Claimed by Eicher Cammie

Author:Eicher, Cammie [Eicher, Cammie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781607354956
Publisher: Resplendence Publishing, LLC
Published: 2012-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

Rhori slid out of the wasted body and resumed the familiar form of a raven. He tipped his head, watching the man through pitch black eyes flecked with gold. This man was no warrior. He was weak and unsuitable as a host. Yet he had knowledge of the woman. Rhori saw no choice but to use him until the mind and body broke.

He floated to the ground, landing by Mick’s shoulder. Flapping his wings, he cawed softly, willing the man to wake. Odin was waiting, and would not be satisfied until he had the woman before him.

Longing for his own plane raged through Rhori. He hated this world of hard surfaces and the loud noises belching from the metal boxes on the roads. Green fields that stretched as far as the eye could see in his land bore little resemblance to the patches of grass boxed in by fences. He’d watched people crowd into them, so near to one another and yet oblivious to all but their own wants and needs.

He cawed louder; Mick didn’t move. Rhori hopped onto the man’s back and pecked hard against his neck. When he was rewarded with a groan, he attacked Mick’s cheek with his beak until blood came. When the man’s eyes flickered open and his hand went to the wetness on his face, Rhori flew up to settle on a wire directly above the groggy man.

“What the hell?”

The words were more puzzled than angry. Rhori stared without blinking as the man pushed himself to his hands and knees, then shoved upright with a loud moan and curse words. He waited as his previous host bent over, consumed with dry heaves, and until he staggered to his large metal box and got in.

When the truck began to move, so did Rhori. The man needed rest, and Rhori was willing to be patient for a time. He wanted that body to be fully revived before he entered him again. This time, he refused to be denied his prize.

* * * *

Chiana leaned her head against the seat back, still not sure how her entire life could go to hell so fast. Until this morning, one hit every twenty-four hours of Wil’s magic serum, precisely timed, had kept her Valkyrie side calmed down and her human blood in control. Of course, that was before she’d been located.

A cold shiver ran through her at the memory of the cold hand against her skin, the whisper against her ear.

When she’d heard the harsh words, “You’re ours,” she had imagined some hell creature singling her out for execution, a demonic hit man with horns and a tail. That’s before the scent of scorched skin—her scorched skin—hit her, and before the pain of the brand downed her like a punch.

Her mother’s arm had borne the faintest trace of a similar brand. She’d passed it off as a drunken mistake from her youth. In her mother’s last days, as her life dwindled from her, Cryssa had confessed the marking’s meaning to Chiana.

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