by LJ Vickery
Godsdamned jungle. Bel walked to the opening of her prison cave. As always, it was guarded by two male cats. She pushed her long, limp hair off of her face where the bedraggled locks seemed to constantly be damp with sweat. Ridhawan had better show his fucking face today. She needed a bath in the small river that ran next to the shifter settlement, and since her escape attempt, she wasn’t allowed to go without his express permission. Even then, she had to be accompanied by three shifter females and kept on a tethered line so she couldn’t run again.
During her weeks of confinement, Bel had used her time wisely and done a thorough reconnaissance. She ascertained, early on, that the small village was under some kind of protective shield which made it undetectable to outsiders. But she also recognized, from the resident’s comings and goings, it was not completely impregnable against egress. That was a useful bit of information. People, animals, even bugs―shudder―came and went, she just had to figure out how.
She also knew, from keeping a careful watch, how the rotation of guards worked—where they were at what times of day, and how many were employed. Ridhwan’s warnings her god-like ability to mist in and out and her head-communications were both useless as long she was within one hundred yards of him was always in the back of her mind.
The day she attempted her escape, now two weeks past, she’d waited until the powerful black leopard shifter was nowhere to be seen, and the guards were at a point farthest from the river. She had permission to bathe that day and had demanded her rights at a time that seemed optimum. After splashing about for long minutes in a non-threatening way, she gathered her fortitude and made a run for it. It hadn’t taken much strength to escape her female keepers—she was a goddess after all.
Her breakout had begun well. As soon as she was away, she quickly reached the barrier around the little cat world which she’d attempted to breach. Attempted being the keyword. The evil laughter of Ridhwan’s right-hand men as they emerged from the jungle foliage still echoed in her head. Her egress had been blocked somehow, and she’d been quickly surrounded. Still, Beletseri didn’t go down without a fight.
Fools that they were, they maintained human form to try to stop her, and before they smartened up, she had the satisfaction of snapping one opponent’s leg with a particularly well-placed kick. Unfortunately, her superior reign was short-lived. Quickly realizing their disadvantage, they morphed from their vulnerable bodies into cats. They were no gods, but they were large and powerful when turned…too powerful for one goddess. Bel was pounced upon, bitten, clawed, and otherwise tormented in her naked state. She was subsequently dragged back to her cave and tossed onto the dirt floor like so much garbage.
She remembered the anger and fury that had eaten away at her as she paced her small area of confinement. Ridhwan had played a deliberate game of cat and mouse with her, the prick. He’d known she would try to escape and had purposely neglected to tell her his powers extended to his three deputies. She wondered, when he’d finally been apprised of her attempted escape, how hard he’d laughed…if the bastard even had a sense of humor.
Bel had been left without clothing―but had healed rapidly, thanks to her immortal blood―to stew in her own thoughts for a full day before Ridhwan joined her in the cave. She still recalled every humiliating syllable he’d uttered.
“Big breasts,” he’d sneered. “Useless bags. I prefer my women sleek.” He’d walked around her in a slow circle. “Ass overly plump and skin too white. What could the king possibly see in you? Chances are we haven’t heard from him because he’s moved on to finer…and younger territory.”
Bel held her tongue with difficulty. If Ridhwan had actually contacted the king―instead of Marla as Bel had requested―Nergal hadn’t answered because he was too busy laughing his ass off. Of course, she’d lied. She’d had to say she was queen to make herself more valuable to Ridhwan, possibly winning time for her real mate, Matthew, to come to her rescue.
Nergal, of course, hated her guts and would relish the fact she was out of the way…and out of the lives of all the gods she’d tried to best.
Bringing her mind back to the present, Bel looked out over the peaceful scene of cat-shifter females sweeping out their meager huts where a tumble of kittens frolicked and basked in the sun. What could this group possibly gain by following Ridhwan, by attempting to lure Shamash to their enclave? She hated not having those answers, but there was one thing she did know. The longer it took to hear from Marla or Matthew about a deal to set her free, the more she worried her gamble hadn’t paid off.
Movement to her right caught her eye. Ah. Here was the cat-alyst for all her negative thoughts. Ridhwan, tall, ebony, asshole-ish…and looking svelte in white linen trousers with a matching tank that showed off all the luscious muscles in his upper torso. Who dared look like that? And did he think it would impress her?
Perversely, Bel hoped―as he neared―she stunk to high heaven.
“Ridhwan, darling.” She attempted a sarcastic purr, but it came out snarky at best. “I’ve missed you.” She continued in the same vein, hoping to disguise the weakness that continued to wash over her. “Not that I’ve had time to give you much thought,” she fake pouted. “I’ve had so many things to keep me occupied, rearranging rocks, decorating,”―with puke, but she wouldn’t tell him that― “maintaining correspondence…” She stepped back when he entered and indicated the hash marks on the wall she’d been making. Twenty-six days. She looked down at her wasted body. Another twenty-six and she’d be a walking skeleton. She brought her eyes back to her host and her eyebrows raised.
“My, we don’t look pleased this morning.” She smirked at his extra-dark visage. The prick was ridiculously serious most of the time, but his current glower was a new low. Just another thing to hate about him. Nobody said bad-guys had to be humorless. Take Matthew for instance―she trapped the sigh in her chest that threatened to escape. No. It would do no good to think of her god now. Now was when she had to be on her toes.
“We’ve had a slight setback,” he growled, and she was momentarily without words. It was unlike him to share his plans. The only thing he told her was she was to be used as leverage—swapped for Shamash. Bel wondered what kind of setback Ridhwan referred to.
“Something I need to be concerned about?” Bel tried to keep her voice light.
“Yes and no.” Now, he actually looked worried. Did that bode well or ill for her? “Your husband agreed to a swap.” He paced. “You were to be returned in exchange for the god Shamash, Quinn, and Marla. We had everything set except for the timing of the transaction. Now…” He turned with a roar and punched the wall where her markers adorned the rock. Bel held herself very still. If he attempted to take his anger out on her depleted body, she wasn’t sure she could take it.
Bel quietly backed up a couple of steps. “Now?” she urged as gently as possible.
“Now two wild-cards have been thrown into my plans.”
“Wild-cards?” Bel carefully led him, hoping to hear more.
“Cat-goddesses.” Ridhwan exploded. “Fucking cat-goddesses. I’ve been watching their line as well as a few others for centuries, making sure they all remained minor players. But now? What happens the minute I think I have the prophecy beat? A pair of trivial, diluted bloods surface to join forces with gods.” His silver eyes flashed. “Which raises the maddening possibility that Shamash and Quinn are not the ones I want.”
“Want for what?” Now Beletseri’s curiosity overcame her illness. She found herself moving closer to the black-leopard shifter.
“To fulfill the prophecy,” he spouted. “So, now I need to demand two more in my swap for you which I’m sure your husband will enjoy, immensely…especially since he is most assuredly under pressure from the Blue Hills group as it is. He isn’t going to take my added request lightly, and I may be pushing his limits.” Ridhwan paced again. “The last thing I want to do is rile him to the point where he feels his only option is to oppose me and declare war.”
&nb
sp; Yes. That would be a bloody mess…if the one Ridhwan was dealing with was Nergal. Which it couldn’t possibly be. Bel knew the asshole had to be negotiating with Marla and Matthew because the real king of the Underworld wouldn’t lift a finger for her.
Knowing Matthew was in charge, she wanted to assure her jailer a couple of extra, mostly-mortal “exchangees” wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference to her mate, but she needed to approach it delicately.
“Don’t be looking for cat-astrophes where there may be none,” she soothed. “The thing my husband wants most is for me to be returned, intact and unharmed.” She emphasized the last because Ridhwan seemed to have enjoyed her beating by his captains, and she didn’t want a repeat of that scenario now that she was unwell. “Perhaps if I wrote him a note…texted him…” If she could just get her hands on a phone…
Ridhwan looked at her speculatively. “You might be onto something.” He stroked his chin. “But not a text. A visual missive. You’ll need to be cleaned up, of course, but if we can make a video and send it…”
“…to Marla and my husband,” Bel prompted. The last thing she needed was her sorry ass being broadcast to anyone else. If Nergal or the other gods got a hold of it, she’d probably become YouTube’s number one hit in the immortal realms. Her lips twisted wryly. She was just that well liked.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said with an unmindful wave of his hand. Beletseri could tell his brain had begun racing onto unknown tangents. “It will certainly buy us the time we need.”
“The time you need for what?” Bel couldn’t help asking.
“None of your fucking business.” His head jerked up, and he growled.
Ta-da. Bel curled her lip. Just like that, the Ridhwan she knew and hated magically reappeared.
“Don’t think you can manipulate me, bitch, because instead of a nice loving video, your husband might just start receiving body parts,” he sneered. “I bet that would get his attention.”
“Yes,” Bel replied coldly, “and would also foment the war you are so loathe to call down upon yourself. So, I’d watch it if I were you.”
Without warning, the vicious cat reached out and backhanded her across the face, sending her spinning around, stumbling to her knees in the dirt. When she cleared her dizzy head, she turned a hate-filled glare toward him and regarded him coldly from beneath a curtain of greasy hair.
Was that a look of shock that passed over his features? If so, it was quickly changed into one of disgust. He grunted.
“You’re a mess. You need to eat. I want you looking healthy when we send your image to Nergal.” He walked to the cave opening with determined strides, calling to enlist help.
Huh. She must look pretty bad.
“You,” he yelled out to the left. “Take this woman to the river and make sure she and her clothes are cleaned. And you,” his yowl carried even farther as he gave orders to another group farther off, “travel to the marketplace east of here and find food the goddess can keep in her stomach. If I so much as catch another whiff of vomit in this cave, I will hold you personally responsible.” There was a whimpering answer, and Bel nearly laughed. Good luck to that hapless feline. Even the thought of good food had Bel’s stomach roiling again.
The walk to the river didn’t take long, but the muggy, tropical air actually worked toward clearing her head. She went over what she’d gleaned―what Ridhwan had let slip― again.
One: There was some kind of prophecy, something the black-leopard wanted to fulfill in order to take control. Two: To that end, he thought he needed Shamash and Quinn, a cat-god and a cat-goddess, but Three: Now, he wasn’t sure and needed to eliminate the possibility it might be one of two other cat-goddesses who would make his wishes come true. Four and most importantly: Ridhwan must still be in contact with Marla and Matthew because her ass was still viable as a trade.
A wave of dizziness swept over Bel, and she stumbled over a root. One of the female cat-amounts grabbed her arm, not unkindly until she regained her equilibrium. Shit. She was going downhill fast. Bel really hoped Ridhwan would get things moving. Otherwise, there wasn’t going to be much of her to rescue.
Chapter Twenty
“Mom, do I really have to go back to school?”
Verrie rolled her eyes. They’d been over this a dozen times with her daughter firmly of the belief finishing the last two weeks of her junior year was a complete waste of time. In Verrie’s opinion, it was bad enough the girls had missed the two days after their eventful weekend.
“Absolutely. You have finals. And besides, what am I going to write to your principal? ‘Please excuse Sienna’s absence. She’s been haunted by demons and is being watched over by a group of gods. Hope you have a nice summer?’ Geeze Si, it’s bad enough I had to lie to your father and tell him you’re staying with me at Frank’s house until school’s out and you travel with me back to Colorado.”
“She has a couple of good points, Si,” Riley giggled. “Besides, going to school could be really fun. We’ll have invisible bodyguards the whole time we’re there, and if we don’t know the answers to something on our exams…”
“Hold that thought, Riley-Ann Dewalters.” Verrie noticed Frank’s voice had reverted back to a not-so-thick Boston accent as it would when she was calm. “If I catch you cheating, I’ll make sure you take the whole friggin’ junior year ovah. You got me?”
Riley ducked her head and sent a “We’ll see” look toward Sienna.
Verrie thought the bodyguard thing was pretty funny—odd but funny. Frank, as well as the girls, would have their own invisible escorts. The gods had made it very clear a deity or two would be sticking with each of them for every moment they were outside the Blue Hills property. The immortals were taking no chances anything would happen to Sienna, Riley, or Frank, and for that, Verrie was thankful.
She was also delighted at how things were working out between her and Dumuzi. They’d discovered sexual playtime was their new favorite way to spend the day…and all hours of the dusk and dawn while sleeping the nights away like the dead. It was a kick to find out Muze liked to fuck in a well-lit room, just like her. Dwight had been an under-cover-of darkness type. She liked to use nights for snoozing and recharging her batteries, and so did Muze. And speaking of recharging, Verrie wondered how she was still standing? She stifled a giggle.
The girls had spent their past few days of “compound” time training with a very patient Enlil who was determined they learn to protect themselves against not only humans but gods and other immortals. They’d discovered all other-worldly beings had a life force, much like a heart, when compromised would render them dead or debilitated. It was a huge secret with which to be trusted, but it looked like they were all going to be a part of the god’s lives, so these were secrets they needed to know.
It amused Verrie Frank also took part in the fighting sessions. After having watched for the first half day, her friend developed the utmost respect for Enlil, who she said was tough but sensitive to the girls, and joined in. The prospect of getting older and living in the city by herself after Riley flew the nest was a major factor convincing her to get physically tough.
As for Verrie? She’d taken some lessons from Dumuzi, but they had quickly devolved into sex-play. She snickered. Even though she’d learned the most vulnerable places on her mate’s body, she wasn’t sure the knowledge of those particular spots would help in a fight.
And speaking of mates, the house had begun to buzz with plans about an amulet ceremony for her and Dumuzi to take place the day before a huge celebration of the summer solstice that had been on the god’s docket for quite some time. The events were only a week away which seemed rushed, but once Dumuzi explained the whole “gods have to find their Chosen” thing to her, she understood the need for haste.
Verrie took her leave of the girls and Frank as they prepared for yet another workout. Dumuzi was off doing some reconnaissance with a few of the gods in a part of Malaysia where Marla thought the rogue leopard shift
er might be hiding. So, Verrie went out to the stone veranda at the back of the house and sank into a deeply cushioned chair, turning her face up to the sun.
She hadn’t had any down-time to think before this, but now that she did, her biggest fear reared its ugly head. Something was bothering Dumuzi. She feared he was having second thoughts on her being “the one.” And really, how could he be sure? It was true he’d turned visible for her, but if she understood god-rules correctly, that could mean they had some blood-connection thing. It didn’t necessarily mean she was his forever woman. It bothered her every time a conversation about their impending ceremony popped up, Muze seemed to grow quiet and tense, quickly changing the subject. Verrie could put it down to one of two things. Pre-wedding jitters…or a change of heart.
She needed to know more about what made a Chosen to ascertain if she had anything to fear. And a couple potential fountains of information arrived on the patio just as she’d hoped. Emesh and Douglas walked hand in hand toward her. They’d just come in from an overnight, long-distance haul. Douglas was a trucker, and Emesh had taken to riding along with him for company. The two enormous, hot males were all about the love, so who better to give her the skinny.
Emesh flopped down into one cushy―and luckily sturdy―lounge chair. “I’m beat.” He ran a hand over his magnificent bald head, his ebony skin shiny with sweat. “And it’s too hot out here. Who’s responsible?” he smirked and blinked amorous eyes at his partner.
“That would be the god of summer. Oh. You, Emesh,” Douglas replied, teasing his heated partner.