Emeline hoped the annoyance on her face conveyed how she felt about the greeting.
“Don’t be a Grinch. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d visit.”
Yeah, because visiting Harlem at eight o’clock at night happened to be on her agenda today. “An impromptu visit with wine and food?”
Stella cocked her hip and rested the bottle on the curve, a dare for Emeline to call her out on the blatant lie. She peered around Stella and saw Hector standing beside an open car door. He waved at Emeline and she returned the gesture. He returned to the driver’s seat and drove away.
She stepped aside and Stella marched into the home like she’d lived there in a previous life and remembered the layout. “Is this a bad time?”
Emeline glanced down at her ratty robe and worn slippers. She hadn’t combed her hair and couldn’t remember if she even brushed her teeth today. She closed and locked the door. “Not really.”
“Good, ’cause I brought roasted chicken with new potatoes and carrots. And German chocolate cake for dessert.” Stella unzipped the insulated bag.
A mixture of succulent aromas teased Emeline’s nose. Her stomach rumbled. Now she couldn’t refuse, claiming she wasn’t hungry.
“Or we could go out. You look like you could use some fresh air and a change of scenery.”
“I look like hell.”
Through pursed lips, Stella said, “Yeah, just a little.”
At least she was honest. “No dinner with the husband?”
“He and the guys are out of town for a meeting.”
The guys? Did that include Avery? Though the question burned her throat, Emeline only nodded. “Follow me.”
She led the way to the kitchen. Stella removed her coat and scarf, laying them across the back of one of the wooden chairs, and together, they emptied the bag of its sealed contents. She sat at the kitchen table while Emeline retrieved glasses, plates, and silverware. She handed Stella a corkscrew and dished out the food. Suddenly, she was eager to eat.
The chicken was moist with a hint of lemon and mint, the potatoes and carrots buttery and seasoned to perfection. Stella handed Emeline a glass of white wine. “How did you know?”
Stella glanced up from her own plate. “About your need for a decent meal? Or about you and Avery?”
Emeline waved her hand, exasperated. “Both.”
“I took a guess on you going on the broken heart diet. Judging by Avery’s foul mood, everyone sorta figured you guys hadn’t worked through things yet.” Stella speared a piece of chicken and ate.
Hearing Avery’s name caused an unbearable ache in Emeline’s heart. “How is he?” Her voice cracked.
“He’s staying at the Order. Roman’s helping as much as he can. Last I heard, EJ was staying at the cabin.”
“With Ridley?” Emeline grunted.
“I didn’t ask about her.”
They ate in silence. The occasional honking horn, squawking bird, faint conversation filtered from outside.
“So you visit Harlem often?”
“Only when I have friends.”
Emeline raised an eyebrow. Now they were friends? They barely knew each other.
“Or people I would like to be my friend.”
“Let’s not play this game, Stella. You don’t know me. The only reason you’re here—”
“Is because I care. I care about EJ, and Avery, and you. He loves you, Emeline.”
Tears blurred her vision. She blinked hard to keep them at bay. Didn’t work. One rolled down her cheek. She dipped her head to hide it. Concentrating on eating her chicken and drinking her wine and keeping both in her stomach, helped to stabilize her wayward emotions.
“Sorry I upset you. That’s not why I came. No matter what happens. I’m here for you as a friend.”
Pretty words. Would they still apply if she and Avery never got back to together? Emeline doubted it, but it was nice of Stella to come all this way. “I don’t know why…or how he could possibly still love me. I’ve totally fucked everything up in every possible way. We should both cut our losses and go our separate ways.”
Stella shook her head. “You don’t truly feel that way. And trust me, neither does he.”
That gave her heart a little tug. She swallowed a mouthful of wine without tasting a drop. “Well, he should.”
“Should what? Not love you? You do know how stubborn Nicolis men are, right?”
That made her snort.
“You can’t dial love up and dial love down on a whim, not if it’s real.”
Emeline pushed the unfinished plate “You don’t understand what I did. Not only the lies, Stella. I didn’t trust him when everything inside me said I should, I didn’t because I believed—”
“None of that matters, Emeline. At the end of the day, in the middle of the night, whose arms do you want around you? Whose eyes do you want to drown in before you sleep?”
The answers to those questions were simple: Avery.
“Whatever happened between you two, if it’s fixable, then fix it. Forget the past and fix it. Regret is a cold companion.”
Wise words but Emeline had to forgive herself before she could forget. “Thanks for coming by and bringing dinner, but I really want to be alone.” Emeline stood and the room dipped. Her vision winked, then blackened, and the world slid away.
She felt Stella’s arms around her, easing her to the ground. The cold tile on her cheek snapped the world back into focus. She lurched upright. Stella’s voice came from a distance as if Emeline’s ears were clogged with cotton. Her stomach flopped and she groaned. Dinner had decided to make a return appearance.
Emeline struggled to her feet. The bathroom was in the hall yet seemed a mile away. Stella helped her up, especially when Emeline slapped her hand over her mouth and clutched her abdomen. Together they made it a second before the vomit crawled up her throat and exploded out of her mouth. Violent heaves racked her body as her stomach rejected the chicken, potatoes, carrots, and wine. It seemed to go on forever, until finally, she slumped next to the toilet, depleted.
Stella placed a damp paper towel on the back of Emeline’s neck and handed her another one to wipe her face. “Better?”
Throat too sore to speak, Emeline gave the thumbs up sign.
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Emeline rinsed out her mouth and allowed Stella to help her to the living room. A blanket on her lap, a dying fire in the fireplace, and some crackers Emeline guessed Stella found in the cabinets were shoved into her hand; that was all she could absorb. Anything else required too much energy.
Stella sat on the loveseat, her face drawn in contemplation. “I don’t mean to get personal, and by all means please tell me if I’ve crossed a line…are you pregnant?”
The glass slipped from Emeline’s hand and spilled water onto the carpet.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get that.” Stella dashed out of the room.
Pregnant? The word ricocheted around Emeline’s brain. She couldn’t be. They were always safe. Used condoms every time.
Except...that one time at RockGate.
Her world shrank to a pinpoint. What if I am pregnant? The word choked her brain and left her sputtering. The last thing she needed was a baby. Avery’s baby. Her hand trailed down to her stomach. Was there a new roundness present?
What...What if...What if he didn’t want it? Did she want it?
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” Stella knelt close by and soaked up the water with a kitchen towel. “The fainting and throwing up got me thinking.”
Got Emeline thinking, too. Thinking hard.
“Stella…can you…would you mind coming with me to the drugstore?”
Understanding dawned on Stella’s face. She took Emeline’s hand and squeezed. “Sure. Let’s go.”
~~~~~~~
“Everyone please be seated, and let’s begin this meeting.” Declan waved at the plush seats surrounding the conference table.
“We’re not sitting at the sam
e table with this bastard.” Roman eased his grip off his weapon. His blade vanished, and he retracted the hilt into his sleeve. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, his gaze solely on Declan.
Declan stood and assumed the same position as Roman. “Daniel Nicolis is a guest in my home and will be afforded the same hospitality I give you.” He plopped into his seat. “You both are here to negotiate an alliance between our pantheons. I would like to hear what each of you has to offer.”
Roman struggled to contain his mounting anger. “Daniel Nicolis doesn’t have a pantheon. He is a serial killer. He kidnapped my wife, manipulated my twin—”
“And is a piece of shit.” Avery finished Roman’s sentence with a snarl.
“His life is forfeit to us.” Reign bit out. He took a step forward. Roman threw his arm out and blocked him.
“Are you threatening my guest?” Declan said quietly.
“Yes. Give him to us,” Roman said.
“Or else, what?” Bianca rose with a sultry stretch of her body. “What are you going to do if my fiancé says no?”
Roman refused to meet her pointed stare. “Give me your answer, Declan.”
Frederick Tanis entered the room from the same door as Daniel and stood next to Declan’s chair.
Declan leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers. “We are all killers, Roman. Some more proficient than others. Who are you—a former mercenary—to judge?”
Roman had his answer.
We attack. Reign pushed the words into Roman’s mind. The temptation was there. He wouldn’t strike first. When this war began, the Nicolis wouldn’t draw first blood. They would draw the last.
Retreat. Take the lead. He pushed into Reign’s mind and signaled the rest of his men to do the same. His twin resisted then did a one-eighty and exited the room. Brayden was next, followed by Thane. Avery hadn’t moved. He was dialed into Daniel and locked on target.
“It was nice seeing the family again, catching up with the gang. Everyone looks real good. Real good. Except...EJ. Where’s your brother, Avery? Usually, you keep better tabs on him. Usually, you’re his shadow. I’m sensing a crack in the Nicolis wall.” Daniel took a seat at the table, made himself comfortable in his chair.
Avery’s lips peeled back from his teeth, a hair trigger away from exploding. That was the last thing Roman wanted. Right now, Avery was their secret weapon, and he needed to remain that way as long as possible. Roman tapped Avery on the shoulder, hard. Though he clearly didn’t want to, Avery got the message and pivoted on his solid two legs. Roman was right behind him as he left.
“Tell Stella I said hi. Give her a big wet one from me,” Daniel said.
Roman stopped and made a slow turn. He could feel the presence of his men lined up behind him, waiting for a signal to let the mayhem commence. His gaze swept over each of his enemies, committing their faces to memory.
Power surged within him, fueled by the desire for sweet violence. “Remember this moment, Declan. It is the last peace you will have. You’ve aligned yourself with the wrong Nicolis.” He opened a vortex behind Reign. Together, the family exited the building.
The vortex deposited them in Roman’s office at RockGate. “Who do we kill first?” Thane asked the second the portal closed behind them.
“No one…yet.” Roman went to the window overlooking the covered swimming pool, the tennis court, and woods beyond. His power flared and he let it flow from him and through the mansion. He sought his wife and found her tucked safely in their bed. He was glad he hadn’t told her about the meeting, worried her. Next, it brushed every member of the household, including Jackson, the newest arrival. His power returned only when he was sure all was secure.
“Quin, I need you to upgrade Emeline’s security system,” Avery said. Quin nodded and Avery stormed out of the room. Roman took a guess where he was headed, to protect what he considered his.
Blood would be spilled, copious amounts. Been a while since Roman waded through red fields, which were once a vibrant green. He didn’t fear a return to those weary battle days. He just had to make sure the bodies on the field weren’t any of his. That meant doing the one thing he swore he would never do. Call allies he never wanted to see again.
But how to find them? Some hid in plain sight in the very city the Nicolis called home. Others were nomadic, spending no more than five years in one place. Other than a single email address, Roman had no other way to reach them. They were secretive and paranoid, their numbers unknown. This threat affected every Descendant of Ra. It was time they put aside their differences and face it together.
“What now, brother?” Reign’s gaze met Roman’s reflected in the window. All of the men turned to him. Waited on his answer.
“I call our cousins, all of the Descendants of Egyptian Gods.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
EJ burned. At a cellular level, all of him ignited, until one thought, his last thought surfaced. Protect Ridley. Yeah, he healed fast, but he wasn’t immortal. He wasn’t Roman or Reign, sons of a goddess. He was a descendant from one of Elyssian reincarnated souls. Was she Egyptian? Possibly a fallen goddess? They’d probably never know.
EJ always expected his final act of bravery would be saving Avery or another member of the family. He severed that tie when he walked out of RockGate and torched all those bridges. He threw his lot in with Ridley, the enemy. Her arms were tight around him, her body close, the smell of her in his nose, his skin, his cells. She was now his family, this woman in red who’d enslaved his body and heart. If he had to die, he would die with her. For her.
But he wished he had a chance to warn Quin that Alamut was on RockGate property. Through a haze of pain, a spatial distortion opened inside his mind and sucked him inside. He pulled Ridley along. Together, they entered a void. Absent of sound. Absent of light. Absent of sensation. An eternity pressed into a millisecond of nothingness.
Gradually, the sensory deprivation ceased. Fragrant grass scented the air. He smelled roses and some other flowers he couldn’t name, their delicate bouquet heady, rousing. So many different scents, had he stumbled into a florist shop? Yet comfort surrounded him, as if he reclined on a cloud. So quiet. EJ snuggled into the warmth engulfing him.
So tranquil. The burn faded leaving only a residual tinge. He clung to the calm, wanted it to last forever.
Something was missing. Awareness came slowly, pricking at him with the tenacity of an army ant peeling his eyes open. He resisted, still his senses flipped to assault mode. This place wasn’t home. Home, being winter in New York. That’s where he was last with someone named Sakhmet trying to kill him.
And Ridley.
Through slitted eyes, he peered at his new surroundings. Cloudless sky stared down at him as he lay flat on his back on the biggest bed ever made. No roof, no door. The room was circular with white marble columns pointing to the heavens. Beyond the room, a field of flowers. On the opposite side of the bed, seemingly miles away, Ridley. In under a second, he took all of this in—including the goddess sitting at his four o’clock.
He inhaled and felt the weight of his empty guns in his shoulder holsters and no pain anywhere in his body. Once again, he had beat death, with a little help he suspected. Before today (or was it last night?) he’d trusted the goddess Hathor and her human host without question. Now, he patted his thigh, slipped his hand into the side pocket, and gripped a blade. Effective or not, he wouldn’t face her without a weapon.
“EJ Nicolis, I know you are awake, and I tire of your perusal. Rise and address me,” Hathor snapped.
Sure sounded like the goddess who’d enjoyed scolding him every time they’d crossed paths. Familiarity didn’t stop him from freeing the blade and hiding it up his sleeve. He sat up and got a good look at her.
Hathoria Gregory, the host of the Goddess of Love, was a stately eighty-something-year-old who wore her age with a grace, which belied her wrinkles, gnarled joints, and cataracts. Dressed in a gauzy linen gow
n, Hathor’s appearance was that of a young woman with smooth, taut, milk chocolate skin. The wrinkles at her eyes and laugh lines he remembered were gone. Now, her bright amber eyes were lined with kohl and staring right through him. Her chestnut hair, parted down the middle, framed her face, and a gold circlet crowned her.
All of her was golden, like gold glitter sprinkled on a chocolate canvass. She sparkled in the sunlight pouring through the open ceiling. Hathor, The Goddess of Love, personified beauty, of flesh and bone, and spirit. Seeing her in her true form made EJ’s heart slow. Sublime joy replaced his fear.
He climbed out of the bed and knelt in front of her. “Great Goddess Hathor. It is a pleasure to be in your revered presence.”
Though one elegant eyebrow arched with distinct skepticism, a smile tugged the goddess’s lips.
“And thank you for saving our asses. How did you know—?”
Two daggers whizzed inches from his cheeks aimed at Hathor. He shouted a warning and sagged in relief when the Damascus blades clattered harmlessly to the floor. The subtle sound of shifting bedsheets told him Ridley was awake. By the time he whipped around, she was nothing more than a blur.
EJ leaped to his feet. “Ridley!”
Too late. With a flick of her wrist, Hathor immobilized Ridley in mid-step. She had another two blades in each palm, inches from striking.
The same elegant eyebrow arched, nostrils flared, lips thinned, “Tenacious, human,” Hathor hissed.
EJ rushed forward and dropped to one knee. “Hathor, Great Goddess, please don’t kill her.”
Her amber eyes cut to EJ and narrowed. Another flick of her wrist and Ridley sailed across the room and landed in a heap on the center of the bed. She sunk amidst the fluff, submerged for a moment then struggled to the surface with a snarl.
“Do you plan on striking me also, Elroy Jasper?” Hathor said in a haughty tone the Queen of England couldn’t emulate.
Damn it, why did she have to use the full name? He looked down at the knife in his hand. Hadn’t even realized he grabbed it. He returned the knife to his pocket and raised his empty hands. “No ma’am, I mean goddess, Great Goddess.” He stumbled over the words dreading another reprimand.
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