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Unable to shake the image of roaches scattering in every direction when the lights had been turned on wherever they were trying to infest, Hopper headed straight for the one who had just a few moments ago been Hel’s sister.

He’d seen firsthand that sibling rivalry could be a bitch, but Einn had taken things to a whole new level–and the best he could tell, none of her beef was actually with Hel.

It was time to knock her back down to her normal size and put her in a very long time out.

“Damn, Dide,” Pat’s chuckle floated through his mind. “If I’d known gettin’ you with your Mate would turn you into a bad boy, I’d have been helping Desi and Faye all along.”

“That’s enough outta you, Pat,” Hel answered her first. “Leave my man alone. Don’t make me sic the Fires of Helheim or the Icy winds of Niflheim on you.”

“I bow,” Pat chuckled. “I bow.”

For the hundredth time since he’d arrive on the island, Hopper had one thought– damn, Hel is absolutely perfect – and he was having it again.

Making beeline for Scrub, he knew his Mate was at his side.

The feeling that he was in step with the woman made for him by his Auntie Universe almost gave him wings.

It was simply more wonderful than he’d ever imagined, and it didn’t even matter that they were in battle for their lives and the lives of their friends.

It also didn’t stop him from listening as Hel instructed, “You go low. I’ll go high with the Raven Guardsmen,” when they were less than a hundred yards from Scrub.

Keeping his chuckle to himself because he’d picked up on Hel’s surprise when the Ravens that had been flitting around her garden for centuries Shifted into the Legendary Raven Guardsmen who’d been absent from Odin’s side for untold centuries.

He thought about teasing her by saying, “Looks like everybody who’s anybody in Helheim has a secret,” but decided there’d be time for that after they’d dispatched Scrub and had gotten to know each other a little more intimately.

Returning his focus to the task at hand, Hopper trusted his Mate’s prowess in battle over his inexperience and cut to the right, knowing that Scrub was more focused on Hel than he.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the four Raven Guardsmen making their move and had to work hard not to stop and gawk.

Opening their arms wide, wings appeared an instant before they took flight.

Using a bit of his preternatural ability to divide his focus, Hope watched as they flew higher and higher.

Turning around just under the lowest layer of fluffy white clouds, he heard the Leader, Rekkr say, “We await your command, Goddess,” before his Mate lifted her blade and ran straight for Scrub.

Struggling to stay parallel with Hel, trying to remember the last time he’d actually so much as jogged; Hopper was amazed at the orchestrated chaos in every direction.

No matter how hard Scrub’s troops tried to gain the upper hand with their utter craziness and clacking claws, the Amazonian Clans along with Garmr and Hel’s Army were quicker and more fierce, anticipating the insects’ moves before they could execute them.

Bits and pieces of creepy-crawly went one way and the other, the glittering silvery scales catching the setting sun before hitting the ground and exploding into a foul-smelling gas.

Then he realized something the others had apparently already figured out.

From every piece of insect and every puff of noxious gas, another Scrub soldier was born.

Full sized and ready to fight. That damn Scrub had created a regenerating force of fighters.

“Now, that shit is just not fair.”

“Oh, just wait, Elskan mín. Never underestimate the power of an Undead Army.”

Not only was Hopper floating on air that Hel had once again spoken directly into his mind, but the fact that she had called him ‘my love’ in the language of the Northmen had his heart doing a silly little pitter pat that he was sure was supposed to be reserved for human teenagers experiencing their first flash of infatuation.

But he didn’t care. He was in love and soon enough the whole world would know.

Getting as far as, “And you are…” Hopper swallowed the words he was about to think as he witnessed firsthand what Hel meant by the ‘power of an Undead Army’.

With every slash of the jagged edge of a Scrub soldier’s claw or clamp of its pincher, the members of Hel’s Army grew broader, stronger, and infinitely more muscular.

His Mate had imbued those loyal to her with the ability to regenerate, to throw off the vestiges and frailty of death and once again be vital and formidable.

He really had thought of it all. She’d anticipated what an enemy could not overcome and equipped the souls who inhabited Helheim with better, sounder abilities.

He needed to tell her how proud he was of her. Hel needed to know how special she was, how much she meant to him. She had to understand that not just this moment in time, but during every moment of his life since she’d been born, he’d thought of only her.

But all that would have to wait. Checking on those he would always feel responsible for, Hopper first saw Empress Scathach. Never one to be underestimated, born and bred to be the Leader of Leaders, the Empress of Shadows was showcasing her unique Gifts in all the right ways.

With every thrust, parry, and strike of her spear, dark, thick shadows fell over the enemy.

Instantly dazed and confused, they were so lost and perplexed, unable to see the claws in front of their small, black, compound eyes that they ended up fighting one another–and in doing so negated the regenerative abilities Scrub had spliced into them.

It was a brilliant move. The Empress was a true Warrior in every sense of the word, and the same was true of the other Amazonian Leaders.

Gaze flying to Queen Doirean, Hopper wasn’t surprised to see the Lightning Queen of the Amazon lighting up the skies.

With every pull of her bowstring and from every poisoned tip arrow that she and her Clanswomen shot into the air, bolts of lightning struck the enemy, set them ablaze, and left a smoldering pile of ash that did not revive.

Then there was Princess Isolde and she and her Clan did not disappoint. Shooting from the tips of every sword were long, pointed, dagger-like icicles. Piercing the black hearts of every mini-Scrub in their path, the Amazons refused to be beaten.

Amidst the fray, taking all comers and leaving none standing were Pat, Liv, and Dade. Not only was Pat a much better swordsman than Hopper ever hoped to be, he and Liv were so coordinated that Hopper had to wonder if there was a deeper connection he’d missed.

Ready to ask that very question, he stopped when He’s shout of “Go low, Hopper!” shot through his mind. Refocusing him on the task at hand, something he always needed, her voice and her voice alone was all it took. Then she added, “Slide, Minn Félagi! Slide!”

Once again, Hopper was blown away when Hel spoke the old Norse language, calling him ‘my Mate’. He would have done anything, followed her anywhere , and would always do everything in his considerable power to be anything she needed whenever and wherever that need arose.

Pulling the image of exactly what she wanted him to do from her mind, Hopper reached into the ether, wrapped his fingers around the jeweled grip of the diamond-bladed Sword of Hope he’d been given by the Big Four on the day he was breathed into existence, and brought it into view.

Thrusting the tip forward, he ran as fast as he could, dug the heels of his boots into the soft earth and slid toward the backward-bending knees of the ten-foot bug.

Slashing the tendons at precisely the same moment that Hel drove the bone blade of her Nightsword into Scrub’s chest, he wasn’t surprised that the beastly creepy crawler didn’t fall, but that didn’t mean he would give up.

Oh, hell no! He would fight until the bitter end to ensure his Mate’s safety.

Scrub was one beasty that was going back where she belonged come hell or highwater.

Assaulting and stabbing with wild abandon, Hopper cut away at Scrub’s outer scales with laser precision.

Digging with the tip of his blade, he severed every tendon and joint in sight but still there were more.

Fighting the constant regeneration with every ounce of Magic flowing through his veins, he refused to stop…

refused to be beaten… refused to let his Mate down in any way.

Head flying up and eyes locking onto the Warrior Dragoness as the thud of her massive paws shook the ground, he watched in awe as she turned a complete circle, mowing down a hundred or so mini Scrubs as the ice and flames of Helheim shot of the tip of her blade and her Army of the Dead continued to cut through the enemy with keen precision.

“Form the perimeter!” Hel’s order was loud and clear. It took no time at all before the Raven Guardsmen dropped from the sky. Forming a diamond shape around their goddess and Scrub, they turned their backs to the two combatants and took on all the mini Scrubs who dared to attack.

Hel may not have known her beloved Ravens were the renowned Protectors of the Realms, but she’d quickly adapted and became their Leader as if she was born to the position.

And who knew, maybe she was. If Hopper knew anything, it was that his Mate was a woman of many talents, most of which she’d yet to realize herself.

Still unable to access the full strength and magnitude of his Enchantment, Hopper was just about to ask Hel if she felt the odd vibrations coming from Scrub’s underside when his Mate yelled, “Back off, Elskan mín!”