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others.
    Even though she was a ful immortal now—her appetite for food had disappeared, her need for war
    burgeoning—she lingered with him here at his camp.
    I am better for being here, for being with him. She was a better swordswoman—though he hadn’t
    deemed her ready for war yet, and she secretly feared he never would.
    She was a better lover. Though he hadn’t coupled with her.
    Seven months ago, she had tried repeatedly to seduce him, coaxing him to take her completely. Yet in
    time she’d come to want more of him, too. No, he couldn’t win her heart, but he’d won her desires. He’d
    pleasured her relentlessly, teaching her to slake him as wel .
    Each time he set off to battle, she demanded, “Take me with you, warrior.” His ploy to keep her in
    camp? He left her sexual y sated and sprawled on the furs, exhausted but glowing with bliss. Already
    pining for him to return.
    As he’d done so long ago, Regin had begun to ask herself, why not him?
    Because once she’d learned how to handle her stormy berserker—knowing when to tease him, when
    to claw him, when to draw him into her arms and murmur, “Shh, be at ease, warlord”— life with him had been surprisingly gratifying.
    He treated her like a goddess, spoiling her with gifts and surprises. And they laughed constantly. She
    savored the sound of his laughter coming from his big barrel chest—as wel as his gruff words of
    affection: “Remember those years ago when I vowed I would love you one day? I told you true.”
    Could any male make her feel as he had the night he’d lightly rasped his blond stubble over her
    stomach and murmured, “I want babes with you—berserker sons and Valkyrie daughters.” He’d raised
    his head, gazing at her with clear gray eyes. “Give them to me one day?”
    Having a Valkyrie for his mate had done nothing to curb his arrogance. He behaved like an immortal
    already—even more arrogant and lordly—thril ing her. “Wóden wil look upon me with favor,” he’d told her.
    “No male could treasure his daughter more than I do you.”
    ’Twas simple enough. Regin desired him above al males and knew she always would, which meant two
    decades was far too short—
    He stumbled through the door.
    She gave a cry, leaping to her feet. “Thank gods, you’ve returned! Where have you …” She trailed off
    at the wild look on his face. “Aidan?”
    His eyes ablaze, he dropped his bloody ax, then ripped off his sword belt and crimson-stained tunic.
    His tattooed chest heaved as he stalked toward her, his expression warning her to take a step back.
    Then another.
    “Aidan, say something.”
    “They tried to keep me from you.” He backed her into the table, cornering her, predatory.
    “Who? The vampires?”
    “ No one keeps me from you. Not immortals, not men, not a god. Nothing can keep me from you.”
    “Aidan, wh-what are you doing? You’re on the very edge. You must calm yourself.”
    “My life passed before me, Reginleit. I’d rushed to battle because I want you forever—only to fal
    without a single night inside you? The idea sent me into a frenzy!”
    She’d never seen him this far gone when not fighting. They both worked to keep him from reaching his
    berserkrage, knowing he’d lose control to the beast within.
    The beast that roared inside him to claim its mate.
    “I left a wake of death to return to you”—his hand shot out to cup her nape, yanking her close—“to
    make you mine in al ways.” He dipped his head to nip her breast, making her gasp. “Tonight I’l ride your little body til you scream with pleasure.”
    “Have you fever? Are you maddened?” She shoved him away, but again, he stalked closer. “You know
    why we can’t!”
    “We can! You are mine to claim. Ohal a is mine to take! I demand it al —mine by right.”
    “This is the berserkrage speaking … speaking nonsense . Think about what you are saying! We’ve set
    our course, and we wil be steadfast.”
    Regin knew that the