Goddess’s Choice

by I. T. Lucas

  He had to admit, though, Amanda had had her students spellbound. Some of it was no doubt due to her beauty, and some due to her special ability to influence. But as he was immune to both and had still found the lecture fascinating, he had to give her the credit she was due.

  “Where to, Master?” his driver asked, easing into traffic.

  “We are having lunch at Gino’s.”

  Mindful of the amount of work still waiting for him, Kian pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the avalanche of emails and texts that had managed to accumulate during the two-hour class. He’d barely gotten through a fraction of them when his driver parked the SUV in front of Amanda’s favorite place for lunch.

  Gino’s was a short drive away from campus, close enough for her to grab a quick bite to eat during her lunch break, but too far for her students to get there on foot. Which meant the risk of her bumping into one of them was low. She’d discovered it two years ago when she’d gotten her first job at the university.

  A generous grant provided by one of the clan’s subsidiary corporations ensured Amanda had free rein to test her ideas. But even though Kian was funding her research, he didn’t put much stock in her achieving her main objective. His reasoning was that even if Amanda failed to find anything useful for the clan, her research could potentially benefit humanity, which, of course, was the ultimate goal and justified the substantial monetary investment.

  “Is it we, as in you and Amanda, or are we invited as well?” Anandur asked as they stepped out of the vehicle.

  “No. I will have you guys stand sentry, salivating while Amanda and I eat. This is not the Middle Ages, and I didn’t do so even then. Really, Andu, sometimes I wonder if it’s part of your act or are you really that thick.”

  Brundar chuckled, a jab directed at his obnoxious brother never failing to bring a rare smile to his austere face.

  “What I mean, ladies… are we all sitting together as one big happy family, auntie and uncle with their beloved nephews? Or Amanda and you upstairs, while we guard from a safe distance—out of hearing range—downstairs?” Anandur arched both of his bushy red brows.

  “I don’t know. It’s up to Amanda. I’m not sure what she has in mind.” Kian frowned, remembering she’d mentioned that there was something she wanted to talk to him about.

  “Aha, you don’t know. So I’m not so thick, am I?” Anandur smirked.

  Kian shook his head but smiled despite himself. Anandur liked to act the big brainless oaf. At almost six and a half feet tall and about two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, he looked like a pro wrestler. Add to that a head full of crinkly red hair, a bushy red beard and mustache, and he could play an extra in a Viking movie.

  In contrast, Brundar looked almost feminine. A little over six feet, he wasn’t short, but his lean build, pretty angelic face, and his choice of hairstyle—keeping his pale blond stick-straight mane so long it reached the small of his back even when bound with twine—made him look delicate. Metrosexual.

  Their appearances couldn’t have been more misleading. Of the two, Brundar was the deadlier force—cold, calculated, and skilled. A true master.

  Anandur’s reliance on his brute strength, though, didn’t mean that he could be easily fooled or manipulated. He was a keen observer, capable of quick and accurate assessments of sticky situations, never acting on impulse. The big oaf act fooled his opponents into underestimating him, which naturally was the whole point.

  Together the brothers, who’d been serving as his bodyguards for centuries, were deadly to anyone posing a threat to Kian or the clan.

  As expected, Gino’s was packed with customers waiting in line on the sidewalk to be seated. The few round bistro tables on its narrow veranda were all taken; some by young mothers with their strollers blocking whatever little space remained, and others by business types from the nearby offices.

  Bypassing the crowd, Kian took the worn stairs leading directly from the back entrance up to what Gino called his VIP section. It was a small room on the second floor reserved for his special guests—those who for various reasons didn’t want to mingle with the rest of the clientele, or members of his large, extended family.

  The room looked like an old lady’s parlor. Old-fashioned wallpaper in green and yellow hues covered walls which were decorated with the fading portraits of stern matriarchs and patriarchs posing in their Sunday best—their disapproving expressions staring from their frames. Six upholstered chairs surrounded a round dining table in the center, and the serve ware came from a peeling sideboard laboring under the weight of piles of china.

  Looking at it, Kian imagined that one of these days the thing would collapse, and Gino’s heirloom collection would be history. But each time he’d mentioned it, Gino had just smiled, saying not to worry; his grandmother’s sideboard had held for the past fifty years and would keep on holding for at least that many more.

  With another glance at the wood’s widening cracks, Kian shrugged and sat down. He would hate to tell the guy; I told you so, when it eventually fell apart.

  As he peered at the street through the open French doors that led to the tiny balcony overlooking the front, the lacy curtains fluttered in the light, warm breeze.

  Feeling his tension ease, Kian realized he liked it here. It was cozy and intimate, despite the tacky decor, or perhaps owing to it.

  4

  Anandur

  “Hey, Gino!” Anandur waved the proprietor over. “How are you doing, buddy? Life treating you well?”

  “Can’t complain. Business is doing good, the family is good, so I’m good. Eh? What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  For some reason, Gino was always nervous around them, despite the fact that since Amanda had gotten the job at the university, they were eating here at least twice a month and leaving extravagant tips. Anandur had often wondered if it was the small guy’s instinctive wariness of men their size, or Gino suspecting them of being Mafia goons.

  Calling Kian boss certainly didn’t help matters. But what the heck, Anandur liked messing with the old man.

  “The boss is upstairs. Could you please set us a table down here next to the stairs?” Anandur leaned down to Gino’s ear. “We need to watch both entrances. If you know what I mean,” he whispered, pausing for effect. “Oh, and the lady is going to join him shortly, so it will be two upstairs and two downstairs for lunch today.”

  “The lovely Ms. Amanda?” the small man breathed, wiping his spotless hands on his pristine apron, his mostly bald head glistening with perspiration.

  “The one and only.” Anandur chuckled. “And speaking of the devil, here she is in person, the beautiful Dr. Amanda Dokani.” He pointed at the front door.

  “Hi, boys!” Amanda sauntered into the restaurant, causing a momentary halt in the chatter. She hugged Brundar, then stretching to reach, kissed Anandur’s cheek. “Kian is upstairs?”

  “Yep, he is waiting for you. But before you go, I just wanted to say, you totally rocked today!” Anandur high-fived her. “I didn’t snooze even once.” He pulled her into a hug.

  “Congratulations on the promotion,” Brundar added, for once not skimping on words.

  Gino was still wiping his hands, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

  Amanda turned, flashing him her megawatt smile. “Gino! Sweetheart!” She leaned to give him a hug.

  “Bellissima!” He blushed the color of beets, returning the hug and planting a kiss on each of her cheeks. “So happy to see you again.”

  “You always brighten my day, Gino. The way you say bellissima… Makes a girl swoon. Be a darling and bring me my wine upstairs? I’m in the mood to celebrate. You still stock it, I hope?”

  “I keep it just for you, bellissima!” He beamed.

  Amanda’s favorite wine, a 2005 Angelus, was too rich for Gino’s regulars, but he always kept a bottle just for her. Excusing himself, Gino scurried to the kitchen to fish out the bottle he was hiding behind the onions in the pantry. The unmistakable scent a
lways clung to the bottle, and Anandur wondered if Amanda could smell it as well. Female immortals’ sense of smell wasn’t as acute as that of the males, but still, this one was quite pungent.

  Starting up, Amanda paused mid-stair. “Aren’t you coming?” She arched her brows.

  “Sorry, princess, we are on guard duty, keeping an eye out from down here. The two of you together in public always makes me twitchy.” Anandur waved her off and dragged a chair to the small table the waiter had placed near the stairs.

  “As you wish.” Amanda shrugged and kept climbing.

  5

  Amanda

  Amanda wasn’t about to argue. The conversation she was planning to have with her brother required privacy.

  Argh, he is going to fume and rant, she cringed.

  For a good guy, he sure had a very short fuse. But this needed to be done, and giving up was not an option.

  The future of their clan depended on it.

  “I’m so proud of you!” Kian got up and pulled her into a hug.

  “It’s about time someone was!” Lingering in the comfort of Kian’s warm embrace, Amanda sniffled, blinking back the tears that were threatening to ruin her carefully applied makeup. “The naughty party girl is finally making a contribution.” She chuckled.

  Nine years ago, Amanda had decided to enroll in college, surprising everyone, most of all herself, with how brilliant she’d turned out to be. In just seven years, she’d earned a Ph.D. in the Philosophy of Neuroscience, and was now hailed as a new and fresh thinker, a leader in her field. Her papers were published in the most respected scientific journals.

  “Oh, sweetheart, when you look ahead to a lifespan of thousands of years, two centuries of partying seem like nothing at all. And after the sorrow you had endured, you deserved all the joy you could find.”

  Why the hell did Kian have to bring it up?

  Her day had been going so well until he opened the trapdoor on the old pain she’d buried deep down behind thick walls and a moat. Surfacing, it dragged its serrated edge through her insides. “You know I don’t talk about it!” She pushed away from him, wiping the few tears that found their way out despite her best efforts.

  In the silence that followed, the sound of Gino’s light footfalls echoing from the stairwell announced his arrival. A moment later, he rushed in with a loaded tray in one hand and a folded stand in the other. Setting it up by the table, he proceeded to pull out a chair for Amanda. “My lady?” He gestured for her to take a seat.

  Donning her well-practiced cheerful mask, Amanda did what she’d always done when unpleasant thoughts intruded. She pushed them back into their little jail, redirecting her train of thought to a happier place; like whether Gino insisted on always serving them himself because he coveted their generous tips, or because he believed they were celebrities. “Thank you, Gino.” She sat down, sneaking another discreet swipe at her eyes before offering him a bright smile.

  Gino removed the red-checkered napkin from the basket of freshly baked rolls, letting the steam out, then fussed with the placement of the wine glasses. Once he was satisfied with how everything looked, he proceeded to make a big production out of opening the bottle and pouring Amanda’s wine.

  As he pulled out two menus from his apron pocket and was about to hand them out, Kian stopped him with a chuckle. “Please, we have no need for these. Unless new items have been added since our last time here, I can recite your menu verbatim. I’ll have a Caesar salad and the vegetable lasagna, please.”

  “The garden delight fettuccine and your delicious house salad, per favore.” Amanda smiled at Gino and reached for one of the fragrant rolls.

  “Very well!” His face beaming with satisfaction, Gino puffed out his chest and stuffed the menus back in his apron pocket. “I’ll be back with your salads momentarily.”

  Sipping her wine, Amanda stole a furtive glance at Kian to assess his mood as she thought of a way to broach the delicate subject she needed to discuss with him.

  “You’re plotting something.” Kian narrowed his eyes. “I know that contemplating look, the one you have when you want to tell me something you know I’m not going to like. Let’s hear it then and get it over with so I can bite your head off, and we can eat in peace.”

  Amanda pouted. “You could be nice and agreeable for a change.”

  “Spill!”

  “I want you to meet Syssi,” she blurted in a hurry, cringing in preparation for his retort.

  “Syssi?” He arched a brow.

  “Yes, Syssi, my research assistant, remember? I mentioned her before.” Amanda looked hopefully at Kian. He didn’t seem angry. Yet. Maybe this would go easier than she had expected.

  “Last I heard you mention that girl, you were blabbering about an architecture graduate who excelled at predicting coin tosses.”

  “I hired her,” Amanda said while trying to look remorseful.

  “And what credentials did she bring to the job? Arranging the Functional MRI machines in an aesthetically pleasing manner? Painting the lab in designer colors? I understand you wanted to test her, but why hire the girl?”

  Kian’s level of aggravation was rising with each sentence. He had this tendency to fuel his own temper over minor issues. And yet, when things hit critical mass he somehow managed to be as cool as a cucumber.

  “Syssi is an amazing person; smart, dedicated, and hard working. The internship she had lined up bummed. The poor schmuck died of a heart attack on a fishing trip of all places. I needed a research assistant, and she was both available and the best test subject I had to date. She is off the charts, Kian. And it’s not only the coin tosses, which in itself is beyond impressive; she guesses with eighty-seven percent accuracy. The random-computer-selected-images test? You know which one I’m talking about?”

  When he nodded, she continued. “She was spot on, or close to the correct image in ninety-two out of a hundred pictures. She has the strongest precognition ability of any mortal I’ve ever tested. I’m telling you, Syssi is a Dormant, Kian. I just know it.” Amanda could barely contain her excitement.

  Kian ran both hands through his hair. “I can’t do it, Amanda. It’s just wrong. Pick another male. It doesn’t have to be me.”

  “I don’t know what your problem is, Kian. You bang random women you pick up at clubs and bars, and I know for a fact that you’ve even paid for it on occasion. So why not Syssi? Why not someone who has the potential to change your life and give hope to the rest of us? We know there must be Dormants out there; carriers of our unrealized genes who can be turned into near-immortals like us. Potential mates we could bond with for life. And I think I finally found a way to identify them. You know why I started this research in the first place, searching for anomalies, paranormal abilities. Once we realized DNA testing was useless, instead of giving up, I took a different approach. Don’t you want children, Kian? Immortal children? Don’t you want a life mate?” Amanda was exasperated. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t even pause to think. But only males possessed the venom necessary to activate the dormant DNA.

  It was a cruel twist of fate, or as Kian believed, the work of a crazy geneticist. Only the immortal females contributed the special genetic material to their offspring. And only males could activate it in a Dormant.

  An immortal mother and a mortal father produced mortal offspring who possessed the dormant immortal genes and could be activated by venom. If not activated, the dormant genetic material would remain inert but still pass from mother to daughter, and so on. It wouldn’t pass to the sons, though.

  The immortal heredity was matrilineal.

  To facilitate the activation of a Dormant, an immortal male would have to inject the latent with his venom. When sexually aroused, the male’s fangs elongated and venom was produced in specialized glands; the need to bite and release it into the female’s system congruent with the need to ejaculate.

  Aggression toward other males triggered a similar reaction. Though the venom produced for the purpose
of immobilizing or even killing an opponent was obviously more potent and carried a different mix of chemicals. A large amount of it, pumped into the victim’s system, paralyzed the body and stopped the heart. Even in immortals.

  Kian just stared at her, looking stunned by her audacity. But she did not back down. Holding his stare, she challenged him to pick up the gauntlet.

  “You really want to know what the big deal is? I’ll tell you. I hate it! I hate what I have to do. I feel like a drug addict; needing, craving the release sex provides and despising the need. I wish I could abstain, or at least have the luxury human males have of taking matters into their own hands, so to speak. But I can’t bite myself, can I? If I could put my hands on the sick fuck who designed us this way, I would kill the fucker… slowly.” Kian took a fortifying breath in an obvious attempt to calm down, then continued in a quieter voice.

  “I use these women. I don’t remember their faces or their names. They are all interchangeable in my mind. Not to feel like a jerk, I try not to objectify them, giving them as much pleasure as I can, and when tampering with their brain I leave the memory of pleasure intact, erasing only the biting part and replacing my features with those of another. That’s all I can do to ease my conscience. But there is nothing I can do for myself, for the way I feel, as if I’m a goddamned animal with no control over my baser needs.”

  Reaching over and taking Kian’s hand, Amanda purposely kept pity out of her expression. “I had no idea it got so bad for you.”

  She did not understand his misery. She loved sex. Loved the variety of partners. Perhaps it was different for the females of the clan because supposedly, there was a purpose to their sexual appetite. Conception was extremely rare for her people, and pregnancy was hailed a miracle. With the females of the clan holding the key to its continuity, as only their progeny could turn immortal, they were encouraged to seek a variety of human partners in the hopes of conceiving.