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Trooper grins. “Whatever, brother. Here, I brought you some drinks.” He thrusts the beers at me, giving me no option but to take them from him. “Have fun you two. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
With those parting words, he walks away only to sidle up to a practically naked woman and grind his denim-clad dick against her ass.
“He’s… charming,” Makayla comments.
“He’s an asshole.”
For the next two hours, I take Makayla around and introduce her to the people I do know. As the evening wears on, she seems to relax and get more and more comfortable. I’d chalk it up to the alcohol, but she nurses the same beer all night.
“Do you want something else to drink?” I finally ask her when she guides me out of the throng of people to stand by the wall.
“No, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? You’ve barely touched the beer.”
“I know, but only because I’m driving.”
Ah, yes. It’s illegal to consume alcohol and drive here. I forgot about that because we don’t feel the effects of the booze and no such rule exists in Valhalla.
“Right. Smart thinking.”
Makayla nods but her attention is captured by something across the room. I follow her gaze and see that she’s looking at the VRMC logo that’s painted on the wall.
“That’s Odin’s shield,” I explain. “And the two axes represent the two types of people that serve him in Valhalla: Warriors and Valkyries.”
“Why is your club called Valhalla Rising?” she asks, genuine curiosity in her tone.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I’m a Warrior from Valhalla, that we really do exist, but I don’t. It’s against the damn Code.
“The club’s founder believed he was a descendent of a Warrior,” I tell her, recalling the backstory that Ms. Steinbeck provided in our folders. “I don’t know if Valhalla is real or myth, but I like the idea that there’s a place in heaven for people like us.”
“People like you?”
“Warriors.”
“Yeah, but, you’re not warriors,” she says. “Not in the way the mythology describes.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how someone could get facts wrong about Valhalla when Odin first assigned me this mission, but I’m getting it now.
“How does mythology describe it?” I ask cautiously.
Makayla’s face lights up, clearly happy with the subject. “In order to gain entry into Valhalla, a man must die bravely in battle. And typically, they live their lives to serve Odin and believe in the heaven he created whole-heartedly.”
Well, that’s not accurate, otherwise, I wouldn’t be a Warrior.
“Is that what the books say?”
“That’s what everything says,” she quips.
“Theneverythingis wrong.”
Her good mood diminishes, and her eyes darken. “I don’t think so.”
Remember the mission. Don’t forget why you were sent here in the first place.
It’s hard to stick to the plans as they were laid out for me, especially after Kára’s earlier visit, but if I’m wrong and Makayla is simply an assignment, it’s in my best interest to do exactly that.
Even if it shatters my soul in the process.
