The air was ripe with the stench of the dead and dying and the winds picking up strength did not help. It carried the stench strongly to Osaki’s nose and it made him want to hurl.
The day’s sun fell over the bodies, burning them, hastening the bad smell. He felt sick to his stomach but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Everywhere he looked, there were bodies among the soldiers that remained after the latest attacks. Though there was quiet then—deathly silence—he knew the war was not over.
His hair fluttered in the wind as he reached up and sheathed his sword. Every muscle ached terribly. The wound he was holding bled more with his movements and he gritted his teeth. Another man stood a short distance from him—a strange man, a man who gave off an air of the battle scarred. He was tall with long, dark hair and from what Hirosuke Osaki could remember, this man’s eyes were filled with a storm that sent shivers down Hirosuke Osaki’s spine.
There was something about the stranger, something Osaki couldn’t quite put his finger on, but Osaki did not question it. The man was on his side and thus a friend. The rest of Hirosuke Osaki’s men were busy checking on the dead. He took a breath and moved from where he’d been standing. Two steps later, movement caught his attention from the corner of his eyes. He knew it was bad, for the sun played off the attacker’s sword. Osaki screamed something even his mind couldn’t decipher and knew instantly that his friend would not react in time. Though weak from the battle and his wound, Osaki pulled his sword and stepped into action.
He shoved his soldier out of the way just as the attacker’s sword sliced through Osaki’s back. An involuntary gasp escaped Osaki and he looked down to see the very tip of the metal weapon sticking through his stomach. There was a sickening, sucking noise of the sword being pulled back, but the damage was done. His head went dazed then pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before pulsated through him. There was a sound, almost like someone gargling water. He wasn’t sure where it came from for his mind could barely hold a thought. The only thing he could even get out was that he was dying. He slumped to his knees, pressing both hands to the opening in his stomach as a flurry of activity began happening around him. A body hit the ground beside him before he fell face first into the dirt rich with the blood of the others.
“Hirosuke Osaki!”
Strong hands turned Osaki over and he blinked so his dying mind could recognize who was looking down into his face. It was the soldier with the beautiful eyes, the one who Osaki didn’t know but respected, for he was a soldier on the side of good. Tears slipped down the man’s cheeks, which confused Osaki.
“They say only…gods cry for the just. Why are you crying?” Osaki asked.
“Because, Hirosuke Osaki, you are just.”
Osaki’s eyes widened. “And you are a god…”
“Yes.”
“Ares…”
“Yes.”
Osaki gasped, gurgling around the foul taste of blood rising in his throat. “Why do you not stop this?”
“Because humans have free will,” Ares replied. “They chose this. Greed and jealousy are the wings this war is flying on. I cannot simply stop it.”
Darkness fell over Osaki’s eyes and he blinked. This time Ares’ face was just a blur of a dark spot and some hair. “Then I die because of a choice.”
“No, Hirosuke Osaki. You die because of two choices. And for that, you shall be rewarded. You shall walk among my people.”
Osaki smiled—at least he hoped he smiled. Though he wanted to say more, the words just wouldn’t flow from his lips for his mind was gone and the darkness beckoned.
* * * *
Present day
Blindfolded, Osaki stood with the wind blowing against him. His trench coat flapped around his ankles. The sand stinging his face was mildly annoying more than anything else. Inhaling, Osaki used a new skill Ciro had taught him, allowing the lance to materialize in his hand. He pointed the tip toward the ground, slid his legs apart to brace himself and waited. This wouldn’t have been his weapon of choice, but Ciro had insisted that he learn to wield it.
To make matters worse, Osaki couldn’t seem to clear his mind fast enough. Everything was interfering with his head. Holding his breath, he mentally counted to ten then exhaled in a low whoosh out of his mouth. That did nothing to help the situation. If anything, it made the voices in his mind scream louder.
He wasn’t ready, but the attack came.
Osaki brought his lance up to slam into Ciro’s. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the void of the barren space. He was pushed backward, kicking up dust. He twirled beneath another of Ciro’s attacks and rooted himself. Osaki’s shoulders rose and fell while he waited. Inside his head, he was trying to figure out Ciro’s next move.
Osaki surged off the dusty ground, slid through the air, zigzagging as he went. Though he climbed at the speed of wind, he wasn’t fast enough. Ciro was on him in no time and the battle resumed. The sound of metal colliding filled the air once more, clouding his senses and blocking any feel he could get from Ciro. It didn’t help that adrenaline pumped through him like a waterfall into a river.
Suddenly, Ciro slammed a fist into his chest and, without being able to stop, Osaki sailed through the air and crashed into the ground. His throat stung with the dust he’d swallowed and his back hurt fiercely from the fall. Frustrated and angry with himself, Osaki lay there, reaching up only to remove the blindfold with his free hand. When he turned his head for the lance—it was gone.
Osaki knew for sure that he’d never become a real Shiver or be able to protect the Earth and fight beside Ciro and his crew. He just couldn’t get it together.
“Son of a…” Osaki allowed his head to fall to the surface as his chest heaved with exertion. “This is not going to work.”
“Not if you keep thinking that.” Ciro landed by his head and hunched down to peer into his eyes. The Shiver’s eyes danced with curiosity. “Come on, Osaki. You are samurai. You fight to the end.”
“Pardon my short temper, but that is a load of crap—and you know it.”
“No. You will get this. It has only been a short while.” Ciro offered his hand. “This will take time.”
Osaki muttered something under his breath but accepted the hand. Ciro pulled him to his feet. “Time is something I don’t have. This is taking too long.”
“You just need to clear your mind,” Ciro advised. “Everything that happened outside each battle, let it go. A shiver needs all his faculties about him, for his mind controls everything.”
“That is just it,” Osaki replied, brushing off the back of his coat. “As a samurai I needed skills and my mind. They both depended on each other. Hell, you controlled a storm while you battled Aerios.”
Ciro smiled as a father would to his son. “But I would not be here if you had not saved me. Remember that part?”
“I did not do anything of the sort.”
“Believe what you will.” Ciro shrugged. “I will always be grateful you saved me so I could finish the fight and get home to the man I love.”
Osaki eyed him for a silent moment, wondering briefly if he would get a second chance at love. He had to stop thinking like that. It was weakness. “What is this place?” he asked in an effort to change the subject.
“It is called the Waste Land. It is where Mother keeps her storms when they are not needed.”
“Tell me truly, Ciro. Do you think I can do this? I do not wish to disappoint you. You have given me this gift—a second chance—and I feel as if I am not grasping this to your expectations.”
“My friend, it matters not what my expectations are. Being a Shiver is not easy for those born to it. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you. You have time.”
“You keep saying that. This war will—”
“Will be there. There’s always some being, some angry person wanting to blow this little planet out of existence. There will always be a war. Right now, you must focus on controlling these powers or they will
control you.”
Osaki held Ciro’s gaze for a moment longer before nodding. “I should get back to Olympus.”
“I am heading to my husband,” Ciro said with a wide grin. “It feels so good to say that.”
“I bet. There is nothing better than being in love with someone you know returns the sentiment. I am happy for you.”
“Thank you, my friend. I will see you—as Carter says—when I see you.”
Osaki laughed but nodded. In a flash, Ciro was gone and he was left alone in the Waste Land. For a moment, he allowed the lance to appear in his hand. He stared at it, watching the way it glistened in the sun. Clearing his mind, he watched it disappear. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
Chapter One
“People eat with these things?” Ares asked, knitting his eyebrows in confusion while trying desperately to pick up a pea with a pair of chopsticks. The pea went flying and everyone at the table erupted in laughter.
“Oh please tell me the great God of War is not having issues with a pair of chopsticks!” Hercules teased before arching backward in his mirth.
“I am not used to them,” Ares replied, still trying to use the chopsticks. This time he tried for a piece of chicken. The chopsticks slipped and the meat sailed across the table. Kofi eased to the right and caught it in his mouth. Ares then hurled the sticks behind him and picked up a fork.
“It’s an acquired skill,” Carter assured Ares. “You’ll get it.”
“It took me three years to learn,” Ciro spoke up. “And I am still not as good as I should be.”
They laughed again but Kofi said nothing. He sat there, watching what was happening around the table, and though he was happy to have them all there, he still felt alone. His brother kissed Ciro quickly on the lips before Ciro wiped away something from Carter’s cheek. Kofi refocused on his plate and lifted a piece of beef to his mouth.
“Kofi, you said you were taking time away from your job?” Adrestia questioned. “What would you fill your time with?”
Kofi looked up and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know I need a little time off.”
“Well, you could visit us at the North Shores,” Koi offered. “And you do not have to be dead to visit.”
Carter laughed. “That’s a perk. Trust me.”
Kofi promised them he’d think about it. The truth was that he didn’t really like the idea, since the North Shores was Carter’s thing. He had no reason to visit but there was no need bringing everyone else down. He took a sip from his glass and slipped back into his head while the others turned their attention to Hercules, who was regaling them with tales of his trials.
While the others talked and laughed in the backyard, Kofi Olabasu feigned exhaustion and excused himself. He could feel his brother’s gaze following him. Pausing, he smiled at Carter before stepping into the house. He stopped for a moment to pour some whiskey on ice then turned for the stairs leading to his art room.
At dinner, he hadn’t managed to eat much, just enough so there wouldn’t be any questions. Each forkful that had entered his mouth had tasted strange. His stomach had lurched and cramped with each swallow. Kofi thought he was coming down with something. Suddenly, he just didn’t feel like himself. Gripping the banister, he climbed the stairs and walked into the art room he’d had built onto his place. Though he hadn’t used the room for more than five years, he’d bought new paints with brushes and begun working on stuff again right after Carter’s wedding. It’d been a little over six months since Carter had married his Shiver boyfriend in a lavish ceremony in Greece at some ancient castle, and the two of them seemed happier than ever. But while he was over the moon excited for Carter and Ciro, Kofi just couldn’t shake the weird feeling inside himself.
That strange sensation mixed with the overwhelming need to paint made no sense to him but he wasn’t going to question it. Since he had started working as a real estate agent, he didn’t have much time to paint or do the things he truly loved. His daily life had become one big race against time and bank accounts then by the time he got home, there was no energy to do anything but pass out for the night. Deep down, Kofi knew that reasoning was severely flawed but it was the only one he was willing to entertain.
With the faint sounds of laughter floating up from the others below him, he put on his apron and grabbed the brushes. He stared at the blank canvas for a moment before setting up then began with red paint. He worked until the canvas was completely covered. It was as if he couldn’t stop. Kofi sat back and smiled. He was caught up with his work but not enough to miss that familiar feeling he always felt when Osaki was near.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” Kofi asked without turning around. “Or are you going to say something?”
“I did not think you knew I was here,” Osaki replied. “I was careful not to make a sound.”
“I didn’t hear you,” Kofi said, placing his brush down then turning on his stool.
Osaki was dressed in a blue samurai kimono.
“I felt you. Is everything okay downstairs?”
“Everything is fine. You left a dinner you planned. I may not be human any longer but that, I do not believe, is something that is done. Am I correct?”
“I think so.”
Osaki chuckled. “For a minute there, I thought you would say something like ‘I smelled you’.”
“Nothing like that. Why aren’t you with the others? It sounds like a real party out there now.”
“I just wanted to check on you.” Osaki walked into the room to peer closely at the fresh painting. “You did not look so well when you left us. I was merely curious.”
Kofi smiled. “Thanks… For checking on me, that is.” He turned to stare at the painting with Osaki and for a moment, neither of them spoke. “Do you have a last name?” Kofi questioned. For some reason Osaki mattered to him.
“A last name?” Osaki asked.
“Yes. A family name. Like I’m Kofi, my last name is Olabasu…”
“Oh, right. Hirosuke.”
“So you’re Osaki Hirosuke.”
“The English way, yes. In my country, my name is Hirosuke Osaki.”
“Well, look at that. I learned something new.”
Osaki laughed. “This is beautiful. What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s what I’m feeling inside. Do you really think it’s beautiful? I mean, do you really like it?”
Kofi’s cheeks heated when Osaki turned to look at him. He took a breath and undid the apron he wore, but he pulled the wrong string and it knotted around his neck. He frowned. “This is ridiculous. I can’t even untie a stupid string now?”
“You are feeling chaos, Kofi, confusion. I think perhaps you do need that vacation. Here… Let me help you with that.”
Osaki stepped behind Kofi and tugged at the strings. His fingers brushed Kofi’s skin, sending a streak of electricity down his body. Biting his lips, Kofi held back a moan, wondering why this man’s touch caused such a storm inside him. He said nothing, nor did he try moving away. Kofi was curious, silently burning with each inadvertent stroke of his neck by the samurai.
“I don’t know anything about you,” Kofi said, happy that his voice didn’t crack. “Are you a real samurai?”
Osaki laughed just as the apron loosened and slipped to the floor. Kofi thanked him and picked it up.
“Yes. Actually, I am now considered Rōnin.”
“Rōnin? What does that mean?”
“Er—I have no master. I have no lord. I am called Rōnin.”
Kofi scratched his head, making a mental note to look up what a Rōnin was so the next time he spoke with Osaki, he wouldn’t be completely green. “How come you have no lord?”
“My lord fell in battle in 1467.”
“There are so many more questions I want to ask about that and your age and… But not today. I think I’ve put you through the wringer enough for one day.”
“I thank you for that.” Osaki bowed slightly.
Osaki smiled. “I do not drink.”
“Oh.”
“But I will take some juice, if you have it.”
“Okay. Come on.” Kofi led Osaki out of the room, feeling the samurai’s gaze on his back. He found himself walking straighter, making sure his hips moved a little more than usual and he wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. In the kitchen, deciding what juice to give Osaki was another battle. He poured Osaki a glass of orange juice.
The others in the yard had gravitated toward dominoes and the noise was enough to wake the dead. A loud slam of a domino on the table echoed through the late evening and Kofi had to shake his head.
“Can I make a suggestion for your vacation time?” Osaki asked.
Kofi watched him drink for a moment. Before he knew what was happening, his cock was hard. The dance of Osaki’s Adam’s apple, the slight way in which he tilted his head back and the strength in the man’s free hand that held the counter did something to Kofi. He swallowed the lump in his throat and put the island between himself and the samurai then nodded. “Sure.”
“Nippon-koku.”
“Nippon-koku? Where’s that? Or I could go get my map and…”
“My apologies. Japan. It is a beautiful place, if you know where to go.”
“You think so?” Kofi asked. “I’ve never been.”
Osaki drained his glass and placed it on the counter. “I would be honored to be your guide. I know my way around and I do speak the language.”
“You would do that for me?” Kofi questioned. “I mean, you must have other things you could be doing?”
Osaki eyed him for a moment, a curious glint in his light brown eyes. He said nothing for a second, which felt like an eternity. “You would do the same for me. I have nothing else going on at the moment, so taking a little time and leaving Olympus would not hurt.”
Shivers Page 17