Valkyrie's Harem: Paranormal Romance (Academy of Immortals Book 1) Read online

  Valkyrie’s Harem

  Academy of Immortals (Book 1)

  Angel Lawson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Angel Lawson

  1

  Valkyrie’s Harem follows characters from The Raven Queen’s Harem. The events in this book will make more sense if you’ve read the prior series, although it’s not necessary.

  Hildi

  The crystal chandelier hangs over the dressing room, casting the room in a warm glow. It’s an obvious attempt by the lingerie boutique owners who want their customers to feel comfortable and attractive in the flattering light. Not that the girl behind the curtain needs help. She’s already glowing.

  I sit in the soft, cushiony chair, waiting for Morgan to come out of the dressing room. We’d come to this fancy little shop to get something special for her to wear for her anniversary of meeting the Ravens. If the stack of lingerie is any indication of her mood, the Nead is going to vibrate tonight, which, frankly, is pretty much like almost every other night since they accepted their fate.

  I’m about to bust in on her and tell her to hurry when I hear, “Holy cow, I’m huge.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Girl, it’s bad. I mean…well, look for yourself.”

  The curtain pulls back.

  I feel my eyes pop wide as I take in the tight, sexy, lace nightgown. “Damn.”

  Her tits are, uh, huge.

  She nods and holds them with her hands like ripe melons. “Can you believe this? I mean, I’m hardly showing, but my boobs are freaking massive.”

  I can’t stop looking. I mean, I am bisexual. My last partner, Andi, was a woman. And even though I’m not remotely attracted to Morgan, I can’t help myself.

  “Do you think they’ll get bigger the further along you get?”

  Her hand rests on her small but growing belly. Morgan is six months married and four months pregnant. Those men couldn’t wait to fill her up with a baby, and she’s never looked happier or more content. Oh, and sexy. Damn, who knew pregnant chicks were so freaking sexy?

  She smiles. “I don’t know, but if they do, I’m never getting any sleep. Damien is already obsessed, and—”

  I hold up my hand. “Nope. You know part of our friendship deal is I don’t question the fact you married five guys, and you don’t tell me everything you do with them. I mean, I hear a lot of it, and that’s enough. Trust me. Totally enough.”

  She walks over and gives me a big hug, squishing those perfect tits against my chest. “You’re an amazing friend, you know that, right?”

  “No, you’re amazing.” Seriously, we’re both amazing. “Come on, let's wrap that up so you can go home, and they can undress you all night long.” I imagine it’s a cycle of dressing and undressing and fucking and god, no, see? This is why I can’t go there. It’s never-ending lust and happiness.

  And me?

  I watch as Morgan vanishes behind the curtain to change. I’ve been alone since losing Andi, and I’m okay with that. I needed time, friendship, and a chance to heal.

  Thankfully, my friend has given me all of that and more.

  The smell of a delicious dinner hits me the instant I step through the front door. Morgan requested a special meal, a special seven p.m. dinner time for her and her husbands. She’d also given me a specific task.

  “I promise I’ll have everyone out of the house by 6:30 and keep them out until after midnight.”

  Them is the Legion of Immortals. Six men--no, make that six warriors--that have lived here for the last seven months. The Nead is less house than hostel with so many wayward souls in it. To thank the boys and Morgan, I’ve sort of taken the group under my wing. It’s like being in charge of a fraternity or something. You know, if they had fraternities for the immortally damned hundreds of years ago.

  “Thank you, Hildi. You’re the best.” The instant the words leave her mouth, a loud crash echoes up the stairs from the basement.

  Davis runs out from the dining room holding a carving knife, looking a little frantic. He’s been on edge since the battle in the Otherside. Even more so since the announcement of Morgan’s pregnancy. “Everything okay? Mrs. Morgan? Miss Axel?”

  “We’re fine,” Morgan says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “I’m sure it’s just the guys. Again.”

  “Oh,” he replies, voice strained. “Of course.”

  “I’ll go wrangle them.” I squeeze Morgan’s hand. “Have a fantastic night.”

  “Are you sure you can handle them alone? One time in middle school I had to babysit a group of triplets. They overpowered me and when the parents got home I was tied to a chair, and they had eaten all the ice cream.” She shakes her head at the memory. “This is double that. Six.”

  “I know,” I tell her, walking toward the stairs. “But I’m a Valkyrie, not a little girl. Trust me. I’ve got this under control.”

  I’ve just turned the corner when I hear her say to Davis, “Thank god she’s got them in line, or they would have destroyed this house months ago.”

  2

  Hildi

  Morgan’s husbands, the legendary Raven Guard, freed the Legion of Immortals from their blood contract with the Shaman. The Guardians needed an army to defeat the Morrigan and keep her from sweeping the apocalypse through this world and wiping out humanity. They knew the best warriors for the job. The Ravens made a bet—one they won—and the Legion fought heroically alongside the rest of us against The Morrigan. Unfortunately, they’d been enslaved for so long they had no idea how to live in the modern world. Dylan opened the doors—well, the basement—of the Nead to them until they acclimate.

  I suspect they’ll be down there for another millennia.

  The Immortals are warriors from ancient times, brought together by Camulus, the Celtic God of War. The god searched the world for the strongest, most lethal, and often barbaric soldiers. Each of these men were known for heroic last stands, something that caught Camulus’ attention above the millions of other soldiers in history. He collected them right off the battlefield, moments after their death. He blessed them with immortality for a lifetime of service. They fought for the god, doling out a particular sort of bloody warfare that increased their legend. They were soulless, vengeful, and without a trace of mortality.

  But there were six that were different from the others. They fought, killed, and pillaged as Camulus directed, but after time they refused to do his bidding any further. They were tired of blood on their hands
and the ash in their lungs. They demanded to be released from their contract and sent to the afterworld.

  Legend says he studied these men that had served him so well and considered their demands.

  Miya, a Japanese swordsman, killed his first man at the age of five. With a sharpened stick.

  Agis, leader of the Spartan army, that although he was severely injured refused to stop, allowing his soldiers to push through to victory. Camulus waited eagerly for him to pass and proclaimed him the God of Death. He then gave him the reaper’s scythe to kill and terrorize.

  Roland, a peer of Charlemagne, was simply known for being a ruthless general. He’s nothing less than a bad-ass warrior who is willing to take on an army alone.

  Marshal, known for his easy good looks and charming grin, bested over 500 knights and conquered large swaths of land for his kings. His kills were brutal, merciless, and he left the villages and towns pillaged of worth, wealth, and women.

  Armin, the German strongman that rampaged through the countryside. Muscles upon muscles. Little to no fear. He brought terror into the heart of his victims.

  And Rupert, a young prince and war enthusiast. He secretly joined his father’s army and was so good at strategy and missions, defeating enemies, that rumors followed him that he had supernatural powers.

  Camulus finally agreed to release them from their contract, but he didn’t undo their immortality. He cursed them with it instead, adding the guilt of their past deeds, and sold their contract to the Shaman for a different life of blood and sport, chaining them to the fighting rings. There, they became known as the Legion of Immortals.

  They lived this life for centuries, until the Raven Guard won their contract and used them for their own battle and subsequently set the six damaged, restless warriors free.

  Now, we all live here together.

  I stand at the bar and watch the men I left at a table across the room carefully. I assess them one by one, keeping track of them. Six. They’re a lot to handle. Impulsive, socially confused by modern life, and uniquely dangerous. There’s no way around it. They’re terrifyingly dangerous, but for some reason, they listen to me.

  Sort of.

  It helps when I slap on my bitch face, which, to be honest, is most of the time now. I just don’t have the energy to do much more. Grief is an energy-sucking bastard.

  “Risked bringing them into public, eh?” Circe the bartender asks. The girl wipes down wet glasses and places them on the shelf behind the bar.

  “Anniversary gift to Morgan and the guys.”

  “It’s been a year already?” Circe’s eyes widen at the thought. A lot has happened in the last year.

  “Yep. I figured they could use a little time without us around.”

  “I doubt you’re much of a problem,” she says, then glances over at the men. “Them, on the other hand…”

  “They’re a handful,” I concede, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. My Viking-blonde hair shines even in the dim light and my eyes are crystal blue. I’m tall, extremely so, and I know beneath that beneath my clothes there’s nothing but a fit, lean body. Everything about me is fit for battle. “I couldn’t take them to the fights—too many bad memories. And all-human events are still out. They don’t have the manners. I figured at least with the wards in place, they couldn’t sneak weapons in the bar.”

  “Good idea.”

  The guys hang around the table, mostly happy to just be out and about. Empty bottles line the table that looks too small compared to their massive, well-defined bodies. They sprawl over every surface. Long legs, broad shoulders. Armin’s long blond hair is tied behind his neck and his arm hangs over the back of the chair next to him. Roland animatedly discusses something using his hands. His shoulders tense and expression is angry.

  “Is that a problem?” she asks.

  “I don’t think so. He’s just…intense?” I run my hands over my hair. “Dylan said once Camulus released them from their contracts, they regained their souls. They’ve adjusted to the sins of their past differently. Roland? Seems like he carries a lot of pent-up anger.”

  “Maybe he should go back to the fights.”

  “Without the Shaman’s hold, he’d tear the place apart. I’ve watched them spar in the training room at The Nead. These guys are vicious.” And very skilled. Fast. Disciplined. No wonder they eliminated the Morrigan’s army so quickly.

  Next to Roland is Marshal, who keeps looking at one of the female fae hanging out by the pool tables. He’s the most flirtatious of the group, a trait that is harder to resist than I’d like to admit. He’s handsome with a strong jaw and pretty green eyes. I watch him closely.

  Circe notices.

  “That won’t end well.”

  Fae are notoriously temperamental; especially when it comes to the opposite sex.

  “I told him. I told all of them,” I grumble. I mean, I get it. They’re horny. They’ve been chained up for decades with little or no release. Before that? They took what they wanted, when they wanted. Barbarians, really. I’ve been trying to teach them slowly how to acclimate to current society, but it’s hard. They spent many years as entitled warriors. It’s not like that here.

  The men all stopped aging around the same point of life—mid-twenties. All probably in their peak physically, which is how they came to such leadership in their various armies. Rupert is a little younger, looks about twenty-one with his reddish-blond hair that curls over his ears. I know physical appearance is a trick with immortal beings. I’m in a similar situation, definitely older than what my body and face present.

  The fairy, thin and svelte, leans over the pool table to line up her shot. Her butt is wrapped up tight in the denim of her skinny jeans, and Marshal hasn’t stopped staring for a full minute. He stands, and I’m on the move before he can get us all in trouble. I skirt between him and the fairy.

  “Hildi,” he says, eyes darting to his prey, “I thought you were getting more drinks.”

  “I was.” I place my hands on my hips. “Until you started skulking around.”

  “Skulking?” His accent has a faint trace of his British heritage. I won’t deny it’s alluring.

  “I told you—no females.”

  His green eyes hold mine. “Just because you’re a sexless prude doesn’t mean we have to be.”

  I take a step back. “Did you just call me a sexless prude?”

  He shrugs and lifts the bottle of mead to his lips. Roland, of course, has to chime in, “When was the last time you had a good fuck? Because I’m certainly not hearing your bed bang against the walls all night like your friend Morgan.”

  It’s a low blow. He’s well aware that I lost the love of my life, Andi. That she got sick and died from the awful virus the Morrigan unleashed on the world. Tears burn at the corner of my eyes. I glance around, worried others are listening, but no one is, not even Circe who is helping a customer. No one but the other guys at the table seem to notice me and Marshal.

  In a low voice I say, “Fuck you, Roland. You don’t know anything about me.” I look at the fairy, who’s pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder and is listening to us. I issue a warning to Marshal, “Keep your hands to yourself. That was the deal.”

  He swallows and nods. He may not be afraid of me, but he is loyal to the Raven Guard. These aren’t my rules—we’re all just following orders.

  I grab a bottle of mead off the table and head to the back door, trying to keep my hand shaking to a minimum. The air on the small deck is warm, the city cooling from the summer day. I take a swig and then another, refusing to look back when the door opens behind me.

  Whoever came out is also quiet and just sits on the wooden picnic table just out of my view. “You didn’t have to follow me,” I say, taking another drink from the bottle.

  “You’re not the only one that needed some air.”

  Miya stares at the ground. His hair is short on the back and sides, thick and wavy on the top. His cheekbones could cut glass.
A thick scar runs down his neck, vanishing into the collar of his shirt. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s the one that came out here. Bars and having fun are low on his list of activities. He spends most of his free time meditating and channeling some kind of zen. I probably need a little bit of his inner peace.

  Well, if there is such a thing.

  “Don’t let Roland get to you. He has a knack for picking out a person’s weak spot.”

  “My sex life isn’t a weak spot, Miya.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “No?”

  I sit next to him and rest my arms on my knees. “No. It’s not about sex. It’s about…love, you know? I loved Andi. And I miss her. She was my best friend.”

  He frowns, so much of this is hard for them to understand. They lived a barbaric life of murder and rage. I forget this sometimes. So I ask, “Did you ever love anyone?”

  He thinks on it, which is something I like about him. “No, I don’t think so. I was a warrior before I hit puberty. Women weren’t something to love but simply a release.”

  I nod. I get this. I’m a Valkyrie. Our duty is to Freya and the afterworld, but then Andi happened. But they also lived so long. To never have found one love in a dozen lifetimes? It’s heartbreaking. “I guess Marshal is probably the same.”

  He laughs, and small lines appear by his eyes. It makes him seem softer. “We’re all the same.” He touches his heart. “Warriors first. Weapons second. Slaves third.”