War of Gods Box Set

by Ford, Lizzy

  “You’re on parole. The next time you leave the compound without telling me, you’ll be grounded until Damian returns.”

  “I hope it’s soon,” she said, a look of longing crossing her face.

  “Don’t worry, Sofi,” he said. “And if this Miami thing gets as bad as we both think it will, he might have to come back soon anyway. I have to go.”

  She gave him a hug. As a stranger to human affection, he’d never quite gotten used to her hugs. He squeezed her back and left. Toni awaited him in the foyer.

  “Boss, Jasmine wants to know how much more you’re going to fuck her over this year. She means that respectfully,” Toni said. “She said she’d tell you that in person if you hadn’t already taken her Traveler.”

  “If she’s available, have her come to Miami, too,” Dusty said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.” He whipped out his phone and trotted down the stairs, typing a response to one of the many texts he’d received.

  He froze on the bottom step, the hair at the back of his neck standing up. He’d had this sense before, when Darian was proclaimed the Grey God. Dusty followed his instincts to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. A slight man with white hair, velvety green eyes, and a fatherly smile stood in the middle of the kitchen.

  “I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer,” the Watcher said.

  A Watcher appearing in his kitchen was the worst sign of impending doom yet. As members of the oldest beings in the universe, the Watchers saw all. According to the divine codes, they were forbidden from interfering in human affairs, unless they felt like it, which they’d decided to do for several months. Dusty didn’t know how they chose when to interfere with the mortal world, but when they did, it normally resulted in some sort of universal catastrophe, like the Schism that split the divine world from the physical one and nearly wiped out humanity and divinity alike.

  “What do you want?” he demanded.

  “You found the healer?”

  “You know I did.”

  “We destroyed all the records predating the Schism, but I thought you might want to know something about her,” the Watcher offered.

  “Do tell.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why is she special?” Dusty asked.

  “She’s an exceptionally powerful healer, the kind that haven’t been seen since before the Schism,” the Watcher explained. “She can help finish what Sofi started with the Grey God, and she’s of value to Czerno.”

  “Why would Czerno need a healer?”

  “He doesn’t yet, but he will, when he realizes the Others he entrusted are working against him. He’s weakening, Dusty. He’s flaunted the divine codes for too long.”

  “There must be a Black God,” Dusty mulled, only vaguely aware of the Others, the Watchers that favored humanity’s demise.

  “Precisely.”

  “Then what we’ve heard is true: Talon wants his job. But Talon can’t kill him,” Dusty surmised. “Why can’t I contact Damian or Jule?”

  “I had to seal the hemispheres. The White God is safe and well, but there are incidents that must unfold here before they can return.”

  “You got anything else?” he snapped. Dusty glared at him, hating the way the Watcher community doled out knowledge at their convenience and not his.

  “Jonny’s special as well. You need to keep him safe. Oh, and the tropical storm will become a hurricane late Saturday night.”

  “I really don’t give a shit about the weather.”

  “I texted you my email address in case you want to email,” the Watcher said and held up his phone.

  “Why would I want to email you?”

  “I forgot. You don’t like electronics. I understand. Darian can email me if he wants.”

  Dusty spun on his heel. He’d never understood the Watchers or any of the otherworldly beings Damian or Jule had known pre-Schism. He’d been a kid when Damian found him and a human when the Schism occurred. Damian granted him his god-powers after the Schism, whereas Jule was expelled from the divine world for crimes he’d never discussed. As the youngest, non-natural deity-like being, he didn’t have the history—or the patience—D or Jule had with such creatures as the Watchers.

  “Toni,” he called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yeah, boss!”

  “Call together the planners and have them meet me here later. We need to dust off a few ops plans for this weekend.”

  “Groovy!”

  “I’m going to the gym.” He wolfed down the sandwich Bianca made him, unable to remember the last time he’d eaten breakfast. Or at all. In a few days, he’d be dead, and food wouldn’t matter.

  Chapter Six

  “Oh, my god, cookies!” Darian exclaimed.

  Bianca jumped at the voice and peered out of the kitchen at the man named Darian. He was dressed in all black again from turtleneck to heavy boots despite the heat of early afternoon, the color emphasizing the zero body fat of his lean body.

  “Sunny!” he called.

  She couldn’t get over seeing a grown man acting like a teenager. She pulled the last of the cookies from the oven and set them on top to cool.

  “If you sit on the couch, she’ll come to you,” she offered, watching as Darian searched the condo.

  “I’ve never had a cat,” he said, excited. “What do they eat?”

  “Cat food.”

  “Oh.”

  She bit back a laugh as he reddened. He sat, and she took in his flawed features, wondering what could leave such entrenched scars.

  “You want some cookies?” she asked.

  “Yeah! Hi Sunny!”

  She brought him a plate of warm cookies and a glass of milk. Sunny perched on his thigh, purring as he patted her.

  “Dusty’s apartment is soooo boring,” Darian complained.

  “It needs color,” she agreed.

  “He’s a dictator,” he supplied. “He probably scared the color right out of the condo.”

  She laughed.

  “He’s a good guy, though,” Darian admitted. “I’m not easy to live with, and the structure is good for me.” He rolled his eyes, as if repeating something he heard regularly.

  “He saved me from bad guys,” she said.

  “That’s his job. He has to do that, or he’d be in violation of rule number one.”

  She laughed again. Darian looked at her, content with cookies resting on one thigh and the cat on the other.

  “Sofi says you can heal,” he said curiously. “Can you heal scars?”

  “I can.”

  He peeled off a glove to display a hand as scarred as his face.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” she murmured.

  “I’m not allowed to stress you out, but can you, like, try?”

  She took his hand and turned it over. The scars ran all the way through his hand, as if it had been chopped up and put back together. The idea of something so horrible happening to him saddened her. She placed her hands on either side of his and closed her eyes, concentrating. The cool energy came when she summoned it, and his body directed it where it was needed.

  “Wow.”

  She opened her eyes, feeling the drain. Darian held up his hand and stared at it. The scars were gone.

  “Do my face!” he said, excited. “Wait.”

  He picked up Sunny and crossed to the kitchen to stack the plate high with cookies.

  “I’m glad you like them,” she said. “Do you have a favorite kind?”

  “Any kind. Dusty only eats organic shit, and Sofi can’t eat at all, so I never get real cookies.”

  “I made these with Dusty’s organic ingredients,” she told him.

  “Really? They’re really good. Maybe it’s just because Dusty and Sofi can’t cook.”

  She scooted forward and placed her hands on either side of his face. Her breath caught as his body sucked up her cool energy. Poison lingered in him. Though his body didn’t speak of it, she directed her power tow
ards it as well. She withdrew, startled at the vacuuming of her power.

  Without the scars, he was a darkly handsome man, his features heavy and masculine. The angles of his face were too sharp for traditional male beauty, but she admitted he was sexy in a dark, sinister way with his low brow, large gold eyes, and angled features.

  He crossed to a mirror. He touched his face, tumultuous emotions crossing his face. She neared him, sensing a flood of raw emotion she didn’t understand. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared at himself.

  “I’m sorry, Darian, maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, resting her hand on his arm.

  “It’s good,” he said in a strangled voice. “Just didn’t expect to see … me … again.” He turned around and hugged her hard. “I’ll tell Dusty that we’re keeping you.”

  He released her just as quickly and wiped tears from one eye. She looked up at him, touched, as he felt his face again. His hand went to the back of his head, and he grimaced.

  “I think Dusty already made that decision,” she said. “You’re a handsome man, Darian.”

  “I know. I mean, I am now again. I was ugly as shit for a while.”

  The effort of healing him had given her a headache. He looked down at her intently.

  “I stressed you out,” he said with a frown. “I’m sorry, Bianca.”

  “I’m not stressed,” she replied. “I’m happy to help you, and I’m happy you came to visit. It gets lonely here.”

  He took her arm and led her to the couch, retreating to the kitchen for more cookies, water, and a bottle of painkillers. He ate another cookie in troubled silence.

  “Have you met my brother yet?” she asked, wanting to draw him from his thoughts.

  “No.”

  “Jenn said he’s at HQ. His name is Jonny if you ever see him.”

  “I’ll look for him,” he said.

  “He’s a little confused.”

  “So am I. We’ll make good friends.”

  “Are there many Naturals like me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, quite a few. Not as many as Guardians, though.” He touched his face again then rubbed the back of his head. His words were distracted, his confusion clear. “This is really weird. Sofi said you were special.”

  “Who is this Sofi?” she asked.

  “She’s my sister-in-law. She’s an Oracle who can see the future.”

  “Wow, really?” Bianca asked.

  “She’s cool. My brother’s in Europe, but she had to stay here. She and Dusty take care of me. It’s really hard, and they’re really good to me.”

  “Will I get to meet the others in your organization?”

  “Yes,” he said then sighed. “I’m not allowed to take you anywhere. Dusty said you’re safer here than anywhere. You’ll get outta here soon. Then you can meet everyone.”

  “I met Jenn,” she said. “I really liked her.”

  “Jenn is so hot!” he exclaimed. “Oh my god is she hot. She’s Dusty’s fuck-buddy. He’s got it so good.”

  The news startled her, and she wasn’t sure why it made her feel … bummed. He looked up, a surprised expression crossing his face, as if he’d told her something he wasn’t supposed to.

  “It’s not serious,” he said. “It’s just physical, because they don’t have time to have real relationships.”

  “If he wants to have a relationship with her, it’s his choice,” she said with a shrug.

  “I know but … just so you know, it’s not a relationship. She’s on fuck-buddy status.”

  “I don’t think there’s a difference.”

  “Oh, god, I fucked this up!”

  “What? They’re adults. They’re allowed to do what they want.”

  Jenn was beautiful. It was no mystery to her why Dusty would want her, though she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe she’d hoped his parting words in the morning were serious. Maybe he screwed every woman he ran across. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of man who would commit or put any woman above his rigid sense of duty. Maybe every man out there was like Aaron, unable to commit to one woman.

  Darian was gazing at her in earnest, torn.

  “Darian, it’s okay,” she said, smiling at him. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “I have to go.” He sprung up and grabbed the cookies. “Can you make peanut butter tomorrow?”

  She nodded. He disappeared, and she stared at the place where he’d been, wondering why he was so upset with himself. Healing his scars made her feel a familiar sense of exhaustion, and she retreated to the couch in front of the TV, content to doze and recover.

  Awhile later, the sound of furniture crashing against the tile floor startled her, and she sat up from where she’d been dozing in front of the TV. At first she thought it was the thunderstorm she’d fallen asleep listening to.

  Dusty and Darian, both drenched and covered in what looked like seaweed, were in the foyer. Both breathed hard, and she noticed a red slash across Darian’s face. He sat on the floor, hands covering his face, while Dusty stood.

  “Darian! Are you okay?” she asked, surprised and concerned.

  A look at Dusty’s tight features revealed he was furious. She looked away fast for fear of the sizzling blue gaze and dropped to her knees in front of Darian, pulling his hands from his face to see the wound. Dusty stalked off and slammed the bedroom door. They looked after him before she met Darian’s gaze. The wound healed itself.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I broke all the rules. Dusty’s gonna kill me,” he whispered, stricken. His eyes watered, and he shook his head, shivering. He smelled of ocean water and blood.

  If he’d been talking about any other man, she would have doubted his words.

  “C’mon. Let’s at least get you dried off. Then we’ll have cookies, okay?”

  He nodded and stood. Her eyes went to the bedroom, and she walked the opposite direction to the laundry room and ruffled through Dusty’s neatly folded laundry.

  “Go change,” she said, handing a towel, T-shirt, and jeans to the distraught man.

  He obeyed, and she went to the kitchen. She’d automatically made enough dinner for three after cooking for Kyle and Jonny for three months. She put a heaping plate in the oven and returned to the living room with cookies and milk for Darian.

  He was hugging Sunny as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. He reminded her of Jonny when her brother had learned of his father’s death last summer. She’d never seen anyone cry as hard as he did. Sensing similar distress in the man before her, she sat down.

  “Anything you wanna talk about?” she asked.

  “I ruined his life.”

  “I doubt that, Darian,” she said, holding back a smile. “What happened? Why were you guys covered in seaweed?”

  “I have issues,” he said, pointing to his head. “Sometimes they overwhelm me, and I kinda go crazy. I went sailing.”

  “In the middle of a tropical storm?”

  “Yeah. It’s stupid.”

  “Darian!” she exclaimed. “And Dusty fished you out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You shouldn’t do things like that.”

  “I don’t care what happens to me,” he said stubbornly.

  “But you care what happens to Dusty, don’t you? I mean, it’s one thing to hurt yourself but to hurt someone else is just wrong!”

  “He’s going to kill me anyway.”

  “Dusty cares about you or he wouldn’t have come after you. You really shouldn’t do things like that,” she repeated, reminded of similar conversations with Jonny. “It’s kinda selfish, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose,” he said, looking even more upset. “I figured when he found out I ruined his life, he’d kill me anyway.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  He clenched his hands in his lap and shook his head, the way Jonny did when he refused to confide in her. Bianca sighed.

  “At least you’re safe,�
�� she said. “Don’t make me make up my own rules for you, Darian!”

  “Can I have another cookie?” he asked.

  She rose, pitying him.

  Dusty wrenched the bedroom door open, even angrier to see Darian and Bianca on the couch, talking. Darian had a plate of cookies in his lap and milk on the table.

  She’d asked if Darian was okay. Darian, who had willingly hired a sailboat and sailed straight into a tropical storm. Darian, who he’d just pulled off the bottom of the ocean instead of attending his planning session to deal with the Talon issue.

  “He needs an ass beating, not coddling!” he snapped.

  Both jumped at his tone, and he waited, wanting to pick a fight with someone. He was exhausted and wired with angry energy. If Jule or Damian were there, they’d take a trip to the boxing ring and take turns beating the hell out of him until his blood settled. If he had a full night, he’d spend it killing vamps until too tired to pull the trigger.

  Darian flushed and looked down guiltily. Dusty waited for Bianca to defend him, so he could tear into someone, anyone.

  “Your dinner’s in the oven,” she said. She’d chosen a subject he couldn’t argue about. Frustrated, he stalked to the kitchen and opened the oven, sensing her enter.

  “I spend an hour at the bottom of the ocean saving his ass because he decides to try and kill himself, and you give him milk and cookies!” he muttered. He lifted the heavy, foil-covered plate out of the oven, stomach roaring at the scent of spiced chicken and vegetables. He’d been too busy to eat again today since the sandwich she made him for breakfast.

  “There are enough milk and cookies for you, too,” she replied.

  He turned to glare at her and almost snapped at her for sitting on the counter. She met his gaze, her features warm. There was compassion in her sparkling gaze despite the gentle humor in her voice. Her warmth and openness disarmed him enough to take the edge off his anger. She wore the camisole that amplified her breasts, her curls captured at the nape of her neck.

  “You need a hug, too?” she teased.

  “You’re playing with fire, woman,” he warned.