Free Deep Kiss of Winter by Kresley Cole Page B

in the past.
    Eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-nine—
    “Kristoff wishes to see you,” a male said from behind him.
    He hastily disconnected the call, then cast a scowl over his shoulder. Lukyan, a Russian Forbearer, leaned negligently against the doorframe.
    Murdoch didn’t trust the former Cossack. Not bothering to hide his irritation, he said, “Can’t it wait?”
    “It’s about your brother. You’re to go to Blachmount.”
    “ What about him?”
    Lukyan’s expression was studiously blank. “He’s probably about to be executed.”
    TWELVE
    DANII HAD GOTTEN INTO VAL HALL UNDETECTED. Now I just have to get my things and get out.
    Although a couple dozen Valkyrie lived here at any time, the manor was quiet this morning. Most were nocturnal, as was Danii usually—it was cooler that way.
    Nïx, the one half sister she wanted to see, was nowhere to be found.
    Upstairs, Danii passed the most shaded chamber in Val Hall, belonging to Emmaline, her beloved niece. But she knew Emma would be asleep as well. It was day, and Emma was vampire. Or half one. No one knew who her vampire father was, and that information wasn’t likely forthcoming, since her Valkyrie mother had died of sorrow decades ago.
    Gentle Emma was the single vampire the Valkyrie accepted. Though a blood drinker, she was so timid that she made it easy to overlook the vampirism.
    Emma was the exception; Murdoch was the rule. Just accept it. He almost bit you. . . .
    Danii reached her room, which was basically a giant freezer, and pushed open the heavy insulated door. A blast of arctic air and the comforting drone of refrigeration met her.
    She lived at Val Hall year -round. But in the summer, even the meat locker —as her sisters called her room—was barely adequate for her needs.
    There simply was no call for hundred-degree days.
    Closing the door behind her, she gazed around the spacious area. She’d decorated it with frost, glazing the walls with it. Icicles dripped from the blades of the ceiling fan. Valances of ice capped her windows.
    She couldn’t say she loved it here, but she’d adapted to life with her coven. Others could tolerate hours in the snow, but would seek a hearth at the end of the day. Danii was the same way with heat, except she sought the comfort of her meat locker.
    Her slushy waterbed was filled with saltwater, which lowered the freezing point to below thirty-two degrees. Above her bathtub was an ice maker, and beside it hung an Epsom salt dispenser. On occasion, she had to add salt to the water so that she didn’t freeze it.
    Her ice-proofed computer was a military-spec laptop with a magnesium chassis and a sealed keyboard.
    Yes, she’d adapted. And she’d felt some security living in such a warm climate. I thought I was safe from Sigmund here . It should’ve been the last place the Icere would look.
    The attack was another reason Danii was avoiding her sisters. If she told them about last night, they would insist on her staying—
    and them fighting. But the Icere were an enemy the Valkyrie didn’t need.
    And one they could never find to defeat.
    When Danii had been a girl of seven, her mother Svana had journeyed to Icergard, the Icere castle, to reclaim her crown from the vicious Sigmund. Danii’s memories of this time were indistinct after the passage of so many years, but she remembered her mother saying, “If I don’t return to you here, you must promise me, love, never to follow me. Never, never go to Icergard.” She’d made Danii vow it.

    Svana had never returned. Before she’d even made it to the castle, Sigmund had assassinated her—the mother who’d refused to linger endlessly in peace with her young daughter in the godplane of Valhalla.
    Once Danii had grown old enough to leave Valhalla herself, he’d dispatched killers after her to prevent her from ever challenging his reign. As if she ever would.
    Over the centuries, she’d considered breaking her vow to her mother, but only to gather her sisters and