“This . . . ” She took the pendant off. “This is what a man I fell in love with was wearing the day he tore my world apart. This is what reminds me to never trust anyone.”
“Love?” He sneered. “Love is a foolish game that leads a path to hell.”
Chanta stood and cleared her throat as she turned on her heel. “We’re done here. I’ll make a call to Gyth and ask for a replacement.”
Payne stood. “I have not finished and you will sit back down and listen!”
Chanta answered, but did not turn back around to face Payne. “For all I know you are living in some kind of nut-imagined world and think you’re some kind of god instead of the Destroyer that Gyth commands.”
She laughed almost hysterically. Payne watched her grab the back of a chair, stagger, and laugh again. Her scent intensified.
“Yeah . . . you have a god complex!” She pouted, huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest turning to face him. “You know what I think? I think you’re nothing, but a god-want-to-be with an I-am-higher-than-thou attitude! Apparently, you’ve been a Destroyer way too long.”
“Would you be willing to test that particular theory?” he asked dryly.
Chanta took two steps forward. “The only theory I’m willing to test is whether or not you need to find professional help. I’d be glad to get the One Race phone book out and give you a list of numbers to the local shrinks.”
“Your eyes are swirling.” He leaned closer. “Your scent is strong. Soon, the pain will come.”
She swallowed hard, her body getting stiff. “I’ve heard the stories about the Destroyers. How cruel and dangerous they are. I don’t know why Gyth picked you of all the Destroyers, but I’m telling you right now, I’ve faced worse than you could imagine, so get off that dark horse you rode in on and go screw yourself.”
He knew she was a fighter and he so wanted to roll around with her. He cared less that the entire diner was doing a double take of the man who was towering over the girl as if he was about to attack his prey. Taking one step, Payne stood inches from her and her scent slammed into his brain as she flushed from neck to forehead.
Chanta stopped mid-step and gulped. A heat wave blasted out of her body and slapped him in the face. “I . . . ”
Payne felt her temperature skyrocket and sweat popped out across her forehead. She grabbed the closest chair and tried to steady herself. Her legs trembled as she slowly slid into the chair. She groaned as she laid her head on the tabletop.
Payne pulled her to her feet and threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table where they had sat. He ushered her to the door and grinned as he tucked his arm through hers. He felt Brenda get angry and jealous and it pleased him greatly.
As Chanta took a ragged breath she uttered, “Hospital . . . need to go.”
Payne held her to his chest and whispered, “No hospital can help you. You are entering the first stages of the Burning.”
• • •
Terror Sky was leaning on a boulder in the middle of a Kentucky horse farm when Varick appeared at his side. Lines of dogwood trees were in full bloom. The sun had just disappeared and the farm was at its quietest.
“Is there something you wished to speak to me about?”
“It has begun. Chanta has entered the Burning.” Terror Sky crossed his arms, the red braid dangling down to his chest. “As you were before her, she too is at a crossroads, but it isn’t her actions that bear the greatest consequences.”
“Riddles? I thought we were past speaking in those.” Varick watched the clouds as they slid over the moon. “Just tell me, straight up, what I’m supposed to do.”
“Don’t allow Payne to cross over. If you give him his powers back, chances are he will kill his father and become Lord of the Underworld. He will watch Chanta die and his hatred for this world will erupt.” Running his fingers down the braid, Terror Sky sighed. “There are a thousand possible outcomes, but the one that remains the strongest is Chanta’s death.”
“How do I prevent that?”
“I don’t know. Without Jaiden’s books, Isten is unable to stop what is happening. At this point, events must be controlled to the point of breaking free will.” Terror Sky barked out a curse. “Her original destiny was to be Damon’s mate, to bear him a son. That child was to be the Angel’s savior. Now, not only is that child and Damon’s destiny untethered, but so are Chanta’s and Payne’s.”
“Fate and destiny? It’s all nonsense. What’s the point of free will if we are not allowed to choose our own destinies?” Varick slammed his fists onto the boulder cracking it. “And why can’t Isten control what’s happening to the world around us? Why does he need those damn books?”
“Those books control all the gods’ destinies, every single last one of them including all of the descendants. The only fates that they don’t control are Isten and Jaiden.” Terror Sky took a deep breath. “And mine.”
Varick turned to face Terror Sky. “So what in the nine hells are you telling me?”
Terror Sky laughed, a cold harsh laugh that sent a chill down Varick’s spine. “With my help, Isten manipulated Jaiden into creating those books. By creating them, Jaiden gave them part of his power making Isten the most powerful being in this universe.” Varick didn’t say anything, gods were meddlesome and this wasn’t surprising.
“Someone has been changing Jaiden’s words since you were born and somehow they brought Chanta into this world much sooner than she was meant to be. Whoever it is, has created so much chaos in the universe, I can feel the very seams snapping and breaking.” Terror Sky growled, the sound a rumble of thunder. “There’s only one problem with who is behind it.”
“What’s the damn problem?”
“Jaiden is the only god that could change those words.” A purr of anger ripped out of his throat. “He is the only one that could possibly even allow another to do so. They are a part of him as he is a part of them.”
“He’s dead.” Varick paced back and forth. “My grandfather had him slaughtered.”
Thunder rumbled overhead as black smoke filtered up from the ground and Ania stepped out of the blackness. Varick’s fangs elongated instantly.
She held up her delicate hand, her eyebrow shooting up in an arch. “Your grandfather was acting on Isten’s orders.”
“It doesn’t matter who had him killed. He’s dead and according to Terror Sky, no one can change the words in his books except him.” Varick turned to Terror Sky and repeated, “Jaiden is dead.”
Terror Sky’s eyebrow shot up and he shared an exasperated look with Ania. “Jaiden was the most powerful god in all the universes when he fell into Isten’s hands and he was just a babe. Do you really think he’s dead?”
Ania pointed to the braids hanging from Terror Sky and Varick’s temple. “Those are of Jaiden’s will. Before he was slaughtered, he would pick a handful of gods and goddesses that he trusted and relied on. Seems, he has chosen both of you.”
Varick laughed. “So, this meeting is basically initiating me into treason against Isten and Gyth.”
Terror Sky nodded. “But it is much more than that. Payne and Chanta’s destinies were unwritten and I have a feeling that Jaiden is the one rewriting their scripts.”
Ania spoke, her voice dropping an octave, “Jaiden can destroy us all. He is the end all, be all. He is destruction, he is creation. If he knows that Isten and Terror Sky used him to create this world and those books, he will seek revenge.”
Varick closed his eyes. “And Isten will try to destroy Jaiden before that happens. That’s why Isten wants Jaiden’s books.”
Chapter 11
The Tree of Life swayed as the River Styx, an invisible river that divided the Heavens, the earth, and the Underworld, rushed around the island hidden in its depths. Charon looked up into the branches, his face switching from human to skeletal bones. The tree swayed again, its branches reaching down to touch Charon’s robed shoulder.
In the silence, with his eyes closed, Charon tried to re
member his life before becoming the caretaker of the tree. He tried to remember his son. The only images coming to his mind were the books, the tree, and the faces of all those he would have to cross paths with to achieve what he sought.
No, not what he sought. He opened his eyes, realization dawning on him. He was doing what the Book of Creation was ordering him to do. He was a tool, nothing more.
He looked down at the silver trunk of the tree and sighed. The Book of Creation’s cover glowed, a distinct hum of power radiating from within its pages. The other two he had collected began glowing as well, each one desperate to be in their master’s hands. But their master, Jaiden, had been slaughtered in the Heavens, his books scattered across the universe.
Twelve books of knowledge, the Book of Creation, and the Book of Destruction were essential in maintaining the balance of the universe. Jaiden had been the hand that kept the balance according to the words written in those books. But now, so many years after Jaiden had been killed, the books were at unease and the universe was swirling blindly out of control.
Charon had been enlisted by the Book of Creation as its new protector. And he had protected it for many years. Until one day, the book had awakened, called Charon forth and longed for the future the book had been forged to protect.
The ground rumbled as fourteen wooden pedestals erupted from the ground. As they slowly rose, Charon laughed. With great care, he laid the Book of Creation on the first pedestal, the Book of Resurrection on the second, and the Book of Darkness on the third. The Book of Light would need to be placed next. The next nine books would need to be placed after and the final book, The Book of Destruction, would be placed last.
Closing his eyes, he reached out, called to the missing books. The seven that were in the Heavens answered, but remained hidden. The Book of Destruction’s soft lull was barely audible in his mind. His burning red eyes cast a glow as he continued reaching out to the other two books. They were on earth, but they refused to answer, refused to awaken.
But the Book of Light had awoken, the pages ringing out demanding to be answered. His robe fluttered in the soft wind as his hood covered his face. Charon would see to it personally that the book was returned to the Tree of Life.
Not by choice. By command.
• • •
Chanta awoke and sat straight up on her bed. Vivid images of Payne’s hands on her body, plundering in secret places, raced through her foggy mind. Erotic thoughts of chains and biting came to surface as she took a deep ragged breath. She definitely had been dreaming!
She bolted out of the bed and looked around. The light was on in the hallway and she edged to the door. Slowly and with great anticipation, she peeked out into the hallway. She took a deep breath, crept out, and tipped toed down the hall to the front room.
Chanta turned the corner and caught her breath. In the center of her couch sat Payne with all four of her cats curled up on his lap. The big psycho scary guy had a soft spot for cats; now imagine that.
Oh hell, she could imagine more than just that. For instance, she could clearly see his strong powerful hands sliding up her legs and caressing her hips. She groaned softly as she wondered if his lips would still feel like silk against her skin. And if not only to add to her misery, she wondered if he was a gentle or rough lover. Rough, yeah, he would definitely be a lover who knew how to control her passions.
Chanta stopped, looked down at her trembling hands and shaking knees. What passions? She looked at Payne, instantly heat claimed her core. She knew it had to be the Burning that was causing her body such turmoil yet she couldn’t deny how.
She stared at him, felt like she was staring at a wild animal that had been caged and refused to be tamed. And she was the one that had to let that animal out or die if she didn’t.
His head was leaned back against the wall and his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful and asleep, almost content. The hard planes of his face were soft, almost gentle. She edged closer and slid into the black velvet chair that sat across from the couch. She had to admit he was rather good looking with all that black hair and those bulging muscles. Okay, he was flipping right out gorgeous. Groaning again, she tried to imagine him naked on her couch holding out his hands and begging her to come for him.
Shuddering from the erotic havoc dancing in her mind, her body warmed from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She had no doubt that she could get off just by looking at him. And that was downright nuts.
She wondered how often he had to work out to maintain that gorgeous physique. Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at a man without being disgusted. And to her astonishment, a soft smile slid across her lips as she roamed Payne‘s body. She especially liked his hands, clean and neatly maintained and powerful. Her skin glowed and the warmth in her body turned to a devastating heat that spread throughout her limbs making her ache deep inside.
Chanta! You’re doing it again! You’re only torturing yourself. What the hell would someone like him want with someone like you? Devour you? Scare the crap out of you again?
She eyed Payne; he couldn’t be all that bad if her cats had taken a fancy to him.
Chanta licked her lips bringing her fingers to her mouth. He had tasted so good, clean, and powerful. She shivered as she recalled how good it had felt to be in his arms. No, good was not the right adjective; she had felt things she had never felt before. Passion, desire, need, want, and damn if the list wasn’t getting longer by the second.
Which made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Eight years ago, she had literally run from him. But that kiss . . .
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Payne drawled out his words as he blatantly roamed her face for an answer.
His voice was so deep and gritty that Chanta jumped. It was a slow rumble in his chest, like a lion giving off a small warning to any would-be trespassers. It was sexy—too damn hot to be anything but supernatural. “I was just admiring your . . . your ring.”
The lie fell from her lips and her cheeks went red with embarrassment. Well, she couldn’t very well admit that she had been checking him out. She looked at the floor and hoped he believed her.
“You’re lying to me. Don’t worry, most people find me frightening.” He paused. “Do you find me frightening?”
Chanta twisted in the chair and looked up to meet his obsidian eyes. “I don’t find you frightening, just weird as hell.” And sexy as hell.
“You should be very afraid of me.” He grinned, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You were very frightened of me eight years ago.”
“If you were going to harm me, Gyth would not have sent you, so why should I be afraid of you?”
“Because I am the devil’s son.”
That must have been the cue for her cats to start stretching and purring. Chanta grinned. “How am I supposed to find you scary when my cats have all curled up in your lap?”
“Cats are territorial and find comfort in the dark, much the same as I do.”
Chanta lowered her gaze. She had to ask. “Are you territorial also?”
“Yes.”
Chanta watched as he shifted and ran his hand along Jazz’s back. “How did you know where I lived?”
“Your address is on your key ring.”
“Oh.” Her throaty reply rang in her own ears. What was she expecting? He was a Destroyer, a killing machine designed and created for one specific purpose—to protect the One Race and she guessed that included taking members, like her, through the Burning.
Turning her head, she hid the tear that was threatening to slide down her cheek. With a quick swipe, it was gone and she took a deep rattled breath. She wondered just how many women Payne had taken through the Burning. How many women had lain in his gorgeous arms and transformed from human to demi-goddess?
And just why the hell was it bothering her to think of other women in his arms?
Chapter 12
Payne ran his hand through his hair and stared at Chanta’s bare
foot and the birthmark that hovered above her ankle, a purple circle with a crescent moon attached to each side. He had seen the same symbol somewhere else. His memory failed him and he grunted as his eyes slid farther up her leg. The length of it was torture and the scent that was reaching his nose was flaring up desires he didn’t want to face.
He gritted his teeth and frowned as she stood. She was looking better and better each time he saw her. She stretched and he sucked in the air around him as her breasts peeked and her nipples hardened. He would like to see her naked, and he knew that soon he would and a soft grin came to his lips.
Watching her move was a pleasure all its own and he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was going to enjoy this. Yeah, he would indeed, even if it killed him in the end.
She turned and headed back down the hall. “I’m going to take a shower and get this makeup off. Would you be a dear and fix some hot chocolate? The cocoa is in the cabinet above the stove.”
Cocoa? Chocolate? What was she trying to insinuate? Chocolate was an aphrodisiac.
Payne growled, but stood carefully depositing the cats on the couch; he didn’t have the faintest clue how to fix hot chocolate nor had he ever been asked to do such a thing. The fat black cat that had been on his left leg stretched as he purred. Jazz jumped down to the floor and meowed up at Payne as he waltzed by. He walked across the room and went into the small kitchen turning around and meowing to Payne once more.
Payne rolled his eyes and followed the cat’s path to the kitchen. Jazz pawed at the refrigerator and Payne opened the door. The cat rubbed against Payne’s leg and meowed again. Scanning the contents of the refrigerator, he found a gallon of milk.
Okay, so he had the milk, now what?
He twisted the cap off and poured some into the bowl that was sitting in the floor in front of the stove. The cat happily lapped at the cold liquid as Payne reached into the cabinet and pulled out the can of cocoa. He carefully read the instructions on the side of the can.
It seemed easy enough. He looked around the tiny room trying to find a microwave. The directions called for a microwave, but none was to be found in this kitchen. He eyeballed the pan that sat in the dish drain beside of the sink.
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