The Fury (11 page)

“I can help.”

He placed a finger on her lips. “No, you go get cleaned up.”

She frowned. “You’re ordering me around again.”

He frowned back. “And this time, you’re going to do as I say.”

He rose, lifting her along with him, and gently shoved her toward the hallway to the bedroom. Reluctant steps turned into a slow walk, but she complied.

When he heard her close the bedroom door, he went in search of Rufus. He found him in the kitchen. “She’ll need nourishment.”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get some stew cooking on the stove. She had all the makings for it.” He faced Dagan. “How’s she doing?”

He ran a still bloodied hand through his matted hair. “She says Kur didn’t touch her. She seems to be holding up okay, considering she’d just faced the creature.”

“She’s kind of amazing.”

An amazing lunatic. Dagan waved his hand, repairing the front door. He snapped his fingers and a fire roared to life in the fireplace.

A tapping drew his attention back to Rufus, who tasted the stew. He nodded as though pleased with the concoction. He glanced at Dagan’s war torn appearance. “You might want to get cleaned up yourself.”

The
doghume
was right. He walked over and rummaged through the cabinets. He found the Johnnie Black. “Try to get her to eat and drink something when she comes in. I don’t see any brandy, so you can use whiskey.”

“Am I supposed to get her drunk?” Rufus chuckled.

“Not if you want to live,” Dagan growled.

“Just kidding, my man.” He put his hands up in silent surrender. “I know she’s yours.”

That statement hit Dagan hard.

He had no rights over humans other than to save their asses from the demons of the Underworld. As a purebred, the son of two gods, the people worshipped him, but as a time walker, he gave up those rights. Besides, he didn’t feel comfortable having humans worship him.

“I’ll check everything in the house to make sure you’re locked up tight before I go. I’ll make a sweep of the area too.” He grabbed Rufus by the shirt front. “Guard her like your life depends on it.”

Rufus peeled Dagan’s fingers from his shirt. “I know how to do my job, purebred. I’ve never failed before and I don’t intend to start now.”

Dagan registered the anger on the
doghume
’s face. He had insulted him, unintentionally. It would have to wait. He had more important things to worry about.

Dagan appeared inside the gates of the massive garden at Dilmun. His mother, Ninmah, the Earth-Mother Goddess, loved to work with the dark, rich soil. As a result, the garden was the most impressive thing anyone had ever seen. Flowers of every color and type lived all year long. On their planet, Bylari, a home he’d never known but had heard talk of often enough, one year was equivalent to four thousand Earth years. The flowers never lived very long. He supposed that’s why his mother loved this planet so much.

He stood behind a huge palm tree watching the beautiful woman tend the garden. She never used gloves. He’d asked her about it once and she’d said that she loved to feel the dirt sift through her fingers. It reminded her of the flourishing life they had found here. They call Enki the God of Wisdom, but Dagan questioned that. His mother had more wisdom than anyone he’d ever known, and Enki had proven repeatedly that his wisdom could be fooled by a pretty face or a tight ass. He was also the God of Waters, and populations boomed because of it.

“Why do you hide there, my son?” Ninmah called in a soft voice.

He took a deep breath then walked toward her. “I do not hide, my lady, just admiring the beauty of your garden.”

“I do spend a lot of time here, so I hope it is beautiful enough.”

“Never enough for you.” He smiled and reached down to help her up.

“So true.”

She stood only five foot eight so he gazed down at her. A smudge of dirt on her nose made him chuckle and he swept it away before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“What brings you here? I thought you were off
hunting
.” Her beautifully arched brow rose and she gave his appearance the once over. “And are these the kind of clothes you hunt in now?”

He glanced down at his body. He hadn’t changed from the clothes he’d worn to Slow Burn. They were ripped and bloody.

“Humanity is rubbing off on you. Perhaps you should come home and spend a while with us.”

His chin lifted. “This is part of the attire I wore this evening and I
was
hunting.” Hunting for answers, but he didn’t add that part.

“So why are you here in this disheveled state?”

Dagan lowered his head. How to ask her what he needed to know? Would she turn him over to the others for punishment and send someone else to protect Reese? He couldn’t live with that outcome though he chose to tell her the truth. He needed someone to trust and if he couldn’t trust his mother, who then?

“Mother, I have a problem.”

“Only one?” She turned and made her way to the stone bench in the middle of the landscape. “Come sit, and tell me what troubles you.”

He did as she bade him.

“Who is she?” Ninmah asked before he spoke.

Dagan glanced at her. “Who?”

“That was my question.”

She saw through him as well. First Flame then Pyre, now his mother. Was he really that transparent?

“Her name is Reese. I went to the twenty-first century because I sensed a formidable force of
galla
. They are watching her. When I got close enough, I knew why. She is a direct descendent of Enki and her power is strong.”

She nodded as she listened. “I am sure Kur is eager to have her.”

“As am I.”

Ninmah’s head snapped up. “What?”

He rose and walked a few feet away. Now for the hard part. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

“Tell me what you have done, Dagan.”

He felt like a mere child instead of a man who had lived centuries. His mother sat staring at him and waiting for the response he knew he had to give. He’d already come this far.

Sighing, he went back to her.

“I have protected her from two attacks already. The last one, Kur himself showed up.”

“Did he touch her?”

“No, but he promised he’d be back.” He knelt at her feet. “I need to ask you something.”

She caressed his hair and then his cheek. “Ask me anything, my son. I will always be here for you.”

The thought comforted him, but he didn’t know how long that would last once she knew the truth behind the visit.

“Have you ever heard of a
go’ras
not working?”

Frowning in concentration, Ninmah shook her head. “I am aware of no time where a mind erasure did not work.”

That didn’t please him.

“Why would I be drawn to her with so much force that I can barely control it at times?”

She thought for a brief second. “There is only one reason any of us, especially the males, lose control.” She stood. “When you have found your
blethred
.”

Dagan fingered his dark hair still stained with blood. “How can that be? She is human.”

His mother walked away mumbling to herself. He stayed put. With her in deep thought, he’d dare not interrupt.

“This has never happened before.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “The longer we are here and interact with the human race, the stranger things become. This is not the first time something bizarre has happened.”

He resented that she felt his attraction to Reese was bizarre. “What should I do?”

“Have you mated with her?”

Embarrassed at the direction this conversation tilted, Dagan ducked his head. He didn’t want to discuss his sexual relations or the lack thereof with his mother.

“Answer me,” Ninmah ordered as she grabbed his arm.

He cleared his throat. He’d thought about it once or twice, or fifteen or sixteen times. He’d lost count. “No.”

She nodded. “See that you do not.” She released him. “This will have to be reported to the others.”

He cringed. That meant another beating or something worse. You never knew what type of torture the Pantheon would come up with next.

She waved away his concern. “Do not fret. You will not be beaten for this. You cannot help it if she is your
blethred.
Let any among us, especially the Council, demand flesh for this outrage.”

Outrage would surely develop. He had no doubt of that. She faded to peach-colored mist and left him alone in the garden.

This trip confirmed what deep down he’d suspected. Reese Whittaker was his
blethred
, a life mate with whom he would share everything—his blood, his heart, his soul, his life force—as dictated by the custom of his people. Once tied to her, he would know everything about her, every minute of every day for the rest of her natural human life.

“Damn.” What more could happen? He needed to focus on the hunt and stay away from Reese Whittaker.

Kur’s strength waned. It took him longer to materialize in Divinity. He collapsed immediately to the floor and roared his frustration. The sound bounced off the walls. Vile rushed into the room.

“What’s happened?” she asked as she helped him onto the throne and proceeded to remove his shirt.

“I need humans.” He hissed when the material pulled along the gouges. “Dammit.”

“Sorry, my king. I’ll have them brought right away. I’ll get something to clean you up.”

When Vile left, Kur slammed his fists against the stone. “You will taste my wrath, you purebred son of a bitch.”

Vile returned with warm herbal water and cloth to cleanse his wounds. His anger simmered as she knelt before him and smoothed the cloth over cuts that weren’t healing as fast as they should because of his weakened state.

“I’ve sent for some humans.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes.

His skin twitched every time the cloth touched it. The next thing he felt were tentative touches, Vile’s fingertips caressing his mangled flesh. It warmed him and tingles rushed through his entire body. Though he’d been drained of energy from the fight, his body still reacted to the female. His cock stiffened and Vile purred.

Kur opened his eyes to see her staring at his groin. He chuckled. Moving his hands to his zipper, he slowly lowered it to allow his cock to spring free.

“Wrap your mouth around it, Vile.”

Her eyes darkened and she leaned forward. Her hot mouth closed over his cock and she purred again, sending trickles of sensation through his body.

“Yes, I like that.” He spread his legs wider. Soon, he would regain his strength and the war would begin.

Chapter Eight

An enticing aroma assaulted her nose and her stomach growled.
Dagan must be making dinner.

Reese jumped in the shower. After using her favorite body wash, lotion and spray, she felt like herself again. When she opened the door and moved into the bedroom, she stared at the fire ablaze in the weathered hearth built into the stone wall that had not been used in a couple of decades. Along the way, someone had sealed the chimney with concrete. Having it reopened had been on her list of things to do when she got around to it.
How could… Who could have…?

Dagan
.

Her bedroom felt like a tropical sauna so she put on a pair of leggings and a blue T-shirt. In the mirror, she stared at her reflection, not recognizing the person staring back. Red circles rimmed her eyelids and dark circles marred her pale skin. Stress and terror took its toll on a person. She definitely looked like death warmed over, as her grandmother used to say.

Determined to feel as normal as possible, she fluffed her hair and smoothed some cotton candy lip gloss her cousin had given her over her partially chapped lips. She opened the door and headed for the cooler kitchen.

Rounding the corner into the doorway she said, “Dagan, I—”

“Good evening, Ms. Whittaker.”

“Rufus, what are you doing here?”

“Making stew. Are you hungry?”

Although she felt a little self-conscious and exposed, her stomach picked that instant to growl loudly. She chuckled. “I guess I am. It smells wonderful.”

“Have a seat,” he said, and pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll get you a bowl.”

“You really don’t have to wait on me. It is my house.”

“True, but you were having a hard time earlier and it’s my pleasure to do what I can to help.”

He moved to the stove and ladled the stew into a bowl which he then laid on the table in front of her. Going back to the cabinet, he pulled down two glasses and the whiskey.

“I was ordered to make sure you drink this.” He smiled.

“Ordered?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why do you let him order you around?”

“It’s complicated.” He went back to turn off the burner and get himself a portion.