Immortal, Insatiable, Indomitable. Olivia Gates
on her.”
“Why take turns? Bet she’s used to ten at once.”
Their intentions jolted him like lightning bolts.
He wouldn’t have let them endanger any mortal. But her?
Time for heads to roll.
He willed himself back to his feet, forced the words through blood-filled lungs and torn lips. “Here’s the thing, you ass-gardian pieces of shit. Torturing and killing me, I would have let you get away with without a scratch. But insulting the lady? Threatening her with that vileness? By Loki’s Locket, even thinking it? For that, you die.”
“Sure, pussyboy, when you’re two seconds from dead.”
“You couldn’t raise a hand to do shit when you were in one piece. Now we crushed you like a nut, what you gonna do? Glare us to death? Oh, wait, you can’t even do that anymore.”
“Here, let us put you out of your misery.”
Vidar caught one fist on its way to his gut and another targeting his windpipe. He tore the first clear off, ripped off the entire arm attached to the second.
The disbelief in his attackers’ eyes spattered him along with the geyser of blood. Then realization, terror and agony exploded on butchered howls.
“Since I can’t raise my hands, how about I make do with your buddies’?” He threw the appendage and limb at their colleagues.
They all jumped back in horror. The ones he’d torn apart crumpled to the ground. Two down. Eight more to go.
But first, Jack.
He charged through the now-paralyzed thugs, agony skewering through him with every step. The woman had been holding her own until Jack saw what Vidar had done to his pals. He stopped trying to evade her strikes, took two crushing hits so he could get to her.
Then he had her in a chokehold, screamed, “One more step, you son of a bitch, and I gouge her neck out.”
“I wanted to make your death the most protracted and agonizing.” Vidar’s torn lips pulled back in vicious humor. “Oh, well. Long ago, my mother told me I can’t have everything I want.” He met the woman’s eyes. They were huge, gleaming emeralds in the dimness. Somehow they contained no terror. They transmitted mostly fury. Good girl. He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Duck.”
She didn’t hesitate. She exploded in her captor’s hold, plowing her elbow into his gut with all she had. He gasped, loosened his arm. She dropped down, giving Vidar a clear shot.
He shifted his working arm into a blade as wide as a broadsword and, in one sweep, lopped off Jack’s head.
Without a sound, the woman bolted sideways, escaping the path of spraying blood as the head fell at Vidar’s feet with the inimitable sound only heads made on impacting asphalt.
Keeping her behind him, he faced the remaining seven. The horror in their eyes was turning to desperation.
Sustaining another injury was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t go down and leave even one standing to hunt her down. He had to finish them all off, quickly.
He waited until they charged, rage and dread and momentum throwing them off-balance, before shifting his arm into a tentacle as thick as an Asgardian serpent. He lashed it out, reaping them all and lassoing them up in the air. Then he catapulted them to crash down at his feet.
Before any of them could regain his feet, he shifted his arm back to sword-mode. Beheading was one sure way to kill a mortal Endowed. Ripping out hearts and spilling brains worked, too. But those methods were messier and not time-effective. Any other injury could leave the injured able to regroup, reattack.
He finished off the seven, turned to the ones he’d injured first. They’d gotten over their shock and were trying to slink away.
But even armless and handless, they posed as great a danger to her as their now-headless friends had. She could implicate them to the human authorities. They wouldn’t let her be. They had to join their gang in death. In moments, they did.
Standing over the scattered body parts, he forced himself to straighten, looked over to her. She was still there.
Her eyes were stricken.
She hadn’t looked alarmed when she’d seen him rip off limbs with his bare hands. But seeing parts of him shift into weapons and creatures that existed only in mortal nightmares had probably been too much. Not to mention watching him behead ten men, even if they’d been about to rape her to death.
It was a miracle she hadn’t run away screaming long ago.
“God, you’re…” She encompassed him with a frantic gesture.
He looked down. His right arm, still shifting back to its natural shape, looked even more grotesque in midform.
Guess that meant ravishing her was out of the question now.
“I-I’m so sorry.” She was? For what? No longer being interested in jumping his bones? “I should have followed you sooner.” He stared at her. That was what she was sorry about? Being slow to attend this massacre? “They…they tore you apart….”
She stopped again, swallowed, a shudder racking her.
His erection, unheeding of any other part of him that was torn or crushed, made its approval of everything about her rock solid. The siren song that flowed from her lips, the beauty that was now a canvas for such vivid emotions, the generosity of the body that trembled with the effect of each.
Her voice caught, cracked. “It’s just…I hesitated to call the police. I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate their presence.”
He sure wouldn’t. Mortal scum he could dispatch. Mortal law enforcement he avoided at all costs.
But did she mean that… “You called them?”
She nodded.
Shit.
His hand, which was back to its natural form but felt more shattered than before he’d shifted it, hurt like Odin’s sorry ass as he fumbled for his cell phone. He speed dialed Daven.
On the second ring, the line opened. Daven’s mocking voice poured into his ear.
“Legion of Loki Lodge. How can I help you, darlin’?”
“You can grab Alvar and get your smart asses down here, stat.” He grunted the address, specified the alley. “Get the big truck.”
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