Damian's Oracle

by Lizzy Ford

  A light knock at his door distracted him from both painful thoughts. He covered Sofia with a comforter and closed the door to his bedroom behind him.

  “Come in,” he ordered.

  The door opened, and he froze.

  “Hey, love.”

  Claire was as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. With red hair, glowing skin, a voluptuous body he’d experienced many times over, and beautiful eyes, she was the epitome of beauty.

  “Hello, Claire.”

  She closed the door behind her, dressed in clothing that accentuated her large breasts and tight body. His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind. She looked at him with a coy smile before approaching. He didn’t move, unable to determine if this was a dream or a nightmare. His slain brother’s wife had always been a painful sight for him, the reminder of his brother and a happier time before the Schism.

  She leaned against him, her hand trailing down his chest and settling on his crotch.

  “I see you remember the last time we met,” she said, desire clouding her gaze.

  She kissed him, and he responded, his mind on her and Sofia. It would take Sofia awhile before she came to his bed of her own accord. Claire was ready for him now.

  Her arms slid around him, and he pulled her against him, kissing her hungrily. She gripped his ass the way he liked. He kneaded her breasts, wanting nothing better than to suckle her until she cried out in ecstasy.

  Sofia.

  He pulled back, breathing deeply.

  “C’mon, love, I’m wet for you,” she purred.

  Shit!

  He wanted to fuck someone, and that someone was sleeping in his bed. There was a time when he didn’t care who he slept with, when he was hard at the sight of any woman who would take him to bed.

  “I can’t, Claire,” he said and pushed her away from him.

  Surprised, she tried to move towards him. He held her at arm’s length, forcing himself out of the cloud of desire tormenting him. He wished Sofia would wake up and intrude, her presence bolstering his weak will.

  “Love,” Claire said. “For old time’s sake, please.”

  “Not this time, Claire,” he said with resolution. “Things have changed.”

  Sofia.

  The voice awoke her from her deep slumber. Moonlight slid in through the crack between the curtains. The voices were not happy, and she was surprised to hear one of them. It was a woman’s.

  “… and I’ve told you no,” Damian said. “It ain’t happening, sister.”

  “Why not? We’re so good together.”

  She peeked through the crack in the door to see the voice of the speaker.

  Claire. Darian’s whisper was tortured. He was silent, as if watching. Sofia rubbed her temples but didn’t move, grateful he wasn’t hurting her head for once.

  The woman was beautiful, tall and shapely with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that made no attempt to hide her interest in the bare-chested man before her. Damian’s hair was mussed, and his arms crossed.

  “How long were we a pair?” the woman continued, tracing a finger lazily down his bicep. “Centuries, no?”

  Her accent was exotic and complemented her sexy, sultry voice. He rose and crossed to the window.

  “Claire, no,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were rotating here, or I’d have blocked it.”

  “My love, we’ve been destined for each other since I wed your brother thousands of years ago. We had eyes only for each other then.”

  “And I learned the hard way. What we had is gone. Long gone.”

  “We don’t need love. I know you want me.”

  At his hesitation and the heated, lustful look he gave her, Sofia’s mouth dropped open. He shook his head despite the desire on his face.

  “Come, love. We will fight and fuck together. What else is there?”

  She had a damn good point, Sofia admitted, and hated her for it. She forced herself to peer at them again. Damian’s gaze was on the door to the bedroom, and she ducked back, remembering he could hear her thoughts.

  If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the choice he’d make whether or not she was there.

  “Not possible,” he said.

  She didn’t know if it was meant for her or the woman sidling up to him. Or both.

  “Why not?” Claire purred.

  Sofia peeked out. The woman was all over him! Her boobs were pressed against Damian’s bare chest, and her hands were on his biceps.

  Sofia knew she had no right to claim him, especially when she just rejected him less than an hour before. Fuming anyway, she pushed the curtains away from the balcony door and stepped into the night, winter’s chill taking some of the heat out of her.

  “Stupid men. Always want woman with huge boobs and nothing between their ears. Let’s screw, Damian. We’re good at it, so why not?”

  What in God’s name was wrong with her? Her balcony was several feet from the edge of his. She looked down to the bushes several floors down then decided it was worth the risk. Not wanting to be around to hear Claire get her way, Sofia climbed onto the edge of Damian’s balcony and stretched upward towards the ledge running around the mansion.

  She yelped as someone grabbed her hips and pulled her from the edge of the balcony.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Damian demanded, lowering her to the ground and spinning her to face him. “Are you jumping to your balcony?”

  She glared at him.

  “There’s a door. Use it.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your reunion.”

  His eyes narrowed. His body was warm against hers, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.

  “God, I’m so stupid!” she growled.

  A smile flickered across his face and turned into a laugh.

  “You’re jealous?”

  He hugged her against him.

  “No, of course not!” she snapped, pushing at him.

  “Woman, you’re something else!”

  “Damn you, Damian!”

  “You’re as welcome in my bed as she is!”

  A thrill went through her. Embarrassed at the emotions bubbling within her, she pulled away and folded her arms across her chest, marching into the living room.

  “It’s ok, Damian, really. You can do whatever with Claire. Just put a sock on the doorknob or something so I don’t bother you.”

  “You are very magnanimous to give me permission to do whatever the fuck I want in my own house.”

  “You’re such an ass, Damian!”

  “And you’re fucking naïve.”

  Her face flamed red. She marched herself back to her room, angry and agitated. A breeze flickered her curtain, and she closed it, certain Claire’s cries of ecstasy would soon fill the air around the mansion.

  Alone, her thoughts returned to the dead man alone in the dark room. She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more.

  A few hours later, she sagged against the toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked her and held her hair. She’d refused to see Damian for two days, but she’d seen Claire two million time a day. Everywhere, eating Pop Tarts, eating chocolate, eating broccoli.

  Sofia groaned and held her stomach. Claire could eat! There was no crueler fate in this world than her own!

  “Have you tried crackers?” Pierre asked. “Or maybe antidepressants?”

  She glared at him.

  “We’ve eliminated every other type of food, and the drugs might help you accept that you cannot eat.”

  “Bonjour, Pierre.”

  At her voice, Sofia wanted to throw up again.

  “What’s this?” Claire asked, pausing in the door frame of the bathroom. “Hello, love. I’ve seen you around a lot the past couple of days. Are you one of the help?”

  One of the help?!

  Sofia bit back a retort and forced herself to her feet. The pain in her st
omach was almost crippling. She motioned for Pierre to close the door so she could clean up. When she opened it, Claire gazed at her with a look both guarded and surprised.

  “How … interesting,” she said with a forced smile, looking at her in reproof. “My how things change.”

  She sashayed away. Sofia looked down at herself. She looked decent in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. She wasn’t dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily sparring session. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as smokin’ hot as Claire either. Claire greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and a look so smoldering it made Sofia blush. Damian glanced at the redhead and touched her arm in affectionate greeting.

  Sofia forced her attention to her list. She had checked off three of the seven exercises she’d learned from the books she read. She was so fatigued, she hurt everywhere.

  “Pierre, I’m going to lay down. I’ve lost my will to live today.”

  “Very well, Ikira,” he said with his usual stoicism. “If you decide to live, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  He followed the group to the courtyard to spar. Nearly doubled over in pain, Sofia returned to her room. She clutched her stomach as pain pierced her concentration. Darian was crying, and her head hurt.

  “Pierre recommended I see you. You are so damn stubborn,” Damian snapped, pushing her door open. “What’s the purpose of starving yourself? Jealousy?”

  He closed the door and moved the laptop Pierre had brought her to supplement her oracle research. He sat on the bed beside her and pushed her onto her back. She strained, but he planted one heavy hand on her chest.

  “I’m not sleeping with her, Sofia,” he said and sliced his wrist.

  The scent of his blood overwhelmed any objection she could make, and she snatched his arm. She drank heavily and opened her eyes, surprised to see his eyes open and the gold swirling within them. The tick in his jaw belied how tightly his teeth were clamped.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “I said I’m not sleeping with her.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Stubborn, infuriating woman.”

  She gazed at him, completely aroused and angry at the same time.

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She rolled onto her stomach away from him, blood flying with desire and heat.

  “Gods, woman. In a different time,” he muttered then swore. “When the common sense fairy smacks you upside the head, you know where to find me.”

  He left, as pissed as she was. She sighed. It was getting harder and harder to deny what she felt towards him. In the long silence that followed, she heard Darian’s sobs. She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.

  “Please stop,” she whispered, wondering if oracles could go crazy, too.

  Unable to be alone with the man in her head, she went to her library. Pierre returned a couple of hours later as she as she checked off the fourth box on her list of oracle self-training. He smelled of soap, and his hair was wet.

  “You know the French are the kings and queens of love,” he said and sat in his chair by the door. “I can help you.”

  “That’s the last thing I need.”

  “You would be more pleasant if you fucked him every once in awhile.”

  “Wow, Pierre, that’s the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Forgive me, Ikira.”

  By his tone, he didn’t give a damn what she thought.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We Europeans enjoy a more liberal form of commitment than you Americans.”

  “You sleep around.”

  “Yes, and it’s very relaxing.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with a bunch of men.”

  “You wouldn’t be permitted that freedom, Ikira,” he almost scoffed. “But you have one man you can sleep around with.”

  “He wants Claire and probably has a private brothel in town. Pierre, I’m some sort of monster killed by a psychopath and resurrected that can’t eat real food,” she said bitterly. “The last thing I need is to complicate things more.”

  “It’s not that bad. Claire?” he tsked. “I would not sleep with her. Damaged goods.”

  “Pierre, you can sleep with whomever you want, really.”

  “I know. Why do you not ask him?”

  “To sleep with me?”

  “Oui.”

  Because he would agree. She mulled his proposition and forced her gaze to the paper again.

  5. Test ability to control skill on new target.

  There was one person she wanted to know more about.

  “Do you know where Claire is?”

  “Oui.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He led her from the library, across the courtyard, and into the far wing of the mansion she’d not yet explored. It was a barracks for the Guardians, most of whom greeted her with a quiet good day, Ikira as she passed. The wing housed an indoor basketball court, indoor pool, a small game room, and a huge theatre room where music blared from some action movie. Claire sat beside another Guardian, watching the movie. Sofia didn’t have time to plot how to approach her.

  “Claire,” Pierre said, stooping to kiss her cheek.

  “Bonjour, mon amour,” she purred in response.

  “Ikira wanted to meet you.”

  Claire rose, the smile freezing on her face as she faced Sofia. She forced her own smile, noticing how Claire’s gaze swept over her as if she were an uninvited insect in her bedroom.

  Claire. Darian said again.

  “Hello, Claire,” she said, extending a hand. “I wasn’t able to meet you the other day when you stopped by. I’m … “

  Claire shook her hand, and the visions that protruded into her thoughts floored her.

  Czerno.

  “… I’m Sofia,” she choked out. “I wanted to welcome you.”

  “Enchantee, Sofia. It’s my pleasure,” Claire said. “Pierre will defend you well. Damian couldn’t have chosen a better guard.”

  “Babysitter,” Pierre corrected her.

  “Exactly,” she agreed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “If you must be with a man, it’s good that he’s French,” Claire said with a wink at Pierre. “Please excuse me.”

  Sofia stepped out of her way, trying hard to digest what she’d seen.

  Claire and Czerno in bed together.

  “Sofi!” Damian’s call pulled her from the vision replaying in her head. “C’mon!”

  He waved her out of the theatre and led her towards the mansion. She sensed his excitement and trailed, troubled.

  “Heya, Dust-man!”

  Three men stood in the main foyer, two in the same shade of brown as her bodyguard and a striking man in designer jeans and an expensive sweater. He shook hands with Damian, a small smile on his chiseled features. Dustin was lean and handsome with clear, cool blue eyes and sharp, angular features. His hair was sandy blonde, his skin golden. His noble features and cold, aloof air gave her the impression of an ancient Greek prince.

  “Good to see you, bro,” Damian said with warmth she hadn’t seen him display towards anyone else.

  “Better circumstances this time around,” Dustin said with a glance at her.

  “Hold the salt, Dust-man,” Damian warned. “Sofia, this is Dustin, the commander of the western hemisphere. He helped me rescue you from Czerno.”

  Her face felt warm at the look both gave her.

  “It’s a pleasure, Ikira,” Dustin said and held out his hand to her, palm up.

  She looked at it curiously, then at Damian.

  “You haven’t taught her shit, have you?” Dustin asked Damian.

  “Not the traditional greeting.”

  “Ikira, in our time, an oracle greeted all visitors to the king’s palace to
assess their loyalties to her king. Visitors held out their hands like this,” he said, indicating his outstretched hand. “It’s a sign of the ultimate respect. The visitor is giving you an open invitation to his soul. You have the option to touch me or not.”

  She braced herself and placed her palm against his. His memories were much like Damian’s: fuzzy home videos with no sense of his future. She removed her hand. Dustin assessed her in silence for a few seconds, and she had the feeling his sharp gaze missed nothing.

  “You’re better off than when I saw you last,” he said at last and turned to Damian. “You got time to talk, BFF?”

  Sofia hid a smile at the term of endearment issued from one rock of a man to another.

  “Yep. Before we do, I need to discuss something with both of you. Come.”

  He motioned them both down the hall and into his private study.

  “Pierre, stay.”

  Pierre obeyed and closed the doors behind him.

  “How’s Florida?” Damian asked, crossing to his desk.

  “Good. Looking forward to Christmas.”

  “Don’t expect anything from Jule. He’ll never remember Christmas. I already ordered your present.”

  “That’s why I like you better.”

  “Dusty likes presents,” Damian explained, glancing at her.

  “Good presents,” Dustin clarified. “None of that shit you gave me last year.”

  “You don’t get to pick. A present’s a present.”

  Sofia sat in one of the plush chairs, legs pulled to her chest, and watched their brotherly exchange. Dustin didn’t look like the kind of man who would like anything, let alone presents. She glanced towards the door, mind on what she’d learned earlier.

  Claire. Darian was silent, his voice almost too hushed to make out.

  Damian dropped an envelope on the table in front of her.

  “There are traitors on the council,” Damian started. “Our European front has been growing progressively weaker the past hundred years. They know what they shouldn’t about our capabilities and our weaknesses. Jule’s going crazy trying to keep up.”

  He pulled photos from the envelope as he spoke. Dustin began sorting through them. She didn’t want to look, sensing she’d met a source of their issues already.

  “Sofia, Han tells me you’ve gotten quite good at reading people.”