DARK ANGEL'S SEDUCTION (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 15)

by I. T. Lucas

  Calypso laughed. “Put me down. I didn’t spend all this time cooking for it to go to waste. Save that enthusiasm for after dinner.”

  Brundar growled, but the sound that would’ve terrified a grown man had no effect on this woman.

  She pushed on his chest. “Save that growling for later too. I prepared a feast for you, and I’m going to feed you first.”

  Reluctantly, he put her down. “I would rather feast on something else.”

  “Hold that thought.” She reached for the wine. “Let’s add this to the table. You didn’t even look at it.”

  Fuck. Who could think about the table setting with her looking like that?

  Women.

  Sulking, he followed her back to the living room. It looked like Calypso had set the table for a romantic dinner for two, complete with candles and flowers and cloth napkins.

  “It looks nice,” he said, thinking Calypso expected him to say something about it. Brundar couldn’t care less. He would’ve enjoyed this dinner just as much or even more if they were eating it at the kitchen counter.

  She pulled out a chair. “Sit down. I’m going to serve you the best Italian food you ever had.”

  He shook his head. “I should be the one pulling it out for you, not the other way around.”

  She patted the back of the chair. “I’ll make you a deal. Whenever you take me out to a restaurant, I’ll wait patiently for you to do the gentlemanly thing.”

  “Can’t I help in the kitchen or something?”

  She chuckled. “Nope. You stay here and uncork the wine. That’s the only thing I’m allowing you to do other than eating and praising the cook. A few moans of pleasure are acceptable as well.”

  “Mine or yours?” Relenting, he took the seat.

  “Mine will come later.” She winked.

  Brundar moaned. A lot. First when Calypso served the minestrone soup, which was the best he’d ever had, then his eyes rolled back in his head when he took the first bite of her lasagna. Even the salad was terrific, and he wasn’t big on salads or any other kinds of greens.

  When she served the tiramisu, he was so full he felt his stomach had doubled in size.

  Calypso smiled with satisfaction. “Well? Is my Italian better than Gino’s?”

  “The food definitely. The language, I’m not sure. I’ve never heard you speak Italian.”

  She poured him coffee from the carafe. “I’m afraid Gino wins in this department. I don’t speak anything other than English and a tiny bit of Spanish. Do you?”

  “I know a few languages. Not well enough to speak, but I understand.” For some reason, absorbing new languages was easy for immortals. Naturally, some were better at it than others, but most were better than the average human.

  “How about your brother, is he good with languages too?”

  “Yes.” The last thing he wanted was to talk about Anandur.

  “How about other family members?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I would really like to invite your brother to dinner. He doesn't have to bring a date when it’s here.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want him here.”

  “Why?”

  Stubborn woman. What did he have to do to make it clear meeting his family wasn’t on the table?

  He couldn’t tell her she was a forbidden pleasure he shouldn’t have let himself indulge in, and that his family wouldn’t be happy about that indulgence. As long as him having a woman was just a rumor or a guess, no one could demand that he forsake her. As it was, he was living on borrowed time with her, he had no wish to shorten it.

  “It’s complicated. I’m not supposed to have a relationship. It’s one of the conditions of my job. If anyone found out, I would be ordered to stop seeing you.”

  Calypso’s lips tightened into a thin line as she glared at him.

  “You’re lying.”

  Her words felt like a punch to his gut. He might have omitted things and had twisted the truth when he had no choice, but he’d never outright lied to her.

  “Are you really accusing me of being a liar?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. You’re lying straight to my face and not for the first time. Though I’ll be damned if I know why.”

  “What in damnation are you talking about?”

  “Your friend the professor. He is not your friend. You never even met him. The landlady told you about him when you rented the apartment for me. You could’ve told me the truth. You should’ve told me the truth. Why make up the story? So I will feel less guilty about accepting your generosity? I don’t understand.”

  Fuck. He should’ve known Calypso would eventually find out. Except, when he’d come up with the story, he’d had no intention of having a relationship with her. All he’d wanted was for her to accept the apartment without argument, and if she later discovered the truth, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.

  “I didn’t have any friends who needed a house sitter. But you needed a place to stay, and I knew you would refuse the apartment if you knew I was paying for it.”

  “So you decided to lie about it.”

  His palm landed on the table with a thud. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I wanted you safe, and frankly, I didn’t care if you learned about it later. I had no intention of having a relationship with you. I still don’t.”

  “Why?” There were tears in her eyes.

  Brundar was too angry to care.

  She should be grateful and thank him for his kindness and generosity, not attack him as if he’d done something despicable. Other than the fucking apartment, which was a non-issue as far as he was concerned, he had been upfront with her as much as he could’ve been under the circumstances.

  “Because I can’t, and I told you that time and again. I’m breaking the rules by being with you.”

  “Why?” The tears were running freely down her cheeks. “Why are you breaking the rules for me?”

  The woman was driving him mad, using her tears and her incessant questions like weapons and spurring his aggression.

  An enemy holding a sword to Brundar’s throat would have been less of a provocation.

  He did the only thing he could to regain control. Brundar retreated into the zone—the cold and unfeeling place that was his safe haven, where nothing could touch him. Including Calypso’s tears.

  “It was a mistake.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Thank you for dinner.” He walked out.

  Her sobs followed him all the way to his car. Intellectually, he acknowledged them and regretted causing her sorrow. Emotionally, he felt nothing.

  CHAPTER 43: CALLIE

  A full bladder forced Callie out of bed. She didn’t want to wake up, she didn’t want to feel the pain, she wanted to stay asleep and pretend her heart hadn’t been broken into a million shards.

  After Brundar had left, she’d cried for hours, had called in sick and cried some more, until finally falling into an exhausted sleep.

  Trudging to the bathroom, she relieved herself, then went back to bed. But sleep wouldn’t come back. How could it when her mind was racing, and her heart was aching, and her soul was crushed?

  How could he have turned so cold?

  It had happened in front of her eyes. Brundar had shut down, his shields slamming down with an almost audible thud, his eyes becoming flat. No emotion, nothing. Like he wasn’t even there.

  And the worst part was that she couldn’t help blaming herself. What had possessed her to push him like that? Accuse him of lying?

  But it hadn’t been a false accusation. Brundar had lied to her face.

  If his employment terms prohibited him from having a relationship, Anandur would have said so.

  That was the second lie she’d caught him in, and he’d admitted the first one. How many were there?

  Was he married with a bunch of kids, and had all his talk about being married to his job be
en a smokescreen? Did he want to keep her as a mistress? Would Anandur have told her if that was the case?

  God, she felt like a loser playing the ‘what if’ game.

  Her mouth felt disgusting, she needed to brush her teeth, and she desperately needed to get some caffeine in her. Everything would look better once she had her morning coffee.

  As Callie waited for the coffeemaker to provide her salvation, her thoughts kept jumping around like a bunch of helium balloons in a cage, bouncing from the walls to the ceiling and the floor, chaotic.

  Coffee helped her put some order into the mess.

  It didn’t make sense to think Brundar was married. Anandur would’ve been much less accepting of her, or would have at least looked uncomfortable on behalf of his brother. Unless he was a cheater himself.

  But that was a far-fetched scenario, and she pushed it aside.

  His explanation about wanting to ensure her safety sounded true. She hadn’t known him then, and accepting his offer of a place to live was much easier the way he’d presented it. She would’ve refused to let him pay for the apartment, and according to the neighbor, Callie could not have afforded the rent.

  The question was why. He’d been attracted to her from the start but had resisted her not too subtle advances. Which was consistent with the story about his job and not being allowed ongoing relationships.

  But what kind of a job demanded such a thing? Even commandos and other Special Forces soldiers could have girlfriends and wives. Many probably chose not to, given the constant danger they were in, but it certainly wasn’t prohibited.

  Brundar and Anandur’s situation was most likely the same. Getting involved in a long-term relationship wasn’t recommended, but it was not forbidden.

  Which left her with the conclusion that Brundar just didn’t want that. It was about time she accepted that the man was emotionally handicapped and incapable of sharing his life with anyone.

  Even before his brother had hinted at it, she’d known that Brundar had issues. It was quite obvious.

  Her mistake was a classic female pitfall.

  Callie had deluded herself that she could fix him. The worst part was that she’d convinced herself that it wasn’t what she’d been doing. She’d called it pushing, helping him out of his shell, teaching him to communicate better.

  All of that boiled down to her trying to fix him.

  Except, the man didn’t want her to fix him. Furthermore, she knew that trying to change someone was futile. But she’d listened to her heart, and that little liar had made her believe that love conquered all.

  It was time to face the facts.

  She was in love with the idiot. But she wasn’t going to waste her life trying to fix the unfixable. Callie had made that mistake before, and it had landed her in her current predicament. She should’ve learned her lesson.

  Only an idiot kept making the same mistakes and hoping for different results.

  If Brundar wanted her, if he was willing to make an effort, he knew where to find her. At least until she found a new apartment. And a new job. Because she wasn't going to hang around and live off his charity.

  Today was as good a day as any to start.

  It was a little after nine o'clock in the morning, and her doctor’s appointment was at eleven, which meant she would probably be done by twelve. Plenty of time to go apartment and job hunting.

  If only she had a car.

  Change of plans. After her doctor’s appointment, she was going to get herself a car—a used one she could buy for cash. Heather Wilson had no credit history, and no employment record, so leasing one was out of the question even though she would’ve preferred to keep her money for emergencies instead of buying a car with a good chunk of it.

  But it was okay. She was young and healthy and hard working. She had plenty of time to save up for future emergencies.

  Flipping her laptop open, Callie Googled Craigslist and started going over the used cars section.

  A few phone calls later she had a couple of good options she was going to check out.

  CHAPTER 44: LOSHAM

  “Which one is the human you wanted me to take a look at?” Losham asked.

  Rami pointed at a tall, handsome man. “His name is Shawn Davidson. He is a car salesman, a good one. Whenever he talks, the others listen. He has a commanding presence.”

  Taking a seat at the back of the group, Losham spent the next hour observing the guy closely. The quack psychologist was doing a decent job of spurring the men on without going as far as inciting them to commit violence against their exes. Shawn kept throwing around crude jokes and making comments that had the other men laughing and nodding in agreement.

  As the meeting drew to a close, Losham leaned toward Rami’s ear. “He has potential.”

  What the other men saw was a confident, charming, and easy to smile young man who entertained them. But underneath was a seething rage. Losham didn’t like the guy. Shawn was emotionally unstable, and therefore dangerous and unpredictable. The opposite of what Losham valued in a man. But the human fit perfectly into Rami’s plan.

  Providing they could harness all that rage and control it.

  They didn’t need a loose cannon, they needed a charismatic leader. One who could turn a bunch of suburban rejects into Satan-worshipping fanatics who dressed up in robes and performed idiotic rituals, believing wholeheartedly that they were the evil one’s chosen.

  The question was whether the human was not only charismatic but also capable of managing the cult and growing its numbers. Losham was willing to finance the operation, but he wanted to hand the management over to a competent human.

  His and Rami’s time was too valuable to waste on this smokescreen operation.

  As it grew, the cult could start collecting membership fees, and Losham would no longer need to finance it. Maybe he could even make a profit. After all, that was what cults were for—to make their leaders rich by convincing the brainwashed members to surrender their money, and sometimes even their women.

  They could keep the females, Losham wasn’t interested in their subpar stock, only in the profits.

  “Bring him to me,” he told Rami.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The human smiled confidently, even though he was clearly suspicious, and offered his hand. “Shawn Davidson at your service.”

  Losham shook the guy’s hand. “Logan Foresight. Could I have a few minutes of your time, Shawn? I want to make you an offer, but I’d rather not do it here.”

  Shawn chuckled. “Me neither. If you want to talk, let’s do it over beers.”

  “Excellent idea. Do you have a place in mind?”

  When Losham and Rami arrived at the bar Shawn Davidson had chosen, the human was already there, clasping hands with the bartender as if they were old friends. They probably were. Mr. Davidson smelled like a guy who liked to drink. Since he hadn’t started his drinking yet, his body odor was too faint for a human to detect, but not to an immortal. It was the ever-present scent of a heavy drinker.

  Shawn showed them to a booth in the end. “I ordered beers. Domestic okay?”

  Losham wouldn’t touch the thing if he could help it, but he smiled and nodded as if it was fine.

  “How are you enjoying our support group?” Losham started.

  Shawn shrugged. “The shrink is good. No bullshit from that guy. He knows we all have been wronged and doesn't try to sugarcoat it.”

  Losham nodded. “That’s right. We have been wronged, and we need an outlet to express our anger.”

  The waitress arrived with their beers and a bowl of mixed nuts. Shawn didn’t even pretend to pull out his wallet, waiting for Losham to pay. Good. The guy was cheap and greedy. He would do anything for money.

  “So what’s your story, Logan? Your wife left you? Cheated on you?”

  “Something like that. That is why I founded the support group. I like helping other men get their lives back in order. The right order.” He glanced at Shawn meaningfully. “Wher
e I come from, women are not free to do whatever they want like they are here. They are owned. The way it’s supposed to be.”

  Shawn lifted his beer bottle. “Amen to that.”

  Encouraged by Shawn’s response, Losham pushed forward with Mortdh’s age-old propaganda that had worked its magic on countless generations of humans. “Life is so much simpler that way. There can be only one leader in the family, and naturally, it’s the male. Women should obey and serve their husbands.”

  Shawn lifted his bottle again. “You’re my kind of guy, Logan.” He emptied the bottle and signaled the bartender to bring him another one.

  “You are probably wondering about the offer I mentioned.”

  Shawn nodded while stealing glances at the bartender, impatient for his next drink.

  “I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to manage this little pet project of mine. I need someone to lead the group and grow it into a club. I recognize leadership ability when I see it, and you have it in spades. To start with, I’m going to compensate you for your time, generously. When membership grows and becomes more substantial, we will start charging fees and you’ll get a cut of the profits. Basically, I’m handing you a business and financing it. I’m sure a man as smart as yourself recognizes that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  The wheels in Shawn’s head were turning, calculating, appraising. The guy’s expression was guarded, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts—starting with greed and ending in doubt. A few moments later, he admitted he had no idea how to go about it. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Losham leaned back in his chair. “Men need an ideology to serve as the glue that binds them together. If we want to grow this thing into a profitable business, it needs to become a cult. People like rituals, they like feeling special, better than others. We need to sell them on a belief system.”

  Shawn rubbed his jaw. “I’m a salesmen. I can sell anything. But I’m not good at making up that kind of crap.”

  The waitress arrived with Shawn’s beer. “Can I get you guys anything?”

  “No, thank you.” Losham lifted his untouched beer as if he was going to take a sip.