I put the fork down. “That, and because of his son.”
Kathy squints. “What’s the deal with him?”
She’s been really nice to me. The least I can do is be honest with her. Without giving away all the details, I share my first date fiasco with Blaze’s—aunt? Guardian? (No clue what kind of relation they share.) “That’s why I wasn’t sure if you want me around”—I look at Blaze, who’s catching up with the lasagna—“him.”
Kathy reaches over the table, squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry people are cruel like that, Nisha. I didn’t know when I took you to the station.” She points at a picture of her in the midst of a Mardi Gras celebration. “I recently transferred here from New Orleans. The other cops know I don’t care much about rumors, so I never heard of any of it.” She smiles. “But let me tell you this: what happened wasn’t your fault, and they should know that.”
My gaze drops to the plate. “They’re just scared.”
“Of what?” Blaze barks, mouth full. “A curse? Some stupid superstition?”
I get he doesn’t believe in this stuff. Atheist, remember? But being oblivious to the truth doesn’t always end well. “It’s not just a superstition, Blaze.”
He waves his knife at Kathy. “You tell her.”
Kathy wipes her lips with a napkin. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re looking at this alleged curse the wrong way?”
I’m a little confused. “What do you mean?”
She looks from me to Blaze and back. “Has Blaze told you what we are?”
“Travelers?” I hope she’s referring to that and not some alien descent. Hey, considering how stunningly handsome Blaze is, it’s not farfetched.
“Born and bred.” Weird. Kathy looks all-American with her blonde thatch. “Our people traveled the Nubian desert for ages. Some were blessed with the second sight and became well-known fortunetellers. Others had been gifted with the art of craftsmanship, forging the deadliest weapons the continent had ever seen. And then, there were”—she eyeballs Blaze—“the warriors. They were stronger, faster, and deadlier than any army the world had ever seen. Dozens of kingdoms tried to acquire their lethal services. But our clan had one rule: it would always and forever stay neutral.”
“Like Switzerland?” I ask, enthralled by their history and culture.
Kathy’s smile widens. “Yes, sort of like Switzerland. The elders of our clan had made a deal with the old gods. They swore an oath to be the force between good and evil, to only interfere if the balance of the universe was at stake.”
Blaze doesn’t seem happy about the little excursion into his roots. “C’mon, Kathy. Would you spare her the boring details?”
I cock a brow. “It’s not boring.” Again, I like hearing about other cultures. Kind of feels like I’m sitting on the porch with my mom, listening to her stories about long-forgotten empires.
Kathy winks at him. “I think this one is a keeper.” I’m already blushing, but she ignores my red cheeks and continues. “Anyway, where was I?”
“They swore an oath,” I jog her memory.
“Right,” she says, pouring some more red wine into her glass. “The clan upheld their end of the bargain for ages. Then, one day, a boy was born. He was stronger than all the other warriors—fought with the grace of a tiger, the strength of a hippopotamus, and the mind of a gray parrot. When a war came upon the neighboring country—”
“Egypt?”
“How do you—”
“My dad was an archeologist, my mom a mythologist, and I’m half Egyptian,” I explain quickly.
“I see.” She downs some wine. “Well, then you might have heard this story already?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
Blaze’s face slips into a frown. “It’s not that great anyway.”
Kathy casts him a sidelong glance. “He hates the old myths.”
“I don’t,” I assure her, hoping she goes on.
She does. “So, the war was bloody. And when the mighty warrior heard of it, he begged the elders to stop the senseless killings, to let him go out there and fight for the ones who couldn’t fend for themselves.”
I lean in, almost knocking over my glass. “But that would have been against the deal they’d made.” It’s been ages since I’ve been so invested in a story. The last time was when Mom told me about Seth and his goddess.
She nods. “And that’s exactly what the elders told him.” She draws a deep breath. “The boy was stubborn though. He didn’t accept no for an answer. One night, he left the clan, to fight for what he thought was right.”
I have a feeling this isn’t going to end in a happily-ever-after. “Then what happened?”
“He won the war, but was exiled from his people as punishment for breaking the oath,” Blaze grumbles. Unlike me, he hates the tale. I hear it in his voice. See it in his clouded eyes.
“He roamed the desert for weeks,” Kathy continues, a tight grip on her wine glass. “Didn’t know where to go, or what to do.”
A knife pierces through my chest. I keep telling myself it’s just a legend, but I can’t help but feel for the boy who did the wrong thing for the right reason and suffered such merciless consequences. “Don’t tell me he died.” It comes out as a plea.
“Nope.” Blaze shoves his half-eaten lasagna away. “He was saved by an Egyptian god, swore him eternal loyalty, and went on to become the mightiest warrior Egypt had ever seen—the first Medjay.” He waves his hand, unimpressed. “Yadda, yadda, yadda.”
Medjay. The word is so familiar. Where have I heard it before?
“There’s more to the story,” Kathy explains, earning her a murderous glance from Blaze. “He didn’t just become the mightiest warrior. He went on to become a legend.”
The legs of Blaze’s chair screech across the floor. “I think that’s enough history for one night.”
No way! I bat my lashes at him. “I really want to hear how it ends.”
He sighs and sits his butt back down. “Go on, then.”
“The mighty warrior had to break his oath once more when his friend, the god, was corrupted by the forces of darkness, aiming to unleash hell on earth. The warrior joined forces with the goddess of protection. Together, they stopped him and restored the balance of the universe.”
A warrior and a goddess plotting against a god, ready to bring upon the end of the world? Sounds strangely familiar. It’s just like the vison or hallucination I had at the river. Could this be the same story? Did my mind conjure up these images because my mom once told me the exact same thing? It’s possible. The human brain has a tendency to fill in the gaps. So, maybe I’m not that crazy after all. Maybe my mind just retold a story I heard when I was a kid, making Blaze part of it because he descends from the same tribe.
Kathy must see the question marks on my face. “Do you know why I told you this?”
Gee, I almost forgot she brought the whole thing up because of my curse. “Not really,” I admit, failing to see a connection.
Kathy takes another sip and leans back. “The warrior’s clan thought what he did was against the deal they’d made. They shunned him, exiled him, and feared him. In reality, it was his destiny to rebel. He was fated to be in Egypt, so he could honor the oath his people once swore, keeping the balance between good and evil.”
Yeah, I kind of got that. Yet I have no clue what this has to do with me. “That might be true, but he didn’t bring death upon a whole town.”
Kathy meets my gaze. “Have you ever considered you’re not the one bringing death, but the one who’s supposed to be with those people before they go on their last journey?”
“Why me?” Doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I was consoling them or anything.
Kathy shrugs. “I’ll tell you this: if I was to leave this world, I’d want to look into eyes like yours. They’d remind me of all the good in this world and would make me hope for the best in the next.”
The cloudiness in Blaze’s eyes vanishes. “Now
that’s something we both agree upon,” he says, smiling at me.
Wow, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Tears well in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. “Thank you.” For having me here. For treating me like a human being. For reminding me there are still good people out there. You just have to look harder to find them.
Kathy winks at me. “And for the record, you’re always welcome in my house.”
“That’s settled, then.” Blaze gets on his feet. “Let’s move on to the surprise.” He bows low and extends his hand. “Shall we, princess?”
I put my hand in his and sigh. “I still hate surprises, you know.”
“Not this one, you won’t.”
I guess I’ll just have to trust him on this.
It’s pitch-black. I can hear my heart beating. I can hear Blaze’s heart beating. I can feel my boiling blood pumping through my veins as we stand there, not one of us moving. The suspense is slowly killing me. Why did he insist on covering my eyes? Why did I agree to it? What’s hidden behind this door? Do I really want to know?
Blaze’s rock-hard chest is pressed against my back, torturing me with emotions I’m not ready to feel—excitement, anticipation, longing. It’s too much. His ragged breath, warming the nape of my neck, drives my fragile heart nuts. “Ready, princess?”
How am I supposed to answer when I don’t have the slightest idea what I need to be prepared for? I soak in his lemon scent and let my imagination run wild. I can show you my private handcuff collection, he’d said when we first met. Is that what this is about? A kinky room with a variety of plush shackles? Black whips, diagonal crosses, and a rack flicker across my mind. I’m going to go out on a limb and say I feel like Anastasia Steele, seconds before Christian Grey unlocked the door leading to his playroom—we all know he didn’t hide shooter games in there, don’t we?
A lock clicks open. The sound sends shivers down my spine. “Almost there,” he whispers.
“You said that ten minutes ago.” I snort, regretting that I agreed to this in the first place.
He gently presses my head between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t be so impatient,” he says as the dull noise of an opening door echoes through the hallway.
Deep down, I know he’s stalling on purpose. He likes being in control. Loves the idea of me being at his mercy. It’s about trust, too. He wants to know if I feel safe around him. I always have. He is the one who’s at risk.
I clear my throat, hoping I’m still capable of forming a coherent sentence without breaking into a stammer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His lips brush against my earlobe. “You and I both.” This dang confidence of his makes his smoky voice even sexier.
I pay no attention to the goosebumps rising all over my skin, disregard the tiny explosion rocking my core, and play as cool as possible considering my situation. “Dream on, pal.”
He snickers. “Watch your step, princess.”
I hide my sweaty palms in my pockets and let him lead me inside. “All right,” I say when we stop. “Can we please get this over with?” I’m not sure how much more my poor heart can take. Since I’ve witnessed how brutal and painful a heart attack can be, I’d rather not suffer one.
He sighs. “Whatever happened to the girl who was mad at me for spoiling a book, because she loves anticipation?”
Said girl was never blinded by a smoking-hot guy so he could show her a handcuff collection at best, whips and other weird stuff at worst. “Blaze,” I grumble.
“Fine.” He slowly lifts his hand from my eyes. “Have it your way.”
My vision is blurred. I blink several times until my eyes finally adjust to the bright light flooding the room. Once the flashes disappear, I scan my surroundings. There’s no evidence of a Christian Grey-styled fetish. No sign of handcuffs, racks, or diagonal crosses. The walls are painted a light-blue, which is easy on the eyes. Moonlight slices through a massive window front, ebony furniture gives the room a warm and welcoming touch and—
Oh, my sweetness.
“Kittens?” Four tiny balls of fur are scattered all over Blaze’s bed.
He grins. “Surprise.”
Anxiety was yesterday. I gape at Blaze—the snarky, tattooed MMA fighter who shares his bed with a bunch of kittens. “Are they yours?”
He moves toward the babies and flings himself down. The black kitten immediately lifts its head and starts purring. “I found them in the shed behind the house, couple of days ago.”
I step closer, examining the cuteness overload. One is black, two have a grayish tiger coat, one is orange. They can’t be older than a few weeks, but they look well taken care of. “What about the mother?”
“Not sure.” The black kitten nudges Blaze’s thigh. He puts it on his lap, patting its head. “I kept waiting for her to show up, but she never did. With the temperatures dropping, I thought it would be best if I took them in.”
An unwelcome heaviness settles over my chest. “Do you think she’s dead?”
Blaze meets my gaze. He’s been wondering the same. “I hope not.” He smiles at the kitten crawling up his chest, all the way up to his neck. “She might show up one day. I still keep some cat food and milk outside, just in case.”
My heart swells as I watch them. It’s such a contradiction. Here’s that bad boy who, not long ago, claimed he was bad news. But he cares for a bunch of abandoned kittens and looks genuinely concerned about their mother. Gee, my dad was right. None of us is born black and white, we constantly tread in the gray zone.
Blaze taps the mattress next to him. “C’mon, princess. Meet the little ones.” A moment ago I would have freaked out at such an offer. But kittens? I mean, who in this world can resist such adorableness?
I plummet down. The black one immediately jumps from Blaze’s shoulder and sniffs me. “Can I?” I ask, pointing at the kitten rocking longer teeth than any vamp. Not kidding. Its mouth is closed, and yet I can see the sharp fangs.
Blaze shrugs. “I don’t know if you can, but you very well may.”
I’m too mesmerized by the fur ball to pay much attention to the grammar police. “Hey there,” I say, my palm drifting over its soft coat. “I’m Nisha. And who are you?”
In the corner of my eye, I spot the smile curling up Blaze’s lips. “That’s Mowgli,” he explains.
“Like the Jungle Book character?”
Blaze shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s a she, not a he.”
I like it when girls have boy names. “What about the others? Do they have names too?” Only reason I’m asking is because I can’t shake the feeling Mowgli and Blaze share a special bond.
“Sure. These”—he points to the grayish tigers—“are Luna, Joey, and”—his finger drifts to the orange one—“here, we’ve got bad boy Mike.”
Vamp cat plays with my fingers. “Interesting names.”
“I’m an interesting guy,” he shoots back, flashing me a wicked grin.
Won’t argue with that.
Blaze falls back onto his mattress, waking the other kittens. Lazily, they lick their paws. Then, they slowly approach his chest. Vamp kitten, aka Mowgli, keeps on playing with my hand, biting and scratching—she’s a wild child. When she grows tired of it, she climbs up my sweater, attempting to nest between my neck and shoulder blade. I decide to make it easier for her and lie down.
“She likes you,” he says as the kittens’ purring roars through the room.
Yeah, Mowgli doesn’t care about my reputation, or the fact I’m the Angel of Death. Like Blaze and Kathy before, she gives me the benefit of the doubt, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make me feel less freakish. “I like her too.”
We stay like this forever. No words are exchanged, no body contact is made. The only noise is the purring of the four kittens resting on our chests.
“Nisha?” Blaze sits up and leans against the headboard. “May I ask you something?”
I’m so relaxed, he could ask me just about anything. I press my e
lbows into the mattress. “What’s up?”
“You don’t have to answer,” he warns.
Careful not to disturb Mowgli, I shift so we’re face to face. “Shoot.”
He brushes his hair back. Whatever question he has makes him uneasy. “How are you really holding up?”
I squint. How am I holding up? Is that a trick question? I kind of expected something like: Are you a virgin? Or: How does it feel to be the bringer of death? “I’m good, I guess. But why would you—”
“Your parents,” he adds quickly. Unlike most people questioning me about my dead folks, he doesn’t rock a pitiful or resenting expression. I’m not saying he acts cold either. No. He’s just…real, I guess. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be to lose them both to…”
“A home invasion?” I finish for him when he can’t get the words out.
He flinches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, Blaze.” Oddly, it really is. There are only two people I’ve spoken to about my parents since they’ve been gone: my shrink, and recently, Aunt V. For some unexplainable reason, I decide to let Blaze join the club. “My psychiatrist always encouraged me to talk about them. Let’s make the man proud.” I conjure up a smile. “What do you want to know?”
Normal eighteen-year-old dudes run the instant a girl mentions her shrink. Blaze just looks at me, no judgment in his eyes. “Just how you’re doing,” he says softly.
Just how I’m doing? No one, not even my family and friends, ever asked me that. It’s not that they don’t care about my well-being. Heck, they do. They’re just quick to dismiss the “home invasion” topic for fear I might break some more.
Mowgli digs her claws in my sweater. “I miss them a lot,” I admit, stroking the kitten’s small head. “But other than that, I’m okay.” I spent a lot of time dwelling in guilt and self-pity. My nights were so cold and empty, I was certain the pain would freeze my soul. My days were filled with so much wrath and hate, it felt as if all my tears had turned to dust. It got so bad I couldn’t eat, get up, or look at their pictures. That’s when Aunt V brought in the shrink, hoping he could save me from myself.
Book of Souls (Gods of Egypt 1) Page 17