Free Deep Kiss of Winter by Kresley Cole

he’d agreed to drop her near home. At least, she’d translated that as an agreement. Before he could argue—that would just get untidy—she’d clambered into the cab. The one without air-conditioning that reeked of taxidermy and Levi Garrett tobacco.
    If Valkyrie ate, Danii would be vomiting right now.
    All because of that vampire. The only thing getting her through this ordeal was the belief that Murdoch would regret what he’d done.
    And the fact that she’d left him a special number for when he returned.
    The second he’d vanished, she’d rushed to the mill’s garage, agreeing that she needed to leave, stat. Rule to live by: If a vampire warns you he’s coming back to attack and possibly kill you, then you listen.
    Inside, she’d found a classic Porsche, refurbished and lovely, with a new Maserati Spyder beside it. She’d been eager to steal and trash either one, already planning to return the vehicle with a UV bulb in the overhead light. But she couldn’t find the keys.
    She’d tried to call for help on his sat-phone, but the service was code-locked.
    Rather than stay and wait like an unwitting bag of O positive, she’d scribbled her note and set out in her bloody boots, wearing damp underwear, the vamp’s T-shirt, and a cloak of rage that only a two-thousand-year-old Valkyrie could pull off.
    For so long, those in the Lore had noted the differences between Danii and her sisters—including Danii. But in truth, she had just as many Valkyrie traits as she had Icere.
    Most notably, Danii possessed the Valkyrie’s notorious pride and need for retribution. Like her sisters, if she was wronged, then gods help the subject of her wrath.
    I’ve so been wronged. By the first vampire in history not to want his Bride. She didn’t know if that said something about him—or about her. If anyone found out she’d been cast away by a Forbearer, she would never live it down. Her only hope was that no one ever discovered her disgraceful morning.
    To add insult to injury, she’d also remembered him interrogating her. While she’d been filled with poison, he’d been filled with questions.
    Her supposed white knight had taken advantage of her, and she couldn’t recall how much she’d toldhim. Surely she hadn’t revealed any critical secrets or weaknesses . . . .
    Stop thinking about him. You have things to do. Like fleeing the city.
    Since none of the assassins from last night would be reporting back, King Sigmund would soon send another Icere contingent. He wouldn’t stop until he’d killed her.
    Just as he’d murdered the true queen of the Iceren, Svana the Great, Danii’s mother.
    Danii had to get home and pack, but she grew weary merely thinking about returning to Val Hall, weak and shamed, a vampire informer. Via Farmer Ted. How could she face her sisters now?
    Myst was still getting razzed for hooking up with Nikolai five years ago, even by other Lore factions. Having the aggressively omnisexual nymphs ridicule one’s choice of lover was about as low as one could get. Mysty the Vampire Layer was the butt of many a joke.
    Who was worse? Myst, who’d dabbled with a vampire, or Danii, who’d dabbled and had desperately wanted more?
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    Murdoch dreamed.
    Sometimes he dreamed of the sun, sometimes of old battles. Now he dreamed of his father, of walking in on him wet-eyed, clutching a portrait of Murdoch’s mother on the fifth anniversary of her death.
    Murdoch had loved his mother, though she’dbeen zealously religious, and he’d grieved her loss, but his father had been left a broken shell of a man.
    At first, Murdoch had pitied him. Then he’d scorned the father who had scant time for his family, who’d all but orphaned his four young daughters with his neglect.
    By this time, Murdoch had been enjoying women for years, knew