The Game of Gods: Series Box Set

by Lana Pecherczyk

  With his strength surrounding me on all sides, my inner walls crumbled. I wept in his arms and he didn’t let go. He had no idea how much I needed this contact. The touch. His confidence in me. I pulled him to me as tightly as I could. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. I needed more of him. The heat of his body not only soothed my cold bones, but connected with a part of my soul. That recognition glimmered between us, beckoning, enticing. More. Two halves of a whole, he’d once said. Soulmates. In that moment, I believed it.

  I pulled the hoodie over my head, leaving me exposed with nothing underneath.

  His breath hitched and he stared at me, trying desperately to keep his eyes on my face. A second ticked by. Then another. His lashes lowered. To my lips. My neck. My chest. His thumb traced his lower lip, naked desire fueling his stare. His eyes hooded. It was the sexiest damn thing I’d ever seen, and it gave me the confidence to hook my thumbs on the waistband of my pants and inch them over my hips. His gaze kept lowering, following the movement of my hands. When I was done, I stepped out of the pooled clothes, naked, trembling.

  I didn’t need to kiss him to know what he was feeling. I could see it on every part of his body. His eyes glazed, his chest heaved, his jeans grew tight at the crotch. The sheen of sweat over his forehead was not from the steam.

  I slipped my fingers underneath the hem of his shirt to feel his bare skin. Yes. Warm, hard, soft. Living velvet. Exactly what I needed. My cold touch drew a sharp hiss from him, but I didn’t stop, and he didn’t make me. I kept my fingers light as I trailed up his front, starting at the ridges of his abdomen then up to his broad, firm chest. When I got to the neck hole of the shirt, I slid my fingers through and continued up the strong column of his neck. Powerful. Hot. Mine. His shirt bunched to make way for my reach and I stepped into him, flattening myself against his now exposed torso. Skin to skin. Sighing, my fingers slipped behind his neck. I rested my thumb on his racing pulse and listened to his ragged breath. He wanted me. But he waited.

  The sound of the ocean crashed from the fake window. It almost felt like Margaret River back home. The shower streamed rhythmically, lulling me, calming me. Slowly, I thawed.

  All the while, he watched, silently assessing, respectfully never touching. Letting me use his body to infuse warmth into me.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow and I cupped his jaw between my palms. Stubble scraped my skin, rough and raw. I used my thumb to trace his bottom lip, just as he had done to himself a moment ago. He opened his mouth to me and I slid in, wetting my thumb on his tongue. When he sucked, I gasped, heat pooling at my core. My nipples pebbled against his chest and he growled. He caught my wrists in a vice and yanked them from his face, then he pulled them out of his shirt. The fabric dropped to cover his body, separating us. A crime.

  Rejection welled through me. It burned.

  “I’m sorry,” he ground out. “I shouldn’t encourage you. You need to take it easy.”

  “More,” I said. My ability to construct coherent thought was fast escaping me.

  “You need to rest,” he said, gaze relaxing. “I almost lost you.”

  “Touching you makes me stronger. Nothing between us,” I croaked, pleading. “I need you.” Crave you. Have to have you.

  What was he thinking? What was going through that complex mind of his? Cash closed his pained eyes. Long lashes fanned against his cheeks. When he opened them, I knew I had won. The naked desire pouring out was an avalanche of emotion so powerful, I had to step backwards. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift motion and dropped it.

  Exhilarated at the predatory challenge in his eyes, I backed away, toward the shower. My butt hit the glass screen. He kept coming, eyes locked on my body, drinking me in. I watched as he undid his belt buckle, then the button, then the fly. He pulled his jeans down and let them fall. He stepped out of them and kicked them wantonly to the side. He braced his arms on either side of my head, boxing me in. Naked.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Yes,” he said and brought his mouth to mine, crushing my lips with a kiss.

  I moaned as the onslaught of his hidden essence slammed into me, lifting me, kindling me, consuming me. It flowed towards mine; a river to the sea. This was something that couldn’t lie, no matter what walls were between us. He needed me too, desperately. I gave back and we were long lost lovers dancing around each other. Breathless. Weightless. Lena was right. We were made for each other. A magnificent avalanche of rightness surged through me, and I knew he felt it too, because he sighed with his body. He relaxed into me all the way, deepening the kiss. He tasted salty, sweet, heady. He took my hands in his and lifted them over my head so he could flatten himself against me.

  “There’s no going back,” he whispered. “No running away, Roo.”

  “Yes,” I repeated, panting.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, more. Yes, you. Everything.”

  He smiled. I melted against him. “I feel the same way,” he said.

  “I can tell.” I nudged his erection with my hips. He gave a pained moan. “Now”—I trailed a teasing finger down his neck, to his chest, lower—“if you keep talking, I’m going to go mad.”

  “I’ll show you mad.” He playfully nipped my bottom lip with his teeth and then hitched me up by the waist.

  I wrapped my legs around him and our bodies touched at the most sensitive parts, still separated. I slid and ground against him, impatient, letting sparks fly in my body. Gods, he felt good. More. Now. No more waiting.

  He pushed gently, the tip of him asking permission.

  “Are you sure?” His voice was husky, broken.

  I reached down and guided him in. It had been too long since I’d been with someone. It was almost too much. I cried out.

  “Did I hurt you?” He hesitated, drawing out.

  “It’s okay,” I breathed and pushed toward him again, bringing him deeper.

  He cursed into my neck and slid in another inch, paused, then another, and another until he sheathed himself fully inside me. On an exhale, his head dropped to my shoulder, teeth on my flesh. He squeezed my rear and circled his hips, groaning in appreciation. He moved, in, out, languidly, taking his time, holding me in his strong arms against the screen.

  My eager hips thrust to meet him with every painfully deliberate stroke he made. I needed—“More,” I demanded.

  On my skin, his lips curved in a smile. He ignored my followup whimper and kept himself slow, relishing. He shifted my weight to one arm and brought the other to my front, thumb reaching down to my sweet spot, rubbing gently, sending me insane. Yes. This was insanity. This slow, aching build of tension.

  “Cash,” I gasped. Both a plea and a warning. “Faster.”

  His hot, wet tongue explored my earlobe, my jaw, and then my lips. I gripped his hair and pulled tight. His essence trickled through our contact. It tickled mine, teasing, probing. I shot mine back, invigorating him, urging him on. But he dipped his tongue into my mouth with the same leisurely rhythm as his hips. Bastard. Where was his heat? The passion. The raw, powerful energy I’d seen so much in him. He was being too gentle. Too careful. I wanted more. All of him. No holding back. I caught his tongue and sucked, eliciting a suppressed groan from deep in his throat.

  The glass behind me creaked with our force; the heat beyond making it weak.

  “Shit.” He stopped, panting, hands supporting me from underneath. The strain of holding my weight pulled every muscle in his body taut. His face flushed pink and adorable, dazed. I wiggled, wanting more. He cursed again. Another creak behind me. He grunted. “Glass will break. Open the shower door.”

  I reached out with my power. The door to my side telekinetically opened. Captive steam puffed out and he rushed us inside until my back pushed through the hot stream to land against the cooler tiles. Oh God, that sharp shock of temperature.

  Water cascaded down his body. Rivulets ran over every crevice and sinewy mound of flesh… it drove my heart into hyper-drive. I could
n’t get enough of him. I touched him everywhere. Everything inside me ached for him to go faster. Now, Cash. Now. Sensing my urgency, he moved with more lust, more drive and speed until I felt that sweet pressure build again.

  “Cash…” I was helpless to do anything but hold on to him. “I’m going to…”

  “Yes,” he said—grunted.

  Tightness coiled at my center, pulling and growing at the same time.

  “Roo.” He thrust, demanding.

  I clamped down on his shoulder, biting down, about to explode, and then erupted around him, screaming his name, fighting for breath. My skin was on fire, my lungs burned, my vision went white. I clung to his shoulders for dear life.

  He kissed my neck while the stars fell around me, and my legs weakened with aftershocks, then he plunged one last relentless time.

  “Fuck.” His body grew tight, his shoulders tensed, his torso stiffened. He shuddered, breaking inside me.

  Cash’s hold underneath me weakened, and my legs slid to the floor, supporting myself once again. I stroked his hair gently as he rested against me, catching his breath.

  “Are you okay?” He ran his fingers down my front.

  A sigh was all I could manage, and the sound of running water was all I could hear as we held each other close. Then he drew me off the wall. Wet, his long lashes clumped together. His cheeks flushed, and his lips were just-kissed-swollen. I could only imagine what I looked like.

  “Let me wash you,” he said, reaching for a bottle of body wash in the caddy. While he squeezed a small amount onto his palm, for the first time, I noticed a slight discoloring on his torso under the ribs.

  “What happened?” I touched a dark spot.

  He sucked in a breath, abdomen pulling tight. “From our training.”

  I gasped. “I did that?”

  He lathered up and placed his hands on my collarbone where he massaged the slippery suds over my body with severe concentration, taking special consideration at the knots in my shoulders. I almost forgot what I had been saying.

  “Cash,” I prompted. “Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. Just healing slower than I’d like to admit. I want to wash your hair. Turn around.” Without waiting, he rotated me by the shoulders until I faced the wall. He tugged me back against him until the hot stream hit my head and ran down my back.

  Gently, he pushed me out of the stream, put shampoo on his hands and rubbed my scalp in slow, orgasmic, circular strokes. Heaven. This must be what heaven felt like. My eyelids drifted closed, and I swayed. My hands shot out to steady myself against the tiles. What was I saying?

  “Roo. You’re tired. Let’s get you out. Another big day tomorrow.” He rinsed my hair then turned the faucet off.

  “Cash, I’ve never felt better.”

  Ignoring my answer with a smile, he wrapped a towel around me, then himself. He picked me up and cradled me in his arms as he walked to the bed.

  The last thing I remembered was the sound of the ocean singing me to sleep as his strong arms pulled me into his warm embrace. I thought, I’ll never go cold again, and, this was a moment I’d like to repeat.

  Chapter 23

  Soft lips on my neck woke me from my sleep haze.

  “Roo, wake up.”

  “Mm.” I opened my eyes to Cash’s gorgeous face staring down at me.

  I grinned, licked my lips and eyed him off suggestively.

  A solitary eyebrow lifted over his amused eyes. “As much as I’d like to entertain that thought I see flittering in your eyes, we have to get moving.”

  But I drew him close and kissed him. His heavy body melted into me for a tiny minute then he pushed back. “Tonight. I promise.”

  When he walked away, I registered he was fully clothed. “What’s so important?”

  “Your second trial. Five am start, remember?”

  I sat up sharply, pulling the blankets to cover myself. “Already?”

  He nodded. “I let you sleep as long as I could. You needed your rest.”

  “Shit,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit. How much time do we have?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  Adrenaline pumped in my veins and I surged out of bed to search my suitcase for suitable attire.

  “What do you want for breakfast? Bacon and eggs?” Cash called from the kitchen.

  “Sweet mother of Prince, I’m never leaving here. You treat me like a queen.”

  His silence expanded awkwardly. What did I say? Prince? I meant the musician. Maybe he thought I meant the evil one. Or was it… Oh. Queen. Idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, thinking of his interstellar ex-girlfriend. “She must have done you over good.”

  “She did. But I’m with you now.” His head poked back around the open doorway. He pointed at some clothes on the end of the bed. “Wear those.” Then he left again.

  What he said hit me.

  He’s with me.

  As in… are we, really? A flash of our hot, steamy shower entered my mind. The feel of his hard body next to mine. The smell of him. The taste of him. I pulled a strand of knotty hair in front of my face and sniffed the residual shampoo scent. I smiled, falling back into the pillows and curling my toes. Yes. I’m with him and he’s with me.

  He called my name from the kitchenette.

  Shit. Trial. I dressed in the pair of black yoga pants and racer back top, then shoved on my joggers, tied my hair into a hasty bun and followed my nose.

  In the kitchen, Cash’s mood had soured. His posture was tense, and he prodded the bacon with discontent. I shouldn’t have mentioned her. The infamous, demanding queen, always finding a way to leech into our lives. I disliked her already.

  “Here,” I said and nudged him aside from the sizzling pan. “Let me take over. You’ve looked after me enough. Sit.”

  He didn’t sit. He stood behind me and slipped his hands around my waist, nuzzling into my hair. “You smell good. I could get used to this.”

  I smiled. “Me too. It’s almost—”

  “Domestic?” He gave a short laugh through his nose.

  “I was going to say, too good to be true, but… that’ll do.”

  “Don’t get used to it. Our lives aren’t our own, we’ll be on the road soon enough.”

  I pushed the eggs around for a bit. “Cash?”

  “Mm?”

  “I’m sorry I ruined the mood by bringing her up. Do you want to talk about it?”

  He tightened his embrace, but said nothing.

  “Okay,” I said. “You don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just remove the foot from my mouth and we can carry on.”

  “It just that…” He paused.

  I held my breath, hoping he’d continue.

  “I knew there was something wrong,” he said, “and I didn’t listen to my instincts. I let her convince me she knew what she was doing that everything was okay. I should’ve stood my ground, but I didn’t, and in the end, we lost everything. Now I’m here, together with you, and I have the chance to start over… I don’t want to ruin it.”

  I turned in his arms to find pain flickering behind his eyes. My heart broke.

  He focused on me with grave concentration. “When you told me you would stay with Urser, I let you go against my better judgment. It won’t happen again. You’re coming back here after the trial. Don’t even think about arguing.”

  I gently pressed my lips to his. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yup.” Bacon popped in the pan and I turned back to it.

  Cash squeezed my hips in a show of solidarity, then let go. He held out two plates, and I dished up in silence, brain caught on a kernel of foreboding. Twice someone tried to kill me, and twice The Others took over. I wasn’t any closer to getting them out of me than I was days ago. In fact, it was getting worse.

  Kill myself multiple times in a controlled environment, was Lena’s suggestion. Maybe she was right. I should book in an appointment with her as soon as the trials are over.

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nbsp; Cash placed our plates at the dinner table, and I was about to join him when I spied the lonely pot plant on the coffee table. It looked a little better than yesterday. I quickly retrieved it and placed it between us at the table, then poured some water from my glass into the plant. Its leaves immediately perked up, and I sensed from its tiny life-force that it was grateful. I shook my head. Must be imagining things. How could a plant talk to me?

  When I looked up at Cash, he was watching me with an odd look.

  “What?” I said.

  “Nothing. You just reminded me of… never mind. Eat your breakfast.”

  We ate our food. Me savoring my bacon, eying the plant proudly, Cash shoveling his meal into his mouth.

  “Do you know what the second trial involves?” Cash asked when his plate was clean.

  “The first is the written component, the second is the physical, and the third is the practical. But that’s all I know.”

  “Right, well, we’ve done all we can in the time given for your physical training. You’ll also be demonstrating your abilities with another contender. Let’s hope you’re paired with a non-powered Nephilim. Hurry and finish your meal.”

  I spooned eggs into my mouth, chewed and swallowed. “See, this is where this game gets confusing. We’re tested on our abilities, but we can’t use them in public. What’s the point?”

  “You’re forbidden to let humans discover your skills, but you can use them on each other. This is to demonstrate what your skills are to the Tribunal—a way for them to catalog your abilities so they can keep track of you in the real world.”

  “Won’t we risk hurting everyone in the crowd?”

  “There’s a trans-astral portal that protects every one.”

  “You said the trans-what now?”

  “It uses the same technology as the windows in the rooms, but samples a physical space,” he explained. “The contenders move to another location we can see, but can’t be affected by. Kind of like a mechanical version of what Marc does. It can never go far though, a few hundred kilometers. Don’t worry about that. What’s going on in the background is of greater significance.”

  “Like what?” I moved the food around my plate, suddenly not hungry anymore.