Divine Judgment- the Divine Chronicles #3

by JoAnna Grace

  “Thank you, prince.”

  Waving him off, Ashton smiled widely as Dante loped back down the path to the training center. Yes, the seed was planted and, even better, the ground was fertile.

  ***

  BY THE FOURTH sunrise on Earth, Lysandra settled into a daily cycle of cleaning, tending to Avery, fixing food for the Elites, and reading books on the last thousand years of their people’s history. Often, Lady Dynasty and her Shadow Lady, Hanna, joined her in the evenings and they read together.

  This world was so different. Nothing felt right. Although Lady Dynasty provided her with clothing, it didn’t fit comfortably. It had been too long since she’d been cinched up in long gowns. They had finally fitted her with a modern style Hanna called a maxi-dress. The gowns were long but sleeveless, their material light and loose. Lady Dynasty assured her she was both modest and fashionable. Not that she cared about the latter.

  Lysandra did enjoy the running water—hot running water. She stared at the steaming flow that came forth from a silver decorative tube. Lights that illuminated at the flip of a switch, a handheld device called a cell phone that allowed people to communicate over any distance, television, refrigerators, electric ovens, ironing board, washing and drying machines; there was so much to marvel at.

  So much to learn…

  The Holy City of Delphi was primitive in comparison. Then again, what did she require hot water for up there? They did not eat, sleep, wear clothing, watch the animated television boxes.

  On this planet, she was human again. For the first time in nearly a thousand years, Lysandra felt hunger, exhaustion, the need to empty her bladder—praise the gods for toilet tissue. She bathed daily. It appalled her to think she might smell. Some of these necessities frustrated her to no end, but the first time she tasted a warm chocolate chip cookie and soaked her body in a hot tub of floral scented water, she quit internally complaining about how the ovens didn’t cook food like a fire.

  Thus far, all of the warriors she’d tended to were polite and kind, with the exclusion of one. Cutter visited and she thoroughly enjoyed speaking with him about his familial heritage. Philippe was distant and quiet, but polite. Brenden carried a tremendous emotional burden that she wanted to free him of. Most of his visits ended up with him confiding in her.

  In contrast to the others was Yankee. Flirtatious and crude, he had a mouth like the back end of a donkey. If not questioning her virginal status or the nudity in Delphi, he stared at her with predatory eyes.

  Then there was Dante.

  From the first moment she laid eyes on him, she was under his spell. To call him anything but fierce and strong and handsome would be an insult. His body was muscular and wide; his shoulders were like great stones, round and bulging, the body of a noble Thracian warrior. Unlike the others, he seemed almost shy. He could barely look her in the eyes, yet she often caught him staring. Lysandra couldn’t help but flick her gaze to him every few minutes. Their eyes would meet, connect for a heartbeat, then dance away.

  She loved those heartbeats when they were connected.

  On her second day, she’d tried to engage him in conversation by mentioning how glorious the roses smelled. The windows were open and the breeze carried their aroma from the gardens below right into the room.

  “The flowers in Delphi do not carry scent. Did you know that?”

  He cleared his throat and shook his head, unable to look at her.

  “Everything that would appeal to the senses is muted. The flowers are pretty, but not radiant. They do not feel real. The texture is poorly replicated. I think I’ll ask Hanna to bring me one, so I can compare—”

  “I can.” He shot to his feet.

  “Oh.” Her hand went to her chest. “Do not bother yourself, mighty warrior. I am positive the books you study are much more important than—”

  “It will only take a moment.”

  Dante retrieved a most lovely bloom. The white and pink rose overjoyed her. She bragged and bragged about the scent, the softness, the colors. She even made him touch and smell it. The blush of his cheeks sent her heart to fluttering.

  It broke some of the tension between them, for which she was grateful.

  “Are you good here?” he asked as she placed the flower in a vase.

  She didn’t understand the question so he rephrased it. “Is everyone treating you kindly?”

  “Yes. Lady Dynasty and Hanna are very sweet. Almost all the guards have been cordial.”

  “Almost?”

  “Not to speak ill of him, but Yankee is,” she searched for the right word, “difficult.”

  Dante laughed. “Don’t be offended. He is a jerk to everyone. If he didn’t like you, he would shoot you.”

  Lysandra gasped. “Do you mean that in the literal sense?”

  “Given his initial greeting, what do you think?” He shrugged, drawing her eyes to his firm, round shoulders.

  She pinched her lips and nodded.

  “If Yankee thought for one minute you were a threat, he would send you right back up to the Heavens, Oracle. Consider it a compliment that he remains in your presence at all.”

  The next time Dante came to sit with her—no, with Avery—he brought a different flower, a sprig of lavender. The next day, it was an orchid. He would hand her the flower, accept her thanks, and then retreat to his books. Unless she asked him a direct question about how something functioned, he was quiet.

  Lysandra asked as many questions as she could think of. He had explained every contraption and mechanism in their palatial suite twice.

  On her fifth day, Lysandra accepted another rose bloom graciously. “These are my favorite.” She smiled at this kind warrior, wondering how he could be as brutal as a Thracian soldier was famed to be. His power must be immense, so frightening that their legend alone would strike fear in the heart of the enemy.

  In an effort to get him to engage her, she asked.

  “My gift?” he questioned, his eyes darting away from hers and back to the book that lay open over his leg.

  “Yes. I am aware of the others’ but not yours. Yankee has great strength, Brenden is a shapeshifter, Cutter is a legendary swordsman, and Philippe controls the elements. But I do not know of your skills, warrior.”

  Dante rubbed the back of his neck and fidgeted. “Well, I…” He looked up at her from his seated position. “I block Olympian gifts.” Once again, his eyes went to the floor and the blush rose on his face.

  Lysandra took the seat next to him. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

  Dante flinched away at her proximity. He leaned over on his knees and popped his knuckles; she’d noticed this action before.

  “Why do you do that to your fingers?”

  “Nervous habit.” Dante shook out his hands and inhaled deeply.

  “Are you nervous?” She tilted her head in inquiry. “I admit I am. I have not been in the presence of a man in a long time, much less a mighty warrior such as you. I am afraid I have forgotten the protocol. Should I kneel before you?”

  “No.” Dante jerked back as if she’d slapped him, held up his hands to halt her movement towards him. “You’re fine just how you are.”

  “Do you not care for my presence?” As much confidence as her question held, internally, she feared he would say he didn’t. Odd, since she’d not ever cared what a male thought of her.

  “It’s nothing like that.” The red on his angelic face deepened. “I’ve heard of the great Oracles, but I’ve never actually met one.”

  “I’ve heard of the great Thracian Elites, but I’ve never actually met one.” She couldn’t help but grin at him.

  “I’m only an apprentice.”

  “I’m only a priestess.”

  They shared a mutual understanding and a smile. His silken lips curved up and Lysandra mirrored the action. Holy gods and goddesses, he had the most sensual smile she’d ever beheld. It created heat deep in her gut.

  “Here is a promise, mighty warrior; if you will acce
pt me, I shall not reject you.”

  He nodded. “It’s funny, only a few days ago, I had nearly this same conversation with Avery. She was raised in the human world, had no idea about what she was. She’s a hugger.” Dante chuckled. “She didn’t know what a big deal touch was to many people, including Ryse.”

  “What transpired?”

  “Brenden was raised in the human world too and they have that touchy-feely thing in common. Then Yankee referred to her as hot.”

  “Hot? Because she manipulates fire?”

  Dante cleared his throat. “No, uh, hot as in attractive, sexually.”

  Lysandra’s eyes widened and she gasped. “He should not say such things about another man’s mate.”

  “I asked her if she was comfortable with him being so familiar in his language, and she said that she didn’t know the stinkin’ rules.” He imitated Avery’s accent and Lysandra giggled. “Then she told me that I could speak freely with her.”

  “And you did?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Yes. I instantly trusted Princess Avery, long before she ever told me I could.”

  “Why?” What did a woman have to do to earn Dante’s trust? And why did she suddenly want it so desperately?

  “The first time we ever saw each other, she walked up and stuck her hand out for me to shake it.” He demonstrated, thrusting his hand out in the air, then placed it back in his lap. “Most people who are aware of my gift guard themselves around me. When I touch someone, I create a boundary. No Olympian magic can exist within it, not even that person’s gifts. That didn’t stop Avery. She was being polite, uncaring of anything else. Even after she knew, she never shied away.”

  “You seem quite taken with Avery.” Jealousy, evil and angry, rose up her spine. The emotion caught her off guard. The icy tone of her voice tipped Dante off that something was amiss.

  “It’s biology, nothing more,” he said quickly. “Thracians are drawn to Divine Graces as nature’s way of insuring we will protect them with our lives, claimed or not. It’s nothing more than that.”

  Didn’t she feel foolish now? “Of course, warrior. I should have remembered such.”

  “I confess, biology or not, Avery won my loyalty by not acting crazy about my gift.”

  “Show me how it works.”

  “What?” Dante shot to his feet to put distance between them. He shook his head and huffed.

  “Show me what Avery did to earn your trust. I know it will not be painful.”

  “No, of course not. But you don’t need to experience it. Take my word on this.” Again, he stepped away.

  Lysandra stood to face him. “I’m not afraid,” she assured him with confidence that this man would never put her in harm’s way.

  “I read that Oracles don’t like to be touched.” He crossed his arms over his chest, but not in defiance or to ward her off. It was more protective-looking. And she did not skip over the fact that he was reading about her kind.

  “Typically, they do not. Touch often stimulates visions for Oracles. If I understand you correctly, that shouldn’t matter in your case. Please, I would like to learn of your unique gift.” Lysandra held out her hands, palms up. She smiled warmly, hoping to encourage him to trust her.

  Dante sighed. “If you insist.” Dante covered her hands with his. The warmth from his body invaded her arm and soaked into her bones. His aura changed, lighting up upon their connection.

  “I feel nothing.” That was only a half truth. The things she felt had nothing to do with his gifts and everything to do with the way his rough hands covered hers or how his clean scent invaded her mind, stimulating her senses.

  “Try to have a vision.”

  Lysandra closed her eyes and reached deep within to the sacred place in her soul where she was joined with the gods. She sought out the link to their divine presence and…

  “Nothing. I can’t feel the gods within me.”

  Dante dropped his hand and put distance between them. “There you go. Now you’ve seen the extent of my gifts.”

  His tone, the quiet sadness therein, hinted that her lack of reaction was nothing new. Was he disappointed with this power?

  “Tell me, warrior, how have you used your gift? You must have stories.” She turned to the couch and sat down, patting the seat next to her.

  He remained standing, but leaned against the fireplace to relax. “Oddly enough, the best stories I have all revolve around her.” He pointed into the next room, where Avery lay sleeping.

  “I wish to hear.”

  “I thought you were an Oracle? Haven’t you seen everything?” His lips twitched and his eyes crinkled with amusement.

  There was a fluttering in her stomach when he smiled again. Her pulse quickened and her cheeks heated. “You tease me?”

  “Maybe.” He looked down at the floor, his foot twisted at the heel.

  Bashful. This huge beast was bashful. She took delight in this revelation.

  “Tell me your point of view, warrior. I can see events but not the individual thoughts or emotions of the people playing them out.”

  It took him a moment to decide he would speak to her. When he did, Lysandra sat still as death, listening to his every word. Watching his lips move gave her a warm sensation in her core. What was this feeling? Why was it so strong around this male in particular? Brenden, Philippe, Cutter, even Yankee, in his own way, were all handsome men. Brenden’s heart belonged to another, but the other men were not mated. She didn’t have this reaction to them. Dante, only Dante turned her upside down.

  When his tale was done, she had a hand over her chest and her pulse pounded beneath. “You highly underestimate your role in this situation, warrior. Without you, Avery might have done something tragic or the teleporter might have taken Salina away. You were a vital part of Princess Avery’s survival.”

  Dante ran a hand through his blond hair and the shining strands fell back around his ears. “I have a lot to learn about real life or death situations. The preparation in the training center is adequate, but I plan on speaking with Master Ryse when he gets back.”

  “Your insight would be of great value, I have no doubt.”

  “Thank you, Lysandra.” The way he said her name made her breath catch. His tone, so soft and kind, was laced with what she hoped was affection.

  Wait. This could not happen. What was she doing? She’d vowed her life to the service of the temple of Apollo. That vow required her body and mind to be pure, not allowing lustful thoughts or unclean acts. These intimate moments with Dante were a violation of those rules. The more time she spent with him, the more she fell under the spell of his voice or lost herself in his eyes, the closer she came to a cliff. This was a slippery slope. One wrong move and she would endanger her position in the temple.

  “You’re welcome, warrior.” She intentionally used a title and not his given name. Names were linked to relationships, and relationships were out of the question for a priestess of the temple. “I must get back to work. Do enjoy your book.”

  There was a very high probability of Dante losing his cool. He sat in the conference room with Bren and Yankee, going over the week’s schedule. Everything was fine until Yankee opened his mouth about Lysandra. Things had quickly gone downhill.

  “Give it a damn break, Yankee,” Brenden sighed as he threw his head back against the office chair.

  “Seriously,” Dante agreed with a shake of his head. “Have some bloody respect.”

  Yankee laughed, his eyes no livelier for the action. “What? She’s a fine piece of ass. Lysandra is prime flesh. You saw her naked. I know you didn’t miss those tits.” He held up his hands as if fondling the subject of his obsession. “They were perfect, ripe for the picking.”

  “Enough.” Dante slapped his pen on the table before he broke the thing in half. “I’ll not have you speaking of the lady in such barbaric terms. She is an Oracle and you should—”

  “Keep my hands off your woman?” Yankee arched a brow and puckered his lip
s to make kissing noises at Dante.

  “No. Of course not. I mean, yes, you should keep your paws off her—”

  “Little Brother has the paws.”

  “—but she is not my woman.”

  Brenden shot Yankee the finger for the reference to Bren’s inner beast, but it didn’t faze the jerk. It was a low blow from Yankee. Bren was considered a mutt among Olympians, able to shift into many animals at once creating a gruesome creature.

  “She’s got the hots for you, Ken Doll. Asked me why none of the Elites were mated, if it was against some rule. She was especially interested in you. I’m telling ya, give it another week and she’ll find a new excuse to spend time with you.” Yankee kicked his boots up on the table and folded his arms behind his head, knowing he’d struck a nerve.

  “Leave it alone, Yankee.” Brenden rubbed his temples. “She’s sworn to the temple. She’s off limits. Can we please get back to this schedule? You’re giving me a headache.”

  “I agree with Brenden. You’re wasting valuable time.” Dante took a deep breath and studied the rotations for the next week. They couldn’t have a pattern of who watched Avery. They all had duties outside of that task that needed to be accomplished so no one grew suspicious.

  Yankee leaned over the table and eyed Dante with a hard stare. “You know what’s a waste of time? Picking a fucking flower every day before you go to see her.”

  Dante stilled.

  Brenden popped his head up. “You what?” His face wrinkled up into an expression of disgust.

  “Tell him.” Yankee waved his arm. “Tell Brenden about how you bring her a rose every day, how she keeps them in a vase next to her bed. Not out in the open, but by her bed.”

  Brenden let out an exasperated sigh and dropped his head, his chin resting on his chest. “Are you insane? C’mon, man. I thought you were smarter than that. For Ares’ sake, Dante, that girl is basically married to Apollo. Besides, don’t you see the situation I’m in with Nikki? Why the hell would you want to follow that path? Don’t bring her gifts and don’t get cozy with her. Nothing good can come of it.”