by Ford, Lizzy
“My father was the White God, the deity charged with safeguarding good and battling evil on behalf of all the creatures of the universe. My brother inherited the title when he died. I inherited it from him on his death,” he started.
“You’re a god?”
“Yeah. Cool, isn’t it?” He rested against her, enjoying her scent.
“Why are you on earth? Shouldn’t you be floating in the sky somewhere?” she asked skeptically.
He chuckled.
“A long time ago, there was a battle so horrible it threatened to destroy the whole universe. There are … creatures older than me in the universe, and they were fighting a turf war over who ruled what part of the universe. The battle got so bad that the only way to prevent the annihilation of every being in the universe was to divide the physical and divine worlds. The Schism occurred, and some of us were exiled to the physical world—the human world—while the rest of my kind and the other creatures were confined to the divine world,” he explained. “So, while I am a god, I have to stay here, where I’m preordained to fight Czerno, the Black God, for the fate of humanity.”
As he spoke, memories streamed through his mind, memories of the universe before the Schism and afterwards, when he and a few others were cast alone onto earth. He thought again of the Watcher’s latest warning, of there being a new god in town.
“Were there many Oracles before the Schism?” she asked.
“Oracles are rare but there was at least one every generation. When the kings of our people found them, they mated with them to bind them to them.”
“Instead of blood binding?”
“Depended on the king and the Oracle. I would say it was a rough lesson in history when the kings of my time learned that killing a woman with the intent to bring her back as your servant doesn’t really work as they’d planned,” he explained.
“If you killed me, I’d make your life hell.”
“Exactly.”
“Who’s Darian?” she asked and pushed herself up enough to look at him. Damian’s jaw clenched. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I have dreams about him where he’s sad and alone.”
“Darian was my brother, Sofia,” he said quietly. “He died a long time ago.”
He met her gaze and saw her confusion. The tension between them was thick. He knew without touching her mind that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She cleared her throat and lay down again, facing away from him.
“I’m bound to you forever,” she whispered.
“Yep. You’re mine.”
“Will you … can you have a mate and an Oracle?”
He considered, smiling to himself. For her sake, he made an effort to behave, but he truly loved the openings she gave him.
“I can,” he concurred. “Many times, a king will take an Oracle as his mate. But if you don’t stop messing with my weak heart, I’ll go elsewhere for a mate.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I’ll say again: you’re welcome in my bed, preferably naked, though this is good enough for now, I guess.”
“Damian …” She didn’t finish. He understood. She was terrified of what she was, of his world, of him. He was a saint through and through for rubbing her back instead of seducing her. He liked that she needed the comfort only he could provide, trusted him on a level that seemed to him far more intimate than fucking.
Then again, he was a man, and he didn’t pretend to understand a woman’s mind. He’d never lie down in a woman’s bed and expect to sleep when they were both horny. It was purely a woman thing.
“You must miss your brother,” she said softly.
His thoughts turned dark. He didn’t like that she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he’d sent them to. He released a small burst of power into her. She fell into a deep sleep. Damian wrapped his arm around her and held her close for a moment, torn between thoughts of her naked and thoughts of his brother’s death.
A light knock at his door distracted him from both painful thoughts. He covered Sofia with a comforter and closed the door to his bedroom behind him.
“Come in,” he ordered. The door opened, and he froze.
“Hey, love.” Claire was as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. With red hair, glowing skin, a voluptuous body he’d experienced many times over, and beautiful eyes, she was the epitome of beauty.
“Hello, Claire.”
She closed the door behind her, dressed in clothing that accentuated her large breasts and tight body. His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind. She looked at him with a coy smile before approaching. He didn’t move, unable to determine if this was a dream or a nightmare. His slain brother’s wife had always been a painful sight for him, the reminder of his brother and a happier time before the Schism. She leaned against him, her hand trailing down his chest and settling on his crotch.
“I see you remember the last time we met,” she said, desire clouding her gaze. She kissed him, and he responded, his mind on her and Sofia. It would take Sofia awhile before she came to his bed of her own accord. Claire was ready for him now.
Her arms slid around him, and he pulled her against him, kissing her hungrily. She gripped his ass the way he liked. He kneaded her breasts, wanting nothing better than to suckle her until she cried out in ecstasy.
Sofia. He pulled back, breathing deeply.
“C’mon, love, I’m wet for you,” she purred.
Shit! He wanted to fuck someone, and that someone was sleeping in his bed. There was a time when he didn’t care who he slept with, when he was hard at the sight of any woman who would take him to bed.
“I can’t, Claire,” he said and pushed her away from him.
Surprised, she tried to move toward him. He held her at arm’s length, forcing himself out of the cloud of desire tormenting him. He wished Sofia would wake up and intrude. Her presence would bolster his weak will.
“Love,” Claire said, “for old time’s sake, please.”
“Not this time, Claire,” he said with resolution. “Things have changed.”
Sofia. The voice awoke her from her deep slumber. Moonlight slid in through the crack between the curtains. The voices were not happy, and she was surprised to hear one of them. It was a woman’s.
“…and I’ve told you no,” Damian said. “It ain’t happening, sister.”
“Why not? We’re so good together.”
She peeked through the crack in the door to see the voice of the speaker.
Claire. Darian’s whisper was tortured. He was silent, as if watching. Sofia rubbed her temples but didn’t move, grateful he wasn’t hurting her head for once.
The woman was beautiful, tall and shapely with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that made no attempt to hide her interest in the bare-chested man before her. Damian’s hair was mussed, his arms crossed.
“How long were we a pair?” the woman continued, tracing a finger lazily down his bicep. “Centuries, no?”
Her accent was exotic and complemented her sexy, sultry voice. Damian crossed to the window.
“Claire, no,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were rotating here, or I’d have blocked it.”
“My love, we’ve been destined for each other since I wed your brother thousands of years ago. We had eyes only for each other then.”
“And I learned the hard way. What we had is gone. Long gone.”
“We don’t need love. I know you want me,” Claire said.
At his hesitation and the heated, lustful look he gave her, Sofia’s mouth dropped open. He shook his head despite the desire on his face.
“Come, love. We will fight and fuck together. What else is there?” Claire urged. She had a damn good point, Sofia admitted, and hated her for it. Damian’s gaze turned to the door to the bedroom, and she ducked back, remembering he could hear her thoughts.
If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the choice he’d make whether or not she was there.
“Not possible,” he said.
She didn’t know if it was meant for her or the woman sidling up to him. Or both.
“Why not?” Claire purred.
Sofia peeked out. The woman was all over him! Her boobs were pressed against Damian’s bare chest, and her hands were on his biceps. Sofia knew she had no right to claim him, especially when she just rejected him less than an hour before. Fuming anyway, she pushed the curtains away from the balcony door and stepped into the night, winter’s chill taking some of the heat out of her.
“Stupid men. Always want women with huge boobs and nothing between their ears. Let’s screw, Damian. We’re good at it, so why not?”
What in God’s name was wrong with her? Her balcony was several feet from the edge of his. She looked to the bushes several floors down and decided it was worth the risk. Not wanting to be around to hear Claire get her way, Sofia climbed onto the edge of Damian’s balcony and stretched upward toward the ledge running around the mansion. She yelped as someone grabbed her hips and pulled her from the edge of the balcony.
“What the hell are you doing?” Damian demanded, lowering her to the ground and spinning her to face him. “Are you jumping to your balcony?”
She glared at him in response.
“There’s a door. Use it,” he snapped.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your reunion.”
His eyes narrowed. His body was warm against hers, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.
“God, I’m so stupid!” she growled.
“You’re jealous?” A smile flickered across his face and turned into a laugh. He hugged her against him.
“No, of course not!” she snapped, pushing at him.
“Woman, you’re something else!”
“Damn you, Damian!”
“You’re more welcome in my bed than she is!”
A thrill went through her. Embarrassed at the emotions bubbling within her, she pulled away and folded her arms across her chest, marching into the living room. Claire apparently had left.
“It’s okay, Damian, really. You can do whatever with Claire. Just put a sock on the doorknob or something so I don’t bother you.”
“You are very magnanimous to give me permission to do whatever the fuck I want in my own house,” he said, borderline pissy once more.
“You’re such an ass, Damian!”
“And you’re fucking naïve.”
Her face flamed red. She marched to the doorway.
“Sofi, wait,” Damian called. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not interested in Claire. I’m interested—”
She ignored him and slammed the door behind her, returning to her room, angry and agitated. A breeze made her curtains flutter, and she closed it, certain Claire’s cries of ecstasy would soon fill the air around the mansion.
Her thoughts returned to the dead man alone in the dark room. She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more. Like the night before, he wasn’t going to let her sleep. She read, paced, and finally just lay down to stare at the ceiling until morning came. The sounds of sparring in the courtyard drew no interest this morning. She waited until they stopped and the full light of day streamed into her room before heading to the kitchen.
A short time later, she sagged against the toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked and held her hair. She’d seen Claire in the kitchen and hallway, eating Pop-Tarts, eating chocolate, eating broccoli. So once more, Sofia had tried to eat.
She groaned and held her stomach. Claire could eat! There was no crueler fate in this world than her own!
“Have you tried crackers?” Pierre asked. “Or maybe antidepressants?”
She glared at him.
“We’ve eliminated every other type of food, and the drugs might help you accept that you cannot eat.”
“Bonjour, Pierre.”
At Clair’s soft voice, Sofia wanted to throw up again.
“What’s this?” Claire asked, pausing in the door frame of the bathroom. “Hello, love. I’ve seen you around a lot the past couple of days. Are you one of the help?”
One of the help?! Sofia bit back a retort and forced herself to her feet. The pain in her stomach was almost crippling. She motioned for Pierre to close the door so she could clean up. When she opened it, Claire gazed at her with a look both guarded and surprised.
“How … interesting,” she said with a forced smile, looking at her in reproof. “My, how things change.”
She sashayed away. Sofia looked down at herself. She looked decent in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She wasn’t dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily sparring session. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as smokin’ hot as Claire either. Claire greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and a look so smoldering it made Sofia blush. Damian glanced at the redhead and touched her arm in affectionate greeting.
Sofia drank another glass of water and forced her attention to her list. She had checked off three of the seven exercises she’d learned from the books she read. She was so fatigued, she hurt everywhere.
“Pierre, I’m going to lie down. I’ve lost my will to live today.”
“Very well, ikira,” he said with his usual stoicism. “If you decide to live, let me know.”
“I will.”
He followed the group to the courtyard to spar. Nearly doubled over in pain, Sofia returned to her room. She clutched her stomach as pain pierced her concentration. Darian was crying, and her head hurt.
“Pierre recommended I see you. You are so damn stubborn,” Damian snapped, pushing her door open. “What’s the purpose of starving yourself? Jealousy?”
He closed the door and moved the laptop Pierre had brought her to supplement her Oracle research. He sat on the bed beside her and pushed her onto her back. She strained, but he planted one heavy hand on her chest.
“I’m not sleeping with her, Sofia,” he said and sliced his wrist.
The scent of his blood overwhelmed any objection she could make, and she snatched his arm. She drank heavily and opened her eyes, surprised to see his eyes open and the gold swirling within them. The tick in his jaw belied how tightly his teeth were clamped.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“And?”
“And what?”
“I said I’m not sleeping with her,” he repeated.
“Good for you.”
“Stubborn, infuriating woman.”
“I’m not jealous.” She gazed at him, completely aroused and angry at the same time.
“Bullshit,” he replied.
She rolled onto her stomach away from him, blood flying with desire and heat.
“Gods, woman. In a different time,” he muttered then swore. “When the common sense fairy smacks you upside the head, you know where to find me.”
He left, as pissed as she was. She sighed. It was getting harder and harder to deny what she felt toward him. In the long silence that followed, she heard Darian’s sobs. She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.
“Please stop,” she whispered, wondering if Oracles could go crazy, too.
Unable to be alone with the man in her head, she went to her library. Pierre returned a couple of hours later as she checked off the fourth box on her list of Oracle self-training. He smelled of soap, and his hair was wet.
“You know, the French are the kings and queens of love,” he said and sat in his chair by the door. “I can help you.”
“That’s the last thing I need.”
“You would be more pleasant if you fucked him every once in awhile.”
“Wow, Pierre, that’s the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever heard,” she retorted.
“Forgive me, ikira.” By his tone, he didn’t give a damn what she thought. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We Europeans enjoy a more liberal
form of commitment than you Americans.”
“You sleep around,” she surmised. “I don’t think all of Europe does that. Just you maybe.”
“Yes, and it’s very relaxing.”
“I don’t want to sleep with a bunch of men.”
“You wouldn’t be permitted that freedom, ikira,” he almost scoffed. “But you have one man you can sleep around with.”
“He wants Claire and probably has a private brothel in town. Pierre, I’m some sort of resurrected monster killed by a psychopath. I can’t even eat real food,” she said bitterly. “The last thing I need is to complicate things more.”
“It’s not that bad. Claire?” he tsked. “I would not sleep with her. Damaged goods.”
“Pierre, you can sleep with whomever you want, really.”
“I know. Why do you not ask him?”
“To sleep with me?” she asked.
“Oui.”
Because he would agree. She mulled his proposition and forced her thoughts away from it and her gaze to the paper again.
5. Test ability to control skill on new target. There was one person she wanted to know more about.
“Do you know where Claire is?” she asked.
“Oui.”
“Let’s go.”
He led her from the library, across the courtyard, and into the far wing of the mansion she’d not yet explored. It was a barracks for the Guardians, most of whom greeted her with a quiet good day, ikira as she passed. The wing housed an indoor basketball court, indoor pool, a small game room, and a huge theatre room where music blared from some action movie. Claire sat beside another Guardian, watching the movie. Sofia didn’t have time to plot how to approach her.
“Claire,” Pierre said, stooping to kiss her cheek.
“Bonjour, mon amour,” she purred in response.
“Ikira wanted to meet you.”
Claire rose, the smile freezing on her face as she faced Sofia. Sofia forced her own smile, noticing how Claire’s gaze swept over her as if she were an uninvited insect in her bedroom.
Claire, Darian said again.
I know, Darian! she replied, hoping the man in her head didn’t distract her.