The Alpha’s Forbidden Valkyrie

Chapter 8

Jax’s POV

I watched silently from the corner as the girl reached for the food. The room was dark; only the dim light of the bedside lamp illuminated her pale face and messy, dirty blonde hair.

When she reached for the fork, her hand shook so violently that the silverware clinked loudly against the porcelain plate. She tried to lift a bite of meat, but her wrist, rubbed raw and bloody by the chains in the cellar, simply gave out. The fork slipped from her fingers and fell back onto the tray.

Freya hissed quietly in frustration. She closed her eyes and tried to draw strength from nothing.

My chest tightened. My inner wolf anxiously scratched at the walls of my mind and snarled at me in anger. Help her! Feed our mate! the beast roared. Every instinct that drives an Alpha to protect his pack and his mate told me to go over there, take the fork from her, and feed her myself until she got her strength back.

Against my will, a deep, painful pity tore through me. My pride and my entire worldview were cracking. There, sitting on my bed, was a girl my whole being burned for, and she was so weak she couldn't even lift a bite of food to her mouth—because I had starved her for three days.

I clenched my jaw until it ached and dug my fingers into the armrest. I stayed in my place. As much as I wanted to help her, my Alpha self stubbornly stuck to our deal. I had to hear the truth first. I needed to know who I was giving my pack's protection to before completely surrendering myself to this damn bond.

Freya took a shaky breath and tried again. This time, using both hands, she slowly and awkwardly gripped the glass and lifted it to her mouth. She drank a few sips of water, which seemed to instantly breathe life into her. Then, she grabbed a small piece of meat with her hand. She chewed slowly and carefully, as if her stomach had forgotten how to handle solid food.

After a few bites, her color started to return. Her eyes became clearer, and the shaking subsided a bit. Finally, she pushed the tray away. It was obvious she couldn't eat anymore.

She looked up, straight into my eyes. Those green irises, with a strange golden spark hiding in their depths, weren't defiant now; they were just endlessly tired.

"My father was a pureblood vampire," she began quietly, her voice still hoarse from dehydration. "He came from one of the most ruthless, influential families in our clan. He was cruel, cold, and proud. To them, the purity of the bloodline is more important than anything."

I tensed in the chair, listening to words that led straight back into my worst nightmares. But I didn't interrupt.

"Then... my father met someone," Freya continued, instinctively touching her pointed ear, which she had tried so desperately to hide from me until now. "My mother. She didn't belong to our world. She wasn't a creature of darkness. She was a descendant of an ancient, celestial warrior bloodline. A Valkyrie."

Valkyrie. The word rang out alien, yet with immense power in the dark room. For a moment, there was absolute chaos in my head. Valkyries were figures from Norse legends. Goddesses of death and glory, angels of the battlefields who choose the heroes. Light and honor. How could such a creature get mixed up with a murderous bloodsucker?

"The clan discovered their secret. Our leader had my mother brutally executed," the girl whispered, staring into nothingness as the pain of the past washed over her face. "And my father... he was too much of a coward to protect her. Instead, he took me into the clan and hid my heritage. He hoped my vampire blood would suppress the other half, and I would just be a normal vampire. He taught me everything our kind needed to know. But as I grew, my mother's blood... my Valkyrie side started to show."

Freya smiled sadly, but the smile didn't even touch her eyes.

"My ears grew pointed. My eye color changed. But the worst part wasn't my appearance, Jax. The worst part was my soul."

She looked at me, and such purity burned in her green eyes that my throat tightened.

"Vampires are predators. Their lives are about destruction and human blood. But Valkyries... Valkyries are guardians of souls. To them, human life is sacred. When my time came, and my father pushed a human in front of me to drink from... my body rebelled. My mother's blood inside me physically rejected the thought of murder. When I smelled human blood, I didn't feel hunger; I felt raw, nauseating disgust."

I remembered what had happened in the cellar. How she almost threw up at the sight of the fresh blood bag. My stomach clamped in guilt.

"To the clan, I became the greatest disgrace," Freya said, her voice trembling as the weight of the memories pressed down on her. "A predator incapable of hunting. A mutt who eats human food and keeps her vampire half alive with animal blood, all while making a mockery of their pure bloodline. My father turned his back on me. For years they tormented me, trying to 'beat' the weakness out of me."

A teardrop rolled down her pale face, but she wiped it away angrily with the back of her hand.

"When they realized I would never change, and that the Valkyrie magic was beginning to awaken in me... the clan leader ordered my execution. My own father let them throw me to their dogs. I was only able to escape because my Valkyrie half made me faster than them. That's how I ran into your territory, Jax. From certain death, straight into your claws."

She finished. The room fell silent again, but this silence was different now. There was no hatred in it.

I slowly stood up from the chair. The storm raging in my chest died down, replaced by something much older and much deeper. The beast inside me finally calmed down, because it got its validation. The girl fate had meant for me wasn't a murderous monster. She was a survivor. An innocent warrior, betrayed by her own kind for her goodness.

The hatred I had harbored toward vampires for the past years finally detached from Freya. She was no longer my enemy.

I stepped over to the bed. Freya flinched, waiting for my reaction; maybe she thought I would laugh at her or wouldn't believe her. Instead, I slowly crouched down next to the bed so I was at eye level with her. I reached out my hand and carefully, with the utmost respect, took hold of her trembling, raw wrist.

When our skin touched, the spark was no longer painful and scorching. It was warm and safe.