War of Gods Box Set

by Ford, Lizzy

  Uneasily, she realized this was what the war would do to the mortal world. Jenn hesitated, guilty she’d indulged herself to visit a place she shouldn’t instead of protecting the world she was sworn to preserve.

  But she didn’t look back. Not now. She was close to her goal. She trotted through the streets, making her way through rubble and debris to the park in the center of the city. She vaulted over a low stone wall, landing with a crunch in the dead grass on the other side. The park was over a mile on each side, hedged by a wall. There had been trees and bushes in her time, but none of them remained. Even the stone pathway winding through the stone obelisks was either buried in dirt or missing. Many of the stone obelisks were gone or broken.

  Her heart beat faster as she followed a familiar path through the obelisks. She stopped in front of one at last, taking in the cuneiform writing. Each obelisk listed the members of an immortal household and their offspring. Servants—which her father and mother had been—were listed on the House of their immortal lords. This immortal House had been somewhat lowly on the immortal totem pole, evidenced by the fact it was a third the height of most of the others.

  Jenn squatted to find the servants’ portion of the records. She wiped dirt from the grooves of the cuneiform.

  “Midu, Tanna,” she read the names of her parents out loud. Her gaze followed her finger as she rested it on her name below theirs. She touched the two names beside hers. “Finian, Talia.”

  The name of her long-dead daughter was the end of her family’s lineage. Thousands of years later, Jenn could still see her daughter’s brown eyes and curls. She released a deep sigh, finger lingering on the names from her past. For all her ability to manipulate the minds of others, she couldn’t push the memory of her family from her own thoughts. She’d buried them under the callus she’d grown around her emotions.

  She sat in front of the obelisk, staring at all that remained of her family history. The Schism hadn’t changed everything; she’d thrown everything away. Her marriage was arranged. Unable to love her husband, she’d taken it out on the one who meant the most to her, Talia.

  Pulling a knife free, she dug into the dry ground, not expecting to find the treasure she’d buried so long ago. To her regret, it was there: the leather necklace and its silver symbol that had marked her family line. She’d given it to Talia before she left then reclaimed it after the first wave of the Schism ripped through the Immortal world.

  Jenn didn’t let herself remember the sights and sounds of that day. No one knew the Schism was coming when she stormed out of the house that fateful morning. She’d left them both to pursue a position among the Guardians, so she could start a new life in the mortal world.

  “I got my wish,” she murmured.

  When the world began to crumble, she returned to find the house in ruins and the body of her dead daughter in the arms of her father-in-law. If she’d stayed, she might’ve died with them. Or maybe she could’ve saved them.

  I’ll never know. Sadness had long since waned, leaving only a hole that’d never be filled. She’d sworn never to be vulnerable again or to become emotionally involved with anyone.

  Darian and Jonny were cracks in her armor. She’d taken pity on both men who lost their own families and ended up feeling more than she ever wanted to again. She wasn’t about to go through losing someone she cared about or letting Darian go through his loss again.

  Feeling raw, Jenn rose. She retraced her steps until she reached the tall walls outside of the orchard. Scaling the wall once again, she dropped to her feet and was still for a long moment, using her senses to see if anyone was there. Though she sensed nothing, she’d never know an Other was there until he’d zapped her. She moved cautiously through the well-maintained orchard, back to the tree marked by the rocks.

  Her gaze flickered towards the other end of the orchard, where the White God’s palace had been. She couldn’t see it through the rows of trees.

  Next time, she told herself and circled the tree. The ground dropped out from under her, and she arrived back into the mortal world. The loss of the magic from the immortal world made her feel slow and heavy as she took her first few steps. Though her trip had taken more than two hours on the immortal side, less than an hour had passed in the mortal world. She Traveled back to Jonny’s, appearing in her room.

  Wired and agitated, Jenn left for the gym. She stripped down in the locker room and tossed her shirt over the animal head in the bottom of her locker. Not caring how many vamps might be in the gym, she entered and took up her favorite spot and began channeling her emotions into the punching bag.

  Awhile later, someone’s voice broke her concentration.

  “Look what I got.”

  Jenn straightened, not yet ready to leave the gym. Her necklace felt cool against her warm chest, a reminder of a memory she wished she hadn’t reopened.

  “Five of them!” Darian’s voice held a note of triumph.

  She turned to see him hauling a garbage bag. Darian’s golden eyes pulsed and swirled with battle fever. He was bloodied and his clothing shredded. She couldn’t tell how much of the blood on him was his.

  “I figured it out.”

  “How to fight more than one without getting fried?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It’s not as hard as I expected. Almost got my ass kicked again before I figured it out. I brought these back for Jonny.”

  “I don’t want to know,” she said, gaze lingering on the garbage bag. She glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. “Jonny’s probably hunting now.”

  “I figured I’d leave these in his bed for him,” Darian said with a wink. “Seems to be the custom around here.”

  “You do that.” Jenn turned away. The vulnerability she felt in the immortal world lingered. She didn’t like it. She’d kill as many punching bags as she could, until she was numb to the world again. She’d almost managed to return to the zone when Darian gripped the chain at the top of the punching bag, stabilizing it before her and disrupting the swaying rhythm.

  “Something happened,” he said, gazing at her with the intensity that disturbed her.

  “Leave me alone for a bit.”

  “Wanna spar? Kicking my ass always makes you feel better.”

  Jenn hesitated. Sparring with Darian kept her mind busy, for the Grey God was unpredictable in the ring. At the same time, she wanted him away from her.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said at her silence. “I just … let me get the blood off before the vamps start circling.” Darian stepped away to a towel rack. He peeled off his shredded shirt and wiped himself down with a towel.

  Jenn’s gaze took in his lean body. There was no part of him that was soft, from the chiseled abs and hips to his thick biceps. His was a body that had been honed until all that stood between muscle and air was a thin coat of skin. She’d always had an eye for a man with a body, and Darian’s was perfect.

  As if sensing her look, Darian turned. He met her gaze, his intense look steady. Jenn felt warmth bloom in her body in response to his stare.

  It’s not going to happen, she told herself, striding to the ring. She wasn’t going down the path Xander said was hers. Darian was a god, one betrayed by the only woman he’d ever loved. She was the last in a long line of servants. Even if her position among the Guardians was among the highest levels, she still considered herself a slave to her duty. She tried to tell herself this was why she couldn’t let them get close. As good as she was a lying to others, she didn’t believe herself.

  “Go easy on me,” he said, entering the ring with her, sans shirt and shoes. “I just took on five Others. You can have the first—”

  Jenn didn’t wait for him to finish but launched a kick straight for his head. Darian ducked, eyeing her as he moved away.

  “Someone’s not playing today,” he murmured. “All right, c’mon.”

  The words had barely left his mouth when Jenn launched a quick sequence Xander helped her perfect. He’d taught her a few things du
ring the two weeks he toyed with her, among them, how to combine her flexibility and speed into something more lethal. He’d taught her to dance in the ring to outmaneuver the seven-foot vamp’s hard strikes.

  “Nice!” Darian breathed, reacting to the quick succession. He missed one strike, and she pulled the punch, not wanting to hurt him despite her anger.

  Where Xander used brute force to subdue an opponent, Darian was wily. The moment she paused, he pounced, reminding her of just how fast he was. Jenn adjusted her stance, keeping more of a distance from him than she would Xander to give her more time to react. Darian pierced her defenses twice. She braced herself for the blows before recalling he’d never struck her full force. Unlike Xander.

  They sparred hard for several moments, until Darian’s upper body carried a sheen of sweat. He eased back so they could both catch their breaths.

  “You’ve learned a few things,” he said.

  “Darian, I swear you’ve gotten even faster.”

  “You’ve gotten slower.”

  She glared at him.

  “I don’t mean that how it came out,” he said quickly. “What I mean is that the world moves more slowly. I don’t know how else to explain it, except it’s how I beat the Others, too.”

  “It makes sense. You have more magic now. It’ll react differently with your natural abilities.”

  “You move differently,” he said, gaze sweeping up and down her frame.

  “Xander taught me how to use my body.”

  Darian’s gaze flew up to her face. “He did what?”

  “You know,” she said with a wink, unable to resist the urge to mess with him a little. “You ready for round two?”

  “How did he teach you to use your body?”

  Jenn almost laughed at his sudden intensity, both flattered and terrified to see just how interested in her he was. The part of her job she’d never tell people: Sometimes she loved messing with the dangerous men she spent her life around. Instead of answering, she lashed out at him, following her kick sequence with an elbow to his chest. Darian deflected it and dropped his hip, sweeping her legs out from under her.

  Jenn shifted her weight and rolled into a somersault, leaping up before he could pin her. Darian anticipated her first kick and snatched it, sweeping her off her feet again and falling with her this time to keep her from escaping. Jenn broke his first chokehold and elbowed him in the back of the neck, this time at near full-strength. She expected the blow to faze the Grey God, but it didn’t. He reacted too fast for her to counter, snatching her forearms and shoving her onto her stomach. His weight kept her from moving.

  “Don’t tell me you slept with him,” he said, his hot breath on her cheek.

  “It’s what I do, Darian. You know that,” she snapped. “You’re two seconds away from me kicking your ass.”

  “Make it sixty. I’m enjoying this too much.”

  So am I. She didn’t know where the thought came from. His magic warmed her from the inside out, the gentle current spreading through her body the longer they remained in contact. She’d sparred with Darian hundreds of times and never noticed the way he smelled or the heat of his body against hers. They both breathed hard from their battle. His breath tickled her neck and sent shivers through her body.

  “I’m serious, Darian,” she warned again. “Two seconds. One.”

  “I surrender,” he said without moving. “I’d rather die here than elsewhere.”

  “Two.”

  “If—”

  She snapped her head back and felt it crack him in the nose. Darian muttered a curse and rolled off her, gripping his nose. Breathless, Jenn pushed herself into a sit. The Grey God’s broken nose bled for only a second before the wound healed.

  They stared at each other.

  “Xander didn’t pull punches, Darian. I learned to move differently so I could survive. I had no choice.”

  “Wrong,” he said firmly. “You could’ve told Damian you were in danger. Or me.”

  “Ikir Damian would’ve understood danger is part of my job,” she said, rising. “I’m going to take a quick shower and catch some sleep. Jonny should be back soon. He’ll want to see what you brought him.”

  Jenn left him in the gym and trotted through the halls and up the stairs. She was wired with a different kind of energy after the sparring session, one that made her remember all too clearly how she’d felt under his body.

  Definitely not a good sign. She ducked into her room.

  “Jenn.”

  She stopped and stepped back into the hallway, too preoccupied to notice Jonny standing in front of his door. His gaze swept over her body, lingering on her breasts, and she wished she’d stopped by the locker room to pull on a shirt instead of racing to get away from Darian.

  “Hello, Jonny,” she greeted him.

  “Yes.” He continued to gaze at her, his eyes showing the same fire Darian’s had when he returned from killing Others. Only Jonny’s was a high borne of blood and sex. She could smell both on him.

  “I’ve gotta get cleaned up, then I can find you to talk,” she offered.

  “I love the way you smell when you’ve worked out.” Jonny approached her until he stood toe-to-toe with her, gaze taking in her body. She saw his upper lip swell as his teeth grew, stimulated by lust. “It makes your skin glow.”

  Jenn pooled her mind control power and released it. Jonny flinched, took a step back, then focused again on her. With a sinking stomach, Jenn admitted she had less than a day of influence left on the Black God. The mental blow would’ve destroyed a human’s mind and scrambled a Guardian’s indefinitely. Jonny barely registered it.

  “I’ve always admired you,” he said. The dark lust was gone, though his gaze still carried too much interest. “Until now, you’ve been stronger than I. I feel that will change soon.”

  “Darian killed five Others and brought you their heads,” she said calmly, unwilling to react to his words. “Maybe he knows what they’re doing.”

  “Five?” Jonny asked. “Wow.”

  “You need to know what he found out,” she told him, shoving the rest of her magic at him.

  “I need to know what he found out,” he echoed, gaze going to the stairwell.

  “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” Jenn stepped aside. The Black God hesitated one more time before striding forward.

  She went into her doorless room and into the bathroom, sagging against the closed door. It was almost two in the morning. She’d be lucky to get any sleep with the vamps hovering over her and before facing one god no longer under her influence and another with a wild streak that might get them all killed.

  Jenn wiped her face. Her hand went to the symbol around her neck. Whatever happened, she chose her path long ago. She was strong enough to get through this. Maybe. If Jonny or the Others didn’t kill her.

  She took a cold, three-minute shower and then dressed. Her emotions still felt too close to the surface; exhaustion would only make them worse. She needed a little sleep while the vamps were out hunting. She trotted down the stairs to her window and paused. Darian sat on one of the couches. Her pile of blankets was folded next to him.

  “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she asked.

  “Even I need a break,” he replied. “Killing five Others is no joke.”

  Jenn looked at him. He did look beat, though still wary of the vamps lingering in the shadows of the great room. She picked up a pillow and two blankets, spreading one on the floor a foot from the window before plopping her pillow down.

  “Hope you dressed warm,” she said, sitting. She pulled on her knit hat and braced her bag of weapons between her body and the window before lying down on her back. “It gets chilly here.”

  “Body warmth,” he replied and joined her, lying beside her.

  He was warm, she admitted. His magic filled the space around them, bending light and shadows in a way she found as mesmerizing as flames or the falling snow.

  “D and I used to camp out on
the beach when we were little,” Darian said. “You ever do that?”

  “The life of a god and a servant were very different,” she replied. “I was put to work before I turned eight.”

  “You must have some good memory of the immortal world.”

  Her thoughts were on her family. She touched the necklace at her throat, the hole within her growing. She wondered what a life surrounded by those with the luxury to care for one another was like. She’d seen Sofi and Damian together, their love and attachment. When Dusty found Bianca, she swore she’d seen a miracle, for the master assassin was the last person in either world she’d ever have thought would fall to something like love.

  Love, after all, was nothing more than being vulnerable and waiting for someone to hurt her. At least, she’d thought this until Dusty succumbed to it. The day she’d met Bianca, she’d known Dusty would know unconditional love from the Healer.

  Jenn had felt alone after that day but thrilled nonetheless. Dusty deserved happiness after all he’d been through. But she … she didn’t want what came with that kind of happiness. Loss of independence, complete surrender, placing her fate in another’s hands.

  She’d never be able to trust someone with everything or find her equal the way Damian and Dusty had found theirs. She’d give anything to be treated as Sofi and Bianca were: as treasured partners. She was too different, though, too independent. She’d never found someone with her mental toughness, someone who could challenge her. Someone who could love her and understand how important it was that she remained her own person. No man she’d ever been with could tolerate the part of her that refused to be caged.

  Some small part of her yearned to feel that sense of unconditional safety and affection. But doing so also meant sacrificing her independence and the risk of losing everything that meant something to her, a potential lifetime of pain. Again. It wasn’t worth it.

  “I take it that’s a no.”

  “No, I don’t,” she whispered. “Considering what happened to you there, I don’t know how you can look at it with any kind of fondness.”

  “It’s where my family was and where I grew up. Damian, our father and mother. Trust me, I need all the good memories I can keep,” he said, a dark note in his voice.