Dark Enemy Captive (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 5)

by I. T. Lucas

  “I’ve waited for you for close to two thousand years, and now that I have you, I’m done with waiting. I love you, will always love you, and will never stop loving you. I know it like I know that the sun will rise in the morning and set in the evening, and that spring will lead to summer. No doubts. You were, are, and will be the only one for me.”

  Syssi’s eyes misted with tears. “Wow, I have no words…”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Your eyes and your body tell me all I need to know. For now. Later, when you find the words, you’ll tell me.” He quoted her own words back to her. The words she’d spoken to him that first night they had spent together.

  Her eyes foggy with tears, she reached a hand to cup his cheek and smiled. “Well, my love, it seems you found the most beautiful words. And to think you claimed you’re not a romantic.”

  “I had professed to be an uncouth brute, and a crude, insensitive jerk. I’ve never said anything about not being romantic. Though, I’m just telling it as it is.”

  “I love you so much,” Syssi whispered.

  “I know.”

  “No more doubts, I don’t need any more time, let’s do it—a grand wedding to eclipse them all.”

  “What have I done? I’ve created a monster!” Kian gasped in mock horror, then kissed the living daylights out of her. “But seriously,” he said after letting her take a breath, “if you need more time, that’s okay. Just not too long—I’m not a patient guy.”

  “No, I’m diving in, headlong. And if it means that Amanda’s little vacation is cut short, tough. I’m calling her, and she’d better pack her bags and come home right away. I need her.”

  “That’s my girl.” Kian kissed Syssi’s forehead. “Beautiful, lush, smart, and brave.”

  “Brave?”

  “Yes, brave. Bravery is not about the absence of fear: It’s about facing it and conquering it.”

  The little smirk on her face told him that she liked his compliment, but then she said, “If this is so, my love, you need to back your words with actions. It’s time you faced your own fears and conquered them.”

  This was not the answer he’d been expecting.

  And what did she mean by that?

  “Did you just call me a coward?” Kian pinned her arms to her sides.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” A mischievous smile was tugging at her lips. “You might spank me if I did,” she breathed.

  Imp.

  “I’m going to spank you anyway…because you fucking love it.”

  “When?”

  “Not before you tell me what that facing my fears is all about.”

  Turning serious, Syssi sighed, and with a little shrug freed her arms. She then cupped his cheeks with her soft palms. “In your case it is not about fear. It’s about facing the demons of your past and rising above them. You need to go talk to Dalhu.”

  And wasn’t that a complete mood spoiler.

  Damn Doomer.

  “I know. And later today I will. But I want Andrew to be there. Without him to verify it, I won’t believe anything that comes out of that scum’s mouth.”

  “Text him, I’m sure Andrew would gladly offer his lie detector services.”

  CHAPTER 28: ANDREW

  Andrew closed the Maldives file with mixed feelings. He hated that there was nothing for him to report, or rather nothing he could report. The war between the two immortal factions was not a threat to national security, and therefore not something his agency was concerned with.

  Under normal circumstances, he would’ve forwarded the file to the police or the FBI, but there sure as fuck was nothing ordinary about this.

  But be that as it may, the new file assigned to him was so massive that he was glad to be rid of the old one. Someone higher up had either been tipped off, or just had the smarts to realize that airport security should include in its screening not only the travelers, but also the thousands upon thousands of employees; from cleaning crews, mechanics, and other service personnel, to stewardesses and pilots.

  Right now, he had close to two hundred employee files to investigate, and that was only the initial sweep of potential suspects from just one airport.

  If his boss had thought Andrew could do it all by himself, the guy was delusional.

  And as if Andrew hadn’t had enough on his plate, this morning Kian had texted him, asking Andrew to stop by any time that worked for him. Today. Apparently, his unique talent was required for verifying the Doomer’s story.

  There would be no overtime for Andrew this evening, at least not on his official job.

  At five sharp, he headed out, ignoring the raised brow or two his coworkers sported. They would have to get used to him no longer being the last one to leave the office.

  Gone were the days when he had stayed late because there had been nothing and no one waiting for him at home, and he would work, or hit the downstairs gym, until it was late enough for him to join his friends for some drinks at the bar.

  Now, he had a whole bloody clan that needed him. And surprisingly, the added responsibility felt good. Or maybe it was the sense of belonging—of being part of a tribe.

  Even if only on its fringes, he thought as he eased into the designated guest parking of the luxury high-rise. Andrew wondered what it would take for him to get access to the private one underground.

  Hell, he still didn’t even know Kian’s last name.

  True, with a name like that it wasn’t as if the security guard manning the reception desk at the lobby would ask Kian who?

  As soon as Andrew said he was there to see Kian, the two guys at the front desk snapped to attention. One got busy on the phone while the other pointed Andrew to the waiting area. “Someone will be here shortly to escort you upstairs.”

  Ignoring the guard’s suggestion, Andrew did a little walk about the lobby, taking in the opulence he’d been too agitated to notice the first time he’d been here. The space, some thirty feet tall and spanning most of the building’s footprint, was all marble, glass and mirrors. Dotted with contemporary leather sofas and chairs that were grouped around glass tables, and big, green trees he wasn’t sure were real or fake, it looked like the lobby of a high-end hotel.

  But what interested him most were the extensive security measures.

  There were the requisite cameras, though as well hidden as they were, it took someone who knew what to look for to find them.

  The reception slash guard station, as well as any point of entry into the building proper, was separated from the lobby by thick, bulletproof glass. And the only door to the other side had none of the standard key-card entry pads or even a handle. The only way for the thing to open was for a security guy to buzz you in or out.

  Clever.

  But it didn’t end there. Besides the three elevators visible through the glass partition, Andrew knew there were three more on the other side. Though to get to them from the lobby, one had to not only be buzzed in but have a key-card to another inconspicuous door—labeled Maintenance.

  Waiting for his escort, Andrew didn’t watch the bank of elevators this time, but the beautiful flower arrangement further away at the back wall, or rather the alcove to its right.

  The one leading to a short corridor and the door labeled Maintenance.

  He didn’t have to wait long until a burly guy emerged from that alcove, but not one of the Guardians Andrew had met before. Still, the man, or immortal, had no trouble figuring who Andrew was. Though not necessarily because he knew who to look for, but simply because Andrew was the only one the other side of the glass.

  “Bhathian.” The guy offered his hand.

  Apparently, no one here bothered with last names. Which kind of made sense for those hundreds of years old. Last names were, after all, a recent invention, evolving from the medieval naming practice which had been based on an individual’s occupation, or where they were from, or the name of their clan.

  “Andrew.” Shaking Bhathian’s hand, Andrew omitted his own surname. W
hen in Rome, do as the Romans do… and all that.

  The big guy wasn’t one for small talk, and they made their way to the private bank of elevators in silence.

  After getting out on basement level three, Bhathian stopped in front of the first door that was made of glass as opposed to the solid metal of the other doors they’d passed by. “First, let me check if Kian is ready to see you.”

  Behind the double door was a large, nicely kitted-out office, with a conference table in its center, and a desk at the back, where Kian was busy on the phone.

  He cast Andrew an apologetic glance.

  “Let’s go.” Bhathian pulled out his phone and lifted it up for Kian to see, then waited until Kian nodded. “You hungry?” he asked, heading down the same corridor.

  “It depends on what you’re offering.”

  The guy’s scowl deepened. “If you like all that crappy veggie stuff, then you’re going to love it, but if you were hoping for meat, you’re shit out of luck.”

  “I’m fine with the veggies.”

  “Good, because that is all Okidu is cooking.”

  “You have a cook?”

  “No, not really.”

  Andrew waited to hear the rest, but evidently it was all Bhathian was going to say.

  Surly son of a bitch.

  The guy was built like a pro-wrestler and had the nasty disposition to match. Tall, he was about Kian’s height, but probably outweighed Syssi’s boyfriend by at least a hundred pounds.

  Still, despite his intimidating size and his bushy, dark eyebrows being clenched in what appeared to be a permanent scowl, Bhathian wasn’t a bad looking dude. In fact, the ladies probably found him attractive, particularly those who were into the big, tough, silent types.

  “Take a seat.” Bhathian motioned to a barstool as they entered the huge, commercial style kitchen.

  There was no dining table per se, only a long stainless-steel prep area with several barstools thrown in at one end.

  Bhathian pulled out a half empty pan of lasagna from a warming drawer and a couple of beers from the fridge, and brought the loot to the table, then went back for plates and utensils.

  “Dig in,” he said after scooping half of the leftover lasagna onto his plate.

  As Andrew piled his plate with the rest of it, Bhathian wolfed down several forkfuls, then took a swig from his beer. “So, you’re Syssi’s brother…” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “And you’re some kind of commando or Special Ops as they call it today, right?”

  “Not anymore, retired. Now I’m a desk jockey. Though still in the same field.”

  “Retired? At your age?”

  Andrew was starting to like the guy. “Too old for active duty.”

  “Anandur told me he was impressed with your skills, you know, on both missions.”

  The guy was either trying to make conversation or working up to something.

  “Old age has one advantage. It entails a lot of experience.”

  Bhathian snorted. “Old age… you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. Compared to me you’re an infant.”

  Now, that was a tad offensive…

  “Yeah, well, I do have a lot of experience in particular kinds of situations, which makes me a valuable asset to my government even from behind a desk.”

  “That you are, you’re a valuable asset to us as well.” Bhathian rubbed his neck, his eyebrows riding even lower. “I…” he started and stopped, “I need a favor…” he gritted, cupping the back of his almost shaved skull with his huge hand.

  Andrew waited for the guy to continue.

  Bhathian avoided Andrew’s eyes when he spoke. “There is something I’ve been trying to find for nearly thirty years and reached a dead end at each turn. But you … you might have access to information that I don’t know even exists…”

  He sucked half his beer on a oner, then faced Andrew. “I’ve never told anyone, and whether you can, or will help me or not, I need to know that this will stay between us.”

  “No problem.”

  Bhathian’s grey eyes were trained on Andrew’s for a long moment before he nodded.

  CHAPTER 29: SYSSI

  “Get out of here?” Amanda gasped.

  “I know, two weeks, crazy… right?”

  “Yeeeee…” All Syssi heard was the yeeping and the swish of wind.

  It was easy to picture Amanda pirouetting on deck with the phone in hand.

  Apparently, her friend, or rather her future sister-in-law, was cruising down the California coast on a luxury yacht.

  The deserter…

  “Yeah, I bet it’s very exciting to hear about it, but planning a wedding that is supposed to be the most memorable event in the clan’s history, not so much. I’m getting an anxiety attack like every five minutes.”

  “Fear not, Amanda the great to the rescue.”

  Syssi’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, thank you. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate your coming back to help me.”

  The long stretch of silence had Syssi tense all over again.

  “I can’t, not yet. But I’m going to work on it from here. We can divide the tasks between the three of us, with you having the last say on all final decisions, of course.” Amanda’s idea sounded reasonable, but after Syssi had her hopes up, the disappointment stung.

  Still, she was being selfish, wasn’t she. Amanda needed to be away just as much as Syssi needed her to be back.

  On the other hand, this wedding was a once in a lifetime affair, while Amanda could go on her vacation whenever. “Yeah, sure. But it’s not the same. I need you here to keep me from falling apart.”

  Amanda sighed. “Oh, sweetie, I know. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can. But I need a little more time.”

  Syssi chewed on her lower lip, debating if she should bring up the thorny subject. But Amanda needed to know. “Kian is finally going to talk to Dalhu, sometimes later today, and he asked Andrew to be there for when he does…”

  “That’s good… Yeah…” Amanda whispered.

  “Talk to me. What’s going on with you?” Syssi wanted to kick herself. Obviously, Amanda wasn’t in a good place despite the cheerful confidence she was fronting. And all Syssi had been concerned with were her own petty problems and her needs. She hadn’t paused to think that maybe it was Amanda who needed her help and not the other way around.

  Some friend you are…

  And Syssi’s problems? What problems? Those were happy problems…

  “Hold on…” Amanda said. “Hey, Lana, go scrub some toilets, would you? I want to talk with my bestie without you eavesdropping.” She shooed this Lana away.

  “Who is Lana?”

  “One of Alex’s crew of Russian lesbos.” Amanda snorted.

  Syssi chuckled. “That sounds interesting, Russian lesbians? How would you know?”

  “Well, the Russian accents give them away…”

  “The lesbian part, you witch!”

  “I’m just kidding, or maybe not, who knows? It’s just that they are so butch. Same short haircut, like really boy short, and muscles that would put most guys to shame. Not to mention a complete lack of manners. Not that their peculiar social graces have anything to do with sexual orientation, it’s just the cherry on top of this crew’s overall feminine, ladylike bearing.”

  “I see. But if they are so rude, what are you still doing there?”

  “I’m curious,” Amanda whispered, though this time it wasn’t a sad, choked up whisper, more like conspiratorial. “Tonight, I’m going to get them drunk and find out what’s going on.” Her whisper was barely audible.

  “Good luck with that…” Amanda had an impressive capacity for alcohol, but compared to the legendary Russians? She would be drunk way before them.

  “Don’t worry. I got it.”

  She probably did. After all, Amanda had some pretty nifty abilities in her bag of tricks. “Are you going to compel them? Or thrall them? Or whatever you call the thing you do?�
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  “I wish it was that easy. But thralling and influencing work only on unsuspecting, receptive minds. Compelling people to do something they are actively resisting is nearly impossible—except for the really weak minded. And in the case of suspicious, stubborn Russians, I don’t think even Yamanu is powerful enough to compel them to spill. But shitloads of vodka might do it.”

  “Okay, Mata Hari. Now tell me where you’re at.”

  Amanda sighed. “I’m in limbo. I can’t stand the sight of Dalhu, knowing he is responsible for Mark’s murder, but I can’t stand being without him either. Even the thought of getting it on with some random guy makes me want to retch. So yeah, I’m screwed, and not in a good way.”

  Yeah, that was one hell of a conundrum. “You must’ve known he was associated with the murder, it shouldn’t have been such a big shock.”

  “I know. What can I say, I blocked it. And associated is not the same as being the one who ordered it.”

  Damn. What was she supposed to say to that? What would’ve she done in Amanda’s place? Probably the same thing… run as far and as fast as she could.

  “Maybe you should talk with your mother. If anyone has a chance to find a way to reconcile this, it is her.”

  Way to go, Syssi, drop it at someone else’s feet.

  But she had no words of wisdom to offer.

  “I suppose, though I don’t think I’m ready to listen to anything one way or another.”

  “I understand completely. Remember the night at the club? When Kian came to get me?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but just before he showed up, I was convinced that you guys were mafia and that he was the boss…”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, what do you think? You and Kri kept taking guys to the back rooms, and after you were done with whatever you were doing there, they just walked away without as much as a wave goodbye. I thought you were selling them drugs. Then Arwel and Bhathian show up, looking like bodyguards, saying that they came to keep an eye on us but couldn’t sit with me because they didn’t want to infringe on your turf. Combined with the attack at the lab, the secrecy… you get the picture.”