What if…what if this was fate?
12
Day Four of the Cycle
Oliver had reached the bleary-eyed stage. He blinked repeatedly in an attempt to displace the blur as he careened down the hall, bouncing from wall to wall like a fucking pinball. Of course, the careening could be more related to the massive amounts of painkillers coursing through his system than the inability to see well. It was really a toss-up at this point.
This was the last day that painkillers would even make a dent in the Impulse pain, so Oliver was going to use them as much as he could. His life would be downright hell in about an hour.
Well, more downright hell.
He’d spent the night in the infirmary after he’d been carried there when Luke found him unconscious and face-planted in his living room. He just couldn’t face seeing his mate again at this point. Sleeping on the floor beside her bed like a dog had not appealed to him in the least, so he’d kept his distance.
Now, instinct was driving him hard. His body wouldn’t let him stay in the infirmary when it knew the relief for its agony was in the same building. So, he was forcing himself to walk to the intelligence meeting he’d gotten wind was currently being held—probably to discuss what the hell to do with Oliver’s fucked up situation so they could get on to more important matters already.
He eyed the living quarters wing as he passed through the dome. She was there right now in their apartment.
In his apartment. He shook his head. There was no reason to wax poetic about her or her occupation of any part of his life.
Soon, he’d be screaming in pain as he barreled toward death. Romance could die right along with him.
He lurched into the hallway with the meeting rooms, and he’d just reached the closed door to the main conference room when someone cleared her delicate throat behind him.
He hated the way his heart tugged in her direction, hoping it would be his mate, as he turned around. What he saw was unbelievably worse than even the human woman he might hate.
The demon was back. Her sweet-as-candy scent flooded him, making him cringe.
“Oh, fuck,” Oliver muttered.
Those pin-up lips pursed. “Such an offer right off the bat?” she purred.
Oliver’s very body rebelled, a shiver coursing through him. “What do you want, demon?”
She clicked her tongue. “Someone’s been gossiping like a bitch.”
“Upset that I know what you are?”
She rolled her eyes. “Honey, everybody knows what I am: drop-dead gorgeous.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled. “Have the humans decided whether they want to play?”
He tried to stand his ground—he really did—but every part of him wanted to get away from her. He took an involuntary step backward. “We regretfully decline your generous offer,” he said as firmly as he could.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” she hummed. “There are plans in play that you do not want to see come to fruition, baby. And we’re not just talking the apocalypse. Ally with us, and we can protect you when the fit hits the shan.”
Oliver swallowed. “Yeah, I may be a Sunday School flunky, but even I know that’s not a good idea.”
She cocked her head to the side, and Oliver resisted the urge to fold his arms over his stomach and guard his vital organs. “Pity.” She closed her eyes and sighed, her breasts heaving in her polka-dot dress. If Oliver didn’t know better, he’d say she was…resigned. Maybe even saddened by Oliver’s answer. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Her gaze drifted from Oliver to the closed door right behind him and—yep—sadness flooded her brown eyes.
Between one blink and the next, she was gone. If Oliver was lucky, he’d never have to see her again. Unfortunately, Oliver was anything but lucky.
His hands were shaking when he turned the knob and entered the meeting room.
Chatter immediately ceased. Everyone around the table—Dahlia, Abilene, Jericho, Eli, Anahita, Max, and Luke—was frozen and staring at him as though he’d sprouted a third nostril. It was beyond obvious that no one expected Oliver to be out of bed and trying to live normally. It pissed Oliver the hell off real quick. “I’m not dead yet,” he growled, stomping toward the empty chair next to Luke and flopping down with zero grace, the wheeled chair groaning in protest.
Great. Now no one was meeting his eyes. They had been talking about him, then. “I delivered our RSVP to Hell’s apocalypse party, by the way. A nice big fuck off and die. You’re welcome.”
Seven gazes snapped his direction. “When?” Anahita asked.
“Just before I opened the door.” He nodded toward the door he just entered.
All of their heads snapped in that direction. Anahita reached for the sword on her back and moved as though she were going to launch into battle.
“She’s gone, angel girl,” Oliver said, trying his hardest not to snap at her. Damn. He was grumpy on an epic scale. And in that vein of thought: “Hey, explain something to me.” He leaned forward. “My mate ate the fruit. It did nothing.” Oliver clenched his fists on the table. “The Voice didn’t tell her I’m The One. It doesn’t even seem to talk to her.” Oliver struggled to get himself back under wraps. “What the hell, Anahita?”
Anahita’s brows furrowed. “Oh, Oliver, I am sorry. You should have asked me first. I would have told you I think the Voice will never speak to her.”
Just like that, Oliver’s anger vanished. It was replaced with something much, much worse. Heavier. More hopeless. Oliver’s eyes stung, and he had to swallow hard. “N-never?”
Anahita shook her head. “I am pretty sure she partook of the Tree of Knowledge. Before she ate of the Tree of Life. The Trees were set up to give humans a choice. The Tree of Life brings humans closer to the Most High; the other, well….”
Right. So…. “She’ll never pair with me, will she?” Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and tried to hold on to himself as best he could. He felt like he was ready to fly apart. All of the medicine was wearing off. The pain that would shortly overtake him was waiting in the wings, and Oliver’s current state of mind was not going to help keep it at bay.
Anahita leaned forward. “Oliver, humans all over the world are happily together without the Impulse. You don’t need it.”
Oliver gritted his teeth. “Humans all over the world don’t have to overcome a fucking kidnapping, Anahita. I’d like to thank you for that, again, by the way. Best first date ever.”
Anahita pursed her lips. “Oh, yes, I remember all of those times you asked—nay, begged—me to return her to her homeland, and I said no to your face, spitting in your eye for good measure.”
Max snickered, and Oliver narrowed his eyes at the pair. When had Max taught his angel to be as big of a dick as he was?
“You okay?” Luke asked beneath his breath after several awkward seconds.
Oliver looked across the table and saw Max’s amusement had faded, his eyes tight around the edges. Luke and Max both knew each step of Oliver’s cycle nearly as well as Oliver himself did. They knew what was coming any time now.
“I’m never okay,” he muttered back. Depression was swirling in the back of Oliver’s skull, ready to take him over and pull him down. He’d found his mate and, if anything, things were worse than they’d been before. Oliver propped his elbow on the chair’s armrest and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I touched her, by the way,” Dahlia said from near the head of the table.
Oliver’s head snapped up. “What?”
Dahlia nodded. “Used the Knowledge. She’s good, Oliver.” Dahlia shrugged. “At least, that’s the read I’m getting.”
Dahlia and Jericho had the same ability Max had in his eye, except their power was only through touch. Whenever they touched someone, the Voice told them whether the person had good or evil intentions.
“Same read I got,” Max added softly.
Abilene cleared her throat and looked at Dahlia. “Are you going to tell Oliver what else you did?�
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Everyone turned to look at Dahlia, and Oliver felt his throat dry up. Oh, no. “What did you do?” he rasped.
Dahlia looked at her fingernails. “Just helping a friend out.”
Abilene sighed. “She hinted at your death cycle to your mate.”
Oliver froze. “She did what?” His tone was lethal.
“Hint is a little strong,” Dahlia said, hedging.
Oliver closed his eyes. The pain that was thrumming in the background burst through the last of the painkillers. He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. The pain or Dahlia’s meddling. He swallowed a groan.
“I don’t understand why he doesn’t just tell her!” Dahlia erupted.
“Sweetheart,” Jericho placed his hand over hers, “it doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. It’s not yours to tell.”
Oliver fisted his hands so hard, some of his fingers popped. What would Dahlia have told his mate? That Oliver would die if she didn’t put out? Thanks for that, Dahlia. He glared at her.
The others might think him a damn idiot, but he hadn’t told his woman about his impending death because…. Well, because he wanted her to sleep with him because she wanted him, not because she was coerced. There’s no line between feeling forced and being forced. Anahita had kidnapped her—brought her here against her will. Oliver knew what that felt like. He’d been so optimistic as a young soldier brought into Operation: Middle of the Garden. Major Taylor had shipped him, Luke, and Max back to Afghanistan as soon as the ink was dry on their contracts and kept them prisoners long after his death due to his secrecy, everyone thinking them dead. During that time, Oliver had lost his life completely. He’d had so much taken from him against his will that Oliver vowed he would never do the same to another person, especially in the area of sex. He’d rather die first, and—most likely—that was exactly what was going to happen.
The pain grew to be too much for him to contain his voice, and Oliver leaned forward, covered his face with both of his hands, and groaned into his palms, shuddering against a sweep of pain.
“This is ridiculous. Why don’t we just get Jayden to read her mind and find out if she’s a bad guy or not?” Dahlia asked.
“It’s a great idea, but…we can’t find Jayden.” Something unidentifiable in Max’s tone penetrated Oliver’s thick skull.
Oliver raised his head. Can’t find Jayden?
“He’s gone?” Luke asked. “But, where’s Grace?”
“Oh, she’s still here. In their apartment,” Abilene said. “She can’t stop throwing up. I think she’s got…the flu.” Her last words were slow and drawn out, as though she’d just realized something. Her gaze shifted to her husband, an obvious question in her eyes along with something else.
It was the same question pounding through Oliver’s skull: What the fuck? Jayden would never leave his Grace, especially when she was sick.
Anahita paled. “The f-flu?”
“Oh, no,” Abilene said, making Oliver frown. The two women looked like they’d swallowed marbles. What was going on?
There was an impatient knock on the door a mere second before it opened. The Fallen angel they’d just been discussing stood in the frame of the door, his face in shadow.
Anahita launched to her feet. “Jayden?”
Anahita’s voice was filled with something very close to terror, and all of the relief they felt at the sight of the former angel vanished, as if sucked out by a vacuum.
Jayden stepped into the room and into a beam of light. His face was haggard, his hair a jumbled mess. His robe was ripped at his right shoulder, and a bruise marked his jaw.
Oliver straightened and saw Luke do the same in his peripheral vision.
Anahita shook her head. “No, Jayden.” Her voice wobbled. “No.”
Jayden raised his chin a notch. “There is no easy way to say this. I have allied with the Fallen,” he said with no inflection. “With Remiel.”
Several gasps echoed in the room.
“What?” Eli jerked to his feet. “Why?”
Anahita was shaking her head. Max stood and moved behind her, reaching forward to hold her hand.
“Grace is…carrying my child,” Jayden said, the first hint of emotion in his tone. “They have threatened her. And so, I am theirs.”
Well, fuck a duck.
Anahita made a noise in her throat, and next Oliver knew, she was storming toward Jayden, her finger in his face. “You knew it was dangerous! Knew Nephilim were forbidden,” she said in a way Oliver had never heard her speak before.
“Ana,” Max said sharply.
Jayden’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His shoulders sank.
The pounding in Oliver’s head grew deafeningly loud. He clutched at his temples.
“We will leave the compound tonight,” Jayden stopped talking and stared at his feet, obviously overcome. “I will—I am—”
“Now, let’s just wait a second,” said Eli, holding his hands out, palms down.
Everyone else got to their feet as well and started talking at once.
It felt as though Oliver’s bones were trying to evacuate his body through his skin. He started shaking, and before he could stop it, his lips were ripped open and a scream—the first of what would be many—came billowing out.
All conversation abruptly ended.
“Shit, Oliver.” Max rushed to his side.
Another scream rent the room. Another. And another.
“Help me get him to the infirmary,” Max bellowed at Luke.
“Hang on, buddy,” Luke said, grabbing Oliver beneath his arms while Max grabbed Oliver’s legs. They pulled him up, his body swinging between them like a hammock. Their hands on him felt like daggers slicing his flesh.
His screams heightened; he struggled, trying to get away from the terrible pain. They were moving him, he could feel it, but he knew nothing more as his torment overtook him, getting the best of him at last.
13
Day Five of the Cycle
For two days now, Oliver had not come home.
Farrah paced back and forth in the living room, walking from the back of the sofa to the stools in the kitchen. She nibbled on her thumbnail as she walked.
She didn’t want Oliver. Didn’t want him around. She didn’t.
But…where was he?
Yesterday, she’d held her questions, but today she’d interrogated her guards for hours. They’d given her the same answers over and over again. Obviously rehearsed answers that told her practically nothing. She didn’t even know if Oliver was safe, and, for some reason, that bothered her.
Farrah shook her head. No. That is not what bothered her. She did not care about Oliver or his safety she assured herself—not quite sure if she was being honest. There was one reason and one reason only his disappearance bothered her: every time a benefactor disappeared on her, she was traded to a new master. A worse one.
The first snatched her away from her mother’s arms and into a life of begging. Stealing. Filth. A life that morphed when she was traded yet again to a rich old man who spotted her and demanded she be delivered to his palace. To join his staff as a maid, and the title had, at first, deceived her as to her true purpose in the household. Her eyes were opened in a big way, however, the first time Master attempted to get her alone.
And then there was the man who trained her to fight—one of the servants who had taken pity on her. He even helped hide her when Master chose her as his “maid” for the night, helping her to guard both her virginity and her sanity.
He, too had vanished on her, asking her to meet him in a remote location but never showing up. A strange place with barred windows and an aura of suffering. A new stranger had ushered her inside, left her in the midst of some cells for a few moments, and then escorted her to an examination room. She…didn’t remember anything after that. She woke up some time later, alone, blind, and suffering memory loss. She never found out what happened to her “friend,” but given what had been done to her and his probable rol
e in it, he had definitely not been a true friend, and she had vowed never to think his name again.
A life on the streets as a blind woman had not been easy. She lived in fear. In squalor.
Oliver had taken her from that, and now he was gone. History taught her that something worse was around the corner.
She cursed her stupidity. Those strange women—Dahlia and Abilene—were right. Oliver could have hurt her at any time, and he hadn’t. Now that he was gone, would the next man be as kind? Or would he finally take what thus far she’d been able to preserve through sheer determination?
She’d say she’d die first, but Oliver had taken care of that for her, too. She would not stay here to wait and see what worse fate awaited her.
She turned, facing the spot she knew the guards stood. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is Oliver?”
“Lady,” one said on a sigh. “We’ve told you. He’s gone on business.”
The same thing they’d told her countless times. “When will he be back?”
“When he wants to!” the other guard snapped.
Farrah turned away so they wouldn’t see the panic cross her face. They’d answered that question with an emotionless in a few days every time she asked it before.
When he wants to? She’d done everything in her power to make sure he didn’t want to be around her. Fool!
Oliver was gone. Probably gone for good.
Farrah had no choice; she would leave tomorrow. She’d foolishly give Oliver one more chance to come home tonight, but she couldn’t wait any longer than that. She just needed to get the fruit first….
She turned back to the guards. “Take me to see Abilene, please.” Abilene had been the reasonable one. If she was left in Abilene’s care, perhaps Farrah could sneak a piece of fruit. She only needed to get close. With her training in thievery, the fruit would quickly be in Farrah’s pocket with no one the wiser.
One of them laughed. It was not a nice sound. “You must think the world revolves around you. Everyone is busy right now. Very busy.”
Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5) Page 9