CHAPTER ONE

She didn’t know what woke her up.

The lightning and thunder crashing outside the bedroom window? A rare thing in the beginning of an L.A. summer; so maybe. Or the fact that she was in a strange bed? Or the fact that she was naked in a strange bed?

Or maybe it was the squeak of the bedroom door as it was eased open.

After more than a decade as a United States Marine, Kera didn’t sleep deeply like she used to when she was a kid. She’d done her tours in the Middle East, and being prepared for anything had become a permanent part of her DNA. But it hadn’t just been the enemy she’d had to watch out for. Sometimes, sadly, she’d been forced to protect herself from other Marines. Males who should have known better.

But she’d stupidly left all that behind more than eighteen months ago. Now she worked in a coffeehouse. She made overpriced coffee and sold overpriced baked goods to people who didn’t think they could get through the day without their caffeine fix.

So then where the hell was she?

At the moment, Kera didn’t know. She couldn’t remember anything past taking out the trash from the coffeehouse because none of the wannabe actors and models and singers she worked with would get off their lazy asses and do it themselves. So Kera had done it. And then . . . and then . . . ?

Someone leaned in close. Too close. It was a man. She didn’t like men she didn’t know being this close to her. It brought back uncomfortable memories. It made her muscles twitch and the hair on the back of her neck rise up in protest.

Kera could wait to see if he just went away, but “waiting to see” had never been one of her strong suits.

He didn’t touch her, but he leaned in a little more. Like he was trying to see her face.

“Must be a new girl,” he muttered.

“Snorri!” someone said from out in the hall. “Get moving! We’re running out of time!”

Running out of time for what? And who the hell named their kid “Snorri”? Was this some kind of home invasion? And what home was Kera in? She tried to remember . . . something. But her brain felt strangely hazy. Like a piece of cheesecloth was covering it, preventing her from seeing clearly.

That wasn’t like her. She was known for her excellent memory and ability to quickly analyze and adjust accordingly.

God, how she missed the Marines. It hadn’t been an easy life. Actually, it had been hard. Hard, but rewarding.

You’re dying.

No, she wasn’t. Kera wasn’t dying.

You’re on your last breath. So you have a choice to make.

Oh God. That’s what she had said to Kera. The veiled woman standing by that big tree. She’d been tall and covered from head to foot in a sheer veil that still managed to hide everything. There’d been something about the woman, too. Something thatradiated strength and intelligence . . . and power.

God, who was that woman? What was her name? What was her—

My name is Skuld. And I’m offering you a chance at a second life. Will you take it? Will you join us?

And Kera’s reply had been . . . Under one condition.

Under one condition? What condition? What condition had Kera insisted upon? She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?

The man glanced back at the partially opened door but whoever had spoken to him was gone.

“Demanding cow,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Always ordering me around. I’ll do what I want.”

He turned back to Kera and that’s when they both heard it. The low growl coming from beside Kera, the big body lifting off the bed and easing over her to viciously snarl at the man so close.

Kera couldn’t say she physically recognized the animal giving the man a warning growl on Kera’s behalf. But she still knew her. How could she not? They’d been together since the day Kera had rescued the creature. But she’d looked different then. A poor abused pit bull, missing part of her muzzle and most of her teeth. A fifty-pound female used for breeding and then left to rot tied to a truck motor near some warehouse in Kera’s neighborhood.

But that wasn’t the same dog now looming over Kera, and yet . . . it was. It was Brodie. Kera’s precious dog that she’d . . . that she’d . . .

“On one condition,” she’d told the veiled woman. “I have to bring my dog.”

Fathomless eyes had frowned at her over the veil. “What?”

“I’ll take your offer . . . but only if I can bring my dog. No dog, no deal.”

“You’re serious? You’re willing to give up your chance at a second life for a dog?”

“I won’t go without Brodie.”

Folding her arms over her chest, the woman had held what looked like a watering can . . . which seemed, to put it mildly, weird.

“You do know,” the woman asked Kera, “that you’re standing in front of me with a knife sticking out of your chest? Right? I send you back now, like this, and it’s over. No second life. No feasting at Valhalla. No Ragnarok. You do understand that, right?”

“Not really. I don’t know what Valhalla and Ragnarok have to do with anything. What I do know is that I don’t go anywhere without Brodie. I’m not leaving her. She comes with me or I don’t go. It’s that simple.”

“You’d give up everything I’m offering you for a dog?”

“She was there for me when no one else was. I won’t leave her.”

The woman leaned back a bit. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.”