Dark Stranger Immortal (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 3)

by I. T. Lucas

  This left only one thing she could think of. Grasping at the necklace Andrew had given her on her sixteenth birthday, she opened the tiny clasp and took it off.

  “If I’m to accept this gift from you, then you have to accept this from me. This necklace was a gift from my brother Andrew, and since the day I got it I never left home without it. It’s not nearly as valuable as what you gave me, but if you believe objects get imbued with their owner’s essence, then this necklace has the most essence I have ever imparted on any one thing. I regret the fact that it isn’t worth even a fraction of what your gift is. My only consolation is that when you wear it, you’ll carry some of me with you.” She took Amanda’s hand and pressed the delicate chain with its small heart pendant into her palm.

  “Thank you. I’m going to wear it always, just the way you did…” Amanda wrapped the chain around her neck and closed the clasp. When she was done adjusting the diamond-encrusted heart to lie in the hollow of her neck, she swiped a finger under each of her teary eyes. “Come here…” She opened her arms, inviting Syssi to step into another embrace.

  Standing in each other’s arms, they were both sniffling. It felt good, though, to acknowledge this bond between them.

  Syssi wondered what was it that had brought them so close together in such a short time. Was it the love they shared for Kian? Or was it the fact that they were both survivors of similar tragedies?

  Or maybe it was the attraction of opposites?

  On the surface of things, they had nothing in common; different looks, different temperaments, different values. They didn’t even belong to the same species for goodness sake. Except, it seemed like they were both in desperate need of a good friend.

  CHAPTER 9: ANDREW

  Ready to be done for the day, Andrew closed the Maldives case file when his phone rang.

  He frowned. An unknown caller? No one besides a select few that were already on his contacts list was supposed to have this number. On an impulse, he accepted the call instead of letting it go to voice mail. “Yes?” he barked.

  “Is it a bad time? You sound busy.”

  “Syssi, I thought you were a wrong number… No, not busy at all, what’s up?”

  As it was, Andrew still had no new leads on that damned case. He had searched everything he could think of; going through the registration records of every hotel, motel, and inn he had access to. Which, unless they were not connected to the internet, meant everything with rooms for rent in the greater Los Angeles area. He had even gone as far as checking every group of four men or more registering at the same time, and when that had produced zilch, he’d narrowed it down to three.

  The twelve had disappeared without a trace. If they were still somewhere around LA, they were most likely staying at someone’s private residence. Unless they got themselves into some kind of trouble, he would have no way of locating them.

  “Just wanted to give you my new cellphone number and tell you that I’m still at Amanda’s, working on that report.”

  “I thought you were calling from a blocked landline. Why didn’t you keep your old cell number?” Andrew’s bullshit-radar switched on, its red alert light blinking like crazy. “What aren’t you telling me, Syssi?”

  The sigh she’d heaved had him jack upright in his chair and tighten his grip on the phone. What kind of trouble had she gotten herself into?

  “I didn’t want to worry you… but Amanda’s lab was ransacked a couple of nights ago. That’s why we are working at her place instead of the lab.”

  “We’ll get to why you didn’t tell me about this before, after you explain what the hell this has to do with you changing your phone number.” Pushing up from his chair, Andrew began pacing around.

  When instead of providing an explanation she sighed again, he felt like punching someone. Except, with no ready candidates lined up, he ended up smashing his fist into the concrete wall and bruising his knuckles instead. “Talk!” he grated. If she sighed one more time, he was driving over there and shaking the truth out of her.

  Did she think to coddle him?

  “It was a hate crime. A group of religious fanatics that think Amanda’s research has some occult ramifications. They stole a list of her test subjects; the ones with paranormal abilities. I was at the top of that list, and Amanda was afraid they’d come after me, as well as one of the other high ranked talents. That’s why both of us are staying at her family’s place. I had to get rid of my phone so they will have no way of tracking me…”

  “And it didn’t cross your mind to call me? Who’s better equipped to protect you? Amanda or I? I can’t believe you acted so irresponsibly. And what are the police doing about it?” Striding back to his desk, Andrew sat down and booted up his terminal.

  “The police are investigating, but they think it’s just a malicious prank. And I didn’t come to you because there was no need. Amanda’s place is in a highly secure building, as in Fort Knox secure. You have nothing to worry about. And besides, if I stayed with you, I wouldn’t be able to continue my work with her, and as you are well aware, I do need to work for a living.” Syssi huffed as if to say; ‘you see? I was completely reasonable’.

  “Even so, you could have let me know. You know the resources available to me…”

  “I know, I’m sorry. But really, there is no need for you to get involved in this. I’m sure the whole thing will blow over in a few days.”

  “I’ll look into it and see what I can do. Bummer, though…”

  “Yeah, I know. There are some crazy loons out there.”

  “That too, but that’s not what I’m bummed about. I was hoping you were shacking up with a guy and covering it up… It’s about time you got something going on.”

  CHAPTER 10: SYSSI

  Syssi took a fortifying breath before plunging headfirst into the deep. “Amanda does have a brother…”

  “I knew it!” Andrew chuckled before switching into his interrogator mode. “And how is that brother of hers?”

  “He is fine, like in really fine. But there’s nothing for you to get all worked up about. There is not much to tell.” Syssi cringed. If lighting indeed struck liars, I would be a smoking husk right now.

  “I want to meet him.” Andrew got that resolute tone that meant he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “I just met him, for God’s sake. Perfect way to scare the guy off… Oh, by the way, my big brother wants to give you the third degree… Really, it’s nothing to worry about, just an interrogation from hell—the kind reserved for suspected terrorists and serial killers… Not going to happen, Andrew. I don’t want it to be over before it even began.”

  I’d better step aside to avoid that lightning when it strikes me where I stand…

  “Okay, okay… You’ve got a point…,” he conceded. “So, how about you introduce me to this Amanda I keep hearing about? I can question her instead… You were nagging me to meet her anyway, true?”

  He got her there. Now she couldn’t refuse.

  “I can arrange something with Amanda, but no questions! And I mean it! You’re not going to embarrass me in front of my boss who happens also to be my best friend.” Syssi was surprised by her own words. It was true, though, and a warmth spread through her at the realization.

  “I’m glad you are BFFs with your boss. I promise I’ll be discreet. You can kick me in the shin if I cross the line.”

  As if summoned by being the subject of their conversation, Amanda walked in. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.

  “It’s Andrew. He wants to meet you…”

  “I would love to meet your fascinating brother.” Amanda sat down next to Syssi and opened her laptop. “How about lunch, tomorrow, after our shopping spree? There is this great little Italian café not far from Rodeo, Café Milano. Ask him if he can meet us there at around three.”

  “Did I hear right? Shopping on Rodeo Drive? You never even pay retail, let alone visit high-end boutiques.” Andrew sounded amused.

  “I know…
don’t ask…” Syssi snorted.

  “Tomorrow at three, Café Milano, tell your boss I’ll be there.”

  “See you there.” Syssi ended the call and shook her head at Amanda.

  Typing away on her laptop, the distinguished professor, Dr. Amanda Dokani, was quietly singing; “Bad boy, bad boy, what you gonna do when Amanda comes for you…”

  CHAPTER 11: KIAN

  On his way to the meeting, Kian reflected on the fact that although he had never resented his work before, he did now. Damn, he would’ve loved to stay in bed with Syssi and cuddle, or maybe go for another round… But then, she had work to do as well.

  Fuck that.

  He would’ve just told her to stay.

  If it were up to him, he’d make sure that unless Syssi wanted to, she wouldn’t have to work another day in her life. Though, knowing Syssi, she would not have liked him managing her like that, and besides, she seemed to love her work.

  Kian sighed. This whole train of thought was pointless. Even if he could persuade Syssi to slack, there was no escaping his responsibilities, and the Guardians he was scheduled to meet were awaiting him in his new office. And what’s worse, with the way he’d been neglecting his duties lately to be with Syssi, he probably would have to pull an all-nighter to catch up on his work.

  Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered him, except now, his obligations were eating away at what little time he had left with the woman he loved.

  He loved her. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  Earlier, right after admitting he never wanted to let her go, he’d almost blurted those three monumental words. But letting these words loose when their future was so unclear would’ve been unkind to Syssi, even cruel.

  Choking down that compulsion, his throat had clogged with the unvoiced confession, but he’d covered it well, goofing around with her panties.

  When he arrived at the meeting, his sour expression must’ve forewarned the guys, for once thwarting their usual smart-ass remarks.

  Thank fuck.

  As he sat down at the table, Onegus took one look at Kian’s face and cleared his throat, while Shai busied himself with rearranging the neat stacks of paperwork in front of him. Bhathian only frowned, but that had nothing to do with Kian. A scowl was the guy’s regular expression.

  “What do we have for today?” Kian asked.

  “Carol is back to her old tricks.” Onegus pushed his phone over to Kian. “See for yourself; play the recording.”

  Palming the device, Kian watched the scene playing out on the small screen. Carol, drunk or high on something, sat on a stool with her back propped against the bar, facing a sizable audience. Encouraged by their rapt attention, she went on and on about her adventures as a highly sought after courtesan in eighteen-century Paris.

  Kian sighed. Poor, misguided Carol.

  Clearly, it had escaped her notice that as fascinated as her audience had been by the tale she’d been spinning, they had also looked amused. And the fact that they hadn’t believed any of it and had thought she was either a nutcase or drunk had been obvious to everyone but her. Nevertheless, she’d broken the law by exposing her impossible age.

  “Did you thrall them?” Kian asked Onegus.

  “I did. But as she told the same stories the night before, the damage was done.”

  To most ears, the stories were harmless, too fantastical to be taken as anything but tall tales. But there was a remote chance that their adversaries may hear of it and easily figure out what she was, putting her and the rest of the family in danger.

  “Bring her in. The first time she pulled that stunt, I let her off with a warning. But this time, she will stand trial. Let Edna decide what to do with her.” Kian sighed, regretting the necessity.

  Carol wasn’t malicious—just disturbed and not too bright. But he couldn’t let her endanger everyone with her behavior. Hopefully, some time spent alone in a small cell would be just the wakeup call she needed.

  “Okay, this is settled then.” Onegus took his phone back and searched for the next item on his agenda. “Evidently, someone believes that Jackson, son of Mira, is thralling girls in his high school into giving him blowjobs. We got this anonymous email last night.” He handed the phone to Kian to read for himself.

  Bhathian snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “After the whipping this will earn him, I’m sure blowjobs will lose some of their appeal.”

  “Jackson is innocent until proven guilty. It may as well be someone who holds a grudge against him. You know how boys are… and this email was clearly written by a teenager. How old is he anyway? And who does he go to school with?” Kian needed more information before bringing the kid in for questioning.

  “He is sixteen, and he is a student at Zelda Mayer’s school. We have two more high schoolers there. It is a very prestigious institution, and some of LA’s most prominent families send their kids there.” Onegus sighed. “It’s just getting better, isn’t it? What if it was the mayor’s daughter or some other public figure’s kid? Not to imply that it makes a difference morally, but if she remembers anything and presses charges, it might make the evening news. The cleanup will be a nightmare.”

  “We’ll need to bring our kids in for questioning, all three at the same time. Don’t tell them the reason; I don’t want them to be able to prepare for it. And what’s more important, I don’t want Jackson’s name smeared because of a rumor. We need to interrogate each one separately to get to the bottom of this.” Kian raked his fingers through his hair. If what the email claimed was true, Jackson would stand trial for rape. If proven guilty, he would be sentenced to a whipping.

  This kind of punishment seemed barbaric in this time and age, especially when administered to someone who was considered a minor in mortal terms.

  But this was their law.

  Kids were responsible for their actions as soon as they reached puberty. But although the punishment was just as excruciatingly painful for an immortal as it was for a mortal, the difference was in how fast and fully an immortal healed.

  “You know, I got whipped when I was that age. Since then, I’ve made damn sure that a girl wanted what I was doing to her and never assumed anything again.” Bhathian’s face contorted in a grimace. “It was a tough lesson, though. I never knew anything could hurt that bad, and I got only two. I hated my mother for a very long time after that; couldn’t forgive her for reporting me for something I thought was trivial. She said it was the principle that mattered, and it was better I learned it before doing something worse and earning a more severe punishment.”

  Hearing this story for the first time, Kian asked, “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t even thrall the chit. I was kissing her and the kiss got us nice and steamy. She was moaning and clinging to me, so I got cocky and palmed her breast. I thought she was ready for second base, as they call it today. Imagine my surprise when she slapped me and ran to complain to my mother. When I tried to explain that I thought the girl wanted this, my mother saw red. ‘Did you ask permission?’ she asked. I was dumbfounded. ‘Is this what a man is supposed to do? Ask before every move?’ I challenged her. She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Yes. You don’t have to ask with words, but you ask with your actions. Did your hand linger near her breast, giving her the opportunity to brush it off? Or conversely encourage you to continue? Or did you just go for it?’ She was right, of course. Being honest with myself, I knew I didn’t want the girl to have the chance to say no, hoping she would like what I was doing and maybe even let me pull up her skirt. So I admitted my guilt, never expecting to get a whipping for my honesty. I was angry for a very long time, but eventually, I understood and internalized how important the law of consent was—mainly after a very embarrassing lecture from my uncle, explaining in graphic detail everything concerning sex. He also explained that my mother was afraid I would not adhere to the law fully unless it were branded into me. I forgave her. But I lost my trust in her. I left home as soon as I was old enough and enli
sted in the Guardian force.” Bhathian looked down at his hands, his perpetual frown turning into a deep scowl.

  Onegus put his hand on Bhathian’s shoulder. “We’ve all done stupid things as kids or gotten punished beyond what we thought was fair. But there is no point in dwelling on past mistakes or the pain suffered, if we learned our lessons and moved on, becoming better people as a result. We are not human, but we are not infallible gods either, regardless of what our ancestors wanted everyone to believe.” Onegus squeezed Bhathian’s shoulder. “And neither are our mothers. Call your mom, Bhathian. Tell her you love her. It will make you feel better.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Bhathian arched a brow. “When was the last time you talked with yours?”

  Onegus looked down his nose at his friend. “I talk to her every day.”

  “Seriously, man? You call your mom every day? Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Kian blurted.

  “You’re damn right it’s excessive. She calls me… several times a day, wants a report on every damn thing I do, keeps me on the phone forever, and gives me a guilt trip when I say I’m busy… You’d think I’m five, instead of five hundred years old…”

  Bhathian laughed so hard, his eyes teared. “I didn’t know our illustrious commander was a mamma’s boy…”

  Kian laughed as well, thankful his mother wasn’t the intrusive, controlling type. On the contrary, at times when he might have lingered under her protective wing, she had pushed him to become independent, to take more and more responsibilities and become the leader she needed him to be.

  “Do you think I should talk with Edna about changing the definition of rape in light of your experience? A whipping for getting a feel of a girl’s breast seems extreme.” Kian had mixed feelings on the subject. Teenage immortals were very hard to control, their new powers lending themselves to feelings of superiority and entitlement. Combined with the impulsiveness and hormonal havoc of their changing bodies, they needed a strong deterrent to keep them from becoming dangerous monsters. Yet, he wished there was an alternative that wouldn’t involve such brutal measures.