Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Looking up at the ceiling, he shakes his head, then looks back at me. “No. It would have changed his entire belief system, and he needed to believe what he believed in order to teach what he thought.”

  “How did you first meet him?”

  “Nylicia actually pointed him out to me. Siddhartha made one of the largest sacrifices known to man. He gave up his kingdom, got up in the middle of the night, and ran away to become practically a beggar. And I have a feeling Nylicia was involved in that decision.”

  “His family must have been hurt that he left,” I say softly, drawing patterns on his shoulder.

  “They were. And in that respect, I don’t understand what he did. But he also knew, deep down, that the best way to reach a higher state is to cut yourself so deep, open yourself so wide, that nothing is left. Sometimes, out of intense pain, a more intense understanding and purpose is born. He’s taught millions of humans, millennia after his death, to accept suffering as part of reality. And that by accepting it you learn to accept that pain is the touch point of all progress.”

  Amazed that he understands that, I give him a look that clearly says, “Come on, now.”

  “Do you realize what that means when it comes to you?” When he tenses, I rush on. “I’m just saying. What you were born as has led to what you are today. You are the male you are because of all that’s inside you. Oh, and you can thank Mavrak for that one, because he’s the one that helped me see that.”

  He pinches my ass, then gives my cheek a light swat when I yelp. I bare my teeth playfully at him. He licks his lips in return.

  My eyes lock onto those lips, and arousal begins pumping through my system in painful waves.

  Rolling us, he slides me beneath him, his thigh between my legs.

  Poised over me, he stares into my eyes—intense. Every time he gives me that stare, I feel way too much, too deep inside.

  “You are wiser than you should be considering your species and age. It makes me proud to be your R’mann.”

  What the hell? Is he trying to make me cry? He runs his index finger down the side of my face, soothing me as if he knows.

  “It kills me knowing the price you’ve paid for your understanding, though.”

  Blushing, I look away. “Nah. I’m not so wise.”

  His tone playful, he says, “It’s the fucking truth, and if you even try to insinuate it’s not, you’re calling me a liar. Do I need to beat your ass for calling me a liar?”

  My shock knows no bounds.

  He remembers.

  Does he even realize what that means?

  He heard me. Even while Mavrak was in control, he heard.

  I can’t bring it up, though. He isn’t ready to admit that he’s starting to merge with Mavrak. Swallowing, I smile playfully, ignoring the way my heart thunders with hope. “Do I have to kick your ass for threatening me?”

  He smiles down at me happily, the type of smile that gives me a glimpse of the kid he must have been. And as disturbed as I apparently am, the moment I see it, my body opens wide, aching to accept him.

  Ready to give him a child right now.

  “I like when you get all tough on me,” Zen says.

  “Do you?” Oh yeah, I’m definitely primed for sex. My tone says it all. “Do you like it enough to do something about it?”

  He leans down so that his lips are against mine. “I definitely plan to do something about that situation you got going on there.” And he feeds me one of those dominating kisses of his, pressing me into the bed and taking over every inch of me.

  Sunlight hits my closed eyelids.

  Fuck. Finding a way to extinguish the sun, the life forms dependent upon it be damned, seems pretty fricking attractive right now.

  I almost punch the bed in frustration. Then I remember how easy it is to break. Hell, we broke it again the night before. We ended up back outside, because apparently, that’s the only safe place around here for us to have sex.

  Safe for the house anyway. Another tree became collateral damage due to our fucking.

  Poor trees.

  Reminded of my mate, I raise my head off the pillow. The sun declares all-out war on my pupils, but I’ll deal with that fucker later. First I have to find Zeniel.

  Who is nowhere to be seen.

  Where did he go?

  I flash off the bed. The moment I touch down on the sleek, wood floor, I close my eyes and extend my senses as far as I can.

  Can’t feel him anywhere.

  I appear in front of the door in the blink of an eye. Once there, I stop, looking between the bed and the door, judging the amount of distance I just traveled in less than a second.

  I can’t help it. I give a little fist pump.

  Man, it wasn’t easy getting to where I am now, but not being human anymore makes it so worth it.

  I will the door open, and when it obeys my command without so much as a squeak, I walk out into the hall, fist pumping the air some more. Once out there, though, I stop and take a good look around.

  Zeniel must have gone around the whole house, fixing it up while I was out cold. The navy blue Victorian wallpaper that covers the walls is beautiful, and it doesn’t look a day old. The floor beneath my feet is smooth and shiny. Hell, all the wood is, from the doorframe, to the ceiling, and stair railing I see down the hall.

  The moment I get to the top of the stairs, I’m hit with the twitches. Not the minor kind, either. These start at the back of my head and squeeze their way down my entire spine. My body’s on edge. Ready to pounce on something and do damage. But what, damn it?

  I flash my way to the bottom of the stairs, and get hit with a shocking blast of heat everywhere. The type of heat that reminds me of ass-beatings and blood spilled.

  Alright. I know I’m crazy. Batshit loony at times. More than once, Ismini and Soleria made it clear that maybe, just maybe, I should consider anger management classes. But this is a whole new level. Even for me.

  Rage out of nowhere? Not normal.

  Okay. Just close your eyes. You can figure this out.

  At least, I hope so. First thing’s first. Must do something about my butt-naked state. Once I’m in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots, I turn and continue down the hall, trying to feel the place out.

  I stop next to a door that’s tucked under the stairs. Closing my eyes, I place my hand on the wall and try to clear my thoughts.

  There.

  Whatever I’m sensing is coming from there.

  The door eases open with just one thought from me. That’s when the fear overcomes everything else I’m feeling.

  I can’t really sense any life forms in the house, but whatever is down there, my nervous system doesn’t want anything to do with it.

  Except, all I see are stairs leading down, and when I peek around the doorframe, I see more of the same—a short flight of stairs leading into what must be the basement. A typical basement, too. Dark cement floor, and what looks like a few old barrels off to the side.

  So why the hell is my emotional spectrum bouncing back and forth between fuck this and fuck me?

  I want to barge down there and kick something’s ass; also want to turn around and run like hell, straight out of the house, locate Zeniel, and beg him to hold me until everything is okay.

  What are you now? A pussy? There’s not even anything down there!

  But I can’t shake the feeling that there is. My blood keeps running hot and cold.

  You can do this, ass. What’s the point of having superpowers if you’re just gonna be a pussy?

  I step through the door and stare down at the entrance to the basement. The mother of all stupid ideas comes to me and I try to float my way down the stairs, instead of taking them like a normal being.

  As jumpy as my mind is, my concentration is shot, and I end up pretty much flying face-first down the stairs.

  I resign myself to the fact that I’m going to fly into that basement at full-speed, but as soon as I reach the bottom, I slam into an invisible wall of pu
re, rippling power. I’m thrown backwards and go three feet into the wood, leaving a nice impression of my body behind. The entire house shakes on its foundations.

  Looking up, I wait for everything to come down around me. Thankfully, it doesn’t. I glance back at whatever I just slammed into, seeing ripples working their way across the invisible barrier.

  A Gnetica. Someone put up an energy shield in front of the entrance to the basement.

  And that someone was my mate.

  What is he hiding in there?

  There I go, back into the rage whirlpool. I try to tell myself that he didn’t really mean to keep me out of the basement.

  Except that the moment I try to convince myself of that, I know it to be a lie. There’s no one else around, and it’s clear that he never even meant to bring me here. Had I not grabbed onto his shirt last night and followed him, I would have never known that this is where he’s staying.

  I ease up out of the crater I made. Closing my eyes, I manage to focus and will the stairs back to normal.

  But that shield is still in my way.

  Fingers spread, I gently push against the Gnetica. It pulses to life again. Within the small ripples that distort the surface, I see microscopic markings.

  Squinting, I push at the Gnetica again and look closer.

  There are symbols inside it, and I recognize instantly what they are. They’re Zeniel’s energy signature.

  Proof he’s responsible.

  You’re not suicidal, Eve. All in all, you love to live. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but you love it. Killing your mate would only mean your own death.

  Groaning, I let my forehead fall against the shield, and squeeze my eyes closed. Death isn’t something I court. I only jumped into the vortex because I was chasing after Ismini.

  That doesn’t mean that the thought of hurting Zeniel isn’t tempting. It’s beyond tempting. We’re mated, and that’s the kind of life-long, eternity type of thing that you can’t get out of.

  I can’t see myself in any type of relationship that involves secrets.

  Zen has them. He’s jealously guarding them.

  All because of his fear of uniting with Mavrak.

  Ugh. It isn’t just Zeniel, either. Mavrak hates himself, too. Getting those two to come to terms with each other so they can merge is going to be nearly impossible.

  Which means, there’s going to be secrets on his end, and more running, and more . . . what?

  Me chasing him?

  Fuck no. No. I’m not going to spend my existence running after him, loving him as much as I do, and having him do this kind of shit. No matter how he makes me feel—okay, that’s bullshit. I may not chase him, but refuse him sex? After what he showed me last night?

  I might as well go ahead with the whole killing-him-and-killing-myself plan.

  I try to see into the basement. More barrels, more of that cement floor, a shelving unit on the left side. What looks like a shiny, brand new boiler all the way in the back.

  Nice. But for all I know, it’s all an illusion. Ismini explained how the energy shields work. The person that puts them up can reflect anything on the other side. Anything they want. So, an entire other world can be on the other side and I’m just not seeing it.

  Something definitely is in there. The thing that’s making my skin crawl, and is sending that cold feeling racing up and down my spine.

  Okay. I can let it go for now. Really, I can. And the fact that there’s a desperate urge rising, one that demands I bring the Gnetica down, means nothing. I’ve got this. I can walk away. There’s some self-control hidden deep within me.

  Somewhere.

  Time to go. And this time, I may just not come back.

  I’m officially sick of all the bullshit.

  CHAPTER 23

  EVESSE

  T rouble meets my line of sight as soon as I step out onto the porch. Trouble of the uniformed variety.

  Not what I expected to see upon coming out here. A whole lot of trees and woods? Yup. Maybe a bird or two. Maybe even a deer. But sure as hell not what’s in front of me.

  Three or four yards away is a group of men. Cops. Four of them are standing by one of the broken trees. Another three are examining its fallen companion.

  One stands by the powdered bits that are left of the boulder.

  They all have very appropriate expressions on their faces. Hell, I’d be WTF-ing it, too, if I were them.

  I freeze, afraid to call attention to myself. One of them looks my way.

  Then he turns back to the tree, not even registering me.

  Hm . . . On a hunch, I materialize ten feet to the left and hold out my hand.

  There go those damn ripples again.

  Soooo, my mate put a Gnetica up around the house, as well. This one I can’t fault him for. Without it, those cops would have seen me, and I’m too much of a novice to wipe their minds. No practice could equal a major fuck up when it comes to that type of thing.

  I have to wonder, though. How close are we to a town? We have to be close enough that someone heard the commotions last night and saw the little light display Zeniel and I gave off. That’s the only reason the cops would be here investigating.

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not coming back to this house.

  Dematerializing, I head back home. Or, my new home, rather. I land softly on the marble tile of the main courtyard, and turn to look up at the compound.

  I still can’t get used to it, no matter how many times I’ve laid eyes on it.

  It’s the most mix-matched, temple-like structure I’ve ever seen. Medieval Gothic, Victorian, Egyptian, Indian, hell even Russian features, you name it. There are so many architectural influences that it’s a miracle they come together so well.

  It’s beautiful.

  The huge gold dome rising towards the sky reminds me of a picture I once saw of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow.

  If one doesn’t count the ridiculous amount of satellite dishes stuck to the dome, that is. Cyake set them up to get cable and internet signal here.

  There were seventeen dishes before I left with Zeniel.

  Now, I count twenty-three of those fuckers, and the six new ones are freaking huge.

  What the hell is Cyake up to?

  I rush up the main steps. There isn’t a door, just a hundred-foot tall opening that leads into the main hall.

  The hall itself is pretty much a two-hundred-foot, circular foyer, with statues and columns all around the perimeter. Before me is the massive staircase leading up to the second-floor landing.

  In front of the staircase, at fifteen-feet tall, is what used to be the largest statue in the hall—Cy in full battle armor with his cocky, dimpled smile in place.

  I turn to take in the new reigning champ.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  What is this? Some sick version of which brother has the largest peen?

  The twenty-foot statue of Zexistr smirks down at me as if to say, “Yeah, that’s right, baby. I win.”

  I have a feeling the God of Existence is moving in. Either that or he’s just hell-bent on one-upping his “younger” brother. Knowing Cy, he isn’t going to just let it end there, and if Zexistr is half as bad as Cy—which apparently, he is—it might be time for me to consider the whole U-Haul routine and move back into my studio.

  Living with those two and their godly egos will either be hilarious, or end in murder. Most likely the latter.

  “Bitch? Who are you calling a bitch? You stupid cunt!”

  The sound of Cy screaming nearly sends me flying into the ceiling.

  Zex’s voice reaches me next, seemingly coming through a speakerphone. “I’m calling you a bitch, bitch. How is it that you can’t recalibrate your own fucking coding?”

  “No one told your punk ass to come into my place, install six new satellites, and link them to the program. You fucked up my systems software! The algorithm was programmed to crash if anyone other than me tried to access it!”
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  I tip-toe towards the open door to the right, where Cy’s pride and joy is.

  His “command station”, as he calls it.

  “And why would you do that, dumb-ass?”

  “Security reasons, cunt,” Cyake says from behind gritted teeth.

  “Well, it should be easy for you to recode your own software.”

  “It would be if I could fucking concentrate!” Cy snaps.

  I stop outside the computer room, but I don’t go in. I can see Cy leaning in front of the main computer, hands braced on either side of the keyboard. His head’s hanging, his shoulders tense. His phone is on the desk next to his left hand.

  He doesn’t seem to sense me, nor does he see me coming. Considering he can see everyone’s decisions seconds before they’re made, that’s disturbing.

  Then again, he just said he can’t concentrate.

  “What do you mean you can’t concentrate? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten laid,” Zexistr says, his tone serious now.

  “Nah, dude. It’s not that. I wouldn’t be so stupid as to let myself go rabid. Unlike somebody else I know.”

  “Exactly. The Universe can’t handle four of us putting ourselves at risk like that. What is it then?” Zex asks.

  I’m wondering the same thing. Even without seeing his face, I can tell Cy’s stressed the fuck out. Tension rolls off him hard.

  “I . . . just forget it.”

  “Tell me.”

  Damn. Zex sounded exactly like what he is then: the big brother. Even if it’s only by a few minutes.

  Cy sighs. “You won’t fucking believe me anyway, dude, so drop it.”

  “Do I need to call mom?”

  “Ah, fuck, man. Is that necessary?”

  “I’ll involve Keiros, too.”

  “You are a cruel, evil being.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Hell, even I’m dying of curiosity at this point.

  “I’m being haunted.”

  What?

  “What? Hunted?”

  “No. Haunted.”

  Okay . . .

  Clearly, Zex feels the same way, because he stays silent for a few seconds. Then, “Come again?”