Tendril Hearts (Immortals Book 11)

by LJ Vickery

  Marduk stayed silent for a long time, and Dumuzi began to despair before figuring out the thunder god was touching base, internally, with his wife. Muze felt his shoulders relax a bit. Between Tess and Marduk, an answer had to be found.

  When Muze noticed a tiny upturn in Marduk’s mouth, he gripped his hands on the desk beneath him. Dare he hope that they’d come up with something?

  “My wife wants to know if, in all of your dialoguing, either one of you has mentioned the “L” word.”

  “What? Love?” Dumuzi looked dumbfounded. “Well, yeah…uh, no… But…” he spluttered, “it isn’t necessary. She knows how I feel about her, and I know how she feels about me…so… The actual words haven’t been said yet…but…” He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and grimaced. “Do you think that’s it? Could it be that easy?” His heart leaped. Maybe it could. He jumped to his feet. “I’m going to go find her right now.” He headed for the door.

  “You’re welcome,” Marduk called out sarcastically.

  “Yeah,” Muze chuckled excitedly over his shoulder. “Thank your wife for me.” He picked up his pace to a jog, trying to focus on where in the house Verrie might be. Kitchen…no. Bedroom…blank. Gym…aha. Gym. He honed in on the multiple voices emanating from that room, and even though he didn’t hear his mate, that’s where she had to be. Sienna, Riley, and Frank were practicing with Enlil, and if he was lucky, Veronica would have shed some of her inhibitions and be working out as well.

  Rather than barge in through the main doors, Muze thought to go the long way around and slip in the back. That way he could stand behind a stack of unused equipment and watch without being seen, keeping Veronica from feeling self-conscious. He skirted the big center room and slid in through the small door off the three-season porch. There was a god already hidden, watching, and Muze felt a smile brush his lips. Damned if it wasn’t Ishkur.

  Hey, buddy, Dumuzi spoke silently and put a hand on the other god’s shoulder. Holy shit. He pulled back his fingers and winced. What the hell? He spun toward a stony-faced Ishkur and was smacked with a completely immutable revelation. Ishkur’s amulet was a blazing inferno.

  You fucking asshole. Dumuzi bellowed in his head. And before Ishkur could answer, Muze had his arm wrapped around the fire god’s neck, had smacked a hand over his mouth, and dragged him backward, out the door. By the time Muze pulled him, kicking and elbowing through the porch doors and onto the back lawn, Ishkur was roaring back at him.

  Cut the shit, Muze. Let me go. Right now, or I won’t be responsible for scorching your roots if you catch me meaning.

  Dumuzi’s was so rattled he reacted in the only way he was able. He turned swamp monster.

  She’s mine, he bawled. You can’t have her. I don’t care if you light up and I don’t. I’ll kill you before I let you touch her. His core hardened to dead-wood and vines wound viciously from his arms and legs, reaching for…strangling Ishkur. Let the god use his fire against him. He’d fight him to the death if need be.

  Muze. Stop. I’m not lit up for Verrie. Ishkur tugged on his vines. Do you hear me? I. Am. Not. Lit. Up. For. Verrie. The words, gritted out tersely, got through, but Dumuzi wasn’t sure what they meant. If the prick wasn’t lighting for Veronica, who was he lit up for? With the small vestige of control left to him before he totally snapped, Muze growled out his question.

  For whom do you light?

  For Frank, you bonehead. Now call off the tendrils, or they’ll be kindling.

  Frank? Dumuzi’s greenery shriveled and retreated, and though he was left swampy, his brain began functioning more fully. You mean, Frank, Frank? As in Verrie’s aunt and Riley’s grandmother?

  Yeah. That’s right. And fuck you. Ishkur sounded anything but pleased, brushing himself off and straightening his clothes.

  Dumuzi stood back and blinked. He didn’t know what to think. Nor was he quite sure―if what Ishkur said was true―why the god of fire would be hiding the happy occurrence. Hell. If he were the one lighting up, gods-dammit, he’d be howling it to the world.

  Why haven’t you told anybody…or approached her? Dumuzi was beginning to regain his body. It was the fastest transformation he’d ever undergone, and oddly, he’d been completely aware the entire time he was vegitated. What a difference since Verrie had entered his life.

  I’m not ready. It doesn’t feel right. At all. Something’s really off, so I don’t want to declare yet. I only feel some kind of…compassion for her. Ishkur scrubbed a hand over his graying five o’clock shadow. He glared at Dumuzi. I tried kissing her and got no lust or possessiveness. Nothing. So if you fucking tell anybody, I’ll turn you into a bonfire.

  I won’t tell anybody if you won’t rat me out. Dumuzi thought he owed Ishkur an explanation. The reason I went so jungle-like on your ass is I haven’t lit for my woman yet.

  No shit? Ishkur’s ire was diverted. But you know she’s the one, right? He didn’t wait for an answer. What am I saying? Of course, she is, or you wouldn’t have lost it so badly.

  Muze knew he must look pathetic. He was half god, half vine-man, and one hundred percent unsure of himself with Veronica. “I was just about to go tell her I love her,” he admitted to Ishkur. “I had a talk with Marduk. He and Tess figured maybe I haven’t lit yet because I haven’t said it.”

  “Well you’re a dick, aren’t you?”

  “Hey,” Muze gave Ishkur a dark look. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Okay, so we’re both dicks, me for kind of leading Frank on,” Ishkur admitted, then shrugged his shoulders. “But I’m ninety-nine percent sure Frank is not my Chosen. You don’t have that excuse. So what do you think? You gonna go tell her now?”

  “I…”

  “Hey boys.” The giddy voices wafted up from the driveway which disappeared into a lower floor garage and was carved into the gully behind them. “What’s up?” The group called out. The goddesses were loaded down with shopping bags, and more than one of them was sporting big hair. They’d really done it up at the mall.

  The ladies misted out and misted back in next to the pair of gods. Candy, Lenore, Holly, Glory, Charlie, Quinn, and Addie-May, all looked very pleased with themselves.

  “Where’s Verrie?” Lenore asked. “We have some things for her.” A waggle of the platinum blonde’s eyebrows told Dumuzi what would be in the small pink bag Lenore dangled in front of him. He sighed. There would be no chance for him to declare his love with such a huge audience. He sucked back in the last of his vegetation and conceded defeat. His poetic soul was going to have to wait until shopping had been discussed.

  “She’s in the gym with Enlil, Frankie, and the girls,” he disclosed.

  “Great.” Glory hooked her arm into his, and Charlie snagged Ishkur. “Let’s go.” Given no choice, the two gods were led back into the sunroom and through the small door to the gym. This time there was no escaping detection by the sparring crew, the incoming chatter reverberating off the walls.

  Candy sped across the gym and threw herself at Enlil, hugging him fiercely, then scooped a foot behind his knees and sent him tumbling backward to the mat. Riley and Sienna squealed, and Frank looked put out.

  “We’ve been tryin’ to do that all aftahnoon,” she groused. “I guess it’s a goddess thing.”

  Amidst all the clamor and prattle, Dumuzi sought out and found Veronica’s eyes, only to find her glaring at him with undisguised anger. Shit. What had he done? Last he’d seen her, they’d had multiple-orgasm sex against his shower wall before he took off for the Malaysian Peninsula. What could possibly have happened since?

  “Dumuzi,” her voice rang out, loud and pissed across the room.

  “Veronica?” He raised his brows and tried to relay with a sour look if she had a problem, airing it in front of everyone wasn’t his normal practice. Surely, what she had to say could wait.

  “You fucking asshole.”

  Or not. Dumuzi steeled himself for what was to come.

  “Were you going to tell me, or were you jus
t going to keep screwing me until you got tired of me and kicked me out?”

  Dumuzi was blindsided, and so was everyone else in the suddenly quiet room. He couldn’t help but notice the shocked look on Sienna’s face. For Veronica to go off without regard to her daughter, the issue had to be huge.

  “Do you want to explain what you mean?” He tried to keep his voice calm and even. “I have no plans to kick you out. We’re going to be mated in a week, remember?”

  “Is that with or without your fucking amulet lighting up?” she asked, arms folded across her heaving chest.

  Oh shit. She’d found out about the damned amulet before he could get to her. What was he supposed to do now?

  “I was going to tell you—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Yeah? Well, don’t bother. The fun’s over buster. It seems I don’t have what it takes to light you up, and you were too much of a coward to tell me. So, rather than leaving me waiting at the altar, I quit right now.” She looked over at her daughter. “Come on, Si. Let’s pack up and get out of here.”

  “Wait, you can’t do that.” Dumuzi still wasn’t a hundred percent certain why he hadn’t lit up, but he sure as shit knew he wanted her to stay. “I love you.” He went for broke, and when his amulet didn’t light, he spread his hands toward her in supplication. “I love you,” he shouted as she continued to walk away.

  And damn. It wasn’t working. What the hell was he going to do now? He couldn’t live without her.

  “Save it, Dumuzi.” Veronica spun and her eyes filled. His heart nearly split in two. She didn’t believe him.

  Fuck. He’d said the words, and his body didn’t believe him, either. Was this how it was going to end? His guts turned over, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

  Muze was so busy trying not to puke as he watched Verrie and her group stride from the room, he barely noticed Quinn frantically gesturing between him and his departing mate.

  He didn’t want help. Didn’t want any interference. What good could Quinn do? Dumuzi threw up a mind-barrier so none of the gods and goddesses could talk to him, try to tell him his business. Quinn, knowing this, grew more pissed off and moved her hands a million miles an hour in front of his face. She could gesticulate all she wanted. He didn’t know sign language.

  What he did know, was that he needed to go think. Alone. Muze whistled for Archie and stalked out the back door, his dog at his heels.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  He was twenty minutes and two miles into the woods before Flick, the DEA agent, caught up with him at a full run.

  “Cripes, Muze. Can you frigging slow down?”

  The god vaguely registered the human who had to be crazy to bust ass coming after him. First off, the run had left the guy sweaty and gasping for breath. Second, if Dumuzi lost it and turned swamp-monster, they wouldn’t so much as find a chromosome left of the godsdamned idiot.

  Dumuzi turned to face the agent. “What do you want, Flick? And make it quick. I’m not feeling patient…if you catch my meaning.”

  Flick blanched but didn’t back down. Muze heard the pounding of feet on leaves heading their way and gave the agent props. He wasn’t so stupid as to have come out alone.

  Scobalt, a deeper blue than usual from his run, came up beside Flick and put a hand to the agent's shoulder. “You should have waited for me,” he said, and the heated look that passed between the two totally pissed Dumuzi off.

  “You’re shitting me, right?” He raised his head and arms and spit the words to the heavens. “Every frigging person in this place can find a partner but me? What the fuck do you want me to do?” He watched his two pursuers blink twice at each other, and Scobalt’s hand fell away.

  “Uh, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Flick’s voice came out rough. “But we’re here because of Quinn. She says she has something to show you. That it’s important. Didn’t you see how upset she was before you took off?”

  Muze snorted. “How could I miss it? She was right up in my face with her hands, but I can’t read that language.”

  “Well, I can.” Flick’s sister had been born deaf, and he was proficient in signing. “She was telling you to stop acting like a big pussy…and that’s a prime compliment from a cat goddess. She said something about the love coming off you in waves whatever that means. You know how she’s always been able to tune into things the rest of us can’t, tapping into that enhanced other senses thing that a lot of deaf people have? Well, hers seemed to have been working overtime, and our normally timid Quinn has flipped out. She’s gone to confront Verrie, and she wants you back at the compound like, right now.”

  “Fuck that,” Dumuzi turned to go, but Scobalt’s voice stopped him.

  “Are you going to give up on your lady just because she protests a little much?” he asked softly with a compelling Teutonic lilt. “Sometimes, you have to fight for what you want.”

  Just who was the blue guy talking to here? Muze thought, seeing Scobalt’s fingers twitch unconsciously in Flick’s direction.

  “You can’t expect love to simply fall in your lap. If you have a true mate, and it takes some time to get things right, the rewards will be even sweeter. Work things out, Dumuzi. Don’t let past fears drive you away.”

  Okay. So, the words fit for him and Verrie, but Muze was no dummy. They were also aimed at the agent who shifted from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at Scobalt.

  Damn. Even if he fixed his own shit, whatever barrier existed between these two guys was way out of his league. Gay relationships were miles away from his expertise. He tried to picture himself orchestrating a blue on caramel kiss between the Latino and the Lauernley but…not happening. The best he could do would be to drop a word to Emesh and Douglas. The male mated pair could be a lot more help than him. Hell. What did he know about love of any variety? Jack-shit if his present situation was any indication.

  “Fine.” Dumuzi turned his feet back toward the house. “I’ll come back with you, but don’t expect Veronica to cave. Once she makes up her mind to something…” He pictured her taking charge in many of the recent sexual adventures they’d had, and the thought made him groan. It wasn’t fair a woman so right for him couldn’t be his mate. He was beginning to see the dilemma Ishkur found himself in, only the exact opposite. And like his old friend, he needed to get himself under control.

  “You know what?” He whipped around to face Flick and Scobalt. “You’re right. I’m not letting her go without a battle.” Dumuzi stood up a little straighter and walked a little faster. “Fuck the amulet thing. I won’t live without Veronica.” And he knew he wouldn’t. If Muze underwent the amulet ceremony with Verrie, and she was not his true Chosen, then the half amulet—which was removed from him to be implanted in her shoulder—would not light. A phantom half would not regenerate in him, and he would die. As simple as that, but Dumuzi refused to dwell on the possibility. Veronica was his Chosen. End of story.

  ****

  Verrie threw things into a suitcase she’d purloined from the same fucking closet where she and Dumuzi had met for their first encounter. It hadn’t made her feel all warm and fuzzy when grabbing the bag, remembering what had happened in that lovely dark space. Shit no. It made her tears come even faster.

  She ignored the imperative knocking at her door.

  Damn him. Damn Dumuzi. Why hadn’t he been honest? She’d fallen for him…hard…and even worse, she’d fallen for the whole “mine for eternity” line of bullshit—hook, line, and sinker. If he’d wanted to play, hell, why hadn’t he just said so? Verrie had been completely and irrevocably attracted to the god. It wouldn’t have been so bad being his plaything without the whole amulet bullshit.

  And what the fuck was up with the gods and amulets thing, anyway? Why couldn’t the all-powerful immortals just marry whomever they wanted and say screw it to the powers who made the rules? Verrie would have been happy spending a normal life-span of time with Dumuzi. Forty years together sounded damned good in lieu of where t
hey stood now―which was nowhere.

  Verrie ignored the pounding on her door for a little longer but eventually, couldn’t stand it. It had to be Sienna who was furious with her for quote “giving up” on the best thing that had ever happened. She did not expect to see Quinn when she yanked open the door.

  “Quinn. Hi, umm…” Verrie looked up and down the hall, expecting to see more faces, but it was strangely quiet. “I’d invite you in, but I’m kind of busy right now. Packing to leave and all.” She gestured behind herself. Verrie wasn’t about to pretend everything was okay, then slink away in the night like a bad date.

  Important thing. Quinn said in god-speak and thrust a small pink bag into Verrie’s fluttering hands, not giving credence to Veronica’s declaration but stalking right past her into the room.

  “What? I don’t understand.” She realized her words had been aimed at the back of Quinn’s head, so were useless, but she was hesitant to use head-talk because she still had a hard time directing it to just one person. She laid a hand on Quinn’s shoulder and turned her around.

  “What’s the bag for?” she asked, holding the small thing up and jiggling it in the air.

  New bra. You put it on. Quinn’s face was unsmiling and resolute. She crossed determined arms over her small chest and glared at Verrie, daring her to disagree. Verrie was no pushover and took the challenge.

  “I’m not putting on a bra for whatever fucked up purpose you immortals have in mind, nor am I pausing in my bid to get out of this madhouse.” She dropped the bag between them. It landed with a soft thunk on the carpet. “You can donate this to charity.”

  Don’t piss me off, Quinn replied, having that phrase down pat. This for your own good. You thank me soon.