Damian's Oracle

by Lizzy Ford

  Logistical arrangements for Quarterly completed.

  He tucked the phone away.

  “We didn’t catch on until one of the new Naturals we just discovered was able to track them,” Rainy continued.

  “A tracker?” Damian asked, impressed. “Impressive. Haven’t seen one in a few thousand years.”

  “That’s what Han said. Good timing. Had to be a woman.”

  Damian looked at him, touching his thoughts long enough to realize Rainy’d volunteered to take on the bodyguard assignment to the beautiful woman in his thoughts. He hid a smile as Rainy turned to him.

  “Four safehouses in six days have been destroyed,” he said. “All in Tucson.”

  Damian sobered, troubled by the news. It was how the destruction of the European front started. The safehouses dropped like flies, then the spy network, then the sector headquarters. The pattern was dangerous, especially since he didn’t know where the leaks were coming from.

  “How many men you need?” he asked.

  “To maintain our operations, three more. To get ahead of the vamps … “ Rainy shook his head. “At this rate, I don’t know. Trac - the Natural tracker was able to identify patterns in the attacks. Ikir, they’re using our tactics against us.”

  Damian crossed his arms. It was the worst news yet. One of his Guardians was training the enemy.

  “Traci’s found signs of the vamps’ surveillance around two more of our safehouses. None at your HQ yet or Sector HQ.”

  No one could find his HQ unless they were on the guest list, or one of his Guardians revealed its location. He maintained a shield around it that made it invisible to those who didn’t know where it was.

  “Burn the safehouses. That’s six. How badly is it impacting you?”

  Rainy rubbed the back of his neck, pensive.

  “It leaves us with two, plus Sector HQ. Ikir, I think Tucson Sector is going to be completely compromised by Christmas.”

  Damian was coming to the same conclusion.

  “The Quarterly is coming up in a week,” he said. “I relocate HQ after each one for security reasons. We’ll evac all Naturals and Guardian assets from Tucson Sector after the Quarterly and send in a clean-up crew.”

  Rainy nodded, a look of relief crossing his features, and Damian saw his mind was on his Natural ward, Traci.

  “I love clean up duty,” he said with a cunning smile.

  Most Guardians did, including Dusty, who personally oversaw every one in his hemisphere. Damian issued few clean-up orders, for there was no way to maintain the discretion his Guardians needed to mask their shadow operations protecting humanity. It was loud and dirty, the type of work they’d ceased two centuries before when human civilization exploded and globalized.

  He thought hard. First Europe, then Tucson Sector. His mind traveled to the sexy oracle, and he wondered if she’d be anything like the oracles from his father’s time. If so, he might have the key to crippling the cancer afflicting his operations.

  If she survived her transformation, that is.

  “Keep me updated, and alert the neighboring sectors,” he ordered. “How many naturals you got in Tucson?”

  “Two.”

  “If you need to send them to HQ or want to evac Sector HQ, go ahead. Don’t worry about knocking. I’ll let Han know you all may be in.”

  “Thank you, Ikir,” Rainy’s voice was quiet, and Damian sensed his heartfelt gratitude.

  “Gods, she’s got you mewling already,” he couldn’t resist saying.

  Rainy tensed.

  “No disrespect, Rain-man. Happy for you.”

  “You’re not upset?” he asked warily. “Dustin says … “

  “… women are the true scourge of mankind. I know,” Damian replied. “He tells me all the time.”

  “Actually, he said no relationships with Naturals,” Rainy said, giving him an odd look.

  Damian laughed.

  “If there’s one thing that drives Dustin crazy, it’s being kept in the dark. Let him know now, before he accidentally finds out,” he advised.

  “Yes, Ikir.”

  Even the younger Guardians referred to him by the ancient title that meant my king. He’d long since lost any lofty delusions, but Dusty was a stickler for discipline and details.

  His phone dinged with a message from Han.

  I don’t know what to do with a crying woman.

  He snorted.

  “Gotta go, Rain-man. Call Dustin. I’ll arrange for evacs and a clean-up crew.”

  “Yes, Ikir.”

  He started to transport himself to the oracle’s room but thought better of it. She was scared enough. He opened his eyes to face Han outside her closed door. His normally stoic XO appeared irritated.

  “She won’t come out, won’t eat,” he said. “Gods, I forgot how difficult it is raising Naturals.”

  Damian clapped him on the arm and opened the door. Her curtains were down to seal away the sunlight, and she was curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed with her back to the door. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow. The unusual sense of tenderness unfurled again in his breast. He sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing one blonde lock from her face.

  Her eyes were swollen and red, the silver glowing in the dim light of the room. Fear and uncertainty crossed her features. The images in her mind were of a little boy dying in the street, of Jake’s death, of the deaths of many others. At his touch, her visions quieted.

  She closed her eyes and uncurled. He’d expected her original reaction to him to be born of shock, but she wrapped her arms around him once again. His body responded with a surge of desire he gritted his teeth against. The woman in his arms was too delicate, too vulnerable to face the lusty beast within him. Instead he shifted and wrapped an arm around her.

  He was beginning to like these peaceful encounters. He’d never known anything like them in his long existence.

  “You need to eat.”

  “No.”

  “If Han hasn’t told you, when I give an order, no one disobeys me,” he said firmly. “Even crying women.”

  “Do you make many women cry?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  She withdrew her face from his chest and looked up at him, her silver-blue eyes filled with emotion. He couldn’t recall seeing anyone as much as an open book as this woman. Her gaze was unusually steady and clear, as if she were already a legendary oracle capable of seeing through whatever was before her. The air around her shimmered with subtle, calm power that thrilled him.

  No, this oracle wasn’t another Claire, full of potential but unable to use most of her abilities. This was an oracle the world hadn’t seen since before the Schism, the type of oracle that belonged at her king’s side.

  Darian.

  The woman in his arms ducked her head again and closed her eyes, missing the flash of darkness that crossed his mind and face. He pushed the thought of his slain brother away but couldn’t escape the lingering sense of unease. There were only two men in the world he’d entrust with his life. He’d seen from burying his brother that a king’s greatest weakness was the woman at his side.

  Something about the woman made him think of things he’d not thought about in ages. There was a reason he banned thoughts of Darian and Claire from his mind, an instinct he’d never been able to face in all the years since Darian’s death.

  I don’t know if I trust my wife, brother.

  Darian’s words haunted him again, and he quickly suppressed the memories.

  “Sleep,” he whispered, releasing a warm burst of power into her.

  Her body obeyed. He held her another minute, resting his chin on her head. His new oracle was dangerous. He’d almost forgotten that the word for oracle in his native tongue also meant soul-reader, the dual nature of a woman with her talent allowing her to see a person’s soul and future with a simple touch. Her presence alone was already prodding free memories he’d thought he’d buried.

/>   His heart skipped a beat as he realized that the last great oracle, his mother, appeared just before the Schism, when the universe was almost destroyed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The clang of steel and sound of jeering drew her from her book to her window. Several of the beefy men living in the house were in the grassy, well-lit courtyard, sparring with swords, knives, and other weaponry that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages.

  Three pairs of two fought while the others cheered or jeered them on. Her gaze swept over them, stopping to rest on Damian. D wore judo pants low enough on his hips that she blushed as her gaze followed the trail of hair that disappeared into his pants. His tapered waist and hips and washboard abs were on display, along with the wide chest and thick back. She watched him move, his swordplay as graceful and fluid as it was lethal. A sheen of sweat coated his body, and his white-blond hair was back in a braid.

  Even from a distance he drew her, and it was not just the chiseled body of a god. She could see him sitting on a golden throne or commanding legions of soldiers.

  In fact, she did see him in those positions, and in many more. The visions were less invasive than those from others, like background music at a department store. She closed her eyes, watching the disjointed, fuzzy home videos playing in her mind. She saw a time before the emergence of human civilization and his people ruled, a time when he was a prince among kings who grew up in the shadow of a war she couldn’t see. Then there was the Schism and an era of disaster and grief, where his world collided with - then severed from - the human one, centuries where he was forced into the underground world as a prostitute, a beggar, a thief.

  As silence fell from the courtyard, she opened her eyes. The men were dispersing, and her heart leapt when she saw Damian’s gaze riveted to her window. His look was intense, much different than the warmth he’d displayed the day before.

  The images in her mind were too real to be imagined. Nothing like that could be true!

  By the look on Damian’s face, he wasn’t happy. She wondered if he knew what she saw. She snatched her jacket and pulled it on as she raced down the stairwell and down the hall to the front door. She jerked it open only to have it pushed shut by an olive hand planted above her head. She cringed at the thick forearm brushing her ear.

  “I’m sorry,” she said immediately.

  “For what?”

  His tone was measured. His scent drove her body wild, the mix of sweat, darkness, and man.

  “I don’t know.”

  His hand dropped, and she faced him. He stood before as he had in the sparring ring, sans any clothing but judo pants. She felt dwarfed and delicate next to the mass of roped muscle and taut skin.

  Heat rose to her face as she stared openly. His chiseled features were unreadable and hard. The sword was still clenched in one hand. The honey eyes were intent, his face flushed from exertion. She’d had never felt overwhelmed by a man before, and she’d certainly never been a woman who felt weak-kneed!

  She leaned back against the door, mouth dry and legs shaky.

  “I’m not angry at you,” he said at last, taking a step back. “You have a rare ability among our kind. I didn’t realize you were as … capable as you are.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not going to eat you, so you can stop looking at me like that,” he said with a bitter edge that was lost on her.

  She looked down, near tears again.

  “That didn’t come out quite right,” he said.

  “Han said you’re moody.”

  “Did he?”

  She nodded.

  “He’s usually right. C’mon. We’ll talk.”

  She trailed him up the stairs, taking in every inch of his perfectly round butt to his slender hips and thick back. She’d never seen a man so strong, and she couldn’t imagine talking to him without remembering how beautiful that body was. Thoughts of his sweaty body poised above hers made her want to swoon for the first time in her life, and her core ached so much from the vision that she gripped the handrail.

  “My god, I’m a man,” she whispered.

  “A what?”

  “Nothing.”

  He led her to his private suite, which took up half of one wing. She sat in the living room as masculine as he, surrounded by wood, wool and leather in dark colors. The window to a balcony was open, allowing in a cool night breeze that made the fire in the hearth dance. She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small and vulnerable once more.

  When he rejoined her, he’d put on a t-shirt and sandals. He leaned back in a chair across from her with muscular, feline grace, managing to appear both at ease and ready to pounce. They gazed at each other until she felt red creep up her neck. She looked towards the fire.

  “Why can’t I touch anyone else but you without seeing … horrible things?” she asked as the silence grew uncomfortable.

  “In my world, you’d be called an oracle, one who can see a person’s future by touching them.”

  She stared at him.

  “It’s a rare gift, trust me,” he said. “And a treasured one. You’ll eventually be able to see other things besides their deaths. Death is the only definite, and so it’s the first vision you see until you hone your skills.”

  Her throat tightened.

  “As for me, well … “ he trailed off. “That shit doesn’t work on me. We’ll leave it at that for now.”

  “I saw you … I saw … “ she didn’t know how to say what she’d seen without seeming like the craziest person in the world.

  “That is what we have to talk about,” he said, leaning towards her. “You will see my past. You will say nothing to anyone about what you see about me.”

  “I’m not doing it on purpose,” she whispered, distraught. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  “I know. However, there are boundaries to your gift that I must give you now. It’s better you learn them from the beginning. One, no matter what you See, you are forbidden from telling the person exactly what you see. If you are asked, you can give them insight into their future, so long as you do not reveal everything. Two, don’t fuck with fate.”

  “I can’t keep such horrible things to myself.”

  “Three, you can’t save the world,” he replied. “You can tell me what you see, if you need to talk about it. Does that work?”

  She frowned, unconvinced. He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them. What the hell was an oracle anyway? How did one just morph into one? Maybe it was the mercury in the tuna she ate or the excessive amounts of chocolate. Could eating fake sweetener turn her into something like this? If so, what would hard water do to a person?

  She laughed.

  Damian stared at her.

  “Sorry. I was thinking … it’s stupid,” she said. “I’m overwhelmed. One day I’m a boring financial planner, and the next day, I can’t go out in sunlight and I see the future.”

  “You’ll be able to go outside once you transform.”

  “What does that mean? Transform into what?”

  “One of us. Our kind tend to live much longer than the average human. You’ll finish transforming soon and will be like a human, just with a very, very long and extended life. Except … “ he trailed off, giving her a considering look.

  “Except what?” she demanded, panicking. “I have three eyes instead of two? I grow a tail?”

  The corner of his lips curved up in amusement once more.

  “Nothing like that. One day, I’ll tell you. You’ll eventually have additional requirements to sustaining your body.”

  “When can I go outside?” she asked again.

  “Soon.”

  They gazed at each other again, and she tried her damndest not to look away. A slow, languid smile crossed his features, one that made her body flush and ache for him. The vision of him on top of her protruded into her thoughts again. She looked away.

  “I’ll always win that ga
me,” he warned.

  You have no idea, she mused. There were a great many things she’d let him do to her to win the game in her head.

  “Like what?”

  She jerked, eyes returning to him.

  “You really can read minds,” she whispered, stricken.

  “Damn straight. I’m willing if you’re willing,” he said with a lazy smile that set her blood alight. He clasped his hands behind his head, giving her an unobstructed view of his body.

  “I’m not some sort of floozy,” she snapped, though she couldn’t help wishing she was. “I don’t sleep with random men, especially those who aren’t … you’re not even human, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  His response chilled her ardor.

  “You’re not?”

  “Nope.”

  “What are you?”

  “I guess you could say I’m a divine spirit of sorts.”

  “A ghost?”

  “Not that kind of spirit.”

  He didn’t expand, and she was too afraid to ask.

  “Good-bye,” she said, standing and all but bolting out of his suite.

  Her head hurt again, this time from trying to digest what he was telling her. She could see the future and he was a … what the hell was he?

  He could read minds.

  It made no sense, but neither did the sudden craving for peanut butter that dragged her to the kitchen, where yet another man she wanted to avoid was lounging. She snagged a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, retreating to her library. Jake followed, and Han was already waiting for her.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  Irritated he continued to disturb her peace, she leveled a glare on him.

  “Transforming. Can’t you tell?”

  He stalked off, and Han glanced down from his bored stare at the ceiling. She didn’t care if he was miserable or not - she didn’t order him to babysit her.

  “Is it dark yet?” she asked him again.

  “Yes.”

  Jake returned with a jug of water.

  “Your shift,” Han said and rose.