Valhalla Virus Read online

  Table of Contents

  Summary

  Black Forge Books Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  The Adventure Continues!

  Books by Black Forge

  Books by Shadow Alley Press

  GameLit, Harem, and Cultivation on Facebook

  LitRPG on Facebook

  Even More LitRPG on Facebook

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Summary

  THE END OF THE WORLD is coming, and Las Vegas has a front row seat.

  Gunnar Rake came to Vegas for what should have been his easiest job in years: bodyguard an old flame for three days. But when a weaponized virus transforms half of Sin City into monsters out of a Viking nightmare, his cushy job becomes a desperate rescue mission.

  And that’s all before Viking gods show up and things really get out of hand.

  Valhalla Virus is the first book in the wild new Ragnarok Rebels series, featuring over-the-top action, a harem of deadly and beautiful witches, and enough monsters and magic to choke Jörmungandr.

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  Chapter 1

  GUNNAR EASED THE SUITE’S door open, one hand on the H&K P30L in the no-print holster behind his right hip and pocketed the key card he’d used. The bodyguard had hauled ass from LA to Vegas, his battered Indian Chieftain screaming for mercy the whole way, after Rayleigh had broken her five-year silence with a simple text message.

  Need some quiet time. Overlooking the fountains. There’s a key at the desk.

  The coded message had jumpstarted Gunnar’s heart and sent him racing out the door. The quiet time reference told him not to contact her by phone. Overlooking the fountains was a reminder of the nights they’d spent in Vegas, holed up in Caesar’s Augustus Tower. Between bottles of whiskey and vigorous intimate interludes, they’d watched the Bellagio’s water show through the floor-to-ceiling windows in their suite more times than Gunnar could count.

  But that was before Arthur’s bullshit lie about corporate espionage had banished Gunnar to a life of crime. He hadn’t heard from Ray in the half a decade since, and that fact, combined with the code, had Gunnar’s instincts on high alert as he stepped into the suite. He stifled a road-dust sneeze and scanned the room with wary eyes.

  The only light came through the gigantic windows overlooking the fountain, and the only person Gunnar saw was most definitely not a threat. He pulled the door’s privacy lock into place and relaxed, just a little.

  Ray stood in front of the window overlooking the Bellagio’s fountains, raven-black hair cascading down her back to her dangerously curved hips. She’d pulled the sheer privacy curtains into her arms, and the gossamer fabric spread out to either side of her like a pair of wings. Lights from the street below outlined her in a golden halo. “This is a hell of a view,” she said.

  “It certainly is from where I’m standing,” Gunnar said as he let his hand fall away from the pistol. The years since he’d last seen Rayleigh in his bike’s rearview mirror seemed to evaporate. It was as if no time had passed at all. “You’re a hell of a sight for sore eyes.”

  Ray was on the short side, especially when compared to Gunnar’s towering frame, but she was far from dainty. A stretchy black skirt hugged the swell of her hips, and her curvy legs disappeared into a pair of chunky engineer’s boots. Gunnar recognized those from the times she’d hopped on the back of his bike. She’d worn the same clothes their last night together in Vegas. Past and present blurred in a kaleidoscope of carnal memories.

  As battered and bruised as the desert motorcycle ride had left him, the sight of Ray bathed in that golden light had every part of the bodyguard standing at attention.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, her voice sounding a little choked and hoarse. The light shifted around her as jets of water crashed down into the Bellagio’s basin with the sound of distant thunder. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  Gunnar shrugged out of his dusty jacket and draped it over the chair sitting in front of the fancy desk parked against the suite’s wall.

  “All you had to do was ask,” Gunnar said. “It sure would be nice to know why you asked, though.”

  Ray leaned her forehead against the window and tapped her nails against the glass. When she spoke, her voice was faint and a little shaky. “Not yet. Soon. But not yet.”

  Gunnar wanted to sweep her into his arms but held back. The light made Ray look like a ghost who’d vanish at the first touch. Instead, he took a seat on the king-size bed, unzipped his boots, and shucked them off along with his socks. He curled his toes into the carpet, making fists with his feet. God, that felt good. He blinked hard, his tired eyes burning from hours of staring at blacktop in the white light of his bike’s headlight. When he opened them again, Rayleigh’s curves demanded their full attention.

  The bodyguard watched his old flame watching the fountains, her hips swaying to the muted music from outside, until the last splash of water faded away and the lights dimmed. Without a word, Ray turned to face Gunnar and stepped out of the curtains. The filmy fabric drifted behind her for a moment, like wisps of trailing fog, then settled against the glass.

  She stopped at the end of the bed, hands on her hips, eyes smoldering. Her skirt struggled to keep a grip on her curves, and her tube top had nearly lost the battle to contain the full mounds of her breasts. A faint pink flush spread across the exposed slopes of Ray’s chest and climbed up her smooth throat to highlight her full cheeks.

  The bodyguard ached for Ray with every fiber of his being. The sight of her, close enough to touch, banished all the doubts and worries he’d wrestled with since her text message had come through earlier in the day. Gunnar didn’t care about the time they’d lost. He didn’t give a shit that Cal Corso, the local crime boss, would happily cut off his head for stepping foot in Vegas after their falling out last year. The bodyguard didn’t even care that Ray had reached out to him because she needed protection.

  None of that meant a damned thing next to the crackling heat he felt just looking at the woman standing before him. They’d iron out the details.

  Later.

  His long arms hooked around Ray’s waist and pulled her close. The bodyguard was nearly as tall sitting down as Ray was standing up, even in her thick-soled boots. He drank in the sight of her as his hands settled on the curves of her hips. Her eyes were like jade pools, her full lips painted the deep, jewel-tone red of pomegranate seeds. She smelled like honey and vanilla wrapped in a caramel haze, a rich and decadent scent that flooded Gunnar’s thoughts with memories of their time together under the desert moon. Those six months were burned into his brain, a kaleidoscope of working hard and playing harder, two kids as high on each other as the jugs of honeysuckle wine they’d downed.

  “It’s been too long,” she whispered.

  Gunnar pulled her to his chest, crushing their time apart.
His left hand traced the silky curves of Ray’s lower back; his right held her tight. The skin-to-skin contact drove a spike through Gunnar’s heart. He needed this woman like he’d never needed anyone else. He brushed his lips across hers and inhaled the intoxicating swirl of her perfume and breath. Ray’s sweet smell kick-started his desire, and Gunnar lost himself. His tongue darted between the soft pillows of her lips, a teasing flicker, before he kissed her long and deep. He was burning up, his desire a raging fever.

  Ray’s arms tightened around his neck. She sucked his tongue deep into her mouth and squirmed against him. Finally, she pulled back to gasp for breath. Spots of heat danced on her cheeks, and her pupils became yawning black holes as she stared hungrily at Gunnar. She licked her lips and hesitated, as if she had something to say, then cradled his face in her hands.

  “We don’t have to,” he started. “I don’t expect anything for helping you, if that’s what—”

  Ray put a finger to Gunnar’s lips and shook her head. The silky strands of her hair hissed across her bare shoulders. “I’ve wanted this for five years,” she whispered. “Shut up and do me already.”

  Gunnar leaned in, and the world vanished in a whirlwind of burning passion. He lost himself in the scorching kisses, reveled in the warmth of Ray’s sun-bronzed skin, and marveled at the wet, hot, depths of the hunger they shared. Ray’s skirt rucked up into a wrinkled black band above her hips as he pulled her up to straddle his lap. A quick tug freed her from the flimsy tube top and revealed milky-white triangles in stark contrast to her suntanned skin and the stiff, pink tips of her nipples. A memory of their first meeting, Ray laying out on her lab coat in the middle of the desert, her glistening bronze body covered only by the smallest of bikinis, staring at him over a pair of aviator shades, rushed back to him. She had the same look in her eyes now, wanton and eager.

  “Too many clothes,” he grumbled and peeled his shirt off, raining road grit onto the pillows behind him. He reached for his zipper, and Ray slapped his hands away.

  “Nobody unwraps my presents but me,” she said with a feral grin. She pressed her palms flat against Gunnar’s chest, then curled her fingers until the dagger-like red points dimpled his skin. She kneaded him like a cat, her nails moving in a smooth rhythm as her hands glided down his body to his abdomen, then lower to the waistband of his jeans. Ray rocked against him, rubbing against his length through his jeans, her eyes half lidded, her breath short, sharp gasps.

  Gunnar reached up to tease the swollen buds of her nipples, rolling them between his index fingers and thumbs. When Ray’s rocking became more feverish, he tugged on the sensitive nubs and raised his hips to meet her. His breath caught in his throat when Ray leaned forward, her long black hair dangling down in sleek curtains on either side of his face. In that moment, they were alone in the space between desperate breaths, their gazes fused as their bodies moved together.

  Ray rose onto her knees and yanked the top button of Gunnar’s jeans loose. She ripped the zipper down with a rasping hiss and pulled him free of his clothes. Her fingers closed around his length, squeezing. She licked her lips, and a shiver ran through her body. She eased forward, one hand next to Gunnar’s head as the other pulled him toward the dripping heat between her thighs. She rubbed herself down his length, moaning softly as she glided back and forth, coating Gunnar with her slippery heat. She held him, poised at her opening, eyes fever bright. “Goddamn but I missed you.”

  Gunnar lifted his hips to meet Ray. They crashed together again and again, grinding their bodies against one another with desperate need. Gunnar groaned and clutched Ray’s hips as she rose and fell onto him. They moved together with practiced ease, every motion stoking the fires of their mutual lust until the room echoed with their fierce cries. Ray leaned back as Gunnar thrust up into her, hands cupping her breasts, head thrown back to let her guttural moans crash into the ceiling. The bodyguard pounded into her, burying himself in her greedy body, relishing the delicious friction of her muscles contracting around him in one powerful spasm after another.

  Ray cried out and collapsed against him, her body quaking with animal delight as waves of pleasure gushed through her. She buried her face in the side of his neck, sucking at his salty skin, murmuring encouragement as he thrust into her again and again. Her fingers tangled in his hair and clutched his shoulder as she cried out again, her muscles quivering.

  Gunnar sat up, then stood, lifting Ray off the bed with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her body instinctively pulling him tighter, deeper into her, as he turned and laid her back against the rumpled sheets. His hands cupped her ass, lifting it up to meet his powerful thrusts. He held out, hovering at the edge of his control, unwilling to let the moment end. He wanted to stay with Ray forever, just the two of them chasing a spiral of pleasure that went higher and higher.

  Her hands curled into the sheets, twisting them into wrinkled knots. She bit her lip, her eyes closed, moans escaping from her with every thrust. Beads of sweat trickled down the slopes of her breasts. Her pulse hammered in her throat, flushing her cheeks and chest a deep crimson.

  Gunnar fell into her, his control evaporating when she clenched around him. He shuddered with every thrust, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pumped into her. Gunnar held tight to her as the violent pleasure gave way to a sleepy afterglow that surrounded them both.

  LATER, AFTER A LONG shower that led to more of a mess and another shower after that, they finally collapsed on the bed, their damp bodies sprawled out. The blackout curtains were open to let the city’s light paint dappled reflections from the Bellagio’s fountains on the ceiling. Gunnar watched the shifting sparkles of light, his mind drifting back to the big cargo ship, the muffled cries echoing inside a metal container. He’d been there on Cal Corso’s orders. All he had to do was keep an eye on the big ship until morning, when another security team would show up and the boat would head out for ports unknown. It was a simple job with a big payday.

  But, as Gunnar’s father always said, Gunnar couldn’t stop himself from helping other people, even if it fucked him up.

  The cries he’d heard had belonged to women.

  No, that wasn’t right.

  Girls.

  Against his better judgment, Gunnar had wrenched the cargo container open and found a baker’s dozen of teenaged girls, skinny to the point of emaciation, their hair dyed a uniform platinum blond. They all wore long, stained T-shirts. Those girls had looked at Gunnar with the wide, helpless eyes of lambs on their way to the slaughter. One phone call had seen those girls headed for a shelter instead of a billionaire pedophiles private island.

  That little screw-up had cost Cal Corso a few million dollars on the front end, and untold riches on the back end. The gang boss had spread the word far and wide. If Gunnar showed his face in Vegas again, there was a cool million for anyone who brought Cal his head. The bodyguard had kept the peace for months by staying well clear of the city. Until...

  “You haven’t asked,” Ray whispered. Her head lay on his chest, black hair fanned out across the bed like a cast-off hood.

  Gunnar ran his hand through her hair, letting the silky threads tumble between his fingers. “About?”

  Ray traced circles on his thigh with the nail of her index finger. “Why I called you after all this time.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Gunnar said.

  That was the truth. He’d never wanted to leave Ray, but life had thrown them a nasty curveball that forced his hand. Gunnar had vanished to save Ray, even though it had damn near killed him. There’d been a thousand times since when he’d dialed her number to explain, only to cancel the call. He’d been afraid she’d hated him. Worse, he believed he deserved all the anger she could pile on his head. It had been safer, easier, to just let her go.

  But when she’d reached out to him, that changed everything. He would have crawled from LA to Vegas on a highway of broken glass and pissed-off rattlesnakes to help Ray if she asked.

  “It does t
o me,” Ray whispered, her voice low and slightly hoarse. She kissed the arc of his ribs and rested her hand on his belly, fingers splayed around his navel. “Kyrolina got up to some bad shit after you left, babe. Viruses, genetic memories, some really, really bonkers stuff. I thought it was just...I don’t know. Like a crazy Elon Musk pipe dream. Shit billionaires dream up to save the world. Or ruin it.”

  A chill crept into Gunnar’s blood. He’d heard whispers of some lab in the desert snatching homeless people off the street. But the same whispers had carried crazy stories about Area 51, lizard people running the government, and a particularly batshit theory that the Luxor was a powerful ritual site for some weirdo Viking blood cult. People who lived on the outer edges of society—criminals, the homeless, gamblers, and celebrities, to name a few—harbored some weird fucking ideas about how the world worked. He hadn’t believed any of it was true.

  Hearing Ray confirm the tip of the iceberg had him holding his breath waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to tell somebody what Kyrolina had planned,” she went on. “I have a meeting on Monday with a guy from the Department of Homeland Security.”

  Gunnar tensed at her words. He had no love for YmirRe, but he had even less for the government. He was one of the bad guys, at least according to the police, FBI, and everyone else tasked with upholding the law of the land. The idea of going to DHS filled him with a deep and abiding dread. “That’s why you wanted me here. To keep an eye on the meet. Make sure they don’t snatch you up in a white panel van and disappear your sweet ass.”

  Ray propped herself up on one elbow to look him in the eye. “I wanted you here because I was scared and—”

  She sat up and stared down at him, her cheeks flushed, her mouth a thin, angry line. “I never wanted you to leave.”

  “I know,” Gunnar said. He rested his hand on her thigh and tried to find the words to make things right. “That’s why I left. I did it to make things easier for you.