by I. T. Lucas
Anandur let go of Roni. "Good luck, kid."
Kian waited for Anandur to step away before addressing the immortals standing around the wrestling mat. "We are gathered here to present this fine young man to his elders. Roni is ready to attempt his transformation. Again. I vouch for him personally and so does Anandur, as well as William. Who volunteers to take on the burden of initiating Ronald into his immortality?"
A burden? He was no burden on anybody. If anything, he was a valuable asset.
Kian leaned closer. "Those are ceremonial words. Nothing personal. Besides, whoever induces your transition will become responsible for you. So yeah, he'd better like you."
That limited his options. Roni had been trying to behave better toward the immortals than he had toward the agents, but old habits died hard. He was still a snarky, abrasive dude with an attitude.
"I do." Brundar stepped forward.
Oh, man. This wasn't good. Brundar was the guy everyone was afraid of. But on the other hand, he owed Roni quite a few favors.
Kian turned to him. "Ronald, do you accept Guardian Brundar as your initiator? As your mentor and protector, to honor him with your friendship, your respect, and your loyalty from now on?"
Having Brundar, the lethal assassin, as his protector wasn't a bad deal. It was worth a few scary moments. After all, the guy owed him, so he wasn't going to kill him, right? Besides, Brundar was rumored to have exceptional self-control.
"I do."
"Good choice," Kian said. "Any objections?"
No one spoke up, but a few people shook their heads.
"Does everyone agree these two are a good match?"
As Anandur started clapping, the rest joined him. Apparently, everyone agreed Brundar was a good choice.
Kian smiled and waved at a short guy in a suit holding a tray to come closer. "As everyone agrees it's a good match, let's seal it with a toast." He waited for the dude in the suit to distribute small wine glasses to everyone, including Roni and Kian. When everyone was holding a glass, Kian lifted his. "To Ronald and Brundar."
Again, several people cheered while others whistled, and the short guy collected the empty glasses.
"Gentlemen, take your positions," Kian instructed, then stepped off the mat.
Here goes.
Roni didn't run off only because he was paralyzed with fear. It was irrational, he knew Brundar might hurt him but he was not going to cause him any lasting damage. Except, the response was instinctive—prey didn't wait around for a predator to attack. It ran.
"Don't be scared, kid," Brundar said in a hissing but calm voice. "You don't even need to fight me. I produce venom on command."
Roni straightened from the defensive pose he'd been crouched in. "Someone could've told me that. I almost pissed in my pants."
Anandur laughed. "You have to admire a guy who has the guts to admit that. You have balls, kid."
Funny, Roni thought that he had just announced he had none.
Ignoring the spectators, he asked Brundar, "What do you want me to do?"
"Turn your back to me. It will be less frightening that way."
"I'm not afraid of the bite, just of fighting someone like you."
Brundar's expression changed back to his usual stern demeanor. "Do as you're told, Roni."
Wow, scary dude should be obeyed without question. Roni pivoted on his heel before Brundar finished the sentence.
The Guardian was on him in a blink of an eye, one hand holding Roni's head, the other clamped over his shoulder. The bite came a split second later. By now, Roni knew what to expect, and it didn't even feel as painful as the two other times. A moment later, the pain disappeared, and the euphoria took over.
Roni felt his body go lax, and he would have collapsed on the mat if not for Brundar's strong arm holding him upright.
As the Guardian kept pumping him with venom, Roni had the fleeting thought that too much of it could kill him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
A moment later the lights behind his closed eyelids dimmed, and everything turned black.
Chapter 29: Tessa
"Is everyone seated?" the bus driver asked. It was the same guy who'd taken her and Jackson to see the village before—Kian's butler.
From her seat at the front, Tessa turned her head and watched as the last few immortals found their seats. The tour bus was full to capacity and buzzing with excitement.
For the others, it was their first visit to the village.
Just like in the limousine they had ridden before, the windows in the new bus were opaque, but unlike that first time, Tessa didn't feel claustrophobic. Perhaps because it was roomier, or maybe because this time, over forty other immortals were going with her and Jackson.
"Did you lovebirds pick a house the last time you took a tour of the village?" Gordon asked.
Jackson turned back and glared at his friend. "If we had, we wouldn't be taking the tour with you guys."
"But you saw the place already," Vlad said.
"So what? We just looked. We didn't choose a house."
"Why not?" Gordon asked.
Tessa tuned them out and pulled her phone out of her purse, pretending to browse through a fashion magazine. Her memories from that visit were mixed.
The place was beautiful, and she would gladly move into one of those brand new, beautiful houses with Jackson. Except, that unpleasant episode in the walk-in closet was one she wished to forget.
It had been a misunderstanding, she'd only thought Jackson was disgusted by her, but the real reason for his loss of arousal had not been much better. His pity had made her feel almost as dirty.
Crap. She really didn't need the reminder.
Most days, Tessa felt great, it was like she'd been reborn as a new woman, but from time to time the past found a way to catch up with her, gripping her gut and twisting it painfully.
There was no escape.
She'd become adept at quick redirection of focus, like browsing for clothes she had no intention of buying, or reading one of the many books she had stored on her phone's reading application. For Jackson's sake, she had to channel her thoughts toward more pleasant subjects before her scent betrayed her unease and made him worry.
As far as Jackson was concerned, she was healed. He had done his part, accomplishing the impossible and helping her out of her self-imposed stasis.
She could handle the occasional flashback on her own.
"Did you see a house you liked, Tessa?" Gordon asked.
Reluctantly, she turned back and forced a smile. "They are all beautiful. Ideally, I want to be close to Eva, so I hope the houses next to hers and Bhathian's are not taken."
"When are they moving in?" Vlad asked. "I heard that the couples are moving in first."
"Not Eva and Bhathian," Tessa said. "Eva is waiting for Sharon and Nick to find mates and transition. She doesn't want to move unless they can move into the village as well."
"What's going on with that? Any news?" Jackson asked.
"Sharon told me that she likes Robert and thinks that he likes her back, so there might be a match there. But Nick has no takers yet."
"No wonder," Jackson snickered. "The guy is hopeless. He doesn't know the first thing about flirting. I bet he is still a virgin."
"You should give him pointers," Gordon suggested. "After all, you're Jackson the great."
Jackson bowed his head. "Thank you, but that's all in the past. I'm off the market for good." He took Tessa's hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss.
Vlad flipped his bangs back to look at Jackson with both eyes, the blue and the green. "Being mated doesn't mean you forgot the art. You can still teach it to us less gifted guys."
Tessa had a feeling Vlad was still a virgin too. He was too shy to flirt and most girls found him unattractive. Their loss. Tessa thought he was one of the nicest people she'd ever met. Unfortunately, he was tall and spindly and lacked the sex appeal most immortal males carried naturally. His Goth style wasn't helping hi
s cause either.
Jackson shook his head. "I have a better chance of teaching you than Nick. You at least know that you need help. Nick thinks he's got it."
Gordon lifted a finger. "I have an idea. What about Ruth? She is kind of awkward too. They might hit it off."
"Who is Ruth?" Tessa asked.
"Sylvia's mom. Nathalie and I hired her to help at the café. Hopefully, once Gordon and Vlad leave for college, she can take over and make do with human employees."
Tessa turned back to look at Gordon. "You want Nick to hook up with Sylvia's mom? He is only twenty-two."
Gordon shrugged. "So what? Age is irrelevant as far as immortals go."
"What about maturity? Life experience?"
Vlad put his long-fingered hand on the back of her chair. "I don't think it makes a difference. After a certain age, when people's character is fully developed, they don't change much. Humans have no choice because their bodies age and they have to adjust their thinking to what they look like and what they can and cannot do, but immortals stay kind of frozen in place."
It was an interesting observation.
Bhathian acted just a little older than his looks suggested, and the same was true for Eva. There were also the cultural influences of the era they'd grown up in, but all in all, they behaved like young people, probably because they could.
"I could bring him over," Tessa said. "I'll make up some excuse why I want to have dinner with him. If there is a spark, they will take it up from there." She cast a fond glance at Jackson. "Do you remember the first time I saw you at the café?"
He smiled, his eyes so full of love that they made her heart flutter. "How can I forget?" He squeezed her hand. "One look at you and I knew I had to get to know you, that there was something special about you, and that I would never forgive myself if I let you get away. Eva pounced on me like a ferocious tiger mama, and made all kinds of threats, thinking I was just looking for a hookup. It took me a long time to convince her I was a good guy, and that I wasn't going to hurt her baby girl."
Tessa had no problem imagining Eva doing that. "She is very protective of us. She thinks of me and Sharon and Nick as her kids."
Vlad leaned forward, bracing his arms on the back of their chair and resting his chin on them. "How about you, Tessa? Did you feel something for Jackson?"
Tessa rolled her eyes. "Duh, just look at him." She waved a hand over the magnificent male sitting next to her.
"I mean, other than his looks. Did you feel anything in your heart?"
That was a question she couldn't answer truthfully. Gordon and Vlad didn't know about her past, and she wanted to keep it that way. To admit that she'd been too terrified of male attention to feel good about Jackson's interest would have betrayed her.
She shrugged. "I thought a guy like him would never even notice a girl like me. And when he hinted at wanting to get to know me, I thought I was imagining it. But you know Jackson, he is persistent. I guess he saw it as a challenge."
"So you didn't know right away that he was the one?"
Tessa shook her head. "But I was in denial. If I were more confident, I might have acknowledged the connection because it was there from the very start."
Leaning back in his seat, Vlad smiled as if she'd given him the answer he'd been hoping for. "That's what I thought. If I ever want to find my one truelove mate, I need to know what to look for."
Gordon chuckled. "Fat chance, buddy. Not all of us were born under a lucky star like Jackson."
Vlad ignored his friend's sarcasm. "I know it's going to happen for me one day. I feel it in here." He put his hand on his chest.
Chapter 30: Turner
"Would you care for a drink, sir?" The first-class flight attendant smiled, her white teeth gleaming beautifully against her tanned skin.
"No, thank you. I'll have another cappuccino."
"Of course." She smiled again, expecting a reaction from him, then hiding her disappointment when there was none.
But as beautiful as the woman was, she paled in comparison to Bridget.
Turner had never before experienced the kind of passion Bridget inspired, and the one time he’d had her was enough to turn him into an addict.
A week away from his feisty redhead doctor had proven to be an unexpected challenge, but the trip to South America had been unavoidable.
If it were anyone other than Arturo Sandoval, Turner would have managed the operation from his offices in Los Angeles, but Arturo was the kind of client who demanded personal attention. Dealing with an underling, or even worse, a subcontractor would have been perceived as a slight.
Especially when the extraction mission involved Sandoval's nephew. Arturo needed to send a message to his rivals and any future upstarts that he didn't pay extortion money.
Except, he had to do so while preserving his public image, which he managed by hiring foreign private operators.
To have his loved ones returned to him, Sandoval eliminated with extreme prejudice anyone who dared take what was his.
Turner approved.
In Third World countries, power was the universal language everyone spoke. A mighty show of violence was the best way to prevent future bloodshed that would have eclipsed the brutal attack Turner had coordinated by order of magnitude.
The message had been sent.
The nephew was back home, though Turner had a feeling the guy wasn't exactly safe. Arturo would make sure his nephew never repeated the mistake that had gotten him in trouble in the first place.
It had been an intense week that had left Turner little time to work on his new pet project. In fact, the only progress he had made was securing Sandoval's promise to assist. Not that Turner had said anything about his plan to extract the girls. That needed to remain confidential. What he'd shared with the guy was the magnitude of this worldwide plague and the need for governments to stop pretending that the problem didn't exist and do something about it.
Building awareness was the first step.
Sandoval had agreed to contribute financially. The rehabilitation side of the equation was no less important than the extractions, and building schools and shelters for the girls was going to cost more than even the clan could afford as a charitable contribution.
Even better, Arturo promised to talk to his powerful friends and business associates and get them on board as well.
A win-win.
By taking on the humanitarian project, Sandoval would gain a much-needed boost in public approval, and the clan would not have to shoulder the monumental undertaking on its own.
The unexpected offer of support from Arturo had given Turner the idea to repeat that with his other influential customers. Except, he couldn't contact them directly and just ask for money. The way it happened with Sandoval was much better. The guy had volunteered his help without any prompting. Perhaps having four teenage daughters of his own had something to do with that.
Turner felt like sharing the good news with Bridget.
Opening his laptop, he typed her a quick message. On my way back. You will be glad to know that my friend is very interested in our project and is offering financial help.
A moment later a return message arrived.
I got the test results from your doctor. Can you come see me when you get back? Or do you need to go home and crash?
The advantage of flying first class was arriving fully rested after a good night’s sleep. It would be early afternoon when he landed. Plenty of time to go home, shower, stop by the office, and then go over to Bridget's.
Adding the time required for each task in his head, he fired off another text. Provided there are no delays, I can be there at six-thirty.
Great. I'll see you later.
When the flight attendant returned with his cappuccino, Turner put the laptop away.
"Thank you." He treated her to a lukewarm smile, which was more than he usually bothered with. He was polite, but not friendly. People didn't linger to chat once he let them know they were dismissed
.
So why did it bother him that Bridget hadn't said anything personal to him the entire week? Or mentioned the phenomenal sex they had shared?
He had called her a few times under the pretext of needing her input on the presentation he was preparing for Kian, and each time she'd been helpful and professional. Once or twice she'd politely inquired about the weather and how he was feeling, but that could have been the doctor asking, not the woman.
She'd seemed cold, remote.
Had he imagined what had happened between them?
Was he just another hookup to her?
Bridget had been quite upfront, telling him about her history of picking up random guys for sex. To her, he might have been just another one-night stand in a long line of meaningless encounters.
Turner looked out the window even though there was nothing to see. The guy next to him was sleeping and snoring loudly, an unavoidable discomfort even while flying first class. It was good that he'd brought along his noise-canceling headphones.
That night, after the incredible sex they'd shared, Turner had fallen asleep in Bridget's bed. A first for him. He wondered whether he'd bothered her by snoring.
Did he snore? The last time he'd shared sleeping quarters with others was in the army, but no one had told him whether he did or not.
Sometimes small things like this made him realize how isolated his life was. Most of the time he didn't think about it. He was comfortable. There was no need to change anything.
He should be grateful that Bridget didn't attach much meaning to the sex they had shared. Other than his body, he had nothing to offer her, and if he didn't transition, pretty soon that wouldn't be on the table either.
Turner was in fantastic shape for his age, but even without the cancer that wasn't going to last long. In a few years, a decade at most, his body would start its inevitable decline. Bridget was too smart to allow herself to get emotionally attached to a mortal.
Chapter 31: Bridget
As she waited for Turner to arrive, Bridget stood by the glass doors leading to her balcony, looking into the distance at the slowly sinking sun while contemplating mortality.