Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (7 page)

The goddess stood on unsteady legs and watched the
hillside. It took longer for her to wake than Bomani expected, long enough his
anger waned. He should have returned to the human realm long ago, but he stayed
out of guilt. He stared down at his palm that still tingled. He feared he had
damaged the goddess by absorbing too much of her living energy. Despite his
hunger being sated, he hated himself for being too weak to carry on without it.

Light green eyes targeted his location. The grip
on her sword tightened. His ruse was up. It had been a calculated risk. He
readied himself to escape but paused when the goddess stowed her weapon and
brushed the sand off her arms. Maybe his plan worked, at least for the moment.

“Ex.” Her husky voice carried in the wind. The steed’s
head jerked up and the animal ambled towards her. Bomani resisted the urge to
do the same. The horse snorted as he passed.

“What the hell happened to you?” The goddess
grabbed the horse’s reins and led him in a circle. She knelt and ran her hand
over the horse’s ribcage. The steed sidestepped at the contact. “Easy, boy.”

A frown marred her beautiful face. Bomani blinked,
unable to break the trance this woman had upon him. How well did Khalfani know
her? Or did he at all? From what Bomani read in the archives, the Underworld
legions had augmented the Creation’s forces. Many dark warriors had lost their
lives out of poor leadership.
Warriors were an expendable resource
,
Khalfani had written in the Commander’s journal.

Bomani’s hatred of the Creation gods grew the
longer he watched this female. She was an outcast not unlike himself. A
potential ally against Bast? Or his bargaining chip? He weighed the risk of
revealing himself.

Bast’s wrath and his expulsion from the human
realm was far too great a risk. He shifted his energy to disappear. A ripple of
dark power slammed into his chest despite the fact he was nothing more than
vapor. The blow forced him to rematerialize, and he arched back, barely missing
the tip of the goddess’ sword.

When had she moved?

No matter, he was on the defensive, dodging several
swipes. The last nicked the unprotected skin of his throat. He took solid form
and grabbed the goddess’ wrist as she arched her sword. He locked his knees to
prevent them from buckling under the force of her blow.
Damn, she was fast.
He kicked and slammed his foot into her hip. She staggered back.

He lunged forward in an attempt to disarm her. She
was faster and stronger than any enemy he had fought before. The sharp blade
grazed his flank and he was met by red eyes and fangs.

Not Creation.

Startled, he hesitated.

She planted her fist with expert precision into
his flank. With both hands restraining her sword, he could not block the blows.
He rammed his knee up into her abdomen. Unfazed, she shifted his weight, knocking
him off balance. His shoulders slammed into the hard sand.

She pounced, jabbed her knees on either side of
his ribcage and squeezed. He was unceremoniously deflowered in two swift moves.

Bomani stilled at the press of her curved blade
into the juncture of his neck and collarbone.

“You hurt my horse,” she hissed and ripped back his
hood. He caught the sharp intake of breath. She blinked and the redness receded
to reveal icy green eyes.

Humiliated, his fight drained from his limbs. His
last vision would be of a beautiful goddess straddled across his waist.

Not a bad death.

Warm fingers grazed his neck and ripped back the
wool material of his shirt. Her fingers descended down his sternum and traced
one of the many scarification tattoos to the legion brand burned into his left
chest. The pressure of the blade’s tip lessened at his neck.

A tremor set to her fingertips as she tracked the
brand’s outline. Heat shot along the lines of his raised scars and circuited
his entire body. Her eyes snapped back to his and her face paled. She leapt
back and landed in the soft sand.

She spared him?

He jerked to his feet and stripped away his now
ruined shirt. There was no point in hiding his markings.

Her widened eyes tracked the expanse of his
tattoos running from neck to waistline and wrists and those were the ones she
could see. When her gaze came to rest on his legion brand, her chest rose and
fell rapidly.

“I do not hurt animals,” he muttered, his pride
lost in the grains of sand beneath his feet. He touched his neck where her
saber cut into his skin. Blood slicked his fingers, but the wound had healed.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He splinted his side with his hand. His inner
demon chastised him for being such a fucking fledgling. He was not sure if his
ego could take much more debasing. “I did not hurt your horse.”

Her eyes darted to her steed. The stallion shoved
his back and Bomani stumbled. Damn if he could not cut a break.

“Execution, get away from him.”

“Execution,” he repeated and snared the horse’s
reins. A warm velvety muzzle greeted his palm. The horse nuzzled his pants
pocket.

“Get away from him,” she snapped, this time at
Bomani.

He tightened his grip on the reins. “Stow your
weapons.”

Black sand kicked up as she pivoted to face him.
“Fine, not that I need them anyway.”

He sneered, a spark of aggression ignited in his
chest at her insult but fizzled before it gained any strength. Despite the
energy he absorbed, his extremities hung heavy, his alpha silent. Conversely,
she had fully recovered, the potency of her gifts threatening to flatten him on
his ass again if he made one wrong move.

He guided the horse forward and held out the
reins. Her gaze targeted him and swiftly swept over his chest. She clasped the
leather straps, but his hand lingered a moment before he finally released it.

“Why are you here—Commander?”

The title sent shards of regret through his chest.
He frowned and ran a hand over his overgrown hair. The reasons were many. His
stupidity. His arrogance. His belief—honor and loyalty meant something.

“Tell me! Quickly because the only thing saving
your ass right now is
that
mark.” She jabbed her finger at him and paced
like a caged panther, agitated and hungry for blood.

“I should ask you the same,” Bomani snapped, his
own dark mood taking hold.

Redness swirled among the green of her eyes. “No,
you should not.” Her fingertips skimmed the saber at her waist.

She stared up at him, unmoving. Her apprehension
over his identity seemed to evaporate in exchange for the goddess who was used
to being in charge. The Destroyer, he reminded himself. He crossed his arms
over his chest. “I am of no threat to you,” he said.

“I think we already established that.” The side of
her mouth curled up in a half smile as she grasped her curvy hips. Bomani
diverted his eyes away from the smooth round mounds of her breasts, but not
before she caught his appraisal. The line of her smile flattened. “Why are you
here?” she repeated, her tone softer, but not much.

He stared out over the water. “I am not sure.” His
admission startled him. Of all the people to share his grief with, an exiler? Angered
by his weakness, he shook his head and turned to walk down the beach.

What the hell was he doing? He should have never
made contact. Bast had warned him not too. He did not listen to Bast about
Kendra and paid a dear price. Maybe the Destroyer would be merciful and just
shove her blade in his back.

A heavy object slammed into his shoulder, and a
large black coconut skipped down the beach. The whistle of another projectile
announced the second volley. He dodged.

The goddess bounced a third in her hand. Her arm
reared back and the coconut sailed towards his head. He snatched it from the
air and closed his fist. White juice exploded between his fingertips, and he
discarded the pieces to the ground. “Are you mad?”

“Some may say so.” She stalked forward, chewing up
the sand between them. Stopping before him she stared up with those disturbing
pale green eyes, like she was peeling away his layers. “Are you ill, Commander?”

“Stop calling me that,” he snarled. He left his
title behind the moment he walked out of the Underworld.

“What shall I call you? Warrior?” Her eyes flicked
to his chest. “Seems understated.”

“Bomani.”

“Bomani. Are you ill?” Her lashes brushed her
cheek. The small tilt of her head brought his attention to her slender neck.
Lethal and feminine. Her moods changed with the breeze. Ready to kill him one
minute. Playful. Concerned. What did Bast want with her? What was her crime?

“Your name?” Bomani asked, ignoring her question
in favor of his own.

She rubbed the lion head emblazed into her
forearm. “You ask a question you already know the answer.”

Sekhmet, the Destroyer.

Despite the knowledge of her given name and mark,
another name danced on his tongue, but stalled there. “What do others call
you?” he asked tightly, finding this whole encounter quite manic. Blood still
clung to her hair but she gave it no mind. She accepted he was not responsible
for the horse’s injuries, even after she caught him stalking her in the
shadows. More confounding, he stayed when he could easily dematerialize and end
this madness.

“We will not go there.” She scratched the base of
her neck and narrowed her eyes. “You do not know why you are here?”

She diverted the attention off herself and back on
him. A habit, no doubt. Surprising, most Generals with her record were
egotists. He knew all too well. He had believed himself to beyond reproach. He was
sorely wrong.

“This is a mistake.” He turned away from her, his
self-hatred burning deep.

“Warriors do not back down from a fight or give
up. Ever!” She wrapped her steel fingers around his bicep and halted him. Hovering
her palm over his legion mark, electrical shocks bore straight into his chest
and along the lines of his scars. “Who has stolen your soul, Bomani?”

Those green eyes tore more of his skin away,
exposing his pain. His soul was not stolen but filled with horrific memories
and god-like powers. Of which, he wanted neither.

Before she saw even more of his flaws and he broke
more of Bast’s rules, he dematerialized. The first warrior to ever run from a
fight.

Who was he, really?

The scorn-ridden question chased him. He feared he
would never know.

Siya snatched empty air.

Damn it!

She rubbed the tingling in her palm. What the hell
was the Underworld Legion Commander doing in the human realm? Maybe Haru cast
his vote to
yes
. Her execution required a unanimous decision. Her
stomach soured at the thought Bomani might be here for her.

“Bomani.” His name rolled from her tongue with
ease. The Commander had his chance to capture her, if that was the Pantheon’s
intent. Instead he hid his presence.

Asar would not allow his Commander to linger in the
human realm and risk breaking the law. Bomani’s disheveled appearance and
length of hair suggested he had been away from Aaru for a while. Very unlikely,
he was on an Underworld mission. Blackness colored his eyes when they should
have been a bright gold. She knew the look all too well as it had dominated her
reflection for decades.

“What do you think he is up to?” She rubbed Execution’s
long nose. A puff a hot breath greeted her hand.

“You like him? That is a first.” And the single
reason she believed the horse’s injury came from another means. Remembering how
Execution had faltered upon exiting, there was a chance Bomani followed her
through the portal. If he witnessed her meeting with Haru, he could be a
liability.

She drummed her fingers against the hilt of her
saber. No stranger to dark warriors, she had fought with them in the ancient
war. One in particular, Khalfani had left an indelible mark on her life. He had
been loyal to her, despite her heritage. A loyalty he did not grant freely. She
remembered the hardness of Khalfani’s face when they first met. Not unlike
Bomani’s. The suspicion and disbelief a female would be his General and lead
the attack on Apep, especially after Khalfani had revolted against the previous
General. It had taken several meetings and carafes of the finest ale to get
Khalfani to come to the table.

Stubborn ox.
She smiled at the thought.

Only after she had personally led the siege on
Thebes did the Commander even look her in the eye. Two more battles and he
agreed to meet with her. The spark between them ignited the minute they
touched. Innocent as the contact, neither could deny their attraction. Dangerous
as it was forbidden.

She loosened the saddle and freed Execution of his
burden. “You heal. I will be back soon. Eat and do not make a mess of the
beach.” She smacked his hindquarter and the horse returned to the sweet
smelling grass.

If Henry had seen Bomani at the docks, he had to
be close to the warehouse. There were several abandoned buildings suitable to
hide. She weighed her options. Bomani’s presence hit too close to home on
several levels. Not to mention, the decimated reven nest and her father’s
appearance just twenty-four hours prior. She shook her head. Gods decreed fate,
so it was no coincidence these events transpired so close together with her at
the very center.

In the last month she sensed the imbalance in the
world. The celestial lines were being drawn. The foreboding pulled at her soul.
She could surrender to it or fight. Haru had said the Mother Goddess had plans.
Did she dare hope?

Siya had no allies and no one to call upon except
the few younglings whom had matured to full gods. Theris and she could not
manage an attack on Menthu alone. Maybe the answer had been staring her in the
face. One wayward warrior—the fiercest of all. The Underworld Legion Commander.

Utilizing her darker gifts, she pulled in her
energy and dematerialized to the human realm to retract the order to leave. She
needed more time.

More time to dance with the devil.