Damian's Oracle (12 page)

Darian wouldn’t leave her alone. The scene
played over and over in her thoughts, growing stronger until he was
as vivid during daylight as he had been at night. She rubbed her
temples then issued a challenging glare to the contents of the
pantry, furious once more she could eat none of the wonderful
things it held.

“Gods. She does this a few times a day. She
can’t eat food, but she refuses to admit it to herself,” Han
explained to Pierre. “Since you’ll be her new – “

“Babysitter,” she interjected.

“Exactly. You’ll be holding her hair for her
in the bathroom several times a day.”

“She cannot eat?” Pierre asked with a
frown.

“No. She’s blood bound.”

His look turned from disappointed to
approving.

“Bien.”

“I want food,” Sofia said with a sigh.

Damian hadn’t returned the night before. She
wondered again whether or not he had a harem elsewhere. That
thought coupled with her nightmare made her even angrier at not
being able to eat.

“Go eat,” Han grumbled.

“No.”

“Fine. Let him sleep. He had a rough night
anyway. I know you’re mad at him and thought you’d like to pester
him.”

“Why was his night rough?”

“He had a run-in with a whole bunch of
Czerno’s goons.”

Concerned, Sofia turned to face him.

“Is he ok?”

“He’s fine. Cranky.”

“Then I definitely don’t want to see him,”
she said, eyes going to the ceiling.

He’ll be too sleepy to tempt me. If he
doesn’t refuse me because he’s tired.

He promised.

She returned her gaze to the Pop Tarts.

“Damn you all,” she muttered and closed the
pantry.

“Go. Eat.”

She didn’t acknowledge his order but headed
towards the stairs. Her daily debate about drinking blood made her
pace in front of Damian’s room until he wrenched the door open and
stared at her, bleary-eyed and bare-chested.

“Either come in, or go think somewhere else!”
he snapped.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she said with false
cheerfulness.

He muttered a curse and flung his door open.
She smiled, pleased to see him as pissy as she felt. It was his
turn to be ticked at the world - she was sick of being alone and
angry. She closed the door behind her.

“Han said you were out doing battle last
night,” she said, noticing the shredded t-shirt on the floor.

“This world is so fucked up I don’t know why
I bother.”

He flung himself back into bed. Irritated,
Sofia pulled open the curtains to his windows overlooking the
bed.

“Sofia!” he snarled, burying his head under a
pillow.

“You promised,” she reminded him, enjoying
his misery. “The kitchen is always open.”

He flung out an arm.

“I’m not going to cut you,” she objected.

“Then you’re not going to eat.”

“Fine.”

She started towards the door.

“Stop!”

She turned to see him pull two knives from
under his pillow. He rolled onto his side.

“C’mere.”

“Did you win your battle last night?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

She waited at the edge of the bed. He sliced
his forearm and tucked the knife beneath his pillow once more,
closing his eyes.

“Are you going to get up?” she asked.

“No.”

The sight of him in bed made her blood surge.
His head remained shoved under a pillow, and his body relaxed, as
if he were falling back asleep. Turned on and starving, she
gingerly crawled across the bed and settled beside him on her
belly, pausing guiltily before lapping up the bubbles of blood. She
drank until full.

“Thank you, Damian,” she whispered and placed
a small kiss on his elbow.

His other hand snaked out and rolled her onto
her side beside him. He looped one leg across her hips so she
couldn’t move.

“Damian - “ she protested.

“Hush.”

The curtains closed at his silent command,
and she lay still, waiting for him to make some move on her. He
tucked her against him and fell asleep. The sense of peace
descended upon her again, and she relaxed against him, content to
her soul to be surrounded by his scent and heat.

Usually when he awoke with a hard on and a
woman in his bed, what happened next was pretty straight forward.
He rolled onto his side, watching her sleep. Her cool beauty turned
haunting in the moonlight that slid through the curtains. She lay
sweet and vulnerable on her back, her lips parted and warm body
tucked against his side. He touched her face and trailed a finger
down her neck, between her breasts, and rested his hand on her
stomach.

There were many things he
thought
of
doing to her. He couldn’t risk alienating the woman in his bed,
partially because she was still too delicate, too new to his world
to take the next step and partially because he was still leery of
the powers of an oracle.

“Damian?” her voice, thick with sleep,
ratcheted up his hormones another level.

“I’m here, kiri,” he said.

He brushed stray hairs from her face and
replaced his hand on her stomach. The simple movement took
discipline Dusty would be proud of.

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

“No, kiri. I think you’re a lost angel.”

“I know where I am,” she said with sleepy
stubbornness that made him smile.

She roused herself and lay on her side,
facing him. His hand shifted to her hip, and he felt the absence of
her warmth to the bone. Her eyes glowed and spun. They gazed at
each other for a long moment.

“You’re always welcome in my bed, kiri,” he
said, satisfied when her pupils dilated and her face reddened. She
looked away, embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t say those things,” she
whispered.

“Why not? You’re mine already. You just
haven’t realized it,” he said.

She gave him an agitated look and rolled onto
her stomach, twisting her head away from him.

“Will you answer something personal,
Damian?”

“Shoot.”

“What are you? And don’t tell me a divine
spirit of sorts. That doesn’t make sense to me.”

He pulled her into his body, even as she
refused to look at him. She didn’t resist his touch. She never did,
and yet she never surrendered either. It was an odd mix that warned
him she’d not yet accepted her place in his world.

“My father was the White God, the deity
charged with safeguarding good and battling evil on behalf of all
the creatures of the universe. My brother inherited the title when
he died. I inherited it from him on his death.”

“You’re a god?”

“Yeah. Cool, isn’t it?”

He rested against her, enjoying her
scent.

“Why are you on earth? Shouldn’t you be
floating in the sky somewhere?” she asked skeptically.

He chuckled.

“A long time ago, there was a battle so
horrible it threatened to destroy the whole universe. There are …
creatures older than me in the universe, and they were fighting a
turf war over who ruled what part of the universe. The battle got
so bad that the only way to prevent the annihilation of every being
in the universe was to divide the physical and divine worlds. The
Schism occurred, and some of us were exiled to the physical world -
the human world - while the rest of my kind and the other creatures
were confined to the divine world,” he explained. “So, while I am a
god, I have to stay here, where I’m preordained to fight Czerno,
the Black God, for the fate of humanity.”

As he spoke, memories streamed through his
mind, memories of the universe before the Schism and afterwards,
when he and a few others were cast alone onto earth. He thought
again of the Watcher’s latest warning, of their being a new god in
town.

“Were there many oracles before the
Schism?”

“Oracles are rare but there was at least one
every generation. When the kings of our people found them, they
mated with them to bind them to them.”

“Instead of blood binding?”

“Depended on the king and the oracle. I would
say it was a rough lesson in history when the kings of my time
learned that killing a woman with the intent to bring her back as
your servant doesn’t really work as they’d planned.”

“If you killed me, I’d make your life
hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Who’s Darian?” she asked and pushed herself
up enough to look at him.

Damian’s jaw clenched. When he didn’t answer,
she continued.

“I have dreams about him where he’s sad and
alone.”

“Darian was my brother, Sofia,” he said
quietly. “He died a long time ago.”

He met her gaze and saw her confusion. The
tension between them was thick. He knew without touching her mind
that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She cleared her
throat and lay down again, facing away from him.

“I’m bound to you forever,” she
whispered.

“Yep. You’re mine.”

“Will you … can you have a mate and an
oracle?”

He considered, smiling to himself. For her
sake, he made an effort to behave, but he truly loved the openings
she gave him.

“I can,” he concurred. “Many times, a king
will take an oracle as his mate. But if you don’t stop messing with
my weak heart, I’ll go elsewhere for a mate.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ll say again: you’re welcome in my bed,
preferably naked, though this is good enough for now, I guess.”

“Damian … “

She didn’t finish. He understood. She was
terrified of what she was, of his world, of him. He was a saint
thru-and-thru for rubbing her back instead of seducing her. He
liked that she needed the comfort only he could provide, trusted
him on a level that seemed to him far more intimate than
fucking.

Then again, he was a man, and he didn’t
pretend to understand a woman’s mind.
He’d
never lay down in
a woman’s bed and expect to sleep when they were both horny. It was
purely a woman thing.

“You must miss your brother.”

His thoughts turned dark. He didn’t like that
she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he’d sent
them to. He released a small burst of power into her. She fell into
a deep sleep. Damian wrapped his arm around her and held her close
for a moment, torn between thoughts of her naked and thoughts of
his brother’s death.

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.”