Declan's body shot through with tension. "You found Neoptera." Their nests were rare; it'd been years since Declan had encountered any of their kind.
"Yes. In southern Australia."
Only a few hours away by chopper. This could be an opportunity to prove himself-and the chance to do what he loved above all things.
Slaughtering Neoptera. Hatred so vicious it burns cold.
"I need this, sir."
"Yes." The man gazed at him shrewdly. "I think it's exactly what you need."
The stench of rotting flesh engulfed Declan and his men as they closed in on an abandoned warehouse. The smel of old victims.
Which meant that they'd found the Neo nest. At last.
He and his team had dusted off directly after Slaine's successful capture, and for the better part of a week they'd hunted along the murky quays of southern Australia.
He waved half his men toward the back of the building to block off the only other exit. They wore night- vision goggles and had their sidearms drawn. No TEP-Cs tonight-this was going to be a close-quarter bug hunt.
Declan had unsheathed his sword and was ready to get his hands dirty. Ready to prove himself.
He'd gotten through Slaine's capture without throttling Fegley-a feat in itself. Acting as a mere fail-safe in the background, Declan had done nothing, just watched another heading his mission.
He'd even held his tongue as Fegley had taunted him. Apparently the warden had put two and two together: Declan's interest in the Valkyrie, fol owed by his downgraded clearance.
"Golden boy Chase," he'd said. "Not so perfect after all . Got caught with his hand in the cookie jar."
Declan shook away those thoughts, needing to stay focused. Already he was in strung-out shape. For days, he'd been unable-or unwil ing-to sleep. To dream.
When they reached the entrance, he motioned for his team to activate their goggles, then feigned doing so as well , though he'd never needed them.
Inside the dark warehouse, the stench was pervasive. Four bodies lay tied, gagged, mutilated. An adult male and female and two children. A family.
Memories threatened to swamp Declan-scenes from a time when he had been bound and tormented, knowing death was coming.
Pleading for it.
Seeing the victims' wounds made his own skin crawl. His raised scars grew hypersensitive, as if he could still feel the injuries that had wrought them-
A male Neo swooped down on him, delivering a blow that hurtled him across the space. Four other creatures attacked as one.
Declan tasted blood, ripped off his goggles. His heart began thundering in his ears, his muscles burgeoning.
He spat a mouthful of blood, then charged into the fray.
Gore splattered thickly over the wal s as Declan stabbed the last Neo, pinning its powerful body to the ground.
This one was the fourth he'd fel ed. His team had taken down the other.
Looming over the creature, Declan pierced its thorax to immobilize it, then unhurriedly twisted his sword as it thrashed. Its compound eyes stared up at him with sentience. When it lashed out its prehensile tongue, Declan eagerly punished it with another onerous twist of the blade, unable to disguise his satisfaction.
His men regarded him uneasily. They were hardened black-ops soldiers-mercenaries, assassins- and he was raising brows?
Never had he experienced camaraderie with them. For them, the Order was a job. It was Declan's life.
And they could never appreciate retribution like this-because they hadn't earned the right to it. ...
In time, he slammed his boot down against the Neo's head, wrenching free his sword to strike the killing blow.
But as he raised his weapon, Declan hesitated.
For years, he'd dreaded the effects of Neo blood, had wondered endlessly why they'd forced him to drink of their dead.
Now he realized they'd probably done it just to keep him conscious and alive for longer, nourishing him as they fed from fresh prey.
There was a more likely explanation for Declan's abilities. Going down swinging ...
Had he accepted that he was a berserker? No. But the mere possibility made Declan shake loose his old dread, made him accept that these beings would have no hold over his future.
They would never take more from him than what he'd already yielded-days of his life, pieces of his flesh ...
My family.
With a savage yel , he swung, decapitating the creature. Done. It's done.
Inhaling for calm, he ordered the team to do a cleanup, then trudged out into the humid night air to wipe down his sword.
With no more leads in this city, they'd be returning to the facility days early. Probably just as well ; once this adrenaline rush waned, he'd be completely exhausted.
As he gazed down the dimly-lit quay, he acknowledged that the Valkyrie had been right about one thing.
He was never meant to run a facility, to torture day in and day out. He was a hunter through and through.
He should be in the thick of the fray.
And again, his thoughts returned to Regin.
As far as she was concerned, he was dead inside. He didn't give a damn about the Valkyrie, didn't hate her, just felt numb when he thought of her.
Aye, cold as ash.
So why did I order Vincente to watch over her while I was gone?
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Declan arrived back at the base at six in the morning, limping, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, his fatigues blood-splattered.
Returning "home" from battle, like in that dream of Aidan's.
When the berserker had washed off the blood and gore, he'd found the Valkyrie waiting for him, needing him. Gazing up at him like he was a hero.
-Her face lights up when I come into view.-
Now, God help him, Declan's feet wanted to take him to her cel . Oh, aye, Dekko. So maybe she can try to finish you.
Instead, he forced himself to stagger to his solitary, grim quarters. He just needed some sleep. Then he'd think more clearly.
He gazed around his room-why had he never realized this was his own cel ? A soul ess hol ow space.
Just like his life.
Here he had no sweet kiss and soft woman waiting for him. No family. Just emptiness.
These goddamned detrus had more of a life than he did.
He sank down in front of the console, fighting the overriding urge to see Regin. It'd been a week. Just a glimpse ...
He pulled up the feed of her cel . She was asleep, curled on her side. She wore only her T-shirt and panties, with her hair spread over her shoulder.
Achingly beautiful.
He was expected to hate this female as much as the creatures he'd just hunted? To equate her kind with theirs? Impossible.
He exhaled. Numbing drugs or not, his emotionless existence was clearly over. He did feel, and all too strongly.
I want her so much. Even while she wants me dead.