by Aja James
“Pay attention people,” Eveline reminded them, and everyone snapped their eyes back to the Seer.
“Remember when we were researching into Inanna’s past? When we didn’t know whether or why the union between a Dark One and a Pure One was forbidden?”
The female in question nodded. “That was when you also found the article with the clues that led us to Japan, to Papa.”
Inanna reached for Tal’s hand as she spoke, and the General squeezed her back reassuringly.
“Yes, but it’s not the accounts of Ishtar and Tal’s union that I find most relevant here, though that is part of it,” Eveline said, her eyes alighting with that fierce spark that Sophia had noticed before.
“It is the issue from the union that I think is most pertinent. Legend has it that the child of the ‘Leader’ is the ‘Light-Bringer’. Someone who will appear when the world is in turmoil. This person will help us distinguish right and wrong and find the way to the truth. It is written thusly in the Zodiac Prophesies, as well as the Zodiac Scrolls.”
Inanna looked at Tal and nodded.
“Yes, that is why I now have this title among the Pure Ones, is it not? The Leader is Papa, and I am the Light Bringer.”
A slight grimace, almost apologetic, passed over Eveline’s face.
“Well…I may have misinterpreted those lines,” the Seer admitted, abashed.
“Misinterpreted how?” it was Tal-Telal who asked, staring at her with his piercing, aquamarine eyes.
Though the opacity of his forced blindness had begun to clear recently, he remained unseeing. At least, not in the normal sense. His Gift allowed him to “see” in a different way.
“The text refers to a ‘child,’” Eveline explained, looking back at the General, “and now we know that you and Ishtar have more than one child. Twins. A boy and a girl. It could very well be that the Crea…er…Erebu—is the prophesized Light Bringer instead.”
Again, Sophia’s heart thrashed in its cage, flashing her body with hot and cold. This felt right. It was important.
She looked across the table at Tal and Inanna and saw that they felt it too.
“I’ve always wondered why my Gift hasn’t changed at all,” Inanna murmured. “I thought that being the Light Bringer would lead to crucial revelations, something to help us turn the tide of this subversive war with our enemies. But I feel no different. Only stronger physically, mentally and emotionally because of my Mating with Gabriel.”
A loud buzzing started in Sophia’s ears, deafening her to external sounds until she felt like she was listening to the debate around her from the bottom of a pool.
Nevertheless, she inserted, speaking past the muffled noises in her ears, the numbing sensation of cotton in her mouth, “What are the exact words, Eveline? Is it ‘child’ or ‘offspring’ or… ‘progeny’?”
Eveline’s eyes lit with alertness. She practically dove across the table to reach a worn piece of parchment, scanning its contents.
“The best translation is ‘descendent,’” she read, immediately looking back at Sophia.
“What are you thinking?”
Sophia’s eyes slowly, involuntarily slid toward the golden boy beside her, who still held her hand in his small, chubby one.
Her heart pounded so fast and furious, she thought she was going into shock. She couldn’t breathe, gasping in short puffs, her chest unbearably tight.
Erebu had made her promise not to tell anyone. She and Liv were the only ones who’d guessed the truth. But this was too important not to share. It could be the missing piece in the puzzle to end all puzzles.
As she struggled to find the voice to speak, everyone looked where she looked. Everyone focused on Benjamin.
“What?” the little boy truly whispered this time, his eyes going round.
Sophia made her decision, one she did not have the time to ponder or regret.
“Benji, sweetheart, would you mind finding Ishtar for us? I think she can really help with the research.”
He frowned a little. “But you were about to tell a big secret, I want to know too!”
“Please, dearest,” Sophia cajoled. Implored. Begging Benji to heed her with intent, glittering eyes.
“But what if you do that thing again—get all scary and dark like?” he protested.
“That’s why you must hurry back, my warrior angel. Meanwhile, I’m in good company with our friends here.”
“But—”
“I will go with you, Benjamin,” Jade said, coming around the table to take the boy by the hand.
“We’ll be back before you know it. The faster we go in search of Mama Bear, the faster we can return.”
Not taking no for an answer, Jade gently but firmly led Benjamin out of the library.
The moment they were out of hearing distance, Sophia turned to the remaining group.
“Benjamin’s mother is Olivia.”
“Yes, we know this,” Inanna said.
“But do you know who his father is?”
The ex-Angel of Death frowned. “No. She never told us. I don’t think she knew who he was herself. I never even got his name, though she’d been obsessed with him her whole life.”
“Does Benjamin know that Gabriel is not his biological father?”
“No,” Inanna murmured. “Gabriel married Olivia before Benji was born to protect them both. He has always been Daddy.”
Inanna’s eyes flashed with defensiveness and warning.
“That doesn’t have to change,” Sophia reassured. “I just wanted to know,”
She took a deep breath and braced herself for the words that came next: “I know who Benji’s real father is.”
The portentous silence in the library was thick enough to cut, as if everyone was holding their breath as well, awaiting Sophia’s reveal.
She stared into Tal’s blind eyes and saw the glimmer of understanding there.
“You know, too, don’t you, General?” she murmured.
“Only a guess,” he rumbled low.
“Papa?” Inanna whispered.
Sophia regarded the rest of her audience.
“Benjamin’s sire is Erebu,” she finally disclosed, to the group’s collective gasp.
“And if I am right, then either Ere or Benji could be the true Light Bringer. In fact, if you take the words literally, Light Bringer means the bringer of light. Benji is pure light and joy, I think we would all agree.”
Everyone nodded.
“That means Erebu is the Bringer of Light, perhaps. Because he brought Benji into this world through Olivia. Or it could mean that Benji himself is the Bringer of Light, because he chases away the darkness within all of us. You saw the proof of it yourself. Just now, in fact. With me. Benji holds back the Destroyer in me.”
“He is the key.”
Chapter Six
When the warrior awoke, he felt the difference immediately.
His body was almost fully healed, inside and out. Strength, vitality, sheer power thrummed through his recharged veins, a living thing that pulsed beneath his skin, tensing his muscles into steel.
Within a millisecond, he assessed the situation down to the most minute detail: Naked, bound, flat on a table, defenseless.
Alone.
A methodical roll of his eyes took in the locations that hid surveillance cameras. He’d noticed before, during the occasional fleeting moments of awareness, that the light from the cameras weren’t blinking. They remained dark now.
Alone and unwatched.
Time to act.
Carefully, he flexed his hands, rolling his wrists slightly, not enough to make the silken shackles that restrained him tighten in reaction. This, too, he’d noticed before—that his bonds reacted to his movements, even his intentions. The more he struggled against them, the more they held him firm.
But something was different. Something about him was different.
She had taken him inside her body again. Her voracious, hot, wet core had milked him dry, just so hi
s testes could produce more cream. Then, she’d swallow it all into her womb again. Endlessly. Over and over. His seed lived within her. And…
She’d penetrated him too. With her fangs. She’d taken his blood.
Good.
The more she absorbed him into herself, the more inextricably bound they became. Two flesh becoming one. The more she fucked him, drank him, the more she’d crave him, until more than flesh merged. Until he possessed her totally.
That was the plan.
The fact that he also required her body, the energy from her soul, her Sustenance, to heal and strengthen was an added bonus.
Time to employ what he’d acquired through their joining.
His programmed mind filtered through its memory banks for the most useful fragments. Before long, he recalled the piece of information that would aid him now.
“I’m giving you command of the zhen that binds him, Sophia,” Rain explained. “They obey you now. They will keep him secure to protect you both, but should you wish it…”
He wished it.
The warrior concentrated on the difference within him, the part that had Mated with her, Sophia, and commanded his bindings to loosen.
At first, there was nothing. The silken threads with the tensile strength of reinforced steel did not respond to his mental command at all.
But then he felt it. A tickling sensation against his skin, wherever the zhen wrapped around his limbs. Followed by an infinitesimal slide, sluggish at first, as if the sentient needles were confused, as if they knew that even though he was linked with Sophia, who was now their Master, it wasn’t the same.
The warrior concentrated harder, relaxing his body by degrees as he did so. He must fool the shackles with his complacency. He was not a threat, his loosened limbs said. He would not do harm, his modulated heartbeat murmured.
Release me, he willed the zhen, though he kept the mental command light, unforceful. I am Sophia’s Mate. Our bodies are one. Her will is my will. And my will is that you release me.
Now.
The needles of hair slowly unwound from his wrists, forearms, biceps, thighs, calves and ankles. He waited until they lay limp like loose silk upon the thinly-padded table.
Rest now. There is no longer need to remain vigilant, he commanded them for good measure.
A soft rustle fluttered through the cut hair, like a sigh. All at once, the needles lost their luster, fading from a shimmering diamond to a dull silver.
Moving slowly, the warrior sat up, doffed the thin sheet that covered him, and stood.
The zhen no longer moved. A few tendrils drifted to the ground lifelessly.
He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the spacious chamber.
Time was of the essence. He didn’t know how long he had before someone came to check on him. His body vibrated with the knowledge of Sophia. He would sense it when she drew near. At least he would have that as a warning. But he could not be sure of others.
A table nearby was still laden with food. He needed fuel. Though his wounds had mostly healed, his stomach clenched with emptiness, his muscles hungry for nutrients and energy.
Swiftly, he wolfed down as much as he could, methodically chewing and swallowing, so that his starving body could better absorb it. Ever alert for disturbances around him. When he’d eaten enough to pad his stomach lining, not enough to feel full, he searched the chamber for useful things.
No weapons. Nothing he could break or shape into them either. But he did find flowing, drawstring pants that fit him. No shoes. Only shirts with no buttons, open in the front. Those would hinder his movement, so he left his upper body bare.
Now the double doors. Locked. He could not open them from the inside.
After a few minutes trying to find a way around them, pry them open, the warrior’s eyes alighted once again on the needles of hair curled innocently on the table. He gathered enough to form the thickness of a braid and came back to the double doors.
I need your help. Tighten into a flat sheet, insert yourself between the doors, and reshape into a crowbar.
The tendrils stirred to life, but again seemed confused. It probably wasn’t everyday their Master commanded them to force open locked doors.
The warrior gathered patience he didn’t have and concentrated the immense strength of his will on the sentient needles.
Finally, they did exactly as he bid, sliding between the double doors and twisting the section toward him into something shaped like a handle.
He took hold of it and paused.
The moment he forced the doors open, an alarm would be triggered, he knew. Though he was unfamiliar with this particular headquarters, he knew about all the security protocols for the previous Shield. Here, he had a good idea what additional precautions the Pure Ones would take. Because if he’d still been the Paladin, he knew what he would do.
Once the alarm was triggered, if he was lucky, he would have less than a couple of minutes before his enemies found him. If he was unlucky, he could encounter them immediately on the other side of the doors.
He focused his senses and amplified their powers to listen beyond the enclosure’s walls.
He could hear the activities in a kitchen and entertainment area farther to the left, movements and words from private apartments above and below. Fortunately, what he was looking for was right down the hall to the right—the sounds of mock battle, weapons clanging, fists meeting flesh.
The Pure Ones’ training hall. That’s where he needed to go.
But he had to time it right. If his assessment held true, some of those additional security measures would be facial or retinal recognition for every door. The old Shield didn’t have this. At most, they used finger prints and motion sensors.
He’d bet that they had them now. He wouldn’t be able to get into the training hall by himself. He had to make sure that when he arrived at the doors, someone was coming out. As he filtered the multitude of noises his hyper-hearing picked up, he concentrated on the sounds coming from the training hall.
This was his chance. He had approximately ten seconds.
With a mighty heave, bolstered by the additional power from his Master’s experiments, he used the tensed zhen as a lever to force open the double doors. In the blink of an eye, he slipped sideways through them before they snapped closed again, the hair wilting in the absence of his will.
He moved swiftly down the corridor toward his destination.
Five seconds.
He used this time to isolate the coordinates of his target. That’s why he was here, after all. That’s why his Master planted him here. She’d calculated the Pure Ones’ every move. Thus far, they’d been extremely predictable.
The target was moving. Not alone. Coming in this direction. ETA ninety seconds.
And now, the warrior arrived in front of the training hall. Perfectly timed, a human Chevalier emerged from within just as he strode by the entrance.
“Hey man,” the human greeted casually.
A stranger.
But then, it had been over a year since the warrior had been one of the Pure Ones. There must be many new faces he didn’t know.
He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, not meeting the man’s eyes, and quickly entered the hall just as the human exited.
With a glance, he saw the camera light above the doors blinking. If his enemies hadn’t noticed his escape from the enclosure, they’d certainly see his entry into the training hall.
It was highly likely that a silent alarm had already sounded. Enemy guards, led by members of the Elite, were probably already on their way. If his luck held, there wouldn’t be many Elite in the training hall. He wasn’t at full capacity yet. He could easily subdue dozens of human or immortal Chevaliers, but the Elite, especially if there was more than one, would push his limits.
“Dalair,” a tall, blond female breathed, her eyes widening at the sight of him.
So much for going unnoticed.
He knew he only had a split second to act befo
re the Elite warrior called Aella would snap out of her momentary surprise at seeing him upright and moving about.
A second was all he needed.
He lunged toward the wall of weapons on his left just as she issued a shout and charged toward him.
Two Chevaliers stood in his way, but they weren’t fast enough to defend against his rapid-fire kicks and elbows as he cut through them with his bare fists, knocking them out cold with maximum efficiency.
Out cold, but not dead. He could have exerted a little more strength in his hits, but he held back. The Master hadn’t ordered him to kill all opponents. She didn’t care how he went about completing his mission. He didn’t care either.
Except…
It seemed unnecessary to kill the weak Chevaliers. Rendering them unconscious was just as effective.
As Aella unleashed her chakrams at his back while she leapt toward him with her superhuman speed, he twisted his torso and turned at the last moment, grabbing a sword and a long dagger from the wall.
Out the corner of his eye, he saw two other enemies—the Elite warrior Tristan and another human Chevalier. This one he did recognize. Adam Morgan. Ex-Navy Seal.
Duly noted, he focused back on Aella, who was closest.
If not for his own hyper-senses, he wouldn’t have been able to counter the speed of her attacks. It was also to his advantage that they used to hunt rogue vampires together, often paired on the same missions. He knew her fighting style. He used that knowledge now to counter her moves.
She came at him like the whirlwind she was, spinning and slicing so fast, he could not avoid a few shallow cuts as he deflected her attacks.
But he was stronger. He healed faster. And he was all but immune to pain. He felt it, he bled, but it didn’t slow him down. He reeled her in close on purpose. One hit was all he needed.
He saw his opening and blocked the downward arc of her chakram with his sword while stabbing forward with the long dagger. As the blade caught the handle of her second chakram, he flicked his wrist and easily twisted the weapon from her hand. In the same move, he slashed across her unprotected torso, slicing a deep gash across her middle. Not deep enough to open her bowels, but deep enough to incapacitate.