in those low-cut jeans, her plump arse attracting male gazes like moths to a flame. Some men adjusted obvious erections or rubbed cheeks recently slapped by outraged girlfriends.
As Declan trailed her, even he felt his shaft twitch, as if trying to stir for her—though his “medicine” would make that impossible.
To be aroused by a revolting detrus? When nothing else could tempt his deadened, scarred body?
While others in the Order called the immortals
miscreats,
short for miscreations, Declan often used the term
detrus,
the coarsest word they had for them.
It meant “vilest abomination.”
That was how he saw them. How he’d always seen them, ever since he’d learned of their existence twenty years ago. …
As the Valkyrie covered blocks, several beings approached her. More witches tried to coax her to go out with them. Two pointed-eared females—likely more Valkyrie—twirled swords, looking like they were primed for a battle and inviting Regin to come along.
She turned them all down with a grin, which promptly faded as she moved on.
Even more beings avoided her. Declan noticed several large males striding in the opposite direction when she came into sight; all wore hats of some type. No doubt behorned demons.
The field notes in her dossier reported that she was notoriously hard on demons. Whereas she simply
ended
vampires.
When she paused to text something on her cell phone, he drew back behind the cover of a nearby building. Then she gazed up with a peculiar look of sadness. That expression didn’t fit her glowing, animated face, seeming as foreign as joy on a dying man’s visage.
She stowed her phone back on her belt, then crossed to a back alley behind a five-story hotel. Without warning, she leapt to a balcony on the fourth floor, easily jogging along the rail before scaling to the roof. There he saw her hunch down at the edge, her ears twitching once more as she searched for her prey.
A perfect killer.
If it weren’t for the Order, immortals would likely rule the earth.
Recently, several had made strikes against well-known human leaders around the world. His commander, Preston Webb, had told him, “Even the more moderate species are aggressing on us, son. Any tenuous truce has fallen by
“Are you talking to me or Bertil? Oh, me? Then, fine.” She gunned the car even faster, speeding toward the Quarter.
Lucia, I’m on my way … just hold tight.
“Tell me where my victims are.”
TWO
L ate for what?
What the hell had the soothsayer meant? Declan was half-tempted to confront Nïx, but she was not to be engaged, by his commander’s order.
So for now he bided his time, pursuing the pair of Valkyrie. Since his Humvee stood no chance of keeping up with Regin’s sports car and maniacal driving, he’d tracked her vehicle while he listened to their conversation—or what he could make out over the static. It was as if an electrical field had interrupted the relay.
What he’d heard had made little sense to Declan—talk of berserkers and cannibals and some absent sister. All he knew for certain was that Regin had been dispatched to kill.
Not who, not where, only why.
An example killing.
Historically her enemies were the vampires and certain species of demons. She might lead him to an entire nest of their kinds.
Once he’d reached the Quarter, he quickly spotted Regin’s car, parked half on the street, half on the curb. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar car treated like junk. He’d throttle her just for abusing a car that fine.
He parked a couple of blocks away, then hurried into the crowd, searching for the two. Though he was several minutes behind, he swiftly reencountered Regin sauntering down Bourbon Street alone.
Easy enough to track her. She left a trail of slack-jawed men in her wake.
And they reacted not only to her glowing skin. The Valkyrie walked with an otherworldly sensuality, her hips swishing in those low-cut jeans, her plump arse attracting male gazes like moths to a flame. Some men adjusted obvious erections or rubbed cheeks recently slapped by outraged girlfriends.
As Declan trailed her, even he felt his shaft twitch, as if trying to stir for her—though his “medicine” would make that impossible.
To be aroused by a revolting detrus? When nothing else could tempt his deadened, scarred body?
While others in the Order called the immortals
miscreats,
short for miscreations, Declan often used the term
detrus,
the coarsest word they had for them.
It meant “vilest abomination.”
That was how he saw them. How he’d always seen them, ever since he’d learned of their existence twenty years ago. …
As the Valkyrie covered blocks, several beings approached her. More witches tried to coax her to go out with them. Two pointed-eared females—likely more Valkyrie—twirled swords, looking like they were primed for a battle and inviting Regin to come along.
She turned them all down with a grin, which promptly faded as she moved on.
Even more beings avoided her. Declan noticed several large males striding in the opposite direction when she came into sight; all wore hats of some type. No doubt behorned demons.
The field notes in her dossier reported that she was notoriously hard on demons. Whereas she simply
ended
vampires.
When she paused to text something on her cell phone, he drew back behind the cover of a nearby building. Then she gazed up with a peculiar look of sadness. That expression didn’t fit her glowing, animated face, seeming as foreign as joy on a dying man’s visage.
She stowed her phone back on her belt, then crossed to a back alley behind a five-story hotel. Without warning, she leapt to a balcony on the fourth floor, easily jogging along the rail before scaling to the roof. There he saw her hunch down at the edge, her ears twitching once more as she searched for her prey.
A perfect killer.
If it weren’t for the Order, immortals would likely rule the earth.
Recently, several had made strikes against well-known human leaders around the world. His commander, Preston Webb, had told him, “Even the more moderate species are aggressing on us, son. Any tenuous truce has fallen by
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