Verena's Whistle: Varangian Descendants Book I by K. Panikian (essential reading txt) 📗

in extreme circumstances. Maybe, in the real world, we wouldn’t have anything in common.

“What’s your favorite kind of music?” I asked.

“Country,” he answered.

“Oh no,” I moaned. “We have nothing in common!”

He stroked my back with his gentle fingers. “We’re stubborn, we’re loyal—” he paused, “—we’re incredibly good-looking.”

I smiled at him but I said out loud, “I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.”

“What?” he said back. “You’re quoting at me from the movie, Speed?”

“It seemed appropriate,” I said back lamely.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked.

Gah. He was going to make me say it. I rolled over so we were face to face and I traced my fingertip across his full, soft lips. I met his beautiful, brown eyes with mine and said, “No.”

“Good,” he said. “Because it’s not what I think either.”

I smiled at him. “I’m in love with you. I want to be with you.” I felt relief that I’d said it. “You’ve been my rock through this whole thing. I don’t want to go anywhere now, where you’re not.”

He bent his head and kissed me gently. “I’ve thought about this. This isn’t some chemical combination of adrenaline and lust. I’m in love with you. You occupy my every waking thought. I want to be with you today, tomorrow, a year from now, a hundred years from now.” He paused to press his lips to mine again, this time harder. I arched under him.

“I want to be with you whether we’re working boring jobs and living in the suburbs or traveling around the world hunting down magical creatures. You’re it for me.”

“I feel the same,” I said back, my heart pounding in my chest. “We’ll figure the logistics out later. I want to be where you are.”

He continued to kiss me, his tongue making my insides swirl. “I think this calls for a celebration,” he murmured and then we got very, very busy celebrating.

Epilogue

Lord Abaddon was angry. Steam billowed from his nostrils and his hooves scraped the earth. Behind him, ranks and ranks of besy waited. Muted roars echoed and he heard aggressive hisses and the rustling sound of scales scraping. They were impatient and it took all of his magic to hold them in line.

They were lined up, row on row, in the forest. His psoglav scouts had gone ahead to find Orus and the camp in the other world. His commanders knew their orders. Chernobog himself blessed them in his black fire. They would march through this gate and then, a whole world without magical defenses would be theirs. No more Greek fire to decimate his ambitions.

The thought filled him with delicious urges.

Then, this balachko came back from the front line, and now everything was in disarray.

“Repeat yourself,” he bellowed.

At his feet the balachko knelt, his blue-gray skin paling, “It’s blocked. We can’t get through.”

“Blocked,” he mused. “With magic?”

“No, sire. With earth and rock. It appears that the gate is now underground.”

“Underground. There must have been an earth elemental on the other side. Impossible!”

Lord Abaddon felt a moment of hesitation in his god’s plan but quelled the thought. Chernobog was quick to punish doubt. This must be surmountable. He would find a way. His god had sworn it.

“Sire?” the balachko asked.

“If this gate is closed, we will find another. Give the order to march.”

Bonus: When Owen Met Very

Owen climbed out of the Uber and grabbed his duffel from the trunk. He and Julian had flown from Paris to Moscow, then Moscow to Chelyabinsk, and then taken the train from Chelyabinsk to Zlatoust, where they caught an Uber. His feet were swollen, his head hurt, and his mouth tasted like a dead moth.

Julian waved the Uber driver away and then led the way up the driveway to the chalet where his cousins were staying. Owen eyed the impressive house and wondered, not for the first time, what he was getting himself into. His father was adamant that this family was his too, and would want his help. But nothing he’d seen so far made Owen think this was actually true.

Julian knocked on the door and Owen heard a couple of thumps inside before the door opened and his heart stopped.

A woman stood there with vivid blue eyes, dark, glossy hair, and clear, pale skin. Her lips were pink and her cheeks flushed under his intense gaze. She was tall and slim and moved gracefully like an athlete; Owen didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful person.

She said something. Her voice echoed in his head, then his heart.

Her bottomless eyes assessed him and Owen knew that she saw everything he was and everything he could be. He stood straighter.

He followed her into the house and knew he would follow her forever.

About The Author

K. Panikian

K. Panikian lives in Massachusetts with her partner and three children. Aside from writing, Katie enjoys golf and snowboarding.

Check out her Instagram page at k.panikianthewriter for information on upcoming books! Next up in this series will be Astrid’s story.