Oathbreaker (The Godhunter, Book 3)

by Sumida, Amy

  Vali gets along great with Trevor. They can talk about arrows and hunting all damn day. It was kind of surprising to see them hit it off but what was really surprising was the friendship that blossomed between Kirill and Vidar. They have a very similar look, both with long dark hair and blue eyes, both very striking men. But it was their personalities that really drew them together. They are both so quiet, so reserved. They think before they speak and when they do speak, it's something worth listening to. So my men have split into teams and I'm content with it.

  I'm content with my choice as well. Trevor may not have been the god who loved me so much that he brought me back to life, but he was the wolf who changed my life. He didn't deny death for me but he chose to face death with me. He gave up immortality for me instead of trying to force me into it with him. The differences between my love for Trevor and Odin are subtle but the result is clear. I've chosen the wolf over the god and I've decided to respect my choice. I've decided to make peace with the fact that I'll never hold Odin again.

  It's okay, Trevor is more than enough for me to hold on to. I lie in his arms at night and contemplate this. I'm happy there, in the dark with my Wolf Prince. The happiness he brings me is well worth the cost of that which I've lost, and I sleep soundly, knowing that he'll be there when I wake. There's just one thing that hinders my peace, my happiness.

  My shoulder, where Anubis struck me, still has this ache of cold inside it... and the cold is spreading.

  Acknowledgments

  These acknowledgments needed to be in the back this time. I didn't want to ruin the story for any of you by referring to the death of one of the lions.

  Most of the people in this book are fictional, based on myths of gods and goddesses, but there are a few characters who really do exist.

  As mentioned in my previous book, Sommer Castor, Tristan(Richard Harrison), and Jackson(Cliff Green) are really as wonderful as the characters I've created based off of them. They were all there for me when I lost my own lion but it was Sommer who brought everyone together just to be there for me, even though she was going through an even greater loss herself and although they didn't have to trace the Aether to do it, I couldn't have made it through the loss of that magical connection without them. Thank you all for ever inspiring me and helping me remember how to live.

  Keep reading for a sneak peak at the next book in the Godhunter series:

  Marked by Death

  Chapter One

  “You’re mine.”

  His fingertips rested lightly on my neck but I knew at any moment they could tighten, cutting of my air, and there was nothing I could do about it. My body refused to obey me, like someone else was controlling it. I tried not to panic as I waited for the end but those large fingers didn’t tighten, they didn't strangle me as I had expected. Instead, they skimmed down to my collarbone, my arm, my hand. He lifted it up to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on my fingertips.

  I stared at those firm lips, expecting to find cruelty but finding only determination. His bottom lip was fuller than I remembered, lending a softness to his otherwise harsh features. His chin was square but sharply so, with a jawline sweeping down in a dramatic angle. A slight widow's peak directed attention to deep set eyes topped with slashing brows, and then down the line of his thick nose. He was so beautiful, it was distracting me, I couldn't see past it. So I focused my gaze on his, no matter how well he hid his true nature, his eyes would prove traitorous.

  They were black, pupils and irises blending into one, with colors swirling over their surface like an oil slick in the sun. Every color I could think of was there, ghosting over his eyes, then diving down into a vortex, as if he were pulling them within. I felt myself lean forward, following the colors down into his darkness.

  He blinked slowly and broke the spell.

  “Anubis,” I whispered as my body pressed into his against my will.

  “Godhunter,” his lips went to my shoulder, his arms around my waist.

  Straight, black hair hung to his shoulders, shining like glass and glittering with gold, here and there where a few cylindrical beads were crimped onto his thick locks. My hands gathered the heavy mass of it, lifting it to my face so I could inhale the sweet spice of frankincense and myrrh. Intoxicating, everything about him was intoxicating.

  “No,” I tried to pull away. There was something I was forgetting, someone I was forgetting.

  “There is nothing but you and I,” his head lifted and his eyes pinned mine like butterflies on a board. “You thought you could escape me, that you could defeat me, but there is no defeating death, and there is no escape from me.”

  “You’re not death, you’re an Atlantean,” I struggled to build some kind of wall between us. “You’re a thief, stealing worship and power. Can’t you see that’s how Atlantis was destroyed in the first place? It was too much power for one race to wield.”

  “It was one small group of Atlanteans who made the mistake that destroyed my home,” his eyes narrowed. “Those of us who survived, suffered for it and we adapted, found new homes and new people but this is all distant past. Now we are gods and you dare to hunt us.”

  “Only those of you who use humans as disposable batteries.”

  “I don’t use your kind,” he brushed back my long, dark hair, sending heat down my neck and across my chest. “I accepted responsibility from them and now I help them into the afterlife. Death is neither good nor evil, yet you chose to fight me. Stop fighting me, Vervain.”

  One of his hands came up to rest on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing against my collarbone. It squeezed gently and seemed to radiate an icy chill. It wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact I welcomed it. I wanted it to take me over, to take away all the pain like it seemed to promise, to make me numb. Wait, were those even my thoughts? My desires?

  “No,” I tried again, “I don’t want you. I don’t want to be here.”

  “You will,” his lips lifted at the corners. “You’re already mine.”

  His mouth was suddenly on mine, claiming me as his words did. I wanted to fight, to deny his hold on me, but my hands wouldn’t move and my tongue was captured by his. His taste was dizzying, warm and sweet, like drinking spiced cider laced with honey and rum. I felt a rush of fluttering pleasure rise from my core to crawl over my chest, leaving me hot and wet in its wake, and I groaned in response.

  Anubis pulled me closer, his calm façade finally cracking as his hands roamed wildly over my body. We were flesh to flesh, my clothing simply gone, and between us he was hard and eager. I finally found the strength to push back but only managed to gain a couple of inches. His head immediately lowered and I felt the wet pleasure of his mouth close over my neck.

  I sighed as tingles shot through me again and felt my knees give way. He caught me easily, my lower body molding to his, as he continued to lick and bite his way down to my breast. When he reached his destination, I cried out and he gave an answering growl. My hands slid up to hold him closer, only it wasn’t hair that they slid through, it was fur.

  My eyes shot open in shock and I fought with all the strength my sudden panic gave me. It was enough. I broke through his hold and landed hard on my ass. I scooted back but he followed, coming to stand over me like an avenging angel… or an enraged god.

  Staring down at me was the head of a jackal, pointed ears and long muzzle, all covered in sleek black fur that flowed down to disappear into his gilded chest. His mouth opened, sharp canine teeth glinting as he spoke.

  “Remember, Godhunter,” Anubis’ rich voice came out of the jackal’s mouth. “Remember who you belong to and who you’ll learn to please for eternity.”

  I screamed, sitting up to push him away from me, and warm hands gripped my arms. Struggling, I flailed out desperately and they tightened, pushing me down until his body covered mine and held me in place.

  “Vervain,” his voice had changed, it was warmer and deeper. “Vervain, wake up.”

  I opened my eyes to find Trevor above me, my beauti
ful werewolf lover. His long, dark curls fell around his face and his golden eyes were glowing in the darkness. I gave a shuddering sigh and relaxed back in the bed, realizing it had all been a dream. A horrible, disgusting dream.

  “Are you alright, Minn Elska?” The cherished endearment soothed my raw nerves even more and I pulled him to me, feeling his heart start to slow down with mine.

  “I’m fine, honey-eyes,” I whispered. “Thanks for waking me. I didn’t hurt you did I?”

  “No, I'm okay,” he pulled back so he could look me over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “It was just a nightmare,” I gave him my best effort at a smile. His eyes told me that I failed miserably.

  “That’s the fourth one this week,” he sat back on his haunches.

  “Come back here,” I pulled on his hand till he laid back down beside me and wrapped me up against his chest. I slid my hands over his hot skin, cuddling up to his warmth as I swung my hair over my shoulder. “It’s nothing, my body’s just trying to relax after all the stress.”

  “Balder’s dead, you don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he looked down at me, his strong features softening with concern.

  “I know but there’s still Demeter on the loose.”

  “Persephone seemed to take care of her,” his perfect lips spread in a smile.

  “Demeter's still alive, which means she still wants me dead. I return the sentiment of course but I can't help feeling like I've failed my lions. We should have found her by now. Then there’s Ares, who’s still mad about me killing Aphrodite and taking her power, no matter that she was trying to kill me at the time. And we can't forget Blue with his stalking vampire groupies following me around for who knows what purpose. I wish he could just forgive me for believing he was behind all that nonsense in Arizona.”

  “Poor misunderstood Godhunter,” Trevor nestled his face into the side of my neck, where his latest set of bite marks had yet to heal.

  While he was occupied, my hand crept up to my other shoulder, where I’d received my latest scar, a knife wound from Anubis, the Egyptian God of the Dead. Teharon had healed it for me but a scar had remained, which was odd, the Mohawk god was the best at what he did. He had shrugged it off though, saying there might have been magic in the blade that had prevented a full healing but that I'd be fine, despite sporting a new scar. I had nodded and hoped he was right but deep inside, I knew something was off because what I hadn’t told Teharon or Trevor, or anyone for that matter, was that even though the wound had healed, the cold from the blade remained. Anubis had literally given me the cold shoulder and now the cold was spreading.

  I’d gotten used to being marked by men. First Blue(aka Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec God of War and Sun, oh and also the Father of vampires), then Thor(if you don't know who Thor is, you're an idiot), and then Trevor(Firstborn of Fenrir, the Viking Wolf God and father of the Froekn/werewolves). Now I’d been marked again, this time by Death himself(or at least someone who thought he was Death himself), and I was going to have to do something about it soon. I just wasn’t sure what.

  “Vervain?” Trevor drew my wandering attention back to him. “You seemed really far off for a moment.”

  “Sorry, baby,” I yawned, “I’m just tired.”

  “Go to sleep then, Minn Elska,” he kissed my forehead and wrapped the blankets tighter around us. The whirr of the air conditioner tried its best to lull me back to dreamland but I knew who was waiting for me there. I remembered the feel of his hands on me, squeezing my shoulder where his knife had struck.

  A pulse of cold seeped out an inch further, creeping over my collarbone as my body started to tremble.

  About the Author

  Amy Sumida lives on an island in the Pacific Ocean where gods go to play. She sleeps in a fairy bed, high in the air, with two gravity-defying felines and upon waking, enjoys stabbing people with little needles, over and over, under the guise of making pretty pictures on their skin. She, like Vervain, has no filter but has been fortunate enough to find friends who appreciate this... or at least tell her they do. She bellydances and paints pictures on her walls but is happiest with her nose stuck in a book, her mind in a different world than this one, filled with fantastical men who unfortunately don't exist in our mundane reality. Thank the gods for fantasy.